The Cult (16 page)

She gestured with her hand, motioning for him to give her the bottle.

He placed it in her hand and she swigged down the two pills with a mouthful of liquor, then looked up at him and smiled. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “No problem.”

She pushed herself up. “I need to take a bath.”

“You need any help?” he asked, winced.

She smiled, took his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, I’ll take it from here.”

He nodded, gathered the braid and needle and dirty towels, then closed the door softly behind him as she started pulling off her panties.

Then he remembered what she reminded him of.
 

A cat.
 

A big, sleek, wild cat, like the ones he had seen in Guiana.

Bishop Daniel McGill rocked and pushed himself up from the sofa when he heard a rap on the door. He sauntered to the door and look through the peephole, but all he saw was a man’s chest. He opened the door an inch and peered outside, then looked up at the tanned face of a blue-eyed man in his late middle-ages. He had salt-and-pepper black hair and deep crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Bishop Daniel McGill?” the man asked with a frown.

“Yes?”

“My name is Bruce Bryden, I’m Alexa’s adoptive dad. Is she here?”

McGill regarded the man with suspicion. “Wait here,” he said and closed the door in the man’s face. He rushed upstairs and rapped on Alexa’s bedroom door, then pushed it open an inch. “Alexa, you awake?”

She turned in her bed, sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

She sat upright. “I’ve been out for two days?”

He nodded.

She slipped out from under the covers and scanned the room. “Shit! Where are my clothes?”

“They’re ruined, I had to throw them away.” He opened his daughter’s cupboard. “Help yourself to any of these. Ruth was a bit bigger than you, but you should find something that will fit.”

She cast him an appreciative smile and started rummaging through the contents of the closet.

“Alexa, a man called Bruce Bryden is downstairs.”

She swung around. “My dad?”

McGill nodded. “I wasn’t sure if it was him.”

Alexa nodded excitedly. “Six five, blue eyes, tanned?”

McGill nodded.

She shrieked and pulled on a pair of jeans, thumped downstairs. “Where is he?”

“Outside,” McGill called as she disappeared.

He heard her pull open the door and squeal in delight.

He sauntered downstairs and found them embracing in the entrance hall, her arms around his neck, he picking her up and kissing her forehead.
 

Damn, how he wished Ruth was still alive.

Alexa shifted in her chair. “How did I do, Dad?”

Bruce checked her wounds as he re-applied the bandages. “Sit still for a moment, Alexa.”

Alexa took a deep breath, placing her hands on her knees, trying to stop her legs from bouncing up and down. She needed to find Neil.

Bruce nodded his approval. “Okay, put your shirt back on.”

“How did I do?” Alexa asked again, slipping the T-shirt over her head.

“No broken bones, slight inflammation of the wound, I taught you well.”

“So I’m good to go?”

“As good as you’ll ever be.” He handed her a bottle. “Take these after meals. It’s Naproxen; it’ll help with the swelling and redness.” He looked at Alexa, concern furrowing his brow.

She took the bottle from him. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

“Neil’s GLD signal disappeared this morning.”

“Have you sent anybody to look for him?”

He pursed his lips, then gave a quick shake of his head. “Not yet, you were my first priority.”

Alexa sprang up and grabbed her leather jacket. “Then we need to go look for him, immediately.”

Bruce studied her face for a moment, smiled and hauled himself up out of his chair. “Okay, but shouldn’t you get a new one first?” he asked, pushing a finger through the hole in her jacket.

“Nah, gives it character. Where do we start?”
 

Bruce strode to the door. “I guess the last place that we picked up his signal.”

“And where would that be?”

“And abandoned apartment block in East Vegas.”

“East Chapel Street?”

Bruce turned around surprised, nodded. “You know the place?”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“You’re wrong.”

“Wrong, why?”

“I don’t think it’s abandoned at all.”

Alexa pumped the brakes and pulled the panel van to a stop, tires screeching. She yanked up the emergency brake and was out of the door before the vehicle had come to a complete stop.

She strode forward and stood in the middle of East Chapel, looking up at the seemingly abandoned apartment block. A door slammed and Bruce joined her, surveying the building. Everything looked the same except for a newly added piece of graffiti on the wall that said, “Niners Suck Balls.”

The door to the side of the van slid open and a tall man stepped out, massaging his neck. “Excellent driving,” he said in a sarcastic voice. He looked around as more men piled out of the van. “Nice neighborhood.”

Alexa heaved a duffle bag from the van and dropped it on the sidewalk. “Pick whatever you need,” she said, looking from one man to the other.

Bruce unzipped the bag and pulled out a shotgun, looked up questioningly. “You sure about this? The place looks deserted.”

She slammed a magazine into her Glock and slipped it into her shoulder holster. Smiled. “Trust me.”

“How many do you think there are?” a short, stocky guy with day-old stubble on his face asked.
 

“A couple of hundred, give or take.”

He whistled and shook his head incredulously. “Give or take how many?”

“Ninety.”

“All in there?”

She nodded, waving them forward. “Come on, were wasting time, let’s go.”

She was worried about Neil. Bruce had managed to hand-pick half-a-dozen Interpol agents that he had pulled from their various assignments, and they had briefly discussed the infiltration procedure less than half-an-hour ago. She was met with a couple of weary looks when she told them that she didn’t have time to waste, she would make up the shit as they went along.

She could see some of the men look toward Bruce for leadership, but he simply held back, allowing Alexa to run the operation.

