HL 04-The Final Hour by Andrew Klavan Page A

the word to Samuel.”
    I saw his black eyebrows draw down. “Samuel?”
    “He’s coming to town after Christmas. He’ll be the first at number 1912 on the thirtieth of December. Samuel, I mean.”
    The next moment seemed to last forever. I didn’t really think there was much of a chance that Mike would understand me then and there. Like I said, he did read that camo-covered Bible, but I doubted he knew it chapter and verse. I was never much good at memorizing stuff myself. I had my copy in my cell so I’d looked it up before coming. I just hoped Mike would figure out what I was trying to say and look it up himself when he got home.
    “Samuel, the first at number 1912,” I heard him repeat softly. I saw his eyes move away from me and shift up to the right as if he were looking for something inside his own head. And then—yes!—I could see it on his face. He found it:
    First Samuel 19:12: So Michal let David down through a window, and he fled and escaped .
    Mike’s lips parted. He understood. He stared at me, dumbfounded.
    “December 30,” I said again. “He’ll be there with all his friends.”
    Mike’s face changed as I watched through the window. For a minute, I seriously thought he was going to come crashing through that Plexiglas and grab me by the shirtfront. His voice became a harsh whisper. “Are you out of your mind? I said I’d get the word out and I will.”
    “There’s no time, Mike. You’re gonna need whatever information is in my head. It might be our only chance.”
    “Forget it,” Mike said, his eyes burning into me. “We’ll handle it from here.”
    “You’re going to need friends too. Rose is going to need them. He’s on the outs with his bosses. He’s an embarrassment to them and they don’t believe him. Even if he finds the answers he needs, he may be on his own.”
    “No,” Mike told me, speaking full force. “It’s nuts. Nuts. Do not do it. You read me?”
    “Mike . . .”
    “Do you read me, chucklehead?”
    I sat back. What could I say? Mike was smart. Not just smart. He was wise. He was a soldier, a hero, and if he said he was going to get to Rose, he would get to him, if anyone could.
    But the truth was: I was breaking out of here anyway. I didn’t know what the Great Death meant—not exactly— but I knew Prince would not be satisfied with anything less than mass murder and destruction. I could not sit inside my cell and just hope he was stopped. If I could help, I had to try.
    “Do you read me?” Mike said once again.
    “ Time’s up! ”
    I started as the guard made the announcement over the loudspeaker. Mike kept leaning in toward me, waiting for my answer. But now the two guards who stood on watch behind the visitors came forward off the wall.
    “Wrap it up,” one of them said.
    Mike stared in at me through the glass. “I will get the word out,” he told me. “There is no need to do anything stupid.”
    “Mike,” I said, “if anything happens, if New Year’s Eve comes and Prince isn’t stopped and I thought I could’ve done something—”
    “No,” he said again.
    “Listen to me—”
    A hand came down on my shoulder. It was the guard in back of me. “Say ‘Merry Christmas,’ kid, and wrap it up,” he said. “You’re done.”
    “Merry Christmas, Mike,” I said. Slowly, my hand lifted to set the telephone back in its cradle. Mike was still talking through his handset. I could see him shaking his head. I could see his lips forming the word no over and over again.
    The guard came up behind him and said something I couldn’t hear. Mike hung up the phone—hard. He stood up. We stared at each other through the glass.
    Mike shook his head one more time. No .
    Then the guard led me away.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Merry Christmas
     
    I got the knife on Christmas Day—the shiv I was supposed to kill Dunbar with. Blade slipped it into my hand during the service in the chapel.
    The chapel was just another faceless, windowless cinder-block room in the