“Don’t matter what you think.” Rudiger checked his watch again.
Sidams leaned forward and joined the conversation. “What I want to know is why this guy has such a hard-on for you, Jonas. First he tries to kill you in the Army, then he tries again outside your house.”
“And again now,” Jonas said.
“True. Guess he’s hoping the third time’s a charm.”
“Maybe he just likes a challenge. He hasn’t been able to kill me yet.”
Rudiger raised his gun. “Maybe I’ll just kill you now.”
“No,” Jonas said. He felt the heat rise through him. God, how he wanted to just slam that bastard against the wall and smash his fists into his face. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because of Anne. Rudiger wasn’t bluffing. Jonas knew
she would die
if they didn’t do exactly what Rudiger wanted. “You need me,” Jonas continued. “You need me up on that cross, don’t you? Somewhere you have three crosses waiting for us, and if you shoot me now you won’t get what you want.”
Rudiger’s face twitched. “You have no idea what I want.”
“Then tell us,” the Senator said. “Listen, son, I’m not a psychologist, but I can pretty well guess that serial killers need psychological help. You can get that. We can help you.
Just tell us what you want.”
Rudiger suddenly rushed up to the Senator and shoved the gun into the neck, pressing Sidams down against the bed. Jonas jumped up and towered over Rudiger, poised to strike.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” Rudiger said. “I want you to play your role, because you’re
supposed
to play your role. You don’t have a choice. It’s how it’s supposed to be. You are not the One, but you are still important.” His eyes closed and his hand shook as the barrel of the gun pressed harder into the Senator’s neck. “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken...” Rudiger seemed to have disappeared, replaced by something Jonas remembered from Somalia. He was the devil. The devil quoting scripture. “They will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of the sky, with power and great glory... I tell you the truth, this generation
will certainly not pass away
until all these things have happened.”
Jonas had seconds to make his move. Rudiger’s back was to him. He could punch the gun away and square off for a fight. The Senator could grab the weapon and that would be it. It could be over in seconds.
Do it, Jonas. Now.
Now.
The adrenaline surged through his body. He readied himself. Rudiger was still on top of Sidams, and the Senator was now wheezing. We’ll take him alive, Jonas thought. He’ll tell us where Anne is. He will. We’ll make him, no matter what we have to do to him.
Do it now. Only seconds left.
Don’t wait any longer
. A knock at the door.
Jonas felt himself lose balance. The knock pulled him back just as he was ready to attack.
Rudiger pushed himself off Sidams and back into the middle of the room—it happened so fast Jonas barely had time to register what was happening. Rudiger was undeniably a powerful man, regardless of his mental state. He was both strong and fast, Jonas knew, and not to be underestimated.
Rudiger trained the gun on Jonas. “Would be a mistake,” Rudiger said. “I know you. You want to be the one in charge, but you can’t be. Not here. Not now. I don’t care about dying. But I promise you your girlfriend does.”
Jonas didn’t move. “Back on the bed.” Jonas sat.
Another knock at the door. “Stay still.”
Rudiger turned and went to door, looking through the security hole.
Jonas tensed.
Please, God. Let Stages be alone.
Rudiger took a step back into the room.
“Come here,” he said in a loud whisper to Sidams. “Open the door.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m telling you to. Move now.”
The Senator stood and walked slowly over to Rudiger. Jonas noticed a small round welt on the Senator’s neck where Rudiger had pressed the gun.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing. Just open the door and gesture for them to come inside.”
“Them?”
“
Do it.
Now.”
“Don’t,” the Senator said. “
Don’t
.”
Rudiger raised his gun. “Last chance. Open the door.”
“Don’t do this. I’m begging you.”
A third knock.
Rudiger steadied himself and drew a deep breath. Then he shoved the Senator with massive force back into the room, catching Sidams off-balance. He sprawled to the floor and missed slamming his head into the corner of the bedside desk by inches.
Jonas watched everything in slow motion.
Rudiger slipped both of his weapons in his belt and opened the door. His body blocked Jonas’s view, but only for a second. Rudiger grabbed Stages arm and yanked him inside the room. Like the Senator, Stages lost all control and his large body tumbled with a heavy thud onto the carpet. He had barely let out a
What the fuck?
before Jonas saw the second person standing there. It was a young man, maybe thirty, wearing a dark grey suit and a bright yellow tie. Jonas had met him before. Greg? Craig? He worked for the Ambassador, that’s all Jonas knew.
The man’s brown eyes widened in fear at what had just happened, but then grew even wider when Rudiger pulled out the gun.
“Inside,” Rudiger said.
Jonas shook his head at the man. Run, Jonas wanted to yell.
Run
.
The man took three tentative steps inside the room. His face lost all color.
Rudiger shut the door. Then locked it.
The Ambassador yelled. “What the hell is all this?”
The Senator watched everything from the floor. Jonas studied Rudiger’s eyes.
It was too late.
The Ambassador’s aide spoke one word to his boss. “Bill?” Rudiger reached down and pulled a knife from a sheath strapped to his ankle. Hunting knife. Black blade, about six inches.
No one had time to react.
Rudiger attacked from behind, grabbing a fistful of the aide’s hair, yanking back his head. The knife sliced his throat wide open. Blood sprayed against the cream-colored walls. Against the armoire.
The man barely made a sound as he collapsed and died on the well-worn carpet of the hotel room.
