Chapter 4: This calls for a mind that has wisdom
Elizabeth was aware of muffled voices first. She wasn't sure if the problem was with her hearing or the distance of the conversation. The question didn't matter as pain quickly replaced the muffled voices with an incessant buzzing. It was hard for her to determine where the pain originated and finally decided there were multiple points of originated all culminating in a white-hot buzz she could feel, see, hear, and taste. As she shifted the buzz exploded into white-hot, liquid pain. It slid from her left elbow, up to her shoulder and neck and then back down to her elbow. Sweat broke out on her brow and she bit her lip until she tasted blood.
"Shh, it's ok," a soothing voice said, startling Elizabeth from her private hell. A cool cloth brushed over her face and with great force of will, she opened her eyes.
"Please, can you release my hands. My arm…" she trailed off. She didn't really know what was wrong with it, she only knew there was something really wrong. The strain placed on it from the lack of mobility was becoming hard to ignore.
"I will ask Elder Peters," Martha told her. "We need to sit you up so you can drink some water."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "No moving."
A soft chuckle escaped the other woman's lips. "Let me see if I can get the key to the lock, that will let me stabilize your arm. You need water," she said standing and leaving the room.
Taking a moment, Elizabeth tried to listen again. Frustrated and feeling like she knew less than when the nightmare started, she was forced to wait for Martha to return. She was qualified to negotiate in a myriad of situations but in that moment, found herself at a complete loss. The key to successful negotiations was to understand what all parties ultimately wanted. She certainly knew what she wanted, clean clothes, hospital-grade painkillers, and her family. What Justin wanted was a mystery… "Come out, the mystery is over," she said trying to remember the information in the FBI report and Henry's account.
Quietly, Martha reentered and gently closed the door. Kneeling next to the secretary, she produced a key and gently unlocked the padlock joining either shackle. "Which arm?" she asked before making any moves.
"My left, I think it's my elbow, maybe my shoulder," she said and trusted the woman to reposition her arm.
"Try not to tense up, and remember to breathe," she instructed, slowly moving Elizabeth to a sitting position. The cries of pain were the only sound. "Do you want to stand and walk to the chair or stay here?" she asked, leaving a steadying hand on her good arm, reaching for a bottle of water with the other.
Hating how vulnerable she felt sitting on the floor, Bess looked skeptically at the chair. "Chair," she finally hissed out through clenched teeth. If she thought sitting up was painful, the process of standing was excruciating, but the end result felt like an achievement. Letting her arms sit limply on her lap she let Martha helped her sip water. "What does he want from me?" she asked between drinks.
Martha's brow creased as she considered the question. "There is what Elder Peters wants and what Elder Fellows wants," she began. "They do not agree and I don't know who is right."
"Who is in charge?" Elizabeth asked and watched as Martha gave a side long glance at the door.
Leaning in, she lowered her voice. "For now, Elder Peters. We are loyal to Reverend Morning Star and we think Justin is carrying out his wishes. But some are growing restless. They want you…"
"…they want me dead," she supplied, she had gathered that from the endless recitation of scripture she listened to while they 'cleansed her from her iniquity' through the leather strap. "And you?"
"I do not know what to think. Elder Fellows says there is a lot of evidence that you are in control of the beast. Even if that is true, I don't think we can stop the prophecy from coming true. It is in the book, I believe we should let the world run its course and we should prepare to help as many people as we can before the Lord returns," she said. "I don't see were we've been instructed to take a life. Any life."
Bess took a shallow breath, careful not to disturb her arm. As the pain settled, she began to feel her other injuries again. Her ribs were sore, maybe cracked. Her back stung as several welts were pushed against the hardness of the chair. Before she could respond to Martha's assessment, the door open again. Justin stood, open bible in one hand and another chair in the other. Silently, Martha backed out of the room while Peters positioned the chair opposite of his captive. Elizabeth waited.
"Tell me, do you believe in God?" he began.
Trend lightly, she told herself. This was one negotiation where the less words she used the better off she would be. "Yes," she said, but laced with pain she didn't recognize her own voice.
"Do you need more water?" he asked kindly.
"If I can chase it with some Tylenol," she said with a small smile.
"Sorry, this house was never stocked with supplies. We could only invest in the basics when we had to move. Thanks to your husband," he said, but there was no trace of bitterness in his voice.
"I read the report and I talked to Henry. I can guarantee you he feels guilty about disrupting your worship," she started.
