Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (29 page)

"It will make you relaxed and cooperative," Ethel said.

Brittany squirmed, but with her hands still cuffed, she didn't accomplish much.

Marina drove off.

"Where are we going?" Brittany said.

"Someplace private," Ethel said. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"Go rot in Hell. I'm not talking to you."

"Simon had a secret plan. He wanted to blow something up. Tell us what you know."

Brittany clenched her jaw and glared silently.

"That's fine." Ethel leaned back. "I'll ask again in a few minutes."

Aaron shifted in his seat. He dreaded what was coming next, but he knew of no better alternative. They needed answers
now
. The deadline, with strong emphasis on
dead
, was just hours away.

They arrived at a small meat packing plant in northern Chicago. It was closed for the holiday, so they had the whole facility to themselves. Ethel used a key to open a back door, and the entire group went inside.

The interior of the plant had long assembly lines—actually, disassembly lines—where large animals were chopped, cut, and packaged. Everywhere Aaron looked, he saw sharp blades attached to complicated machinery. The metal surfaces were polished and spotless, but the odor of rotting meat still lingered in the air. The stubborn expression on Brittany's face was replaced by fear.

"What are we doing here?" she said hesitantly.

Nobody answered.

She tried to run, but Ethel tripped her before she could take two steps. Brittany fell hard on the concrete, unable to protect herself with her hands bound. Ethel jerked her back to her feet.

They proceeded to a large freezer in the back of the slaughterhouse. The freezer was currently empty of meat, but many steel hooks hung from the ceiling. The frigid air turned their breath to fog. There was a bathtub filled with water on the floor.

"Do you feel like talking yet?" Ethel said.

Brittany shook her head but not with enthusiasm.

Ethel grabbed her arms, and Marina grabbed her feet. Brittany struggled with all her strength without much success. Ethel and Marina dropped the girl into the bathtub of water. Brittany splashed around for several seconds before she managed to get her head above water. She gasped for air.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she screamed. "That's cold!"

She tried to climb out, but Ethel shoved her back under. Finally, Ethel allowed the girl to keep her head and chest out of the water. She knelt in the tub with her hands cuffed behind her back, shivering and miserable.

"Hypothermia," Ethel said. "It's horrible, isn't it?"

Brittany gritted her teeth.

"And it's a relatively safe form of torture. A healthy teenager like you could spend an hour in that freezing water without suffering real harm."

"You bitch!" Brittany cried.

"Feel free to start talking any time."

Nobody spoke as they watched the girl suffer for a few minutes. Aaron desperately wanted to leave the room, but he knew Ethel wouldn't approve. He had to be strong.

Brittany swallowed as if nauseous. "I don't feel good," she muttered.

"The injection must be working," Ethel said.

"What did you give her, ma'am?" Aaron said.

She looked at him. "Rohypnol, ketamine, mescaline, and a few others substances. I invented the recipe years ago. I call it the 'cocktail of nightmares.' I don't like to use drugs, but with so little time left, we can't mess around." She turned her attention back to Brittany. "Now, I'll ask again. Simon had a secret plan. What is it?"

Brittany shook her head with a clumsy jerking motion. Her skin was so pale, it was almost blue.

"That water must be very, very cold," Ethel said in a suggestive tone. "Like a thousand tiny teeth biting at your skin. Can you see the teeth in the water? Swirling around... hungry... so white... so sharp..."

Brittany's eyes grew wide. Her breathing became fast and violent. Suddenly, she let out a scream of terror. Aaron could tell she was having a horrifying hallucination. She thrashed around in a desperate attempt to climb out of the tub, but Marina held her down.

"I can take the teeth away," Ethel whispered in the girl's ear.

"Please..." Brittany whimpered.

"Tell us about Simon."

The girl's teeth rattled together. She seemed to find fresh strength and remained silent.

"Did you notice all the hooks above us?" Ethel said. "Hundreds of them. They're coming down now, reaching towards you. The needle-sharp points are piercing your flesh. They're digging into your muscles and organs like hungry, steel parasites. Slowly, you're being ripped apart..."

Brittany's eyes rolled in her head like a terrified animal. She tried to scream again, but it stuck in her throat. Ethel allowed the torment to go on and on. Brittany thrashed so hard she almost tipped the bathtub over.

