Cult of Crime

by Franklin W. Dixon

  He was the Rajah.

  “Him,” said a girl’s voice. She was partly hidden in the shadows of the house, but her delicate hand was visible in the light from the window as she pointed at the bus.

  The Rajah looked out at Frank Hardy, who was surrounded by the cheerful cultists. “You know him?”

  Holly Strand stepped out of the shadows. Her long auburn hair fell freely down her back, and her slender face was marred, only by the sadness in her eyes. “His name is Frank Hardy,” she said emotionlessly. “I grew up with him. His father’s a detective or something. “

  The Rajah stroked his chin. “The one who came around, asking questions about you, yes. And now his son … “

  Suddenly he swept Holly into his arms and held her close, pressing her head against his chest. His reddish brown beard blended into Holly’s hair, the two colors matching perfectly. His eyes were raised upward, and tears formed at the edges of them. “Of all these, you are my favorite, Yami. All these have come to me, but you alone I sought. ” “I know, Great Rajah. Thank you.”

  “Then” for what youre about to do, you are forgiven,” he continued. “Go, and make sure he doesn’t see you until the proper time.” He released her, and she backed away, pressing her fingers against her tear streaked cheeks. “I don’t want to go,” she sobbed.

  “Go,” he said. “It is my will.” He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  In the empty room, Holly Strand felt terribly alone. Since she had come to the commune, she had been free of the terrible emotions that had always confused and troubled her. Now they flooded back, and even though she fought them, she could feel the fear and doubt.

  She clenched her-fists until her fingernails left red marks on her palms. The effort steadied her. She knew she had no right to doubt the Rajah’s plans, and now she was filled with horror at her own weakness.

  Choking back her rage, she ran from the room and out of the house, letting the back door swing wide open. She knew she must go to her lodge and pray until the Rajah needed her.

  Joe Hardy caught the door and slipped inside the Rajah’s house before letting it close.

  He was still amazed at the ease with which he had infiltrated the commune. Dressed as one of them, he had simply walked in across the fields.

  No one had batted an eye. He suspected that there was something about his outfit, taken from one of the men who attacked him on the road that identified him as a member of the Rajah’s special guard.

  Joe grinned briefly as he thought about the two gunmen. He’d dumped them in the woods off the highway with their hands and feet loosely bound. Clothes do make-or unmake-the man, he thought.

  Whatever the reason for the success of his disguise, no one had stopped or questioned him. After spotting Frank playing tetherball, he had briefly checked the lodges. There was nothing peculiar about them, he thought, except how people could stand to live in them. The farmhouse was the only building he hadn’t checked, and for a few moments, the locks had stymied him.

  Then the door had opened, and suddenly Joe was in.

  The house was not what he expected. The room that the Rajah and Holly had stood in was bare, except for what looked like a small altar in one corner and kneeling mats on the floor. It was the Rajah’s private temple, barren and austere.

  But in the next, soundproofed room Joe found a wide-screen television hooked up to a stereo videocassette recorder. A complete, state-of - the - art stereo system sat next to it. Records and videotapes were racked along an entire wall. In the middle of the room, with a good view of the TV screen and halfway between two six-foot-tall stereo speakers, was a reclining chair.

  On the wall opposite the record racks was another door, leading another room, and Joe could hear an excited Voice shouting there. He put his ear against the door and listened.

  “We’ve got a good thing going here!” the voice cried. “Why should we risk it on this fool scheme? Just throw him out. There’s nothing anyone can do to us. You know that!”

  “It is my will,” a deep, soft voice replied. It was the Rajah. “Do not question my will.”

  “Boy, you’re really getting into this godhead stuff, aren’t you?” the first voice said. “If I hadn’t found you and come up with this scam, you’d still be hustling fortunes at Fourth of July sideshows.”

  “You are wrong;” the Rajah said calmly.

  “There was no life before the Rajah, and you have always been Vivasvat.”

