Covenant A Novel

NEW COVENANT CHURCH

WASHINGTON DC


Kelvin Patterson walked around his desk as Senator Isaiah Black swept into his office with two staff on either side of him, extending his hand and smiling brightly.

“Senator, thank you for coming by at such short notice.”

Black’s jaw creased into a smile.

“My pleasure, Pastor, but we must be swift. The rally begins in an hour and I can’t afford to be late.”

Patterson nodded.

“I understand. Please,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs behind the desk, “take a seat.”

The senator sat down, his two guards flanking him. Patterson took his place behind his desk, folding his hands together for a moment, looking at his own two security guards as they appeared in the office doorway before speaking.

“The polls are with you, Isaiah. The people are following you, with or without the support of the alliance. I realize that now.”

“Faith is no match for good policy when the people need a leader,” Black said simply. “That is the true power of our Constitution.”

Patterson gritted his teeth as he smiled.

“Indeed, and we must make every effort to sustain our campaign to ensure that the wishes of the moral majority are carried through by Congress and the Senate.”

Black took a deep breath.

“What’s your point, Kelvin?”

“That perhaps we can find a compromise between the practicality of leadership and the enlightenment of spiritual guidance that I can bring to your administration.”

“It’s not my administration, Pastor.”

“Not yet, but soon it will be.”

Black shook his head.

“You still don’t understand, do you, Kelvin? You expect your influence to penetrate the halls of Congress and the Senate, in direct opposition to the very voters who have considered your support for my campaign and rejected it. Democracy is the will of the people, and they do not want your theocratic agenda influencing our administration.”

Patterson struggled to control his frustration. “The people know not what they do,” he insisted. “What would you say if I told you that I could make you more powerful than you can imagine.”

“There’s no role more powerful than the president of the United States.”

“There is one,” Patterson said. “You could join the Lord’s sons, if you wanted.”

Senator Black sighed, and slowly stood.

“This may surprise you, Pastor, but even if what you’re saying was true or even possible, I’d still say no. You want to know why?” Patterson raised an eyebrow. “Someone like you should never be allowed to wield power because no matter how well meaning your motives, you’d still be a dictator.”

Senator Black turned away and strode for the door. Patterson nodded once to the guards. Instantly, they shuffled closer together, barring the senator’s path. Black paused in front of them with his two security guards, and then laughed out loud and turned back to the pastor.

“What are you going to do, Kelvin? Keep us here? Half of the country is expecting to see me on television within the hour. Don’t you think they might come searching for me?”

Patterson stood from behind his desk, walking slowly around it and approaching the senator until they stood barely a meter apart, their respective security teams glowering at each other.

“Yes, Isaiah, I do. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

Black’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Patterson nodded to his men. Instantly, they produced pistols, standing clear of the door and aiming at the senator’s guards. Black’s jaw dropped open, and he turned to look at Patterson.

“Tell your men to stand down. Let’s keep this simple and without bloodshed,” said Patterson.

“You’re insane,” Black uttered in disbelief.

“The weapons,” Patterson insisted quietly.

Black looked at his men, and nodded once. Reluctantly, the two guards slowly lay down their pistols on the carpet. Patterson gestured to his men, and they grabbed the senator’s arms, pinning him between them. Even before he could shout out, one of them held a hand over his mouth as the other drove his knee into the back of the senator’s legs, forcing him to his knees.

Patterson watched as the senator was bound and gagged, and then smiled as he looked down into his eyes.

“Believe me, Isaiah, you will thank me for this before the night is over.”

For the first time since entering the room, Senator Black’s eyes betrayed the presence of fear, and Patterson felt an inexplicable rush of adrenaline surge through his veins.

“Bind and gag his men,” he said briskly to the guards. “And take the senator to the chamber.”





DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

WASHINGTON DC


Lopez drove into the airport’s industrial park, her path smoothed by calls from Larry Pitt at the First District Office to the airport’s administration facility. She could see the blinking lights of an aircraft taking off into the night sky, the airstrip marked by a seemingly endless line of glowing orange lights. The sound of jet engines on the hot night air reverberated through the chassis of her car as she cruised between valleys of steel shipping containers and pulled in near the edge of a large servicing pan, extinguishing her lights.

