Psychological Damage (Gray Spear Society) Read online

  Norbert continued his exploration alone. He would face the dangers on behalf of his men, so Huttenlocher couldn't accuse him of being a coward.

  Norbert looked down another long hallway. A team of three soldiers was preparing to go through a door. Two men stood on either side with their assault rifles ready. The third kicked the door open and charged forward. Norbert heard a thump, and a decapitated head rolled out the doorway. Horrified, he turned away.

  "We humbly beseech Thy mercy," he whispered. "That Thou would place the soul of Thy departed servant into the region of peace and light. Amen."

  Norbert continued forward and found a control room with hundreds of buttons and switches, but everything was turned off. A grid of video display panels covered most of a wall. It looked like a very sophisticated security station. A closet contained an astonishing collection of weapons, including a couple of AT4 rocket launchers. There was a pile of gold bullion on the floor.

  He furrowed his brow.

  There were only two reasons to leave so much gold behind. The first was the enemy had fled in haste. However, he didn't see any coffee cups, food wrappers, or other litter he would expect in that case. He touched the seat of the chair in the room. It was cold. He looked under the console and saw that all the electrical plugs had been pulled out.

  The second possibility was the enemy didn't care about the gold. They had so much money and power they could afford to abandon the heavy bullion. That idea made Norbert nervous.

  He looked through a huge window made of glass two inches thick. The room on the other side was unlit.

  He spoke into his radio, "Captain Huttenlocher, I'm starting to think the enemy has been gone for quite a while."

  "I agree," Huttenlocher replied, "but they left plenty of traps which are slowing us down. I think we'll be done with our initial sweep in a few minutes though, and then we can start collecting evidence. There is a lot to collect."

  "Have you seen any sign of devil worship?"

  "No, but they have a nice scientific laboratory and a gymnasium. This place is very impressive. I wouldn't mind working here."

  Norbert was confused. So far no part of this attack had gone according to his expectations.

  A team of four soldiers entered the dark room on the other side of the window. They carried flashlights in one hand and assault rifles in the other. Norbert admired their discipline as they moved in formation.

  He heard the sound of glass breaking. The soldiers aimed their flashlights at the floor, illuminating puddles of liquid mixed with glass shards. Norbert was very glad the soldiers wore gasmasks.

  The masks didn't save them though. Within seconds the soldiers' limbs began to twitch. They tried to leave, but the door was locked. They were trapped in a room with some kind of nerve gas. All they could do was pound uselessly on the thick window and yell for help. Norbert's heart was in his throat as he watched them collapse and die.

  He smelled smoke. Suddenly, he understood.

  He grabbed his radio. "Get out!" he yelled. "Everybody get out! It's a death trap! The enemy knew we were coming! We're all going to die!"

  He ran out of the control room. An entire wall burst into flame, forcing him to cover his face. The air was suddenly very hot.

  "Norbert!" Huttenlocher responded. "What are doing? I give the orders!"

  Norbert reached the kitchen. Monks were standing around with confused expressions.

  "Go up!" he bellowed. "Move!"

  The monks began to climb the rope ladders.

  Norbert was having trouble breathing as pungent smoke trickled in through ventilation ducts. The monks climbed faster.

  He felt like a complete idiot. The enemy had abandoned this place hours, maybe even days ago. Naturally, they had left nasty surprises behind, thus neatly solving the problem of how to annihilate the Brotherhood. Norbert should've grasped the truth much sooner. Lord God, he thought, please save us from our own stupidity.

  Three soldiers managed to reach the kitchen. They were coughing violently, and burns marked the exposed skin on their hands and faces.

  "What's going on?" Norbert said.

  One of the soldiers shook his head. "The fire is moving fast. Everything is burning. We barely got through."

  If was Norbert's turn to climb the ladders, but he allowed the soldiers to go first. He deserved to be the last man to escape.

  He spoke into his radio. "Captain Huttenlocher, what's your status?"

  "I'm trapped in some kind of workshop," Huttenlocher answered in a weak voice. "I found a wallet..." The rest was static.

  "Captain?" Norbert banged his radio. "Are you there?"

  Huttenlocher didn't respond.

  Finally, Norbert started up a rope ladder. Mud oozed from the walls and made his grip uncertain. Hot, smoky air blew up the hole like a chimney. His eyes watered so much he could barely see. This is the hellish pit I was expecting, he thought.

