The Third Seal

by Sean Deville

  After those magazines were empty, he would have to improvise, but his training would hopefully prevent him landing in such a situation.

  The clothes he wore looked normal, but had special protective linings that could stop knives and small calibre bullets. He would still be injured should anyone shoot or stab him, but the skin wouldn’t be penetrated. A bruise and a cracked rib were a lot easier to work with than a gaping chest wound. When he was on an active hunt, the defences he wore were more formidable, as were the weapons he would carry. Every situation required a different approach.

  There was always the unpredictable, though. No plan was ever fool proof.

  This wasn’t the first hotel room he had broken into. Hotels often made great acclaim to the security features they offered, but the majority of their rooms could be breached with little effort by anyone who knew what they were doing. Only the naive would leave their valuables behind the so-called safety of a locked hotel door.

  When the elevator door opened on the top floor, Aadam found the corridor deserted, which pleased him. Removing the fire key, he let the doors close as he stepped onto plush carpet that was free of visible stains. There was a staleness to the air, though the foul stench of demonic depravity was absent. This was the aroma of humanity, lingering due to the lack of natural ventilation in the corridor. Aadam wouldn’t add to it, the deodorant he wore was deliberately bland so as not to attract any kind of attention.

  If he met with resistance up here, no doubt it would be merely the human kind. He had yet to meet a man or woman he couldn’t deal with.

  His hack of the hotel computer had also revealed Jonah’s hotel room number. Because the whole floor had been booked under Jonah’s name, the other rooms up here were either empty or being used by those in Jonah’s entourage, thus decreasing the chances of unwanted interruptions during his break in.

  Stopping outside Jonah’s room, he put his ear against the door. There were no obvious sounds inside, the Do Not Disturb sign a demand he would ignore. If Jonah did indeed have an entourage, they would likely all be downstairs basking in their fake Messiah’s majesty. After the speech, once the crowds flocked, those associated with Jonah would share in the glory. Aadam had hours yet before Jonah would be returning to this room.

  Knocking lightly, he waited for someone to answer. Nobody did.

  Aadam placed a small box against the door’s card reader. This hotel used the Vision by VinCard card locking system which provided adequate security for the beleaguered traveller, but not when faced with the toys created by the technological wizards who supplied the Inquisition. The box easily bypassed the lock, a green LED flash indicating it had found and sent the appropriate RFID frequency. The lock disengaged, and Aadam stepped inside as quietly as he could.

  The hotel suite was exactly as Aadam expected it. Huge, and displaying unnecessary luxury. Everything was either gold, oak, marble, glass or chrome, no signs of wear and tear visible anywhere. Ample light came from a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrored windows that looked out across the Las Vegas strip. The room was designed for neatness, with little in the way of clutter or unnecessary furniture. The signs of disarray had been created by the present owners, a blood trail leading from the main door over to one of the bathrooms. Someone had made an attempt to clean up the blood, but it was haphazard, the evidence still there for the trained eye. He followed the trail inside the bathroom, where there was more blood in the sink and the bath.

  Had someone been killed in here?

  Whatever had happened, there was no body visible. Either the owner of the blood had walked out under their own steam, or had been carried out in a box. No ambulance had been called, because that amount of blood could only be created by violence, which would have meant a police response. That would have turned the room into a crime scene. The days when the police could be easily paid to look the other way were long gone.

  Moving back into the main living area, the table by the leather sofa was covered in bundles of hundred-dollar bills, as well as evidence of a selection of the choicest illegal narcotics. Weed, half-snorted lines of cocaine, topped off with a dizzying array of pills. Aadam wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

  The two severed fingers were a surprise. They were more evidence that violence had occurred here. The fingers were thick and calloused, undoubtedly male and had the appearance of having been ripped off rather than sliced. Whilst a hotel such as this might be willing to turn a blind eye to some of the nefarious antics of a rich guest, there would be certain lines that normally couldn’t be crossed. For an average visitor, assault and murder would be one of those lines. Vegas wasn’t a mob town any more. It was run by corporations who had reputations and gambling licences to protect, so most criminal actions would be reported.

  Despite all that, it was clear that Jonah could act with impunity up here which meant he was somehow important and connected to whoever owned the hotel.

  Carefully, Aadam picked up one of the fingers. There was no mistaking the hint of sulphur that still lingered. Only one such as he would be able to detect it, the demonic taint invisible to most human senses. Had the demon he witnessed in the hotel foyer yesterday been responsible for this? That meant the digits had been removed nearly twenty-four hours ago. Why had they not been cleaned away?

  Aadam deduced that Jonah was delusional and psychotic, as well as having a special arrangement with the hotel owners. That might be a further clue, another thread that could be unravelled. Jonah didn’t seem to worry that room service would find the evidence of these crimes. A card hanging from the door’s room handle was no real defence against such an intrusion, so specific instructions had been issued—and followed. By logical progression, that also meant Jonah had no concerns about falling foul of hotel security. Aadam further deduced Jonah had powerful people watching over him, friends only a fool would cross…or an Inquisitor on the hunt.

  It was natural to assume that the demon who had visited this suite was in some way connected to those powerful friends.