The servicing area was separate from the main terminals fielding domestic and international flights. Industrial units and hangars surrounding her were mostly darkened, long since closed for business. Lopez climbed out of the car, looking at a curved row of blue lights in the tarmac marking the boundaries of a taxiway. The jet would come in from there, and she would be in place to intercept it.

She placed a hand on her service pistol beneath her jacket.

“That’s far enough.” Lopez froze as the voice spoke to her from the darkness. “Show me the piece, slowly.”

Lopez obeyed, slowly drawing her weapon and holding it between thumb and forefinger as she turned around. Captain Louis Powell loomed from between two shipping containers, his pistol pointed at her. Lopez felt a sickening apprehension compress her stomach. The captain stared at her for a moment and then lowered his weapon.

“Lopez? What the hell are you doing here?”

Lopez swallowed. “Following some leads.”

Powell holstered his weapon and moved across to her. Lopez realized that she’d never before noticed how powerfully built he was.

“What part of being off duty are you failing to understand?” Powell asked.

“If the case is closed, then what the hell are you doing here?”

Lopez saw the captain’s larynx rise and fall as he swallowed, and above his voice the sound of two turbofan jet engines whined as a jet taxied toward them.

“You did the right thing telling me about Tyrell and the senator, but now’s not the time to get all smart-ass. Are the FBI on their way?”

Lopez knew that it wouldn’t take Axel Cain long to find out from Larry Pitt where she was, and when he did he’d bring half of the Bureau’s manpower down here with him.

“Axel Cain’s leading a boarding team,” she lied. “Just waiting on the paperwork. He’s been in contact with you about this?”

Powell nodded slowly, still not looking at her. Alarm bells rang like claxons in Lopez’s head, and she edged slightly farther away from Powell. Powell turned, jabbing a leather-gloved finger at her.

“If you two are so sure that there’s something in all of this, then where’s Tyrell now?”

For a moment, Lopez thought that she’d gotten it all terribly wrong, and that Powell really was trying to get to the bottom of the case. She opened her mouth to speak, and then her heart stopped beating in her chest. Beneath the soft black leather of Powell’s glove, the cuffs of his shirt were thickly stained with blood.

Powell’s expression wavered with concern as he caught the direction of her gaze. Lopez jerked her pistol up to point at the captain, but Powell’s arm smashed her weapon aside. A chunky fist slammed into her stomach and she gagged and folded over the blow, the strength leaving her legs as Powell hurled her against the steel wall of a shipping container.

A crack reverberated through her head as it struck the hard metal, her vision blurring as Powell tore her pistol from her grip. She felt the barrel jammed against her face, saw Powell’s features loom before her as the sound of the approaching jet reached deafening proportions.

“Move!” Powell shouted.

Lopez was shoved toward the Gulfstream V550 that had parked within twenty meters of them.

“You’ll never get away with this shit,” Lopez shouted above the engine noise.

Powell didn’t respond as he manhandled her alongside the Gulfstream. As the engines wound down, she saw the fuselage entrance door open and a set of steps unfold with a mechanical buzz. As soon as it touched the tarmac Powell propelled her up the steps, the pistol still wedged against her head.

As she reached the doorway, a tall man blocked her way. A pair of clear, cold eyes locked onto hers, narrow irises floating in gray discs. They took in the pistol at her neck and Powell holding her before the man stepped back and out of the way.

“We’ve been compromised,” Powell snapped as he shoved Lopez into the aircraft. “Get the consignment off but leave the crate on.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” the man said, Lopez detecting a hint of a Chicago accent.

“The plan’s over!” Powell boomed, and shoved Lopez toward the man. “Empty the crate and get those remains out of here. When you’re done, put her inside the crate.”

Lopez was caught in the man’s iron grip as he looked at Powell.

“What are you going to do to her?”

Captain Powell looked down at Lopez. “You’re the last remaining link, Nicola. Once you’re out of the picture everything goes back to normal. I’ll make it quick, but I’m afraid you’re going out to sea.”

Lopez felt acid seething through her veins as an image of Lucas Tyrell lying dead in the apartment filled her mind.

“Just as gutless as I thought you were.”

Powell’s eyes flared and he struck out at her with the back of his hand.

Lopez flinched, but was surprised to see the hand of the man holding her flick out and block Powell’s blow easily. Even before she had registered what was happening, she felt herself being spun away as the man with the cold gray eyes rushed forward, gripping Powell’s gun hand in his own while driving the points of his fingers into Powell’s eyes. Powell growled and stumbled back, trying to swipe the hand away. In an instant, Lopez’s savior stomped on the inside of Powell’s left leg while twisting his gun arm up and away from his torso.