Justin waved his hand in dismissal. "My father had lost his way, he should have never challenged the search warrant. We have a greater purpose."
"To stop the beast or to save people from the beast?" she asked.
"You ask an interesting question. It's one I've been wrestling with. Tell me, if you were presented with a situation where things had been set in motion to hurt thousands and you had a guaranteed way to save hundreds or a slim chance to save thousands…how do you choose?" he leaned in, genuinely interested in her expert opinion as the country's chief diplomat.
Without blinking, she confidently answered, "You find someone else with a different perspective to see if you can find a guaranteed way to save thousands."
"I'm here then, looking for your perspective. Tell me, how to I stop the beast when its written in here that he is inevitable," he asked raising up his open bible.
This was the moment that could decide her fate. She had to set aside her skepticism that the book he held contained the spoken word of God. She had to consider Justin a diplomatic problem with a different moral code than herself. She had to meet him where he was at. "What if the beast doesn't show up for another thousand years? When Revelation was written, do you think the church thought the prophecy was written for them?"
He considered her comments but didn't speak.
Emboldened, she continued. "Do you think the Jewish people during the holocaust thought Hitler was the beast? Evil exists, we can't stop that, and sometimes it takes a form we recognize. It's up to us to do as much good as we can despite the evil in the world," she told him and then remembered a quote Henry had used many times, "Good can exist without evil, whereas evil cannot exist without good."
"Justin!" Caleb flew through the door interrupting Justin and Elizabeth's conversation. The suddenness caused her to jump, then tense, and then squeeze her eyes to the pain. "The FBI are getting close. We have to move."
~~/~~
Henry sat in the back of the SUV with Jane. The motorcade was ready, engines running, but idle in the prison parking lot. His partner was on phone with Jose getting an update. For his part, he wasn't really listening. He had been holding himself together for the kids, for himself. If he lost it, he would be no help to Murphy Station. He would fail his wife. And yet, despite his herculean efforts to stamped down his fear, he felt like he was still failing his wife. Peters was no help, he provided no information they could use to find Justin or Elizabeth. He looked at his watch. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. His promise to his kids to bring their mother home was looking like a long shot. Of all the risks she faced, he should have been uniquely qualified to resolve the situation.
"I'll tell him," Jane said, wrapping up her call. "We're on our way." Ending the call, she leaned forward to speak to Eden, who sat behind the wheel. "We need to go to the situation room. There's been a development."
Sitting back, she looked at Henry's anxious eyes. "They have a lead on a possible location."
"Why aren't we going there?" he asked. He refused to be sidelined. Especially if a negotiator was needed. "Where are they?"
"Henry, you can't be there, you need to stay out of the FBI's way," she tried to reason with him. The fear, pain and determination in his eyes told her she was fighting a losing battle. "Remember that custom made door? They tracked down the company that installed it and learned of another location the same customer installed a similar door. They're running some surveillance on a house in Forest Glen."
"If there's a hostage situation, they'll need me there. Justin will talk to me," he said, willing her to see his logic.
"Fine, we'll go to the field HQ and check in there. It's the FBI's show, you'll have to convince them not to kick you out," she said and gave Eden the address. She looked at Henry's bouncing knee and shaking hand. They had a complicated professional relationship, but she had grown to consider him a friend. Gently, she laid her hand on top of his to settle his nervous energy. "We're going to get her back."
He nodded and looked out the window. "In what condition?" he asked the impossible question as the motorcade wound its way through the changing streets. The industrial buildings gave way to shopping centers. Families were going about their business as he considered the irony. His wife was a target to any number of groups, but it was a religious group he was responsible for crippling that got her. It was a wardrobe choice before a press conference that got their attention and an incomplete chore that gave the group the opportunity. The series of events seemed like a perfect storm no one could have prepared for.
"Stop," Jane commanded getting his attention. "Stop blaming yourself."
He moved his hand out from under hers and rested it on top, squeezing gently. "I don't know who else to blame. Her stylist?" he asked as they approached the checkpoint and were cleared through. Not interested in continuing the conversation, he left the SUV before it had come to a complete stop. Entering the field headquarters, it was clear they weren't very far behind. The personnel buzzed with activity, connecting monitors, establishing connections with surveillance teams. Catching Matt's attention, the pair found a quiet corner in the mobile pod.
"A surveillance drone has flown over the property. It was originally three lots that cover 5-acres and adjacent to undeveloped land. There are multiple structures on the property, we're not sure which house is occupied yet, but any escape route has been blocked" he explained.
