Prophecy (17 page)

It felt wonderful to be out of her prison even for only a few hours. Mariah was delighted to see people who didn’t carry guns or weren’t actors on television. She was spotted immediately, but instead of crowding her, most people stayed a respectful distance away. Some waved and smiled, a few asked for her autograph, and she talked to several who just couldn’t resist getting a closer look. And one little boy, about seven years old, shared his M&M’s with her.

But for the most part, people kept their distance. It would be nice to think it was out of respect for her privacy. Maybe it was. But at the moment, because of what she’d done to Malchelosse and Hinckley, Mariah was convinced people stayed away from her because of what she was capable of doing. They would definitely not want to take any chances of antagonizing her.

The following day she packed Thomas’ suitcase. Along with the new jeans and shirts, she made a few trips to the walk-in closet and brought out garments that were already neatly folded. Had Giselle been on duty, alarm bells would have gone off in her head.

First, Thomas only planned to be gone for a week and there were enough clothes to last for several without doing laundry. Second, she might have suspected that some of the garments weren’t his.

But French and Bellini didn’t catch it. Packing was one of those things which ranked right up on the boredom scale with watching fingernails grow. They had a bad view when Mariah packed his toiletries in the bathroom—it was that blind spot Bellini had mentioned to Winters—so they never noticed that some of the things in the shaving kit bag would not have been used by a man.

Thomas left the next morning at eight o’clock. No one noticed anything unusual when he and Mariah kissed lingeringly at the front door. No one thought it odd for her to head back up to the bedroom and fall into a deep sleep for two hours. They also were uninterested when she woke, showered and dressed, then sat in the kitchen devouring half a dozen pieces of French toast prepared by Teddy Boles. And they only thought it mildly interesting when she spent the next couple of hours sitting in the chaise lounge in the back yard reading one magazine after another.

It was 1:15 pm.

Reuben Creel wandered out into the back yard at the same time Mariah stood up from the lounge chair and started doing stretching exercises. He felt terrible about her confinement, knowing how much it would depress him. When Raphael wasn’t around, he did things like lift weights with her in the makeshift gym, take walks with her around the house and talk. He was happy that she let him know how much she enjoyed the much needed distraction of his company.

He wanted to talk to her but was unwilling to interrupt. In those few seconds of hesitation, he lost the option. She said, her back still towards him, “Rueben, would you please do me a favor? Tell Agent Winters to join me out here.”

With a sigh, he headed back into the house and found Winters in his office. He relayed her message and left.

Without letting on the summons aggravated him and piqued his curiosity at the same time, Winters headed for the back yard.

Sensing his approach, Mariah admired his self-control. She’d been tormenting him ever since her discovery of the surveillance cameras, and the only reaction she had gotten from him was momentary flashes of irritability.

She was now ready to end these petty games.

“Nice weather we’re having, don’t you think, Gabriel?” she said, her hoarse voice suspiciously soft. He wasn’t surprised she spoke to him while he was still behind her.

“Yes, Ms. Carpenter, the weather is lovely.” He kept his tone neutral, wondering where this conversation was heading—and how exasperated he was going to be when it was over.

“I’d like your opinion on something, Gabriel,” she said. Coming up alongside her, he studied her profile as she gazed up the hill, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. Trying to maintain as casual an attitude as she, he stuck his hands in his pants pockets and gazed up the hill also. “Any time, Ms. Carpenter. Fire away.”

She chuckled; however, the sound was anything but pleasant. “Fire away ... interesting choice of words.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her head turn in his direction. Not to appear intimidated, he met her gaze. Unsure what had caused her amusement, but determined not to let her get under his skin, he said, “So, how can I help you?”

Gabriel Winters felt a sudden breeze kick up, the skirling wind causing leaves to become airborne and dust to dance suspended in the light. Mesmerized, he watched Mariah’s head drop, but her eyes stayed on his. Her pupils dilated until the irises were eclipsed. Those lemon-colored eyeballs; if he lived to be a hundred, he would never get used to...

His heartbeat quickened. The light yellow had darkened. He felt tightness around his chest. Fleetingly, he wondered if she was going to kill him.

The gust that stirred the air suddenly seemed to concentrate around Mariah with him receiving some of the backlash in the form of small pebbles hitting his back and shoulders.

