The Belial Plan Read online

  THE BELIAL PLAN

  A BELIAL SERIES NOVEL

  R.D. BRADY

  SCOTTISH SEOUL PUBLISHING, LLC

  Contents

  Books By R.D. Brady

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  FACT OR FICTION?

  ON DECK

  About the Author

  Books By R.D. Brady

  BOOKS BY R.D. BRADY

  The Belial Series (in order)

  The Belial Stone

  The Belial Library

  The Belial Ring

  Recruit: A Belial Series Novella

  The Belial Children

  The Belial Origins

  The Belial Search

  The Belial Guard

  The Belial Warrior

  The Belial Plan

  Stand-Alone Books

  Runs Deep

  Hominid

  The A.L.I.V.E. Series

  B.E.G.I.N.

  A.L.I.V.E.

  Be sure to sign up for R.D.'s mailing list to be the first to here when she has a new release!

  PROLOGUE

  MADRID, SPAIN

  1502

  Marguerite stared at the women who surrounded her, her friends, her sisters. There were twenty-two of them. Most had Marguerite’s dark hair and eyes, taking on the looks of their adopted homeland with skin bronzed golden after generations spent in the sun. Their hair had darkened as they wed and had children over the generations in which they’d made this land their home.

  But some maintained the red and blonde hair from their people of long ago. In age they ranged as well, from twelve to sixty-three.

  Marguerite fell in the middle of this group at thirty-six. She had been their leader, their spokesperson for five years, during all the tumult. The Inquisition had forced many groups into the shadows, too afraid to speak out. Many had disbanded. That was never an option for Marguerite and her sisters. Their duty was too great.

  Besides, this world, it was hard. It was meant to be. Suffering in this life meant greater understanding of why we were here, why we exist. But even she paused at the glimpses of the future her visions had shown her. Give me the strength to face it.

  These women were more than just followers of the Great Mother. They were the protectors of her final legacy. Even through the death of her husband and children, Marguerite could see the need to protect the Great Mother’s legacy, and protect it at all costs. At the same time, the Mother’s greatest lesson was so simple, so perfect: love. Embrace it, share it, teach it. That was all anyone need do. That was all that mattered.

  She glanced to where the other fifteen normally stood. Their numbers were reduced in body but not in spirit. May the Mother speed you on your journey, sisters.

  Her own family had gone on, but she would see them again. They had been in each other’s lives for eons. And one day, she would join them again. Part of her longed for that day, but a larger part of her knew her job in this lifetime was not finished yet. And she would not shrink from what needed to be done.

  No matter how painful it will become.

  She turned her gaze to the women looking up to her in expectation. “Our sisters have gone ahead with our most sacred relic. They do so to protect the legacy of the Great Mother. Even now, forces move to strike her from this world’s memory. But we will not let them forget. She is seen in the kindness toward a stranger, in the compassion for an enemy, in the openness to new cultures and new ways. We are her last soldiers. We pledge our lives and our bodies to her mission. And we pledge to find her in this world and be her example for all to see.”

  Marguerite reached for the ceremonial wine and raised it high. “May the Great Mother and her message of peace and love spread like wildfire across the world.”

  “Make it so.”

  “May those with hearts of anger and darkness see the light.”

  “Make it so.”

  “May the day dawn when we let go of the material needs of this world and embrace the needs of the soul above all else.”

  “Make it so.”

  “May the—”

  The door at the back of the room swung open with a bang. All the women rose to their feet with a cry as six men filled the space. All were armed and wore chests of metal, the red cross signaling them as members of the Inquisition.

  Marguerite sprinted to the back of the room. “Run, sisters!”

  The men spread out into the room, but the sisters were well prepared for this moment. The strongest rushed forward with Marguerite, giving the young and the old a chance to escape. Th
e women did not wait for the men to attack. They were a swirl of movement as they launched themselves at the weak points of their targets: groins, knees, and eyes. The first six men were taken down quickly, not expecting the skill of the women—but Marguerite could see additional forces coming.

  “Escape, sisters!” Marguerite yelled.

  As one they sprinted for the exit.

