The Lincoln Myth(112)
“I actually recall your father,” Rowan said. “In the 1970s I was working with the church in Europe. He headed the stake in Barcelona, if I recall. A truly spiritual and dedicated man.”
“Thank you for saying that. I always thought so, too.”
Where at first there’d been apprehension in the elder’s eyes at Cassiopeia’s presence, now there was calm. Perhaps from knowing that she was a Saint by birth?
“Cassiopeia is aware of what we’re doing. She also helped fend off the Americans in Salzburg. She and I are discussing a personal future together.”
He hoped he wasn’t being too presumptuous with the revelation.
“I’d like her to be a part of this,” he said.
“Then she shall,” Rowan said. “We’ve come a long way, brother. There were times when I doubted we’d make it this far. But we’re here. So let us all go and claim our prize.”
Salazar faced his two men. “Stay here and keep watch. We can contact each other by phone, if need be.”
The two Danites nodded.
None of what was about to happen was for their eyes.
He turned toward Elder Rowan.
“Please, lead the way.”
ROWAN HAD VISITED HERE BEFORE, ONCE, YEARS AGO. THE prophet who’d served before Charles Snow had held a retreat for the elders. They’d spent three days praying, making decisions that would govern the church for years to come. Since then, he’d heard little about the site, though he knew it was still maintained. The house had been built about fifty years ago, remodeled several times since. Two hundred and forty acres of forest surrounded the building, all owned by the church. As best he could recall a private security firm kept an eye on everything, so at some point he might have to deal with them. Unlikely, though, they would give the second-highest-ranking church official any trouble.
He led the way into the trees, following a defined path that wound through the woods, climbing in elevation. Saints had mainly settled along the western front of the Wasatch Range, where the rivers drained, founding 25 towns against a hundred miles of mountain frontage. Eighty-five percent of Utah’s population still lived within fifteen miles of the Wasatch Range, two million people, on what was simply called the Front. The eastern slopes were gentler, home to ski resorts. Here, on the western edge, the terrain was far more rugged and 5,000 feet higher than in Salt Lake. The idea of Falta Nada had been to fashion something reminiscent of the early days, and through the trees he caught a glimpse of the three-story house. Massive hand-hewn logs had been notched and fitted together, mortar filling the cracks and outlining the aged timber with thick gray lines. Large bay windows dotted the ground floor, more windows above, the house a pleasing mix of wood, stone, and glass. It sat within a hundred yards of a mountain, a zigzag trail winding upward through the trees.
“The house is not Falta Nada,” he told them. “It was built after the refuge was discovered.”
“So where are we headed?” Salazar asked as they kept walking.
He pointed at the mountain. “Inside there.”
SIXTY-THREE
LUKE ROUNDED A CURVE IN THE DIRT ROAD AND SPOTTED TWO cars parked ahead. They’d left the interstate thirty minutes ago and an asphalt road a couple of miles back, following the Navigator’s GPS. Stephanie had sat beside him the whole way and said little. Malone and Snow in the backseat had likewise been quiet for a while. Everyone seemed anxious. He was just ready to get on with it. Ahead he spotted two men standing near vehicles.
“Those are the same two guys from Salzburg,” Malone said. “I doubt they’ll be happy to see me.”
“I can handle them,” Snow said. “Ease close on my side.”
Luke brought the car to a stop, and the prophet lowered his window. Both Danites stood ready, hands beneath their jackets surely on weapons. Luke’s right hand found his own automatic.
“Do you know who I am?” Snow asked.
They nodded.
“Then you will do exactly as I say. Is that clear?”
Both remained silent.
“I am your prophet,” Snow said. “You are sworn to protect me, are you not?”
The men nodded again.
“Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth the horse’s heels so that his rider shall fall backward. You know the significance of those words?”
“From Genesis,” one said. “We are sworn to live by them.”
“Then remove your weapons and drop them to the ground.”
They did as Snow ordered.
“Stand back and wait.”
The window whined closed.
“I shall pray with these poor sinners for forgiveness,” Snow said. “You three have a job to do.”