by James Burke
Quintus tried his best to hide it, but Marx’s revelation hit him like a sledgehammer. Nevertheless, he managed to remain poker faced, as Marx continued.
‘And, you know what, I played an indirect role in what transpired. You see in my life before this I was a Chinese Red Guard tasked with neutralizing your overprotective master,’ Marx said. ‘Admittedly I didn’t pull the trigger, I got someone else to do it but nevertheless the job was done and then Vasiliev was meant to do you in stateside, but the moron killed your family instead.’
Marx then told Quintus that Vacher and his other bodyguard Irfan were the mad twins on the Reno train platform. They were also involved with Quintus being gibbeted back in Ireland, he said. Even further back Vacher was Meng’s chief minder Yongan, the one who Quintus prodded off the mountain.
Quintus closed his eyes, wanted to shut out Marx’s words and the whiney sound of his voice.
‘I don’t want to listen to anymore,’ Quintus said unintentionally.
‘You will listen but if it makes you feel any better my Red-Guard self died only a few days later after your master was killed,’ Marx said.
‘I slipped off a rickety river boat just as we were passing a giant Buddha statue carved into a stone cliff face. Comical really,’ he added. ‘Anyone who says drowning is a painless way to die is kidding themselves.’
And he continued with more.
‘The life before that I was crushed to death by a freakin’ rock the size of a small tank in a Siberian mine. Much quicker. I was a Japanese POW, caught by the Soviets in 1945. I had been with the Imperial Japanese Army’s covert Unit 731 in northern China,’ Marx said, only pausing to have another drink before resuming.
‘In this unit we conducted biological medical experiments on living people. Somewhat gruesome, but if you don’t mind that type of work, rather gratifying as well,’ he said. ‘Not as gratifying though when compared to what I did as Meng or Entwistle, or that Red Guard or even mad crazy Chivington for that matter.’
Marx paused again to gulp the last bit of liquor. As he began pouring himself another drink he resumed talking to Quintus who kept his eyes shut.
‘I guess I’m a bit like you Quintus, with memories that stretch back more than 2,000 years but much of it, for me, was in the underworld where I made my deal. You know what that was?’
Quintus ignored the question.
‘You want to know the deal I made?’ Marx asked again.
Quintus still didn’t reply.
‘You don’t want the truth?!’ Marx asked, this time borderline shouting.
Quintus maintained his silence.
‘No matter, I’m going to tell you anyhow!’ Marx laughed. ‘A big part of my deal was that I had my final revenge upon you,’ he said. ‘And for more than a while, it didn’t look like it was going to happen, and I was beginning to think I’d been suckered in.’
Marx paused to take another large quaff from his refilled glass. He wiped his lips clean with his coat sleeve and then renewed his monologue.
‘But I’m no fool. There’s more at stake if I fail to deliver my part rather than the other way around,’ Marx said.
He looked hard at Quintus. How pathetic. Defeated. Spiritless, he thought.
‘Difficult to believe you were once the best humanity had to offer,’ Marx said. He then lent forward to emphasize what came next.
‘This is where it gets really juicy. Those three bashing murders you committed at the Reno railway station in 1871, they changed everything,’ he said with hideous delight. ‘The ramifications were immense. It allowed the demon kings to go ahead with their doomsday plot, prying open the door for what’s now happening around the globe. The destruction of Venice, Rome and soon New York City all made possible because of your lack of self-restraint, your resentment, your anger, your filth.’
Quintus was further filled with both dread and shame upon realizing what Marx was implying.
‘The demon kings successfully argued that if you, a killer, were among mankind’s best then none deserve to exist, and nobody could really argue otherwise. They placed you on Hell’s waiting list after Reno and when I send you there they’ll put you, I guess, someplace among the wrathful and sullen,’ he said.
Marx’s cellphone rang, and he stopped talking. He checked the caller ID, chuckled in recognition.
‘Oh, I love this.’
He answered the call.
‘So, Kristen, what’s your answer?’
