Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (20 page)

"That won't be a problem."

Chapter Fourteen

Aaron and Marina arrived back at headquarters an hour later. They went straight to Ethel's office. She had a tall stack of newspapers on her granite desk, and she was reading one as Aaron walked in.

"Catching up on the news, ma'am?" he asked.

Ethel put down her paper. "Just looking for stories that might interest us. How did it go?"

"Not great," Marina said. "We caught Hoskins off guard, so he was moderately cooperative this time. We interrogated one prisoner but only confirmed what we already knew. We did get this, though." She held up the green book entitled
Sacred Writings of Simon
. "The plan is to plant a transmitter inside and return it to the prisoner. Hoskins will let him go, and we'll follow."

"You're going to meet Hoskins again?"

"Tomorrow morning, ma'am."

Ethel frowned. "His ongoing involvement is getting dangerous for him and us."

"I agree," Marina said. "He's a good man. I hope we can avoid the usual outcome in these situations. He may attempt to arrest us tomorrow, so we'll need an escape plan."

"I'll work on it. Take the book to Edward, and have him plant the transmitter. Aaron, please stay here."

Marina nodded and left the office.

Aaron sat on an antique wooden chair which was upholstered with padded leather. The seat was a little narrower than he preferred, made for a generation of smaller people.

"I thought you might have more questions for me," she said. "About the history of the Spears? Our purpose?"

"Yes, ma'am. Simon was communicating with an 'angel' called Sraosha, the thing that killed him in the hanger. What was it, really?"

She took a deep breath. "Let me ask you a question. If God created the universe, then clearly He isn't part of the universe. He exists outside our reality, so where is He?"

"What do you mean?"

"He must be
somewhere
, right?"

"I guess so." Aaron shrugged.

"We have different names for the place where God lives. Kamal calls it the 'pre-physical potential field.' Victor calls it the 'Land of Boogie-men.'"

"Is it Heaven, ma'am?"

"There aren't angels walking on white fluffy clouds," she said, "if that's what you mean. The laws of physics don't apply there. There is no time or space. Existence is a poorly defined concept. It's impossible for our tiny human brains to imagine such a place."

"Sraosha is out there with God?"

"Apparently."

"But why would Sraosha want to kill humans?" he asked. "That's like an elephant stepping on plankton. In the big universe, we're just a tiny blip."

"God has a great interest in humans. We're extremely significant for reasons I can only guess at. His enemies have been trying to destroy us for a long, long time."

"How long have the Spears been around?"

"What we call the Gray Spear Society was founded during the last gasps of the Roman Empire," Ethel said, "but there were previous organizations. Since the dawn of human civilization, there have been special people with a divine mandate to protect the Earth. Any more questions?"

"Yes, ma'am. How did you become so fast?" He leaned forward with curiosity.

"It was a gift from God. When a member of the Society serves the Lord very well, he or she sometimes receives a supernatural ability. That's how Marina got her fingernails."

"Will that happen to me?"

She sprang vertically out of her chair, flipped over her desk, and landed behind him.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps. Be patient. I had to wait six years, and Marina had to wait seven."

"How does it happen?" He looked up at her. "God comes down from wherever and blesses you?"

"It's not that cinematic. It usually happens at times of great need, when a mission is in jeopardy."

"What about your eyes? Are those a gift too?"

She shook her head. "My eyes are a side effect of my very long career. Being a Spear eats away at your humanity like a mouse gnawing at cheese. Eventually, the holes become physically obvious."

He swallowed. He looked around the office for a way to change the subject. The display cases were full of fascinating artifacts, and no doubt each had a story attached to it. He noticed an old golf club made with a real wooden shaft and a cast iron head. The wood was scorched along its entire length.

"What happened to that golf club, ma'am?"

She stood and walked over to the display case. She gently took out the club with both hands. With a smile, she pretended to strike an invisible golf ball.

"One of my predecessors owned this," she said. "He was the
decurion
of the Chicago cell in the mid-nineteenth century. He had the bright idea to run for mayor of Chicago. His political campaign was going very well until a certain golf game."

