“The Apostle of Divine Mercy,” Pippa murmured, remembering her lessons well. She’d seen the woman on the news lately. What had it been about? She wracked her brain, and it finally came to her. “The woman’s march in DC later today. You’re one of the organizers?” Her mind spun.
“Yes,” Isaac said. “Faustyna has been in place for five years, owning and working in a store in DC. She had infiltrated many organizations until she was in position to help plan this rally, along with the date and parade route. She has truly done God’s work.”
The dawning realization of the true reach of Isaac’s plan nearly dropped Pippa to her knees. She looked at the five other women in the room. One was her mother, another was a pretty and very bruised blonde. The woman Pippa recognized from a decade ago had been named Lilac. “Lilac?” she asked, remembering the now fiftysomething woman’s kindness when she’d once been stung by a bee.
Lilac’s dark gaze hardened. “I work as a waitress on the parade route Faustyna so carefully set up. No one will question my being there.”
Heat scorched Pippa’s throat. “What are you planning?”
“The backpacks are in the cabinet by the sliding glass door,” Isaac said to George. “Fetch them.”
George faltered and then moved toward the cabinet, opening it and ducking down to retrieve seven very different colored backpacks. From a light beige pack to a designer pack to an obvious student pack, he hefted them out carefully, setting them down as if they weighed a significant amount. “What’s in the packs, Prophet?” he asked, finally standing.
“God’s wrath,” Isaac replied. “Suit up, ladies.” He nodded toward a muted white bag near the door. “Bring that one over for my dear Mary.” He coughed. “Old habits die hard, don’t they? Oh well. We can call you Mary for the day.”
She jerked away from him, fully intending to go for her gun. The sight of a shiny silver pistol in his hand stopped her. He’d been quick to grab it from his pocket. “I will not be used to harm anybody else, Isaac,” she hissed.
He turned the gun on her mother. “Put on the backpack, Mary.”
Pippa watched in disbelief as the other women chose backpacks, slipping their hands through the straps. “Are you people crazy? Do you understand what’s probably in those? Do you realize you’re about to hurt a lot of people?”
They moved woodenly and yet somehow with purpose.
Her mother chose the designer bag, oddly enough. She slipped her arms into it and secured it across her chest. “Mary. This is the only way.”
They were lost. They were all so damn lost. The only good news here was that the police had the road covered. No cars would make it out of the forested area to get anywhere near DC.
George settled the heavy backpack over Pippa’s shoulders. She fought him, but he yanked her arms through the straps and secured them. The weight almost pulled her backward, and she had to shift her hips to keep her balance. “At the very least, you can tell me what’s in here,” she muttered.
Isaac smiled. “Presents in a pressure cooker. Nails, ball bearings, fireworks, gas, and powder.”
She shut her eyes and swayed, quickly regaining her balance. “The same type of bombs as those used at the Boston Marathon years ago.”
He nodded. “That’s where I got the idea. Except these will detonate at chest level and hit abdomens, heads, and torsos. Not legs.”
Oh God. He really was crazy. Even if Pippa died, these things couldn’t make it to DC.
Isaac smiled and reached for a box. “I have your detonators here and will give them to you once we’re in DC. I’d hate for one of you to accidentally press the button.” He laughed.
Pippa turned, shock coursing through her. He really was that insane.
He looked at George. “Burn the mansion down. Use all the gasoline we have in the kitchen pantry.”
George’s eyes widened. “What about Malcolm and Trixie? They’re locked downstairs.”
Pippa jerked hard. Malcolm was locked down there, too? Had Isaac figured out he was a cop? “Let me go. Please let me get them.”
“No. Burn them all, George.” Isaac gestured toward the sliding glass door. “It’s time to go.” The women began to file out.
Pippa tried to fight him. Why would they go into the backyard?
Isaac grabbed her arm in a painful grip and propelled her toward the door. “You didn’t think we were taking the front road, did you?”
She struggled against his hold, but with the bomb on her back, she couldn’t gain leverage. “There’s a back road?” The cops would have that covered, right? They’d get to Mal before George could start the fire, too.
“Probably. But for this? We have a helicopter.”
Chapter Forty-One
