Chapter 227

Louis’s grip tightened on the phone. “Dead? How?”

“Cyanide poisoning,” Robin said, his voice flat. “We found it in his coffee. An old trick. But an effective one. My men are investigating. They will send me the report soon.”

“Son of a bitch,” Louis said, his voice low. “We are going there. Meet me at the facility.”

“On my way,” Robin said, hanging up.

Louis looked at the women. “Finch is dead.”

Willa’s eyes narrowed. “That’s convenient.”

“Too convenient,” Savannah said. “Someone is cleaning up their tracks.”

“Or sending a message,” Angelique said, her expression grim.

Louis cursed again under his breath. He stood up and walked toward the cockpit. He knocked on the door. A pilot opened it.

“Yes, Mr. Collins?”

“Change of plan. We’re going to Santa Catalina,” Louis said.

The pilot nodded. “Understood, sir. We will adjust our route.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, and walked back to the lounge.

Cherish looked at him, her hands clasped in her lap. “Is it dangerous, Louis?”

“No, Cherry,” Louis said, sitting down next to her. “It’s a max-security prison with a lot of guards. And we are the bosses.”

“Still,” Cherish said, her brow furrowed. “I don’t like prisons.”

“None of us do, Cherry,” Angelique said. “But we have to go. We need to know what happened.”

“How far is it?” Savannah asked.

“Twenty-two miles south of Los Angeles,” Willa said, looking at her phone. “It’s an island.”

“An island prison?” Cherish asked. “That’s scary.”

“Only the western half is the prison, Cherry,” Angelique explained. “The eastern half is a tourist destination with beaches, hotels, and shops.”

“Interesting,” Maeve said. “I want to see the beach.”

“We are not going to the beach, Mae-Mae,” Louis said. “We are going to the prison.”

“I know,” Maeve said. “Can we go there after? As a reward?”

“We’ll see, Mae-Mae,” Louis said, looking out the window. “If there’s still sun left when we finish.”

Angelique sighed. “The timing of this death is very suspicious.”

“It is,” Willa agreed. “He could have given us more information. Now he’s silenced.”

“Someone wanted him silenced,” Savannah said. “Or someone wanted to send a message to us.”

“Or both,” Louis said. He took a sip of water. “We have two leads now. The Bishop in Quebec and the People’s Liberation Front. The Prophet King mentioned they were active in Nevada. And Las Vegas is where Finch got into trouble with gambling.”

“So we think the Bishop is connected to the PLF?” Donya asked.

“Unlikely,” Willa said. “The PLF is a secular revolutionary group. The Bishop is the manager of a human trafficking network. They have different ideologies.”

“But they might have a common enemy,” Louis said. “The Dominion and the Collins family. And they might have a common business interest, like making money through illegal means.”

“It’s possible,” Savannah said. “A lot of strange alliances are formed in the dark. Like the Dominion and the Kingdom of Utah.”

“That’s a good point, Savvy,” Angelique said. “We should not rule out any connection. No matter how unlikely.”

“Finch might have known something,” Maeve said. “And someone wanted to make sure he would never talk.”

“We need to find out who that someone is,” Louis said, looking at the women. “I wonder if Mr. Cruise knows more than he let on.”

“He’s a businessman, Louis,” Savannah said. “He’s more concerned about the stock price than the truth.”

“He is,” Louis said. “But he also knows that he can’t afford to have a major security breach in his company. Why is Finch dead right after our meeting? It’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Maybe you scared him,” Gladice said. “He panicked, and he decided to get rid of the problem.”

“Or maybe the person who bribed Finch panicked,” Willa said. “And they decided to get rid of him. That sounds more logical.”

“Or Finch killed himself,” Donya said, her voice soft. “He was in a hopeless situation. He lost everything. He might have seen no way out.”

“With cyanide in a max-security prison? That doesn’t sound like a suicide, Donya,” Angelique said.

“Maybe he had it on him,” Donya said. “And he waited for the right moment to use it.”

