Chapter 4
Desperation and worry settled over Frieda as soon as both Dominick and Haatim got on their flights out of Switzerland. It worried her that they might get stopped and their passports confiscated, but luckily, they had made it through all right.
She had contingency plans and passports for all of them that the Church didn’t know about, but she remained grateful that she didn’t have to go that route yet. With any luck, Paladina would manage to hold up his promise and keep them safe, but she didn’t have any huge expectations.
It felt like a rope hanging around her neck. Helplessness crept into Frieda, and she could see the writing on the wall: they were all in trouble as soon as the Catholic Church decided they’d outlived their usefulness.
Seated in the small chapel in the hospital in Switzerland, she bided her time and tried not to think about Jun Lee and his condition. She hadn’t had time to shower or change clothes and felt grimy and disgusting. Situated in one of the pews, hands folded in front of her, she attempted to think about nothing.
Of course, it didn’t work.
Haatim had gotten on a flight to the Vatican, where he would be safe. Father Paladina had explained that the Church wasn’t looking for him and that they had no reason to. Haatim had no part in this, and no fault lay with him. As long as she distanced herself from him, he would remain safe. However, she couldn’t tell him that. He could behave quite stubbornly.
Dominick, on the other hand …
Frieda hated to lie to him. A good man, he didn’t deserve it, but some roads she felt unwilling to go down. Not yet. Instead, she would keep him occupied and out of the way. Right now, he made his way to protect a woman that she loathed.
Everything had crumbled around her, and she’d never felt so alone. She was truly on her own, and had been ever since Arthur had fallen and gotten shoved into that prison.
How had things gone so wrong so quickly? Utterly overcome with fear and worry, Frieda dreaded the future in ways she had never even imagined.
She missed Arthur. Desperately. He always stayed so calm and collected in the face of danger and strife. He would know how to handle this situation. At the very least, he would tell her not to worry and that things would work out all right in the way that only he could.
It would have been a lie, though. For certain, everything most certainly would not work out all right. But, right now, she could use a little baseless encouragement.
***
Things had turned desperate so fast, and Frieda had gotten completely blindsided by all of it. She had expected something to happen—had for years—but not on this scale. The Council had weakened, and carefully-wrought bonds had frayed at the edges. What caught her most off-guard, though, was just how deep the betrayal went.
She had known Aram as her personal enemy but had never imagined him capable of something as horrendous as this. She’d assumed he would continue to work against her and try to have her ousted from the Council. Instead, he had sold out the Council to their mortal enemy and single-handedly brought the multi-generational Organization to its knees.
So many dead. Jun remained alive, but only just, and the next few days would prove critical. Not a young man anymore, the doctors had promised he would need multiple surgeries to survive this. To lose him would feel akin to losing her real father, and she dreaded the moment a doctor told her that Jun had passed on.
Despite everything that had happened, and the helplessness she felt, she couldn’t afford to stop and grieve. Nor could she take the time to catch her breath and absorb her new reality. At such a critical moment, she couldn’t rest. Things had become as desperate as they had ever been, and she didn’t know what might happen next.
What she did know was that if they wanted to stop Nida and keep her from releasing Surgat out into the world, they would need to act fast and get everything locked down.
Frieda had called in the favor that Father Niccolo Paladina owed her. Or, more specifically, the favor he owed Arthur. She felt certain it would prove the last time they would speak in a long time and doubted he would manage to buy her much time, even after she held up her end of the bargain and turned Aram over to the Church.
Father Paladina remained one of the last friends she had that she could call upon for help, and even then, he had limitations in what he could offer. He had promised, however, to keep Haatim out of it, and that felt good enough for her.
***
Her sending Dominick to Pennsylvania would be a shot in the dark. On the off-chance that Nida went after Jill Reinfer, they might head her off and stop her completely.
That, of course, assumed that Jill had become the next target. For all Frieda knew, Nida might have gotten to the woman already. Or, maybe Nida knew about another living relative that would serve as a replacement for Jill; in which case, she’d wasted one of her most valuable assets protecting a woman who didn’t want her help.