Powell’s gag became a brief scream as his shoulder dislocated, and Lopez heard a popping sound as the tendons snapped in his wrist, the pistol dropping onto the Gulfstream’s carpeted floor.

Lopez scrambled to her feet as the man grabbed the pistol and stood back from Powell’s crumpled form.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked.

“Ethan Warner,” the man replied, keeping the weapon trained on Powell. “You?”

“Nicola Lopez, MPD. What the hell’s going on?”

“You need to call Doug Jarvis at the DIA and tell him that—”

“I spoke to him an hour ago, he’s the one that got me into this,” Lopez said briskly. “You came here from Israel?”

“Direct,” Ethan confirmed. “Who’s this?” he asked, gesturing to Powell.

“Your worst nightmare,” Powell snarled, struggling to his feet. “You’ve no jurisdiction and have entered the country illegally. I’ll have the both of you in a cell within—”

Lopez stepped forward and swung a roundhouse punch that connected to Powell’s jaw with a crack that seemed to echo through the aircraft. Powell’s two-hundred-pound frame spun 180 degrees and plunged facefirst onto one of the couches.

Ethan Warner looked at her in surprise as he lowered the pistol.

“Bad day at the office?”

“You have no idea,” Lopez said bitterly, massaging her knuckles. “Now, I need you to tell me everything that’s happened in Israel.”





Your fiancée?”

Nicola Lopez seemed genuinely appalled at Ethan’s loss.

“No worse than you losing your partner,” Ethan replied. “At least my fiancée may still be alive. If I’d put everything together out there sooner, none of this would have happened.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Aaron Luckov said from beside Safiya. “We all did what we could.”

Lopez shook her head, swiping a strand of black hair from her face.

“Wouldn’t have changed much anyway, not with this a*shole protecting everything that MACE has been doing,” she said, pointing to where Powell now sat gagged and bound against the couch. “Those remains, they’re the ones that Patterson’s been after?”

Ethan glanced briefly at the crate lashed to the rear bulkhead.

“He’s been after the DNA in the bones, some crackpot campaign to bring angels back to life. He either has no idea or doesn’t want to entertain the fact that the remains aren’t of an angel, they’re of some kind of alien humanoid.”

Lopez stared at him blankly.

“Alien? You’re shitting me.”

“Afraid not,” Ethan said. “Look in the box if you don’t believe me.”

“Then what’s with all the experiments, the dead drug addicts over here?”

“This guy Patterson is the brains behind everything,” Ethan explained. “They wanted to conduct blood transfusions using the bone marrow of the supposed angels to genetically alter the human population, something to do with fulfilling a biblical covenant between man and God. Sheviz was taking it one step further and trying to impregnate women with Nephilim eggs created from embryonic stem cells extracted from the remains.”

Lopez winced.

“Gruesome. He get anywhere?”

“No,” Ethan said.

“You want Patterson,” Lopez guessed.

Ethan nodded once, and she shook her head.

“Powell’s a worthless piece of shit, but he’s right, you’re in the country illegally, and if the FBI finds you, it’s game over. There’s enough evidence here to convict Patterson without you running around playing the Lone Ranger.”

“He’s not done yet,” Ethan insisted. “Whatever he’s planned, it’s likely to go down soon. He’ll know by now that MACE is dead in the water and that his precious DNA is beyond his grasp. Whatever he’s got left, he’ll know that he’s got to use it now before it’s too late.”

“The Bureau won’t let you out of this aircraft, let alone loose in the city.”

“Then you can help me get to him,” Ethan said.

“The hell d’you think I am, the mayor?”

Ethan looked at her strangely as a thought occurred to him.

“No, as it happens. And where’s your backup? Where’s the FBI?”

Lopez sighed.

“It’s a long story, but we’re both screwed. The FBI’s been trying to shut this investigation down since yesterday. Boarding this jet was illegal and is likely to cost me my badge.”

Ethan nodded.

“Then you’ve got no more to lose than me. We can be utterly worthless together.”

Lopez chuckled bitterly. “No use getting cute with me.”

Ethan leveled her with what he hoped was an honest look.

