The Serpent's Kiss

EPILOGUE

Derek Stillwater opened his eyes. He felt like shit. His entire body ached and throbbed. His vision was poor. He found it difficult to focus. Sarin affected the eyes, called miosis, making the pupils constrict. Everything seemed a little dark, despite the lights shining brightly in what apparently was a hospital room.

He turned to see General James Johnston sitting next to his bed. Johnston looked up from a report he was reading. “Hello, Derek.”

“So I died and went to hell.”

Johnston grunted. It might have been a laugh. “You’re alive, my friend. A little worse for wear, but Zoelig was able to get atropine and a few other things into you and get you here.”

“Where’s here?”

“William Beaumont Hospital.”

Derek closed his eyes. He had no memory of getting here. He vaguely remembered gunshots and Jill appearing. He remembered offering her the atropine injector. Then he had no memory after that.

“The Aum are back,” he said.

Johnston nodded. “So it appears.”

“Kevin Matsumoto may be the son of Shoko Asahara. We need to get in touch with the Japanese—”

”I already have.” Johnston held up the report. “My counterpart in Japan faxed me this immediately. Here, look at this.” He handed Derek a photograph. It was of Kevin Matsumoto and a Japanese woman in what looked like a bar.

Derek struggled to focus his eyes. It read: Rika Matsumoto and Kevin Matsumoto (American). Zengenjimachi, Miyakojima-ku, Osaka. It was dated six months earlier.

“That’s Rika? The head of Aleph?”

“Yes,” Johnston said. “The revered daughter of Shoko Asahara. They’ve also sent me a transcript of part of their conversation, although they didn’t get all of it. You know the Japanese National Police have the core of Aum Shinrikyo that aren’t in prison under around-the-clock surveillance.”

“For the last ten years. I thought it was going to end soon.”

Johnston shrugged. “I doubt it’ll ever end. Here, want to read?”

“My eyesight’s not so hot. What’s it say?”

Johnston glanced at the report. “She insists that her father was always faithful to her mother and she doesn’t believe that Kevin is her half-brother. He says a DNA test can prove that he is. She insists that he’s welcome to join Aleph, but he is not a child of Shoko Asahara and has no right to be the leader, that’s her birthright. Then Kevin gets angry, tells her he’s going to prove that he’s the rightful leader of Aum, gets up and stomps out of the bar.”

“Nice of them to share that with us after the fact.”

Johnston nodded. “20/20 hindsight. And so much for intergovernmental cooperation.”

“It never occurs to them that a biochemistry graduate student who think he’s the rightful heir to Aum Shinrikyo might have some nastiness planned.”

“Sakamoto Tsutsumi, my associate in Japan, assures me they would have gotten it to me or the FBI eventually.”

Derek closed his eyes and groaned. Such bullshit. Suddenly he turned to Johnston. “Did Michael make it?”

“He’s better than you. He’ll be fine.”

“Gutsy kid. Takes after his dad.”

“Yes, I understand you knew his father.”

Derek nodded. “A good man. And Jill’s a good woman, too. She’s got some guts, once she starts thinking for herself. I look forward to seeing them.”

Johnston stood up and looked down at Derek. “That may have to wait a while. You’re officially dead.”

Derek groaned. “Oh boy. This is hell after all. What are you doing here? How long have you been here?”

Johnston shook his head. “I got in around eight-thirty. I left as fast as I could after receiving a disturbing telephone call from an FBI agent named Simona Toreanno. It’s a long story and not what I have to say to you right now. I received some top-level intelligence today, Derek. About Coffee.”

Derek struggled to sit up. “What?!”

Johnston pushed him gently back down. “Rest. Take it easy. They think he’s somewhere in the United States. I thought it might be good, especially since this opportunity came up, for Coffee to think you’re dead.”

Derek rested against the pillow, thinking, Kevin Matsumoto and Aum Shinrikyo momentarily forgotten. Richard Coffee. He called himself The Fallen, or The Fallen Angel. The leader of a cult-like group of terrorists determined to obtain a weapon of mass destruction and wreak havoc on the world. A man he had once called a friend.

The Fallen Angel was back in the country.

Derek thought about what General Johnston had done. He smiled. “It’s like the Irish toast, isn’t it?”

Johnston looked puzzled. “What’s that?”

“A famous Irish toast.” Derek smiled again, thinking. Planning. “May you find yourself in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead.”