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  Kelvin sighed.

  Everyone wanted something but no one was satisfied.

  Reuel wanted something—whatever it was.

  Leland, and therefore Binary Systems, wanted their good reputation restored.

  Dario would want to take Kelvin home to the United States for trial—if Yona didn’t have first dibs on a trial in Israel for the murder of one Issachar, whom Kelvin didn’t even know.

  Aspasia was probably still looking for Ulysses. Was he even alive?

  And Kelvin? He wanted a chance with Yona, but it was too late now. If she were to count reputation points, he had zero. Or negative.

  At the end of the day, all Kelvin had was God.

  God—who knew that Kelvin was a sinner and still loved him anyway.

  God—who had not forsaken him in spite of his wayward life.

  Am I even saved?

  Wasn’t it true that if he were saved, he wouldn’t have sinned so much? So terribly? Causing so much grief with his friends and co-workers?

  Kelvin tried to recall a verse he had learned in Sunday School back when he was still attending church. He memorized I John 1:8-9 because everyone else in class did. Little did he know how true it was of his own life.

  If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

  “I am sorry, Lord Jesus, for all my sins. I have no excuse.”

  Kelvin wept.

  With a thick hood over her head, Yona could not tell how far they had traveled or what time of the morning it was. All she could hear was Reuel talking to her at the back of the Rolls Royce.

  From the sometimes bumpy road beneath, Yona guessed they were still in the countryside somewhere. Probably still in the Czech Republic.

  She listened to Reuel drone on, trying to read between the lines, pick apart his sentences. She’d put the reasons together later. For now, her best bet to staying alive was to let Reuel talk.

  Yona filtered out every single reference Reuel quoted from the Bible. She had no confidence in his genuine religiosity, considering what he had done to her and Kelvin. Not only had Reuel broken the law of every nation concerning abduction, he had also sinned against God for lying and misleading Yona into believing that her last job on earth was to assassinate Kelvin.

  Now she wanted to live.

  And bring Reuel and Ulysses to justice.

  She began to realize now that Kelvin was a scapegoat. True, he had worked for the wrong people and gotten paid for it. He was going to get jail time for aiding and abetting terrorists. His reprieve was that he had tried to fix it once he found out who paid his bills.

  He had tried to redeem himself.

  Only God can redeem us.

  Yona tried to pay attention to Reuel, but her eyes were sleepy. Under the black hood, it felt like nighttime. She could fall asleep right now. However, she had to stay awake to listen to what Reuel had to say.

  Something about compensation?

  Her wrists hurt from the tight cable ties. “Can you loosen the plastic just a little? I think the circulation on my wrists is getting cut off.”

  Reuel didn’t answer her request. He continued chattering away about something.

  Yona lost track of the lecture just as the Royce stopped on some gravel road. She could hear the loud gravel crushed by the tires.

  “We’re here,” Reuel said.

  “Where?”

  Once again, he ignored Yona. “He’ll be so pleased to see you.”

  “Who?”

  No answer.

  Her door opened.

  “Get out.” Someone grabbed her arm.

  Slowly, Yona stepped out of the vehicle and followed the lead. There was no way to see through the thick black hood. The fabric was too dense, too tightly-woven.

  Her shoes crunched gravel. Yona suspected they were walking on some driveway or at least a porch where they could park the vehicle.

  “Steps,” Reuel warned her.

  Yona lifted her foot slowly to feel what she was stepping on. She took another step.

  She heard a giant door open. It sounded heavy.

  Her handler led her in. She almost tripped over what felt like a raised threshold.

  She heard the door shut behind her.

  All was quiet. No footfalls. No one spoke.

  Then someone lifted off her hood. Yona blinked a couple of times to adjust to the light.

  When she opened her eyes again, there he was.

  The once-dead.

  Chapter 12

  Yona’s knees went weak. To think that she had prepared to kill Kelvin Gallagher for being instrumental in the death of her mentor—

  Standing right here in front of her in flesh and blood.

  He looked a bit older. His face was covered with a heavy beard and mustache. However, Yona recognized the old scar on his left eyebrow and the row of crowded teeth when he smiled.

  “Issachar?” Yona barely got the name out. “You’re still alive.”

  Who was buried in his grave in his hometown of Haifa back in Israel? He had wanted to face the top of Mount Carmel and all that.

  Suddenly the quick cremation without any autopsy made sense.

  “What about your children?” Yona asked. “What are they going to say if they find out they’re grieving for nothing?”

  “Not for nothing,” Issachar answered. “They have my life insurance. They can go on. They’ll be fine.”

  “And you? Are you fine?” Yona’s voice cracked.

  “I will be when we get our billion dollars.”

  “We?” Yona glanced at Reuel.

  Issachar laughed. “You think Reuel and I had a falling-out? He’s still my best buddy. We’re doing this for our families.”

  Families?

  Yona’s eyes stung.

  Issachar’s sons were about Yona’s age. Would they be happy that their father was still alive so soon after they buried him in their family mausoleum?

  “Like what families?” Yona needed clarification.

