The Price of Disrespect (Gray Spear Society Book 6) (41 page)

"No. You might get lost. Don't worry about Charles. He always completes his assignments. He may be boring, but he's very reliable."

* * *

"What a dump!" Perkins said. "I heard this place was nasty, but I had no idea it was this bad."

Aaron shrugged. "I'm used to it."

He and Norbert were leading the Nonsectarians on a long tour of the facility. Aaron was going slowly on purpose. He wanted to give his team plenty of time to get their jobs done.

Aaron walked past some corpses strewn across the concrete floor. The victims were naked, bruised, and filthy.

Perkins recoiled. "Ugh! How many bodies is that so far? Fifty?"

"Maybe," Aaron said. "I haven't been counting. It was a hell of a fight. The intruders were tough to take down."

"You got them all?"

"The fight is definitely over."

They walked into one of the test arenas. This one had an oval shape instead of being circular like the others. A large number of televisions were mounted on the wall, and they showed a test pattern.

Aaron stopped and watched as men streamed into the arena.

"Why are we stopping?" Perkins said.

"Let's let everybody catch up. I want to make sure we didn't lose somebody. Do you mind doing a head count for me?"

"That could take a while."

"We have to do it," Aaron said. "It's a security issue. In the meantime, my friend and I will run ahead and make sure it's clear. Thanks. I really appreciate your cooperation."

He and Norbert left the arena through another exit. After the door swung closed, Aaron stuck a piece of pipe through the handles to barricade it. He had placed the pipe there earlier for that purpose. The other door of the arena was still open, but it led deeper into the facility and away from escape.

Aaron took out his phone, pressed a button, and spoke into the mike. "Burn it."

* * *

Aaron stepped out through the hole in the wall on the north side of the building. Norbert followed close behind. Smythe, Odelia, Wesley, and Yvonne were standing on the lawn outside.

The survivors of Dr. Rascher's horrible experiments were sitting a short distance away on the grass. Aaron counted just six men and four women. None of them looked crazy, and he concluded that Wesley had healed their minds, but they were still disoriented. Sheets and blankets were wrapped around their filthy bodies.

Aaron walked over to Smythe. "That's all you could save?"

"Yes, sir," Smythe said sadly. "I wish we had had more time to make a thorough search."

"I suppose we should be thankful we rescued any at all, and none of us were killed, except for Carlos. All things considered, it was a successful operation."

Smythe nodded. "I'm not complaining."

"Aaron," Wesley said. "Do you see that woman with brown hair?"

He pointed to a woman with pale skin in her mid-twenties. She was in rough shape now, but Aaron could tell she would be very pretty once she was cleaned up.

"Yes," Aaron said.

"She will be your
legionnaire
and will complete your team. But give her a month or two to recover before you recruit her. She's too weak to handle that stress now."

Aaron gave the woman a long look. It was hard to see her features in the darkness.

"What makes her special?"

"You'll find out," Wesley said.

"Can I introduce myself?"

"Gently. She is still very confused."

Aaron walked over to the woman and smiled down at her. "Hello. What's your name?"

"Sheryl." Ghastly, purple bruises marked her face.

"What do you do for a living, Sheryl?"

"I'm a stage magician."

"Are you good at it?"

"I get top bookings all over the country," she said. "I've won awards. I'm known as the Mistress of Mystery."

"That's very interesting." He knelt down. "I'll make a special effort to catch your act. I know some tricks, too. Maybe I'll show you what I can do."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the leader of these people." He nodded towards his team. "We saved your life."

"What's going on? Who is that boy? There was a beautiful, white light inside my head..."

"Be calm. It will all make sense one day. For now, just enjoy being alive. It's a genuine miracle."

Aaron stood up and walked off.

"Thank you!" she called. "Will I see you again?"

He nodded. "You can bet on it."

He ducked back inside the building to check on the progress of the fire. So much black smoke had risen to the ceiling that the lights were dimmed. The air was already uncomfortably warm. He heard men yelling in panic as they searched for a way out of the trap. They would not find one.