“Please, Agent Winters—or whatever your title is in the CIA,” she snarled, her voice low and ominous, “as tempting as that sounds, you’re going to be around for a long time. I want to enjoy what your superiors are going to do to you after this.” His breath caught in his throat (
she knows!
) but before he could respond, she turned her gaze back to the trees at the top of the hill.

The surveillance van was a modified six wheel RV, the rear riding on two sets of dual tires while two singles supported the front. It had an on-board generator and a self-contained water supply. Several mini dishes were camouflaged on the roof, receiving audio and video signals from the cameras in the house. They also tapped into cordless and cellular phone transmissions.

The kitchen held a microwave oven and small refrigerator-freezer. The tiny bathroom had the necessities; toilet, coffin-like shower stall, sink. In the living area, a console with a bank of television monitors was mounted on the long wall opposite the door, while joysticks to adjust both camera positions and individual controls for the adjustable focus and zoom lenses sat on a metal bench beneath the console. On the opposite wall next to the door, a metal rack was bolted to the wall filled with audio and video recorders.

Mariah’s remark to Gabriel Winters about being in the CIA left Bellini speechless. Before he could turn to tell French what she just said, before he learned what the words “all hell broke loose” really meant, she said something that puzzled him, because it seemingly had nothing to do with her caustic remarks. Several hours later, when he and French were in the hospital being treated for a multiplicity of wounds, the meaning of her words would become clear.

Taking a few steps forward, Mariah said, in that gravel crushing voice, “It’s not
nice
to fool Mother Mariah.”

The van seemed to become possessed. The sync on the monitors was gone and horizontal lines started zipping across the screens. Scowling, Bellini watched as all of the screens blanked out at the same time.

All the frustration, anxiety, grief, and anger that Mariah had kept bottled up inside erupted with a convulsive force. She didn’t try to tamp down the emotions as both her hearts began to pound against her chest wall. Adrenaline roiled through her veins until her body vibrated from the rush. Her lungs expanded and contracted as if the Roman god, Vulcan, was fanning the flames in hell. Dumbfounded, Gabriel Winters stared at her—and missed seeing a faint blue haze form around the RV.

Before Bellini could show French what was happening to the monitors, his headset lost audio from the house and began to emit a high-pitched whine. Tearing it off his head and throwing it on the bench, he screamed, “
SHIT
!” as he clapped his hands over his ears. The pain began to diminish and the residual static-like noise in his head began to recede.

“What the fuck’s the matter with...” John French got no more out. The pager attached to his belt gave him a painful electric shock. Yelping, he ripped it off his belt and flung it on the floor, backing away and staring at it like it had suddenly become a venomous snake.

In the next instant, their cell phones went berserk. The ring cadence sounded like the blip of a heart monitor recording someone in fibrillation.

As the wind intensified and more debris hit him from behind, Winters saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Facing forward, his eyes bulged when he saw the haze of blue light surrounding the surveillance van turn violet. Shaking his head and blinking was not enough to make this nightmare vanish.

The lights in the van began to flicker. Seemingly rooted to the spot, Bellini and French heard the unmistakable sound of low vibrating tones similar to the singing of high tension wires. Seconds later, inch long sparks, like miniature lightning bolts, shot out of the console.

“I don’t know what the fuck’s happening but I’m outta here!” Andy cried, jolted out of his immobility. He shoved his chair out of the way then gave John French a push toward the door.

John reached for the door handle but never got it open. When his hand was just half an inch from it, one of the little lightning bolts arced to his fingers and gave him enough of a shock to send searing pain up his shoulder. He screamed and grabbed his throbbing arm, jumping backwards and slamming into Andy.

With a grunt, Bellini pushed French off him and dashed for the kitchen sink. Grabbing the dishtowel that hung over the edge of the sink, he folded it in several layers then sprinted back to the door.

Not more than a second after he passed the microwave oven, the door flew open and flames shot out with a scorching
voooof
!

The mini dishes on the roof were spinning crazily.

The electric generator, sounding like a popcorn popper on steroids, heaved and crackled until it fried itself.

All the audio and video equipment sizzled and smoked while every electrical outlet burst into flames.

Gabriel Winters couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak. For the first time in his life he was so flabbergasted that his jaw hung open.

