Damascus Road (6 page)

“Bully for you,” I said. “We’re not that close.”

Isaac tugged at my jacket, trying to dissuade me, but I
pulled away.

“Were you close to your brother?” Nathan asked.

I stopped.

“Tom?” I asked.

“If you’re not already in the car, get there,” Nathan said.
“I’ll call you back in ten minutes.”

I broke into a run for the parking garage, Isaac yelled at
me to slow down and explain.

I found the car quickly, got behind the wheel, and backed
up. As I dropped the car into first gear, Isaac pulled open the passenger door.
I gave him half a second to get in. He did, sweating and gasping for air. I let
out the clutch, crushed the gas and squealed the tires on the Cuda heading for
the exit.

“What’s going on?” Isaac said.

“Who is this guy?”

“What?” Isaac asked.

“Nathan… the guy on the phone,” I explained. “Who is he?”

“That’s why you’re here,” Isaac said. “To tell us that.”

“That’s why I’m…”

“What?”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said. “He wanted me here.”

I pulled out onto the city streets and navigated the Cuda
through the thick of the traffic, eager for open road. The phone rang.

“Nathan?” I said.

“James,” he said. “In the car?”

“You know I am.”

I steered around a guy on his cell phone looking for an
address.

“Did you call the police?” Nathan asked.

“If you know me,” I said. “You know the answer.”

A chuckle from Nathan. Dry but genuine.

“Where’s my father?”

“I’ve heard you’re a changed man, James. Let’s see, shall
we?” Nathan said. “The cathedral. Fifteen minutes.”

“Fine.”

“If you bring police. If you try anything…” he said.

“I won’t.”

“If you try anything. The next thing the General will see
will be hell fire.”

And with that, Nathan was gone.

“Where’s the cathedral?” I asked.

“It’s the Basilica,” Isaac explained. “It’s across town.”

“We have ten minutes.”

“We’re not going to make it,” Isaac said.

“Where?”

“Back that way,” he said, jerking his thumb over his
shoulder.

The traffic light changed from red to green. I pulled the
parking brake hard, cranking the wheel to the left. The Cuda slid into the
intersection in a tight u-turn. I released the brake and hit the gas. The tires
screeched, and we rocketed forward, back the way we had come.

“Car…car!” Isaac screamed, pointing.

It was a red Ford pickup truck actually. I gutterballed the
car to the right and passed him. The engine growled, raising in RPMs, the power
of the car straining to be released.

Isaac pointed, and I drove. The Cuda growled, and I felt the
acceleration in my gut, the engine screaming in protest. I pointed the car in
the right direction and let it take control.

“Oh my God!” yelped Isaac.

“Hey,” I said.

“What?” Isaac said, clutching the dash.

“You take the Lord’s name in vain one more time and I’m
going to toss your ass out,” I said. “And to be honest, I don’t have time to
stop. So shut it.”

Isaac started to bluster, but I paid no attention. Traffic
had come to a stop ahead, and I couldn’t bicker.

I steered up onto the curb, the tires hitting with
teeth-rattling force. Our heads jerked at the impact. I nursed the gas, praying
for a clear sidewalk. I got what I needed to the end of the block then careened
out into traffic again.

“There! On the left!” Isaac screamed, pointing.

Opposite side of the street. I hit the brake and cranked the
wheel, skidding in front of oncoming traffic, sliding into a U-turned skid that
left us parked in front of the cathedral.

I opened the car door to a hail of car horns. I had nothing
but apathy for them. Nothing else mattered. I ran up the steps, hearing Isaac
trying to catch up behind me.

I threw open the door to the cathedral and walked inside.
The thoughts flooded my mind. While faith was new to me, I had yet to step foot
into a church. I had no claim to this one. The size of the place took me aback.
I saw pews and brass and gold-leaf. But I felt the sacrilege of using a place
like this to meet the man who abducted my father.

“Jim…” it was Ellis.

He stood in the front of the cathedral, near what I could
only imagine was called the altar. It brought a feeling of dread.

“Dad?” I said. “Who did this?”

He lifted his head and I saw the blindfold hidden under
sunglasses. He could not see.

