The Apocalypse Script (7 page)

Well, no, he admitted to himself,
he
could
call the
police and turn himself and Fiela in, but he remembered Lilian’s
promise of attorneys and he thought it best to get the legal eagles
lined up before he took that step. Fiela, in particular, needed
solid legal representation.

There was a short blurb below the
fold regarding a police cordon around his apartment building but
there was no mention of Cage’s disease - if there had been, it
would have been the headline story. Evidently the article had been
printed before anyone in the press knew the circumstances of the
cordon. He contemplated turning on his television but decided that
knowing wasn’t going to be any better than not knowing at this
juncture.

“
I need clothes,” Fiela said as
she brought the plates to the table.

“
I’m sure Lilian
can buy you some,” he mumbled.
Or
you’ll be issued some at the penitentiary.

The girl set a plate in front of
him and her own just a few inches away before pulling a chair so
close to his side that they were practically rubbing shoulders. As
they ate, she put a bare foot lightly atop his and started moving
it slowly up and down his leg.

“
Um, Fiela,” he began, but there
was a commotion outside, giving him an excuse to rise and walk to
his balcony. The police below were taking down the barricades.
There wasn’t an ambulance or news van to be seen.

“
False alarm,”
he said after a long moment.
“
Huh.
”

“
Yeah. Lilian will be here soon,
then.”

One minute after the last
barricade was removed Ben watched Lilian’s black Mercedes roll into
the parking lot. His new client stepped out of the driver’s side
wearing a sleeveless navy blue dress that stopped above the knees,
and shiny black pumps. She pulled a suitcase from the backseat and
a few minutes later knocked on the door. Fiela answered.

“
Sister!” the girl exclaimed
excitedly, and the two women touched cheeks.

If Lilian was surprised to see
Fiela, she didn’t show it. She entered the room, dropped the
suitcase, and walked briskly toward Ben. “Good morning,” she said,
her expression apologetic, as if he were a child she’d lost in a
mall. “I’m so sorry about last evening.”

He stopped her advance with one
hand. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“
I know,” she said, “and I will,
on the way to Steepleguard.”

“
Steepleguard?”

Fiela dropped to all fours and
began yanking clothes from the suitcase. “It’s where we grew
up.”

Lilian nodded. “Steepleguard is
where Ridley lives. He is Fiela’s uncle. She and I grew up there
together.”

“
You’re related, then?”

“
In a way. We were Ridley’s
charges, as young girls.”

“
I don’t understand.”

“
We were orphans.”

“
Oh,” said Ben awkwardly. Thinking
he should say something else, he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It was a
lifetime ago.”

“
I like this
one,” said Fiela, rising and holding up a white silk blouse to her
chest. “And the gray skirt, maybe. I still want to go shopping. I
need a fetch. No,
two
fetches. Mister and Miss.”

“
After,” said Lilian sternly, only
then turning to look at her. “Take what you need and get dressed. I
need to go. It’s a four hour drive to Steepleguard.”

The girl disappeared into Ben’s
bedroom.

When she was gone, Ben said in a
hushed but urgent tone, “Lilian, we are in a lot of trouble. We
can’t go to the your friend’s house, not now!”

“
Why not?”

He looked at her disbelievingly.
“Lilian, last night I witnessed that girl murder two policemen. I
left the scene of the murder in an unmarked car -
your
car. Those
are
crimes.
”

The woman was unfazed. “Those
things never happened. I do recall, however, seeing something on
the news this morning about two policemen who were killed last
night. A nasty business involving a prostitute and her pimp. But
there was certainly nothing in the story related to you or
Fiela.”

Ben crossed his arms. She wanted
to play games?
Now?

“
Any idea what this pimp looked
like?” he asked.

“
The police aren’t saying but my
contacts tell me that he was short, bald headed, and wore a leather
jacket.”

“
No, the motel manager was short
and bald headed. Fiela wore the leather jacket.”

“
Well,” the
woman said dubiously, “that is
your
account, but you were a piñata
last night and you’re high on prescription narcotics. Most
witnesses remember things quite differently. Those people have made
reports to the police that conflict with what you just told
me.”

“
What people?”

“
Some anonymous
callers and some passers-by. Even some of the guests. Anyway, what
is more believable, what I just told you or some ludicrous story of
a girl assaulting and killing two policemen with a mop handle? In
due course that rather silly scenario will be replaced by the
believable one - the one people
expect.
It is called ‘retroactive
interference.’ Steps have been taken.”

The researcher grunted. “That
won’t work, Lilian. There will be pictures of me and Fiela or maybe
even of my license plate from the coffee shop if anyone connected
the car to me.”

“
Phones take horrible photos of
distant objects in dim light,” countered the woman, “and good
pictures may be lost - or altered. The prostitute was wearing very
heavy makeup and had her hair dyed bizarre colors. You were,
according to your version of events, either on the ground or had
your back to the alleged witnesses. Your car was removed by Mr.
Fetch and the license plate you think is attached to your car is
actually attached to an identical car owned by a known meth
dealer.”

“
But the DMV-”

“
The DMV computer records show the
plate was issued three years ago to the meth dealer. Not
you.”

Ben racked his brain and said, “The motel manager
saw me when he handed me a towel.”

“
The motel manager,” responded
Lilian immediately, “is involved in several questionable activities
and has a lengthy rap sheet. My investigator met with him this
morning and the manager admitted he was drunk most of the evening
and has only the fuzziest memory of what transpired.”

