Gan was never allowed to lose consciousness for long, and once she revived, Liu would cut her again. Digits littered the floor amid pools of blood, vomit, and waste. The skill with which he amputated her breasts with a balisong knife bespoke experience unimaginable. Gan screamed in agony as she was dismembered, but between her wails she locked eyes with her beloved husband and urged Ke to remain strong, to keep their faith.
Ke never imagined he would pray for his wife's death, but when it finally came, he wept tears of joy. Her suffering was over. On the journey to heaven, he would not be far behind.
Liu leaned against the wall as the police doctor vainly tried to revive Gan, but finally the doctor shook his head and retreated from the
interrogation room. Ke's father and six-year-old daughter wept in the corner of the room, the old man trying to console the horrified child, unwilling witnesses to the barbarity inflicted upon the couple.
“One less whore,” Liu sneered.
The butchered remains of Gan Yueying barely looked human. Liu moved close to the old man and his granddaughter like a stalking animal approaching prey. He towered over Ke Tai-De, showing nothing but contempt for the old man and his family of cultists.
“It's not too late to save your son,” Liu said.
“He, and my family, are already saved,” Ke Tai-De replied stoically. “Nothing you do changes that.”
“We'll see, old man,” Liu replied.
Liu slowly walked around the table to where Ke Wen-An hung from a metal pipe in the ceiling. With each feeble breath, the physician swung lightly, and the cable around his wrists dug in a little deeper.
“So, doctor, as a
Catholic
,” Liu hissed the word, “I'm certain the irony of your situation isn't lost on you. Much of what you are experiencing, medically speaking, is what that criminal you worship felt after the Romans nailed him to a tree. Did you know that it normally took days for a crucified man to die? The Romans often broke the prisoner's legs to hasten death by suffocation or shock-induced heart attack. Do you think, doctor, that such an injury would have a similar effect on you?”
Liu pulled out his pistol and gripped it by the barrel. Crouching down, he grabbed one of Ke's ankles, straightened the leg, and swung the pistol like a hammer onto the kneecap. The triangular bone cracked, and an electric jolt of pain rushed through Ke's nervous system. Pleased with the effect, Liu swung again and shattered the other knee. Ke's head slumped, and Liu sprang to his feet.
“Don't pass out on me now, doctor.”
Ke's eyes fluttered, his mind hovering on the border of consciousness.
“Tell me what you know of Yin, and I will end your pain.”
Ke shook his head, conscious enough to reject the worthless offer.
Liu moved to Ke, his mouth near the dying man's ear. “If you don't speak, your daughter will be next.”
With every last bit of strength that remained, Ke raised his head and groaned, “Long live Jesus Christ.”
Infuriated, Liu drove the barrel of his pistol under Ke's chin and squeezed the trigger. The nine-millimeter round ripped through Ke's head, erupting from the top in a violent spray of blood, bone, and gore. Ke's head drooped forward, much of the crown missing.
As the echo of the gunshot died down, someone knocked at the door.
“What?” Liu shouted angrily.
A uniformed police officer opened the door. Peng stood in the corridor behind him with several more officers.
“Is everything all right?” the officer asked.
“Everything is
fine
,” Liu snapped grimly.
Liu holstered his pistol and wiped a speck of gray matter from his cheek, flicking it onto the floor. Peng peered into the interrogation room and saw the bodies.
“How long has he been at it?” Peng asked the officer softly.
“Twelve hours. Since they were first brought in.”
If Liu heard Peng's question, he ignored it. Instead, he pushed Gan's mutilated remains off the table and onto the floor at the feet of her daughter and father-in-law. Peng leaned into the interrogation room and was immediately struck by both the horror and the witch's brew of stench that lingered inside.
“I have some information,” Peng said, trying to stifle the rising contents of his stomach. “Perhaps this would be a good time for a break.”
Breathing heavily, Liu nodded. “Think about what I want to know, old man. When I come back, your granddaughter is next.”
