Finally he turned to face her. A thick gray eyebrow went up. “You honestly expect me to believe that? Where is your brother?”
“Securing the cargo.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you bring that man and woman with you?”
Cassandra went over to look at the satellite screens in front of him. “I might need the woman, we’ll see. It’s nothing for you to worry about, Grandfather. Where is the storm?”
Jason smiled, showing yellow teeth from the gallons of that vile coffee he drank, and she felt revulsion. She didn’t want to believe she was of his blood, that her mother was his child. He looked so ordinary, so shrunken, with his stark white hair in tufts on his head, his thick glasses magnifying his eyes, and that mean slash of a mouth. His meager shoulders were rounded from decades in front of his computers. She looked at the liver spots on his hands and arms and quickly looked away. It was past time for him to die. Long past time.
No, he wasn’t a god. She imagined he clung so desperately to life because he knew the Ark would make him immortal, make him a god. Not for you, old man, not for you.
He pointed toward one of the screens behind him, where the storm had grown to an alarming size. “Did you truly think Ajax could intensify the storm without my noticing?”
“Of course not, Grandfather. You see everything, don’t you?”
Jason felt sadness looking at her beautiful face, Helen’s face. But not Helen’s voice. He heard the slick sneer, the not-completely-hidden threat in Cassandra’s voice. Then he felt more—soul-deep fury. “Surely your brother knows he cannot move the storm into the position he wants. Only I can do that.”
Cassandra fought for control. “You must give Ajax the rest of the formula, Grandfather. We must destroy Washington, D.C. Otherwise all we have built, all we have accomplished, it will vanish in the blink of an eye, and Ajax and I will be taken or killed. So rather than New Orleans again, we destroy their very seat of power. Please, Grandfather, the American FBI is close, too close.”
He said abruptly, “Show me the cherubim’s wing.”
He was ready to negotiate. Excellent.
“I will not only show it to you, I will give it to you. But first, you will give me the combination to the vault so we can have the formula.”
Jason studied his granddaughter’s face. She stood perfectly still, the box holding the cherubim’s wing under her arm. So like Helen, yet nothing like her at all. Helen’s innate goodness hadn’t bred into her children. The girl thought to bribe him. It was amusing if it hadn’t been so sad. He said quietly, “Do you remember you once asked me if I was the Wizard of Oz?”
She leaned close, studied his seamed face. “That was long before I realized what and who was behind the curtain, before I saw what you were and what you’d become—a pathetic gutless old man.”
He scooted his chair away from her, studied her as she’d studied him. “A pity you only see me now as an obstacle and not as El Creador, as Burnley says some of the Cubans call me. No, Cassandra, I will not give you the directionality procedure. I would fear for the world’s survival if I did. Why can’t you realize I am only trying to do the right thing? To help find the Ark, to keep the Genesis Group financially healthy.” He saw she wasn’t even listening to him. He said abruptly, “You say the FBI is close behind you. Tell me what you did.”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “Ajax and I did only what was needful.”
She wasn’t going to tell him, still he tried. “You and Ajax could remain here, safe from the FBI. And together, we can continue to run the Genesis Group.”
“I cannot find the Ark if I’m hiding out here.”
He wanted to tell her the Ark wasn’t for her, but he said, “I will not weaken the United States by destroying their capital, all because you and your brother haven’t been wise in your choices.
“You know the FBI or any other country’s law enforcement can’t find you and your brother here. Say you will stay with me, and be safe, learn what you must learn to honor your mother’s memory.”
He stared at her, seeing yet again her hatred for him, her contempt, and it chilled him. Like her damnable excuse for a father, she and her brother were unstable, a kind word for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to think crazy, it was too final, too scary, it meant the end of everything. Of course, he’d known it for a long time, even accepted it, but to see her now, realizing what she was, seeing this bone-deep hatred of him, in the open for the first time, it nearly broke him. And he remembered Helen’s words that he would do everything he could to help them until there was nothing more he could do, and she understood, then she’d bowed her head.
Still, he was shocked when she screamed at him, “Don’t you speak to me about honoring my moth
er’s memory! Everything I do is for my mother. Enough, you profane old man. Open the vault or I will crack the cherubim’s wing over your skull and watch your genius brains fly all over your computers. Give me the combination!”
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Jason knew he had to keep calm, and use reason that would make her understand even though he knew it wouldn’t work. “Cassandra, what do you think you would gain if you destroyed Washington? You think they wouldn’t come after you, that you would be safe?”
“Of course. The storm will be so massive it will take the U.S. years to recover. As for law enforcement, the FBI, we will be far down on their list. Think of all the looting, the anarchy, the chaos. We will be nothing to them.” And she snapped her fingers.
“Now, I want the formula. It’s time for Ajax to direct the storm to Washington.”
“No.”
“You’re refusing to give us the rest of the formula?”