Stranger in the Night (19 page)

Liz glanced at Joshua. This time, she clearly read the message in his eyes. He was grateful she had joined Daniel Ransom in rising to his defense.

But those deep blue eyes told her much more than that. What she saw was love. Genuine admiration, passion, desire, devotion, commitment were written in the gaze across the
expanse of oak table. All those things Sam and Terell had insisted were true the night before shone with such clarity Liz could never mistake them.

Yet Joshua planned to leave on Saturday. And why not? Neither of them had been willing to admit their true feelings. And neither would agree to change the course of their life.

Liz sensed the depth of Joshua’s passion for her, and it frightened her. The thought of trying to recover after he left was enough to cause her to pick up her purse. But as she reached for her jacket, Sergeant Ransom’s words caught her attention.

“Platinum,” he said. “It’s a precious metal—looks like silver to me, but it’s more valuable than gold. In my years on the force, I’ve seen all kinds of currency on the street. Counterfeit bills, diamonds, drugs, prostitutes—you name it, if something has value, people will use it in trade. But this report about platinum changing hands has our people baffled.”

“Where’s it coming from?” someone asked. “Missouri doesn’t mine platinum, do we?”

“Definitely from out of state—probably out of the country. South Africa and Russia are the world’s largest producers. We can’t figure out who’s bringing it in. The stuff is rare and very expensive. What we do know is that it’s on the move. Someone has imported a large supply of platinum, and it’s gotten wrapped up in gang activity here in St. Louis. The Hypes seem to be playing a role in the movement of the metal, but we can’t pinpoint how they’re getting their hands on it. We would ask that you keep your ears tuned to any mention of platinum, especially if you can get a sense of who’s actually bringing it in.”

As he spoke, Liz looked down at her hands. On special occasions, she wore the wedding ring that once belonged to her great-grandmother. At her sixteenth birthday party, her father had slipped the ornate platinum circlet set with three diamonds onto her finger. It had cost a fortune, he told her,
but the Wallace family was wealthy in the early days. Through passing generations the affluence had eroded—bad investments, the Depression, a costly divorce. Now all that remained was the ring.

Deciding to study it more closely that evening, Liz stood as Daniel Ransom concluded the meeting. And then Joshua was at her side.

“The Claymore shipment,” he said, speaking in a low voice as he took her elbow. “Intercepted it. That’s why Ransom didn’t mention it just now. We got the thing off the street.”

She caught her breath. “Last night?”

“After I left you, I went looking for Mary Rudi. I found something a lot more interesting to the police.”

“Listen, Duff, I contacted the Feds.” Daniel Ransom joined them as they left the conference room. “Sorry to interrupt, Liz, but I need to talk to Duff before you two get away. You can hear this, too, but don’t forget the task force is sworn to secrecy.”

“Of course,” she said.

“The ATF suggested we notify the FBI,” Ransom told Joshua. “Two agents from the Joint Terrorism Task Force are on their way here. They arrive this evening.”

“You planning to do what I suggested?”

“It’s risky, but we think it’s the right thing.”

“Wait.” Liz held up a hand. “What’s going on here?”

Joshua spoke. “Last night while I was hunting my missing refugee, I learned the police had good information about arms movement in the city. My contact told me that a local dealer tied to the Hypes was offering military hardware for sale—hand grenades, a fully automatic M-16 rifle. And a Claymore mine.”

“For several months, we’ve been working to link the Hypes to the weapons trade,” Ransom told Liz. “But we began to figure out that most of the kids aren’t real criminals. They’re just pimple-faced misfits and social outcasts.”

“They were until Mo Ded pulled them together,” Joshua clarified. “Now they’re killers.”

“Killer wannabes. All the same, few of them have felony convictions. That meant our usual charge—felon in possession of a firearm—wouldn’t work. But selling a firearm to a convicted felon carries the same maximum penalty as being a felon in possession.”

“What’s the sentence?” Liz asked as the three walked down the hall toward the side door of the precinct building.

Joshua answered. “In this state, selling a firearm to a felon will get you ten years in prison. Ransom figured if he could put Mo Ded away on that, the gang would fall apart. So he enlisted an informant with a felony record to start buying guns.”