“If we’re going to lose what little we’ve got left, why not bring that sanctimonious bastard Patterson down with us and make it worthwhile?”

Lopez glanced at Powell lying nearby, and an image of Lucas Tyrell drifted in front of her mind’s eye.

“Come with me.”


The sudden screech of car tires and a blizzard of flashing lights reflected off the Gulftsream’s fuselage as the sound of a loudspeaker blasted Special Agent Axel Cain’s ears almost clean off.

“Police, nobody move!”

Cain sprinted from his vehicle and followed four heavily armed FBI agents as they plunged into the fuselage of the Gulfstream, weapons sweeping the interior and finding Powell.

Cain strode to Powell’s side, squatting down and tearing the gag from his face.

“About time,” Powell spat.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Cain asked, looking at the crate nearby, the bearded man, and the Palestinian woman standing near the cockpit of the jet with their hands in the air.

“Detective Lopez has gone off the range,” Powell said. “We need to arrest her and the man she’s with, some guy called Ethan Warner. He’s here illegally from Israel and could be a suspect in one of our investigations.”

“Where the hell are they?”

“They took off, not more than ten minutes ago,” Powell said. “Most likely they’ll head for the District, probably the New Covenant Church.”

Cain looked at the crate again. “What’s in that?”

“I’ve no idea,” Powell snapped. “Cut me loose.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said the bearded, barrel-chested man near the cockpit.

“Who the hell are you?” Cain muttered.

“My name’s Aaron Luckov, and there’s something on that crate you should see.”

Cain ignored him and reached for a Swiss army knife he carried. He was about to cut Powell’s bonds when one of the FBI agents called over.

“Sir, this guy’s right. I think you should see this right now.”

Cain got up, and the agent gestured to a piece of paper that had been hastily scribbled upon and tacked to the big crate.

Powell killed Tyrell. Treat the blood on his sleeves as evidence of homicide and use ballistics to match it to the crime scene in Anacostia. Doug Jarvis at the DIA will confirm the origin of the remains in the crate in the aircraft, as will the commander-in-chief of the Israeli Defense Force, General Benjamin Aydan. Hurry, there isn’t much time.



NL




Cain moved back to Powell and looked at the captain’s sleeves. The whites of his cuffs were speckled with dark bloodstains, and a thin rim of black spots lined the edges of the fabric. Cain slowly put his knife away before producing a set of steel handcuffs.

“What the hell are you doing?” Powell stammered.

Cain smiled coldly. “Hedging my bets.”

Cain cuffed Powell, and then looked at the FBI agents standing around him.

“Send everything we’ve got to the New Covenant Church in DC. I want Detective Nicola Lopez in custody within the hour, understood?”





NEW COVENANT CHURCH

WASHINGTON DC


The church glowed in the light from powerful lamps set into the lawns that cast their beams across the facade as Lopez drove Ethan into the parking lot.

“It’s huge,” Ethan said as they pulled up and Lopez killed the engine.

“Biggest in the District,” Lopez agreed, climbing out. “Patterson’s property portfolio is worth millions of dollars alone.”

Ethan fought down a surge of fury at the opulence of the church as he envisioned Joanna, a genuine messenger of truth, either dead or abducted and held beneath ground in a hot, dusty chamber in some obscure derelict building in Gaza City.

“Looks like there’s a few people inside,” he said.

“Which bothers me,” Lopez said. “Patterson was endorsing Senator Black’s presidential campaign. Thought he’d be at the rally by now.”

Ethan peered into the foyer and saw a pair of heavily built men in suits standing with their hands clasped before them, talking to another smaller man.

“That’s him,” Lopez said urgently, pointing at the small man, who turned and walked out of sight down a corridor away from the foyer.

“You ever heard of a church needing door security?” Ethan asked.

“No,” Lopez said. “Maybe we should find another way in. Patterson may know we’re coming.”

“They’ll have locked every other entrance if they’re expecting visitors,” Ethan said, the fury still coursing through his veins. “You look to see where Patterson’s gone. Leave the guards to me.”

Lopez threw Ethan a mock salute as she followed him.

Ethan made his way to the two huge glass double doors and eased his way inside. One of the two guards lumbered over to intercept him in the foyer.

“Have I come at a bad time?” Ethan muttered.

“The church is closed,” the guard said, reaching out and grabbing Ethan’s arm.