She shoved open the door and didn’t bother with the lift, marching straight to the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time, the men following close behind. On the third flight, she paused for a moment, then saw the man she was looking for. The bum who had busted her held a pistol on his lap, he was sleeping, his head sagging to the side as he snored loudly. He wore a ragged jacket and torn jeans and had a black hat on his head, the type the guys wore in the gangster movies.
 

Alexa strode over to him and the men behind her yelled in dismay and shock as she shot the guy in the leg.

The man woke with a start, looked down at the smoking hole in his leg and then back up. “What the hell have you done you stupid cow?” he whimpered, clutching his leg.

She pointed the gun at him. “Shut up and stay down!”

Bruce stood beside her, tapped the wounded man’s leg with the toe of his shoe. “This the guy?”

Alexa nodded.

Bruce kneeled beside the man. “See our partner around here?”

The man’s lips quivered. “Your partner?”

Alexa cocked her gun, jammed it into the man’s temple. “Yeah, someone decent, not like the rest of you.”

The man scrunched his eyes closed, nodded a couple of times. “Six two, big guy?”

“That’s him,” Bruce said.

“Yes, yes. He’s here.”

“Where?”

“In the lab, fourth floor,” he whimpered.

Alexa nodded and scrambled up the stairs.
 

“Aren’t you going to call me an ambulance?” the wounded guy hollered.

Alexa stopped, turned around. “Sorry, they don’t make house calls around here, too dangerous.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he sobbed, looking down at the wound.

“Just wobble along to the nearest bus stop or something.”

“But that’s miles away.”

Alexa smiled. “Good, you need the exercise.” She signaled the men to follow her. “Hurry, they probably know we’re here, we don’t have much time.”

They made it to level four before without incident when Alexa lifted a fist. The men stopped behind her. “Hear that?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

Loud footsteps were pounding up the stairs, voices babbling excitedly. “Okay, they’re here,” Alexa shouted, double-checking her magazine before smacking it back into the gun. “Get ready and cover our asses.”

She swung open the doorway to the fourth floor and pulled back as shots barked and a salvo of bullets splintered the wooden door. She signaled to Bruce who nodded at her, showing her two fingers. She glanced around the side of the doorway. Two men were kneeling at either side of the hallway, weapons drawn. She lifted the Glock to her chest and glanced at Bruce. “Cover me.”
 

Bruce nodded and Alexa fired a tight burst of shots, then slipped around the corner and took careful aim at the ducking men as Bruce provided covering fire. She double tapped the trigger, her target grabbing his throat as the bullets found their mark. The guy to her left managed to fire one shot into the ceiling before Bruce took him down.

They looked back, Bruce peering over the railing and looking down the stairwell, ripping his head back as a bullet ricocheted off the metal rung. “Guess our escape route isn’t feasible anymore?”

Alexa lifted her shoulders, peered into the foyer of the fourth floor. “Never was the plan. Infiltrate, exterminate, remember?”

She ducked back as an automatic machine gunfire sputtered and stitched holes in the wall behind her. She unclipped a hand grenade from her belt and tossed it into the hallway. Panicked shrieks and then a deafening blow and the noise of glass breaking as the impact shattered the windows in the hallways. She cautiously peered around the corner. A guy with a black goatee was rolling around, clutching his ankle. It didn’t have a foot attached.

She double-tapped the trigger and finished the man off. The men behind her piled out of the door, guns held ready. “Where to?” Bruce asked.

Alexa surveyed the entrance hall, her gaze panning past the dozen or so doors to either sides of the hallway. “Dad, you take the left hallway, I’ll take the right.”
 

He nodded, then directed three men to follow him.

She cautiously made her way to the end of the passage, tried the door. It was locked, as she had expected. She turned to the shorter man. “What’s your name?”

He smiled. “Ray Beal.”

“Well, Ray, do you mind doing the honors?” she whispered, gesturing toward the door.

He showed her the thumbs up, stood back and thumped his foot into the door, once, twice. On the third try the door splintered open and Alexa barged inside, scanning the room. It was empty. They followed the same procedure as they moved along the passageway, kicking open doors, clearing the rooms.

Alexa stood aside as the guy prepared to kick down the second to last door in the hallway, but as his foot connected with the door, it exploded out and Alexa dove for cover, her hands over her head. She coughed and pushed herself onto all fours,
 
trying to see through the smoke. She crawled forward to where she thought Beal should be and found his body, his lifeless eyes still open. He had large blast wounds to his torso and arms, the result of an RPG.

“Get down,” Alexa ordered the other men as she leopard crawled towards the door and peered around the corner. Two men were standing, one guy with the RPG resting on his shoulder and another loading another grenade into the weapon. They looked up as she stepped forward and fired twice, both men going down with fatal head wounds.

Alexa strode forward, pushing the rocket launcher away from them with her foot.

“Check the last room,” she ordered one of the men.

He nodded and marched outside.

Half-a-minute later, the man returned. “Empty.”

Alexa slipped her pistol back into her shoulder holster and rested a hand on her hip, looking around uncertainly. “Shit.”

Neil opened his eyes and blinked, turned his head to the side as he tried to familiarize himself with his environment. He stifled a moan as a sharp pain in his head sent a torturous jolt of pain through his head and neck. He felt light-headed and sick to the pit of his stomach, like he was suffering from one of the worst hangovers he had ever experienced. He tried to recall what had happened.