~~/~~
Justin returned to the room. She had been left alone while he and Caleb left to develop a plan with the other members of the church. The young man covered the distance from the door to her chair in three long strides. He grabbed her right arm and hauled her to her feet, ignoring her protests. "We have to move," he said, leaving her standing while he grabbed a blindfold from his back pocket. It was a curious gesture and one she hadn't really considered. When she first regained consciousness she was blindfolded, but it had been removed by Justin. It didn't make sense in her mind. What didn't they want her to see that she hadn't already seen. Before she should be led from the room another person entered, breathing heavily.
"There are teams moving in, we're too late. We're not going to get out without a fight," she recognized Caleb's voice.
"Maybe we can negotiate," Justin said. "We have something they want. Secure her, I'm going to make a call."
The shuffling of feet and clatter of metal filled the room. When hands touched her again, they were rough. They pulled her wrists together, and she thought she was going to hyperventilate at the prospect of hanging again from the ceiling. "Please. Please don't. I can't," she pleaded as she was backed up two steps. The weight of the hook was added to the lock that had been re-secured, and before she could say or do anything, the hook was pulling her arms up above her head. Before they could take on the weight of her body, she blacked out from the agony.
~~/~~
Henry's phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out and glancing at the screen, he expected to see one of the kid's cell numbers. He mentally kicked himself for not checking it earlier. The unfamiliar number caused him to pause, but he assumed it was the land line of the safe house. "Hi, I so sorry I didn't call you guys," he started and silence greeted him. "Stevie?"
"Professor McCord," a young, male voice said.
Out of context, it took Henry far too long to place the voice. Finally, he looked up and made eye contact with Eden. "Justin? Are you okay? Is my wife ok?" he asked in rapid succession. A flurry of movement had traces running and a phone tap that had been established the previous day recording both sides of the conversation.
"I know your agents are closing in on us, I want my people to get out safely."
"I want everyone to get out safely, just come out of the house unarmed and this will all be over," Henry said, knowing he would never agree to the terms. Across the small room, the FBI deputy director, Mike Nelson was listening to the call from his command station and scribbled on a pad of paper, handing the sheet to Henry. Send out the women and children. "Let's start with the women and any children in the house. We'll get them all to safety."
Some muffled voices drifted through the phone. It sounded like arguing. There was someone else in the room that sounded like they were ready to stand their ground. Henry hoped Justin's cooler head would prevail. "We have eight women and twelve children. They're innocent and had nothing to do with Secretary McCord. I'll send them out."
Henry wanted desperately to ask if he was referring to the kidnapping of Elizabeth or if there was something else that had been done to her. "Good, that's good Justin."
"Then, I want you to come inside and talk to me." Justin's words caused Deputy Director Nelson to stand and shake his head.
"Send out your followers and we'll talk about it," he said sending an understanding look to Nelson. Silence greeted him and he pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the screen. "He hung up," Henry announced and looked at the video feed focused on the most prominent house.
"We've got movement at the front door," Eden said, drawing everyone else's attention to the small monitor. They all counted in their heads at the figures moved toward the awaiting SWAT team. Seconds stretched to minutes until all twenty were accounted for and moved out of the line of fire.
The door of the command unit opened and a young agent moved to Nelson, he whispered in his ear. She showed the deputy director a tablet, shielding it from the rest of the room. Henry divided his attention between the monitor to the exchange. "Henry," Mike said. "I need you to sit."
"I know what you're going to say, I'm the best person you have to negotiate the end of this standoff. I have a previous relationship with Justin—"
"Henry, sit," he said again, taking the tablet from his agent. "When the door opened, we got a micro drone inside. It's got a camera, and we have a live feed."
Jane, who had stayed on the sidelines since arriving, moved forward and repositioned a chair for her friend to sit. Henry went down fast. "Is she dead?" he asked, tears stinging his eyes.
Nelson shook his head, "No, she's still breathing, but this is going to be difficult."
A war waged inside Henry's head. It was Schrödinger's cat, if he didn't look at the screen she was safe and unharmed. He didn't want to shatter that illusion by looking. But he had to know, he had to see her. A shaking hand reached out, took the tablet, and he closed his eyes as he turned it toward himself. Jane's hand squeezed his shoulder as she got a look. Steeling himself one last time, he opened his eyes. His world crumbled. She was suspended from a hook attached to a pulley in the ceiling. Blindfolded, he couldn't tell if she was conscious, but he watched the rise and fall of her chest, reassuring himself she was still breathing. He continued to watch as she swung slightly, her bare feet a few inches from the ground. He didn't see visual injuries, but the video quality wasn't great and he knew there were many injuries that could be afflicted without an outward sign. Before he could say a word, his phone started vibrating again.
