Perfect Justice (33 page)

What was this? Had the jury returned while he was out creeping through the forest?

“We have.” One of the ASP men approached. Ben could see that he was standing to one side with eleven others. Dunagan wasn’t talking about the Vick trial jury; he was talking about a jury of his own.

The man handed Dunagan a small scrap of paper. Dunagan read it, smiled, then crumpled it in his fist. “The jury finds Donald Vick guilty in absentia of high treason.”

The crowd cheered. After thunderous applause and shouting they fell into a chant. “Blood, blood, blood, blood,
blood!
” they shouted, fists raised in the air.

“Donald Vick has committed the cardinal sin,” Dunagan proclaimed. “Treason against ASP. For reasons entirely his own, he betrayed us all, disregarding his oath and performing acts at odds with our hallowed goals. His name shall be stricken from the rolls of ASP. It shall be as if he was never there. He is dead.”

More cheers. Dunagan’s last words echoed in Ben’s ears. He wondered if that was a proclamation, or a prediction.

Ben slapped his forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Christina frowned. “What?”

“I should’ve been taping this whole disgusting assembly. Hand me the camcorder.”

“Let this be a warning to all our enemies,” Dunagan cried out. His voice soared in pitch and volume. “ASP will mete out retribution to those who oppose us, whether they lie without or within.”

“Blood, blood,
blood
,” the ASP men chanted. “Death, death,
death!

The cry filled the room, so loud it made Ben’s bones shake. He gripped the camera tightly and tried to prevent his trembling from spoiling the picture.

“They certainly have
esprit de corps,
don’t they?” Christina whispered.

“Too much for my taste.”

Dunagan continued his sermon. “Those who challenge us will perish as surely as all the godforsaken nonwhite races will die in the flames of Christ’s fiery sword. We have slaughtered our enemies before. And we shall do so again.”

This time the chanting persisted for more than a full minute. Ben swept the room with his camera, trying to make sure everyone got in the picture. Say cheese, ASP.

Dunagan raised his right hand, and his followers quickly did the same. He began to recite, and every man in the room joined him. They all knew it by heart.

“I am an Aryan. I serve the forces that guard my Aryan race. I am prepared to give my life in defense of my race.”

Their voices swelled, chanting in unison. “I am an Aryan. I will never betray other Aryan people. I will fight the enemies of the Aryan race with my dying breath. I will never surrender.

“I am an Aryan,” they continued. “If I am incarcerated, I will remember at all times my duty as an Aryan. As a political prisoner of war, I will answer only with my age, name, and address when questioned. I will resist any activity harmful to the Aryan race. I will obey the orders of my superior officers at all times.”

The oath continued for three more verses, followed by cheers and shouts. Ben kept the camera rolling. Finally Dunagan waved down the noise. “You may also wish to know that tonight’s incursion against the infidels at Coi Than Tien was a complete success.”

Another spontaneous cheer, raising the rafters. Ben began to fear the meeting would disintegrate into a riot.

“Every time we act, our enemies become a little weaker, a little less able to resist. Soon they will give up, recognizing defeat. They will leave this place to the Anglo-Saxon races to whom it rightfully belongs. Tonight’s operation went entirely as planned, according to my orders.”

Ben gripped the camera all the tighter, focusing tightly on Dunagan’s face. Thank you for the confession, Mr. Grand Dragon. I think you just said enough to get yourself convicted of felony murder.

Ben was so focused on Dunagan’s confession he didn’t hear the sneakered footsteps approaching behind him.

“Intruder!”
The shout was long and loud, silencing the assembly.

A pair of hands thudded down on Ben’s shoulders, causing him to drop the camera. He tried to break away, but another pair of hands twisted his arms tightly behind his back.

“Christina! Run!”

Too late. They had her. One of them grabbed her satchel, another had an arm around her neck. She fought and kicked, but it was no use. They were much too powerful for her.

“There’s two of them!” the man holding Ben shouted.

Dunagan’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Ben. When he finally spoke, it was almost like a growl.

“Bring them to me.”