It also assumed, of course, that if Nida did go after Jill in her Pennsylvania home, that Dominick would manage to stop her. Frieda had a lot of faith in Dominick, and he made for one of her most loyal allies and Hunters, but she had seen Nida up close and at her best. In total honesty with herself …
Dominick didn’t stand a chance.
At times like this, she would turn to her assistant Martha to bounce ideas from. Martha had remained a loyal friend and ally, helping her plan and think through all of the problems that she faced on a daily basis. At the thought that her assistant probably hadn’t survived the attack, an aching pain settled in her heart.
Frieda hadn’t found Martha’s body at the Council building, but she hadn’t had time to do a more thorough search. When things quieted down enough to begin recovering the bodies, she would make sure that Martha received the special burial she deserved.
Right now, though, she simply had no time.
Yet another person for whom she didn’t have the opportunity to cry. Once all of this had finished, she would need to honor and pray for all of the friends that she’d lost. She would need to grieve and bury the dead.
That, of course, depended on her not becoming one of them.
***
Frieda waited in the chapel as long as she could before returning to the room where Jun lay recovering. They didn’t allow her in right away, though. Instead, they directed her to the lobby and told her they would contact her momentarily.
Doctors flitted in and out of Jun’s room but wouldn’t let her inside. The lobby stood mostly empty: a pair of nurses sat at a desk, an old television played soap operas that she didn’t recognize, and a coffee machine with burnt coffee rested in the corner.
Apart from her, a garbed priest who watched her with careful eyes made for the only other person in the lobby. He wore loose-fitting robes and seemed calm but dangerous. He waited just like she did. Father Paladina had assured her that they wouldn’t come here for her … not if she gave him what he needed.
Aram, the traitor.
She paced back and forth, waiting for news of Jun’s condition. Frieda prayed for the best and feared the worst. No one came out to talk to her, and she didn’t know if that meant a good thing or bad.
Frieda wanted to speak with the doctors to find out what they expected in Jun’s recovery and how optimistic they felt about his chances. She wanted to find out because she hated not knowing and didn’t have a lot of time before she had to get on a flight to meet Dominick out in Pennsylvania.
Also, she wanted to speak with Aram because this would, likely, offer the last chance she ever had. Or, rather, she felt that she needed to speak with him to try and come to terms with what had happened over the last few months before handing him over to the Catholic Church for questioning.
It would have satisfied her to go through her entire life without seeing the man again, but if there remained even a slight chance that he might have information that could prove beneficial to her, then she had to at least check. Right now, she felt willing to grasp any straw that might keep them alive.
The priest waited calmly in the corner, watching her in an unsettling way that made her skin crawl. After another hour, she decided she had waited long enough and needed answers. Needed them now. Determined, she went down the hall to Jun’s room.
She found the door closed, though could see Jun through the window. He lay alone in the room, sleeping and hooked up to a plethora of medical monitoring equipment. He seemed small and frail in the bed and gown—a weak old man wholly unlike the powerful figure she’d come to know and respect through the years.
She prayed he would make it.
For a moment, she considered just barging in. No one stood watching the door, and the hallways lay empty. This late at night, nearly midnight, most of the other rooms in this wing remained vacant. She decided not to, however, as it worried her that it would draw undue attention or possibly harm his chances of survival. Instead, she went looking for someone who could offer her information.
It took a little searching before she found a nurses’ station. A tired-looking young woman sat there, typing slowly into a computer and reading from a clipboard. She used two fingers, which irked Frieda.
“Excuse me?” Frieda cleared her throat to get the woman’s attention.
The woman looked up at her and offered a weary smile. Her eyes, though, made it clear that she didn’t appreciate the interruption. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“I hoped to ask about the patient in room three-oh-four. Jun Lee. Has there been any status change since his arrival this morning?”
The woman hesitated. “I’m sorry, are you family?”
“No,” Frieda said. “But if you look up his account, you’ll find me on his listed exceptions list.”
The woman typed into the computer, and Frieda passed her an identity card. It didn’t use her real name, or any actual information about her, but it did give her full access to Jun Lee and all the other Council members, as well as her Hunters, in case of emergencies like this. It was government issued.
The woman checked over the information on the file and then the card. Finally, she nodded before handing back the ID.