"You don't have to be the one to answer that," Jane said to him. "You should let a trained negotiator take over."
Still watching Elizabeth on the small screen, he nodded and handed the phone to Mike. It wasn't giving up as much as he still didn't think he could speak. The conversation happened around him for thirty minutes and he was only capable of sitting and watching his wife. Several times it seemed like she might be awake, but something was wrong. He knew her better than he knew herself, in his gut, he knew she was hurt and it was serious. He watched every twitch, her right hand would periodically clasp and release, trying to keep the blood flowing, but her left hadn't moved. He could see blood around two inch cuffs encircling her wrists, some ran down her arms, but it wasn't excessive. Agents moved around him, he started picking up some words, and tried to understand what was happening but didn't remove his eyes from the tablet.
"That's only nine. There's a man unaccounted for. According to one of the women who've been cooperating there are ten men, eleven counting Justin. We'll see if we can get a name," Eden said.
Henry looked up and then back down, movement from the left of the camera caught his eye. "He's in the room with her," he said. Lifting the tablet up, but not releasing it. Everyone turned toward a monitor that was broadcasting the same video. He hadn't realized they accessed the feed and a part of him wanted to turn off the monitor. He felt violated as the dozen people in the room had been watching his wife. They all crowded around, watching as the younger man pressed his thumb along the cellphone touch screen. "Let me go in," he said before Mike answered the call. "You can clear as much of the house you need to, but I need to go in there."
Nelson shook his head, "Not yet. We need to make sure the house is clear and everyone is accounted for. We also have to assess the weapons he may have access to. I'm not giving him another hostage, and I'm not putting you in a position to watch…" he didn't finish his sentence, but Henry knew the concern. Henry was somehow personally tied into the cult and they couldn't discount the idea that he was a focal point and Elizabeth could be a tool used against him. "We need to understand what he wants and confirm his reasons for taking the Secretary." He answered the call and accepted a slip of paper from Eden. "Justin, your people are safe. How about we get you and Elizabeth McCord out of there too?"
At the mention of her name, Henry and Jane both looked at the live feed. He matched his breathing to hers. In and out. The rhythmic motion comforted him. She moved her head and a grimace transformed her face. "She's hurt," he whispered to Jane. In and out.
"Is Caleb Fellows in the house with you?" Mike asked as he read the name Eden had given him and then listened.
Henry watched Justin look around, genuine surprise on his face. "He didn't know," he told Nelson who nodded understanding. Suddenly Justin wasn't their biggest problem.
"Ok, listen to me Justin. What weapons do you have in the house? I need to send some men in to make sure Caleb is ok and gets to safety," Nelson said, hoping it came across as a non-issue.
~~/~~
"I don't know what weapons we have. I didn't access the room, it hasn't been unlocked. I'm not like my father," Justin said. Elizabeth could sense him pacing. It had taken her several minutes to comprehend the situation, only hearing one side of the conversation and the haze of pain had made it difficult, but she understood they were in the middle of a hostage situation now. All the rules had changed. She also knew that Henry was definitely close. This knowledge made her simultaneously relieved and terrified.
"You would be a better man if you were more like your father," Caleb said as he came in. The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking echoed off the walls.
Baring down to face the pain, Elizabeth worked the blindfold, using the friction of her right arm, she moved it up high enough to see, but hoped not too high that either man would notice. As she took in the situation, no one was paying attention to her. Caleb had a handgun in his hand and a rifle slung across his chest. Neither one was pointed at anyone, yet.
"Caleb, what are you doing? I told you to get to safety with everyone else. This needs to end," he said lowering the phone.
"I agree this needs to end, but I'm sure I disagree with how this needs to end," he said and looked down at the phone in Justin's hand. "Who is on the phone?" Not waiting for an answer, he took the device and started talking. "Henry McCord?"
Hearing his name made Elizabeth's gut clench. Caleb was clearly militant and she doubted he would listen to any logic or reason.
"I want Henry McCord in here right now, we're not talking to anyone else," he said and listened. "You don't need to know who this is, you just need to know I'm taking charge of this discussion and I want Henry McCord in here. He's confused Elder Peters and we need to sort some things out."