As the guard yanked him back toward the doors, Ethan turned and pushed him off balance before slamming the palm of his right hand under the guard’s jaw. The heavily built man staggered backward and crashed down across a table that snapped in half beneath his weight with a crackle of splintered wood.

Ethan turned as the second security guard rushed him and a meaty shoulder ploughed into his belly. Ethan felt himself hurled onto his back on the thick carpet, the security guard pinning him down before reaching out to grab his wrists. Ethan waited until the guard got hold of them and pushed them toward the ground, before he arched his back and butted his head forward. His skull impacted the guard’s nose, shattering the nasal bridge with a crunch. Ethan thumped his knee into the man’s groin, and the guard rolled off him with a strangled groan.

Ethan leaped to his feet to see the other guard draw a pistol and aim it at him.

“Stay where you are, hands on your head.”

Ethan obeyed as the guard edged closer, the gun never wavering from Ethan’s face.

“On your knees.”

“Go to hell.”

The second guard staggered to his feet before slamming a fist deep into Ethan’s flank. Ethan gasped as pain erupted across his side and he sank to his knees. The guard was about to speak when Lopez pushed through the glass doors with her pistol in one hand and her badge in the other.

“Metro PD, drop your weapon now!”

The guards turned in surprise and Ethan jerked upright and backward onto his feet, slamming into the man behind him. The guard staggered backward into the wall as Ethan turned and grabbed his pistol wrist before the guard could bring his weapon to bear. Ethan yanked the arm toward him, turning and throwing the man over his shoulder before twisting his wrist away from the direction of the fall and stomping down on his armpit.

The tendons in the guard’s shoulder rippled as they parted under the sudden unbearable pressure, a gargled scream issuing from his mouth as the pistol was ripped from his grasp. Ethan lifted his boot and delivered a sharp blow to the guard’s temple, abruptly cutting the scream off.

Lopez looked at the remaining guard, who had turned to point his gun at Ethan.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said. “Drop it.”

The guard obeyed, and Ethan strode across to him and smashed the butt of his pistol across his temple, the man collapsing instantly onto his side.

Lopez picked up the guard’s pistol. “Didn’t fancy talking it over with them then.”

“Where’d Patterson go?” Ethan asked.

“Leave the guards to me,” Lopez echoed. “You think you’re Russell Crowe or something?”

“Patterson,” Ethan said sternly. Lopez watched him silently for a moment. “I’m not going to kill him,” Ethan promised.

“Sure,” Lopez murmured.

“Unless he tries to kill us.”

Lopez said nothing, leading him in the direction Patterson had vanished. Ethan followed her down a long corridor until they reached a large door at the end bearing Patterson’s name.

Lopez tried the door handle.

“Locked.”

Ethan stood back. This would be the moment to heroically kick the door down, but in truth doors couldn’t be opened easily in that way.

“If we use guns and he’s here, he’ll hear us,” Lopez said.

Ethan looked around and saw a seat with velvet cushions back down the corridor. He strolled across and picked the cushions up before returning to the door. Lopez understood immediately, aiming at the door as Ethan pressed the cushions against the lock. Lopez buried the muzzle of her pistol into the cushions and fired three times.

Ethan heard the metallic crunch as the door lock was mangled under the blasts amid splintering wood. Lopez pulled back as Ethan dropped the cushions and pushed on the door handle. The heavy door opened partially, enough for Ethan to see the shattered locking mechanism.

Ethan leaned out, and then barged his shoulder into the door.

The door flew open, Lopez rushing past him into the office with her pistol held before her. Ethan looked at the broad windows and the huge chrome crucifix on the wall.

“He’s not here.”

“You didn’t tell me you were a genius,” Lopez muttered, looking around her. “He’s got to be around somewhere.”

“You sure he came in here?”

“I look like a moron?”

“No, but he could have sneaked off somewhere else.”

“He didn’t,” Lopez said. “He came in here, I saw him, and there’s no other exit from the corridor.”

A flash of light caught Ethan’s eyes as it traveled across the wall in front of him, and he turned to look back out into the corridor. Through a window on the opposite wall, he saw pulsing strobes and car headlights flash past as they entered the parking lot outside.

“Wherever he is, we’d better find him fast,” Lopez said. “The FBI’s here.”





Ethan looked around the huge office in desperation as Lopez grabbed one of the chairs from Patterson’s desk, using it to wedge the office door closed.

