by Alex Siegel
Smythe sighed. "Put the other guy back on."
After a moment, Barrichello spoke, "What should we do with this man?"
"Let him go. We can't hold him." Smythe paused. "But anonymously post his location on the internet. Use him as live bait to draw out our enemies."
Odelia pinched his chest hard.
He ignored her and continued, "And thank you for your kind help. It's very much appreciated."
"My pleasure," Barrichello said. "The warriors of God must stand together."
The call ended, and Smythe put his phone down.
"Post his location on the internet?" Odelia said. "That was cruel!"
"He violated his Hippocratic Oath and killed people. He deserves what he gets." He settled down and closed his eyes. "Let's go back to sleep. We have a meeting in headquarters bright and early."
* * *
A strange light made Neal open his eyes. He had been asleep in bed. He hadn't heard anybody open the door, and he was sensitive to the slightest noises.
He looked up at a ball of bubbling, green mist. Interior flashes made it look like a miniature thunderstorm. Occasional shafts of brilliant white light leaked out. The mist was waving back and forth as if a breeze were blowing, but the air was absolutely still.
"Lord," Neal whispered, "why have You come to me?"
"You and your legionnaires must travel to Chicago," God replied in a voice that went straight into Neal's mind.
"Why?"
"To protect the twins during the final battle. All My warriors will be there."
The magnitude of that statement slowly penetrated Neal's sleepy brain. He wondered if he were dreaming.
"All of them? The entire Gray Spear Society?"
"Yes," God said. "Every legionnaire, decurion, and legatus legionis. Your destination is the Rosemont Tower Hotel."
Hearing the formal titles made the commandment feel more real to Neal. This wasn't a dream.
"But Lord," he said, "one of my legionnaires is badly injured."
"He must travel. Only the assistants may stay behind. Move quickly and discreetly. My enemies are watching. They must not know reinforcements are coming."
"Yes, Lord. We will leave in the morning."
The ball of mist faded away.
Neal's eyes remained wide open. Final battle? The entire Society? What the hell is happening in Chicago?
Chapter Twenty-six
Aaron rubbed his tired eyes and swallowed some coffee. He was at the glass kitchen table with most of his team. Smythe, Odelia, Tawni, Sheryl, Norbert, Perry, and Ethel were sitting close together. Boreas stood behind Ethel.
Sheryl had washed the brown gunk off her face, but her hair was still far too short. It was an inconsequential loss considering what she had been through. Aaron still thought she looked pretty, particularly with her exotic mirrored pupils.
A conference phone had been placed in the center of the table.
"I gave the order just a short while ago," President Haley said through the phone. "The United States Army is on its way. Entire divisions will roll in all day long. Chicago will be under martial law until order is restored. I'm sorry. I couldn't hold them back any longer."
"You don't have to apologize," Ethel said. "I know you did the best you could. It's ironic that the Army is coming to clean up the mess because they're partially responsible for it."
She was wearing her formal robes. Gold threads caught the light and emphasized the darkness of the rest of the material. Her hood was made of folds of black silk. Her machetes were strapped across her back.
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't hear? The Washington team tracked down the source of the bacteria. It came from a top secret military research program. Scientists were trying to make super-soldiers."
"What?" Haley yelled. "Did you chase down the people involved?"
"Somebody else got to them first. They're all dead."
He was silent.
Ethel continued, "This mess is starting to look like another Pentagon conspiracy, like the Four Corners of Freedom who tried to kill you. Only an insider could've stolen that research and killed those scientists."
"This is distressing news," he said.
"At least we learned a few things about the disease. It's not contagious, but there is no known cure."
"We have to find one, ma'am," Smythe said urgently. "Hundreds of people are infected, maybe thousands. Odelia and I can do research in my lab, but it might take us months of trial and error, and that's too long. A properly equipped laboratory attached to a real hospital would get the job done a lot faster. We have to publicize what we know."
