Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (12 page)

"Did you kill him?"

"We interrogated him first, one finger, toe, and testicle at a time." Her smile became cruel, and she snapped the cutters closed. "And we had many, many questions. We like to understand our enemies before we kill them."

He shuddered. "Sometimes I wonder if you really are the good guys."

"Don't be confused. We are
not
the good guys at all. We're the sharp end of divine retribution, the bloody sword the Lord wields in anger. Being nice is not our mission. If you don't know what I mean, read the
Old Testament
."

"Marina mentioned Sodom and Gomorrah."

"I've seen events like that with my own eyes. Horrors that would keep you awake for a week. But enough of that. Do you want to have a little fun? Let's spar." Ethel raised her eyebrows. "I need exercise."

"Martial arts? Sure."
I guess the orientation lecture is over.

* * *

Aaron and Ethel stood at opposite corners of a blue mat in the workout area. She wore a white karate uniform with a gray belt while he had only a blue sweat suit. His own uniform was packed with his belongings. Jack, Yvonne, and Edward had taken a break from their duties to watch the match. Aaron felt pressure to look good in front of them. Technically, he was their boss and wanted to earn their respect.

"If you hold back, I'll feel insulted," Ethel said. "That's fair warning. Come at me with everything you got."

Aaron cautiously approached in a defensive stance. He had seen enough of her skills to take her seriously as an opponent, but he still felt uncomfortable attacking her. She was more than twenty years older and much lighter than he was. Even with her supernatural speed and reflexes, it didn't seem like a fair fight.

He feinted with his right hand and followed with a kick to her midsection. Not his most powerful attack, but it was usually effective. He glimpsed a small black foot coming straight at his forehead. The next instant he was sitting on the ground, his head spinning.

"I warned you not to insult me," she said.

He climbed slowly to his feet. The fairness of the fight was no longer in doubt.

She had phenomenal speed but lacked brute strength. If he could force her into grappling with him, he would have the advantage.

He launched a flurry of punches and kicks that he hoped would soften her up, or at least knock her off balance. It was like hitting fog. She always dodged or twisted out of the way at the last instant. When her counter-attack came, it was lightning fast, but this time he was ready. He grabbed her wrist when her fist was only inches from his face. His feeling of satisfaction didn't last long though, because her foot exploded into his gut. He dropped to his knees and tried not to throw up.

"Move aside, junior," Victor said. "I'll show you how it's done."

Victor stood behind Aaron, and the big man was shirtless. He wore only white pants. Swollen muscles were stretched across his enormous chest. He was the most physically intimidating man Aaron had ever met.

Aaron crawled off the mat and onto the cold concrete floor.

"Obviously, you can't beat her with finesse," Victor said. "Tricks won't work since she knows them all. That leaves one option."

"What?" Aaron said.

Victor spread his arms wide and threw himself at Ethel. He was like an avalanche of muscle falling on her head. The attack was utterly reckless, and she made him pay for it with rapid-fire blows to his body. The hits sounded like a jackhammer. Despite the intense pain he was certainly feeling, he chased her around the room. Eventually, he trapped her in a corner, but she just slipped between his legs like a little girl.

"That's enough," she declared. "Let's hear your report."

There were red marks all over his chest and legs, which would probably turn into purple bruises tomorrow. He had taken a real beating. Aaron was stunned at the outcome of the fight.

"A lot of dead ends so far, ma'am," Victor said. "The cult has gone into hiding. The tear gas must've really scared them, or maybe Simon's 'angel' told him we're on his trail. I did learn they sell a lot of heroin."

"Aaron and Marina made the same discovery. We just have to follow the drug trail back to Simon."

"It could work."

"It needs to," she said, "because we don't have a plan B. Aaron and Marina will find the heroin, while you keep looking for other leads. Eat something, and get back out there."

Victor nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He left.

"Edward," Ethel said, "is Aaron's new identity ready?"

Edward nodded. "All set, ma'am."

"Then please give it to him."

