Webster waved theatrically. ‘Does it appear convincing enough to you?’ He jostled one of the corpses with a foot. ‘There are a lot of bodies out in the streets waiting to be claimed.’
Not believing what he was seeing, Lourds glanced at the rest of the people in the room. No one seemed surprised or appalled. Lourds didn’t know if it was because of Lucifer’s powers or because the others had invested so heavily in the outcome of Webster’s machinations that they didn’t care.
Reaching down, Webster dabbled his fingers in the fresh blood from one of the dead men, then carefully streaked his face with it. He grinned like a child at Halloween. ‘Effective, yes? Everyone will believe this is my blood.’
Lourds didn’t say anything.
‘Come now, Professor. In your profession, with all the lectures and the attention, you must have developed a sense of the theatrical.’
‘Not this,’ Lourds said. ‘I’ll never develop anything for this except revulsion.’
Webster chuckled and applied blood to the back of one of his hands. ‘The devil is in the details, Professor. Haven’t you ever heard that?’
Lourds remained silent.
‘Now, I’ve got a plea to make. One that will bring American military forces into this country in a way that has never before been seen, and one that will not be tolerated by Prince Khalid or the rest of the Middle East.’ Webster nodded at a woman. ‘Let’s do this.’
A camera crew walked in front of Webster and the lights came on.
Silently, Lourds watched and hoped that Cleena and Joachim were somewhere near.
‘I’m in.’
Cleena stood outside the stairwell door and gazed down the corridors. Guards stood at posts. ‘Good. Now find Lourds for me.’ She held her pistol in both hands.
‘Got him. Two rooms over. Hey, the television news stations just broke for a special news bulletin coming live from Vice-President Webster.’
That, Cleena thought, can’t be good.
She went through the door, raising the pistol and shooting the first man in the face as he tried to bring up his rifle. Joachim and the monks followed.
‘My fellow Americans.’ Webster spoke into the microphone. ‘I come to you in a moment of dire straits. As you know, I came to Saudi Arabia on a peacekeeping mission. Unfortunately, things have gone badly awry here and I haven’t been as successful as I’d hoped.’
Lourds gritted his teeth and bit back a scathing retort that he felt certain wouldn’t be well received.
‘Now I find myself in as much danger as I’d hoped to save you from,’ Webster continued. ‘I’ve attempted – several times – to negotiate some kind of ceasefire, but I believe I’ve reached an impasse.’ He waved his hands to include the dead bodies around him. ‘As you can see, several of the support crews here have given their lives trying to help me.’
As Lourds gazed around the room, he was surprised to see that a few of the television crew were openly weeping. He was certain they’d known none of the dead people.
‘At this point,’ Webster said, ‘I feel I have no recourse other than to ask the president to issue orders that-’
The door burst open as Cleena, Joachim, and the monks filled the room. Automatic gunfire filled the room. Lourds threw himself to the floor and noticed that Eckart did the same. A trio of bullets thudded into Webster’s chest. Surprised, he glanced down and saw blood seeping into his shirt.
Then the room became hell on earth as bullets tore through the air and the monks threw flash-bang grenades into the room. Several of the television cameras became instant casualties of live rounds. The camera crews scrambled for safety.
‘Get Lourds!’ Webster yelled. He was lost somewhere in the haze of smoke and bright lights from the flash-bangs. ‘Get Lourds now!’
Eckart grabbed Lourds and yanked him to his feet. As Webster ran for a door on the other side of the room, Eckart dragged Lourds after him.
More shots rang out.
Desperate, not wanting the scroll to be lost, Lourds dropped and tangled Eckart’s legs in his. Eckart stumbled and fell, falling on top of Lourds in a loose-limbed sprawl. Adrenaline raced through Lourds’ body as he kicked Eckart in the face. Eckart fought back, but one of Lourds’ kicks caught him in the temple and knocked him out cold. Overcoming his surprise, Lourds grappled with the unconscious man and found a combat knife secured to his equipment vest. Holding the knife to cut the plastic cuffs was difficult, but Lourds managed.
Webster saw what was happening and rushed back toward Lourds. ‘No!’ He sounded desperate and near-hysterical.
Lourds took out the Joy Scroll and prayed. As he surveyed the symbols, his mind chugged through the final permutations to the solution of the puzzle. The rings hadn’t all revolved in a stack after all. They had fitted together on an axis forming a cross. Now he’d realized that, the translation – though still incredibly difficult – was at least doable. As he read, the characters on the scroll turned ice blue and the parchment felt freezing.
‘I name you Lucifer,’ Lourds said. ‘I name you defiler and destroyer.’
With an inarticulate cry of rage, Webster burst through the rolling scarlet fog from the flash-bangs and rushed at Lourds. Instinctively, Lourds took a step back, but before the vice-president could close on him, a shimmering force field appeared and held him back. Screaming and frothing at the mouth, Webster battered at the invisible wall.
‘Stop!’ he roared. ‘Stop!’
Lourds ignored him and continued. ‘I name you false and usurper. I name you deceiver and lord of lies. I name you tempter and vain pride.’
‘Would you like to know where the lost library of Alexandria is?’ Webster pleaded. His eyes looked hollow and yellow, like those of a rabid animal.
Lourds hesitated.
‘I can get you your heart’s desire,’ Webster promised. ‘All these years you’ve searched for the library. I can fix it so you can find those books. Everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s yours just for the asking.’
For a moment Lourds imagined what it might be like to walk the halls of that great library. He’d had a taste of something similar when he’d found lost Atlantis. He’d even saved a few books from that event. Some of them he hadn’t yet translated.
‘I can give Alexandria to you,’ Webster said in a crazed voice.
It was the most temptation Lourds had ever faced. He felt his resolve weakening, then he pushed his desires away. He didn’t want someone to simply hand him the lost library of Alexandria. After all this time of searching for it, he wanted to find it himself. That was what the dream was all about: the search.
‘I name you,’ Lourds continued, focusing on the task at hand, drawn by the solution he’d worked out, ‘so that others may know your falseness, too. Let each man whom you have befriended recognize you as no friend from this moment on. Let those who think they know your love recognize only the manipulation you offer. In the name of Almighty God, I banish you from this disguise you have woven for yourself.’
When he stopped reading, Lourds didn’t know what to expect. Webster still stood before him, but the man looked hammered, totally defeated. Slackness drained the anger and fear from his face. The smoke from the grenades swirled up around Webster and obscured him. Fearful, heart hammering in his chest, Lourds waited for him to come at him through the smoke. Then the scarlet haze cleared, and when it did – Webster had disappeared with it.
‘Don’t just stand there,’ Cleena said as she joined Lourds. ‘You’re going to get shot.’
Holding onto the scroll, Lourds took cover behind a desk. Most of the gunfire had died away.
‘Where is Webster?’ Cleena reloaded her weapon.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did he leave?’
‘I read the scroll to him.’
Cleena glanced at him. ‘You translated it?’