He was wearing a gray T-shirt. His eyes had bags underneath, and his face sagged from lack of sleep.
Ethel frowned.
"And we know God's enemies didn't invent this bacteria," Smythe added. "It's not forbidden knowledge. It's a product of man's foolishness."
She made a sour face.
"I agree with Smythe, ma'am," Aaron said. "Regular doctors will discover the bacteria soon if they haven't already. Our colleagues in Washington already told the USAMRIID about it. There's no reason to hold back the knowledge."
She snarled. "Fine. Smythe, put together all the medical information we have. Deliver it to the Centers for Disease Control and any other government agencies that might care. Anonymously, of course."
"Yes, ma'am!" Smythe said.
"Unfortunately, I have to go now," President Haley said. "I'm already late for the services at the Jefferson Memorial."
"Services?" Ethel said.
"You didn't hear? Terrorists attacked the Memorial yesterday. Several tourists and police officers were killed."
She shook her head. "The world is going to hell. I love you. Bye."
"Wait!" Aaron said. "Before you go, promise me you'll keep the Army on a tight leash. I'm exceedingly uncomfortable with a very large military presence in the middle of my territory. Anything could happen, and this is the worst possible time for more unpleasant surprises."
"I'll do my best," Haley said. "I love you, Ethel. Bye." The phone clicked.
Odelia smirked.
Aaron looked at the members of his team. "Let's focus on the main issue. We have to discover who was paying Unit K. That's the real threat. I'm sure they're the same foe who stole the bacteria from the Pentagon, and they might try to use it again somewhere else. Does anybody have a suggestion?"
Perry straightened up. He had finally showered, shaved, and changed his clothes. Now he wore a black T-shirt and jeans.
"I've been working on the bedding factory, sir," he said. "Somebody paid a boatload of money to acquire the factory and stock it with raw materials. I'm following the financial breadcrumbs, but I keep running into money laundering schemes like I've never seen before. These are very sophisticated, international scams. I need help from the twins."
"They're unavailable," Ethel said.
He looked down. "Yes, ma'am. I'll do what I can on my own."
"Also," Aaron said, "start looking for suspicious activities inside the Pentagon. It will all tie together eventually." He looked around the table. "Anybody else?"
Nobody spoke.
He frowned. "Disappointing. I'm going down to the basement to have another chat with Mr. Hess. He should be in a more cooperative mood by now. We'll reconvene in an hour. By then, I will expect everybody to be bubbling with fresh ideas for how we can discover our true enemies."
"Yes, sir," all the legionnaires said.
"Can I come down with you?" Tawni asked.
She was wearing her formal gray robes in a clear attempt to emulate the legate. Tawni's robes were cut in a much plainer style and lacked gold threads, but they still looked good on her. Her katana was strapped to her back the same way the legate wore her machetes.
"If you want," Aaron said. "Sheryl?"
Sheryl shook her head. "No, sir. It's too stinky down there." She held her nose.
He shrugged. "Suit yourself. One hour, ladies a
nd gentleman. Then I want to hear some brilliant proposals."
* * *
Aaron walked into the sewer room in the lowest level of the basement of the Rosemont Tower Hotel. All the raw sewage from the hotel converged here and went underground. Some of the iron pipes were big enough to crawl through. He heard a continuous flow as guests took showers and flushed toilets far above.
The stink made his eyes water. There was just enough leakage to create a constant drip. The liquid oozed across the concrete floor and into drains, but it left its pungent odor behind. Gardens of mold were growing in the wettest spots.
Commander Hess was lying on his back in a blue, plastic kiddie pool. His hands and feet were stretched taut and tied to the thickest pipes. He couldn't move at all.
The pool was filled to the brim with sewage, and more was dripping into the pool from a valve that was cracked open. Hess had to strain to keep his face out of the vile liquid. The rest of his body was submerged.
"Feeling more talkative yet?" Aaron said. "It's been six hours. You must be getting tired."