  The events of the last two days had been nothing but bizarre.

  “My girlfriend,” Issachar replied. “We’re going to have kids soon.”

  Yona’s eyes widened. She was sure now that his grown children would be devastated, not to mention his wife back in Israel, who was still wearing all black.

  “You don’t believe that an eighty-year-old man can have children?”

  He seemed to have forgotten about his family in Israel.

  “Genetics is not my field,” Yona defended herself.

  “Technology these days…” Issachar waved his hands about.

  Yep. This was Issachar.

  Reuel chuckled.

  Strange twinning, these two. One called himself a Christian and the other an atheist. They had banded together like blood brothers before, but this time it was different. This time they seemed to be caught up in something more sinister.

  “What are you two up to?” Yona asked. “Is Ulysses involved in this?”

  Reuel and Issachar looked at each other.

  “Do we care about Ulysses?” Reuel asked.

  “Only about his computer system,” Issachar replied.

  “What do you mean?” Yona tried to put two and two together.

  “With the help of overpriced computer consultants, such as Kelvin, Ulysses has rebuilt MedusaNet to be world class.” Issachar walked about. “Unfortunately, he’s not sharing the system.”

  “You’re going to make him share.”

  “Not really.” Reuel motioned for Yona’s guards to escort her.

  She limped, slowing down the procession.

  They walked down the hallway to what looked like an operations center. There, on a screen nearest Yona, she saw every room in the last CIA safe house.

  There seemed to be a camera in every room.

  The CIA has been compromised.

  Reuel led Yona past th
e row of monitors to a wall of more screens. He showed her several screens and one of them had a man in it, eating lunch. “Did you know that Ulysses wears a wig?”

  “Is that real time?” Yona asked.

  Reuel nodded.

  “Is this room a replica of that one?”

  “Yes. We will take over MedusaNet from here,” Issachar replied.

  “But you’re not a computer specialist,” Yona said. “And neither is Reuel.”

  “Not to worry. We hire hackers and computer people to do our bidding.”

  Yona could guess what would happen to those hired hands once they were not needed anymore. The same thing that happened to Binary Systems employees—except for Cayson Yang and Kelvin Gallagher, probably.

  “Where is Ulysses now?” She asked.

  “A chateau outside France.”

  “And you don’t have a problem telling me that because?” Yona glanced at the other surrounding screens. They showed various parts of the chateau. Mostly empty rooms.

  Why couldn’t Aspasia find Ulysses when Reuel and Issachar could?

  “You’re going to help us hack into Ulysses’s inner sanctum.” Reuel pointed to another screen.

  The scene looked like an operations center, like this one she was standing in. Yona looked around her, and then back at the screen.

  She leaned against a table to give relief to her ankle. “I’m not a hacker.”

  “Kelvin is.” Issachar pointed to Reuel. “I bet him that Kelvin will do anything for you.”

  “Me?” Yona laughed.

  “You didn’t know, I guess, that Kelvin was interested in you when you were observing some of his colleagues in Project Pericarp.”

  “He invited me to coffee. I said no.”

  “Because you were in a relationship at that time,” Reuel reminded her. “Since your ex-boyfriend is no longer in the picture, you’re single and free.”

  “I’m not for sale.” Yona blurted.

  “You don’t have to do anything, really.” Issachar laughed. “Kelvin would bend over backwards if he thinks any harm would come to you.”

  “Of course, brother.” Reuel shook hands with Issachar. “Anything for the cause.”

  “What cause?” Yona asked.

  "Shall we tell her?” Issachar asked.

  “She won’t live long to tell others, you mean?” Reuel rubbed his chin.

  Yona blinked.

  I’m dreaming. Wake up, wake up.

  Something was wrong with the conversation, but Yona couldn’t pin it down.

  “Our cause is to make MedusaNet available to all organizations,” Issachar said.

  “Let me guess. You don’t mean run-of-the-mill organizations.”

  “Aren’t we altruistic, you might wonder?” Reuel seemed disappointed that Yona wasn’t happier.

  “I trusted the two of you like my own father—you’re like the father I lost.” Yona tried to keep her emotions in check.

  When her parents had died in some roadside bombing that took out the bus they were riding on, Issachar had been kind to Yona, supporting her through university, reminding her that her father would have done the same thing for Issachar’s children.

  Issachar had encouraged Yona to serve her country beyond the mandatory military enlistment. He ended up recruiting her for the Mossad.

  Just like he had recruited Yona’s father when the latter had been in university.

  “You look disappointed,” Issachar said. “I won’t ask you what it’s about, but disappointments are a part of life—”

  Yona’s palm went up to stop him. “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear any more of your advice.”

  Reuel opened his mouth to speak.

  “You too.” Yona pointed her finger at him. “You ply me with Bible verses, making yourself sound like you’re a holy man of God. How does what you’re doing now square with being a Christian?”

  “Fair question.” Issachar curled his lips and nodded.

  “Well, I think I’ve fallen away from the faith.” Reuel shrugged.

