Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [20]
He took his seat, folding gracefully into a kneeling position despite his weight, and lowered his head in corresponding respect, keeping his expression blank.
“Who wishes to tell me of the disasters that have passed this night?” he intoned.
The one known as Brother Heinrich spoke up. He was one of the Shirosama’s favorites—a former East German gang member who’d found salvation in the True Realization Fellowship. He could be counted on to carry out the most ruthless of disciplinary actions, all without question, but this time even he had failed.
“We have no idea where she is, Master,” Brother Heinrich said in a low voice. “The car was forced off the road and the two brothers were dead inside, and she was nowhere to be seen.”
“How did Brother Samuel and Brother Kaga die?”
“They both had broken necks. Presumably from the force of the crash. They must have hit the wind-shield—there was blood everywhere.”
“How convenient.” He allowed some of his acidity to seep into his voice. “And the girl managed to get herself out of the trunk on her own? Do limousines come with an interior latch?”
Brother Heinrich looked confused. “I don’t know…”
“They don’t,” the Shirosama informed his follower. “And the two brothers most certainly didn’t die from the accident. Someone must have been following them, following the girl, when I told them to be extremely careful there were no witnesses.”
Brother Heinrich lowered his head further in an attitude of abject shame. He was only twenty-two, and he’d managed to kill at least seven people in his short life, three of them in the service of the Shirosama. It would be a pity to dispense with his services; very few followers had the blind dedication combined with experience to meet such special needs.
“So we can only assume someone helped Miss Hawthorne to leave our protection,” the Shirosama confirmed. “You went back to her house to see if she was there?”
“We did, your holiness,” Brother Jaipur said, sounding equally miserable. He was more dispensable than Brother Heinrich, and this wasn’t the first time he’d failed him. Maybe the Shirosama could make an example of him. “The house was empty, but clearly she’d just been there. There was water surrounding her bath and her bedroom was in shambles.”
“If a woman is running from what she mistakenly perceives as danger, she doesn’t stop to take a bath. Someone else must have been involved. I am afraid Dr. Hawthorne is in very grave peril. It is our solemn duty to find her and bring her under our protection,” he intoned. “If any harm comes to her then we should bear the blame.” He allowed his milky gaze to rest on the four miscreants, one by one, making it clear that the “we” was only a figure of speech.
Brother Jaipur was foolish enough to speak up. “Shouldn’t we just retrieve the Hayashi Urn and let the girl fend for herself? Do we really need her?”
The Shirosama turned to look at him, his long, silent gaze a reproach that turned Brother Jaipur’s dark complexion pale. “We must care for all those unfortunates who have not yet seen the light. We need to lead her to paradise any way we can. There are no accidents. She was placed as the caretaker of the Hayashi Urn for a reason, and we must honor that.” He wasn’t about to share why he needed to get her under his control—that knowledge was his alone. As far as his followers knew, the Shirosama’s wisdom was infallible. The plan had indeed come to him in a vision, but that vision had left out a crucial element. Where the final ascendance was to take place.
But he knew who held the answer. And he would bleed and burn it out of her if he must, once he got his hands on her.
“Then her escape would have been preordained,” Brother Jaipur said.
The Shirosama’s pale, bleached hands were hidden beneath the folds of his white robe and no one could see his clenched fists. His expression remained serene. “Brother Jaipur, it was