“He remains in stable condition. He had surgery this morning, but the doctor said he couldn’t remove all the damaged tissue. Mr. Lee is scheduled to go back into surgery in a few hours for another minor fix. They found a lot of internal damage and bleeding, but the doctor seems optimistic that he’ll make an almost full recovery.”
Frieda nodded, breathing an internal sigh of relief. Thank God something had, finally, gone right on this terrible day. Though she had no way of telling how Jun’s body would react to the surgery, at least he’d cleared the first major hurdle. Frieda could breathe again, and it felt like a humungous weight had lifted off her chest.
“Do you have any idea when he might be well enough to have visitors?”
“Definitely not today.”
“I didn’t expect to see him so soon. I just wondered when I should come back. Maybe by tomorrow?”
She didn’t like the idea of postponing her flight out of the country, but the encouragement that Jun might survive made her want to see him alive and well that much more. Dominick would need her help, but she might manage to spare an extra day or two to make sure her old friend recovered well.
“Most likely the day after that, provided everything goes well with this next surgery. It will be worth calling ahead, though, so you don’t end up wasting a trip down here for nothing.”
Frieda nodded. “Thank you.”
“Will that be all?”
Frieda hesitated, glancing over at the corner of the room where the robed priest sat. He watched her, a blank expression on his face, and Frieda knew what he wanted. It made her feel sick to her stomach, but it was best not to delay.
“Actually,” Frieda said. “I’d hoped to check on the status of another patient. They brought him in with a broken leg. Last name is Malhotra. First name, Aram.”
The woman typed into the computer, scanning through the records. She pressed her finger to the screen, trailing it across the list of names.
“I don’t have anyone here by that name.”
The paperwork shouldn’t have included an alias for him. It would have been preferred, but they hadn’t had time to put something like that together.
She frowned. “Can you check again?”
The woman gave her a sour look but did return to the keyboard and type some more. After a moment, the nurse glanced up at her. “He came in here earlier but checked out a while ago.”
“What?” Frieda asked, surprised. “He wasn’t supposed to be allowed to check himself out.”
The woman typed some more, frowning. “Ah. I see that note in his file, but it looks like his nurse didn’t notice and discharged him.”
“How the hell does that happen?” A burst of anger and panic hit Frieda. “Do you even bother to check the records when you discharge people?”
The woman frowned deeper. “Ma’am, I am sorry for the inconvenience this has caused you. I know it’s frustrating, but I didn’t check him out. We are quite busy.”
Frieda looked around at the empty lobby and thought about the fact that she hadn’t seen more than a few patients all day. However, the prudent thing to do would be not to bring that up.
“So, he’s gone?”
“I’m sorry, but it looks that way. All of his discharge paperwork has been filed, and him released. He checked out about an hour ago.”
“Damn it,” Frieda said.
“Is that all you need?”
This time, Frieda didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and rushed away from the station. In the corner of the room, the priest stood and shadowed her, following her toward the exit.
Frieda had an idea of where Aram might go. She just hoped she’d guessed right.
***
Luckily, Aram didn’t go far. Frieda went to the hotel where his wife had stayed these past few weeks while in Switzerland. Would Aram try and run? If so, he might well try to collect his spouse before fleeing.
When she arrived at the hotel in the center of the city, however, she saw Aram sitting on a stool at the restaurant bar, sipping a drink. The long bar hosted only a handful of people. Soft music played in the background, classical and upbeat, and the opposite of how Frieda felt.
Aram had a giant cast on his leg that went up all the way to his thigh, and two crutches leaned next to him. Frieda walked toward him, and then a soft voice came from behind.
“If you don’t do it, I will.”
She turned and saw the bald head of the priest walking away from her. He had followed her from the church, though she hadn’t known he’d gotten so close to her. He moved so silently it terrified her.
With a steadying breath, she faced back toward Aram. Whatever had happened to him back at the Council must have proven painful. With the cast on, he sat awkwardly on the stool, half hanging off the edge. He looked distant, thoughts far away, and barely noticed when Frieda sat down at the bar next to him.
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Want a drink?” he asked.
“I thought you didn’t imbibe alcohol?”
“Just started.” He took a sip. “Thought I’d give it a try.”
The bartender glanced over at her, but she waved him off. “Terrible time to start.”
“Great time.” He shook his head. “What the hell else do I have?”