He privately listened to his PA’s response which took some 15 seconds.
‘Good, I’m glad you’re staying onboard for the few days as I requested,’ he said.
Marx then put on the phone’s speaker, so Quintus could hear her voice.
‘And what else do you need to tell me?’ he asked.
‘The doctor you asked for, Shiro Ishii, is confirmed as per your earlier instructions,’ Kristen said.
The sound of her voice took Quintus’ attention. Its inflection was familiar.
‘Excellent, you’ve made my day. How is my cousin?’ he asked referring to War.
‘Still where he was Mr. Marx, drawing away.’
‘Good, I’ll see you in the morning.’
After ending the call, Marx released a sigh of immense satisfaction.
‘Quintus believe it or not that was your wife,’ he sniggered. ‘Those demon kings sure have an absurd sense of humor sending her to me. They tricked her of course as she wanted to go elsewhere.’
Internally, Quintus tried rejecting what Marx said but instinct told him it was true, and now a cold numbness overtook the cocktail of emotions that had been gushing through his being. This woman Kristen once was Kaitlyn and he could do nothing but listen to Marx explain why she was in his service.
‘By having her on my staff, the idea was that I would have a greater chance at success in finding you,’ Marx said. ‘Karmic bait.’
And from there Marx ranted on for a further hour, much of it about things that were not even related to Quintus; bits and pieces about Marx’s other lives and the reality of Hell. There was no one else who he could say such things to and be taken seriously.
Around the 20-minute mark of Marx’s tirade Quintus disconnected from what was being said, allowing him to adjust his mental state. A cool clarity replaced the numbness, offering him the means to mentally prepare himself to get himself out of this mess. He had just enough faith and hope left in himself that things would reverse.
As for Marx, his hour-long monologue and continuous drinking, had left him both exhausted and sozzled. The past few days had been a roller coaster ride, one that he expected would continue. With a slur, he ordered Quintus to be dumped back into the cargo hold and requested there be quiet on the plane. After taking some sleeping pills he was promptly sucked into another dreamless sleep.
Consolation
As the sun came up over New York City, Kristen woke in her bed and did so alone. She sat up on its edge, somewhat confused yet comforted by the extraordinary dream she just had, a dream where she played a piano in a living room warmed by a lit fireplace.
The soulful, yearning music she played was interrupted by the joyful sound of a young child’s laughter coming from elsewhere. It was not an unwelcome interruption. In the dream, she was glad of it, as if it was expected and familiar.
She left the living room and went to a part of the dream house that looked out over a suburban backyard where a girl of pre-school age talked with a man wearing mail armor and donning a bronze helmet with a traversing red crest on its top. He leaned on his shield as he spoke with the girl who held a stuffed teddy bear. The man was a Roman soldier, but Kristen saw he had a gentle face. Then the girl and the ancient warrior noticed her and they both waved and offered her smiles.
Then Kristen woke up.
A warm residue from the dream kept her company while she used the bathroom and afterwards as she made breakfast in her small kitchen. It was when she turned on her television that she was reminded that the world outs
ide had broken. Much of the undoing was occurring not so far from where she was. You see, the Big Apple was in a panic, according to the morning news.
‘Roads out of New York City are choked with traffic while reports continue to come in of looting and acts of wanton anarchy across the city’s five boroughs,’ a news anchor said.
The broadcast was interrupted by the sound of an incoming text on her cellphone. It was from Marx, he was back in the city and was waiting for her downstairs in a parked limousine.
A Stretched Limousine
Outside the apartment, Vacher stood beside Marx’s stretched black Mercedes. In bemusement, he watched several looters smash the windows of a 7-11 further down the street.
Inside the limo, Marx, suffering a mild hangover, shared the back with Irfan and a 38-year-old scruffy Japanese doctor by the name of Shiro Ishii who feigned being asleep.
Ishii was Marx’s go-to man for any suspect medical needs, including providing medical support for his Black Crow security company.
Ishii was also a hopeless drug addict and as such was unreliable but easy to manipulate.
