Carnival Of Mayhem Part 13

"Be careful, sir."

"Always."

Marina grabbed the phone and said, "One other thing, Edward. I'll need a ceremonial knife for tonight. It needs to be elaborate with lots of sharp points and real jewels. Make sure the edge is razor sharp. The most important detail is a homing device hidden in the hilt. Can you put that together and have somebody run it out to us before the meeting?"

"I'll get Nancy to work on it, ma'am," Edward said, "but it will be a rush job. Maybe not up to our usual standard."

"That's fine. Do the best you can as long as I get it in time."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chapter Nine.

Smythe felt like a new man. Ten hours of sleep, a hot shower, a shave, and a big meal had restored him. It was also nice to put on clean clothes, even if they weren't his own.

The "safe house" had proved safe indeed. n.o.body had bothered him at all. If anybody lived on the floor below, he had heard no evidence of it. He could almost forget he was a fugitive.

Now he had to make one of the most important decisions of his life. He could run. With guns, money, and other supplies taken from the apartment, he could get pretty far. However, Ethel had made it clear that she would come after him, and that was a frightening prospect. The unnatural darkness in her eyes still haunted his dreams.

Being wanted for murder didn't help his situation. Smythe couldn't go back to his house. If he tried to use a credit card or access his bank accounts, the police would immediately know his location. He couldn't even turn on his cell phone. If he wanted to stay out of prison, he would have to live on the margin of society, a vagabond with no name. That didn't sound like fun.

He needed a friend, but he didn't have any that he could rely on in a crisis. He realized he was much better at ruining relations.h.i.+ps than keeping them.

He had no choice. He picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card that Ethel had given him.

"Dr. Smythe," she said at once. "I hope you're rested and feeling better."

"Much," he said. "I suppose I should thank you for your hospitality."

"My pleasure. Welcome to the Gray Spear Society."

"The what?"

"That's us," she said, "and like everything else we do, our name is secret. Revealing it to a stranger is punishable by death."

He suspected she was just trying to scare him. "Come on."

"I'm not joking."

"How many people have you actually killed?"

"I lost count a long time ago. Thousands. Are you ready to work?"

"I never agreed to work for you," he said.

"I don't need your agreement," she said. "Aaron and Marina are investigating a lead tonight. I want you to help them."

"They're criminals."

"They're fine warriors and the best teammates you could hope for. Regardless, I'm giving you an order. Don't begin your new career with insubordination, or it will quickly end."

He frowned. "You keep threatening me."

"If you don't like to be threatened, that's fine. I won't do it again."

Smythe heard the implied message clearly. The next time Ethel needed to chastise him, she would just kill him instead.

"What is the mission?" he said in a low voice.

"It's simple. We want to know who is responsible for the illness you call PRooFS."

"Why?"

"Because it's interesting to us," she said. "We're concerned."

"Who are you? What do you do?"

"The Gray Spear Society is a global organization that protects the Earth from G.o.d's enemies. It's possible PRooFS has a supernatural origin. If so, we must stop it."

He took a deep breath. "Do you know how crazy that sounds? PRooFS is a medical crisis, not a religious one."

"I'm not going to give you an orientation lecture over the phone. We'll deal with that when you see our headquarters. In the meantime, just follow orders. Meet your new senior officers across the street from the Shroud of Steel Nightclub in Naperville at 9 PM sharp. They will give you additional instructions."

He clenched his jaw.

"h.e.l.lo?" she said. "I didn't hear a proper response to a commanding officer."

"Yes... ma'am."

Aaron looked across the street at the Shroud of Steel Nightclub. The entire front of the building was covered with sheets of rusty steel. There were no windows. Abstract images of guitars, drums, and screaming faces decorated the facade. He could tell music was playing because he could feel the drum beats through his feet. The sound level had to be deafening inside the club.

He checked his watch. "9:05. The rookie is late."

"Not a good start," Marina said.

Both of them were dressed for the occasion. She wore a leather bustier that showed plenty of cleavage, matching leather shorts, and boots with spike heels. Underneath the leather, a body stocking made of elastic, red fishnet covered everything but her hands and head. Aaron had to admit she looked s.e.xy, even though the biker s.l.u.t style didn't appeal to him.

He also wore too much leather, but his was brown instead of black. Dangling chains and rings added extra weight, and he clanked when he walked. For once he was glad for the cool weather because it kept him from sweating and stinking.

Timothy Smythe came around a corner and approached with a scowl on his face. His right hand hovered near his belt buckle, suggesting he carried a gun under his jacket.

"h.e.l.lo," Aaron said. "Welcome to the team."

Smythe looked like he wanted to puke. "What are we doing here?" he muttered.

