TW10 The Hellfire Rebellion NEW (20 page)

“You believe this?" whispered Delaney, standing close to Lucas. They had lost sight of Hewitt, who had vanished among the hooded figures.

"I figure at least forty, fifty men," said Lucas, glancing around.

They found a table and sat down. A white-robed woman, hooded and with a white mask tied around her face, leaving only her eyes, mouth, and chin visible, wordlessly set down two mugs of wine before them. She gave them a knowing smile and proceeded on to the next table. Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of the chapel organ playing a dirgelike, somber melody and the white-robed figures all retreated to the back room. Everybody stood. A man robed and masked in black like all the others mounted the pulpit and stood with his hands braced on the sides, surveying the room. The organ stopped and there was silence.

“Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!" the man at the pulpit said, in a loud voice that echoed through the chapel.

“Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!" the congregation responded in chorus.

“Be seated, brothers." They sat with a rustling of robes.

"You recognize the voice?" Delaney whispered.

Lucas shook his head.

"The horseman is among us," said the figure at the pulpit and an excited ripple ran through the crowd. "He is pleased to see so many loyal subjects of the king gathered here together. Long live His Majesty. King George!"

"Long live His Majesty. King George!" the congregation responded.

"We live in perilous times, my brothers," said the man at the pulpit. "We have seen the Sons of Violence attack our fellow loyal citizens of Boston. We have seen them burn and pillage. We have seen them loot and plunder. We have seen them stone our houses and smash out our windows while our families huddled terrified within and we ourselves shook with rage and indignation, helpless in the face of their superior numbers. We have been forced to stand by and watch while they tarred and feathered our officials and belabored them with clubs. And then we have all read how they justify their actions in their lying newspapers, accusing us of treason, accusing us of disloyalty, accusing us of being the oppressors!" An angry undertone ran through the crowd.

“They want the freedom to speak out, but only for those who would agree with them! They want the freedom to assemble, but only so that they can fire up the common mob and break into our homes and make off with our possessions! They demand freedom of the press, but only so that they can fill their newspapers with their seditious lies! They demand freedom from taxation, but only so that they can continue smuggling with impunity! We, who import our fabrics and our wines from England, our carriages, our furniture, our tea and other necessaries, must pay our legal duties to the Crown as loyal subjects, yet they, a bunch of upstart common laborer, and rabble, feel that they must be exempt! They cry out that Parliament oppresses all Americans, yet who among us has not felt oppressed by them?
Ours
are the families who have founded these thirteen English colonies.
Ours
are the families who have built the cities, who have fought the Indians and the French, who have built the ships and founded trade and established our colonial assemblies!
Ours
was the toil,
ours
the sweat and blood! And now these dock porters and simple cordwainers, these rope makers and illiterate apprentices descended from indentured servants would bite the hand that feeds them and dictate terms to
us
! Well, we shall suffer these indignities no longer! We say to them,
no
more
!"

"No more! No more!"

“It’s like a revival meeting," whispered Delaney.

“There is one among us who has set us all an excellent example," said the speaker. "One who has spoken to the Sons of Violence in the only language that they can understand. Until now, the rabble has been unopposed, free to strike at night and to terrorize anyone they pleased. My friends, that time has ended! The choice is ours, my brothers! We can unite and end this reign of terror, or we can huddle, quaking in our homes, waiting fearfully and helplessly to see whom the Sons of Violence will choose for their next victim." He suddenly pointed at one of the robed figures below him. "Will it be you?"

The man shifted uncomfortably. The finger moved on.

"Or will it be you? Or you? Or
you
?" He pointed at another man. "Will
yours
be the next home that they tear down'?" He pointed again. "Will
you
be the next one to be seized and dragged into the Common, stripped naked for all to see, and basted with a coat of steaming tar and feathers'?"