Aaron went outside and looked up. The stars were particularly clear and beautiful tonight.

After a little while, Tawni, Atalanta, and Charles arrived. They had exited through other doors and had walked around the building. Charles was using his gift, making him invisible to most people. Aaron saw him as an indistinct form in the shape of a man. All the colors of the rainbow swirled around him like an outer garment.

Aaron gathered all the Society members into a circle.

"It was a very productive day," he said. "Now it's time to sleep. I want to see everybody in the conference room at eight in the morning including the protection team. We have important decisions to make regarding the mission and Wesley."

"Yes, sir," several people responded.

"As far as transportation goes, we just have the one helicopter. There is enough seating for our out of town guests. That's Wesley, Yvonne, Atalanta, Charles, and Odelia. I'll be the pilot, of course. My
legionnaires
will have to find their own way home. This is an opportunity to practice hotwiring cars. The parking lot is full of them, and the owners won't complain."

"Yes, sir," Smythe said glumly.

Tawni made a face.

* * *

Roger Gains liked watching things burn. Other men searched the internet for pornography, but he only sought scenes of destruction. He had many gigabytes of video stored on his hard drive, and all of it depicted fire and death in lurid detail. His private collection brought him pleasure every night.

The news was showing the kind of footage he normally enjoyed intensely. A huge building was in flames. The fire was so hot the roof was actually melting. According to the reporters, only a handful of people had escaped alive, and finding more survivors was very doubtful. The eventual death toll would be in the hundreds, although there would never be an accurate count.

Gains wasn't enjoying this particular fire at all. The huge building was his secret research facility. As far as he could tell, the entire staff had been killed, and even the reinforcements he had sent were gone. His loyal Nonsectarians were wiped out. The devastation couldn't be more complete.

He turned off the television in disgust.

A phone started ringing in his office. He hurried to answer it.

He picked up the handset and said, "Hello?"

"Roger? This is Congressman Cisneros."

"I hope you have good news, Henry," Gains said. "I could really use it."

"I made a number of inquiries. The FBI is definitely not investigating you. I don't think any federal agency is. That's good news, right?"

"Not really. Somebody is fucking me very hard. I'd like to know who it is."

"What's going on?" Cisneros said in a tone of concern.

Gains closed his eyes. "Forget it. Not your problem."

"Roger, is there something I should know about?"

Gains was silent.

"Are you still living in a cave under a castle?" Cisneros asked cautiously.

"My apartment is hardly a cave."

"When was the last time you breathed fresh air?"

"I prefer air that is properly purified and oxygenated," Gains said.

Cisneros sighed. "Roger, that safari in Angola was ten years ago. It's time for you to lead a normal life again."

Gains squeezed the phone in his hand. "I watched my beautiful wife Patricia and my two children die of cholera. Vile fluids spewed from their orifices. Their bodies shriveled. Afterwards, the tribesmen burned their corpses on a funeral pyre. I watched that, too. You want me to be normal?" He hung up the phone.

He decided to sponge the ceiling until he calmed down. It was possible some dust had collected up there. He didn't want it settling in his lungs.

* * *

A ringing phone woke Aaron the next morning. Without opening his eyes, he groped around until he found the noisy thing on his nightstand. His first instinct was to throw it against the wall, but he answered the call instead.

"Hello?" he grunted.

"Mr. Berrycloth? This is Mr. Rosenblum."

"What is it?"

"I just got into the office," Rosenblum said, "and everybody is talking about a helicopter incident last night. They say one flew off the roof, landed in the parking lot, collected passengers, and took off. According to witnesses, the pilot was a man who looked remarkably like you."

Aaron took deep breaths. He was too tired for this nonsense. Putting his headquarters on top of a public hotel was starting to seem like a poor choice.

"Mr. Berrycloth?"

"Yes," Aaron said, "there is a helicopter on the roof. Yes, I was flying it. No, I won't tell you why."

