The Chosen (23 page)

But there was one yet to gather, Tom knew.

The disciple most crucial to their captor's quest had yet to be found.

Judas.

The betrayer.

 

Judith Morris was thirty-three, six feet two inches tall, and ten pounds shy of three hundred pounds. Her hair was worn in a buzz cut, and the earring she wore in her left ear was made out of barbed wire. She had a barbed wire tattoo around her neck and matching designs on her forearms. She could bench-press almost four hundred pounds and was missing an upper eyetooth.

Technically, she'd started life on the streets as a runaway, although she'd long since reached the age of consent. Now her residence in the universe was her business. She ran a little numbers game out of an alley between an Italian restaurant and a Greek deli, and once in a while worked as a bouncer at Club Lesbo. In fact, few people even knew Judith had been born a woman, and those that didn't would have been shocked by the news. Her nose had been broken, and there was a scar on her chin.

She looked like anything but a female.

And she went by the name of Jude.

 

Jay felt like an impersonator. Even though he believed his transformation had been a direct message from God, he didn't feel comfortable. But he'd done what he'd done and now had to live with it. However, living was becoming a moot point. In addition to the pain that had been Jay's constant companion for the past few months, he believed his body was beginning to break down.

Yesterday he'd eaten some breakfast right after letting out a fare, and within minutes of finishing the meal, had to pull into a gas station to throw up. It had been unnerving to know that his body was betraying him. And now that his hair was cut off, he'd found sore and swollen knots on his neck. After a panicked and thorough check of the rest of his body, he'd found one under his arm, as well.

Lymph glands.

Cancer's freeway to the body.

He had even less time than he'd planned for. Finding Judas had become his primary focus, only the phonebook had yielded nothing in the way of a Judas.

 

Jude came out of her hole-in-the-wall apartment with a hangover and an attitude. Her bitch had taken a hike in the night after complaining of being knocked around. Jude was somewhat pissed off that she hadn't been the one to make the decision, but she was secretly glad the loser was gone.

Her stride was defiant, her hands almost always curled into fists. Today was no different. She headed for the deli on the corner to get some breakfast before making her rounds. It was past time to confront the losers who owed her money, and she wasn't above breaking an arm or two to collect.

She entered the deli with her usual swagger, shoved a Gucci-suited lawyer type out of line and took his place. One old woman muttered something in what sounded like Russian. Jude laughed in her face and answered her in pig latin, a skill left over from her elementary school days, then yelled out her order.

“You! You wait you turn,” the clerk shouted, and waved for her to move back.

“Fuck you,” Jude said. She snatched two bagels from a basket on top of the meat case, then threw a five dollar bill on the floor. “Keep the change,” she said, and took a bottle of orange juice from a cooler on her way out.

“Hey, Jude! Come back here, damn it! You owe me another dollar,” the clerk shouted.

“The bagels are cold, the juice isn't, and you aren't getting shit,” she yelled back, and kept walking.

Jay had been standing in line for more than fifteen minutes, but the moment he heard the clerk call the man by name, his hunger was forgotten. He stepped out of the queue and followed the big man out the door. He had absolutely no idea how he would ever get this huge man into his cab, but he'd prayed for his Judas, and God had answered.

Jude was halfway down the block, eating as she walked. Her stride was as forceful as the bites she was taking, but her mind was already on the rest of her day.

When Jay realized his man was on the move, he jumped in his cab and began following, staying at least a block behind. Several times he had to pull over to the curb and wait for Jude to exit different stores. He thought it strange that, even though he'd gone into at least five stores in the last hour, he hadn't made a single purchase in any of them.

It was almost noon when he realized Jude was heading for a street corner. When Jude stopped and looked up and down, obviously waiting to hail a cab, it was all he could do not to shout. But when he glanced into his rearview mirror and saw another cab bearing down on the corner, Jay panicked. He set his jaw and peeled out from the curb as skillfully as if he'd come off the starting line at the Indy 500, and beat the driver to the fare.

The other cab driver honked at Jay and then shouted something foul as he drove past.