“You said that Patterson had this place built to his own specifications,” Ethan said.

“Yeah, about fifteen years ago.”

“So he wouldn’t have used his charitable institutions like the hospitals for his experiments for fear of whistleblowers among his employees.”

Lopez glanced over her shoulder at him as she pushed the chair into place.

“You think he’s got a secret chamber here or something?”

“Either that or he just spontaneously combusted into thin air. Maybe God really is looking out for him.”

Lopez snorted as she began experimentally tapping the walls of the office with the butt of her pistol.

“The only reason God would be looking out for a slimeball like Patterson is to send him to roast in hell.”

Ethan walked to the middle of the office and slowly turned 360 degrees, observing his surroundings and stopping as he looked directly at the vast crucifix dominating the wall above the altar.

He strode across to it, looking closely at the chromed surface.

The crucifix was made of three tightly fitting pieces: the central vertical pillar, the upper tip, and the horizontal crossbeam. The vertical pillar was just over six feet tall and a foot wide, and as Ethan looked at the surface he could just make out a translucency to the metal. He looked down at the carpet beneath his feet and saw a mild thinning of the fibers, as though someone had walked or stood on the same spot many times.

“Here,” he motioned for Lopez to join him.

Lopez examined the surface of the crucifix for a moment, then the carpet.

“He went through here somehow. There must be a release mechanism,” she said.

“It’s got to be something mechanical,” Ethan agreed, turning.

His eye caught instantly on the large bronze eagle on Patterson’s desk, beside a small monitor. Lopez followed his gaze even as they both heard muffled voices approaching down the corridor outside. Ethan grabbed the eagle’s head and twisted it sideways.

Silently, the vertical pillar of the crucifix revolved into the wall, revealing a narrow passage that opened into a wider descending tunnel beyond. Lopez slipped through the opening, Ethan following a moment later before the crucifix silently closed behind him. He realized that he could faintly see through the crucifix back into the office, the chrome surface some sort of two-way mirror that Patterson must have used to enter and exit the office unobserved. Figures burst into the office, torch beams sweeping this way and that.

“The FBI’s here,” he whispered. “It won’t take them long to figure out where we’ve gone.”

“We won’t need much time,” Lopez said.

The passage opened out ahead, Ethan guessing it to be about twelve meters long and descending two meters in total, enough to put it below the auditorium of the megachurch. As they descended, Ethan could make out a door with a heavy handle, and before it a gap of some six inches. Lopez stopped in front of the door, and as Ethan came alongside her he could see that the gap extended to either side of them, above and below, the door the entrance to a large boxlike structure suspended in midair within an underground chamber.

“An anechoic chamber,” Lopez said loudly. “Don’t worry, they can’t hear us and we can’t hear them until we open this door.”

Ethan shook his head in wonder, having heard only rumors about such chambers. An anechoic chamber was a form of room that was isolated from exterior sound or electromagnetic radiation sources, preventing the reflection of wave phenomena. The chamber was supported slightly above the actual floor using tensile springs, and surrounded on all sides by soundproofing layers of anechoic tiles, a concrete shield and a full six inches of near vacuum-pressure air.

“Shall we?” Ethan suggested, grabbing the door handle.

Nicola raised her pistol, and on a count of three Ethan yanked the door open and they burst into the chamber together to hear the voice of a man shouting.

“You’re insane!”

The voice sounded dead, monotone, its vocal resonance lost within the room as though Ethan were listening to it underwater. He blinked in surprise as he saw that the steel-walled room was an operating theater, replete with a heart-bypass machine, refrigerator banks, computer monitors, and a single, large light suspended over a gurney in the center of the theater. Upon the gurney, lying restrained on his back, was Senator Isaiah Black. The senator stared in terror at Ethan and Lopez.

“Get this bastard off me!”

Pastor Kelvin Patterson stood on one side of the theater. In one hand he held a syringe filled with a deep-scarlet fluid, the other hand on the door of a refrigerator filled with mysterious-looking vials. Before Ethan or Lopez could speak, Patterson lurched sideways, reaching out for the senator with the syringe.

“Freeze!” Lopez shouted, aiming at the pastor. “Don’t you dare move!”

Patterson hesitated, the needle twelve inches from the senator’s neck.

Senator Black’s face was contorted with a volatile mixture of outrage and fear.

“What the hell is in that?” he shouted, staring fanatically at the syringe.

