Counterplay

34

As Kane and his bodyguard ascended the stairs to the altar and prepared to pass, the Pope spoke up. “Please, leave the child alone,” he said.

Kane shook his head. “Now, you just sit there like a good little Pope and wait for your friends to send me lots of money.”

But the Pope continued, “Don’t compound your sins by harming another innocent life. No man is so evil that he cannot find salvation through Jesus Christ.”

“Oh pul-eeze,” Kane said, rolling his eyes. “Take a look at the world, you clown, and tell me again that two thousand years of Christianity has improved things. And let’s take the Catholic Church. You’ve been ignoring the rapacious nature of your priests for how long? Do you think raping little boys is something new? The Catholic Church is just another greedy, money-sucking leech, willing to do whatever it takes to keep the coffers full and the faithful in fear of hell if they don’t do as you say. Did you know my father was also my grandfather…yes, that’s right, he fucked his own daughter, and then your precious church hid the dirty little secret. I don’t want your salvation or God’s forgiveness. If anything, you should be asking for mine and every other child out there harmed by your crap.”

“I am God’s representative on earth,” the Pope said. “If I beg for your forgiveness, will you give up this mad plan and let the child go?”

Kane looked up at the ceiling as if considering the offer. But then looked back at the Pope and said, “Hell, no. What do I look like, an idiot?”

As he began to pass from the cathedral, Father Aidan Clary stepped forward and clutched Kane by the arm. “I’ve done what you asked,” he said. “I’ve killed, and now I’m about to become a mass murderer. Where are the woman and my child?”

Kane pulled his arm away from the scar-faced priest. “Oh, I expect you’ll be seeing them soon enough,” he said, then looked as if something else had occurred to him. “Of course, if there really is a heaven and a hell…maybe not.”

Clary’s face became such a mask of anger and grief that one of the terrorists pointed a gun and motioned him back. “You promised,” the priest sobbed.

Kane looked amused. “Yes, so I did. But guess what? I lied. So long, Father…and thanks.”

As Kane pulled Lucy into the rectory, he stopped at a room where one of his men was monitoring a bank of monitors showing the outside of the building.

“Damn,” he said, looking back to smile at Lucy. “Looks like they got us surrounded. Whatever will we do?” He patted the terrorist on the back. “Anything to worry about?”

“Not yet,” the man said. “They have called in their SWAT teams, but they seem confused as to what to do next. The infidels are never prepared to accept losses. But soon they will see how real men die, Allah akbar.”

“Yes, yes, Allah be praised and all that,” Kane said. “Let me know if anything changes.”

They continued until reaching the archbishop’s apartment where Kane led the way to the sleeping quarters where he shoved Lucy down on the bed. “Leave us,” he ordered the bodyguard, then turned to Lucy. “Sheesh, I am so tired of true believers. Don’t you find them taxing, Lucy?”

“At least they believe in something worth dying for,” Lucy replied calmly.

“At least they believe in something worth dying for,” Kane mimicked. “How droll. I hope you’re a better fuck than you are a philosopher. We have a lot of years ahead of us.”

Lucy furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I told your daddy,” Kane said. “I’m taking you with me when I leave here, and you’re going to spend whatever years I decide you have left bearing my children and servicing me whenever I feel like it.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Lucy said.

“What? And die when I blow this place into so much rubble?”

“If that’s the choice, then yes, I’d rather stay.”

Kane shook his head. “Sorry, not part of the plan. It is too bad that your dad is going to die here, and your mom and your brothers won’t be around much longer, either. I’d give almost anything to see their faces when we send them baby photos. But like I said, almost anything. Fact is, I really can’t be bothered with them anymore, I have a world out there that’s just waiting for me to take over. I’ll just have to get my kicks tormenting you for as long as it amuses me.”

“You’re insane,” Lucy said.

“Well, duh,” Kane responded. “But I really hate it when someone says that to me. So I guess we better get started. Take off your clothes, bitch.”