Gladice rolled her eyes. “You never went to a prison, did you, Donya?”

Donya shook her head. “No.”

“Then let me tell you something. You don’t get to bring your own stuff in. Not even a toothpick. They search you. Very thoroughly, including your asshole. So if he had cyanide, someone gave it to him,” Gladice said. “And that someone is either a guard, an inmate, or a visitor, who’d have a lot of power.”

“I agree,” Savannah said. “This was a professional hit. Not a suicide.” She frowned. “Now Robin has a new problem to deal with. I wanna know how he can manage to save my family at the same time.”

“We have many capable people in the Dominion, Savvy,” Louis said. “Besides, the Collective is working on it too.”

“Let’s hope they are capable enough,” Savannah said.

“There’s still another hour to the flight,” Angelique said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Let’s make a new list,” Gladice said. “Ways to kill the Bishop. And make it look like an accident.” She grinned. “Like drowning him in a barrel of maple syrup.”

Maeve frowned. “That’s a waste of good syrup. A bullet is cheaper.”

“Where is your creativity, Mae-Mae?” Gladice asked. “We want to make a statement.”

“Forgive me for not being comfortable with wasting food,” Maeve said. “I’d rather keep the syrup for our pancakes.”

“Pancakes are good,” Cherish said. “I like them with berries.”

“Me too, Cherry,” Angelique said. “We can have some for breakfast tomorrow.”

“What about a nice fall from the CN Tower?” Gladice asked.

“What’s that?” Cherish asked.

“A big tower in Toronto, Cherry,” Angelique said.

“We can push him off, and then say he slipped,” Gladice said.

“Isn’t he in Quebec?” Willa asked.

“He might travel to Toronto,” Gladice said. “For business.”

“I think we should be realistic, Glads,” Angelique said. “This Bishop could be anywhere in the world. We need a better plan than just hoping he’ll be near a tall structure.”

“Fine,” Gladice said. “Let’s use a tungsten rod again.”

“We were lucky last time, Glads.” Angelique sighed. “Joseph Taylor is in charge of Utah, and he’s our ally now. And they are an isolationist theocracy. It’s a miracle that we kept the strike a secret.”

“I am not sure if we did,” Willa said. “A lot of people in the area saw it. And a lot of seismic sensors detected it too. Someone will put the pieces together sooner or later.”

“But they won’t have any evidence if they can’t even get close to the impact site,” Louis said. “And I doubt the Prophet King will share any information with them. He already announced that it was a divine punishment.”

“Divine punishment with a high-velocity tungsten rod,” Gladice said, winking at Louis. “A true miracle.”

Louis shrugged. “It’s his narrative now. We’ll let him have it. So the world is left with a mystery.”

“Not for long, I’m afraid,” Willa said. “Intelligence agencies are not stupid. The MI6, the AIO, the DGSE, or the BND. They will know it was us. Or at least, they will have a strong suspicion.”

“Let them have their suspicion,” Louis said. “As long as they don’t have any proof, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Louis. It makes things harder for us in the long run,” Willa said.

“Like what? Getting a visa for the EU?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like operating in their territories, including Quebec,” Willa said.

“We can just go there as tourists, Willa,” Angelique said. “We all have diplomatic passports.”

“We do,” Willa said. “But we will be watched. And it will be harder for us to do what we need to do.”

“We are already watched everywhere we go,” Savannah said. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is the level of scrutiny, Savvy. And the level of cooperation we can expect from the local authorities,” Willa said. “Or the lack of it.”

“We don’t need cooperation from the local authorities,” Louis said. “We are the authority.”

“You can’t just walk into Quebec and kidnap a Canadian citizen, Louis,” Willa said. “That would be an act of war with the EU.”

“We’ll see,” Louis said. “They can complain to our ambassadors.”

Gladice laughed. “And we will apologize and send them a fruit basket.”

“That’s a good idea,” Cherish said. “Fruit is healthy.”

Willa sighed. “This is going to be a diplomatic nightmare.”