"Gathering intelligence," Aaron said. "A group that calls itself the Order of Eternal Night will give a presentation inside that club. We believe they can tell us something about PRooFS."

"What kind of group is it?"

"They have a death fetish and drink blood. That's all we know."

"Sounds like a stupid cult."

"Put this on." Aaron handed Smythe a leather outfit similar to his own.

Smythe held the leather with his fingertips as if it were contaminated.

"Hey," Marina said, "you can stuff that att.i.tude."

"Don't tell me what to stuff. I spent too many years fighting in Afghanistan and too many years in medical school. I deserve respect."

"You're just a junior partner in this outfit until you prove yourself to us. Now put on your d.a.m.n costume." She glared.

Smythe snarled. "What about the clothes I'm wearing?"

"Throw them away, along with any identification in your pockets. You can't carry anything with your real name on it. You're deep undercover now."

Grumbling, he wandered off in search of a place to change.

After he was gone, Aaron said, "This will be a problem."

"Not a surprise," Marina said. "He has no reason to trust us. Fear and desperation are the only reasons he came at all."

Smythe returned ten minutes later, wearing his ridiculous leather and studs. Aaron couldn't believe that some people thought the look was fas.h.i.+onable.

"I have to ask you something," Smythe said. "Ethel claimed she has killed thousands of people. Is that true?"

"Absolutely," Aaron said. "She's the most terrifying person I know."

Smythe frowned and turned to Marina. "What's your opinion?"

"If she gives an order," she said calmly, "obey it, because if you mess with her, you'll be dead before you can blink."

"Hmm. She told me that you're the Gray Spear Society. Tell me about it. How big is it? What is the command structure?"

"We cover the globe. There are seven divisions with about twenty or thirty cells in each division. Our cell is based in downtown Chicago. Each cell has a commander, who is called a decurion. That's Ethel. She reports to a legatus legionis, who is responsible for all of North America."

"Are you backed by a government? Who funds you?"

"We are independent," she said, "and self-funding. The Lord provides for us."

"How does that work? Does G.o.d sign your paychecks?" He smirked.

She reached into her red leather purse and took out a velvet bag. "Take this." She handed it to him.

He poured the contents of the bag into his hand and diamonds spilled out. His eyes opened wide.

"The Lord may not sign actual checks," she said, "but He makes sure His bills get paid. Money is never an issue. Are you ready to work? It's cold out here."

He pushed the diamonds into his pocket. "Let's get this over with."

She led the way to the front door of the nightclub. Two bouncers guarded the door, and both wore black T-s.h.i.+rts and jeans despite the chilly weather. They had big, showy muscles that didn't impress Aaron. He judged they would be slow and clumsy in a fight.

"We're here to see the Order of Eternal Night," Marina said.

One of the bouncers nodded. "Follow me."

He opened the door of the club, and the noise that came out startled Aaron. It sounded like somebody attempting to play a guitar with a chainsaw. In the background a drummer was using a jackhammer on metal garbage cans.

He braced himself to enter the sonic torture chamber. The sacrifices I make for the mission, he thought. He followed the bouncer into the club.

The interior was dark, and it stank of stale beer and sweat. When his eyes adjusted, he saw men and women-mostly men-swaying with the so-called music. It was a young crowd, and he suspected that quite a few were not of legal drinking age. The dress code was leather, studs, and odd body piercings. It looked like the girls had applied their makeup with a spray can.

The band on stage wore leather underwear, sweat, and nothing else.

Aaron followed the bouncer through an unmarked door and up a flight of stairs. The noise level went down considerably, which relieved Aaron. They came to a medium sized room with a raised stage in the center. All the light came from spotlights focused on a table on the stage.

The meeting already had a few dozen attendees waiting for the presentation. Aaron judged that all of them were teenagers. He, Marina, and Smythe were the oldest people in the room by far, and they received plenty of curious looks. Aaron was glad for the poor lighting.

"I feel like an old lady," Marina muttered.

"What the h.e.l.l are we doing?" Smythe said quietly. "Is this a joke? Are you hazing me?"

"No," Aaron said. "This is our best lead."

"This is a lead? I'm compelled to question your investigative skills."

"Hey, buddy. For your information I was a Chicago cop for years, and I put more than my share of crooks behind bars. I'm a d.a.m.n fine investigator."

"You were a cop?" Smythe raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Aaron said in a low voice that was almost inaudible above the music. "So, you might give me the benefit of the doubt. You need to calm down and stop being an a.s.shole. We're on the same team now."

"I don't like you or your organization."

"Then leave. You're not helping."

"Ethel would kill me," Smythe said.