Lucy launched herself at Kane, surprising him with the suddenness and ferocity of her attack. A year earlier, and she might have taken his gun. But his training in Kali paid off as he sidestepped and struck her in the solar plexus with the extended fingers of his right hand. She collapsed gasping for air on the floor.

Kane took his gun out of its shoulder holster and pointed it at her as he unzipped his pants. “Take your clothes off,” he demanded.

“Fuck you,” she replied.

“Exactly, but if you don’t make this easier, I’m going to send for your boyfriend and blow his brains out all over the archbishop’s nice quilt and then fuck you in the gore,” Kane snarled.

Lucy got to her knees and nodded. “Okay, you win,” she said.

“Good, now-” Kane stopped talking and grabbed his head with his free hand. “Ow, that hurts!”

“Good, maybe it’s a stroke,” Lucy said.

“Oh, oh,” Kane cried out in pain, then he looked up as if frightened and held the gun out to Lucy. “Here, quick, shoot him.”

“What?” Lucy looked around wondering who “him” was.

“Take the gun and shoot Kane,” he said, shoving the gun toward her as she backed away.

“What’s with the sick joke, Kane? And what’s with talking like a little boy?”

“I’m not Kane,” he replied. “I’m Andy, and I’m twelve years old. Now, take the gun and shoot before he comes back.”

“You are one sick puppy, Kane.”

Kane stopped offering the gun for a moment, his face a mask of sadness as tears welled in his eyes. “Yes, he is…we are.” He tried to offer the gun again. “Please, Lucy, I’m a good boy, but I can’t do it myself. Shoot us. I want to die.”

Lucy stood up slowly and approached. The way Kane was holding the gun, she could have easily taken it out of his hand. “Wow, a complete schizophrenic break,” Lucy said in awe and in spite of herself.

“A what?” Andy asked.

“Most so-called split personalities aren’t really complete personalities within one body,” Lucy replied. “Just variations or idiosyncracies that surface in one main personality. But sometimes the personalities are complete and distinct. Andrew Kane, the psychopath. Andy, the twelve-year-old boy. Of course, I happen to believe that it has something to do with the existence of good and evil in every person. My dad and I could debate this forever.”

“There are others in here, too,” Andy offered. “Some worse than Kane. They are getting stronger and someday will take over even from him if you don’t shoot me. Then the world will be in real trouble.”

Lucy looked at the gun. “I…I don’t think I can, Andy, not while it’s a twelve-year-old boy I’d be shooting, not Andrew Kane,” she said.

“Please, Lucy, I’m scared,” Andy cried. “I don’t want to live with the others. They are mean to me and hate me. You have to do it. You’re the white queen!”

Lucy’s mouth fell open. “You sent the chess pieces,” she said.

“Yes, yes, I was trying to warn you,” Andy said. “Whenever I could get away from the mean people, like that Samira. I sent them to a friend. He’s a bicycle messenger. He gave two to a janitor who works where your daddy does. He also brought them himself. He’s my friend.”

“What about Aspen…the pawns?”

Andy smiled. “That was me when he ran by the mailbox. He didn’t see you coming down the driveway, but I did. I thought I could get you to look inside.”

“Why not write a note?” Lucy asked.

“They wouldn’t let me,” Andy pouted. “I tried. But the inside Kane thought it was a fun game to send the pieces.”

“He did know, then?”

“Not when he’s the one in control,” Andy said. “I can’t explain…but sometimes we’re all in here together, and it’s all stirred up. He knows about the chess pieces only when he’s back inside with the rest of us. So he let me send them when I was out, but nothing else.”

“But why am I the white queen? Why not my mother?” Lucy asked.

Andy looked at her like she was kidding him. “You’re mom’s too old. Geez, I’m just a kid.”

“Are you saying you have a crush on me, Andy?” Lucy asked.