“It always is, Willa. You’ll get used to it,” Louis said.

“I will never get used to it, Louis. And I will never stop questioning it,” Willa said.

“I know,” Louis said. “That’s why I love you. You are sexy when you are serious.”

Willa blushed slightly. “That’s not fair, Louis. You’re trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” Louis asked.

“Maybe a little,” Willa admitted. “But I’m still serious about this.”

“So am I,” Louis said, looking out the window. “I’m serious about finding the Bishop.”

“Why did he call himself the Bishop?” Cherish asked. “Maybe he likes chess?”

“Maybe,” Angelique said. “Or maybe it’s a religious title, like a bishop in a church.”

Cherish frowned. “We don’t have bishops in the church. We have preachers, deacons, or elders.”

“It’s a Catholic title, Cherry,” Angelique explained. “The most senior priests, below a cardinal.”

Cherish’s eyes lit up. “He’s Catholic! He must be evil! I was always told that Catholics worship the Pope and the Virgin Mary instead of the Lord Jesus!”

Savannah laughed. “Oh, Cherry.”

“I’m not joking, Savvy,” Cherish said, her cheeks flushed. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Cherry,” Savannah said. “It’s just… you are adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” Cherish said. “I’m just saying the truth.”

“The truth is that we don’t know anything about this Bishop yet,” Willa said. “His religion is the last thing we should be concerned about.”

“I disagree,” Donya said. “His name might tell us something about his background. It gives us a clue.”

“It could be a code name, Donya,” Angelique said. “A nickname. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“Maybe he’s a former Catholic priest, and he was defrocked for some dark deeds,” Gladice said. “Like drinking blood from babies.”

Cherish gasped. “That’s horrible. I know Catholics do that in secret.”

Louis looked at her. “Cherry, where did you hear that?”

“From my father. He read it in a book about the Inquisition,” Cherish said.

“Your father read a lot of interesting books, Cherry,” Louis said. “You know, Poland is a Catholic country, that’s where your ancestors are from, do you think they are evil too?”

Cherish looked down at her hands. “No. I… I don’t know. I never met any Catholics.”

“You met my father, Cherry,” Angelique said. “He was baptized Catholic, even if he’s not a practicing one anymore.”

Cherish looked up, surprised. “Is he? He seems so nice.”

“He is,” Angelique said. “Being nice or evil has nothing to do with religion.”

“So, the Bishop could be any religion,” Cherish said. “Or none.”

“Exactly, Cherry,” Angelique said. “We need to focus on the facts. Not on the myths.”

“But facts are boring, Angi,” Gladice said, leaning forward. “And we still have a long way to go. Let’s spice up the conversation a bit. What if the Bishop is actually a woman? A very evil, and very hot woman.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it, Glads.”

“Why not?” Gladice asked. “A woman can be a criminal mastermind or a bishop. In some sects.”

“I think I would have heard it if a woman was running a major human trafficking network,” Louis said. “The world is still very sexist, you know.”

“Then let’s be the change we want to see in the world,” Gladice said, winking. “Let’s start a rumor. The Bishop is a woman. And she’s coming for all the men, if their cocks are over six inches.”

Louis laughed. “You’re ridiculous, Glads.”

“I know,” Gladice said, grinning.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “Can we talk about something more productive? Like what we’re going to do at the prison?”

“We are just going to walk in, inspect the crime scene, talk to the guards, and watch the footage,” Louis said. “That’s all.”

“I hope so,” Maeve said, looking at her hands. “I don’t want to have a fight in a prison. It’s a very confined space.”

“We won’t, Mae-Mae,” Louis said. “We are going to have a lot of guards with us. They will handle any trouble, if there is any.”

“I still want to bring my sword,” Maeve said.

“We can bring anything we want, Mae-Mae,” Louis said. “It’s our prison.”

“Right,” Maeve said, a small smile on her face.

The jet began its descent. Louis looked out the window. The island of Santa Catalina came into view.