“Don’t come any closer, or he’ll set off the charge,” Ellis
said the words without inflection, as if he were made to memorize them. I saw
the blocks of explosives and wires wrapped around his chest, under his jacket.
I was no expert, but to my eye, they looked authentic enough.

“Do I know him?” I asked.

Ellis shook his head sharply left, right, quick. No. But he
didn’t say it.

“His name is Nathan,” Ellis continued. “And I have sinned.”

He answered my question without using the words. Nathan was
close. I fingered the knife in my pocket. Stainless steel, razor-edged, and
patient. I shut down the train of thought and tried to focus.

“What’s the sin?” I asked, the words tumbled out of my mouth
before I gave them a moment’s thought. What had he done? What could a man do to
drive another to do something like this?

“I have sent the innocent to their death,” he said. Again,
toneless and even.

I started forward, wanting to grab him. I wanted to hug him,
even though the feeling railed against everything I knew.

“Jim, if you touch me, he’ll kill Isaac,” Ellis said.

I stopped. I did not hear Isaac. He was not behind me. My
heart fell. I was stretched too thin in too many directions.

My phone rang in my pocket and I flinched.

“Marlowe” I answered.

“James, brother of Christ,” said the voice. It was Nathan.

“What has he done?” I asked.

“It’s not your place to ask that, James.”

“It’s my place to intercede for the lost,” I said. “You know
that. Please don’t do this.”

Silence.

Ellis turned to his left and walked out of my line of sight.
I started to follow.

“Let him go,” said Nathan.

“Why?”

“You know why,” he snapped. “You have no idea of the sins
that man has committed. You have no idea what he has done! He deserves to die!
He deserves to burn in hell!”

I swallowed hard.

“We all deserve to burn in hell, Nathan. Why did you call if
not to negotiate with me?”

“If you want to intercede there is a way,” he said. “The
General was to die on Eads Bridge. If you get there first, I’ll let you plead
your case.”

“How do I know you’re not already there?” I asked.

“You’re a true believer, James,” Nathan said. “Have a little
faith.”

The phone went dead.

I ran for the door, shoving it open, nearly falling down the
steps. I hated the idea that I could die over something so stupid as tangling
up my feet when Ellis was depending on me.

That was when I realized that Isaac was nowhere to be
found.  I looked up the street then down. Nothing. I saw a college student walking,
listening to his music.

“Eads bridge?” I asked.

He told me. I slid behind the wheel and fired the ignition.
I pulled out into traffic and rocketed down the road. I checked my pockets
between shifting and found the earpiece to my phone. I slipped it on and drove.

Nothing moved fast enough. I crushed the gas pedal,
clutched, up-shifted, and gas again. My phone rang. I hit the button without
looking.

“Nathan?”

“It’s Isaac.”

“Nice time to bail, man.”

“I was trying to find a cop, Jim,” he said, irritated.

“Good plan, glad you’re not here. I’d have a lot to confess
later.”

Isaac scoffed.

“Listen, I’m on my way to Eads Bridge,” I said. I told him
where I was and he told me how to get there. “I need something else.”

“What?”

“I need you to find the names of anyone who died under the
Senator’s command in the last few months of his command,” I said.

“I already know the answer to that,” Isaac said. “There were
two men who died under Ellis’ last command.”

“Who were they?” I asked.

“One was Gibson Pollack: served in Iraq and died of
complications after serious injuries in combat.”

“Who was the other?” I asked.

“Your brother, Thomas Marlowe,” Isaac said.

The news hit me like a baseball bat to the chest. I couldn’t
breathe. I knew that Tom had been in the Rangers. I hadn’t realized that he’d
been under Ellis’ command at the time.

“Okay,” I said. “Anything else on this Gibson Pollack?”

“I ran the name back through the system and came back with
something.”

“Well?”

“He’s the nephew of Blake Harrison, his opponent in the
presidential race,” Isaac said.

“You think Harrison has anything to do with this?” I asked.

“If there’s anything that could make someone take extreme
actions like this, that could be it.”

“The bridge is coming up,” I said. “Gotta go.”