  The sound of muffled tears suddenly floated out of one of the bedrooms. They were female in origin, an adult in distress. Withdrawing his gun from its holster, he screwed on the suppressor. It wouldn’t eliminate the sound of gunfire, but it would reduce it enough that nobody in the hotel would hear the shots. That was all Aadam needed.

  The crying was coming from the suite’s master bedroom and Aadam headed there immediately. It was as ornate as the living area, a four-poster bed dominating the centre of the room. Tied spread-eagled to the bed was a woman. She was naked, catching Aadam in a terrified glance. Aadam barely looked at her at first. Instead he surveyed the room, the woman’s clothes piled by one of the bed’s feet. The clothes looked shredded, as if they had been cut off and made useless. The stink of urine hit him but he didn’t recoil.

  Nothing good had happened in this room. Moving closer he pulled the gag from her mouth.

  “Please, don’t hurt me anymore.” Her face was bruising up, blood from where the skin had broken crusted across her lower lip. One of her eyes was partly shut from the swelling. There was nothing voluntary about this, but Aadam knew better than to instantly leap to her rescue.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “Didn’t Jonah send you?” She seemed confused. The idea that someone could be here to rescue her didn’t seem to register.

  “Why would Jonah send me?” Aadam took a step back from her.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever Jonah wants from now on.” She was almost hysterical, her words distorted by the air she was trying to drag into her lungs. Aadam shifted over to the other side of the bed, the woman trying to pull away.

  “Jonah didn’t send me. Did he do this?” The woman seemed to hesitate, finally nodding. Such brutality didn’t shock Aadam. He’d witnessed and done far worse himself.

  “Please…” she begged.

  “Are you asking to be released?” Aadam felt no compassion for the woman. Compassion was a weakness that could get you
killed. Whilst what had been done to this person was horrific, such things happened thousands of times every day. To be effective, an Inquisitor had to be cold and detached. Some would accuse them of being unfeeling, almost robotic, but it was the way to survive in this world.

  When Inquisitors started to care, and it did happen, it was invariably the end of them.

  “Oh God, yes,” she screeched. “Cut me loose, please.” Aadam sat down on the bed, the gun resting on the soiled sheets, its muzzle pointed towards the bound woman. The flesh of her breasts and abdomen was red with lines and dark with shattered blood vessels. She’d been beaten across her body, the thick red welts the result of the electrical cable that lay menacingly by her feet.

  Whoever had done this had tortured her with a long and prolonged whipping. The skin would heal, but it would be weeks before the flesh was right again. The mind though, that would take a lot longer.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kacey.”

  “Well Kacey, my help will require your cooperation.” He ignored her look of desperate vulnerability.

  “Anything, just please…”

  “Tell me about Jonah.”

  That clearly wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I can’t, he’ll kill me.”

  “That looks like it will happen anyway, Kacey.” Anyone willing to inflict such barbarity could easily take the next step. Sometimes that would be accidental, but usually this sort of assault led up like a crescendo toward death.

  “You don’t understand,” the woman insisted.

  “I think I do. You have somehow upset a man you shouldn’t have upset. Your fear of him has been increased by this recent brutality.”

  “Please, you need to get me out of here.”

  “And then what, Kacey?”

  “I…”

  “Once I cut you loose, where will you go?”

  “I don’t know,” she sobbed.

  “Let me tell you what I see. I see a woman who made the choice to enter Jonah’s circle of influence. He gave you things, promising the world, and all the while he was buying your soul.” The shoes Kacey was still wearing were worth several hundred dollars.

  “I thought Jonah would look after me.”

  “And now you know the truth. So, I will ask again, where will you go?”

  “I have no one,” Kacey whispered.

  “Then why should I cut you free? You will only end up back here.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Kacey implored. Whatever illusion she may have had about being rescued, this obviously wasn’t it. “I’m never coming back here.”

  “Kacey. You are a victim. You’ve always been a victim. My help comes with a price.” Aadam lifted the gun and placed the muzzle gently against Kacey’s abdomen.

  “My God, you’re just like them.”

  “No,” Aadam said, shaking his head. “I’m worse.” Before Kacey could answer, they were interrupted by the door to the hotel room opening. Aadam tensed, instantly alert.

  “Kacey, honey,” a man’s thick southern accent said from the suite’s living area. “Daddy’s home. Are you ready to have some more fun?”

  “Excuse me a moment,” Aadam said calmly. He left the bedroom, gun at his side. The man who entered was the same guard who had watched Kane rip his friend’s ears off the day before. One of Jonah’s groupies, he had clearly returned to continue abusing the captive woman. A man like that wouldn’t go behind Jonah’s back, so the impending rape would likely have the fake saviour’s blessing.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the man demanded.

  “Nobody of any worth,” Aadam replied, before shooting the man in the forehead. Aadam stood and waited for several seconds, listening for a cry of alarm. If there were more people outside, they would reveal themselves by their actions. Nobody did. The man was here alone, his lust and his sadism his undoing.

  So that was who Jonah was. Presently on stage preaching about the love of Jesus Christ, but actually a sadistic sociopath. Those around him were either weak sycophants or they were similarly afflicted with the vilest traits that humans could adopt. Just the sort of people a demon might associate with. The picture was becoming clearer.