T
HE TWO MEN HOLDING
Ben dragged him through the ranks of ASP to the center table, with Christina close behind. He struggled futilely. He couldn’t get away. And even if he could, where would he go? He was surrounded by fifty more just like the two who were holding him.

“Demon Kincaid,” Dunagan said through clenched teeth. “How nice to see you again.”

“The pleasure isn’t mutual.”

“I would advise you not to offend me more than you already have,” he said ominously. He glanced at Christina. “Who’s she? Another Hatewatch whore?”

“She’s a member of my staff. An employee. She’s only here because I ordered her to be here. Let her go.”

“I’m afraid it may be too late for that.”

“Don’t even think about hurting her, Dunagan. I heard what you said a minute ago. Including your confession that you’re behind the attacks on Coi Than Tien.”

“Our land must be cleansed.”

“Yeah, well, tonight’s cleansing resulted in a death, and that means you can be charged with felony murder. That’s a capital offense, Dunagan. Just like murder one.”

The muscles in Dunagan’s face and neck tightened. “Then I will have to ensure that you never have a chance to tell anyone what you have learned.”

Another ASP man broke through the ranks. He was waving the video camera. “The intruders dropped this.”

Dunagan snatched the camera away, glaring at Ben the whole time. Unfortunately he knew how camcorders worked. He rewound the tape, then watched it through the viewfinder.

“They are spies!” he shouted. “Enemies!”

The angry snarls and hisses chilled Ben’s blood.

“How convenient,” Dunagan continued, “that we already have a jury assembled. Gentlemen of the jury, I submit Exhibit A!”

He passed the camera to the man who had submitted the previous verdict, who in turn passed it to the other members of the ASP jury. Some of them looked at the tape; some of them didn’t bother.

“Are you able to reach a verdict?” Dunagan asked.

“Wait a minute!” Ben said. “What kind of trial is this? Don’t I get an opportunity to be heard?”

Dunagan slapped Ben harshly with the back of his hand. “Your actions have spoken much louder than your words ever could. I ask you again, gentlemen of the jury. Have you reached a verdict?”

The jury huddled for less than ten seconds. “We find the intruders guilty of conspiracy against ASP.”

Ben struggled to get free, but his captors held his arms tight. He couldn’t even budge. “I’m not intimidated by this sick kangaroo court, Dunagan. You wouldn’t know justice if it knocked you in the face.”

Dunagan hit Ben again, this time with his fist.

“Very good.” Dunagan faced the entire assembly. “The intruders have been found guilty by this tribunal. What shall their sentence be?”

“Death!” one voice shouted, and then the others joined in. “Death, death, death, death,
death!
”

Ben couldn’t believe this was happening. It was too fast—too surreal. People didn’t really act this way. No one could have so much hate; no one could be so devoid of conscience. Not so many of them. Unfortunately the mob mentality was probably the main problem. Groups were easier to manipulate than individuals. And this group was thoroughly under Dunagan’s control.

“Death, death, death, death,
death!
” ASP shouted.

“The jury has spoken,” Dunagan solemnly pronounced.

“That’s murder you’re talking about, Dunagan. No matter how you dress it up, it’s murder!”

Dunagan ignored him. He motioned to one of his assistants.

Before Ben had a chance to react, someone had clamped a damp cloth over his nose and mouth.

Chloroform. Damn! He stopped breathing, but he hadn’t had time to inhale first. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out long.

He twisted his head around. Christina was getting the same treatment. Her eyelids were fluttering. Then they closed.

Ben’s own vision was getting foggy. He tried to force his eyes to remain open.

The commotion among the crowd was growing—wait a minute! Something else was happening. People were pointing toward the back, running. …

The ASP men were scrambling, deserting the hall. But why? Ben couldn’t make out what was going on.

And then, suddenly, the back room exploded into brilliant white light. A hot light. It shimmered and changed shape. It grew.

Ben had seen this before. Much too recently.

Fire.

In the final instant before he passed out, Ben realized the church was burning.

B
EN AWOKE CHOKING. THE
smoke cast a gray haze through the hall. It was difficult to see more than a few feet away.

