Chapter Nine

 

 

 

“The Prophet would like to see you both.” Elder Ezikiel stood at the door.

Ellie sighed. The idyll was over. She looked at Duncan.

“When?” he asked, his voice heavy.

“In an hour.”

“All right. We’ll be there.” Duncan closed the door in Ezikiel’s face. “Well, that’s that.”

Fear curdled Ellie’s stomach.

Duncan locked the door. “It’s all right, darling.” His hand was warm on her face. “I’ll look after you.”

She put her arms around his waist. “I know, but I’m scared.”

“We have an hour, Ellie.” He kissed her and backed her toward the bedroom. “Let’s not waste it.”

They tumbled onto the bed. Ellie wanted to remember everything, from the way his skin felt like warm silk beneath her fingers, to his slow grace. He covered her torso with kisses, his hands beneath her hips.

“God, Ellie, you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” Ellie realized that she had moved beyond just simply wanting him. When he slid into her she wept and held him close. The whole episode in the shower had made her realize how much she would’ve done for him.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. He kissed her tears, his breath warm on her face. “This won’t be our last time, I promise.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?” Ellie wound her fingers through his hair and inhaled the dizzying scent of him.

“Hush, darling.” He silenced her with a kiss.

The way he moved inside her after that banished Ellie’s fears.

 

* * * *

 

Duncan held Ellie’s hand when they followed the strange little fair-haired girl along the shadowy hall. Ellie was pale and silent beside him, her eyes red-rimmed and huge. He felt her fear. It lurked, like darkness, inside him. The man they were about to see was clearly insane and Duncan was fairly certain that this was not going to be a polite, post-nuptial social call. He knocked on the door and squeezed Ellie’s cold hand. Something inside him flipped slowly when she gave him an uncertain smile. He kissed her forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair.

“Come in.” The Prophet’s voice was muffled by the door.

Duncan opened the door and led Ellie behind him. She hovered at his side when their host rose from his usual chair. His eyes were pale and sharp in the brilliant morning light. There was no goodwill in his expression.

“I trust you both enjoyed your honeymoon?” His voice was even, toneless.

“Yes, sir.” Duncan slid his arm defiantly around Ellie’s waist. She trembled.

“Ah…good, glad to hear it.” He did not offer them a seat. “I hate to cut it short, but I have a little task for you, Mr. Harris.”

“Sir?”

Enos pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “It’s a statement to the press. I want you to deliver it. I’m told that Show Low is crawling with press and that the FBI have moved in.”

As if to confirm that, the heavy silence was shattered by the whomp-whomp-whomp of a helicopter as it skimmed over the treetops. Ellie pressed against him.

“I want you to go back to the guest house, get your things, put them in your car and get out of here.”

“What about Ellie?”

“Ah, sadly, she’ll have to stay with us. I’m so sorry.” Enos didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. He looked past them and nodded. Two young men, with long beards, lunged at Ellie and wrenched her away from him.

“Let me go, for fuck’s sake.” Her voice shook and she tried to stamp on her captors’ feet.

Duncan, reeling from the suddenness of it all, struggled to get free when his arms were pinned behind his back. “Let her go.”

“No. The honeymoon is over. There will be no peace for anyone now, not until this is all over.” Enos’ voice wavered. “If you do your job properly, it will be, soon.”

Ellie’s eyes were wide. She squirmed and tried to pull herself free.

Duncan’s heart slammed against his ribs. “I want to stay here, with Ellie.”

“You can’t. That’s not how it goes, Mr. Harris.”

Duncan wanted to hit him. Smash that smug, pale face to pulp. Instead he had to watch helplessly while the two goons dragged Ellie through the door. “I’ll get you out, Ellie. I promise.”

“Just go, Duncan. I’ll be all right. Get out of here while you can.”

The bleakness in her eyes broke his heart. He would’ve died for her at that moment. He would’ve killed for her. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Don’t be.” Her voice was sad but she smiled at him. “I don’t regret a minute. It was worth it.” Her eyes were bright with tears.