A growl erupted from the back of Mariah’s throat as she howled,
“Hurry
.
.. up
...
you
...
Idiots
!”

After fumbling away precious seconds, Bellini finally managed to get the dishtowel wrapped around the door handle. Practically ripping it off the hinges, he hurled himself out—and hit an electrical force field. Spasms contracted every muscle in his body. He felt his eyebrows melting; his lungs felt like he’d swallowed fire.

Nevertheless, his forward momentum and his bulk were sufficient to launch him off the doorframe. Falling flat on his face, he was no more than five feet from the door. Stunned and trying to get his lungs working, he laid still, the smell of burning metal (not to mention his hair) making him cough violently.

Not a foot away, John French hit the ground with a thud, landing on his back. He moaned and twitched, nearly unconscious. Much smaller than Bellini, his body had absorbed more of the electric charge.

The haze around the RV intensified instantly, changing to the color of port wine. The sparks, now almost two feet long, shot out in every direction. One quarter of a mile away, Winters heard the explosions inside the van.

Andy Bellini began to crawl on all fours. Still dazed, he knew he and French had to get as far from the van as possible … and fast.

When he realized John was not behind him, he lurched to his feet, his wobbly legs threatening to buckle. With what little strength he still had, he grabbed his partner’s shirt collar and dragged him a few feet. Then he collapsed. He staggered to his feet again and, with a super human effort, pulled French up beside him. Half-dragging, half-carrying his partner, Bellini stumbled up and over the knoll, trying to put it between them and the van.

Fighting to stand erect in the battering wind that threatened to knock him off his feet, Winters stared at the van. Had he looked at Mariah, he would have been certain he’d been transported into a Wes Craven movie.

Mariah’s eyes were opaque. Her pupils not only obscured the irises, the black had bled into the yellow eyeballs creating a look that resembled a solar eclipse. Her lips were drawn back, her pointed teeth exposed in a grimace. The growls that emitted from the back of her throat enhanced the image of a wild beast.

Winters would have also noticed that her hands were slowly forming into fists.

As the ground began to shake, Bellini’s curiosity overcame his good sense and he inched back up the knoll so he could peer over the top. The nightmares he would have for years to come would be a constant reminder of what happens when you don’t keep your head down in a foxhole.

The deep purple haze brightened and divided into two fields that engulfed each end of the RV. As the bolts of electricity continued to discharge and the vehicle continued to tremble and rock from the explosions inside, Bellini saw the two light concentrations begin to coalesce—
in the shape of hands.

The gigantic hands grabbed each end of the van. He prayed it was an hallucination his mind manufactured brought on by the shock his body just received. With a thundering heart, Bellini heard the groan and pop of compressed metal as the energy fields (
hands, dammit, they were four-fingered hands
!) pushed and squeezed and crushed...

Like the eruption of a volcano, the vehicle exploded in the hemispherical shape of the collapsing energy fields. As the propane tanks ruptured, electrical sparks ignited the gas with a tremendous roar. A fireball formed where the tanks had been and burning debris spewed in every direction.

Engulfed in flames, a tire sailed over Bellini’s head followed immediately by shrapnel from the engine. The bathroom toilet launched out the side of the RV then rolled fifty feet down the hill before it landed upright, tilting at a forty-five degree angle.

Nothing touched the injured agents. Mariah Carpenter’s fury was not directed at the two men who were just doing their job. Instead, she focused on the vehicle, the symbol of the perfidy that caused her rage. Both men would have been killed by burning metal if, even in the midst of the wild devastation, she had not thought to erect a protective field over them.

The dry chaparral burst into flames, setting the uppermost sections of the hillside ablaze. Every tree within a hundred foot radius ignited as superheated wreckage landed in their branches.

Realizing that French and Bellini had to get out of there, Mariah psychically forced them up and out of their protective hole, satisfied when both half ran, half slid down the hill.

She calmed down instantly. Jamming her hands in her pockets, she said innocently, “Hmm ... bad short.”

Gabriel stared at her, trying to think coherently. Damned if she wasn’t back to her old self: eating M&M’s she found in her pockets, giving him a cocky grin and heading toward the house—
whistling
! The whole episode had taken less than six minutes.