Jude stepped off the curb, opened the back door of the cab and slid in.

“Where to, mister?” Jay asked.

A frown slid across Jude's face, and then she snorted beneath her breath.

“Do you know where the Little China Tea House is?” she asked.

Jay had never heard of it, but it hardly mattered.

“Sure do,” he said.

“Get me there in ten minutes and I'll make it worth your while,” Jude growled.

The voice wasn't as deep as Jay had expected, but he shrugged it off. It didn't matter what Jude sounded like. It was the name that counted.

He put the cab in gear and pulled away from the curb. Jude passed out before they'd gone two blocks.

Jay glanced up in the rearview mirror to make sure the big man was unconscious, then headed for the warehouse. There was no more space in the old blast furnace, but it didn't matter. He had a special place for his Judas.

 

When Jude came to and found a rat running across her belly, she screamed. It was the first female thing she'd done in years, and even to her, it sounded foreign. As it ran off her chest, she shuddered and tried to sit up. When she realized there were chains around her wrists, she couldn't believe it. All she could think was that she was dreaming and at any time would wake up. It wasn't until she gave the chains a yank and the pain raced up her arms that she realized it was no dream.

With a little maneuvering, she finally managed to sit up. Nothing looked familiar, and she had no memory of how she'd gotten here. The last thing she remembered was…

Her mind went blank. She had no memory of anything after coming out of Lee's Chinese Laundry.

Think. Think. Out of the laundry. Up the street.

The cab! There'd been a cab at the corner.

“I took a cab,” Jude muttered, and was startled that her voice echoed. “Where the hell am I?” Then she started to shout. “Hey! Help! Help! Is anybody there? Help, someone! I need help!”

No one answered.

A second rat stuck its head out of a hole in the corner of a wall.

“Fuck you!” Jude yelled, and kicked out with her foot. It didn't even move. “Damn it,” she muttered, and then groaned as she shifted her position, trying to ease the strain.

She needed to pee. It was inevitable. One of the few reminders she still had of being female. Despite her size, her bladder was small, and the flesh pressing in around it was always an urgent signal that waiting would not be wise.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Someone! I gotta go!”

No one came.

No one cared.

She waited until tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and the pain in her side was too sharp to bear any longer.

“God damn you!” she yelled. “God
damn
you!”

The release of urine was at once an immediate relief and an embarrassment. She hadn't pissed her pants since she was a kid. The shame of it, coupled with a rage so strong it made her shake, overwhelmed her. She didn't know whether to curse or cry, sitting in a puddle of her own pee and caught in a web of someone else's making.

Three days later

Rick had been to the dentist and was coming in late. The front desk was a madhouse, and the sergeant on duty had turned red in the face from frustration and was a breath shy of losing his temper. Rick's jaw was hurting, and he felt about the same way. He waved at the sergeant as he went by and was almost to the stairs when someone grabbed him by the arm.

It was a woman. A very small, thin woman.

“Hey, mister, are you a cop?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I can't get anyone to listen to me, but I got a friend who's disappeared.”

“You need to report him to missing persons,” Rick mumbled, then winced. “Sorry. Been to the dentist.”

She made a sympathetic face but stood her ground.

“That cop at the desk told me to go to missing persons, too. But he didn't tell me where to go. Can you help me?”

“Sure, why not?” Rick said. “Come on. I'll walk you up. What's your name?”

“Mitzi Fontaine.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Fontaine. Now let's see if we can get you some help.”

“Thank you,” Mitzi said. “I really appreciate this.”

Rick shrugged. “No problem. So, what's your friend's name…the one who's missing?”

“Jude.”

Rick stumbled on a step, but caught himself before he could fall.

“Dang painkillers. Always make me woozy,” he said, but it wasn't exactly what he was thinking. Last count he and Ben had, that street preacher still needed a Judas. This was a long shot, but the whole case was so far out that ignoring a lead, no matter how far-fetched, wasn't an option.

“So what does this Jude guy do?”