‘Here she comes,’ Irfan alerted Marx as Kristen exited her apartment building carrying luggage.
Given Marx now had Quintus, he had wondered if Kristen was still required but he decided she was still useful in looking after War, at least until they got to China.
Vacher took her bag and opened a door of the limousine for her. The Frenchman was chagrined as Kristen ignored him as she stepped into the vehicle. She couldn’t help it; Vacher’s presence had always repulsed her, even more so than Marx and any of the others.
In the limo, she slid across the seat next to Ishii and opposite Marx. She nodded to her boss, trying to hide her anxiety while doing so.
‘Kristen we will take the doctor to the club, but before that we will drop you at the office,’ Marx said. ‘I’d like you to continue looking after Ivan. I’ll organize a car to take you both to the airport a bit later.’
After Vacher put Kristen’s luggage into the limousine’s trunk he got in and they drove off, avoiding the chaos further down the street as they went.
Inside The Devil’s Pleasure Palace
After arriving in New York City, the night before, Marx had Quintus and Tina taken to his nightclub. There they were placed and locked up in the two shiny chrome cages dangling from the ceiling of the dance room.
Two of the club’s bouncers, big burly guys with past convictions, were tasked with keeping an eye on them. Most of their time though was used watching a television they had set up in a corner of the room.
In her cage, Tina lay curled up in a fetal position. She no longer had her hands tied or a hood on her head. She had been unconscious since being kidnapped but eventually awoke around mid-morning. It took her several minutes to gain clarity. Upon realizing her situation, she began to fret but the sight of Quintus standing in the neighboring cage gave her hope.
‘Tina save your strength,’ he quietly said. ‘An opportunity will come. We will get out of this, I promise you.’
His words helped restrain her fears and doubts.
‘You feel okay?’ he asked.
‘A bit nauseated and I ache all over but could be worse,’ she said.
Tina looked at the bouncers watching the TV, both of them had murky auras not dissimilar to the thugs at the Reno diner. One of them began laughing at the television.
‘Oh yeah I love this guy, he got the whole world hooked no matter how crazy he may sound,’ the bouncer said referring to Chuck Goyette.
On the TV three serious faced breakfast show hosts were quizzing the cult leader.
‘Mr. Goyette, can you describe how this nuclear war will start?’ one of the program’s hosts asked.
‘Oh yes I certainly can. About a week after the New York City earthquake, North Korean nuclear missiles will hit several major cities in the U.S. and in Japan,’ Goyette said. ‘So, there’s a shrinking window of opportunity for the president to take pre-emptive action to lessen American losses.’
‘Really?’ asked a host.
‘Really indeed. Tough decisions need to be made, so it shouldn’t stop at North Korea and I’m advising the president of the United States to strike China as well.’
The other bouncer shook his head in disbelief.
‘Man, someone should just nuke his sorry ass,’ he said. ‘That’d save the world.’
Another TV host questioned Goyette.
‘Now, so the second horsemen of the Apocalypse, War, is he instigating all of this?’
‘Yes, War, I guess you could say he is the puppet master in this regard,’ Goyette replied.
From his cage, Quintus saw one of the bouncers read a text message on his cell.
‘They’re here. Kill the TV and I’ll let them in,’ the bouncer told his colleague as he walked off.
The remaining bouncer turned off the television and then looked up at Quintus and Tina.
‘Glad I ain’t you two,’ he said.
Tina tried appealing to the bouncer’s better nature, in the hope that he had some that she couldn’t see.
‘Let us go please,’ she said.
The bouncer only laughed.
‘Girl just save it! We took your hoods off and the cable ties. That’s as good as it gets.’
Not long after that, his friend arrived with Marx, Ishii, Vacher, and Irfan following.
Tina didn’t pay attention to anyone but Marx. She was so stunned by what she saw surrounding him that she nearly forgot to breathe. He didn’t have an aura. Instead he was surrounded by a thick fog of darkness full of demonic slithering forms. It even smelt like sulphur to her. The density of this darkness was so great she could hardly see when Marx gave the bouncers envelopes fat with cash.