"What happened?" Aaron said.

"Struck by lightning four times under a clear, blue sky. According to witnesses, his eyeballs actually burst out of his skull."

"Yikes."

"The Spears are God's dirty secret. We aren't part of the plan. We must remain in the dark shadows and keep to ourselves, or He will punish us. Don't ever forget that."

"Yes, ma'am."

She put the golf club away. "Let's go check on Marina and Edward."

Aaron followed her to Edward's work room. He and Marina were leaning over a steel table under an array of bright lights. He had a large magnifying glass positioned over the green book, and small clamps held open the pages.

"Are you done?" Ethel asked.

He remained focused on his work. "Just about, ma'am."

Edward gently reassembled the book. He carefully inserted staples into their original holes and bent the ends into position. He sprayed small puffs of adhesive onto yellowed pieces of tape and put them back.

"You've done this before," Aaron stated.

"Yes, sir," Edward said.

He finished his work and handed the book to Ethel. She gently flipped through the pages.

"Excellent," she said. "No sign of tampering."

"The maximum range is only a kilometer, so we have to stay close."

She gave the book back to him, and he put it into a clear plastic bag.

"What are our orders, ma'am?" Marina asked Ethel. "We don't meet Hoskins until tomorrow."

"You and Aaron can take the rest of the day off," Ethel said. "Relax, and get a good night's sleep."

"Where is Victor?" Aaron said.

"Still working the mean streets of Chicago looking for leads."

"Should we go help him?"

"I gave you an order," Ethel said sternly. "Take a break. You earned it."

"Yes, ma'am!" Marina said. "Come on, Aaron. Let's go get a beer."

He followed her out of the room.

Instead of going to the main entrance, she took him to another exit near the exercise equipment. There were two doors made of steel and thick glass with a small enclosure in between, like an airlock.

Marina talked to the ceiling. "Jack, please let us out."

There was a buzzing noise. She pulled open the first door, and Aaron went into the enclosure with her. After the first door closed, she opened the second. They proceeded into a narrow passage with concrete walls.

"What is this?" he said.

"The rear exit," she said, "in case the front door isn't an option."

"It's good to have one of those."

"And there is a third exit near your quarters at the end of the hallway."

"I thought that was a closet."

"No," she said. "It's for emergencies only. It leads to a lock-out chamber on the bottom of the Chicago River. We can escape underwater."

"Dirty, cold water," he said, "especially in the winter."

"Which is why our enemies would never expect it."

The concrete walls of the passage were cracked and patched with tar. Darkened areas indicated water damage. Apparently, they were still below the water table.

The tunnel ended at a steel ladder that was bolted to the wall. Aaron and Marina climbed up a long vertical shaft, pushed up through a trap door, and arrived in an empty closet. She closed the trap door, and it blended perfectly with the wooden floor.

"Where are we?" he said.

"An apartment," she replied softly. "Keep your voice down."

She peered through a peephole and then opened the closet door. They walked into a studio apartment, lightly furnished in a contemporary style. The walls were eggshell white.

"Does anybody live here?"

"No," she said. "Sometimes we use it as a safe house, but it's usually empty."

They left the apartment, went down a flight of stairs, and emerged onto a busy street. Aaron recognized North Wabash Avenue. Tall buildings, all at least ten stories high, rose up on both sides. The architectural styles ran the gamut from traditional brick façades with concrete moldings to sterile towers of glass and steel. Nearby, a homeless man begged for spare change from pedestrians. Further away, a train rattled along a track supported by rusty steel pillars and beams. The warm, humid air smelled of car exhaust.

"Where are we headed?" Aaron said.

Marina pointed to a restaurant named Topaz across the street. The large windows were tinted a dark yellow, and strips of pink glass framed the door. He followed her inside. She immediately went to a well stocked bar on the right side of the restaurant. The interior glittered with yellow, pink, and brown crystals lit from all angles by concealed lights. It was still early in the evening, so the place was quiet. The patrons who were present wore nice suits and dresses.
Lawyers, bankers, and their girlfriends
, Aaron thought.