“Oh, Jude isn't a guy. She's a girl. Only you can't really tell it. She's the bouncer at Club Lesbo, where I dance, only she hasn't been around in three days, and that isn't like her. It isn't like her at all.”

Rick's hopes fell. A dyke. That didn't fit.

“A woman, huh?” Then he keyed in on what Mitzi had said. “What do you mean, you can't tell she's a woman?”

“I'm serious,” Mitzi said. “I like her a lot. She's always nice to me, but I'd hate to be her enemy. She's big, you know?”

“How big?” Rick asked.

“Like…way over six feet tall. And her body…well, it's like a man's body. I think she works out or something. She doesn't have any boobs, or if she does, you can't tell it. She looks like this really big weight lifter. Short hair, spooky barbed wire earring and barbed wire tattoos.”

“I don't suppose you have a picture,” Rick asked.

Mitzi nodded as she dug in her purse.

“Actually, I do. I came prepared. It isn't like Jude to miss work without calling in. That's why I know something's happened to her.”

Mitzi paused on the stairs and handed Rick the picture. It was of four people, sitting at a table in a bar.

“Which one is she?” Rick asked.

“There. The one on the far right.”

It was the last one Rick would have guessed to be female.

“You're kidding,” he mumbled.

“No. I told you she looks like a guy. That's why I'm worried. You know how people hate queers.”

“She looks pretty tough to me,” Rick said.

“I guess, but we bleed just like everyone else, you know.”

“We?” Rick said.

Her chin rose just a fraction. “Yeah. We.”

Rick eyed her curiously. She didn't look queer, but what did he know?

“Come on,” he said. “I want you to talk to my partner.”

“Why?” she said.

“Just because.”

She shrugged. It was a better reason than most people gave her.

“Whatever. I just want someone to help me find my friend.”

R
ick found Ben coming out of Captain Borger's office and waved him over to the desk. As he went, Ben took note of the tiny woman Rick was escorting. Her hair was streaked with pink and purple. Her clothes were brief, tight and revealing. But nothing was more revealing than her eyes. They were large, blue and shimmering with tears. Her chin was trembling, as was her lower lip. Whatever was going on in her life had obviously knocked her for a loop.

Rick had her by the elbow, guiding her to a chair, when Ben got to the desk.

“Mitzi, this is my partner, Ben North.”

Ben nodded cordially, then looked at Rick. “What's up?”

“Not sure,” Rick said. “But it might be something to do with our preacher.”

Ben arched an eyebrow but remained noncommittal as he sat down beside her. Rick took the chair on the opposite side of the desk. As soon as they were settled, Rick pointed to Mitzi.

“This lady has a friend who's gone missing. Three days now, you said. Isn't that right?”

Mitzi nodded.

Ben knew immediately where Rick was going, and cut to the chase. “What's his name?” Ben asked.

“It's not a he, it's a she,” Mitzi said.

Ben frowned, then looked at Rick. “Come on, Rick. You know this doesn't—”

“Maybe…maybe not. Hear us out.”

Ben leaned back, waiting for them to make their case.

“The missing friend goes by the name of Jude, right, Mitzi?”

She nodded.

Ben's interest sharpened. As far as he knew, the preacher hadn't taken a Judas. Maybe Rick was on to something after all.

“Now tell my partner what you told me about Jude's appearance,” Rick said.

Mitzi's eyes pooled and overflowed. “We're always being misjudged,” she whispered.

“I don't get it,” Ben said.

“Mitzi is a dancer at the Club Lesbo. Jude is one of the bouncers,” Rick said; then he turned to Mitzi. “Tell Ben what Jude looks like. If you wanted Ben to find her in a crowd, what would he need to look for?”

“Okay.” Then she sighed. “She's really big, you know? Like way over six feet tall, with a body like a guy who's a bodybuilder. You can't see her boobs or anything for the muscles in her chest. And, uh…her hair…she wears it buzzed, and she has barbed wire tattoos. One around her neck like a necklace, and one on each arm, up here.” She grabbed her own arms at the biceps. “Oh, and, uh…she wears a piece of barbed wire in her ear for an earring. She's really good to me, but Jude doesn't look like a woman. Doesn't walk like a woman. Doesn't talk like a woman, and she never misses work. Never does the disappearing act with a new lover like some. Something has happened to her. I just know it, but I can't make anybody listen.”