Ethan spoke quietly, his gaze leveled at Patterson and radiating hatred.

“It’s the blood of an unknown alien species.”

Senator Black’s skin paled visibly, but Patterson snarled back at Ethan.

“This is the blood of an angel, a Nephilim.” He looked down at the senator. “Fear not, Isaiah, for you are about to be invigorated. Imagine, the blood of angels running through your veins. You will become invincible.”

Senator Black balked, his skin sheened with sweat.

“I don’t want to be invincible!”

Ethan spoke up as he took a pace closer to Patterson.

“If you’re so sure it’s the blood of angels, then why not invigorate yourself and save Senator Black the trouble.”

A cruel smile twisted Patterson’s features.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Senator Black gritted his teeth.

“Don’t do it,” he said to Patterson. “It’s not worth it.”

Lopez gestured with her pistol to the syringe in Patterson’s hand.

“You put that shit in him he’ll be dead within minutes. You might as well jack him full of diesel.”

Patterson’s gruesome smile crumbled into a look of pure disgust.

“How little faith you have,” he spat. “This is the first chance in history for man to reach out and touch the hand of God, and you filthy liberalist secularists would snatch it away from humanity. You would deny even the blood of God in your fear of the truth. Do you even know what ‘covenant’ means? It is a bond in blood, sovereignly administered by God.”

Ethan glanced around the theater at the transfusion lines and oxygen bottles, searching for a way to hinder the pastor for just long enough to get hold of him. Patterson was standing only ten feet away, but he was closer to the senator than Ethan was.

“Go ahead,” Patterson dared him, as though reading his thoughts. “One step and I’ll put this through his heart and finish him for good.”

“The FBI is here,” Lopez said. “It’s only a matter of time before they find this chamber.”

“Yes, it is,” Patterson agreed, “by which time this will all be over.”

“You’ll kill him,” Lopez said, her pistol fixed on the pastor. “What the hell makes you think you’ll achieve anything else?”

“This is the purest human blood in existence,” Patterson said, his eyes ablaze with the furor of the righteous, “an unbroken line that goes back to Adam’s presence in the Garden of Eden, six thousand years ago. The rest of our blood has long since been contaminated, soiled by the filth and depravity of mankind’s soulless existence, but our true bloodline came from the Levant, from Israel, from the time of the patriarchs. This blood will bring God’s children back to this Earth and with them the dawning of a new age.”

“No, it won’t,” Lopez uttered. “You’re nothing more than a murderer.”

“I am the savior!” Patterson cried out. “We have waited two thousand years for this moment, but why should we have waited at all? If we cannot find God here on Earth, then I shall bring God to us!”

Ethan glanced at Lopez before he spoke to Patterson, putting his gun on the floor and moving toward him.

“You think that by doing this you’ll find some kind of illumination. I think that you’ll plunge us all into darkness.”

“You’re already in darkness,” Patterson sneered.

Ethan judged the distance. Six feet, maybe seven.

“Are we? You know, it’s always bugged me how people like you claim to be the light, the truth, the saviors of mankind, yet you threaten to kill anyone who doesn’t believe the same things. To me, you’re the one who’s in darkness.”

Patterson edged closer to the senator as Ethan took another pace. Five feet.

“When God’s will comes to pass you and all other heathen will see the light, but it will be forever beyond your reach.”

Ethan nodded.

“Then let’s bring God’s will to pass, right now.”

In that instant Lopez fired her pistol at the light above the gurney, the shot deafeningly loud in the confines of the theater, and the entire chamber was plunged into darkness as Ethan hurled himself at the pastor.





Ethan rushed forward, intercepting Kelvin Patterson as he lunged for the gurney and smashing him aside with his body weight. He heard a crash as Patterson spun away into the refrigerator door, and faintly saw the syringe needle glinting in the light.

Behind him, he heard rather than saw Lopez scramble across to the gurney and begin unstrapping the senator.

Patterson screamed in outrage and rushed toward Ethan, who swung a wild left hook that connected with the pastor’s cheek. Ethan heard Patterson slam sideways into a bank of steel cupboards at the back of the chamber and he plunged into him, desperately searching for the syringe that Patterson still held.

“Get the senator out of here!” Ethan shouted at Lopez.