“Hold on—did you say
ten years
is the max for firearms charges?” Liz asked. “That doesn’t sound like much.”

“You take a gangbanger like Mo Ded off the streets for ten years, that’s something,” Daniel told her. “We’ve been using our snitch to buy assault rifles, sniper rifles, combat shotguns, pistols, even hunting rifles. Almost all the weapons had been involved in crimes. Two were linked to murders. One to armed robbery. Another played a part in the killing of a police officer. Several of them were used in drive-by shootings.”

“So, you’re clearing the streets and linking the weapons to Hypes,” Liz said as they emerged and started down the steps to the sidewalk. “This guy who’s been selling weapons—is it Mo Ded?”

“No. He’s working with Mo Ded, though. Taking orders, bringing in what the Hypes want. We still have some dots to connect before we can tie Mo Ded to direct criminal activity.”

“But your seller did have the Claymore?”

Daniel nodded. “After Duff contacted us last night, our informant talked to him. The guy didn’t want to let go of it. Said
he’d promised the mine to someone else—brought it in on special order. But eventually our man was able to buy it.”

He fell silent. Liz pondered the information. Someone—probably Mo Ded—had wanted a mine. The rumor that gang members intended to lure the police into an ambush must be true.

No doubt the Hypes were keeping a close watch on the cops. Certainly they knew as much about the movements of the force as the police knew about gang activity.

Kill or be killed.

Liz recalled the gruesome tales of genocide she had heard from refugees. Then she flashed on the memory of Stephen Rudi, head bowed, shoulders heaving in anguish over the wounding of his son.

What answer was there for such evil in this world? he had asked. Then he answered his own question. God.

As Liz studied the busy street, she struggled to feel His presence. The two men continued their discussion.

“The FBI will disarm the mine for you,” Joshua predicted to Daniel. “Did you ask them about installing a tracking device?”

“Yes,” the officer replied. “They told us they will render the Claymore inert. Then they’ll wire it so we can follow its movements.”

Liz shivered as a chill wind bit through her jacket. “If the Hypes can afford to buy a Claymore, can’t they buy almost any explosive?” she asked. “And what about the platinum suddenly showing up? This sounds much bigger than gang activity. It makes me wonder if Mo Ded really is who we think he is. I almost hate to ask—but is all this somehow tied to global terrorism?”

Joshua shot a look at her. “I’m checking into that. It’s possible.”

Memories of the green-eyed stalker making her shudder, Liz turned to the police officer. “Daniel, why don’t you arrest Mo Ded? Surely you can get him on some kind of charge and take him off the street.”

“We don’t want to do that until we can lock him away for a long time,” Ransom said. “He’s too dangerous. We’re putting the Claymore back out there. We’ll track its movement, see what Mo Ded is up to. Duff, I want you to keep a close eye on Haven. If the violence on that street keeps heating up, we’ll have to shutter the place.”

“You can’t do that, man. It’s all the kids have. GED classes, the single moms’ nursery, job skills training, sports. Now the new outdoor rec area. Haven is doing too much good in the community. You close it down and you’ll be playing right into Mo Ded’s hands.”

“We’ll do what we have to do to keep the city quiet. Thanks for coming to the meeting, Duff. I really didn’t expect to see you again.”

The men shook hands, and then the police officer excused himself. As Joshua turned to Liz, she saw the desire in his eyes and knew what would come next. He would take her in his arms, hold her, kiss her. She would melt, and all her distress and confusion would dissolve. For a moment.

As he reached for her, she put her hand on his chest. “I didn’t expect to see you again, either, Joshua. You walked out on me last night.”

“I had to look for Mary Rudi.”

“You went hunting that Claymore, Joshua.” Hands in her pockets, she took a step toward her car. “Listen, I talked to Sam and Terell for a few minutes after you left. They said you’re doing well—adjusting and focusing. Most important, they confirmed that you’re leaving for Texas on Saturday. So, let’s acknowledge the facts and make everything easier on ourselves, okay?”

He looked away from her, his eyes a deep gray-blue. “What facts are you talking about?”

“The ones we keep admitting and then denying. For one reason or another, we’ve been attracted to each other. Things
have been good—intense but meaningful for both of us. Now we have to get on with life. I didn’t intend to see you today, Joshua. The truth is, I don’t want to see you again. I think you understand why.”