Ben eyed Rick with respect.

“Okay, partner, I get where you're going with this, and it's not a bad guess.” He looked back at Mitzi. “I don't suppose you'd have a picture of your friend?”

Mitzi nodded.

“I do. I already showed your partner. It was taken just this past year on New Year's Eve. This is Jude at the far right.”

Ben's mouth dropped. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't seem to stop.

“That's a woman?”

Mitzi nodded.

“Now do you see what I mean?” Rick asked.

“Take her in to the captain. I'm going to give January a call. She was going to talk to her friend, the nun who helps run the Sisters of Mercy shelter. Maybe she can verify this, or maybe they've heard of another Jude being snatched, in which case we need to get Mitzi here up to missing persons.”

Mitzi looked confused.

“But I thought this
was
the place to report missing persons.”

“No, ma'am. This is homicide,” Ben said.

Mitzi gasped and then started to cry. “Do you already know something about Jude?”

Ben touched her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“No, we don't, and I'm sorry I led you to believe that. However, there is a possibility that if your friend Jude has truly gone missing, she might be the victim of a serial kidnapper.”

“But why would you think that?” Mitzi asked.

Ben hesitated briefly. “Because she fits the profile. We don't know this, and we have nothing to base our suspicions on other than theory, okay?” Then he held up the picture. “Do you mind if we keep this? I'll make sure you get it back.”

“No, it's okay. I have others,” Mitzi said. “So what do I do?”

“Give Detective Meeks your address and any phone numbers where you can be reached. We'll be in touch.”

“Yes, all right,” she said.

“I'll take her in to the captain,” Rick said.

“And I'm going to call January.”

 

January was on the scene of a house fire, doing an interview with a mother who'd gotten herself and her baby out of the house by using her husband's mountain climbing equipment. She'd fastened her infant into her baby carrier, then lowered it and the child into the flower garden below. Then she'd used a second set of ropes, with one end fastened to their king-size bed, to lower herself out the window. A ten-year-old neighbor across the street, who had been home with the flu, was the one who'd called 911, then caught the whole thing on tape.

January had already interviewed the boy, who was the hero of the hour, and she was wrapping up an interview with the mother as she and the baby were being examined by the paramedics. With the tape of the rescue in her purse and the footage with the mother just finished, she had another big scoop for the six-o'clock news.

She pointed to her cameraman.

“Okay, Hank, that's a wrap.” Then she turned to the mother. “You know something, Jessica? I'm so thankful you and your baby are okay, and I hope if I'm ever faced with danger, that I'm as brave and coolheaded as you were today.”

The woman was teary-eyed but remarkably calm as she cradled her infant in her arms.

“I never used to be,” she said, then looked down at her daughter, who'd fallen asleep in her arms. “But when you have someone else you love more than your own life, it's amazing what you can do.”

January touched the baby's hair, then brushed a fingertip over her tiny hand.

“I completely understand,” she said, then added, “This will air on the six-o'clock and eleven-o'clock news.”

“Hey, January,” Hank said. “I'm ready when you are.”

“Okay,” she said, and then waved goodbye. “Take care. We'll be in touch.”

She started across the street and was dodging fire hoses and water puddles on her way to the news van when her cell phone rang. She jammed her hand into her purse to grab it, and answered on the move.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey. Can you talk?”

January broke into a smile. “Hey, yourself, and yes, I can. What's up?”

“I was wondering…have you and your little nun friend come up with any more missing men?”

January's smile disappeared.

“No. Why?”

“Well, we just had a missing person complaint come into the precinct that might fit, only there's a twist.”

“What's the missing person's name, and what's the twist?”

“Jude…but it's a woman.”

January sighed. “Not possible,” she said.

“Wait a minute,” Ben said. “Let me explain.”

“Honey, there's no way our preacher can make that work for him,” she said.