Ben put his hands on his hips and
shook his head. “Lilian, policemen
died.
Badly.
They were murdered. Smoke and mirrors won’t stop their
counterparts from getting to the bottom of what really
happened.”

“
Actually,” she said, “the two
officers who were killed were corrupt and loathed by their peers,
which is why they were so easy to manipulate. That’s why they were
sent after Fiela. They had orders to kill her. The detectives
assigned to investigate their murders are the most incompetent on
the force. Good riddance to bad apples is the police department’s
attitude, internally.”

Ben found that he had exhausted
all his objections. Apparently Lilian had been busy while he
slumbered. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this. If
everything you say is true you have spent a great deal of money and
called in a lot of favors. Why?”

“
As I told you,
this is an emergency.” She moved closer, put a palm on his chest
and said with conviction, “Ben, there are
no limits
to what I will
do to get you to Steepleguard this morning, and there is
no
possibility that
Fiela will ever be turned over to the police. Best that we drop
this topic. It is, I promise you, utterly
inconsequential.”

Ben looked into the woman’s
emerald eyes and saw not an iota of doubt. His options, as he saw
them, were to defy her and call the police, pitting himself against
her and her powerful allies, probably ruining his good name and
career in the process and forfeiting ten-million dollars and an
opportunity to make history, or to let the Strattons handle Fiela
and to play along as if nothing had happened.

“
Okay,” he said at last. “What is
Steepleguard, again?”

Lilian relaxed. “It is one of my
father’s former summer homes in the mountains. It was once the
Steepleguard Hotel, built by some lumber barons in the
19
^th
century. It was a
popular retreat for the elite but in the 1920’s a mile-wide
avalanche buried the railway and primary road that led to it.
Neither was ever uncovered, though Ridley did improve upon a
private, secondary road, which is the only way to access the hotel
now. The building is so remote that few people even know it exists.
Ridley lives there alone except for a few fetches - I mean,
servants.”

“
The tablets are
there?”

“
Yes.”

Fiela emerged from the bedroom
spinning in a slow circle to show off the blouse she had selected.
“What do you think?”

Lilian crossed her arms. “It fits
well, but perhaps you would spare Ben some angst if you also wore a
skirt?”

“
Oh, have I forgotten that?” the
girl asked, all innocence. She lingered in the doorway a few
seconds longer before disappearing.

“
Do you like her?” asked Lilian
earnestly, studying his face.

“
That’s an odd
question.”

“
But do you?”

“
I don’t understand why that
should matter.”

“
I would prefer that you like her.
I think you will find she is not as odd as she appears once you
spend some time with her.”

Ben said, “Honestly, I’d rather
not. I think she’s dangerous.”

The woman laughed and said, “She
really is.
That
’
s
why I
love her
.
”

Fiela left the apartment with the
policeman’s gun tucked into a purse Lilian had brought her. As he
was seeing her out of his apartment, she ambushed Ben, wrapping her
arms around his neck and kissing him before exchanging a knowing
look with Lilian and darting into the elevator. Lilian seemed
amused.

A few minutes later Ben was
buckling himself into the passenger side of the Mercedes. Lilian
gunned the engine, accelerated rapidly, and turned onto the road
outside the gate of his apartment complex without bothering to look
for oncoming traffic.

“
I like to drive,” she explained
above the din of the twelve-cylinder engine. She headed toward the
mountains. “How do you feel?”

“
Better, thanks. I don’t suppose
you’d like to explain to me why this is such an
emergency?”

“
Would it suffice if I said the
world will end in a week?”

Ben chuckled. “I’d need something
better than that.”

“
Then we are at an impasse. Why
don’t we talk about the tablets?”

“
Fine. You can start by telling me
how Ridley obtained them.”

She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “My
father gave them to him, but they were found by a member of a
little-known organization called the Delphic Order of the
Nisirtu.”

Ben turned toward her. “Fiela
asked me if
I
was
Nisirtu. I’ve never even heard of them, or their order”

“
Its existence is unknown to
almost anyone. For now, let’s just say that the Order of the
Nisirtu is one of many societies of the uber-wealthy, and that it
has been around for a very long time. I am a member, as are Ridley
and Fiela. But I’d rather let Ridley discuss our little club. He’s
much better versed than I am.”

The researcher nodded. “Tell me
how tablets were found, then.”

“
I can tell you the legend –
that’s all I’ve got.”

“
Go for it.”

“
Alright. Apparently they were
discovered in a place now called Tiwanaku, in the Bolivian Andes.
You’re familiar with the location, I assume.”

“
Of course, ” replied Ben. “It’s
the location of those large stone structures that conspiracy
theorists believe were built by aliens. I once led a small team
there to inspect some inscriptions.”

Lilian nodded. “Oh yes, Ridley
mentioned that to me. Anyway, the story goes that several hundred
years ago the region was ruled by a king called Pumuk.”

“
How many hundreds?”

The driver turned towards him.
“Ben, this is a legend, not an excerpt from a textbook. I have no
idea.”

“
Sorry – go on,
please.”

Lilian adjusted her rearview
mirror. “One day old King Pumuk was told that a strange man dressed
in odd yellow garments was requesting an audience with the king.
The king, curious, went to meet the newcomer, who was a pole of a
man with flesh stretched taught over his bones and large,
unblinking eyes.