I was led down a narrow passage and out into what was obviously the assembly room-the interior of a large barn. There must have been fifty people in there, standing naked and in total silence. My nostrils filled with the high smell of butchered flesh and I looked at the walls. All were hung with animals that had recently been killed, their blood and entrails staining the wood and the floor below. Some were small-dogs, raccoons, rabbits-and others bulky-cows and pigs. There were even birds-hawks with their wings stretched out-and an alligator with its jaws pointing downward. The place was a charnel house in the making.
I was put in a chair at the front with guards holding a shotgun on either side, both dressed. That cut down my room for maneuver substantially-I had been considering lashing out at their bare groins. I could only hope they would be distracted by the proceedings. I looked to the front and was immediately distracted myself. There were three inverted crosses standing up from heaps of stones. Quincy was hanging from the one on my left, and a woman with her head in a sack was on the right. Both were naked and bore the signs of beating. The central cross was empty, but beside it was a coffin, its lid propped on one side. I felt my mouth go dry. Who was the box meant for?
Suddenly the faithful started screaming and wailing. The noise was deafening and I looked to my right. Even though I’d seen the masks before, when I’d been in the camp in Maine, they still made me jerk back in horror. The tall man who had appeared first, naked and with a large erection, had the head of a hyena, the pelt a greasy orange shade and the jaws studded with vicious teeth. He was slashing left and right with a short whip. To his rear came a figure in a black cloak with the head of the ugliest gargoyle imaginable, the features crushed and twisted and the eyes bulging, as if it had been pounded with a heavy hammer. The pair moved onto the raised platform in front of the inverted crosses.
Hyena-Head faced the faithful. ‘In the beginning was the Master’s word,’ Rothmann’s voice cried, ‘and the Master’s word was Lucifer!’
The crowd went even wilder.
Twenty-Four
Rudi Crane was at the top of the control tower of the Hercules Solutions facility known as Cedar Fort, fifty miles south of Columbus, Ohio. Although night had fallen, he was watching the exercise below with thermal optic glasses. His instructors had set the Arab troops a pretty straightforward task-the storming of a sparsely occupied bunker-and so far they were making quite a mess of it. The swarthy colonel to his left was puffing and blowing in disgust. Crane would have liked to see him take command on the ground, but that wasn’t the corpulent officer’s style. Only blanks were being fired, which was just as well-live rounds would have reduced the attackers to a handful.
Swinging the binoculars to his right, Crane picked up the faint glow of lights in the distance. The nearest town, not much more than a general store and a few rundown houses, was nearly ten miles to the west. On the other sides, the fort was surrounded by Wayne National Forest. His contacts in the Pentagon had provided Hercules Solutions with access to different kinds of terrain in and around the forest, making Cedar Fort the world’s most attractive destination for armed forces and police departments requiring specialized training. That access was still guaranteed, despite the government’s cooler approach to the company. The men in suits had to react to public pressure, largely stirred up by busybodies and unelected organizations. Deep down, they knew how essential the company was to national security.
The crackle of automatic weapons fire died down. Rudi Crane looked back at the compound below. Smoke was drifting over a lot of immobile forms. The Arab troops had been told they were all dead.
‘Exercise over,’ a clipped voice said in his earpiece. ‘Attackers neutralized.’
‘Your men are enthusiastic,’ Crane commented to the colonel, who was struggling to contain his rage.
‘They have disgraced the uniform of our country,’ the heavy man said, stamping the floor with one of his highly polished boots. ‘I will send them back immediately.’
‘Don’t do that, Colonel. Give us three days. I guarantee they will improve beyond recognition. But you must turn them over to my people for the whole of that time.’
Like most of his Middle Eastern customers, the colonel had refused to allow that when they arrived-he wanted to retain command. They all came around, after they’d seen how useless their men were when confronted by true professionals. Of course, the colonel would have to be otherwise occupied-Hercules Solutions had operatives who could meet any demand.
Crane went over to the elevator, after pointing the customer in that direction. He didn’t need to have personal contact with the commanders, given that he knew the men who ran their countries well. He preferred to handle business this way, though-it showed his personal commitment to every deal and detail. The money paid by oil-rich rulers fearful for their survival in the modern, terrorist-ridden world made everything worthwhile.
The elevator was met at ground level by two female Hercules employees.
Crane had already ascertained where the colonel’s tastes lay. Both women wore camouflage jackets and skirts, the latter reaching only halfway down their thighs. He was sure that the fat man’s wife-or wives-had to cover themselves from head to toe when they left their homes. The colonel obviously thought he was in some version of paradise.
He went down to the command post and swiped the security lock to his office. Even though it was nearly seven, his secretary was still at her desk outside. He had brought Joanna with him from Georgia when he moved his business and family up to Ohio ten years ago. He knew his wife had been suspicious, but she didn’t have the nerve to complain. Not that there had ever been anything between Crane and the buxom Joanna. He was serious about his marriage vows-they were an integral part of his religious beliefs. He wasn’t one of those preachers who lied and cheated, or so he told himself every day.
Rudi Crane logged on to his computer and bypassed the Hercules Solutions network. He wanted to know what was going on down in Texas. It was time he had a report. But the secure site he accessed had no new messages, and that bothered him. He felt a stir of unease. One or other of his people should have been in touch by now.
There was only one thing to do. Rudolf Maximilian Crane got down on his knees and prayed.
The noise in the hall was deafening-wailing, chanted words, screaming. Weird music was coming from speakers hung on the walls between the animal corpses. It sounded like the cries the unfortunate creatures would have made as they stared death in the face, synthesizers and electric guitars producing a cacophony that might have raised the devil. Which, no doubt, was exactly the impression the Master was aiming at. It was working, too. The naked faithful were swaying like trees in a hurricane, their arms outstretched and their flesh shaking. Given the age of many celebrants, I chose to look to the front instead.
What I saw there was no better. Hyena-Head had started lashing Quincy’s chest with his whip. I tried to get to my feet, but was immediately restrained by the guards flanking me. The figure in the gargoyle mask was concentrating on the woman, touching the breasts that were hanging toward her face. I had a feeling that it was Gordy Lister-the cloak was loose and too long. The bastard. At least he wasn’t hurting her though, upside down and with her head in a sack, she must have been terrified.
Hyena-Head stopped hitting Quincy, who yelled something at him. The naked man gave him several more blows for his trouble. I was glad to see the sergeant hadn’t lost his nerve, but I didn’t know how I could save him from the horror that was coming. I tried to get myself into some kind of zone, but the noise of the congregation and the stench in the air made that difficult. I stared at the empty cross, my heart thundering. Was I going to end up there, blood rushing to my head, vulnerable to anything the cult wanted to do? They hadn’t taken my clothes off yet, but that wasn’t much of a consolation.