Liu exited, leaving Ke Tai-De and his granddaughter alone with the mauled, desecrated bodies of their loved ones.
One of the officers handed Liu a small towel, which he used to wipe blood, sweat, and bits of tissue from his face and hands.
“Report,” Liu commanded.
“The northern border is secure, and there has been no sign of any attempt to cross it. Troops are in position at critical points, and aerial reconnaissance is ongoing. I've received word from our people in
Ulaanbaatar confirming that Kilkenny and another American entered Mongolia on a flight from Germany. Kilkenny was traveling with false papers, and we assume the same of his companion.”
“What about the spy?”
“Twelve days ago, Roxanne Tao flew to Shanghai from the United States and entered the country with a forged tourist visa. From there, she traveled to Beijing. She was not seen again until the twenty-eighth at the prison.”
“Walked right through the front door,” Liu spat angrily.
“Her papers were quite good, and she has altered her appearance.”
“They still
missed
her.”
Liu looked haggard and agitated, the skin around his eyes dark and swollen.
“Have you gotten any rest since I've been gone?” Peng asked.
“I'll rest after Yin and these foreign terrorists are dead.”
“Have you learned anything from your interrogations?” Peng asked.
“Not much,” Liu admitted, “but everything points to the old manâhe's an important figure in the illegal church in Chifeng. We know there was local support for the raid, so he must have been involved. Breaking him is the key to unraveling this conspiracy.”
“And the rest of the family?”
“All are members of the foreign cult, which is crime enough. I'm using them to break the old man down.”
“But they are dead, and he has told you nothing.”
“There's still the granddaughter. Now that he knows how far I will go, I'm certain he will talk to save her.”
“I am not so sure. The history of this religion is filled with revered martyrs, starting with the one they believe was the son of their god.”
“Lunatics!” Liu spat. “He
will
tell me what I want to know.”
“Assuming that he knows anything himself.”
“He knows.” Liu paused briefly. “Anything else?”
“Sweeps continue in the outlying areas around Chifeng, and troops are questioning herdsmen. We have found no sign of the raiding party,” Peng said.
“All the more reason for me to continue with the old man.”
“You are exhausted. Would it not be wise to rest and let another interrogator continue? Perhaps a change of tactic to disorient the man.”
Liu waved his hand dismissively. “Anything else?”
“No,” Peng replied.
“Perhaps you would like to assist me with the child?” Liu said, almost taunting the younger man.
Peng felt his stomach rising once again at the thought of torturing a young child. “I think it best that I continue following other avenues of our investigation.”
“Very well. Report back in a few hours.”
Peng bowed and departed. As he walked away, he wondered what hold the Catholic religion had on the Ke family. What was it about their faith that allowed them to die for a man they could not have known, to sacrifice themselves as a parent would to protect a child? At his sides, Peng felt his hands trembling.
41
INNER MONGOLIA
Yin awoke from a restless sleep. It was midday, and he lay beneath the wing of the BAT that had carried him more than seven hundred miles west from Chifeng. They had landed before dawn beside an escarpment that promised to cast a deep shadow over their hiding place. Once on the ground, the soldiers had quickly draped camouflage netting over the three aircraft, concealing them from all but the most intense scrutiny. Kilkenny and the pilots slept nearby, exhausted by one long flight and restoring themselves for another. The other soldiers, some unseen yet he knew they were there, protected the hidden camp from discovery. Tao saw Yin sitting up and approached him.
“Good afternoon,” Tao said softly. “Did you sleep well?”
“My sleep was troubled.”
“That's not surprising. You've been through quite an ordeal.”
“Perhaps that's it,” Yin said.
Tao noticed Yin's right hand was rubbing a spot near the center of his chest.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
“My heart is heavy. I feel something is wrong.”
“Don't move,” Tao said sternly. “I'll get some help.”