  Vivasvat exhaled sharply. “Mikey, Mikey,” he said. “Remember me? This is Shakey Leland you’re talking to. Okay, so we don’t kick the guy out. Let’s just kill him and bury him in the woods someplace. Nobody knows he’s here. Nobody’ll know the difference.”

  Now the Rajah’s voice grew enraged. “Get out!” he ordered. “The boy is a gift. He will soon do our bidding, and he is not to be harmed! Do not speak to me of murder.”

  “Oh, I’ll leave,” Vivasvat shouted. “But we take care of the kid my way, and don’t you dare lecture me. You’ve murdered, too, Mikey. You can call it penance or justice or divine will if you want, but it’s still murder, so spare me the Piety!”

  Suddenly the door opened, and Joe and Vivasvat stood face-to-face. Vivasvat’s lips curled with rage, and he aimed a pistol at Joe. Desperately, Joe grabbed for his own gun, the Magnum he had taken from Bobby, but Vivasvat jabbed his hand upward. The pistol butt smashed into Joe’s jaw, and he crumpled to the floor.

  Chapter 5

  THE HAZE PARTED slowly. Joe Hardy wanted to clear the mist from his eyes with a wave of his hand, but neither hand could move. He blinked instead, and the mist finally evaporated.

  Joe lay on his stomach on the floor of the stereo room. His clothes were gone, and he shivered as the temperature in the valley dipped with the dusk.

  Something scratched at his wrists, and he realized that his hands had been bound behind his back. A sandaled foot stood directly in his line of vision. The Rajah, cruel and majestic, was seated at the end of the room.

  Vivasvat reached down, grabbed Joe by the hair, and lifted his head so that their eyes met. “You’re Joe Hardy,” he said. “Don’t bother to deny it. We have your identification.”

  “Ask the young man why he is here,” the Rajah commanded. “Does he intend to help his brother?”

  Joe’s mouth dropped open. He knows, he thought. He knows the whole plan. Joe shut his mouth and glared at the cult leader, uncertain of what to say.

  The Rajah stood and strode across the room, standing so tall that his feet seemed not to touch the ground. “You don’t want your brother to join us, do you?”

  Joe sighed with relief and stifled a chuckle. “That’s right,” he said. “I came to get Frank out of here.”

  A grim smile came to the Rajah’s lips, and Joe suddenly knew he had made a mistake. He could tell from the Rajah’s satisfied expression that they hadn’t known for sure if he and Frank were brothers. He had just confirmed it for them.

  “What’re we wasting time with this mook for?” Vivasvat said. “He’s seen our operation. He knows about the security guards. I say we get rid of him.”

  “Enough,” the Rajah commanded. “Send someone for the van he was driving, and bring it to the commune.” To Joe, he said, “You have sinned against my law. The commune meets tonight to welcome your brother to our number. Did I mention he has asked to join us? - and they shall decide your punishment.”

  “Great,” Joe said.

  “Shut up, creep.” Vivasvat put his mouth next to Joe’s ear and very softly continued, “Say anything to anyone about what you’ve heard here today, and I’ll kill you on the spot. Got it?” Joe nodded.

  “They may decide to let you go,” the Rajah said. “In any case, you won’t be with us much longer.” The Rajah left the room, laughing coldly.

  She appeared in the doorway of the lodge, a thin silhouette framed against the growing bonfire outside. Frank stared at her, mystified by her sudden appearance, but Kadji’s eyes bulged in h
orror.

  “You can’t come in here, Yami,” Kadji croaked, his voice sticking in his throat. “Only men are allowed in the men’s lodge.”

  “Then send Frank out;” she said. “I want to see him before he … before he joins us.”

  Kadji shook his head fiercely. “I’m responsible for him. If anything happens - “

  “It won’t,” she replied. “Please.” She looked at Frank with mournful, lonely eyes.

  “Can’t we please talk for a few minutes, Frank?”

  Frank sat on the edge of his cot, staring at her. He had bathed in preparation for the festival and had just begun to dress when she appeared. “It’s all right,” he told Kadji. “I’ll be back in time for the name giving.” He slipped on a tunic.