  He climbed out of the hole and took a couple of deep breaths. The men around him waited anxiously for new orders, but unfortunately, he had none to give. He stood straight and put on a brave expression instead. He tried not to think about the magnitude of the disaster.

  He looked down the hole and saw a steady, red glow. It was an inferno down there. Surely, everybody was dead and all the evidence was destroyed.

  One of the rope ladders began to shake.

  "Help me!" Norbert yelled.

  He and several monks hauled the rope ladder up. A man was hanging from it by one hand, but his face was so charred it was hard to tell his identity. Norbert realized it was Captain Huttenlocher. In his free hand he held a wallet.

  They managed to pull him out of the hole. The captain's breathing was ragged and yellow fluid seeped from horrifying burns. His hair was completely gone. He wouldn't survive much longer.

  "We need some kind of stretcher!" Norbert said. "Quickly!"

  The monks scrambled to comply.

  Norbert examined the wallet. A driver's license inside had a picture of a black man with short wiry hair and glasses. There was an address.

  He heard distant thunder. Dust drifted down from the pipes in the steam tunnel. What was that? Norbert wondered.

  He heard rushing water, growing louder. He remembered they were below the level of the water table and very near the Chicago River. A well placed bomb would allow water to finish the job fire had started.

  "Run!" he yelled.

  He glanced at Captain Huttenlocher but there was nothing Norbert could do. Sorry, he thought. He sprinted down the tunnel.

  By the time he had travelled about fifty paces, the sound had grown to a roar. He glanced back and saw a geyser exploding out of the hole. Hot stream blew over him. Then came a wall of turbulent water and burnt debris, moving much faster than he could run. His feet were swept from under him at the same instant the lights went out.

  Suddenly, he was in a world of total darkness, water, and pain. He flailed helplessly as he was carried along. It was all he could do to hold his breath and not panic. He had no idea which way was up or down.

  Soon his lungs were burning. Lord Jesus, please do not let it end like this.

  He saw lights. The turbulence subsided enough for him to raise his head above the water. He took a huge breath of sweet air.

  He washed up onto a concrete staircase like a piece of driftwood. Even though his body was bruised and possibly injured, he forced himself to stand and climb. His head was spinning. All he wanted was to see the sky again.

  He realized he was still holding the wallet in his right hand. The Brotherhood had paid a very steep price for the solitary piece of evidence. It better be worth it, he thought.

  * * *

  Edward stared at the mess of wires, motors, gears, glass bulbs, flywheels, and other odd mechanical components on his kitchen table. He never put actual food on this table. As far as he was concerned, it was just another work surface. He usually ate standing over the sink or in front of the television on the rare occasion when he at
e at home.

  The Gray Spear Society had a strict policy against bringing work home, so this project was entirely personal. For the last year had he tried to build a perpetual motion machine. He knew it was physically impossible, but it kept his mind active when he had nothing else to do. He had tried many different designs.

  At present he was investigating so called "zero point energy." Two thin sheets of gold foil were suspended by threads inside a vacuum tube. The sheets were so close together they appeared to be touching, but there was a tiny gap between them. Somehow that gap was supposed to do strange, quantum mechanical things and create usable energy. Edward didn't believe it. At least he had seen no evidence of it, but he would keep tweaking the device just for fun.

  He heard a small sound outside his front door. Somebody was there, but couldn't imagine who might be visiting. He didn't have any friends outside of the Society. Only Ethel knew his current address, and she was always as silent as a ghost.

  Edward grabbed his phone. It was his lifeline to rescue.

  The door burst open. Men with guns poured in.

  Edward pressed the emergency button on his phone, but then he realized it wouldn't work. The emergency system depended on equipment in headquarters, which was probably destroyed by now.

  He ran to the kitchen window and opened a hidden panel above. A rope ladder dropped down, the top still attached to the wall. He opened the window and tossed the bottom of the ladder outside. He was half-way out when he heard a voice behind him.

  "Freeze, or we'll kill you, you fucking devil worshiper."

  Edward froze.

  The men grabbed him roughly and slapped handcuffs on him. Edward wasn't much of a fighter, and he certainly couldn't handle several adversaries at once, so he didn't resist.

  The men wore an odd assortment of street clothes, and some had flak jackets. All of them had serious cuts, bruises, or black eyes.

  They searched Edward thoroughly and placed the contents of his pockets into a plastic bag. When his cell phone was taken away, he felt almost physical pain from the loss. He needed that phone to call for help.