Duncan wished he could cry himself. He swallowed at the lump in his throat and struggled to speak. By the time he found the words, the door had slammed shut and the room was suddenly a lot darker.

“Take him back to the guest house,” Enos said. “Then see him to the gate.”

“If you harm a hair on her head, I swear I’ll find my way back in and fucking kill you myself.”

“Good luck with that.” Enos nodded and Duncan was wrenched toward the door.

“Bastard. I hope you enjoyed the sex tapes.”

“Oh yes. If your wife wasn’t shop-soiled, I wouldn’t mind a piece of her myself.”

Before Duncan could respond, his escort pulled him through the door and dragged him down the hall.

Back at the guest house, Duncan gathered up his things and Ellie’s, for safekeeping, jamming them into his carry-all while the goon dogged his every step. He wanted to be out of there. At least he would be able to tell the feds where she was probably being kept. At least he would be able to do something to help. He picked up Ellie’s T-shirt and held it to his face, not caring that the goon watched him. It was rich with her scent and with memories that swept out of nowhere and whirled around him. Duncan sat on the bed among the rumpled sheets and wanted to kill someone…anyone.

“Come on,” the goon said. “Get on with it.”

Duncan glared at him and finished packing. After one last walk-through, he followed his escort outside the door and threw his things in the car. He hated that, somewhere, Ellie was being held and he could do nothing to help her. He had wanted to leave with her.

 

* * * *

 

The nightmare was repeating itself. Ellie, bound and gagged, bouncing along in the back of the same van with two of the three stooges sitting in the front. The third stooge had remained with Duncan. This time the journey was a lot shorter and she knew that she wasn’t going to be as lucky. There would be no Obidiah. She fought her tears, not wanting the stooges to see how much she hurt. Instead, she lay still when they stopped the van and dragged her out of the back and across a very familiar stretch of gravel. She’d hauled bushels of tomatoes across it more than once. In spite of everything, Ellie felt relief. At least Duncan would be able to tell them where they were.

“No luxury accommodation for you,” one of the stooges said as he pushed the door open. “You can keep our other guest company.”

“Fine,” Ellie spat. “As long as I don’t have to listen to Enos and his endless ramblings, I’ll be just fine.”

“Show some respect.”

“Fuck off.” She stamped on his foot.

“Bitch.” His fist came out of nowhere, hitting her squarely on the chin.

Wincing, Ellie reeled. “You’re not supposed to hit women. Though, I’m guessing that’s how you get your rocks off. Did you listen to the tapes too? Did they turn you on?”

“Shut up.” He gave her arm a good wrench while his fellow stooge fumbled with the lock on the hatch.

“They did, didn’t they?” she taunted. “You’ve gone all pink. Have you got a boner?” She glanced down at his crotch. “Mind, with a little guy like you, it’s hard to tell.” It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose, now.

The hatch fell back with a thud, sending dust into the air. Stooge number one coughed. Ellie’s escort grabbed her arm and pulled her down the wooden steps. At the bottom, he untied her and shoved her away. “Enjoy, bitch.”

Ellie wheeled around and slapped him hard enough to make her hand sting. “Enjoy your boner, buster.”

He raised his fist but the other stooge seized it. “Don’t let her bother you, brother. She’s done for in any case.”

“Whatever.” Ellie curled her hands into tight fists. She was sorry to see him dragged unceremoniously up the stairs. “Enjoy your beat-off session. I’m guessing that’s all you get these days.”

The hatch slammed shut before she had a chance to hurl any more insults. Shaking, she sank onto the bottom step, covered her face and wept.

“Feisty, aren’t you?”

Ellie recognized the voice. She’d heard it more than once on the news, reading some pointless statement from the federal government.

She glanced up, wiping her eyes with her fists. “Governor Ward?”

“The very same.” He held out his hand. “Ellie Freeman, I assume.”

Ellie shook it and stood up, still sniffling. “Yes.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Ellie. Nice to see you’re safe.”