That’s when I saw him. Ellis was standing in the middle of
the road. The bomb that had been strapped to him was gone. Cars streaking by on
either side of him. Horns honking. Ellis reached out a hand plaintively,
tentatively reaching for safety. A passing car’s side mirror clipped his hand,
snapping bone. He howled in pain, clutching his hand. His eyes still
blindfolded, he shuffled in place, unable to flee.

The phone rang, and I hit the speaker without answering.

“I won,” said Nathan.

I didn’t bother to answer. I dropped the phone and aimed the
car for my father. I pulled the parking brake and skidded the car across
traffic. I bailed out of the passenger door, banging my knee on the shifter.
Paying it no mind, I ran for Ellis.

“Dad!” I yelled. Ellis turned, and I hit him in a running
tackle like a linebacker. Air rushed from his lungs, but I had no time to stop.
I ran as fast as I could manage, trying to get to the side of the road. Behind
me, I heard a horn sound and a moment later the shrieking crash of metal. I had
Ellis over my shoulder, running for the shoulder.

That’s when I saw the Cuda tumble through my field of
vision, plowed over by another driver. If Chris Beck had wanted me to use his
car to save my dad, he could hardly ask for more.

I looked at Ellis and pulled off his blindfold. His eyes
were wide with fear. His bottom lip trembled.

“Are you going to be alright?” I asked.

He started to nod in an automatic affirmative, stopped.

“What?”

Ellis clutched his chest and stiffened. He was having an
attack. Panic attack or heart attack, I did not know. I couldn’t say. I
loosened his collar, my eyes darting around for wheels. Anything, quick. I
couldn’t wait for an ambulance.

I stood and waved down a car that was slowing for the
accident. I tried not to think about the Cuda. The vehicle was an SUV, but only
one driver was in it. A woman.

“I need help!” I called, lifting Ellis to his feet, while
trying to wave for her to stop with my other hand. She braked, reluctant to
stop, but doing it anyway out of guilt or compassion or both.

“What’s happened?” she asked. Ridiculous question, and she
knew it.

“I think the Senator is having a heart attack,” I said. “We
need to get him to the hospital.”

She unlocked the doors without a second thought. I felt a
pang of guilt for using his position to gain her favor, but only for a moment.
Then we were in the back of the car, door closed.

“Please, the nearest hospital,” I said.

The ride was a blur of honking horns with this woman
screaming at cars in plaintive cries and occasional hysterical rants. I did my
best to make Ellis comfortable, but he was inconsolable. I put my arm around
him and prayed. Tears stung my eyes on the ride.

Dear Lord…

A car nearly slammed into us as she ran a red light.

Please don’t take him yet…

Screeching tires as she took a corner hard, oversteered,
corrected.

I’m not ready to lose him yet…

Car lurched to a stop.

“We’re here,” the woman said.

I opened my eyes and saw that we were outside of the
emergency room.

“Thank you,” I said as I pulled Ellis from the car. ER techs
rushed to our aid, having seen our dilemma. They put Ellis on a gurney and
rushed him away for examination.

I found myself standing alone in a waiting room. I scuffed my
boot on the floor, and gathered my thoughts. I pulled my phone from my pocket
and dialed.

“Hello?” it was Isaac on the third ring.

“Isaac, we’re in the hospital. Ellis had a heart attack,” I
explained. He asked where and I told him as best I could.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” Isaac said.

“I need to find Blake Harrison.”

“James, do you really think he had something to do with
this?” Isaac asked.

“Somebody wants my father dead. Blown up, run over or
grabbing his chest. I want whoever is after him, Isaac.”

“But Blake Harrison?” Isaac said.

“Where is he?”

I realized that my voice was raised. The charge nurse was
glaring at me. Not that I cared, but I didn’t want to attract attention and
that tough old nurse could probably whip my ass.

“Harrison is booked to speak at a fundraiser,” Isaac said.
He gave me the address of a venue that was well-known locally. “James, listen
to me. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You know me,” I said.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said. “I’m not posting your
bail.”

I rang off and headed for the door.

“Mr. Marlowe?” The voice came from behind me. I turned and
saw a doctor in scrubs jogging toward me.

“Yes, sir?” I said.

“I have some news about your father,” he said. “I’m Dr.
Danforth.”