  “Or perhaps you never had faith in Jesus Christ in the first place?” Yona asked.

  II Timothy 3:4-5 came to her mind.

  Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.

  “Maybe you’re Judas,” Yona added.

  “That has a nice ring to it.” Issachar laughed.

  “Maybe so.” Reuel looked more serious. “But do we care, really?”

  “God cares.”

  Reuel laughed. “That’s where we part ways, Yona.”

  “You’ve been your own god this entire time, using bits and pieces of the Bible to back you up.” Yona’s voice broke.

  Issachar moved toward the door. “You two can talk all you want, but I’m going to lunch.”

  Reuel ordered his guards to take Yona away.

  “Wait. Aren’t you going to invite me to lunch?” Yona asked. Three can play crazy. “For old times’ sake?”

  “No!” They both said at once.

  Yona wanted them to keep talking, but that would have to wait. If they talked and told her enough, she could bring all that evidence home to Mossad—

  Oh wait.

  I quit.

  She felt alone. So alone.

  Chapter 13

  Kelvin hadn’t seen Yona in the last twenty-four hours, and he was beginning to worry. No, freak out. No, worry. Probably both.

  The last time he had seen her, they were both tied up on some warehouse floor. They took him away and put him in a shipping container. He had fallen asleep for who knew how long.

  They woke him up sometime later, and drove him around with a hood over his head. He fell asleep again in the vehicle.

  And woke up in this dungeon. For the most part, it was a dry basement of some sort, with stone walls all around. The ceiling lights shone on rows of computer workstations, but he was the only one deposited in this room.

  There was a small bathroom—a toilet and sink—to one end. He washed his face in the sink. No paper towel. He let his face air dry because his shirt was too dirty to be used to wipe his face.

  For a man who was probably going to die, he hadn’t lost his sense of hygiene.

  He found a comfortable chair to sit in. They were all alike, but this one didn’t squeak. Also, it was in front of the largest screen in the room.

  He figured if he was dropped off here, they—whoever they were—would want him to work, and he’d take the biggest screen, thank you.

  As he waited, his thoughts kept turning back to Yona. And the more he thought of her, the more anxious he became.

  He closed his eyes to recall some scripture he had studied in his scattered past. A long time ago, Cayson invited him to church at Midtown Chapel. Kelvin went because he had been saved as a teenager, although he hadn’t been serious about it.

  In the several years he had worked for Binary Systems, he attended sporadic church services with Cayson. His faith wasn’t as strong as Cayson’s either.

  And then Mother’s cancer came and ruined his life.

  Well, in retrospect, he had forgotten God. He had gone his own way.

  “Am I a prodigal son, Lord?” Kelvin mumbled. “I want to come back to You, Lord. Please forgive me, and take me back.”

  His words echoed in the silent room.

  “It’s my fault that Yona is in trouble. It will be ugly if they use her against me,” Kelvin whispered to himself.

  He felt a headache coming. It usually came when he felt stressed. “Yes, I’m worried.”

  Philippians 4:6 reminded him not to be anxious, but to pray and trust God.

  Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

  Kelvin liked the old meaning of “careful” because it spoke of being full of care or worries. He felt like he was bursting with worry for Yona.

  And she probably
had no idea he had any thought of her.

  She probably thought all he ever considered was his own selfish self.

  Well, it would have been true four years before, or three, or even perhaps the year before.

  But not now.

  Sitting here in the underground catacombs of an old Czech castle—his tomb, his doom—Kelvin decided he could not think merely of himself anymore. If anything, his prayer was for God to free Yona.

  She didn’t deserve the punishment.

  This was his fault, not hers.

  His own doing.

  He had no one else to blame but himself.

  Before he could continue his confession to God, the door opened to a rumble of noises and voices.

  All three prisoners had hoods over their heads. Surrounding them were the same armed men who had ushered Kelvin into this room hours before.

  “Please! Please!” A woman’s voice from under one of those black hoods.

  It didn’t sound like Yona’s, but it was familiar to Kelvin. She sounded like…

  One of the men lifted the hood off her.

  “Danika?” Kelvin couldn’t believe his eyes. “Danika Svoboda?”

  “Kelvin!” Danika rushed forward, but the men held her back. “I thought you were dead!”

  “I thought you were dead too.” Kelvin waited for the other hoods to come off.

  And he would’ve fallen off the chair had he still been sitting.

  Vivek Rao in flesh and blood.

  Vivek, who was supposed to be dead in the USA over a year prior.

  Were these clones? The thought ran through Kelvin’s mind, though he knew they could not be true—not in this day and age.

  Vivek yelled when he saw Kelvin and started charging at him, even though his wrists were tied up. “You! This is all your fault!”

  The men held him back. Muttered to one another—something about needing to babysit the hackers.

  “I’m sorry,” Kelvin said. Whatever it was, he was sure Vivek was right. “It’s my fault.”

  He wondered how Vivek and Danika were still alive, considering the DNA results…

  Ah, the DNA results could have been fabricated by interfering with the computers they were stored in.

  Who’d do that though?