The man handed Dunagan a small scrap of paper. Dunagan read it, smiled, then crumpled it in his fist. “The jury finds Donald Vick guilty in absentia of high treason.”
The crowd cheered. After thunderous applause and shouting they fell into a chant. “Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood!” they shouted, fists raised in the air.
“Donald Vick has committed the cardinal sin,” Dunagan proclaimed. “Treason against ASP. For reasons entirely his own, he betrayed us all, disregarding his oath and performing acts at odds with our hallowed goals. His name shall be stricken from the rolls of ASP. It shall be as if he was never there. He is dead.”
More cheers. Dunagan’s last words echoed in Ben’s ears. He wondered if that was a proclamation, or a prediction.
Ben slapped his forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Christina frowned. “What?”
“I should’ve been taping this whole disgusting assembly. Hand me the camcorder.”
“Let this be a warning to all our enemies,” Dunagan cried out. His voice soared in pitch and volume. “ASP will mete out retribution to those who oppose us, whether they lie without or within.”
“Blood, blood, blood,” the ASP men chanted. “Death, death, death!
The cry filled the room, so loud it made Ben’s bones shake. He gripped the camera tightly and tried to prevent his trembling from spoiling the picture.
“They certainly have esprit de corps, don’t they?” Christina whispered.
“Too much for my taste.”
Dunagan continued his sermon. “Those who challenge us will perish as surely as all the godforsaken nonwhite races will die in the flames of Christ’s fiery sword. We have slaughtered our enemies before. And we shall do so again.”
This time the chanting persisted for more than a full minute. Ben swept the room with his camera, trying to make sure everyone got in the picture. Say cheese, ASP.
Dunagan raised his right hand, and his followers quickly did the same. He began to recite, and every man in the room joined him. They all knew it by heart.
“I am an Aryan. I serve the forces that guard my Aryan race. I am prepared to give my life in defense of my race.”
Their voices swelled, chanting in unison. “I am an Aryan. I will never betray other Aryan people. I will fight the enemies of the Aryan race with my dying breath. I will never surrender.
“I am an Aryan,” they continued. “If I am incarcerated, I will remember at all times my duty as an Aryan. As a political prisoner of war, I will answer only with my age, name, and address when questioned. I will resist any activity harmful to the Aryan race. I will obey the orders of my superior officers at all times.”
The oath continued for three more verses, followed by cheers and shouts. Ben kept the camera rolling. Finally Dunagan waved down the noise. “You may also wish to know that tonight’s incursion against the infidels at Coi Than Tien was a complete success.”
Another spontaneous cheer, raising the rafters. Ben began to fear the meeting would disintegrate into a riot.
“Every time we act, our enemies become a little weaker, a little less able to resist. Soon they will give up, recognizing defeat. They will leave this place to the Anglo-Saxon races to whom it rightfully belongs. Tonight’s operation went entirely as planned, according to my orders.”
Ben gripped the camera all the tighter, focusing tightly on Dunagan’s face. Thank you for the confession, Mr. Grand Dragon. I think you just said enough to get yourself convicted of felony murder.
Ben was so focused on Dunagan’s confession he didn’t hear the sneakered footsteps approaching behind him.
“Intruder!” The shout was long and loud, silencing the assembly.
A pair of hands thudded down on Ben’s shoulders, causing him to drop the camera. He tried to break away, but another pair of hands twisted his arms tightly behind his back.
“Christina! Run!”
Too late. They had her. One of them grabbed her satchel, another had an arm around her neck. She fought and kicked, but it was no use. They were much too powerful for her.
“There’s two of them!” the man holding Ben shouted.
Dunagan’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Ben. When he finally spoke, it was almost like a growl.
“Bring them to me.”
62.
THE TWO MEN HOLDING Ben dragged him through the ranks of ASP to the center table, with Christina close behind. He struggled futilely. He couldn’t get away. And even if he could, where would he go? He was surrounded by fifty more just like the two who were holding him.
“Demon Kincaid,” Dunagan said through clenched teeth. “How nice to see you again.”
“The pleasure isn’t mutual.”
“I would advise you not to offend me more than you already have,” he said ominously. He glanced at Christina. “Who’s she? Another Hatewatch whore?”
“She’s a member of my staff. An employee. She’s only here because I ordered her to be here. Let her go.”
“I’m afraid it may be too late for that.”
“Don’t even think about hurting her, Dunagan. I heard what you said a minute ago. Including your confession that you’re behind the attacks on Coi Than Tien.”
“Our land must be cleansed.”
“Yeah, well, tonight’s cleansing resulted in a death, and that means you can be charged with felony murder. That’s a capital offense, Dunagan. Just like murder one.”
The muscles in Dunagan’s face and neck tightened. “Then I will have to ensure that you never have a chance to tell anyone what you have learned.”
Another ASP man broke through the ranks. He was waving the video camera. “The intruders dropped this.”
Dunagan snatched the camera away, glaring at Ben the whole time. Unfortunately he knew how camcorders worked. He rewound the tape, then watched it through the viewfinder.
“They are spies!” he shouted. “Enemies!”
The angry snarls and hisses chilled Ben’s blood.
“How convenient,” Dunagan continued, “that we already have a jury assembled. Gentlemen of the jury, I submit Exhibit A!”
He passed the camera to the man who had submitted the previous verdict, who in turn passed it to the other members of the ASP jury. Some of them looked at the tape; some of them didn’t bother.
“Are you able to reach a verdict?” Dunagan asked.
“Wait a minute!” Ben said. “What kind of trial is this? Don’t I get an opportunity to be heard?”
Dunagan slapped Ben harshly with the back of his hand. “Your actions have spoken much louder than your words ever could. I ask you again, gentlemen of the jury. Have you reached a verdict?”
The jury huddled for less than ten seconds. “We find the intruders guilty of conspiracy against ASP.”
Ben struggled to get free, but his captors held his arms tight. He couldn’t even budge. “I’m not intimidated by this sick kangaroo court, Dunagan. You wouldn’t know justice if it knocked you in the face.”
Dunagan hit Ben again, this time with his fist.
“Very good.” Dunagan faced the entire assembly. “The intruders have been found guilty by this tribunal. What shall their sentence be?”
“Death!” one voice shouted, and then the others joined in. “Death, death, death, death, death!”
Ben couldn’t believe this was happening. It was too fast—too surreal. People didn’t really act this way. No one could have so much hate; no one could be so devoid of conscience. Not so many of them. Unfortunately the mob mentality was probably the main problem. Groups were easier to manipulate than individuals. And this group was thoroughly under Dunagan’s control.
“Death, death, death, death, death!” ASP shouted.