He was pushing a cart loaded with gold bricks and a sheet of plywood. Tawni followed right behind him.
"I can't tell you what I don't know, mother fucker!" Hess said.
"You can't be completely ignorant. Think hard."
"All I have is a phone number."
"That's something," Aaron said. "Tell me what it is."
Hess gave him a number. Aaron called Perry in headquarters and relayed the information to him.
"It's disconnected, sir," Perry reported. "The computer says it was never in service."
"Thanks anyway." Aaron closed his phone and faced Hess. "Worthless, just like you."
Hess pulled on the tight ropes and sloshed sewage onto the floor. Poor blood flow had made his hands and feet pale.
Aaron crouched down. "It's at this point that a man begins to question the choices he made in life. He starts to wonder whether his priorities were correct. You lived a life of violence and greed. You traded ethics and honor for loot."
"I don't want to hear any damn preaching," Hess said. "Your people are killers, too."
"Yes, but the difference is motivation. Take Tawni, for example." Aaron smiled at Tawni. "She's probably the most brutal killer on my team, a truly bloodthirsty bitch. Be very glad you captured Sheryl instead of her. Tawni would've simply wiped out Unit K in the most painful way possible."
Tawni grinned. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome." Aaron turned back to Hess. "But even though she is full of darkness and rage, and she slips up occasionally, she's still a noble warrior. She serves a greater good. You, on the other hand, serve only gold. You act like it's your king."
"Fuck you," Hess said.
Aaron looked at the cart. "We have a closet full of gold upstairs. I brought ten bars down with me. Does the sight of it fill you with desire?"
"Get to the point."
Aaron took the sheet of plywood from the cart and placed it across Hess's chest. Aaron tried to keep his hands out of the sewage, but a little splashed on them.
"Your love of gold is a great burden on your soul," Aaron said. "You're about to see exactly how heavy it is."
Hess struggled to get the board off his chest.
Aaron placed a gold bar in the center of the board. Hess now had a much harder time breathing and keeping his face out of the sewage.
"That's only twenty-five pounds," Aaron said. "Nine more bars to go."
Hess sputtered out sewage. "Why are you doing this to me? I can help you. I'm a good fighter! I'm rich!"
"You had your chance to join my side, but you blew it. The only help I want from you now is information, and you have none. It's a shame. You should've asked your employers the obvious questions when you had the chance. You had absolutely no idea of what you were getting into. You didn't even have the basic facts. For example, one fact is that they knew we would destroy Unit K. Your employers used you as a disposable tool. They probably never intended to pay you at all. But I'll give you gold."
Aaron placed a second bar on the board. Hess went under completely. After a few seconds, he forced his mouth above the surface, gasped, and went down again.
Aaron stood up and watched. He felt God's anger, and it comforted him. This was the right thing to do.
Eventually, Hess went under for the last time. Bubbles came out of his mouth, and he lay still beneath the brown liquid.
"That was too quick, sir," Tawni said.
Aaron shrugged. "We can't spend all day down here having fun. There is too much to do. Unfortunately, it's time for us to clean up this mess."
She grimaced. "Really?"
"Let's get to work. We'll shower and change when we're done."
* * *
General Walker parked his small sedan in front of the Rosemont Tower Hotel. He looked up at the side of the building. The semi-opaque glass was the color of a new penny. He didn't see any obvious places to hide weapons. The surface was remarkably smooth and featureless.
He zipped up his coat and stepped out of the car. The morning air was bitter cold, and the sky was cloudy, but at least the parking lot was clear of snow. Scrape marks showed it had been plowed very recently.
He hurried across the lot and entered the warm lobby. He liked the pattern of golden hexagons in the carpeting. A suspended glass sculpture allowed water to cascade over rectangular panels. It was sucked away at the bottom by thin pipes. The tinkling sound was very soothing.
