Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (9 page)

"Edward," Ethel said, "do you have a spare phone?"

He grabbed a cell phone off of a shelf and handed it to Aaron.

"Hefty," Aaron said.

The phone was about twice as thick as the one he normally carried, and it felt as solid as a brick. The gray metal surface had the rainbow sheen of brushed titanium.

"Shockproof and waterproof," Edward said, "with a super long battery life. The special high gain antenna will pick up a signal almost anywhere, and you can use it all over the world."

"Who pays for the service?"

Edward gave Aaron a funny look. "Don't worry about that, sir. There are lots of special features. The most important is the panic button. If you get into trouble, hold the five down for a few seconds. We'll immediately send a rescue team."

"How will they find me?" Aaron said.

"The phone has three kinds of position tracking, including GPS. Another important feature is encryption. If you call another member of the Society, the connection will be secure. There is no way anybody can tap into your conversation." Edward gave Aaron a paper pamphlet. "Read these instructions and then burn them."

"That phone is your lifeline," Ethel said. "Always keep it with you. Eat with it, sleep with it, and take it into the shower. A
legionnaire
wouldn't be caught dead without his phone. Let's go."

"Wait," Aaron said. "What about my wallet? My credit cards?"

"Paid off and cancelled," Edward said. "I'm already in the process of destroying your real identity. Nothing in that wallet is useful to you now. Your old life is gone."

"But how am I going to live?" They had no right to erase his life without even bothering to tell him first.

"You'll get a new identity with new credit cards tomorrow, sir. If you want some cash in the meantime, Jack will give you as much as you need."

"What about my apartment?" Aaron said.

"We'll make new living arrangements for you under a fake name. Use your existing apartment for a few more days."

"I have friends, parents."

"You'll never see them again," Ethel said. "It's safer for everybody that way. Trust me."

"But you can't...."

"We can and we did. Deal with it."

Aaron was speechless. Ethel nudged him, and they left the room. She took him back to the garage.

As he entered, he discovered his car was gone. Then he saw it on the service lift, and Nancy was working underneath.

"What are you doing to my car?"

"It desperately needed a complete tune-up, sir," she said. "I'll lube the chassis while I'm at it. This is a classic car, and you should take better care of it."

Nancy had a thick body but she didn't look fat. Frizzy brown hair stuck out from her head in odd ways. She wore blue jean coveralls with grease stains on the front. Her big lips were curved in a pleasant smile.

Aaron couldn't complain about getting his car fixed for free, even though he wished she had asked him first. It seemed that everybody around here assumed his opinion didn't matter.

He turned to Ethel. "How am I getting home?"

"All the cars in this garage are available to you now," she said. "Take any one you want, any time you need it."

"Do I have to fill out a form?"

"No. The keys are in the ignition. Insurance and registration is in the glove compartment."

"Nice." His gaze settled on a black Corvette.

"Before you go, one last thing," she said. "You've already heard it, but it needs to be repeated. Secrecy is essential to us. All our operations are covert. When we leave this headquarters, we become anonymous. I can forgive a few honest mistakes and lapses in judgment. However, at some point..." Suddenly, her hand was on his throat, and her face was very close to his. "...there will be no forgiveness."

He jerked backwards in surprise. She had moved faster than his eyes could follow.

She stepped back. "Get a good night's sleep and be ready for a tough day tomorrow. I'm really glad you're with us."

He didn't know how to respond. He felt anxious, excited, afraid, and intimidated, all at the same time. Either, this was the luckiest day of his life or the worst. He just nodded dumbly.

Chapter Six

Aaron opened the door of his apartment. He was already thinking about the quick dinner he would prepare for himself before going to bed. He had jars of peanut butter and jelly and a loaf of fresh sourdough bread. He might also make a fruit smoothie from some overripe apples and bananas if he felt ambitious.

An unexpected breeze caught his attention before he turned on the light. A window was broken, the one leading to the fire escape. Somebody had entered his apartment.

