The Messiah Secret - James Becker [125]
He watched helplessly as the man who’d walked out of the cave – and then apparently surrendered – stood up and drew a pistol. Holding his weapon ready, he started to work his way across the slope towards him. Killian looked around, but there was nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide, a cliché come hideously to life. He raised his arms and waited.
But even as he watched the armed man approach, he smiled slightly. Whatever happened now, he was content. If the Lord God had not wanted him to be here, in this place and at this time, he would not be here. God clearly still had a task for him to complete. He closed his eyes. ‘Thy will be done, oh Lord,’ he prayed.
John Cross strode over to where Killian stood. ‘On the ground, face down, arms and legs wide apart,’ he ordered.
Killian obeyed, and Cross quickly and expertly searched him.
‘Who’s this?’ Nick Masters asked, walking across to them.
‘No idea, but he climbed out of that chopper that buggered off, so he must have something to do with whatever the hell this is all about. Maybe Donovan would like a word with him? Nice shooting, by the way.’
‘Thanks,’ Masters replied. He reached down, grabbed the recumbent figure by the collar and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet.
‘You speak English?’ Masters asked, and their captive nodded.
‘OK. We’re going down to the cave. You try to get away and I’ll shoot your legs from under you – you understand that?’
The man nodded again, and the short procession started making its way across the slope towards the dark shadow that delineated the cave entrance.
65
‘Masters!’ Donovan called out, as the mercenary soldier walked back into the cave. ‘Bronson’s got a gun. You’ve got to help me.’
Masters walked over to where Bronson was holding Donovan, the barrel of the semi-automatic pistol pressed into his neck.
‘Where did he get the gun?’ Donovan demanded.
‘I gave it to him,’ Masters said simply.
‘You did what? Why the hell did you do that?’
‘Because I’m a soldier, not a hired killer. That means I don’t shoot unarmed people whose only crime seems to be that they’re smarter than you are, Donovan.’
There was a commotion as Cross dragged in another man and slammed him against the wall.
‘Who are you?’ Cross demanded roughly, pushing his gun into the captive’s chest.
The man peered around in the gloom, his eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness, but didn’t reply.
‘Chris, it’s the priest,’ Angela said, standing up. Her voice carried clearly across the cave. ‘He was the one who tried to kill me.’
‘Did he now?’ Masters murmured. ‘Not exactly what I’d expect from a priest.’
‘My name is Father Michael Killian, and I am an ordained minister of the Church.’ The man’s voice was rough and hoarse. ‘Whatever I do, I am doing God’s work. I know you,’ he said, looking at Donovan, who was still being held by Bronson. ‘And if it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll stop this appalling blasphemy you’ve been planning. That’s what I’ve been sent here to do.’
‘Sent by whom?’ Bronson asked.
‘By God Himself,’ Killian said, pride in his voice. ‘I am His messenger, and His agent.’
‘Gimme a break,’ Masters muttered.
‘This isn’t blasphemy, you lunatic,’ Donovan shouted. ‘This could be the greatest single advance in the history of medicine since the invention of anaesthetics or the discovery of antibiotics.’
‘And it’ll make you a multi-billionaire in the process. But I don’t suppose that’s influenced your decision in any way,’ Killian spat.
Masters looked from one man to the other, almost smiling at the vitriol. ‘Well, it doesn’t look to me like either of you is in any position to do much, one way or the other.’ He paused, then stepped across to the flat wall. ‘Let’s take a look at what we have here. This is the place you wanted to find, JJ?’
Donovan nodded, while Killian struggled furiously against Cross’s iron grip. ‘This is sacrilege, blasphemy.’
‘Can’t be both, can it?’ Masters