Aaron followed Edward back to the computer and communications room. The shelves were so full of stuff that Aaron wondered how Edward kept track of it all. He probably had enough random parts to build twenty computers. There were also satellite dishes, radios, power converters, batteries, and even stereo components.

Edward searched his workbench until he found a leather wallet. He checked it. "Oh, wait, this is mine. Where did I put yours?" He searched some more until he found a second wallet under a manual. He gave it to Aaron.

"You have trouble with wallets?" Aaron said.

"I'm here all the time. I never need to carry one," Edward said. "This is your first new identity, so we made it easy for you, sir. You're a private eye named Alex Dempster."

Aaron opened the wallet and found a driver's license, a social security card, business cards, credit cards, insurance cards, a health club membership, and so on. He inspected the identification carefully and couldn't find a flaw.

"These forgeries are top quality," Aaron said. "Who made them?"

"Thanks. I did. There is more." Edward gave a manila envelope to Aaron.

He opened it and found a birth certificate, diplomas, insurance papers, bank statements, and a check book.

"The checking account has about three thousand dollars," Edward said, "and the savings has about eight thousand. It's your money to spend."

"Wow," Aaron said. "And the credit cards?"

"The Society pays all the bills."

"Do I have a budget?"

"No. Just don't be stupid, sir. That means no sports cars, jewelry, gambling, or anything like that. Keep a low profile."

"A very low profile," Ethel said as she entered the room. She had changed into a gray dress and flat shoes. "Spend exactly what you need to spend and no more. Be discrete at
all times
."

"What about the bank accounts I already have?" Aaron said.

"Forget about them. If you need to buy something, do it as Dempster. Food, clothes, entertainment, whatever. Aaron Glade cannot spend another penny in public for the rest of his life. Understand?"

He nodded. "But where does all the money come from, ma'am?"

"The cell in Manhattan has a team of bankers. They manage the accounts for all the other cells in North America. The money comes from them."

"And where do they get it?"

"From God, I suppose," she said. "The details of that process have never been disclosed to me."

"You're not curious?" he said.

"I'm the commander of Chicago. It's my job to worry about what happens in my territory and nothing else. As long as my colleagues in Manhattan continue to supply the money I need when I need it, I don't care how they do it. It's probably safer if I don't know. There are layers of secrets even within the Society."

Marina rushed into the room. "There you are! I've been looking for you, Aaron."

"What's up?" Aaron said.

"I got information from Craig Parker. We need to stake out a bus station on the south-side. Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"There's food in the kitchen. We leave in fifteen minutes. Eat quickly."

* * *

Aaron and Marina sat in a brown sedan across the street from a bus station. The station was a long, narrow building with a wide parking area. Tall steel poles and cables supported the curved roof, giving it an interesting architecture. Passengers entered the building from one end and waited inside for the buses which could park in many spots along the sides of the building.

Aaron's attention was not focused on the bus station itself but rather on two men standing on the corner. They wore the characteristic forest green robes and green facial tattoos of the Church of One Soul. They were giving away single roses, white or red, in exchange for donations.

"Seems innocent enough," Aaron said.

"Parker told me the cult sells more drugs here than anywhere else in the city," Marina said.

He watched the men closely.

"How did the orientation lecture with Ethel go?"

"It was short," he said. "Afterwards, we sparred, and she kicked my ass."

"Ethel isn't much of a communicator. To be honest, she isn't really a good manager at all. Too impatient and insensitive."

"What is she good at?"

"Killing." Marina furrowed her brow.

Aaron nodded. "I believe it. Even Victor couldn't beat her. It was the craziest thing. His thighs are bigger than her chest, but he got all the fight he could deal with. He'll be bruised for a week."

"Bruises?" She glanced at him. "That's like a tender kiss for her. Just wait until you see her fight with her machetes. She's a walking food processor."

He grunted. "Are you good at killing? How many people have you killed?"

"Lots."

"How do you feel about that?"

