Chapter IV: Blood On His Hands
Ian had followed through with his side of the deal by not shredding the Declaration, and had even managed to bust Ben out of FBI custody. Granted it wasn't the safest means of escape, but at least the criminals had had the decency to give Ben dry clothes after fishing him out of the Hudson River. And now that Ben had shown Ian the glasses and given him the next clue that would lead them into Trinity Church, the treasure hunter was more than ready to end his adventure.
"Alright, Ben," Ian said as he gingerly rolled up the antique document and returned it to its case. "Let's go into the church and find our treasure."
"No way, Ian. I spoke to Abigail, now I want to talk to Riley."
Ben was furious that his friend wasn't there with Ian, but slightly taken back by the uncharacteristic look that momentarily crossed British man's face. He looked…sad and tired—not overjoyed by the prospect of discovering Templar treasure like Ben had assumed he would. Ben grinned inwardly. Riley had probably driven his captors crazy all night. He figured that Ian couldn't wait to be rid of his obnoxious hostage.
"Ian, I want to talk to him."
Ian shook his weary head. It looked like he was trying to make a very serious decision, but couldn't quite figure out which path he should take. "Let's just go in the church, Ben," he said quietly. "Call Dr. Chase back. Tell her to join us. I'm sure she's still around here somewhere."
He passed Ben a cell phone and turned away, heading for the church. Ben stared after him for a moment, still shocked by his ex partner's behavior. But he shrugged off Ian's actions as he realized how close they actually were to the treasure. The treasure that he'd spent the majority of his life looking for. He'd dreamt of this day so many times…
"Abigail, you're still alright?"
"Ben," she said, sighing with relief. "Yes, yes everything's fine. I haven't heard from Ian, though, what's—"
"It's okay, I got the Declaration back."
She let out another relieved breath. "Oh thank God."
"I'm over by Trinity Church—Ian and I are pretty sure the treasure is in there."
"Alright. I'll be there in a few."
No more than five minutes later, Abigail came jogging around the corner. Ben had been hovering outside of the church's main entrance waiting for her. He needed to make sure that she at least was okay before Ian tried anything. He waved and she immediately saw him, racing forward with a relieved expression on her face.
"Hey, Abigail, I—"
But before he could even say a proper hello to her she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. Ben felt a surprised flush rise in his face as he stared down at her blonde head and somewhat awkwardly patted her back.
As soon as the passionate hug began it was over. Abigail pushed herself away from his chest and absentmindedly pushed her hair behind her ear as though to casually dismiss her previous action.
"I'm…really glad you're okay Ben," she said, finally looking into his eyes. "I was so worried…but Ian was…he was the only one I could think to contact to help you. I'm so sorry…"
"No, it was a smart move," Ben said, clearing his throat to hide his own moment of shocked embarrassment. "I couldn't have been able to stand another night in police custody. Besides…I almost forgot how much fun and potentially life threatening diving was."
She looked critically at him, but he threw her one of his bright smiles and she immediately softened into a smile of her own.
"You're crazy, you know," she said playfully.
He chuckled. "Yeah I know. Now let's go find some treasure."
The pair turned, hand in hand and strolled into the church, taking a second for their eyes to adjust to the dimly lit cavernous space. They moved cautiously down the aisle, taking note of one of Ian's goons following them from the back. Shaw was watching them from where he stood at the third pew, that hard look creasing his bald head as it always did.
Ian Howe stood with his back to the pair in the middle of the aisle directly in front of the altar. When he heard their footsteps echoing through the church, he turned to face them, a grim look on his face. He took a step towards them and Ben instinctively clutched the Declaration closer to his chest, afraid that Ian was having a change in heart and would try to steal it again.
"Ben, Dr. Chase," he said, nodding to them. "So good of you to join us."
Ben scanned the church, his eyes glancing over every pew on either side of him. He felt nervous butterflies go nuts in his stomach when it dawned on him that something was still missing.
"Where is he, Ian?"
Ian glared at him.
"Where is Riley?"
Ian turned his back to them again. "Coming in through the back door, with the rest of my men. Then we're going after my treasure."
Ben growled at that and stared hatefully at Ian's back. The bastard was going to manipulate Ben and force him to go on until he had the treasure in his grasp. It never occurred to Ian that there were more important things in the world than wealth and fame. Even Ben realized this, and he'd been obsessed with the Templar treasure since he heard the story when he was a boy.
Footsteps sounded from somewhere in the church and Ian turned to glance at a door off towards his left, just beyond the first pew on the right side of the church. Powell entered slowly, holding the door open behind him. He briefly made eye contact with Ben before darting his gaze to the stone floor. A second later, Phil stepped into the church carrying something in his arms and Ben couldn't contain his gasp of surprise.
"Riley?" he called in disbelief.