Tao returned a moment later with Jing, the team's medic, and Kilkenny.
“Can you describe how you're feeling?” Jing asked as he opened his med kit.
“A heaviness here,” Yin replied, indicating his chest.
“Do you have pain or numbness anywhere?”
“No.”
“Any dizziness?” Jing asked.
“No.”
“I need to examine you, sir. Roxanne, help me undo the top of his suit.”
Jing and Tao carefully peeled down the upper half of Yin's SEALSKIN suit to reveal a lean torso of skin and bones. Ke Li's cross hung from a cord around Yin's neck, the symbol of his faith close to his heart.
“That will need to come off too,” Jing said, indicating the cross.
Yin nodded and gently lifted the cord over his head. He kissed the hand-carved cross reverently.
“Please, hold this for me,” Yin said, handing the cross to Kilkenny.
Kilkenny took Yin's cross and stepped back, out of the way. Jing checked Yin's heart rate and blood pressure, listened to his lungs, then connected the bishop to a small electronic monitor.
“You can pull your top back up if you're cold,” Jing told Yin, “but try not to loosen the contacts on your chest. I want this to run for a while. It should give us some idea of how you're doing.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Yin replied.
As Tao helped Yin with his clothing, Kilkenny motioned Jing over to talk.
“What do you think?” Kilkenny asked.
“Everything seems okay. He's got a strong heart and no problem with his lungs.”
“So he's not having a heart attack?”
“Not that I can tell. Other than the heaviness in his chest, he has none of the classic signs. I'll know more after we've run the monitor a while, but right now, I'm leaning more toward stress. Just look at everything he's been through in the past twenty-four hours.”
“Try the past thirty years. Thanks, Chuck. Let me know when you're done with him.”
As Jing returned to his patient, Gates joined Kilkenny.
“He okay?”
“We'll know more in a bit,” Kilkenny replied, “but Chuck's thinking at the moment is that it's stress.”
“We all got a touch of that.”
“I just hope in his case it's not enough to kill him. After all that man has been through, I'd hate to think he died because we broke him out of jail.”
Â
Â
AFTER JING COMPLETED his examination, Kilkenny rejoined the bishop. Yin was fully dressed and eating a meal of light rations.
“I've brought you your cross,” Kilkenny said.
“Thank you.”
In donning his pectoral cross, Yin repeated the simple ritual of reverence.
“How are you feeling, Your Excellency?” Kilkenny inquired.
“Better. And how are you feeling?”
“I'm fine,” Kilkenny replied, surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”
“The burden you carry is heavy. Such weight can wear upon a man.”
“I've heard it often said that the Lord doesn't give us burdens greater than what we can carry.”
“An interesting thought. Do you believe it is true?”
“I don't know, but if it is, there are times I think He has greatly overestimated me.”
“Is this one of those times?” Yin asked.
Kilkenny considered the question for a moment and wondered if Yin's symptoms might be the result of fear of being recaptured.
“I'll get you out of China,” Kilkenny vowed.
Han approached Kilkenny and Yin; the two other pilots sat in the front of BAT-2.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Han said, “but it's time for our pre-flight meeting.”
“If you'll excuse me, Your Excellency.”
Yin bowed and Kilkenny departed with Han. The bishop carefully watched the man who engineered his rescue, and he contemplated the immense burden on Kilkenny's shoulders.
42
VATICAN CITY
“Don't you make a fine-looking priest,” Donoher declared, finding some amusement in Grin's obvious discomfort.
It was near dawn, and Grin stood in the foyer of the Vatican Mosaic Studio dressed in a black cassock with a traditional Roman collar encircling his neck. The long sleeves covered his whimsical tattoo, and only the tips of his leopard-print Chuck Taylor canvas basketball sneakers peeked out beneath the cassock's hem.
“I'm sure I do, but either the Church's manpower shortage is worse than reported, or you really need to upgrade your background-check procedures.”