He pulled his hand back and clenched it into a fist. "And can we believe that the outlaws will stop there'?" he said. "With no one to oppose them, will they not grow bolder still? In the middle of the night, they will come and visit you," he said, pointing suddenly at another member of the congregation, and in their frenzy of destruction, while they hold you helpless, they will look upon your daughter and they will find her pleasing. Two of them will hold her while she struggles, yet a third will tear her nightdress from her innocent young body; they will run their filthy, rough, and callused common hands over her sweet virgin flesh; they will bear her down and have their way with her while she weeps and screams in terror and you are forced to watch! And afterward, when you walk the streets together, which one of the carters who pass by you will smirk with secret knowledge? Which one of the drunken dock workers will call out her name after you pass?"

He looked around at the entire congregation.

“It could happen to any one of you," he said, "And it
will
happen, unless we stop it
now
!"

The sense of outrage and indignation surged throughout the crowd.

"These common criminals must be taught a lesson!" he shouted. Who will be the next to learn?"

“
Ebenezer Macintosh
!" a deep and resonant voice coed out.

“Drakov!" said Delaney, looking all around, as did many of the others, but there was no way to tell where the voice had come from. The speaker waited until the undertone died down.

"Our friend has chosen well," he said. "The horseman has named Ebenezer Macintosh. A drunken cobbler. A common brawler, the leader of the South End Gang.

It was he who led the mob against the home of our good friend "Thomas Hutchinson, thereby reducing our proudest citizen to penury. And was he punished for this crime? No sooner was he thrown into jail by our sheriff than he was released as a result of threats from the very rioters he led! And today, he swaggers through the streets and boasts of his invulnerability! Is he invulnerable'?"

No!" the crowd yelled.

"Is he beyond the law?"

"
No
!"

"Is he going to pay for what he's done?"

"Yes!" voices called out. "Yes, hang him, make him pay! Hang him!"

"The jury has reached its verdict," said the speaker. "The accused, Ebenezer Macintosh, stands guilty, as charged. So say you all?"

"
Aye! Aye
!"

"Then, Ebenezer Macintosh, for your crimes against the loyal citizens of Boston, we hereby sentence you to hang!"

"Jesus, now what do we do?" Delaney said.

"We'll have to stop them," Lucas said. "We'll have to get to him before they do and warn him."

"In ancient times," the speaker continued, "warriors united in a common.

sacred cause would gather on the eve of a great battle to celebrate their courage and to fortify their manhood. Thus do we revive this ancient custom. Thus do we celebrate our unity and fortify our cause! “Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty, my brothers!"

"
Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!"

The organist began to play as the speaker descended from the pulpit and the white-robed women came filing out with trays of wine, ale, rum, and food. The women moved along the tables, setting down their trays and being pulled into the laps of the robed men. At the table next to theirs, a man pulled the cord holding a woman's robe fastened around her waist and it fell open, revealing her to be completely naked underneath. He started fondling and kissing her. None of the men undressed. They merely pulled open their robes and loosened their clothing underneath, pulling the laughing women down into their laps, dragging them to the floor, laying them out on top of tables and benches. One of the women came and sat down on Delaney's knee, smiling and reaching for the cord that tied his robe.

"Not now." he said. "A moment. Nature calls."

She shrugged and moved on to another man.

"Let's get the hell out of here." he said to Lucas.

They rose and moved to the side door. All around them, the orgy was in progress as masked men and women fumbled inside one another's robes, laughing and indulging in the license of anonymous sex. Finn and Lucas left by the side door and stepped out into the cool night breeze.

"Stand where you are!" said a voice out of the darkness. "Raise your hands above your heads!" They froze and did as they were told. Several men stepped out of the shadows, holding muskets and pistols aimed directly at them.

"What is this'?" Lucas said, in an angry tone. "Can't a man even relieve himself in peace? Put down those guns!"

Another man, this one dressed in a black robe and a mask, unlike the guards, stepped forward.

"Hold your arms out straight, away from your sides." he said. They both recognized the voice of the speaker in the pulpit. They did as they were told.

"Pull back their hoods and remove those masks. If one of them so much as blinks, shoot them both at once."

