“Malleus sets up caches of equipment, money, and so forth. He could have tapped into any one of them. I tried his cell phone. He’s not returning my calls.”
“He thinks you’ve been mindscrambled by the enemy,” I muttered. “What did you expect to accomplish?”
“I had hoped,” Forthill said gently, “that I might ask him to be patient and have faith.”
“I’m pretty sure this guy believes in faith through superior firepower.” I closed the file and passed it back to Forthill. “He tried to kill me. He abducted Alicia. As far as I’m concerned, he’s off the reservation.”
Forthill’s expression became distressed as he looked at me. He turned to Michael, beseeching.
Michael’s face was bleak and unyielding, and quiet heat smoldered in his eyes. “The son of a bitch hurt my little girl.”
I rocked a step backward at the profanity. So did Forthill. The room settled into an oppressive silence.
The old priest cleared his throat after a moment. He put the file back in the cabinet and closed the door. “I’ve told you what I know,” he said. “I’m only sorry that I can’t do more.”
“You can find her, can’t you?” Michael asked me. “The way you found Molly?”
“Sure,” I said. “But he’s bound to be expecting that. Magic isn’t a cure-all.”
“But you can find her.”
I shrugged. “He can’t stop me from finding her, but he can damn well make sure that something happens to her if I do.”
Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe he stashes her in a box that’s being held fifty feet above the ground with an electromagnet, so that when I get close with an active spell up and running, it shorts out and she falls. The bastard is smart and creative.”
Michael’s knuckles popped as his hands closed into fists.
“Besides,” I said. “We don’t need to find him.”
“No?”
“No,” I said. “We’ve got the swords. He’s got the girl.” I turned to go. “He’s going to find us.”
Father Douglas called Michael’s house later that night, and asked for me. I took the call in Michael’s office.
“You know what I want,” he said, without preamble.
“Obviously,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Bring the swords,” he said. “Give them to me. If you do so without attempting any tricks or deceptions, I will release the girl to you unharmed. If you involve the police or attempt anything foolish, she will die.”
“How do I know you haven’t killed her already?”
The phone rustled, and then Alicia said, “H-Harry? I’m okay. H-he hasn’t hurt me.”
“Nor do I want to,” Father Douglas said, taking the phone back. “Satisfied?”
“Can I ask you something?” I said. “Why are you doing this?”
“I am doing God’s work.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound too crazy or anything,” I said. “If you’re so tight with God, can you really expect me to believe that you’ll be willing to murder a teenage girl?”
“The world needs the swords,” he replied in a level, calm voice. “They are more important than any one person. And while I would never forgive myself, yes. I will kill her.”
“I’m just trying to get you to see the fallacious logic you’re using here,” I said. “See, if I’m such a bad guy to have stolen the swords, then why would I give a damn whether or not you murder some kid?”
“You don’t have to be evil to be ambitious—or wrong. You don’t want to see the girl harmed. Give me the swords and she won’t be.”
There clearly wasn’t going to be any profitable discussion of the situation here. Father Douglas was going to have his way, regardless of the impediments of trivial things like rationality.
“Where?” I asked.
He gave me an address. “The roof. You come to the east side of the building. You show me the swords. Then you come up and make the exchange. No staff, no rod. Just you.”
“When.”
“One hour,” he said, and hung up.
I put the phone down,
“He thinks you’ve been mindscrambled by the enemy,” I muttered. “What did you expect to accomplish?”
“I had hoped,” Forthill said gently, “that I might ask him to be patient and have faith.”
“I’m pretty sure this guy believes in faith through superior firepower.” I closed the file and passed it back to Forthill. “He tried to kill me. He abducted Alicia. As far as I’m concerned, he’s off the reservation.”
Forthill’s expression became distressed as he looked at me. He turned to Michael, beseeching.
Michael’s face was bleak and unyielding, and quiet heat smoldered in his eyes. “The son of a bitch hurt my little girl.”
I rocked a step backward at the profanity. So did Forthill. The room settled into an oppressive silence.
The old priest cleared his throat after a moment. He put the file back in the cabinet and closed the door. “I’ve told you what I know,” he said. “I’m only sorry that I can’t do more.”
“You can find her, can’t you?” Michael asked me. “The way you found Molly?”
“Sure,” I said. “But he’s bound to be expecting that. Magic isn’t a cure-all.”
“But you can find her.”
I shrugged. “He can’t stop me from finding her, but he can damn well make sure that something happens to her if I do.”
Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe he stashes her in a box that’s being held fifty feet above the ground with an electromagnet, so that when I get close with an active spell up and running, it shorts out and she falls. The bastard is smart and creative.”
Michael’s knuckles popped as his hands closed into fists.
“Besides,” I said. “We don’t need to find him.”
“No?”
“No,” I said. “We’ve got the swords. He’s got the girl.” I turned to go. “He’s going to find us.”
Father Douglas called Michael’s house later that night, and asked for me. I took the call in Michael’s office.
“You know what I want,” he said, without preamble.
“Obviously,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Bring the swords,” he said. “Give them to me. If you do so without attempting any tricks or deceptions, I will release the girl to you unharmed. If you involve the police or attempt anything foolish, she will die.”
“How do I know you haven’t killed her already?”
The phone rustled, and then Alicia said, “H-Harry? I’m okay. H-he hasn’t hurt me.”
“Nor do I want to,” Father Douglas said, taking the phone back. “Satisfied?”
“Can I ask you something?” I said. “Why are you doing this?”
“I am doing God’s work.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound too crazy or anything,” I said. “If you’re so tight with God, can you really expect me to believe that you’ll be willing to murder a teenage girl?”
“The world needs the swords,” he replied in a level, calm voice. “They are more important than any one person. And while I would never forgive myself, yes. I will kill her.”
“I’m just trying to get you to see the fallacious logic you’re using here,” I said. “See, if I’m such a bad guy to have stolen the swords, then why would I give a damn whether or not you murder some kid?”
“You don’t have to be evil to be ambitious—or wrong. You don’t want to see the girl harmed. Give me the swords and she won’t be.”
There clearly wasn’t going to be any profitable discussion of the situation here. Father Douglas was going to have his way, regardless of the impediments of trivial things like rationality.
“Where?” I asked.
He gave me an address. “The roof. You come to the east side of the building. You show me the swords. Then you come up and make the exchange. No staff, no rod. Just you.”
“When.”
“One hour,” he said, and hung up.
I put the phone down,
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