Salome's Charger by Glen Robinson

Author:Glen Robinson [Robinson, Glen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The discovery of the platter that held the head of John the Baptist triggers a world crisis.
Publisher: Farenorth Press
Published: 2015-08-29T22:00:00+00:00

Three hours later, he was still at his desk, by now busily going through his notes on Madelyn Simms and the charger. He’d exhausted his research on Brassard; to be honest there wasn’t much to begin with. And as usual, his hands were on fire, throbbing relentlessly. And so he was back wondering what had happened to the charger, and more importantly, where Maddie was.

He paused to look around himself and realized that he was the only person still working in the newsroom. In the basement below him, he felt the rumble of tomorrow morning’s paper rolling through the web press. Now that he stopped typing, it was the only sound he heard. He looked outside in the dark. The thunderstorms had passed eastward and into Louisiana, leaving a clear, moonlit night outside. It was time.

He folded up his laptop, gathered his briefcase and stood up. He had made the decision to do things this way, and he was committed to it. It was his idea, so as usual, he would succeed or fail on his own merit.

But then he felt that presence looking over his shoulder again.

I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised: so I shall be saved from mine enemies.

And he felt a little more confident. Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him, came into his mind.

He walked down the stairs, waving at the night watchman who sat near the doors. He flashed his keycard and pushed through the glass doors to the outside steps. He paused and took a deep breath and looked around him. His yellow Civic was the solitary vehicle in the last row of the parking lot, a reminder of how alone he felt these days. He had wrapped all his joy and future around someone who was gone, and now he felt at a loss.

He took a deep breath and walked across the empty lot, his loafers tapping out a rhythm on the black pavement. Three feet from the door of his car, a dark shape stepped out of the bushes behind his car and pointed a pistol at him.

“Mr. Huddleston, at last,” Brassard said. “I was beginning to think you planned on working all night.”

Ezra struggled to muster a small smile and some false bravado. “I told you I worked late. Good of you to wait for me.”

Brassard sighed. “It will be a pity to kill you. Despite your insults, I thought you were a pretty good reporter. Any last words?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said. “Drop your gun and put your hands up.”

Brassard’s eyebrows went up in surprise, then he looked down to watch a red laser spot settle onto his chest. He looked back at Ezra, nodded, then dropped his gun.

“Very smart,” Brassard said. “You became the pragmatist and realized that you couldn’t beat me on your own. So you called for help.”

“What can I say?” Ezra said, the stress falling off his shoulders like a heavy backpack. “It pays to have friends in the police department.

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