Walker looked around. The lobby struck him as nicely furnished but ordinary. It was empty and quiet, but that wasn't a surprise. Travelers were staying far away from Chicago these days. As of this morning, the city was a militarized zone. Everything was proceeding according to plan.
The doorman seemed like the best person to talk to. He was wearing a golden suit with fancy, black piping. He was an African-American man with a very dignified posture. His golden cap looked a little silly though.
"Hi!" Walker said with a broad smile. "I'm a reporter from Making Money Magazine, or triple-M as we like to call it. I came to do a story about your Mr. Berrycloth. He has a reputation as a very successful businessman. I'd like to ask you a few questions about him, if you don't mind."
The doorman raised his eyebrows.
Walker took out a notepad and a pen. "What can you tell me about the owner of this magnificent hotel?"
"Not much, sir," the doorman said. "He keeps to himself."
"Do you know where he lives?"
The doorman shook his head.
Walker took a stack of pictures out of his pocket. Last night, the surveillance system had taken some good photos of the members of the Chicago cell. Computer enhancement had made the images crisp and bright, and only the faces were shown.
"We're still trying to get a good picture of him for the article. Do you mind picking him out for me? I want to double-check we have the right guy." Walker showed the pictures to the doorman.
The doorman tapped on a photo of a handsome man with straight, brown hair. Bushy eyebrows shaded his eyes.
"You're sure?" Walker said. He maintained a serious expression, but he was jumping for joy inside.
The doorman nodded. "I see him every few days. He comes through the lobby to talk to the manager."
"Thanks." Walker put the pictures away. "Mr. Berrycloth seems to be a very secretive gentleman. It's hard to get information about him."
The doorman clenched his jaw in a guilty manner. Walker took a roll of hundred dollar bills out of his pocket, peeled off two, and slipped them to the doorman.
"You have something you want to tell me?"
The doorman shook his head. "No, sir. I shouldn't talk."
"You're sure? This article is a big deal. I'll be happy to pay for whatever you know. Gossip or rumors are almost as good." Walker winked.
The doorman was clearly desperate to tell his secret. Some men were terrible at keeping their mouths shut. Walker slipped another two bills into the man's golden j
acket pocket.
"They say he's a super-spy," the doorman whispered.
"A what?"
"He has his own secret crew. They walk through here almost every day. Nobody knows where they go or what they're up to. Maybe it's the CIA. A lot of foreigners use O'Hare Airport which is really close to here. It could be some kind of foreign intelligence operation."
"That's very interesting," Walker said, "but I don't think I can use that kind of speculation in my article. It sounds a little crazy to be honest. I should probably move on. Thanks."
He gave himself a tour of the bottom two floors of the hotel. It certainly looked like a nice place to stay. He walked past a pharmacy and an Italian restaurant. A salon had pictures of beautiful women with perfect hair on the windows. He found a lot of meeting rooms, large and small. The main ballroom was big enough to seat a thousand people at least.
Finally, he left the hotel. On the way out, he thanked the doorman.
As Walker opened the glass front door, he noticed something odd. The glass was extremely thick and made of laminated layers. Bulletproof, he thought. A clever system of hinges and balances made the massive door easy to open.
He ran to his car. As soon as he got inside, he turned on the ignition and set the heat to maximum.
He took out his phone. It was equipped with the latest encryption and anti-eavesdropping modules, which made it big and lumpy. He dialed a number.
"Hello?" Erika said.
"The mission is a go. I have confirmed the Rosemont Tower Hotel is our target. We can proceed to the next phase as soon as our forces are in position."
"That's great news. What about the defenses?"
"I saw nothing besides bulletproof glass," Walker said. "There weren't even armed guards. If this hotel is really a fortress, it's doing a fine job of hiding that fact. This operation will be over in a day. We could be celebrating by this time tomorrow."
"Don't be so cocky. The Gray Spear Society always has a surprise or two."
"We'll have enough firepower to deal with any surprises a hundred times over! They can't beat the United States Army."