  One of the men managed to get to his feet; he grabbed Enique, only fourteen. With a ferocious cry, Marguerite kicked out his knee, then slammed her open palm into his face. As he lessened his grip on the girl, Marguerite yanked her from his clutches and pushed her toward the back. The terrified girl sprinted away.

  Marguerite managed only a step before a fist collided with her jaw. She crashed to the floor, her jaw ringing with pain, and she could feel a tooth loosened in the back of her mouth. She heard a stone door slam shut, blocking the women’s exit. Her heart cried out with fear at the slam of the lock, but she’d known this moment was coming. She had insisted upon it. Goodbye, sisters.

  A man yanked her up by the hair. She winced but clamped her lips shut to keep from making a sound.

  The man twisted her hair, forcing Marguerite to turn to him. He glared down at her. A scar ran down the left side of his face, cutting through his eye, leaving it white. “Do you know who I am?”

  Marguerite spat blood in his face. He backhanded her, and she nearly passed out as her jaw screamed in pain. He shook her roughly. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Where is it?” he demanded.

  “Safe from the likes of you.”

  “You think the women who fled through that tunnel have escaped? We will run them down. We will catch each and every one. And if you don’t tell me where it is, one of them will.”

  “None of us will betray the Great Mother.”

  He inspected her closely, then spoke softly, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise. “No, I don’t suppose you will. But tell me, will you sit back and watch your sisters as my men have their way with them? Will you stay loyal to your Great Mother then?”

  Marguerite’s stomach rolled at the thought. “They can not tell you what they do not know. What you seek is long gone from here, and none of us know where it has gone.”

  “So you say. But you would never reveal its location, not without some motivation.” He thrust her toward one of his men. “Make her talk. However you need to.”

  A second man grabbed her roughly by the arm. The brute that held her smiled, revealing three missing teeth. “Aren’t you pretty? But you won’t be when I’m done with you.”

  A man stepped into the room. Unlike the others, his skin was smooth and unmarked. But Marguerite knew he was not untested in battle. This man, she knew him well, not with her own eyes, but through the Great Mother. She started to shake and noticed a tremor run through the giant of a man holding her. Oh Great Mother, help me.

  The man cast a calculating look around the room before heading toward Marguerite. All the other men dropped to one knee. Marguerite was shoved roughly to the floor as the man holding her did the same.

  The man stopped in front of her, but the brute that held her kept her face crushed to the dirt floor. “Where is it?” the man asked, his voice soft, but the command there nonetheless.

  The man who had first grabbed her spoke, his eyes still on the floor. “She says it is not here. But we will get her to talk.”

  The man walked toward her, and Marguerite felt liquid run down her legs. “Stand,” he commanded.

  The brute who held her yanked her to her feet, her shoulder jolting painfully. Marguerite tried to stand tall, but her knocking knees would not cooperate.

  “Look at me.”

  Taking a breath, Marguerite looked up into the devil’s handsome face. His blue eyes peered into her brown ones.

  “You are scared. You should be.” He nodded to the brute. “Take her to my tent. I will question her.”

  Terror crawled through Marguerite, but she refused to let these men see it. Instead, she pictured the women who had escaped. Run, sisters. Run. Then she pictured her husband, son, and daughter. She looked into the man’s face and smiled.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “I will see my husband and children soon.”

  He leaned close, his breath on Marguerite’s cheek. “No. You won’t.”

  She looked up into his face, knowing the pain he would put her through, but also knowing that at the end she would finally find peace. Yes, I will.

  CHAPTER 1

  BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

  Three months ago, the crisis center dedicated to finding Delaney McPhearson had moved from Henry’s office on the third floor of the Chandler Headquarters main house to the second floor. In the almost six months that they’d been looking, everything here—all of the leads, hints, and information on Laney’s movement—had been carefully reviewed, investigated, and crossed off. Nothing had panned out.

  While Henry and Jake had agreed the search would continue, they could no longer make it the sole focus of everyone’s lives. Henry went back to running the Chandler Group, and most of the analysts had been pulled off to focus on other tasks. Jake, though, was still fully involved in the search. It was his primary mission. Not that that focus had helped; Laney was nowhere to be found. And as much as all of them hated to admit it, there were other responsibilities they needed to attend to.