Andy blushed. “I don’t like girls. But you are good and nice. Once I tried to get out when your daddy and Kane were at a party, and Kane got a bad headache trying to keep me in, you asked if I was okay…or really, if Kane was okay. You felt my forehead to see if he, I, had a temperature…like a mom is supposed to.” Andy shook his head sadly from side to side. “Like my mom never did.”

“And that’s why I’m the white queen?” Lucy said. “Because I’m nice?”

“Sort of…but mostly because the white queen is the most dangerous piece on the chessboard.”

“Me? Dangerous,” Lucy said. “Now, I do think you have me mixed up with my mom.”

“No, I don’t,” Andy said. “Why do you think Kane brought you back here and wants to do bad things to you? He’s afraid of you, and it’s because he knows, deep down, that I would want to help you stop him. Now, will you please shoot me?”

Lucy shook her head. “I probably should, but I can’t murder an innocent boy.”

Andy stomped his feet. “Girls are so dumb.”

Lucy smiled. “Sugar and spice…now what is he planning to do?”

Andy looked sad again. “He’s going to leave here with you. He has a boat waiting for him at the Columbia University boathouse. Then he’s going to take you to some place called Spite and Divel and meet a bigger boat to take you and him up the Hudson River to a safe place. But the others are going to stay and kill everyone.”

“Spuyten Duyvil,” Lucy said.

“What?”

“Spuyten Duyvil is the name of the place you just mentioned,” Lucy said. “My dad once told me a story about it.”

“I like stories,” Andy said. “I wish my mother had read me stories. I…uh oh, he’s coming back. Good-bye, Lucy, find a way to make him stop.”

“Good-bye, Andy,” Lucy replied.

Kane scowled. “I hate being called Andy. And I thought I told you to take your fucking clothes off.”

Kane was interrupted by a knock on the door. “What is it!” he shouted.

The terrorist who’d escorted them back poked his head in. “The Vatican has the money ready to transfer, but they are demanding that we release the Pope first,” he said.

Kane glared at Lucy, then reached out and grabbed her by her hair. “Oh are they,” he yelled as he pulled her out of the room and began walking back to the cathedral. “We’ll see about that.”

When they reached the altar area, Kane shoved Lucy over next to the Pope, who grabbed her hand. “Are you all right, my child?” he asked.

Lucy smiled. “Yes. I’m not afraid,” she said.

“Good,” the Pope said with a smile. “Because I am.”

Kane said something to Azzam, who said something to the largest of the terrorists standing near the Pope. The man immediately pulled a large knife from a sheath behind his back. With one hand, he cupped the Pope’s chin and pulled his head back, with the other he placed the knife at the pontiff’s throat.

Kane jumped down the stairs and ran over to the camera crew. “Roll ’em,” he screamed as he grabbed the microphone.

“Okay, assholes,” he said. “I told you no breaking the rules. Send the money NOW! Or I’ll fucking roll the bastard’s head down the steps of St. Pat’s.”

The cell phone of the terrorist who had brought him the news rang. The man listened and then nodded to Kane. “It’s done,” he said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Kane shouted. He took out his own cell phone and called Emil Stavros. “Is it there? Give it a second…okay, good.” Speaking back into the microphone, Kane was calmer. “Okay, just a little misunderstanding. But let’s not have any more of those. In the meantime, get the plane ready, and we’ll all get through this just fine. And as a gesture of goodwill for you coming to your senses, I’m going to send out your Agent Hodges and Lucy Karp. She will be unconscious but unharmed. When she wakes in a couple of hours-after my colleagues and I are long gone with His Pontificy-she will have the information on how to defuse the bombs we have set in the cathedral, and then everyone can go home. See, I’m not such a bad man.”

Kane indicated to the camera crew to cut. He then walked up to where Lucy had been fidgeting beside the Pope. “Well, my love,” he said to Samira. “It’s time we parted ways.”

“I am heartbroken,” Azzam said. “Are you sure you don’t want to remain with me to share the glorious end to this adventure?”

Kane smiled. “No. You see I have a new love…Miss Lucy here,” he said. “And we’re about to embark on our honeymoon with several hundreds of millions of dollars in the bank. Now, if you’d perform the honors.”