RUDIGER WATCHES
the man fall to the carpeted floor, his body making a thud. Sounds like a suitcase falling off a bed. Then, nothing. Gone.
Wipes the blade on his pant leg and sheaths the weapon.
Good, Preacherman says in his ear. Nice and clean. You sure know your way around a knife, boy.
He feels it. Feels the rush. Just like every other time. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he only has himself to be honest with. Death warms him. Excites him. He feels power, even only for a fleeting moment. Makes him want to kill more.
Maybe it’s true, he thinks.
Maybe I’m jes crazy
.
A man is howling. Rudiger looks over. The Ambassador. “Shut up,” Rudiger says.
The man is hysterical. The fat hanging off his chin shakes and wobbles with his cries.
Rudiger takes out his gun. Doesn’t want to use it—too much noise anyhow. But it should get the point across. He aims it at the man’s head.
“Shut up now. Understand me?”
The fat man nods his head. Screams fade into foolish whimpers. Snot creeps from his left nostril.
Disgusting.
Am I crazy?
He holsters his weapon and thinks about what Jonas has said. About Asperger’s Syndrome. About autism. He knows Jonas was attempting to rile him, but still...
Could it be true?
He’s crazy, they all say. He’s a
serial killer
. And aren’t they all bat-shit crazy? Course they are. Must be. Dahmer ate his victims—what normal person would do that?
He kills in the name of God, they say. Uses it as an excuse. The killing just excites him, but he’s convinced himself it’s done for a cause. A just cause. But it’s all a lie, they say. He just wants to kill.
He looks at the body on the floor. The scarlet blood spirals on the hotel walls.
He can’t deny the sight of death excites him. But
he knows what he knows
, and he is what he is. He was born thus, and God made him. If he’s crazy, it’s only because that’s how it’s supposed to be.
One man’s insanity is another man’s religion.
Too late now anyway, Rudiger thinks. I’m so close. Right or wrong, find out soon enough anyhow. Soon it will all be over.
“Goddamn you,” the Senator says. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Rudiger ignores him, not bothering to tell him that God won’t damn him at all. Not one bit.
“Senator, put the bedspread over the body.” Sidams does.
Rudiger tells him to sit on the bed. Tells the Ambassador to do the same.
“Dismas and Gestas,” Rudiger says, looking at the older men.
“Sidams and Stages,” Jonas replied.
The fat man squeezes his neck. Seems calmer now that the body is hidden under a blanket. “What the hell is he talking about?”
Jonas explains. About the day Christ was crucified. About the two criminals who shared the Glory. Dismas and Gestas.
Rudiger watches the information process behind the Ambassador’s eyes. He sees the exact moment when the fat man realizes what it going to happen. What
has
to happen. How the man will die. How they all will.
“No,” the man says. “
No
.”
“Calm down, Bill.”
The Ambassador is close to hysterics again. Rudiger prays for more strength for the man. Would make things much easier.
“But...but there are three of us,” the fat man pleads to the Senator. “He can’t carry us all out of here. And even if he shoots us, it’s better than what else he wants to do.”
There is a silence and then Jonas explains about the woman. About Anne.
“I’m not dying for some woman I don’t even know.”
“Ambassador,” Jonas says. “Just do as you are told.”
“I won’t!”
The fat man leaps off the bed.
Rudiger takes two steps forward and backhands him across the face. The man does a half spin and nearly falls before catching himself. The blow feels good against the bones in his hand. Warming.
He worries about the noise. If someone next door heard the yelling, security could be on the way.
“No more time,” he says. “We have to leave now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Bill,” the Senator says, “we’re not in a position to dictate terms. Not right now.”
The fat man points a meaty finger at Rudiger. “He can shoot me if he wants. I’m not going anywhere with him.”
“Bill,” Jonas says. “I need you to be strong now. If you don’t go, we’ll all die. Here. Right now.”
“Better to get crucified?”
The Senator lowers his voice, but Rudiger can still hear. “Bill, at least we have a chance if we go with him. We at least buy some time—who knows what might happen? And we don’t guarantee an early death for an innocent woman.”
Rudiger loses interest in their logic. “Stand up, all of you.”
They do.
Rudiger reaches into a closet and pulls down a backpack, a camera, and a hat. From the backpack he removes a press pass that identifies him as an employee of the Associated Press. He also removes a small wireless transmitter. Slips on the hat and pulls the brim down over his forehead.
Nothing he can do to hide his scar.
He opens the backpack and shows it to Jonas. “You know what that is?”
Jonas looks. Rudiger watches his face lose a little color. “Yeah,” Jonas says. “I think I know what that is.”
Fat man cranes his neck. “What is it?”
“Looks like C4,” Jonas says. “Wired and ready to detonate.”
“Exactly.”
“There’s a lot in there.”
“Enough to take out the walls around us.”
Sidams looks inside the bag just before Rudiger zips it up and puts it on his back.
“What are you planning to do with that?”
“If you do what I say, I’m planning on doing nothing with it.”
“We said we’d go with you.”
“Never a good idea to take a man’s word,” Rudiger says.
“When we leave here, there’ll be a lot of people around us. If you don’t cooperate, it won’t jes be the four of us blown to all hell. Lot of others will die, too.”
Jonas points at the transmitter in Rudiger’s hand. It’s small, about the size of a cell phone. Small black antennae. Two buttons. “That’s the detonator?”
“Like you said. All wired up and ready to go.”
Fat Man looks at Jonas. Rudiger knows what he’s going to say before the words actually come out.