They stood absolutely motionless as one of the men stepped forward, yanked back their hoods, and removed their masks.

"Do any of you know these men?" the speaker asked.

The guards all shook their heads.

"Neither do I," the speaker said. "It appears that we have caught ourselves sonic spys. Search them."

The man who had removed their masks suddenly jerked, then with a surprised expression, he collapsed to the ground. There were several rapid hissing noises and the remaining guards all fell, dropping their weapons. The robed man glanced around him with alarm, and then he jerked and fell as well. Chavez. Seavers, and Federoff stepped out of the shadows, holding their stinger pistols.

“Nice work," said Lucas.

"What do you want us to do with them?"' asked Seavers, "Pull them back into the trees. They'll come around. But I want that one," he said, pointing to the robed man.

Chavez bent down and removed his mask. It was Moffat

"Know him?" he asked.

Lucas shook his head. "No. But he seemed to be the one in charge. He's working with Drakov."

"So Hunter was right, he
is
here." Seavers said.

"Yeah, he was inside," said Finn. "You want us to take the place?” asked Federoff.

"Are you kidding? There's seventy or eighty people in there and about half of them are women. There's no way I want to risk that. Besides, Drakov could easily clock out in all the confusion, if he hasn't already. No, have everyone pull back to the safehouse. We're taking this man with us for interrogation. I want him alone in one of the bedrooms, restrained, with the windows and drapes closed, so he won't know where he is. We don't know who he is, so let's not take any chances. He sees nobody who's not in colonial dress, understood?"

"Got it." Seavers said.

"Good. Move out." Within moments, they were all back in the safehouse, where Hunter was waiting for them with Linda and Andre. They had not risked leaving him alone. Hunter raised his eyebrows when he saw Federoff and Seavers carrying the unconscious robed man into the back bedroom on the upper floor.

“What the hell did you do, kidnap a monk'?" he said.

"One of the leaders of the Hellfire Club," said Lucas.

"You were right, Hunter. Drakov is here."

"You
saw
him?"

"No, but we heard his voice. I'd know that voice anywhere. It seems we owe you an apology. You were right all along."

"Don't mention it," Hunter said. "How well do you know Ebenezer Macintosh?"

asked Lucas.

"Mac? We're old drinkin' buddies, him and I. Why, what's up?"

"They've targeted him for assassination," said Delaney. "They're going to hang him. We've got to get to him first and warn him."

"I'm on my way," said Hunter.

"Neilson, you go with him;" Lucas said.

"Still don't trust me, huh?" said Hunter.

“No I just don't want to lose you." Lucas said. "You're the only one of us Macintosh knows, so you'll have to be the one to warn him, but by now, the Network's got to know something's gone wrong. They won't find any trace of Carruthers or the other two and you've dropped out of sight, so they'll be looking for you. I want you covered and Neilson's lightning with a gun and a crack shot.

Sean, take a stinger with you, but I'd rather you carried something with a bit more authority, as well. I see Hunter's got silencers for some of those pieces and I'd rather not risk using a laser or a plasma weapon on the streets of Boston."

"Help yourself, kid." Hunter said to Neilson.

Neilson walked over to the table and unhesitantly chose the .45 Colt Combat Commander. He started to attach the silencer.

"Wouldn't you like a bit more firepower?" Hunter said. "That only holds a seven-shot clip with room for one more in the chamber."

"If I can't get the job done with eight rounds. I probably won't get it done at all," said Neilson.

"But I'll take some spare clips, just in case."

"Go ahead and make your choice," Lucas said to Hunter.

Hunter glanced at him.

"Be my guest." said Lucas. He smiled. "Call it a gesture of good faith."

Hunter chose the Beretta 9 mm. He screwed a silencer onto the weapon and pocketed several spare clips. He slapped in a magazine, racked the slide and jacked a round into the chamber, and stuck it in his waistband, cocked and locked, in the “Mexican carry" mode. He picked up several spare magazines and slipped them in his pockets.

`"What do you think they'll do with Steiger?" he asked.