Frieda didn’t have a good answer.
“I came here to check on my wife. I wanted to make sure she was okay and not too freaked out by everything going on. Whatever drugs Nida gave her, though, she’s still unconscious.”
“Does she know what happened?”
He shook his head again. “No. She’ll feel confused and disoriented when she wakes but won’t remember anything.”
“Probably for the best.”
He took another sip and didn’t reply.
“You came here just to check on her?”
“I don’t plan to run.” He stared down at his drink. “If that’s what you think. Where the hell would I go?”
“You know what happens next.”
“Yeah. You can do whatever you want to me. I won’t fight back. Just one last time, I wanted to see my wife.”
“Do you want to wait until she wakes?”
Aram thought about it, and then shook his head. “Better this way. I’d rather leave her wondering than tell her the truth.”
He turned to Frieda, and on his face, she saw the look of a thoroughly defeated man.
“After what I’ve done, I couldn’t possibly ask forgiveness.”
“What you did …?” Frieda trailed off. Unable even to think of the words to justify how furious and betrayed she felt.
Part of her wanted to grab a bottle, smash it on the counter, and then use it to stab Aram until he stopped moving. She should pay him back for everything he’d done and all the people he’d gotten killed.
“I know,” he said. “I thought … I thought I had it all under control. That I’d stayed in charge and things happened because of me. I didn’t know they—”
“Used you?” Frieda raised her brows.
Aram nodded and stared down at the bar. “I had no clue that I was just a pawn in their game until Nida showed up. I did this. I destroyed everything we built for my selfish reasons. I can’t hide from that. And now my daughter is dead, my son hates me, and I can no longer face my wife as the man she believes me to be.”
“If you expect sympathy, you won’t find any here.”
“I don’t,” he said. “All our friends have died except for you, me, and Jun, and it’s my fault.”
“I should kill you.”
Frieda clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to decide her next course of action. She stared at Aram, knowing that the proper punishment for what he had done, as dictated by both the decrees of the Council and the way she felt right now, could only be death.
That felt wrong, though. There seemed something inherently perverse about punishing a man for these crimes by killing him. Hadn’t enough people died already?
Honestly, she didn’t know. Never in her entire life had she felt so confused and conflicted as she did at this moment. Her entire world had fallen and now showed to be a sham. Everything she had worked for and believed in had gone, and all that remained …
Emptiness.
“I won’t do it.” Frieda shook her head. “Honestly, part of me thinks I should thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“I’ve waited for this day to come for a long time. I’ve expected it and felt terrified of it for long enough. At least now, I don’t have that shadow looming over me.”
“What?” Aram glanced up and coughed.
Frieda ignored his reaction. “She’s as prepared as she’ll ever be. After what happened in Raven’s Peak, I had my doubts, but now we’ve simply run out of time. Arthur believed this day would come.”
“What are you talking about?”
Frieda fell silent. Finally, she turned to Aram, “You had it right. You always had it right about her. The best thing we could have done was kill her on the day we found her. I knew how bad things could get, and still, I let Arthur talk me into all of this. Now, we’re committed.”
Aram stared at her, a confused expression on his face. “Kill who?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stood and bundled back up in her coat. “For what it’s worth, Aram. I’m sorry. I hope they end it quickly.”
“End what quick?”
Again, she didn’t reply.
Realization dawned on his face. “I thought you wouldn’t kill me?”
“I won’t. The Church will, though. They’ll hunt us all down and kill us for what you did. You’re only the first.”
While she spoke, the garbed priest walked out of the hotel lobby and into the bar area. He saw Aram and looked at her in question. Frieda nodded and walked at a slow pace toward the exit.
“If it’s any consolation,” she said, turning back around to face Aram one last time. “Your death bought us space.”
Aram turned and spotted the priest. His eyes widened. Clumsily, he reached over and grabbed Frieda by the wrist.
“No. Please! I’ll do anything. Don’t turn me over to them.”
She eyed him for a second, feeling just an iota of pity. Finally, she shook her arm loose. “Goodbye, Aram. I hope you can find peace in your next life.”
Then, she left the bar. A week. Father Paladina had promised to get her seven days for turning over Aram to the Church. Not much time.
Next, they would come after her.