Ethan leaned away desperately as Patterson tried to sink his teeth into Ethan’s neck. The world tilted crazily in the darkness as Ethan toppled over backward and smashed onto his back on the unforgiving tiles. In the scarce light from the open doorway to the chamber he saw the syringe plunge down toward him.

Ethan grabbed the pastor’s wrists and stopped the tip of the needle two inches from his own chest as Patterson tumbled down on top of him, teeth gritted with effort as he pushed his entire body weight down on the syringe.

Ethan gasped beneath the pastor’s furious attack, sucking in air as he struggled to hold Patterson’s body inches above his own, the pastor grimacing and starting to laugh maniacally as he drove the syringe another inch toward Ethan’s chest.

Ethan felt the tip of the needle pierce his shirt and skin, a tiny prick of pain. He felt his muscles bursting with effort, his eyes bulging as he heard his own labored pulse rushing through his ears. Spots sparkled before his eyes as he felt the last of his strength deserting him.

He heard the pastor’s voice above the rushing in his ears.

“Prepare to meet thy Maker.”

Patterson shoved his body higher up on Ethan’s, bringing his full weight to bear on the syringe. Ethan sucked in a lungful of air and twisted the pastor’s wrists downward, turning the needle away from his own chest.

Patterson grunted as he fought this new and unexpected counterattack. Ethan let the pastor’s body weight help him, placing all of the strain on Patterson’s wrists. The pastor gagged as he struggled to control his balance.

The syringe turned between them, facing down toward their feet, and Ethan changed his grip on the pastor’s hands, ready to push the syringe upward. Patterson panicked, scrambling up and away from the needle. Ethan hooked one leg over the pastor’s and kicked it out from beneath him, twisting him by his hands and wrists as his body flipped sideways and over onto his back. Ethan scrambled on top of Patterson, the needle now pointing down at the pastor’s chest.

In the faint light, he saw Patterson’s eyes swimming with panic.

“Joanna Defoe,” Ethan hissed, glowering down at the pastor.

A tremor of recognition flickered across Patterson’s features.

“Let me go,” he gasped, “or I’ll tell you nothing.”

“I know she’s alive.” Ethan grinned coldly. “I know MACE took her.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” the pastor croaked, straining to hold the syringe away from his skin. “I don’t know what happened to her, I swear.”

“Then what use are you?” Ethan growled.

“No, please, don’t—”

Ethan slammed his entire body weight down on the syringe. Patterson screamed as the needle plunged deep into his chest and the fluid flooded into his body.

Ethan hauled himself off the pastor, yanking the syringe free and tossing it to one side. Behind him, he heard a clatter of footsteps as flashlight beams sliced into the darkness and a handful of FBI agents burst into the chamber, Axel Cain at their head.

“Hands up, don’t move!”

Ethan complied, not resisting the FBI agents as they cuffed him. He saw Lopez being cuffed alongside him.

“Illuminated?” she said. “Darkness? You’re a riot, Warner, you really are.”

“You got it, didn’t you?”

He watched as they lifted Patterson to his feet, the pastor holding his chest where the needle had pierced him. Slowly he straightened, and began to chuckle as he looked at Ethan. For a terrible instant, Ethan wondered if the insane old man had been right as he stood four-square and looked Ethan in the eye.

“The Word has been spoken, and this is God’s judgment upon us all for …”

Patterson’s voice trailed off, and the fevered delight vanished as his face folded in upon itself in agony. Ethan took a step back as, bowing over at the waist, Patterson looked up and wailed a scream that sounded as though his innards were being doused in flames.

Patterson lurched to one side, the FBI agents leaping out of his way as the pastor slammed into the side of the gurney and sprawled onto his back, his eyes bulging and his mouth wide open as a foamy mess of bloodied mucus bubbled out to spill onto the tiles beneath him. Ethan winced as the pastor gargled and thrashed, dark blood spilling from his cavities as his internal organs turned to mush inside him.

Patterson gave a last anguished cry of despair, his limbs contorting at impossible angles as his spine arched over to the sound of cracking bones, his head twisted back to almost touch the back of his legs before he froze in position, his eyes staring wide and empty toward the exit of the chamber.

Ethan stared at his body for a moment, and then looked at the FBI agents.

“You might want to seal this room off. It could be contaminated.”

“You think?” Axel Cain shot him a look of mock surprise. “Get out of here.”

Ethan gave the dead pastor one last glance, and then let himself be led out of the chamber and into the light once more.