Finally, Ethel said, "Shhh... It's all right now. You're safe. I can help you, but you have to help me first."

The girl sobbed uncontrollably. She made inarticulate noises as if she had forgotten how to form words. Ethel helped her out of the tub, removed the handcuffs, and laid her on the frosted floor in a fetal position. Ethel stroked Brittany's hair to calm her down.

"Talk to me," Ethel whispered.

"Simon never told me his plan," Brittany pleaded in a raspy voice. "I don't know anything!"

"You want to go home, don't you?"

"Yes!"

"Then tell me something useful, or we'll put you back in the water."

"No, no, no." Brittany vomited onto the floor as convulsions ran up and down her entire body.

"Talk."

"We just had sex. Nothing else!"

"I've been with enough men," Ethel said. "There is always something else."

Brittany squeezed her eyes shut. "Papers..."

"What about 'papers?'"

"In a special apartment in Chicago, where Simon takes his favorite girls. He calls it his 'oasis of love.' That's where we had sex. He keeps his secret papers there."

Ethel leaned in. "Where, exactly?"

"The Spire. Number 5333."

"Very good." Ethel carried a service pistol as part of her police costume. She stood up and handed the gun to Aaron. "Shoot her."

"What, ma'am?" he said.

"She's an ally of those who would burn this world, a tool of God's enemies. She's unfit to live any longer."

"But..." The gun felt heavy in his hand.

"That's an order. Pull the trigger, so we can go."

Aaron glanced at Marina but saw no compassion on her face. Then he looked down at Brittany, who had drifted off to her private realm of nightmares. The girl mumbled incoherently and blinked very often, unaware that her life was almost at an end. Aaron loaded a bullet into the gun's chamber.

"Hurry up," Ethel said. "Nobody will hear. We're completely alone."

He realized that more was at stake than the girl's life. If he refused the order, Ethel would probably kill him on the spot, and then Brittany would still die. He couldn't fool himself into thinking he had a chance against Ethel in a fight. Shooting Brittany was the only rational choice.

However, Aaron had never performed a cold-blooded execution, and the victim in this case hardly deserved such a poor death. She was just a very confused teenager who had been seduced by a very bad man.

This is my initiation rite
, he realized.
My chance to prove I have the strength and discipline to be a real Spear. Here is where I make my bones.

Or I fail and die.

"Tick, tock," Ethel said. "Tick, tock."

Ethel is the commander of this team. I have to trust her judgment, even if I don't understand it. She has the most experience. She knows what's best.

Aaron aimed at Brittany's head and started pulling the trigger. An instant before the gun fired, it was taken from his hand. The move was impossibly fast. He looked over and saw Ethel holding the weapon.

"Why?" he said.

She smiled. "We're not complete monsters. You pass the test. Jack, are you out there?"

Their head of security walked into the freezer. He wore blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a leather jacket. "Right here."

"Clean up in here and take the girl to a hospital. She won't give you any trouble. She'll be delirious for several hours."

"What if the police question her, ma'am?"

"Not a problem." Ethel waved her hand. "The drugs cause amnesia. The whole day will be a complete blank for her. Aaron, Marina, come with me."

She walked quickly out of the freezer and back onto the main floor of the meat packing plant. Aaron and Marina jogged to keep up with her.

"That was cruel," Aaron said.

Ethel shrugged. "You're a rookie. It's my responsibility to test you."

"If I had refused the order, would you have killed me?"

"Let's not dwell on the negative."

"Will there be more tests?" he asked.

"For us, every day is a test," she said. "Now, hurry up. Both of you have to get over to the Spire after dropping me off at headquarters."

"You're not coming with us, ma'am?"

"You two can handle the next part without me."

Chapter Twenty-one

Aaron looked up, way up, at the world famous Chicago Spire. At 150 stories tall, it was the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere. Clad in glass and polished steel, it curved and twisted along its entire length, reminding some people of a gigantic "drill bit." The architect, Santiago Calatrava, had been inspired by the organic form of a sea shell. The structure was as much art as architecture, a complete break from the generic boxes and rectangles of other skyscrapers.

"Nice place," Aaron said.