  “Sorry about that, Kacey,” Aadam said, returning to the room.

  “You shot him?” Why was she so surprised? What did she think he was going to do?

  “I can help you, Kacey,” Aadam promised, “but you are going to have to help me first.” Placing the gun on a side table, Aadam considered slicing through the bindings holding Kacey’s feet. Instead, he partially untied her as he figured it would give credence to the scenario of the woman freeing herself.

  He didn’t free her wrists yet, but this at least allowed Kacey to scoot her body up the bed. To add to her reassurance, he found a bathrobe hanging in the closet and draped it over her to hide her nakedness. All the while he kept a watchful eye on her feet in case she decided to suddenly lash out. She didn’t. Kacey was too busy working the cramping out of her muscles. Being tied up like that had left her legs temporarily useless.

  Lying on the soiled sheets where Kacey’s pelvis had been, were two more fingers. They had obviously slipped free in the hours since Kacey had been violated by them.

  “Tell me about the man who came to see Jonah yesterday. The one with the case.” Aadam picked up the severed ring finger and pointed it at Kacey. “I’m guessing this was his handiwork.”

  “You wouldn’t believe the things he did.”

  “You might be surprised.” Aadam threw the finger across the room in disgust. It fell by the window, and would likely increase its rate of decay in the direct sunlight there. Being on the penthouse level, Jonah had no fear of anyone being able to see into this room, especially with the mirrored glass of the windows. He had the privacy he needed. “What was his name?”

  “He called himself Kane.” Kacey looked terrified just saying the name.

  “Tell me about Kane.” He picked up his gun and unscrewed the suppressor before returning both to his concealed shoulder rig. That done, Aadam sat down at the end of the bed.

  “That fucker was pure evil. He made me…” Tears broke through, drowning the words. Aadam waited. Either the hysterics would dry themselves out or he would be forced to intervene. Finally, Kacey was able to compose herself. “The fingers. He ripped them off Pete’s hand, then told me to put them…he told me put them inside me.”

  “Unpleasant,” Aadam conceded.

  “When I said I couldn’t, Kane insisted Jonah do this to me.”

  “Why, what’s in it for Jonah?”

  “Money, and lots of it. Those bastards have been coming up here all day to take photos to send to Kane.” The anger was there which was good. People like Kacey would need that anger to have any chance of surviving what was coming. Humanity was like a damsel tied to the rail tracks, and in the distance the freight train could be heard hurtling towards her.

  “The man I shot, was that what he was here for?”

  “Yes. That, and other things. Please free me.” Aadam didn’t. Instead he stood up and walked back into the other room. It didn’t take long to find the dead man’s phone, a cheap burner. No doubt the phone used to send its images to would be the same. Another piece in the tortuous puzzle. Aadam slipped the phone into his pocket.

  “You can’t leave me here,” Kacey shouted in desperation. Aadam didn’t intend to, but he needed to plan this all out carefully. The scene he was going to create needed to be convincing.

  Firstly, he stripped the dead man’s wallet taking nearly five hundred dollars. Next, using a knife he found in the kitchen annex, Aadam cut the trousers off the corpse exposing the groin, the limp flesh there no match for the sharpened steel. The living area had an extravagant fire place and above it Aadam wrote a single word on the white wall in blood.

  Rapist

  With his penmanship done, Aadam forced the cock and balls into the dead mouth. The justifiable revenge of an abused woman. She had worked herself loose, shot the man who was
here to rape her with a gun she’d kept hidden, and then…

  It took Aadam less than two minutes to find a suitable bag to bundle all the money on the table into, adding the five hundred to it. He left the drugs. He had another use for them. Although he didn’t have anything to do with illegal narcotics, he knew what he was looking at. Of the available pills, he took twenty and crushed them into a fine powder with the bottom of a glass, including several from a prescription bottle that had been made out to Jonah. When he was happy he had created a thin enough powder, he shifted his concoction into the same glass, making sure not to touch any of the drugs with his bare skin. From the bar in the corner of the room he added two shots of gin, finishing the mixture off with a generous portion of coke. Aadam gave it a quick stir to blend it all in.

  In the bag was close to two hundred thousand dollars.

  He returned to the bedroom, carrying the glass and the knife. The glass he put to one side for now, noticing something new. Aadam almost missed it. On the sideboard where he placed the glass, an A5 sized flyer rested innocently. It was an advertisement, announcing the religious extravaganza presently ongoing. Jonah’s name was pride of place, his humble face the largest amongst the floating heads that represented those who would be preaching. The flyer confirmed that this would be an international event, broadcast live to multiple countries.

  Looks like Jonah’s going up in the world, Aadam thought.

  With her wrists still bound, Aadam forced the knife handle into Kacey’s unwilling hand. He wore no gloves and yet would leave none of his prints behind. They had been burnt off years ago by repeated application of caustic, and very painful, acid.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Aadam said sarcastically. Returning to the living area, he left the knife embedded in the cadaver’s abdomen before returning to Kacey. He’d put the placement of her prints perfectly on the handle.