Nodding, he focused on her again. “I do understand. Out on the streets last night, I was working, but I was thinking, too. Thinking about you, about us. There’s no way around it. I love you, Liz.”

She caught her breath. “Don’t say that. Just don’t say it.” She reached for her car door. “I have to go.”

He grabbed her hand. “Don’t touch the car.”

“What?”

“Your tire.”

Liz looked down to find a streak of purple paint on the black rubber. “Oh, no.”

As she spoke the words, Joshua turned her into his arms, moving her under the protection of his body and rotating her away from the car.

“Across the street,” he breathed into her ear. “He’s watching us.”

A
s Joshua pulled the Cadillac away from the curb, his phone rang. When he reached for it, he saw that Liz was crying. In the passenger’s seat, head bent, she searched her purse for tissues.

“Duff here. What’s up, Pastor Stephen?”

“We need your help now.” The man’s voice was tight. “Those bad young men were outside. They broke windows.”

“Haven’s windows?”

“Yes, and they sprayed paint. We chased them away. So you must come. We have decided we shall go after them.”

“Hold on, now. You can’t do that. The Hypes are armed and dangerous. Does Sam Hawke know about this attack? Has anyone called the police?”

“We are all together in our decision—Sam, Terell, Raydell, everyone. We shall not call the police. Instead we shall go walking out there in the streets where our enemy is hiding, and we shall pray for them. You must come with us.”

“Whoa, now.” Joshua had been driving toward Refugee Hope, but he swung the car down a side street, made a U-turn
and headed for Haven. “This is not sounding good to me, Pastor. Can you put Hawke on?”

“I cannot. He has given me his phone for the purpose of calling you. He is very busy at this moment. We are making a small group here, a Christian army. And we shall go out in the name of God to pray for those who spitefully use us.”

“Pray?”

“Prayer-walking! Do you not know this?”

“Uh, no.” The last thing Joshua needed was a bunch of zealous civilians making some crazy march into enemy territory. He could see Liz was having no luck drying her tears. Reaching across her, he pressed the button on his glove compartment. Nothing inside but the owner’s manual and a map of St. Louis.

“Try this, honey.” He handed her the map. “It’s all I’ve got.”

He turned his attention to the street again—and the phone. “Do not leave Haven without me,” he ordered. “I know you have good intentions, Pastor Stephen, but this is not a smart way to handle the situation. Trust me. You need the police.”

“We have someone much better. We have God.”

“Yes, and God works through the police force. So that’s who we need to depend on to help Haven get through this crisis.”

“We shall prayer-walk until the enemy is defeated!”

“No. No, we will not do that. No walking in the streets.” All Joshua could see at the moment was a Claymore mine, small and green and rigged to spray shrapnel through the bodies of people he had come to love. The one he found the night before was being disabled, but there could be others.

“Do not leave that building, Stephen Rudi,” he warned. “You might be ambushed. There will be no prayer-walking.”

“Sir, which Bible name did you take when you became a Christian?”

“I didn’t take anyone’s name. I already had a name. Joshua.”

“Joshua—yes! Do you know what Joshua did—that great man in the Bible? He
walked
around the city of Jericho. And on the seventh day, what happened? The walls fell down. The enemy was defeated. Who was the leader of this great prayer-walk? Joshua!”

A low growl rising from deep in his chest, Joshua turned onto Haven’s street. He saw police cruisers out front, lights flashing. Someone had called them after all. Probably Hawke. Good. Maybe this prayer-walking business was just Stephen’s way of dealing with all the tension.

“How is Virtue this afternoon, Pastor?” Joshua asked, hoping to deflect the man’s focus until they were face-to-face. “Have you talked to the doctor?”

“My son is much better today. I was with him this morning, and he knows me. He smiles. He holds my hand.”

“Great. That’s good. Listen, I’m at Haven now. I’ll see you in a minute.” As he steered toward a parking space, Joshua glanced at Liz. She was sniffling, but not crying.

“Oh, baby.” He switched off the car and pulled her into his arms. “You scared me, girl.”

“What scared you? Me—crying? Joshua, you saw that paint on my tire. You saw Mo Ded looking at us from that storefront across the street. You found the Claymore last night. You know the kind of violence that’s going on in this city. And a crying woman scared you?”

