“You’re saying The Light’s security was good.”
“I’m saying it was excellent. Only recently did we penetrate it enough to see the broadcasts of the meetings and sermons. By doing that we could pinpoint Gabriel’s location. We could tell if he was at Bloomfield Hills, which is where the majority of the broadcasts originated, the Western Light, or the Northern Light. We thought that most of the activity was intercampus, until we discovered this.” He hit a button and suddenly the United States and Canada lit up like a virtual Christmas tree. He zoomed out and lights lit all over the world.
“What is that?”
“Hits on the latest broadcast.”
“How?” I asked. “If the communication was solely between campuses?”
“Agent, welcome to the Shadows. There’s a highly encrypted website on the dark web that allows followers outside of the campuses to obtain access to the broadcasts. The last broadcast was short, sent fifteen minutes before the FBI touched down at the Northern Light, moments before the explosion in Bloomfield Heights.”
I couldn’t think about the explosion and concentrate. I had to be Agent Jacoby for a little while. “Do you have the broadcast? Did you see it?”
I gripped the table in front of me as Father Gabriel’s face covered the large screen and his voice filled the room. How many times had I watched his broadcasts? He looked exactly as he did when he delivered a sermon, not a hair out of place.
“Children of The Light, a very unfortunate chain of events has occurred. You will hear things and see images. Remember, my children, the dark is everywhere. While The Light may be temporarily dimmed, we know it cannot be extinguished. You, my children of the Shadows, must stay vigilant and keep the vision alive. You’ve been given enlightenment to discern the truths. Those who wish us harm are our enemies. You are the soldiers in this war. Though I may be unavailable for a time, know that time is irrelevant to our cause and mission. My power will be held by the one who would inherit the legacy, until it is mine again. I entrust it thereupon, but never give up, never accept the lies told in the dark. Know that The Light will forever shine.”
My knuckles blanched and the blood drained from my cheeks as the screen went black. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Special Agent Adler had entered the room during the broadcast. “Jacoby,” he said, “there are a few bunks here. I suggest you get some sleep. We have a lot to discuss.”
I spun toward him. “It’s not gone? Three years, lives, Sara . . . all for nothing!”
“No,” he replied calmly. “It wasn’t all for nothing. The campuses were the main source of The Light’s revenue. They were a hotbed of illegal activities hiding behind the separation of church and state. You brought that down. You did it! Over a thousand people freed. That wasn’t for nothing.”
“But”—I pointed toward the now-blank screen—“that earlier graphic, there are ten or fifty times as many Shadows.” I used the new term. “Not everyone you’re taking into custody was brought to The Light unwillingly. Their campus is gone, but with the right connections they’ll be able to rejoin the force. What will stop them?”
Agent Adler shook his head. “The mission was successful. You do realize how unusual it is to be able to infiltrate three separate locations with the exercised precision and such a low number of casualties.”
“Sara,” I whispered.
“Going back last Friday made the difference in our success. We didn’t have the manpower ready.”
I nodded. “Have you issued the APB for Dylan Richards?”
“Not yet. The charred remains of his car were found on the grounds in Bloomfield Hills. Right now we’re assuming he was in the mansion when it blew.”
My knees gave way as I collapsed in a nearby chair. “No. No.” My volume increased. “I don’t care if it was five minutes or one, there was a plan to save Richards and I know it. Besides, did you hear what Gabriel said? He said something about his power going to someone who would inherit.”
Brady nodded. “We’ve been searching, but we’re coming up blank. He must mean it as a transfer of power. Gabriel Clark or Garrison Clarkson never had children.”
“Not a child, Richards is Clark’s nephew. He’s alive; I know it. Even that asshole wouldn’t allow his nephew to be blown up. I saw the two of them interact just the other day—fuck, I don’t even know what day it is.”
“Tuesday,” Brady offered.
“Yesterday. There’s no way Clark allowed that.”
Agent Adler shook his head. “I don’t see how—”
“Did you have constant aerial surveillance?” I asked.
Brady tapped his keyboard again; however, before he hit the key to play the time-lapsed video, he asked, “Are you sure you want to see this?”