Rikki angled to the left and found a short flight of steps to the stage. He hastened up, moving past the immense box and the odd pedestal to the control console. An array of switches, buttons, and meters evidently operated the equipment. He leaned over the console, studying the labels under each one, until he spied a white button marked POWER ON. His left forefinger depressed the button, and the console began to hum as the meters became lit and other small indicator lights came on.
Now what?
He found a toggle switch marked GLOBES and thumbed it down.
The glass spheres on the pedestals made a buzzing noise as blue and purple rays shot from the gray needles to the inner surface of the glass, arcing and sparkling.
Rikki stared at the spheres, puzzled. What purpose did they serve? He scanned the console, noting a recessed keyboard near his midriff, and tapped four of the keys. With each tap the chamber reverberated to raucous musical notes thundering from the boxlike objects.
Most strange.
He noticed a button labeled SATAN’S EYES and pressed it with his left index finger. Glancing overhead, he discovered a pair of fiery red eyes had appeared on the panel hanging from the silver chains.
This was mystifying.
Rikki contemplated the purpose for the equipment. The boxlike objects must be colossal speakers. The Family owned a few shortwave radios, and each incorporated a small speaker in its housing. But what about the spheres and the eyes? Were they part of a bizarre light show, a special effect-Special effect?
He recalled the history of the mansion as disclosed by the King. The noble man in the painting had been the first to own the estate, and then a musical group. Was it possible the equipment on the stage was theirs?
Was this chamber their practice room? Did that explain the keyboard and the speakers? He thought of the posters of the outlandish musicians decorating the throne room. Had the last owners of the estate been like those pictured in the posters? If so, everything was explained.
The King must have found this room when he occupied the mansion, and discovered the special effects while tinkering with the console.
Perhaps it was then that his insane mind had concocted the scheme of using the equipment to further his mad ambition. What had General Thayer said? There had been dissension in the ranks. A month after moving into the mansion, Aloysius had called a dissatisfied captain into this very room. Thayer and the other Hounds in the throne room had heard a terrible racket—the music from the speakers? And the King had come out with the dead captain.
Rikki stared at the console, immersed in speculation.
Aloysius must have decided to use the equipment to create the illusion of the Dark Lord. The idea was brilliant. What better way to stifle protest and insure obedience than to fabricate a dreaded deity that would punish transgressors with instant death?
The thought caused the Warrior to frown.
Not quite everything was explained.
What about the deaths?
Dozens of victims killed without a trace of violence on their corpses.
How could this have been done?
Some of the victims were found in locked rooms, and Thayer had mentioned one man killed ten miles from Memphis.
If the Dark Lord was a fake, then Aloysius must be responsible for the deaths. But what technique was he employing?
Rikki turned off the power and watched the spheres go dim as the humming ceased. He racked his memory, reviewing every type of weapon with which he was familiar, every kind he’d ever read about in the Family library. A gun fitted with a silencer was relatively quiet, but a bullet inevitably left a wound, even when fired by handguns of the smallest caliber. A bow and arrow were lethal and silent, but an arrow invariably made entry and exit holes. Tiny darts, in the hands of an expert, could be fatal, but again, they produced discernible points of penetration. Poison seemed highly unlikely. How would Aloysius administer a toxin to an unwilling recipient?
The mystery was even deeper.
How were the victims in the locked rooms killed if the doors and windows were secured?
Did Aloysius own keys to all the buildings at the Complex? Or did the King possess a single key capable of unlocking almost any door?
Rikki remembered reading about a certain sort of key used by the criminal element prior to the Big Blast. A skeleton key, or passkey, it was called.
Did Aloysius own a skeleton key?
There were so many questions, and not enough answers.
So what was his next move?
Rikki jumped from the edge of the stage to the floor and headed for the red door, pondering his course of action. He gazed at the door, idly wondering why the King hadn’t bothered to lock it. But why should Aloysius bother? The Hounds and the residents of Memphis were undoubtedly all terrified of the Dark Lord. Not one of them would be foolhardy enough to venture into the Dark Lord’s chamber. Aloysius had devised the perfect deterrent, the ideal protector, and the irony of the situation was that the people of Memphis were subservient to an illusion.
They were afraid of a shadow cast by a deranged mind. They were allowing themselves to be deluded because they lacked the courage to confront their fear, to face the truth.
He stopped in the doorway and looked back. What would happen, he wondered, if the people found out about the King’s deception? Would they rise in rebellion and overthrow his despotic yoke? Would they put an end to his demented drive to conquer the world? Or would they still follow Aloysius, staking their survival on a planet torn by strife and chaos in a man whose mind was a reflection of the postwar devastation?
Rikki took a step into the throne room. Just as the drumming cadence of many boots sounded from the corridor on the far side. Aloysius the First must be returning! And he had forgotten to close the throne room door!
Chapter Nineteen
The man with the neatly trimmed beard scrutinized the Warriors.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Aloysius the First.” He grinned maliciously. “The King.”
Blade glanced at the corner they had just turned, then at the Hounds.
He might be able to reach cover before they could fire, but he would endanger Chastity and Bonnie in the process.
“If you try anything,” Aloysius declared, looking at the giant and the man in buckskins, “I will have the girl and Bonnie shot where they stand.”
“I could plug this varmint before they get me,” Hickok mentioned softly, so only Blade, Bonnie, and Chastity could hear.
“No,” Blade responded. “We can’t take the chance.”
“What are you whispering about?” Aloysius demanded.
“We were wonderin’ how someone with a face like a horse’s butt got to be the head honcho around here,” Hickok replied.
The King grinned. “Enjoy your petty witticisms while you can. The Dark Lord will put an end to your sarcasm.”
“You’re a brave man when you’re backed up by three or four dozen guns,” Hickok remarked. “How about you and me going at it, one on one?”
“Surely you jest?”
“Not in public,” Hickok retorted.
“I have no need to prove my courage,” Aloysius stated.
“In other words, you’re a wimp,” Hickok declared.
Aloysius glared at the gunman. “For that insult, you will die first.”
“Good. I get bored just sittin’ around,” Hickok said.
“Drop your weapons!” Aloysius snapped.
“I’d rather not,” Hickok answered.
“One word from me, and you’ll be shot so full of holes that your own mother wouldn’t recognize you,” the King warned.
“At least I had one,” Hickok cracked.
“Enough!” Aloysius barked. “Drop them now!”
Hickok looked at Blade. “It’s your play, pard.”