“Liz, that other stuff is normal to me.
You’re
outside the range of anything familiar in my life. Why do you think I left you last night? I ran toward my comfort zone. The streets, the hunt, the danger. That’s where I feel safe. We had been arguing, remember? Arguing and fighting and wanting each other and all kinds of things I don’t know how to handle. I couldn’t take it. And now, more problems at Haven.”

Liz looked at the police cars. “So it appears.”

“Stephen Rudi is planning some kind of ‘Onward, Christian Soldiers’ march into Hypes territory. He wants to pray for the enemy.”

“Prayer-walking. It’s a good idea.”

“It’s insane. Did you hear what Ransom and I were talking about, Liz? Mo Ded is trying to buy a Claymore mine. He may already have a stockpile—mines, grenades, no telling what else. He wants to ambush the police—or some other enemy. I can’t let Stephen just walk into his hands.”

“Looks like it will be more than just Stephen.” She pushed open her door. “You’re in the crowd-management business now.”

Joshua focused on the large group of people gathered around the steps at the entrance to Haven, and his heart sank. This was not a good sign. He spotted Stephen Rudi under the awning. Arms waving, voice raised, he exhorted the crowd.

Before Joshua had time to unbuckle his seat belt, Liz was halfway down the sidewalk.

Throwing open his door, he strode toward the crowd. This was not going to happen. Stephen Rudi was Joshua’s refugee, his Pagandan, his charge. The man would do what he was told.

As he neared, Joshua took in the destruction the Hypes had wreaked. Broken bottles and beer cans littered the new rec area. Glass from shattered windows lay on the sidewalk. A purple gang sign had been sprayed on Haven’s outside wall. Again.

“Jesus is the only answer,” Pastor Stephen was shouting. His thick accent tinged with a British lilt held his audience spellbound. “We must love our enemies! We must pray for them! In my country—in Paganda—we experienced much violence. When one group attacked, the other went out seeking revenge. This is a cycle that never ends. But we are the ones who can stop it!”

Joshua worked his way through the throng and up the steps. “Pastor Stephen. Hey there, my friend.”

“Christ is the only way to change lives! We must reach out in love. We shall join together and pray for this city. For this nation!”

“No, we won’t,” Joshua muttered, linking his arm through the African’s. “Not today. Not here. Come on, Pastor. Let’s head inside where it’s warm.”

Stephen Rudi refused to budge. “We shall follow the example of Jesus!” he shouted, pumping a raised fist. “Like a lamb to the slaughter, He opened not His mouth! Like a sheep before the shearer, He was dumb!”

“And in we go.” Half lifting the smaller man off his feet, Joshua forced him toward the door. The pastor’s determination was no match for the ex-Marine’s strength.

Joshua called over his shoulder. “Excitement’s over, everyone. Head on back to what you were doing.”

But this crowd was not so easily dispersed. As Joshua propelled Stephen inside, the people followed. Pushing, edging their way into the building, they overwhelmed Raydell’s efforts to herd them through the metal detector. Duke, pacing restlessly, began to bark.

“Into the streets!” Stephen shouted. “Into the streets with prayer and love!”

“What’s going on here?” Sam Hawke left a pair of police officers and hurried toward the mob. “Duff, what are you doing?”

“Pastor Stephen, send the people outside,” Joshua ordered. Taking the man’s shoulders, he turned him toward the agitated group. “Do it now.”

Stephen didn’t miss a beat. “Go out and pray! Pray in the streets and in the shops and in your houses. Pray for God’s peace. Love your enemies!”

Joshua wiped a hand across his forehead as he watched Sam, Terell, Raydell and the police officers steer everyone back outside without incident.

Too close. Way too close.

“Any one of those people could have had a gun, Pastor Stephen,” he barked at the small African. “Any of them could have been with the enemy. Do not do that again. We’ve got enough trouble on our hands—”

“Are you gonna preach tonight, Pastor?” A young woman caught the African man’s arm. Her brown eyes glowed. “People are asking. We think you should preach out on the street. Help us pray for peace.”

“Yes. Of course I shall preach.” Stephen beamed as he waved at the stragglers. “We shall pray together!”