  “He’s your responsibility, Yami,” Kadji called bitterly as Frank reached the lodge door.

  “Yours!” He was still muttering as Frank took Holly’s hand, and they stepped into the cool mountain night.

  “Do I call you Yami?” Frank asked after they had walked some distance. The bonfires were far behind them, though Frank and Holly were still on commune land. Above them, the stars were clearer than Frank had ever seen them. There were hundreds, perhaps millions, more than could be seen from New York City or even from Bayport, because there were no other lights to blot them out. Frank felt as if he were walking under the very roof of heaven.

  “Call me Holly,” she answered. “I’ve waited so long to be called Holly again.” She licked her lips, hesitant to speak. Finally she said, “I’m surprised to see you, Frank. You’re the last person I’d expect to see in a place like this.”

  Frank chuckled. “Why? Didn’t you think I wanted peace? Didn’t you think I wanted somewhere to belong?”

  “I always thought you had those things. You’ were so good at sports, and girls were always running after you.”

  “After me?” he asked skeptically. “I never noticed.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “No, you were so hooked on … what’s her name? Callie Shaw?” “Callie. Huh! She was always on my case. Do this, do that, What a nag! Just like my old man. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “So you left,” she said. “I know that story. Still, I wish I’d gotten a fraction of the love and attention from my father that you got from yours.”

  They walked some more in silence, then she clutched his arm fiercely. “You’ve got to get out of here, Frank. You’re in terrible, terrible danger. “

  “What do you mean?” he asked. There was a note of disbelief in his voice, but his mind was racing, calculating the options he’d have if he were discovered.

  “It’s the Rajah. He’s cruel and ruthless. He takes perfectly sweet teenagers and twists them into merciless robots. He steals our minds, Frank. He steals our souls.”

  Frank looked at her intently for a moment. “If this place is so bad, why don’t you leave?”

  Holly bit her lip. “You don’t understand. I know too much. If I go, they’ll follow. They’ll find me and kill me. I’m safe only here.” She shuddered, and Frank took her in his arms.

  “Shhh,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you.” She sobbed against his shoulder until no more tears would come.

  “We’d better be getting back,” Frank said. But the next thing he knew, she had stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and was pulling his mouth to hers. Then she pulled away, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

  In the distance, Frank could hear the happy chants of the cultists, but it seemed that he and Holly were the only people in the world, and everything else was a dream.

  Holly looked at him anxiously. “Take me away, Frank. You can protect me.”

  He lowered his head. “We can’t talk now. We’d better be getting back,” he said, and the wind went out of her as if he had punched her in the stomach.

  As they walked back to the huts, Holly asked, “If it hadn’t been for Callie Shaw, would we have gotten together?”

  “I can’t answer that question,” Frank said carefully. She nodded and sighed, saying nothing else on the walk back.

  It wasn’t until they had reached the lodges that they noticed something had changed. When they’d left, a bonfire had been burning in front of each lodge. Now there was just one huge blaze in the midst of the lodges, in front of the Rajah’s home.

  “It’s not a name giving,” Holly said, the color draining from her cheeks. “It’s an inquisition. Someone will face the test of the flames.”

  “The test of the flames?” Frank repeated. “What’s that?”

  “Someone has betrayed us,” she replied, as if she hadn’t heard him. Then she glared at him with fear in her eyes. “I must go,” she said. Before he could speak, she ran into the darkness.

  Frank was puzzled. Holly had seemed so determined before, so anxious to be rescued. Then, when she saw the fire, awe and superstition had twisted her features into a mask of dread. It was as if she had become some other person.

  Yami, thought Frank. The Rajah’s Yami, as he named her. Is that what would happen to me if I stayed? If I wanted to stay? Is that what happens to all of them?

  Slowly he entered his lodge. For the first time, all lights were turned out, and he was surprised that Kadji wasn’t there waiting for him.