Rosenblum paused. "I see."

"If I promise to give you a ride in my helicopter, will you let me go back to sleep? It was a late night."

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Aaron closed his phone.

He was just about to drift off to sleep when the phone rang again.

With a growl of frustration, he put it against his ear. "What now?"

"This is the courier service, sir," a man said.

The Gray Spear Society used a special courier service to deliver correspondence and packages between cells. The couriers were held to the highest standards of confidentiality and reliability. Technically, they weren't in the Society, but they had some of the privileges of members.

"What's up?" Aaron said.

"We have a package for you. We would like to deliver it this morning."

"That's not convenient. The regular delivery time is three days from now. Can it wait?"

"This package is marked extremely urgent and high risk," the courier said. "It can't be held. We would be grateful if you got it off our hands quickly. It's large."

"How large?"

"A steel box weighing a thousand pounds, sir."

Aaron had an idea about what was in that box. It was something every headquarters required and something his had been missing for too long.

"Eleven AM. The rail yard. My truck will be white."

"Mine will be green," the courier said. "You should receive an access code shortly. Thank you, sir."

Aaron put the phone down. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep now. He decided to take a hot shower and eat a good breakfast instead. It was shaping up to be another full day.

* * *

Aaron was uncomfortable with big meetings. He was secretive by nature, and when he dealt with people, he preferred individuals. He certainly didn't like a lot of expectant faces looking at him. All of the
legionnaires
, Wesley, the three remaining members of his protection team, and the twins were in the conference room. There was barely enough seating to go around. Aaron hoped this would be the last big meeting for a while.

"Let's start with reports," Aaron said. "We'll go around the table. I want everybody to tell me what happened last night."

As he listened, he started to appreciate how close to disaster the operation had come. The story of Carlos' death was startling.

Finally, it was Wesley's turn. Aaron expected a brief presentation, but Wesley was brutally honest with his self-criticism. He laid out every one of his own sins in detail as only the Voice of Truth could. When he finished, there was nothing left for Aaron to add. It was hard to stay angry at a kid who was so ready to admit every mistake.

"We were very fortunate last night," Aaron said when the reports were done. "We could've lost most of the team instead of just Carlos. We could thank God, destiny, or just dumb luck. Either way, we have to do better next time. It's my responsibility to devise better plans, and it's your responsibility to stay out of traps. Let's move on. Bethany, you've been delving into financial records and personnel files at Clear Path Cable. You must have some results by now."

"Yes, sir," Bethany said.

She and her sister looked worn out. They had spent most of the night analyzing data and had slept even less than Aaron. They hadn't had a regular night of sleep in three days.

"We confirmed Roger Gains is the leader of the Nonsectarians," Bethany said. "He financed the development, testing, and deployment of the wave generator technology. He made the important decisions."

"Speaking of wave generators," Aaron said, "we need to destroy them before they destroy Chicago. There was another riot last night."

"Already taken care of, sir. The data we downloaded last night included electronic access codes. We hacked into the cable system and remotely disabled the wave generators. All of them are permanently off-line."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well done. That's good initiative. What about the thousands who are already affected?"

"The bad light will fade from their minds. They should be normal again in a week or two."

"I suppose the city can hold out for that long. There isn't much else we can do. What about Rascher and Gains?"

"We're still searching for Rascher," Bethany said. "Gains is probably at his home in Minnesota. I'll show you."

She typed on a keyboard on the conference table. An image appeared on a monitor mounted on the wall. It was an aerial photograph of a castle on an island surrounded by a lake. The picturesque, white castle looked like it was made of solid stone blocks.

"He lives there?" Aaron said.

"Yes, sir. Gains is notoriously paranoid and reclusive. Only his closest friends meet him in person. He hasn't had a public appearance in ten years."

"Zoom in."

She hit a few keys and the castle became larger. He studied the image for a moment. It was an impressive piece of architecture.