"It's not something I brag about," she said. "Can we change the subject?"

He took out his new wallet, the one for "Alex Dempster." Aaron's old wallet was gone. He carried nothing now that might give away his true identity. He examined his new driver's license carefully, memorizing details.
Alex Dempster is 32 years old. His birthday is January 7...

After a few minutes of silently repeating the information, he grew bored and asked, "How many identities do you have?"

"Three that I use regularly," Marina said. "You met Gretchen Stableford, FBI agent. You also met police detective Carol Withers. The last is an exotic dancer named Sparkle."

He leered. "I'd like to meet Sparkle."

"I'm sure you will some day." She winked seductively. "But right now I'm Withers. Don't forget. What's your name, again?"

"Alex Dempster, private eye. Why am I sitting in a car with a police detective?"

"Hmm." She clucked her tongue. "You're going to identify a suspect for me. Somebody you saw during one of your investigations?"

"Yeah. I'm helping you with a big narcotics case."

She nodded.

He watched the two cult members on the corner. A surprising number of people were buying roses even though the neighborhood was somewhat rough and inhospitable. The stem of each rose was wrapped in green foil.

A boy bought a rose for a girl and presented it ceremonially. She blushed and smiled at the romantic gesture.

"I'm curious," Aaron said. "Have you and Victor ever...?"

"Slept together?" Marina glanced at him knowingly. "There have been moments of loneliness and weakness, but they were just moments. We're not great friends. Why?"

"It's just that..."

"You're still interested in me?"

"You're a beautiful woman," he said, "with an amazing body and a bright mind. I'm very interested and getting even more interested all the time."

"But I could be a total lunatic." She scratched the air with her black fingernails like a cat. "You don't know anything about me."

"Then tell me."

Her smile vanished, and she looked out the window at the cult members.

"Marina..."

"My name is Withers," she said sharply.

"I promise I won't judge you. Please."

She snarled. "I'll tell you about one of my missions. We were chasing a guy who liked to kill immigrants with trained dogs. He was a racial purity fanatic. I was the one who finally caught him. I put him to sleep with my venom and stuffed him in a cage. I forced his arms and legs to stick out, so the cage only protected his body. Then I set the dogs loose. When he woke up, his arms and legs were partially chewed off. It took him a while to bleed to death while his dogs knocked the cage around. I watched the whole time."

Aaron swallowed.

"That's the woman you're interested in," she said. "A dangerously unstable bitch that enjoys killing people in very unpleasant ways."

He wasn't sure whether he could count this conversation as a success or not. At least she had finally let him peek inside her hard shell.

He went back to memorizing his new identity. The health club membership looked real, and he recognized the name of the club as one of the larger ones downtown.
I'll have to try it out.

"White roses," Marina said.

"What?"

"Watch the money."

Aaron studied the cult members carefully. There were definitely two classes of buyers, and the younger, hipper ones always got a white rose. She handed him a pair of binoculars, and he took a closer look. It seemed red roses cost a dollar each, but white roses cost a hundred. The transactions were handled crisply and without words.

"Smooth," he said.

"I estimate they've taken in two grand since we got here."

He settled back in his seat. There were plenty of white roses left to sell, so he and Marina would be here for a while.

An 18-wheeler stopped on the street directly in front of Aaron, blocking his view.

"Crap," he said. "Get out of the way!"

There was a knock on his window. He turned to see a pistol aimed directly at his face from just inches away.

A big man in a cheap blue suit said, "We're federal agents. Get out and come with us."

Another man stood on the other side of the car, and his gun was aimed at Marina. "Now."

Chapter Nine

Aaron looked to Marina for guidance.

"Cooperate," she whispered, "and stick to your cover story. If you tell them your real name, I will kill you myself." There was no hint of humor in her voice.

Aaron and Marina got out of the car and were hustled through an alley by the federal agents. They walked into a small, private parking lot behind a brick apartment building. Two additional men were already standing there, and they carried guns in visible holsters.