‘Thank you, gentlemen, if I were you I’d get as far south as possible, that way you may get to spend this money,’ Marx told them as they left.
Marx turned to Ishii who was rummaging through his small day pack which doubled as a medical bag. He pulled out a blood type test kit and began preparing it.
Marx then looked at his caged captives.
‘Okay you two, the doctor needs some blood,’ he said.
Tina quickly voiced her opposition.
‘I don’t understand what —’ she said before being cut off by Marx.
‘Quiet! You don’t need to freak out. The good doctor only needs a drop.’
Vacher and Irfan held a small ladder under Quintus’ cage for Ishii to climb up and get some blood.
‘Roll up your trouser leg Quintus so he can prick you,’ Marx ordered. ‘Like I said, he only needs a drop of your blood.’
Quintus didn’t move.
‘Don’t make it harder on yourself, you’re not in the position to do otherwise. Unless you want the girl to suffer unnecessarily.’
Reluctantly, Quintus did as instructed and Tina did the same not long after.
With samples taken, Ishii mixed the blood on test cards and got results.
‘Both are O-negative. They’re a match,’ he said.
‘Best news of the day so far. On your way then good doctor,’ Marx said as he threw a cash filled envelope to Ishii who, with it, scurried out of the nightclub.
Marx smirked.
‘I once thought doctors were pillars of society,’ he said as he turned to Quintus and Tina.
‘And then I realized what a broad, and largely incorrect, generalization that was. Take China as an example, where some doctors are making a fortune from organ transplants,’ he said.
‘An organ recipient there pays top dollar for a second-hand liver or heart which are dubiously sourced. It’s a well-known secret that it is state sanctioned, so it’s usually very efficient but I have an old friend who is sick in hospital. He’s already had two liver transplants, but he is balking at a third because he refuses to kill any more prisoners of conscience,’ said Marx.
‘Given the country does not, in reality, have a functioning voluntary organ donation system
his odds of surviving are getting slimmer by the minute,’ he said. ‘Bad news for you is that he and his family have no qualms about his getting a body part from a foreigner.’
Marx turned to Vacher and Irfan.
‘Put their hoods back on and tie their wrists for our flight to China,’ he ordered.
The Boy Everyone Admired
Kai may have only been 12 years of age, but he had the bearing of someone older and wiser. He had an old soul was what his nai nai (grandma) told others in their village situated close to the city of Leshan in southwest China’s Sichuan province. In fact, most of the villagers who knew Kai and his family regarded him with a sense of awe. He was not a typical boy and he was certainly never naughty, they said. Even as a toddler.
Agreeing with that sentiment was his mother, not that she was with her son that much, but she travelled five hours from the mega-city Chongqing, where she worked, to check on him at least once a month. He was so capable and mature for his age, she often found herself deferring to him, not that the boy wanted that to happen. She was confident that he could soon take care of his grandparents if needed.
A large chunk of Kai’s exceptionalism was due to some little-known Taoist methods passed on to him by his grandfather’s brother. The relative gave Kai several Taoist manuscripts that were saved from the disaster of the Cultural Revolution. The boy, then only five years of age, read them ardently and repeatedly.
By his sixth birthday Kai was able meditate in full lotus position for an hour and it wasn’t much longer that he developed some mystical abilities. He could recall past lives through dreams and his celestial eye opened. What he read from the old manuscripts helped him to make sense of the deities, ghosts and demons he began to see.
By the time he was nine he was also mysteriously the equal of a black belt in Kung Fu. It appeared he was self-taught in that.
When it came to more mundane things, Kai spent time helping his grandparents or trekking the hills around their village. Recently he informed his grandparents of his intention to walk up a mountain someway further west of where they lived. This idea naturally freaked them out, especially given the government had made the area he spoke of out of bounds. Both grandparents thought they convinced him not to go until they woke up one morning to find him gone. An apologetic note was left on his bed for them.