Ben watched in horror, frozen to where he stood, as the man gently lowered Riley to the ground in front of the altar. He was completely limp, and pale, and unmoving…
Abigail gasped as Ben shook his head out of his momentary daze and shoved Ian out of the way so he could get to his young friend. Surprisingly, neither Ian nor his men made any move to stop Ben from kneeling down in front of Riley.
This wasn't real—it couldn't be. Riley was asleep. Knocked out. Something. He wasn't…couldn't be… Ian was a jerk, the kind of jerk who would wave a gun in your face and threaten the people you love to get what he wants, but he would never actually kill anyone…would he?
Just a few hours earlier…
"Everything is prepared?"
Shaw nodded. They'd spent the very early hours of the morning getting the supplies they would need for Ben's grand rescue. They had no choice but to be ready if they wanted the treasure.
"The diver knows where to go, you have your equipment," Ian mumbled to himself as he unlocked his apartment door. "The timing is good." He straightened up and smiled at his coconspirator as they entered Ian's lavish apartment. "Overall I think this should go by very smoothly. All we have to do is hope Ben follows through for us."
Shaw grinned. "I think he will, whether he wants to or not."
Ian laughed and clapped his friend on the back. "Shaw, by this time tomorrow we'll be rich men. Very rich men."
"You really believe that bitch was telling the truth about the clue and the magic glasses?"
"I don't think she would have anything to gain by not telling us the truth." Ian glanced absentmindedly at his watch. "Help me get our friend to the car, then go and meet Powell at the Intrepid. I'll be waiting for you over on Broadway."
Ian strolled around the corner of the kitchen into the dining room. He walked to the far head of the table where the over turned chair still lay with Riley stuck securely to it.
"Wake up, Riley," he said loudly, not relenting as he kicked at one of the young man's legs that were still tied awkwardly to the chair. "Time to go."
There was no reaction from the unconscious form on the floor, and Ian found himself growing frustrated. He crouched down and slapped at Riley's face, taken back for a moment by how pale and cold the his skin was. There was no response, not even a muffled groan. Riley's head just lolled limply to the side. "Come on, wake up."
He glanced up at Shaw with a worried look on his face. Shaw merely shrugged. Ian turned back to Riley with a furrowed brow as he gently worked the wadded up dish towel out of the younger man's mouth, now alarmed by the unresponsiveness of his hostage. He imagined that even if unconscious, Riley would still complain, or at least make some kind of annoying noise…
Ian suddenly felt very anxious as he got a better look at Riley's face. It wasn't just pale—it was colorless. And now, with the gag out of his mouth, Ian could see that Riley's lips had turned a shade of purplish blue. Ian swallowed hard as he put his shaky fingers on Riley's neck and held them there, waiting for a steady thump of a pulse as his own blood grew as cold as Riley's skin.
"What is it?" Shaw could obviously see the tension and panic that had risen in his friend. "Is he…?"
Ian lowered his hand but stayed where he was on his knees hunched over the body before him. He felt something then that he'd never really felt before—anger, guilt, and, surprisingly even for him, remorse.
"He…he's gone," he said quietly before Shaw could ask again.
"What? What do you mean he's gone?" There was confusion and panic in Shaw's usually cold and steady voice.
"I mean he's bloody died, right here in my God damn dining room!" Ian shocked even himself with his shrill yell.
Shaw was silent then, knowing better than to talk back to Ian when he was angry.
"How could this have happened?" Ian asked himself quietly, though he knew damn well what must have happened. They'd left Riley tied up and lying on his back with a towel shoved in his mouth for almost eight hours—more than enough time for the young man to slowly suffocate.
After a tense moment Shaw cleared his throat. "I'll take care of the body," he suggested quietly. "Hide him for now, then dump him in the river later."
"And what about Ben," Ian said, his gaze never leaving Riley's lifeless face. "This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to...to die…" Ian choked on the last word as the reality of the situation sunk fully into his brain.
"I'll take care of it," Shaw repeated. He put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, and to both men's surprise Ian didn't shrug him away.
"No," Ian finally said. He wasn't yelling anymore. In fact he sounded exhausted and as though his mind was miles away from his apartment. "We will follow through with the plan and meet Ben at the rendezvous point. I'll have that treasure yet. And if the body of his friend isn't enough incentive for Ben, then I don't know what is."
Back to the present…
Ben knelt over Riley in numb shock. It was as though there was no one else in the room—in fact there was no room. Ben's only focus was on the pale face before him.
"Riley," he croaked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His throat had gone painfully dry when it dawned on him that his young friend wouldn't be able to hear him anyway. He gently ran his fingers through the dark, messy hair, cringing inwardly at how cold Riley's skin was.
There were so many things he needed to say to Riley—so many things he needed to thank him for, and apologize to him for—and now he would never get the chance. He couldn't help but feel like this was all his fault. Riley had been kidnapped, hurt, and killed by Ian and he'd been all alone during the whole thing. What kind of a person was Ben, if he couldn't even save his friend?
