The List Conspiracy (Wallis Jones Series 2016)
Martha Carr
Chapter One
The stout, elderly Episcopal priest pressed the palm of his hand hard against his chest, willing the sharp jolt of pain to go away, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he moved as fast as he could along the crowded sidewalk without bringing attention to himself.
There was no time to stop and catch his breath.
His heel caught the edge of a curb as he stumbled, falling against a man who was busy scanning the crowd. The Reverend looked directly at the man and relaxed his face for a moment, trying to look unconcerned.
He quickly took in the expensive clothing and the rigid posture that was out of place at a St. Patrick’s Day parade in downtown Savannah. He moved out of the man’s reach just in case he had fallen into a trap.
“So sorry, my son,” he said, as he smiled and turned away before the man could answer. The other eight members of his Order would already be out walking the grid and he could feel the seconds ticking away, faster by the moment. He caught a glimpse of the minister from the nearby Diocesan office walking through the crowd, shaking the occasional hand as he made his way toward his first appointed drop point in the other direction. Too many clerics headed in one general direction would have caught someone’s eye, even in this crowd.
Time was running out. They needed to find the Keeper, or at least the thumb drive that was always with her.
“Thy will be done,” he mumbled, trying to calm himself as he hurried, pushing through the throngs of revelers that lined both sides of Liberty Street straining to see the parade.
His knotted hand loosely gripped an old copy of the Book of Common Prayer. He had hurried out of St John’s rectory not realizing the small book was still in his hand.
He could see the Six Pence Pub through the crowd that was still gathering along East Liberty for the parade. There was a tight knot of early morning drinkers spilling out of the bar’s door, most of them holding mugs of green beer and laughing too loudly for a Saturday morning. Several were wearing large plastic sunglasses with the words Beer Goggles painted around the edges.
Reverend Michael squeezed past a group of girls standing in the doorway who were giggling at the antics of the men at the bottom of the front steps. He pushed through just as the same man from earlier caught him by the elbow at the bar.
“Reverend, do you have a moment?” he asked, gripping the parson’s elbow tightly.
A Watcher had identified him.
The cleric straightened out his other arm, letting the small, thin knife slide forward into his palm. He swiftly thrust the tip of the blade into the man’s side hard enough to make him recoil but not enough to cause more than a shallow puncture. The Watcher let go as the cleric shoved him hard enough to topple the man into the crowd, green beer sloshing everywhere.
“The drink will kill you one of these days, son,” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran through the kitchen and out to the small office in back.
The owner was nowhere to be seen but there wasn’t time to find him. The Reverend quietly shut the office door and locked it, shoving a chair under the handle. He grunted and felt another sharp pain in his chest as he pulled the large filing cabinet away from the wall. The cabinet teetered as a drawer suddenly popped open, nicking the cleric in the ribs just beneath old, ropey scars made the same night years ago, when his hand was crippled. He dropped the small prayer book and took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around the cabinet as he shoved with his hip.
It slid over just enough to reveal a low, wooden door. He pulled out the small flashlight dangling from his keychain and shone the black light on the wooden frame.
The mark of the saltire was there with the right key of excommunication drawn in haste over the left for absolution. The Episcopal symbol was reversed. So Carol was still alive and knew she was in trouble.
Two short diagonal lines next to the two keys meant she was making a run for the Pirates House right by the river. He could feel his heart beating faster as he saw her final mark. The thumb drive was still with her. They were too close to her for her to take a chance by leaving it at any of the checkpoints.
Reverend Michael got down on his hands and knees, feeling the thick scars that wrapped around his waist straining as he quickly crawled through the opening. There was no time to worry if someone would follow behind him. There was only a question of who would get to the river first.
He passed out of the hidden door onto East Perry Lane and started to move faster, leaning forward until he was falling into a run.
He ran through the center of Oglethorpe Square and came out onto East State Street trying to pick up speed.
“Reverend Michael, are you alright?”
It was a parishioner walking with her family in the direction of the parade.