Page 58 of End of Days

I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots. I said, “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

She looked at me and said, “I can see it. I feel it. You didn’t want me there.”

I was really regretting my choice of teams. I’d decided that we should split up the Israelis so we could act American, if that was calledfor, or Israeli, if that was the better choice, leaving one or the other to do the talking. Aaron and Jennifer were getting our hotel rooms, and, since the interview with the Knights of Malta was a pure U.S. State Department affair, Knuckles and Brett were doing that. Which left me with Shoshana. The Dark Angel.

And this ridiculous discussion in the heart of Rome while I was trying to prevent more deaths. But I understood it. She had always been a stone-cold killer, but in her heart, she was also vulnerable.

I sighed and said, “Shoshana, you look at me and call me Nephilim. My given name. Why is that?”

She considered for a moment, then said, “Because it is what you are.”

“So I’m some giant from the Old Testament saving the world.”

“Not a giant. But saving the world, yes. You are pure.”

I turned to her and said, “And so are you. You areme. Not having you at the wedding would be the same as not having Jennifer there.”

She sat still for a moment, then said, “Do you mean that?”

I chuckled and said, “Look into my eyes. Do that weird thing. Figure it out for yourself.”

She smiled and said, “I just don’t know who to trust in this world. Aaron is my touchstone. And Jennifer. I’m just not sure about you.”

I said, “Yeah, because I’m you in male flesh. You don’t trustyourself. Let’s get out of here.”

I circled around the park, entered an apartment complex, and began a three-point turn to get back out. Shoshana said, “Stop.”

I did, saying, “What now?”

She pointed to the end of the building, and I saw a bunch of crime scene tape. I said, “What?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that the geolocation ended near here and there’s now crime scene tape?”

I leaned back and said, “Yeah, maybe.”

“Let’s go see what’s going on. It might be something that leads us to the Croatian’s contact.”

“Shoshana, come on. Why would this crime scene do that?”

She said, “It might be nothing, but then again, it might be something.”

She exited the car and said, “It’s time to be Americans. Get that State Department badge out. Let’s go see.”

I sighed again and exited the vehicle. I thought it was bullshit, but then again, with Shoshana, you never knew.

We reached the stairwell, and I showed a half-assed identification saying I was a consular officer for the United States. Of course, if they did any checking, we were done.

The officer wouldn’t allow us up, but told us someone was coming down.

A woman of about forty appeared, with a fairly attractive face, a mole right above her lip, shoulder-length hair, and an air of being in charge. Immediately, when I saw her, I thought,This should be Knuckles’s job,because her hard-ass appearance would melt when she saw him.

She said, “Yes? Can I see some identification?”

I flashed my counterfeit credentials, and she seemed to believe it. She said, “What do you want here? Do you have some interest in this killing?”

I said, “Killing? No. We’re missing a man, and this was his last known location. We walked into this purely by coincidence. When I saw the tape, I thought it prudent to see what was going on, just in case.”

Shoshana slipped past us and began climbing the stairs. The woman shouted, “Hey! This is a crime scene!”

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