  But something was there, waiting in the darkness. Frank couldn’t see it in the gloom, but he felt its presence. It pressed against his chest keeping him from inhaling. Nothing’s there, he told himself, but terror welled up in him all the same. Nothing’s there!

  At the far end of the lodge, something moved toward him. Frank could only spot flashes of purple, glinting in the blackness. He tensed and backed away.

  “Where are you going, boy?” said a familiar voice behind him. Frank looked over his shoulder at the grim face of Vivasvat.

  “You and the girl, Yami,” said the Rajah as he stepped into the faint light from the bonfire outside. Vivasvat caught Frank’s arms in an iron grip and pinned them to his side. “Did you touch?” the Rajah asked. “No,” Frank said. “Your will - “

  “Good,” the Rajah interjected. He smiled slightly. “You were gone for some time. What did you discuss?”

  “We … ” Frank began. He thought for a moment. “Holly … Yami hates it here. She asked me to help her escape,” Frank said. “And will you?” the Rajah asked.

  “She is misguided,” Frank replied solemnly. “I came here for peace. I want you to teach me the way of peace, Master.”

  A cold chuckle burst from the Rajah’s lips. “Very good, boy. You have taken your second step toward peace, forgoing temptation and speaking the truth.” Frank gasped. “You knew?”

  “It was my will. All things are my will here.” The Rajah stepped past Frank and Vivasvat and into the night, gesturing for them to follow. Vivasvat let go of Frank’s arms.

  “You may serve me again tonight,” the Rajah said to Frank, who was following a step behind. Vivasvat hung back, staying away from them. “We have had an intruder, a devil who came to do evil. Tonight you must hold the torch of truth to him, to burn out his lies and release him to glory.” “I don’t understand,” Frank said.

  “He will be tested with flames. They will not burn the holy, but all evil things fear them. You shall hold the first torch, boy, and then I will give you your name.”

  Frank’s mouth and throat went dry as they turned a corner. The Rajah’s followers were gathered around the bonfire, each holding a torch. They stared savagely at a pole in front of the Rajah’s home. A boy was tied to it-the boy who was to face the flames. The boy was Joe Hardy.

  Chapter 6

  THE RAJAH STOOD before his followers and raised his hands in benediction. “Bless you, my children,” he said. They had been chanting loudly, but the chanting dropped to a whisper when he spoke, and they turned their eyes to the ground. Only Frank kept his eyes on the Rajah as he desperately tried to think of a plan.

  “Brothers! Sisters!” the Rajah we
nt on. He swung an arm down, pointing a long, bony finger at Joe. “We have a devil in our midst!” A hush like a breath of air passed through the crowd.

  “He comes to destroy our faith! A soul has come to us for salvation, and this devil comes to drag that soul back to the world of evil!” The cultists howled in outrage, flinging curses at Joe. “But his victim shall be his savior instead! Step up, Frank Hardy-you who will be called Vaisravana - and prove yourself worthy.”

  “Vaisravana, Vaisravana,” the cultists chanted over and over. The Rajah stepped among them and pulled a stick of wood from the bonfire. Flames crackled at one end of the stick as the Rajah held it out to Frank.

  “Take it, Vaisravana,” the Rajah said. “Take it, and burn the devil from your brother! My will is your will! My will is your will!”

  “His will is your will,” the Rajah’s followers intoned. Frank looked at them, and as he watched, their faces began to change.

  They know what’s coming, he thought, and the knowledge sickened him. They were all children, really, from homes like his and like Holly’s, but he could tell by the look in their eyes that they wanted to see blood. They played at being holy, but the ritual and the Rajah had released something in them that only blood would satisfy.

  He wanted to run, but there was nowhere he could run to. With trembling fingers, he took the fiery brand.

  Vivasvat clapped his hands, and a dozen men emerged from the throng. They formed a human corridor from Frank to Joe and stood there, legs spread and arms folded, staring at Frank. All around, he could hear dozens of voices blending into one, speaking a single Word in endless repetition. “Vaisravana, Vaisravana!”

  Quietly the Rajah said “Do it.”