She rubbed her jaw and looked at him. Relief colored every line on his face. “For the moment, anyway. How long have you been here, sir?”

“God knows, there’s no way of telling down here. If I go by the number of meals, I’m guessing about three days.”

“You were taken on Sunday?”

“Yeah.” The relief was replaced by weariness.

Ellie surveyed their prison. A dim, barren room illuminated by a single, bare bulb. A couple of camping cots were shoved up against the far wall, and a table sat beneath the light, with a pair of mismatched camping chairs. “This is nice.”

“It’s been pretty bad. There is a toilet and a sink, but that’s about it.” Ward rubbed his eyes. “I know it’s not good for you, but I’m glad of the company.”

“I can imagine.” Ellie thought of how she’d spent the last two and a half days and wanted to weep again. She slumped onto a chair and covered her face once more.

“We will get out of here, you know,” the governor said.

“Yeah, now that you’re here, I should think the feds have finally sat up and taken notice.”

“They sat up and took notice when you were snatched. I called them in.”

Ellie looked at him. “You did?”

Ward took the other chair. “No one fucks with my staff, regardless of what they do and where they work.”

She managed a smile. “Really? I honestly thought that no one would bother with me.”

“Well, you were wrong.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Did they really treat you all right?”

“Until just now, yes. I stayed with a family and they were very kind to me.” She didn’t feel like talking about her marriage. She was too weary to explain the circumstances and the pain of being wrenched away from Duncan was still too raw to deal with. Even thinking about him made her want to cry. Ellie rubbed her fist across her eyes. She could still smell him on her skin. It seemed impossible to believe that less than two hours before they had been entangled in bed sheets and in each other. She bit back a sigh. The memory of his touch was a long, slow burn. Ellie had known she would have to say goodbye to Duncan one day, but this wasn’t supposed to be that day.

 

* * * *

 

Duncan was glad to see the gates close behind him. Part of him was still back there, lost in the woods with Ellie. The memory of her touch was a deep wound. He turned the car toward Show Low and drove slowly, searching for signs that something was happening, that there really were feds in the trees. The only sign of anything was a single helicopter circling the compound. It appeared far too businesslike to be a news ’copter as it wheeled lazily overhead. No doubt the pilot was informing someone that a small, white car had just left the compound. Duncan drove for a little while, until he found a lay-by carved out of the trees. He pulled over and turned off the ignition. The cool breeze smelled of pines and swept through the car. Duncan folded his arms on the steering wheel, rested his head on them and closed his eyes. He’d let Ellie down and his failure to protect her ripped him to shreds.

“God, Ellie, I’m so sorry.” He wished he’d just bundled her in the car and made a beeline for the gates. The two days with her had left him complacent and fooled into thinking that they would have all the time in the world. He had become so absorbed by her that he’d forgotten that there was a reason they were there, a reason she was there.

Duncan sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled back out onto the road. He may have failed her once, but he was not going to let it happen again.

When he reached town, it became very clear that something was in the wind. The streets were busier than usual. A large number of anonymous sedans were parked at the hotel where he’d stayed before entering the compound. An armed officer, looking uncomfortable in a Kevlar vest, stood at the entrance to the car park. Duncan pulled in and rolled down the window. “I’ve been sent from the Prophet with a statement,” he told the officer.

“Yeah, sure you have, bud.”

“No, really, I have. I’ve just spent the past four days there. If you’d care to open the bag in the back seat, you’ll find my recorder and hours of tedious interviews with the man on there.”

“How’d you get out? We’d been told he’d locked the place down.”

“He has. I think I might be the last man out.” He sighed. “If you want to reach into the glove compartment, you’ll find my press card in there, and my UK driver’s license.”

The man clearly wasn’t up to trusting anyone. Keeping the gun trained on Duncan, he walked to the passenger side and opened the glove compartment. He picked up Duncan’s wallet and flipped through it, examining the press card with ill-concealed distrust.