He shook his head several times, trying to clear out the cobwebs. He was still in Fellowship Hall. At least he thought he was. It was difficult to be certain. The chloroform had left him with blurred vision and a dull throbbing between his temples. He had to—

Oh my God. Christina!

He shouted out her name, but didn’t hear a response. He looked all around, but the smoke obscured his vision. Worse, he could see the blaze billowing out from the ASP war room and spreading into the hall. The fire must’ve been set in there, probably through the cellar door Ben had left open.

“Christina!”

He ran around the table, trying to find some trace of her. Would they have taken her with them? Why her and not him? It made no sense.

“Christina!”

He tried to remember where he had seen her last. They were holding her over there, behind the table. …

He practically stepped on her before he saw her. She was lying on the floor, hands over her head. Her eyes were closed.

“Christina!” He coughed; the smoke was getting to him. He took her head and gently moved it back and forth, calling out her name.

Slowly her eyelids opened. She started to speak, inhaled smoke, and began to cough violently.

Ben helped her sit upright. “What happened?” she gasped.

“Someone set the church on fire. The ASP clan fled. They left us here to die.”

“Great. How—” Her voice was consumed by coughing.

“I think you got a bigger dose of chloroform than I did before ASP hightailed it out of here. Can you stand?”

She nodded. Ben helped her to her feet.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but the back entrance is already blocked off by fire. We need to get out of here before the front doors are impassable as well.”

With his arm around her shoulder, they moved to the stairwell that appeared to lead to the ground floor of the church. The passage was already filled with dark sooty smoke, but they made their way to the top.

The front entrance to the church was consumed in flame.

Ben clenched his teeth. “They must’ve set a second fire. The arsonist was trying to trap everyone inside.”

“It must not have worked,” Christina said. A layer of black soot underlined her nose and mouth. “The ASP gang isn’t here.”

“The back entrance,” Ben said, snapping his fingers. “Remember—we passed it on our way to the cellar door. Must be on the other side of the pulpit.” He grabbed Christina’s hand. “Come on!”

“Wait a minute!”

“What? We don’t have time—”

“Listen!”

Ben fell quiet. And a few seconds later he heard it, too, above the roar of the flames.

The whimpers and cries of the dogs.

Christina ran to one of the stained-glass windows in the chapel. The windows were too narrow to squeeze through, even if they knocked the glass out. But the windows did provide a view of the dogs. “The fire has spread to the kennel! They’re trapped!”

“I’m sorry,” Ben replied, “but we don’t have time for this. We have to get out of here!”

“We can’t just let those poor dogs burn to death!”

Ben swore silently. “There’s a control panel near the front entrance. I saw it when I was here before. It electronically controls the kennel doors.”

“Show me.”

Ben and Christina ran back to the front entrance. In the space of perhaps a minute, the flames had grown twice as large. Even standing ten feet away, the heat was so searing they couldn’t come any closer.

Ben pointed. “It’s over there, on the wall. Beside that closet door or whatever it is.”

“It’s too hot!” she cried. “I can’t get to it!”

Ben remembered where the men’s room was. He ran in and found to his relief that the faucets were still working. He removed his windbreaker, soaked it thoroughly, and threw it over his head.

“Be careful!” Christina shouted when he emerged.

“I’ll do my best.” Draped in the wet coat, Ben ran to the control panel. The heat was scalding; he could almost feel his skin melting. The coat provided some protection to his face, but he knew he couldn’t count on that for long. Images of Maria Truong flashed in his brain. Please God, he did not want to be burned like that. Please—anything but that.

He had no idea which of the blinking buttons controlled the kennel, so he tried them all in rapid succession. After the third button, he heard Christina shout from inside the chapel.

“That’s it! The doors are opening! Get out of there!”

Ben raced away from the control panel, the flames licking at his heels. He felt scorched from head to toe. But he made it out.

He looked through the chapel window and saw the terrified dogs bolting out of the blazing kennel. “Now let’s get out of here!”

He grabbed her hand and raced toward the backdoor. Or as close to it as they could get.

The delay of a few minutes had cost them dearly. The fire in the basement was spreading not only out but up. The flames caught onto the wooden floor and crept all over the north wall.