Old habits made Aaron reach for his holster. Then he remembered he wasn't a cop anymore, and he wasn't carrying a gun. He realized he should've armed himself before leaving headquarters.

He did have his fancy new phone though. Quietly, he held the five key down, hoping that the "panic" button would work as advertised. It was hard to see in the dark, but the layout was standard, so he was confident he had chosen the right button. After a few seconds there was a beep.

Suddenly, the lights came on. Strong hands grabbed him before his eyes had time to adjust, and a cloth gag was stuffed into his mouth. He struggled, but there were at least four attackers and they were big. Very quickly, he was bound to a chair, unable to move his arms or legs.

The intruders wore green sweat suits, had shaved heads, and had green tattoos on their faces.
The cult
, Aaron thought. He counted six men, but perhaps more were hiding out of sight.

The biggest man punched Aaron hard in the face. Two more stunning blows followed soon after.

The cult member opened his mouth and revealed yellow teeth with a few prominent gaps. "I'm going to take the gag out," he said with a snarl. "Make a sound, and I'll hit you so hard you'll have to eat through a straw. Got it?"

Aaron nodded. The gag came out, and he worked his sore jaw.

"We know you were at the sanctuary during the tear gas attack," the cult member said. "Don't try to lie about that. Brittany told us all about you. Who attacked us?"

Aaron grasped the bleak implications of the last sentence. Brittany had escaped from her parents and had returned to the cult.

He needed a story fast. "The sheriff's department," he said in a confident voice.

"Nobody saw any cops," the cult member said.

"There were plenty hiding in the woods." Aaron nodded to emphasize the point.

He was punched in the gut, driving air from his lungs. He coughed and tasted stomach acid. Fear and anger made him pull against the ropes, but they were wrapped too tightly around his wrists.

"I want the truth."

"OK," Aaron gasped. "Just let me breathe."

He needed time. Hopefully, rescue was on the way, but it would take several minutes at best, if the signal had been received at all.
Stay positive
, he thought.

"There is a folder in my files," Aaron said. "It will explain everything."

"Where?" The cult member looked towards the corner of the loft containing the desk and file cabinets.

"Let me get it for you."

"No way."

"There are six of you and one of me," Aaron said. "What are you worried about?"

The thug shook his head.

"Do you want to spend hours picking through my files trying to find the right one? I have thousands. If you untie me, we can get this done in a few minutes. Nice and quiet. You can just take the folder and go. It will answer all your questions."

He appeared to think about it.

"I'm just a private eye, not a hero," Aaron said. "I won't sacrifice my life for a client. Come on. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt me again."

Finally, the thug nodded, and his friends untied Aaron. Aaron stood up and rubbed his sore wrists.

"Get moving!"

"Sure," Aaron said. "No problem."

He walked over to his office area. He had purchased several large cabinets with the expectation of filling them with important case files. The sad reality was that he had barely filled two drawers so far. Nonetheless, he made a show of opening those drawers and searching through folders. He started at the front and worked his way to the back, taking time to read the label of each one.

"Hurry up!" the thug said.

"I'm looking. It's in here. I'll find it."

Aaron reached the end of the files. He frowned, sighed, and started over at the beginning.

"You have one minute," the thug growled.

"Oh, I know where it is! On my nightstand."

Aaron kept a snub-nosed revolver in his nightstand. He walked quickly in that direction while trying to appear calm. The cult members just watched. He leapt the last few paces, opened the drawer, and reached inside, but the gun was gone.
Where is it?
he thought.

"Looking for this?" The thug took the revolver out of the pocket of his green sweatshirt.

Aaron's shoulders sagged. "You can't blame a guy for trying."

The cult members approached Aaron menacingly.

He noticed his front door was slowly and silently opening. He threw a lamp at a wall to create a momentary distraction, and it hit with a satisfying crash.