~~/~~
A long, complicated hour later, Henry stood at the front door of the compound, waiting entry. He felt the weight of the body armor concealed under his shirt. One of many concessions he agreed to. As the door clicked and slowly opened a crack he tried to see who was on the other side. When it did not open any further, he took the hint and stepped forward.
"Close the door and lock it," a man at the end of the hallway instructed, Henry complied and waited for his next instructions. "Come."
Henry followed the moving form to the back of the house and through an unassuming white door. As he stepped over the threshold, he stopped. Seeing her hanging there was gut wrenching. The video had given him a two-dimensional look at her torment, but seeing her, being able to look her in the eye almost took him to his knees. She squeezed her eyes against the tears that instantly welled up at the sight of her husband. Stamping down every instinct to help her, Henry focused on the two other people in the room and waited for someone to take the lead.
"Professor," Justin started. "We have some questions."
"Ok, but I don't talk to people who are armed," he said looking at Caleb. When he hesitated, Henry rose his hands. "You can pat me down, I'm not armed and there are no windows in this room. There is no need for weapons while we talk."
Silence hung in the room. Henry took the moment to study Elizabeth. In and out. Her breathing was still controlled but he realized it was shallow. The steady rhythm was clearly one she chose because it caused the least amount of pain. He looked at the cuffs around her wrists, and from his vantage point, he didn't understand how they were secured. When his eyes met hers, he realized she had been watching him as he checked her out. Movement drew his attention back to the men on the other side of the room. The guns were placed on a table while Justin repositioned three chairs for the group to sit. Henry chose the chair that allowed him a direct line of sight on Elizabeth. If he picked up on any sign of distressed, he planned to intervene. Once everyone was settled, he looked at Justin expectedly.
The dark-haired man offered a sidelong glance at Caleb and then back to Henry. "Do you know who the beast is?" he asked.
"Do you?" Henry asked, looking between both men.
Caleb was the first to speak, "I know President Dalton is one of the heads."
"How do you know?" for another twenty minutes, Henry applied the Socratic method gathering information, formulating his strategy. The entire time, he was agonizingly aware that he was allowing his wife to hang in pain just ten feet away.
"No, enough," Caleb said in frustration. "No more questions. Tell me who you think the beast is."
Henry took a breath and sat back. He never thought a theological discussion would be a life or death moment of him. As they spoke though, he knew agents were getting into position to storm the room if anything went wrong or if Caleb armed himself again. Flash-bangs would incapacitate everyone in the room but if one person outside the room moved too slowly or one person inside the room moved too quickly, it could all be over for Elizabeth. In and out. "I don't think the beast is a person or seven people. Some think it was a reference to the Roman Empire, others think it's any government that is in opposition to God," Henry started. "But the beast isn't why we're here."
"It's why she's here," Caleb said, pointing at Elizabeth who was doing her best to remain silent.
The sudden attention though caused her to tense and she wasn't able to stifle the moan of pain. She watched Henry shift in his chair, prepared to come to her aid and she cursed herself. He needed to focus his attention on the conversation and she needed him to wrap it up quickly. She had been enjoying some marginal success at managing the shoulder injury by controlling her breathing and relaxing her muscles. The consequence of those actions though where an increasing pain at her wrists, which were forced to bare all her weight and a burning in her lungs. She wondered if he had to be so thorough in his impromptu Socratic seminar.
"She's here because she had the bad luck to wear the right colors, surrounded by the right number of people needed to fit your interpretation of the scripture," Henry said, ready to wrap up the conversation and get medical help to his wife. "Even if you're right, hurting her, killing her doesn't change anything. Babylon might be a city, or a denomination, or even a person, but her role is to warn the church against idolatry. If Elizabeth is Babylon, the way you find victory over her influence is to reaffirm your faith in an unseen God, turn away from any person that has been elevated to a place of worship. If she is controlling the beast, she was brought into your life to warn you against the idolatry that was growing around Reverend Morning Star," he said and let the words sink in.
Justin for his part seemed shocked at the insight, but clearly accepted the idea as a truth they needed to hear. Caleb appeared to be considering the idea but slowly shook his head. "No," he said, sitting back, getting physical distance from Henry, rejecting the idea. He was too entrenched in the ideas Douglas Peters had propagated. He knew Justin could be reformed, but Caleb was a lost cause. When Fellows stood, Henry was ready.