“If it’s any help, I’ve just spent the last two and a half days in Mrs. Freeman’s company.”

The guard handed the wallet back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now she’s in real trouble but I think I know where she and the governor are being held.”

“All right, you’ve convinced me.” He lowered the gun. “Park your car. Go to the lobby and ask for Inspector Clarkson. He’ll want to talk to you.” He stepped away from the car and let Duncan go. He found a space between two of the anonymous sedans and climbed out of the car.

The lobby was full of men in suits and the hotel’s proprietor looked as if he’d been run ragged. He regarded Duncan with weary eyes. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m here to see Inspector Clarkson.”

“You found him.” One of the men in suits stood. “Who are you?”

Duncan handed him his wallet. “Duncan Harris, I work for a British paper and I’ve just spent the last four days in the Brotherhood’s compound. The Prophet kicked me out and gave me a message for the press and, I guess, for you guys.” He fished in his pocket and found the folded piece of paper. It occurred to him that he hadn’t even taken the time to read it. Doubtless it was full of the usual blathering invective, mixed with strings of meaningless babble masquerading as prophecies. All Duncan wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep, preferably with Ellie. He ached with missing her already. He wondered how he would manage with an ocean between them.

Clarkson examined the statement, one eyebrow raised. Duncan guessed he was right about the content.

“Fucking mad man,” the inspector muttered. “Have you read this?”

“No. I didn’t exactly have time.”

“Says he’s ready for the final confrontation.”

“He’s been ready for a long time.” Duncan sighed.

“I don’t suppose you know where he’s keeping the governor and Mrs. Freeman, do you?”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

Clarkson studied Duncan with renewed interest. “Really? You’re not kidding, are you?”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that. I want Mrs. Freeman safe and out of there.”

The eyebrow rose once more. “Really?”

“It’s a long story.”

“That’s all right. I’ve got time. We’ll be needing a statement from you in any event. Once you’ve told us where you think they’re being held.”

“Do you have an aerial photo?”

“We have plenty. Come with me.”

Duncan followed the inspector along the corridor. The rooms were all occupied, the doors open to reveal more men in suits poring over maps, computers, papers. The sleepy hotel had been transformed into a major operations center. Clarkson led him into a conference room. The table was swathed in aerial photographs and surrounded by people peering at them, searching for hints.

“Help yourself.” Clarkson handed him a large photo.

Duncan set it on the table and searched for the garden. He found it, a large green rectangle, hard against the northern boundary. He pointed to the shed. “There. It’s the produce storage shed for the community garden. There’s two men who work there, they wouldn’t let any of the garden workers in the building. I was in there. There’s a hatch in the floor. I think that’s where they are.”

“How do you know that?”

“I told you, I’ve spent the last few days with Mrs. Freeman. They had her working in the garden for a few days. She told me about not being allowed in the shed and about the two men.”

“You’re sure about this? The hatch could just lead to a root cellar.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I first saw it, then I noticed that they stored the potatoes above ground. It seemed strange to Ell—Mrs. Freeman that no one was allowed in the shed.”

“It makes sense, I guess. I’ll get some people looking into it. In the meantime, you’re coming with me. We’ve got some talking to do.”

By the time Inspector Clarkson had finished with him, Duncan was wrung out. He happily handed over the transcripts and recordings of his interviews with the Prophet, glad to be free of them. He never wanted to hear the bastard’s voice again. Someone showed him to a room and he was grateful to collapse onto the bed. He took Ellie’s T-shirt from his bag and held it close, cuddling it the way a small child would cuddle a teddy bear. There were so many memories wrapped up in the scent and the feel of it. He heard her voice, soft in his ear, and felt her fingers trail along his chest. Duncan rolled onto his side, wanting her there to ease the terrible ache she’d left him with. He knew that, one day, he’d have to say goodbye to her, to put an ocean between them. But he’d lost himself in her. Now, he was terrified for her. He only hoped that her prospective rescuers knew what they were doing.