Victor and Marina walked into the apartment. Both carried semi-automatic pistols with suppressors, and they started shooting at once. The distinctive click and hiss of silenced weapons spurred Aaron into motion. He dove behind his bed, the nearest available cover.

"It's over," Victor said just seconds later. "You can come out."

Aaron cautiously stood up. Six bodies lay on the floor with wounds in their heads, and blood was leaking into his fairly new carpet. As far as he could tell, not one bullet had missed its target.
Very nice shooting
, he thought.

"Are you injured?" Marina said.

He shook his head. "Just roughed up."

"What were they doing here?"

"Brittany told them I was at the compound during the tear gas attack. They wanted information."

She nodded. "So Brittany escaped back to the cult."

"I appreciate being rescued," he said, "and you certainly did an effective job, but did you have to kill all of them?"

"What else would we do?" She tilted her head and seemed confused.

"Arrest them?" He shrugged.

Victor laughed out loud. "That's funny. You should be packing a suitcase."

"Why?" Aaron said.

"You're leaving in five minutes and never coming back. This location is unsafe."

"What about my stuff? My whole life is here. What about the dead bodies?"

"You have four minutes and forty-five seconds left. Move!"

Aaron wasn't about to argue with a man who had just committed multiple murders in cold blood. Aaron grabbed a suitcase from under his bed and began to fill it up.

Meanwhile, Marina stood guard by the door. Victor used his phone to report their status to Ethel.

"Ethel has a question," he called out. "How did the cult know where you live? Did you tell Brittany?"

"No," Aaron said. "I didn't even give her my last name. Only her parents knew..." He had a sick feeling. "We need to get over to their house right away!"

He tried to hurry his packing, but it was hard to know what to bring. Would he ever have a chance to get more of his stuff? He froze for a moment, indecisive about what to grab next.

"Don't worry about what to pack," Marina said. "You'll get the money to buy new clothes and anything else you need. Just bring enough for the next few days."

He focused on personal mementos that could never be replaced. He took a box of medals and awards that he had earned as a police officer, even though the memories were bittersweet. There was also the first black belt he had ever worn. He wanted some of his family photos, but the frames were bulky, so he was forced to settle for just the three most important. He desperately wished he had more time.

A couple of minutes later, Victor announced it was time to leave. On the way out of the apartment, Aaron gave it one last look. He liked the place and was very sorry to lose it.

Aaron immediately drove his car to the Waters' house, fearing what he might find there. Marina accompanied him, but Victor went back to his own home to get some sleep. They still had a meeting scheduled for very early in the morning.

Aaron and Marina arrived at the Waters' house. Police cars with flashing lights were parked on the street in front, and there was police tape across the front door.

"I'll check it out," Marina said as she stepped out of the car.

"I'll go with you," Aaron said.

"Information gathering is my specialty, and your face looks like raw beef. Stay out of sight."

She approached the nearest police officer and started chatting with him. Aaron was amazed at the transformation in her body language. Suddenly, she was a sweet young woman with a coy smile. She kept averting her eyes and covering her mouth as if intimidated by the cop's potent manliness. He puffed out his chest proudly as he explained the situation to her in serious tones. She gasped with an expression of horror, and he put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Aaron shook his head. Just a little while ago, the same woman had laid waste to a room full of thugs.

She returned and sat in the car. "Brittany's parents are gone. There is evidence of forced entry. The police believe they were kidnapped."

"Do they know the cult is responsible?" Aaron said.

"No, and we won't tell them."

"Are you kidding? The police need that information!"

She grabbed his arm, and her black fingernails scratched his skin. "This is a Spears investigation. We will keep the authorities out of it."

"Why?" he said. "Is that official policy?"

"We're already racking up a body count, and it will get worse. Our missions always get very messy towards the end. If the cops are involved, they'll just get butchered in the cross-fire."

"What about Frank and Caroline Waters? If we don't tell the police about the cult, then it's our responsibility to rescue them."

"Fine, but they're a secondary objective. Simon is our top priority. Once we take him out, the rest should fall into place."