Ben let out a shaky breath and was somewhat surprised to find tears falling down his cheeks. Benjamin Franklin Gates was not a crier. He was a suck it up and deal with it kind of guy. But now with the realization that Riley, his best friend—probably his only friend—was gone, Ben couldn't help but be emotional. Riley was so young…he had so much left to live for. But now it was gone. All gone. And the more Ben thought about it, the more it came back to being only one other person's fault.
Ben slowly raised his head, so his tearful eyes could meet Ian's. Ian, the man he'd befriended and traveled the world with. Ian, the man that betrayed him, but managed to maintain a sense of professional dignity in their little treasure hunting competition. And Ian, the man that had kidnapped and stolen the life of his best friend.
"You bastard," Ben growled in a voice that frightened even himself. But suddenly all he could see was red. He had felt numb and dizzy before but now it was very clear what he had to do as the anger bubbled painfully up inside of him.
"Ben," Ian said softly as he was unable to even meet Ben's eye. "I just want you to know that this wasn't intentional. I never wanted to…I didn't mean…" He shook his head and looked genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry, Ben. For once I'm being straight with you. You have no idea how sorry I am."
Ian finally looked to the treasure hunter and was startled by the uncharacteristically livid look on the other man's face. He didn't even have a second to react when Ben suddenly lunged at him like some kind of feral animal. The normally calm and composed treasure hunter tackled Ian to the ground with an unintelligible battle cry and pounded his fists against every bit of flesh that he could reach. Ian struggled valiantly, but was no match for Ben's fury.
He struck Ian across the cheek, blackened his eyes, crushed his nose, and eventually popped his jaw out of its socket. At first Ian had yelled for Ben to stop, though his yells were becoming steadily weaker as Ben continued to pummel him until all that could be heard was Ian gurgling on his own blood. In one last valiant effort to attempt to save himself, Ian blindly pulled his gun out of his jacket with a shaking hand and pointed it at Ben. But Ben, still adrenaline fueled by his rage and despair, was quick to force the gun away from himself so it was instead pointed in Ian's direction. A deafening crack echoed in the church as a bullet lodged itself somewhere in Ian's chest.
Ben stayed where he was kneeling over the other man's bloodied and now virtually unrecognizable body. He held the gun tight in his shaking hands and forced himself to look up from the mess he'd created. He found himself face to face with the church's altar, now splattered with blood from the cast off of Ian's face. Ben saw the blood there and on the floor pooling under the body beneath him and he suddenly felt very sick to his stomach. Not to mention terrified at what he had done.
He spun around and saw Abigail staring horrified at him from where she was crouched over Riley's body. And Riley…Riley still pale, and cold, and…dead…
"Oh, God," Ben muttered as he hid his face behind his bloodied hands. How could everything have gone so wrong? Riley shouldn't have died. He wasn't even supposed to have been kidnapped in the first place. It was Ben's job to protect him. Instead he'd taken another man's life in desperation. And rather than feeling closure over Riley's death, he felt terrible over what he'd done to Ian. He was no better than the man he'd just pummeled to death.
"See what you guys did," Ben yelled in his shaky voice as he waved his pistol in Shaw and company's direction who were keeping their distance in silent shock. "No one was supposed to get hurt. No one was supposed to die. All for some…some stupid and for all we know completely fictional treasure!" He was hysterical now and waving the gun around wildly while he tossed around accusations to dispel some of his own feelings of guilt. "You people are…are morons!"
Ben accidently accentuated his final statement by pulling the trigger of the gun he was holding. The bullet lodged into the church's high ceiling and out of harm's way, but the shock of the sudden blast forced a very tense, very frightened Shaw to react. He raised his own gun, and before anyone could even think of reacting, he pulled the trigger.
Ben stumbled back with a cry as Shaw's bullet ripped through his side. When Ben could hear past his own shock and pain, he heard Abigial scream, followed by very near sounding police sirens. Someone outside in the busy New York City streets must have heard the shots coming from inside the church and called 911. Shaw, Powell, Phil, and Shippen responded quickly and dashed out of the back of the building, leaving Ben and Abigail alone with the bodies of Riley and Ian.
With a lot of effort Ben moved forward and fell to Riley's side with a pained grunt. Abigail was staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. He was surprised to see tears on her cheeks, reminding him of the tears in his own eyes. She looked from his face downward. He followed her gaze and was surprised to see his shirt was stained with blood that was flowing freely from the gunshot wound he'd sustained to his torso.
The sounds of wailing sirens grew closer and closer as Ben's eyesight grew dimmer and dimmer. Ben forced himself to look at Riley's pale, dead face one last time before he finally fell in an unconscious heap at his best friend's side.
Don't worry kids—in the other version of this one Riley lives. I just wanted to get this story over with. Thanks for as always for reading and reviewing :)