When the explosions began, all the agents in the house came running, weapons drawn. Seeing that Mariah and Winters were safe, they stood off to the side and watched the devastation, as stupefied as their leader. Now Winters rounded on them. “Call the fire department and help those two guys coming down the hill. Get the water hoses and douse the house and the yard before the fire gets here.”

Ignoring the flurry of activity, Mariah headed for the back door.
So far, so good
. As she walked into the kitchen, something unanticipated happened that nearly caused the plan to unravel.

She expected all the agents to be out of the house and was astonished when she almost collided with Rueben Creel. Her surprise at seeing him was nothing compared to Rueben’s confusion—and fright—when he saw her.

Actually, what he saw was Mariah morphing into David Paradise.

He and Paradise were out the previous night eating a bushel of barbecued ribs. Unaware the meat was slightly tainted, both of them picked up a mild case of food poisoning and called in sick. Feeling better (as opposed to Paradise who was still pretty punk), Rueben decided to come in. But the effect of the food poisoning wasn’t completely out of his system and he’d been in the bathroom off the kitchen when the RV exploded. Just about to fly out of the house, he practically ran Mariah down as she headed up the hallway toward the front door.

Or almost ran down Paradise.

Who should
not
have been there.

Who had not been there a second ago.

Creel’s brain cramped as he stared at Paradise but it couldn’t be David he was sick but it
was
him...

“Rueben,” Mariah said in a soft but commanding voice as she locked eyes with him, “I know this is really confusing, but you’ll remember only this: David Paradise got better just like you did and came to work with you. You and he came back into the house after the van blew. And Mariah rushed by the two of you, heading for the stairs.”

At that moment Winters burst into the kitchen, nearly stumbling over the two who stood in conversation.

“Where the hell did she go, Paradise?” he shouted.

Mariah replied in David’s voice, “I was just coming out of the bathroom and almost bumped into her. She headed in the direction of the living room. Then I heard her on the staircase, so she probably went up to her bedroom.”

Taking a deep breath, Creel agreed. “That’s right, Agent Winters. I was out front when I heard the explosion, so I decided to come through the house rather than take the longer way around the outside. She brushed by me in the living room, heading for the stairs. She looked frightened.”

Mariah felt like she betrayed Reuben. Even so, she would not take the chance on him telling Winters the truth as his training dictated. She hated having to plant the scenario in his head, but it was mandatory for her plan to work. She’d come this far: she would not allow anything to stand in her way.

She/Paradise turned to face Winters and said, “Do you want me to get her?”

Creel was confused. Something just happened that stunned him, but his brain felt fuzzy, and he couldn’t remember what it was. He felt strangely good about something he’d done, but also a bit embarrassed.

The fire engines were close, evidenced by the wailing sirens. He shook his head, realizing he’d get a headache if he tried to figure it out.

As the fire trucks barreled up Mastenhege, Winters yelled to the person he thought was David Paradise. “Go upstairs and drag her ass down here if that’s what it takes. And don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

That damned bitch,
Winters fumed to himself as he headed out the back door,
she’s finally gone too far. She and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart over this one
.

The firemen were just hooking into the city’s water supply when two more sirens announced the arrival of the ambulances coming for French and Bellini.

Several minutes later, as the excitement began to die down, Winters frowned
. Where the hell were Paradise and that woman
? Suddenly, his eyes widened in remembrance.

Paradise called in sick this morning.

So had Creel, but he had been the one to deliver Mariah’s invitation to join her in the back yard. Winters dashed back into the house and ran into the living room shouting hers and Paradise’s name.

No response.

Deep down in his gut, he knew she was gone. And he knew what she’d done. Adrenaline threw him into high gear as he bounded up the stairs. Anxiety made him feel slightly nauseous while he frantically searched each room. His cursing got louder with each empty room he found.

Back downstairs a few minutes later, he found everyone in the living room staring at him as if he’d gone berserk. They heard him bellow as he moved from room to room but were not able to make out the words. However, they had no trouble understanding when he roared, “She’s gone. Gone! I want this entire city sealed off, including every means of public and private transportation
and
every road out.”

In a voice filled with anxiety, Creel said, “Do you think she’s been kidnapped? I mean, the explosion of the empty van was probably a decoy, right Agent Winters?”

Winters silently blessed the rookie for giving him an out. “My sentiments exactly, Creel. We’ve got to find her before whoever took her turns her into the most dangerous weapon this world has ever seen.”