  Now Jake walked along the line of three whiteboards attached to the long back wall. Everything on here was related to the search for Laney: pictures from surveillance cameras of women who might be Laney, sightings from across the globe, the report from the incident out in Colorado. Every spare space was covered with information—and not one single piece told them where Laney was.

  The more Jake looked for her, the more he realized why she’d left. And he realized it wasn’t just Laney who needed to adapt to her role. They all needed to. Laney—she was the general, which meant the rest of them needed to follow her lead. And for Jake, that had been incredibly difficult. He had years of military experience that Laney did not have. He had more experience in conflict. And he had his male ego; he could admit now that he had difficulty with letting a woman, especially one he cared about, run into danger.

  So wherever she was, he knew she had made the call to leave because no one else would be willing to do it. That’s what leaders did. They made the tough calls.

  And even though rationally he knew all of this—and even though rationally he accepted it—he was still driven to find her. Even if that was not what she wanted.

  He stopped at the picture of Drake. It was a publicity shot from the man’s agent. Drake glared at the camera in what the agent had informed Jake was his smolder look.

  Jake still couldn’t believe this Las Vegas entertainer had managed to grab Laney from the house in Colorado and disappear with her. Drake had last been seen carrying an unconscious Laney into a plane.

  Jake had his people running down Drake’s history, but it was as elusive as his current whereabouts. Drake had been in Vegas for close to twenty years, although from his photo he looked to only be in his thirties. But before that, there was no trace of the man. He walked into Vegas fully formed with a show and capital and not a clue as to where he had been before that. Of course Jake now knew the man was an archangel. But he was supposed to be on sabbatical. So whose side was he on? From what Jake had read of the man, Drake had allegiance to only one person: himself. So what the hell was he doing in the middle of all of this?

  The door opened behind him, and Henry Chandler ducked his head under the doorway to step inside. Angela Hartlett, his assistant, followed. Angela was in her late twenties with dark black hair and brown eyes. She’d been a recent hire, to handle some of the work overflow. She was professional, efficient, and focused.

  She was talking to Henry as they entered. “So I will speak with the office in Milan and contact the Japanese group to see if they can move up the deadline on the Scoba project. Anything else?”
r />   “That should do it for now. Get some lunch and I’ll be back upstairs in an hour or two,” Henry said.

  Angela made a note on her tablet. “Okay. Great. See you then. Hey, Jake.”

  Jake nodded. “Angela.”

  She smiled and bounced out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Jake raised an eyebrow at Henry. “I take it we’re still pretending we don’t know she’s FBI?”

  “Yup.”

  Henry sank into a chair at the end of the conference table. Since Laney had gone on the run, the surveillance on Jake, Henry, Patrick, and most of the Chandler Group had ramped up. They all had people tailing them. Their phone calls were recorded. Their online activity documented. The United States government was leaving no stone unturned in their attempt to track down Laney.

  And they weren’t the only ones. Two Israeli operatives had broken into Jen’s home in an attempted abduction last month. Jake smiled, picturing the scene when he and Henry had arrived. Jen had been filing her nails in her living room while the two agents lay unconscious and hogtied on the floor next to her. They’d contacted the FBI after that, and the State Department had assured Henry they’d had no idea the Israelis were working on US soil. Jen had agreed to not press charges, but only to avoid an international incident. They had enough attention on them as it was; she knew they didn’t need any more. But boy, had she been pissed.

  Jake nodded toward the door. “Anything from her cell?”

  “She’s been checking in with her handler, but she can only report on my business dealings. Her ASAC is getting a little annoyed.”

  “Do they have anything?”

  “Not that I can tell. I don’t suppose there’s anything new here?”

  Jake took a seat across from Henry. “A few more sightings. One in Bolivia, one in the Netherlands, and one in downtown Sacramento. And none of them Laney.”

  “Jake, I know you want to find her, but I think you need to accept that we’re not going to.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

  “Not what you’re thinking. I don’t think she’s dead. I just think Drake—he’s been around for a while. And until he decides to let her go, or until she figures out how to get away from him, we’re not going to find her.”

  “I just don’t get why he’d stick his neck out. I mean, from all reports he’s a playboy who only cares about his next hit of adulation.”

  Henry shook his head. “There has to be more to him than that. You know what he is.”