Azzam produced a hypodermic needle and started to walk to Lucy, who turned to Kane. “Please, I won’t give you any trouble if you let me say good-bye to my dad,” she pleaded.

Kane looked ready to deny her request but got an odd look on his face and nodded. “Sure, one last good-bye between father and daughter. But mind you, no kissing the cowboy. I’m the jealous sort.”

Lucy walked down the stairs to the aisle where her father sat propped up against one of the pews, holding a makeshift bandage made from Ned’s shirt on his head. “Do whatever it takes to stay alive, I will get you,” he said as she knelt to kiss him on the cheek.

“I know you will,” she said, then bent as if to kiss him again. “Kane’s taking me to the Hudson by way of Spuyten Duyvil from Columbia’s boathouse. The plan is to blow this place up when he’s gone.”

Lucy stood and leaned over to kiss Ned. “You are not going to do anything to stop him from leaving with me,” she said. “After that, it’s all fair game, cowboy. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lucy,” Ned said. “I’m going to marry you when this is over.”

“Ned, you are definitely going to have to choose a more appropriate time to propose,” she said and wiped at the tear that trickled down her cheek.

“Okay, okay, break it up,” Kane said. “I told you, no mushy stuff with the cowboy. He’s yesterday’s news.”

Azzam walked up to Lucy and deftly stuck the needle in her arm. Kane caught her and laid her on the floor. “All righty, then,” he said. “Now you better work me over a little. After all, Agent Hodges wouldn’t have let himself get captured without a fight.”

Azzam smiled. “With pleasure.” She struck him in the mouth with a fist that nearly knocked him over.

“Ouch, good one,” he said, spitting out a tooth. “Now, a couple more, and we’ll call it a day.”

Five minutes later, the doors of the cathedral opened and Agent Vic Hodges staggered out-bloody, one eye swollen closed, his clothes torn-with the unconscious Lucy Karp in his arms. He made it halfway down the steps before sinking to his knees. Two members of the NYPD SWAT team scurried from the police barricade; one of them took Lucy from him and the other helped him to his feet and to a waiting ambulance where Police Chief Bill Denton, Special-Agent-in-Charge Jaxon, Clay Fulton, and assistant director of Homeland Security Jon Ellis waited.

“I think she’s okay,” Hodges said. “Kane said she’d wake in a couple of hours.”

“What can you tell us about the situation inside?” Denton asked.

Hodges shook his head. He started to choke up. “It was a setup,” he said. “Someone on the inside stashed guns. Most of my team and the Swiss Guard never knew what hit them.” Tears sprang to his eyes. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. Azzam was with the nuns’ choir. I never saw her until it was too late. A lot of people, including some civilians, are dead because I messed up.”

Ellis stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s all right, kid,” he said.

“No it’s not,” Hodges said. “I tried to get to my gun, but next thing I knew it was lights out. I’m still feeling a little woozy.” As if to prove his point, his knees buckled again.

Ellis looked at the paramedic standing by the back of the ambulance. “Got room in there to get my boy checked out?”

The paramedic nodded. “Sure. The girl’s out of it, but she doesn’t seem to be in any distress,” he said. “Still, I’d like to get going.”

Ellis helped Hodges to the back of the ambulance. “Go get that head checked out. We can debrief you later. I’ll send one of the boys by to keep you company.”

“I’d rather stay, sir,” Hodges replied.

“That’s an order,” Ellis said. “Whatever happened in there wasn’t your fault. Now get out of here.”

With that, Hodges climbed in the back of the ambulance. The paramedic was about to close the doors when Fulton stopped them. “I think I’ll ride along,” he said. “I’m not much use here, and I’d like to be there for Lucy when she wakes up…especially if things go bad inside.” He looked at Hodges. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Hodges looked at Ellis and then back to the big detective. “Not at all,” he said. “I’m sure Lucy will want you there.”