The Source - Michael Cordy [101]
Ross shifted as Mendoza stepped out of one of three tents by the lake. He felt his fury return. 'Positive.'
'The priest called him Marco – Marco Bazin,' said Hackett. 'The bastard's going through our backpacks now.'
As Ross lay on the ground, he thought of Lauren, helpless on her hospital bed. God, he missed her. He yearned to call his father and ask how she and the baby were. He had come so close to saving them; he had held their salvation in his hand. He no longer cared about the source or the caves. He only wanted Lauren back. As he watched Bazin retrieve the rock crystal and Father Orlando's damaged notebook, he stoked the rage burning within him. He still found it hard to believe Torino's duplicity: a so-called man of God offering him sympathy and requesting his wife's notes – in a hospital chapel of all places – after he had ordered the burglary responsible for Lauren's injuries. There was no way Ross was leaving this garden without the one thing he had come for: the means to save his family. If Torino wanted war, then so be it.
Bazin turned towards them, stepped over Hackett and pulled a knife from his belt.
'Come to stab us in the back again, have you?' said Hackett.
Bazin ignored him and turned to the soldiers. 'Gag them. The Father General doesn't want them communicating.' He knelt down and cut the plastic ties on Ross's and Sister Chantal's ankles. 'He wants you two to talk, though.' He grabbed their wrists and pulled them to their feet. 'Come.'
61
'Tell me something, Osvaldo,' Kelly demanded, as Bazin led them to Torino.
'My name is Marco.'
'Okay, Marco, my loyal and trustworthy friend, tell me how much Torino's paying you. How much does a lowlife bag of shit like you cost?'
The other man's tone infuriated Bazin. The scientist, an atheist who believed in nothing, had no right to assume he was superior to him. 'The Father General's paying me nothing. I'm doing this to cleanse my soul. This is God's work.'
'No,' said Sister Chantal. 'This may be the Father General's work but it is not God's.'
'What would you, a traitor to the Church, know about God's work?' said Bazin.
Kelly stared at him. 'You're doing this because you think it's right?' Bazin pushed him on, but Kelly hadn't finished. 'Remember our chat about deeds being everything? You said that only God and the Church can judge if a man's deeds are good or bad. Tell me one thing. How the fuck does your God justify you putting my wife into a coma?' He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw muscles bunched. 'I can't believe Juarez died saving your life. His was worth infinitely more than yours. Christ, I can't believe I saved your fucking life. Instead of pulling you out of the bat shit I should have left you to your fellow cockroaches.'
Bazin burnt to make the geologist understand the righteousness of his deeds. 'You weren't supposed to be in the house, and I didn't mean to hurt your wife but the Superior General needed her files. She got in the way.'
'Really? And those men you killed on the boat? The ones you set up to join our gang, to spy on us? Did you intend to kill them?'
'No.'
'Christ,' said Kelly. 'In that case, I hope you do intend to kill me.'
Bazin sighed. 'No, my friend, you don't. I was once paid to kill. I was good at it, too. Some said I was the best. I've lost count of how many men I intended to kill but I know they're all dead.'
'Is that you speaking now, Marco, or the Scourge of God? It's getting hard to tell the difference.'
The geologist's refusal to understand him, and his arrogant assumption that only he was right, incensed Bazin. He had been justified in betraying Kelly and the others. Having seen the garden, and experienced its power, he knew it was too important to be left in the hands of men like him. Or those who had betrayed Rome, like Sister Chantal. Even Hackett would let the drug companies exploit it for money. Only the Holy Mother Church could and should channel its power. Only his half-brother, the Black Pope, was qualified to know how best to use it. Bazin