He patted his pants pockets. "Uh, I just realized. I don't have any money or credit cards. I lost it all when Alex Dempster got stuffed into a garbage can."

"That's OK," Marina said. "I got it covered."

They sat at the bar. She laid down a credit card with the name Gretchen Stableford.

"Good old Gretchen," he said. "Always ready to buy a round or two for her friends."

She nodded. "She's very generous. What's your pleasure?"

He looked at the shelves full of expensive liquor. "Let's have some fun."

"Not too much fun." She gave him a look. "Ethel doesn't like it when her people get drunk. We're never really off duty."

"Then we'll sip, not gulp. Let's see... that Highland Park Scotch looks very sip-able."

They called the bartender over. He told them a shot from that particular bottle cost eighty dollars. Aaron gasped in horror, but Marina didn't hesitate when she ordered two shots.

He took a small sip of his drink. The flavor was a mix of honey and wood smoke, but not too sweet. It stayed on his tongue for a long time. He drank the rest eagerly.

"Smooth," he said.

"Yes, it's very nice," she said, "but I'm more of a traditional vodka girl. Bartender, let's try a little of that Stolichnaya Elit."

Two more shots were poured, this time for a mere twenty dollars each. Still, it was a lot more than Aaron was accustomed to paying for his liquor.

The vodka had a delicate flavor with hints of vanilla, sugar, cream, and a touch of spice. It was so easy to drink he finished his shot in a single pull.

"One more," Marina said, "then we quit."

"Oh, come on. The party just got started."

"We have to stay sharp. We're in the middle of a mission. You get the last pick."

He furrowed his brow. "In that case, I see a dusty bottle of Courvoisier Cognac that looks like it needs some love. The blue and red label is certainly unusual. Bartender, two shots, please."

The bartender, a middle-aged man in a tuxedo, raised his eyebrows. "That Cognac is a hundred dollars a shot, sir."

Aaron cleared his throat.

"Go ahead," Marina said.

The bartender poured.

Aaron took tiny sips of his drink to make it last as long as possible. The dominant flavor was fine champagne, but there were delicious hints of fruit. As it went down, he also detected vanilla, more in his nose than on his tongue.

"Wow," he said. "That's good, but I'm not sure if it's a hundred dollars worth of good. I'm glad Gretchen was buying."

Marina paid the bill, and they left the restaurant. The sun was setting, but the air was still warm and humid.

A series of loud popping noises made Aaron jump. Several teenagers ran past with smiles on their faces.

"Firecrackers," Marina said. "The Fourth of July."

"Oh, right." He nodded. "This weekend."

"Hmm. Large crowds and families with children. A perfect target for a terrorist attack?"

"If you're right, we're running out of time."

She grimaced. "We'll worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, we're under orders to relax, and I intend to follow those orders."

"How about a movie?" he said.

"Sure. I have a few rentals back at my apartment that I need to watch."

"You don't want to go to a movie theater?"

"Sitting in a dark room with hundreds of strangers is not my idea of relaxation. I get antsy in crowds. Let's go to my place where we can be ourselves and speak freely. I'll even cook you dinner."

"Really?" He smiled. "Are you a good cook?"

"I'm terrible," she said, "but the food will be full of good intentions."

"Sounds delicious."

They walked several blocks south and came to a twenty-story building with a classic limestone and cement façade. It had a certain charm, even though pollution had made the exterior dingy. It was surrounded by clean, modern architecture.

A doorman nodded to Marina, obviously recognizing her, and she rewarded him with a cheerful smile. She and Aaron entered an elevator which needed to be unlocked with a key card. They went up to the eleventh floor. Her apartment was at the end of a pale green hallway. Her door had three deadbolt locks that required three different keys. After they went inside, she carefully relocked all three bolts. The door was made of painted metal instead of wood.

"You're serious about security," Aaron said.

"When I'm home, I like to feel safe. There are also a few booby-traps, so don't wander off and peek in my drawers. Just stay with me."