“What if he didn't know Jude was a woman?”

Now he had January's attention.

“How could he not?” she asked.

“We've got a missing person who's well over six feet tall, built like a bodybuilder, no visible signs of femininity, butch haircut, barbed wire tattoos, barbed wire earring, pretty damn scary-looking character. In fact, I'm staring at her picture right now, and I would never have guessed it was a woman.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Ben said.

“What does this Jude do?”

“She's a bouncer at Club Lesbo.”

“Okay. I'm with you,” January said. “How long has she been missing?”

“Three days, and according to her friend who made the report, it's one hundred percent not in her behavior to pull a disappearing act. So do you agree it's a possibility?”

“Given all that, then I have to say yes.”

“That's what Rick and I think, too.”

“You know what this means, then, don't you?”

“What are you getting at?” Ben asked.

“If he has all his disciples, and if he's experiencing some kind of mental or physical breakdown, he may be moving toward some kind of climax.”

“Climax? Like what?” Ben asked. “What the hell comes next…crucifixion?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“Well, crap,” Ben muttered.

“And if that follows,” January said, “you have to consider what happened to Judas in the Bible. This preacher has beheaded his own John the Baptist, killed his Bartholomew for being the wrong one, and God knows what else that we don't know about. What we do know is that Judas hanged himself. If the preacher feels the need to recreate that, as well, I can guarantee you that your missing Jude is going to get some help in making that happen.”

There was a long silence, followed by a muffled curse.

“You're being careful, aren't you, honey?” Ben asked.

“Yes.”

“Will you do something for me?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Call your Mother Mary Theresa again and talk to her. See if she's heard anything new.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know what she says.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, baby,” Ben said.

January exhaled softly. “I love you, too.”

“See you tonight?”

“Yes,” she said. “But it will be late. I don't get off until after the eleven-o'clock news.”

“That works for me. I'll bring supper.”

She grinned. “Fabulous.”

“Anything in particular you want to eat?”

“Surprise me,” she said.

“Okay. See you later,” Ben said, and hung up.

January disconnected, then dropped her cell phone back in her purse and hurried toward the van. She slid into the passenger seat and grinned at her cameraman.

“Okay, Hank, let's get this show on the road. I'm going to need at least an hour to edit the tape and do any necessary voice-overs.”

“So…buckle up,” Hank said, and put the van into gear.

 

Jay was on the way to the Lincoln Memorial with a back seat full of blue-haired women, all over the age of seventy. They'd been arguing with each other for the past fifteen minutes over the merits of water soluble fiber as opposed to getting it naturally through food. He now knew more than he'd ever wanted to know about intestinal gas. As a means of changing the subject, when they stopped at a red light, Jay cleared his throat and then raised his voice so as to be heard above their voices.

“Ladies…ladies.”

The silence that came was so welcome that for a moment he considered saying nothing, but then he figured they would just resume their conversation, and he viewed this as an opportunity to witness for the Lord.

“Ladies,” he repeated. “Do you know the Lord?”

One of the four cupped her ear and said, “Eh? What did he say?”

“He asked if we knew Gerald Ford.”

Jay frowned. “No, I said—”

The little lady in the middle held up both her hands.

“No, he didn't,” she said. “He asked if we were getting bored.” Then she leaned forward and patted the back of the front seat. “We're just fine, young man,” she said. “How long before we get there?”

Jay frowned. He didn't like being thwarted, but they weren't arguing with him. They just couldn't hear.

“About five minutes…maybe ten, depending on the traffic.”

“What did he say?” the first one asked.

“He said we were too graphic. I told you it was rude to talk about constipation.”

“No, he didn't,” the one in the middle said. “He said—”

The light turned green. Jay stomped on the accelerator, which ended the conversation. He took every shortcut he knew to get to the memorial and was nothing but relieved when he let them out.

He kept telling himself that the fares he was earning were worth any kind of hassle if the money kept his people fed and helped him finish his quest. To say he was disappointed with what was happening with his followers would be putting it mildly. They'd been apathetic, even refusing to eat.