“Good! I’ll spread it around.” She slipped away.

“You will not preach out there.” Joshua urged the pastor toward the office near Haven’s front door. “Do you know who that female was? That was Shauntay. She’s the one who lured Raydell away from his duties the night I scuffled with the Hypes. The night Duke got stabbed. Pastor, that young lady is a gang queen.”

“She is not.” Liz stared him down. She had emerged from the crowd, and now she stood at the pastor’s side. “Shauntay told me she was framed by Mo Ded that night, and I believe her. Joshua, the people are hungry to hear Stephen. His message is good. Stop trying to silence him.”

“Every minute he stands out on that street, he puts his life in danger.” Joshua strained to keep the fury from his voice. “Pastor, your son is in the hospital right now with a bullet wound. You know the danger here. Why are you stirring up trouble?”

“I am stirring up peace!” The African squared his shoulders. “Sir, I am not one of your soldiers. I am in the army of God.”

“So am I. I’m a Christian, too, and you need to let me do what I do best. I promised to hunt down the punks who trashed the building today, and I will. I’ll bring them in.”

“And you must let me do what I do best, Joshua,” he countered. “You may hunt, but I must preach. Each must serve his place in the Kingdom. Now let us prepare for our prayer-walk.”

“Aw, man, this is a bad scene.” Terell Roberts joined them. “The police are saying they have to shut Haven down. They were just telling Sam and me that we don’t have enough control over the building—and now look what you did, Pastor. Bringing in a whole mob? That was a bad move.”

“I was preaching
outside
.” He pointed at Joshua. “This man opened the door.”

Joshua shook his head in dismay. “Listen, the crowd is gone and I’ll talk to the cops. We’re almost to the bottom of this gang thing. I’m closing in on Mo Ded, and I plan to do all I can to take him down before I leave St. Louis. I’ll give Sergeant Ransom a call. He’ll keep the building open for you.”

“What about the prayer-walk?” Terell asked as he approached with Sam a step behind him.

The edges of a trigger tickling at his nerve endings, Joshua scowled at the tall man. “A prayer-walk? Are you telling me you all agree with Pastor Stephen? You people want to leave this building and march straight into Hypes territory—with nothing but prayer to protect you?”

“What armor can be stronger than prayer?” Stephen asked. “We must go about doing good. We must take back this city for God.”

Joshua studied his fellow Marine. Head down, Sam Hawke clearly was weighing the situation. He would make the right decision. The man had served in Iraq during the worst days. He’d been through a lot and come out the other side. He understood the need for timing, for protection, for technique and patience.

“Would you lead us, Duff?” Sam lifted his head, eyes pinned on his friend. “If we walk through this neighborhood, praying the whole way, will you go ahead of us? We need you.”

The question sucked the air out of Joshua’s chest. “Are you serious about this, Hawke? You realize the kinds of arms those thugs have? We could step into an ambush and never come out.
Mo Ded would like nothing better than to take you out. You, too, Terell. The Hypes want Haven. They’ve declared war on you. And you want to walk right into their hands?”

“In prayer.” Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think we can do that.”

Liz had never been so afraid in her life. Not during her visit to Congo. Not while touring a refugee camp at the edge of a battle-scarred no-man’s-land. Not in her apartment listening to gunfire in the alley below. Not even when Mo Ded had called, his voice recording the soundtrack of her future nightmares.

But that evening she was back at Haven anyway. After Liz returned to work and finished the day’s business, Molly had taken her to the police station where her car had been checked out and declared clean. Then Liz had hurried to her apartment, eaten a quick bite, dressed in jeans and driven to the youth center where a small band of prayer warriors—Haven staff, Stephen Rudi and a collection of passionate neighbors—had gathered. Mary Rudi had shown up at Haven sometime that morning with an explanation of her disappearance that no one really understood. Later, she went to the hospital to sit with Virtue. Several of the recreation center’s older volunteers agreed to watch Charity and other children while the adults went out. After instructions and warnings from Joshua and Sam, the group set off into the streets of St. Louis.

To her left, Liz held the hand of Ana Burns. The tall, beautiful, model-perfect fiancée of Sam Hawke had arrived not long after Liz. To the consternation of everyone, including Sam, she had brought a newspaper photographer.