"Yes," Marina said. "I guess Simon didn't spend all the money on his terrorist plan. He kept a little for his own pleasure."

They had changed into outfits appropriate for evidence collection. Once again, she was Gretchen Stableford, FBI agent, and she wore a conservative blue business suit. Aaron had assumed the identity of an evidence technician named Joseph Biondo. It was a cover that Victor had used, but he didn't need it anymore, and Edward had been too busy to create another for Aaron. Wearing the Biondo identity felt a little like wearing the clothes of a dead man.

They went inside and walked to the security desk. Marina presented her FBI badge to the security guards along with appropriate search warrants, photos, and other forged papers. It had taken almost an hour for Edward to prepare the documentation back at headquarters, time that the team could ill-afford to spend, but there was no alternative. At least it had given Aaron and Marina an opportunity to eat, change clothes, and rehearse their cover stories.

The search warrant was convincing enough that the guards only skimmed it. The on-duty head of security, a big African-American man named Rogers, took Marina and Aaron up to the fifty-third floor of the building. The elevator ride was so swift Aaron felt the pressure change in his ears.

Roger used his master key to let Marina and Aaron into suite 5333, and the three of them went in together. Aaron quickly walked through the small condo to learn the layout. The kitchen, bedroom, and living area were combined into a single large room with a glass window wall. The floor plan was in the shape of a pie slice with a truncated point.

He went to the glass and looked out at a spectacular, unobstructed view of glittering Lake Michigan. Thousands of boats were moving across the water under the hot sun. He had never seen so many at once.

"Very nice," he muttered.

Then he continued his quick survey. Aside from some large closets, the only other room was a bathroom. He had stayed in hotels with bigger suites than this one.

The place was barely furnished, and there was no art on the walls. The kitchen had a refrigerator but no oven or dishwasher. Clearly, Simon hadn't spent a lot of time here.

"How long will this take?" Rogers asked.

"You can leave if you want," Marina said. "No reason for you to hang around."

"No, I'll stay."

Aaron carried an evidence collection kit as part of his disguise. He opened it and took out latex gloves, which both he and Marina put on.

The obvious place to start searching was a desk in the main room. It was made of solid oak planks covered with clear lacquer, and the ends of the planks were rough cut. Dowels and glue held the desk together instead of nails, but the joints were still tight and solid. Clearly, the desk had been built by a skilled craftsman.

Aaron started going through the drawers. He found just a few papers, which included the warranty for the refrigerator and the purchase agreement for the condominium. None of it seemed interesting. There was a pair of high-power binoculars in the bottom drawer, which puzzled Aaron. Perhaps Simon had used them to look out at the lake. Marina helped with the search but found nothing else.

"You check the bed," she said. "I'll work on the closets."

There was a nightstand beside the bed. Aaron opened the drawers and discovered a variety of sex toys including dildos, vibrators, and a set of fuzzy handcuffs. He dutifully examined the collection to make sure he missed nothing, even though it was repugnant.

Then he attacked the bed itself. All the sheets and blankets came off. He looked between and under the mattresses without finding anything.

The search continued, and with each tick of the clock, Aaron's frustration increased. He could feel the weight of time pressing down on him like a ton of bricks.

Finally, he and Marina conferred in the main room.

"A dead end?" he said.

"It better not be." She frowned. "I'm sure Brittany didn't lie. The secret papers must be here somewhere."

Rogers approached and said, "Are you done, yet? Can we leave now?"

She jabbed him in the neck with her black fingernails. His eyes opened wide, he stumbled backwards, and then he slumped to the floor. He was still breathing.

"That's better," she said. "I was tired of him watching us."

Aaron walked over to the glass wall for another look outside. The spectacular view included all of Navy Pier, less than half a mile away. Over the years the Pier had grown into the top tourist destination in the entire Midwest. The 50-acre complex was a Chicago landmark, which included shops, restaurants, a small amusement park, gardens, a children's museum, an IMAX theater, several stages, and even a convention center. Large ships lined the side of the Pier, ready to take tourists on pleasure cruises. The giant Ferris wheel, big enough for 40 gondolas, turned slowly in the center of the amusement park. Even from this distance, Aaron could see thick crowds everywhere, slow moving rivers of human bodies. The middle of summer was the busiest time of the year for the Pier.