  He was hustled down to the street and shoved into the back of a waiting limousine. Two large men held his arms even though he still wore handcuffs. The limousine pulled away.

  Two other men sat across from Edward. One had withered skin and age spots on his bald head. He wore a brown cassock and carried an antique, wooden cane. Edward recognized Father Reginald Wulfram from pictures he had seen. The Brotherhood, Edward thought. How did they find me?

  The man beside the priest was much younger. Bruises and scrapes marked his face, and bloody bandages covered his left knee. He wore jeans and a button shirt. He looked surprisingly big and strong for a man of the Church. He glared at Edward with obvious hatred.

  Father Wulfram held up a brown wallet. "I believe this is yours. You left it at the office. Fortunately, your driver's license had your current address." He tossed the wallet onto Edward's lap.

  Edward had a sick feeling in his gut. The evacuation from headquarters had proceeded very rapidly once the order had been given. The team could only take what they could carry. He wasn't surprised he had forgotten a cheap wallet containing some false identification and a little cash. The only problem was it had his real address. He had to get his mail after all, and the simplest solution was to have it delivered to his apartment.

  He struggled to maintain a calm, confident expression.

  "According to your license and credit cards," Wulfram said, "you're Frank Garvey, but I'm sure that's not your real name. What should we call you?"

  "Frank will do," Edward said.

  He had nothing to gain by telling the truth. The Brotherhood needed information from him, and they would kill him once they got it. The longer he held out, the longer he would survive.

  The man on his right spoke in a deep voice. "He wasn't carrying any weapons. This was the only item of interest." He handed Edward's phone to Wulfram.

  Wulfram examined the phone critically and pressed a few buttons. "It's locked. What's the password?"

  "I forgot." Edward shrugged.

  "I admire your bravery but it won't do you any good. You'll cooperate fully before long."

  Wulfram handed the phone back. The other man turned it off, causing Edward's heart to skip a beat. Now the signal couldn't be traced.

  Edward forced himself to calm down. "I have a question," he said. "If you visited my 'office,' how did you get out alive?"

  "Many did not," Wulfram said, "Fortunately, God interceded and saved most of us."

  I doubt that, Edward thought. "Is that why you're all so beat up?"

  "Yes," Wulfram said. "Now I have a question for you. Why are you protecting the Luciferian Child?"

  "Why do you want to murder him?"

  Wulfram raised his eyebrows. "You're familiar with our work?"

  "You're Reginald Wulfram, head of the Brotherhood. You have a lot of friends in the Vatican."

  "What else do you know?"

  "You'll be dead before this is over," Edward said.

  Wulfram snorted. "A pathetic threat."

  "I'm just stating a fact. All of you will be killed. You don't stand a chance against us."

  "I'm sure the Devil has many powerful demons at his command, but the Almighty will protect us. Our mission will succeed."

  "You think I work for the Devil?" Edward smiled. "Wow. You really are confused."

  "Then enlighten me."

  "I wish I could, really, but we have rules about telling the truth to outsiders."

  "The Brotherhood will keep you safe from harm," Wulfram said.

  Edward chuckled. "Bullshit."

  The priest settled back in his chair and remained silent. Edward looked out windows and tried to guess their destination. The road signs told him they were travelling south.

  Even though he didn't show it, he was very frightened. Ethel might not know he was missing for a couple of days. Furthermore, the team had no headquarters and most of the equipment was destroyed, making a search and rescue mission difficult at best.

  The limousine eventually parked in front of a three story brick building near the border of Illinois and Indiana. Some of the windows were boarded and some were broken. Vines covered half the building. Native weeds had taken over the lawn, leaving room for only a few tufts of grass.

  Edward was shoved inside. He found himself in the waiting room of an abandoned hospital. Water and bird droppings had damaged the furniture.

  Father Wulfram entered a couple of minutes later in a wheelchair. A shawl covered his thin body. Two big men with shaved heads followed, and one was pushing the priest.

  "Until three years ago, this was the Avanessian Wellness Center," he explained. "It was closed due to scandal and malpractice. Too many unnecessary surgeries. Too much unnecessary pain. This will be your home for a while, perhaps the rest of your life. Come along."

  Edward had no choice but to follow. He was still handcuffed, and two strong men still held his arms.

  They walked down a hallway with stained moldy carpet. He looked into a room on his right and saw shelves packed with thousands of folders. Each was tagged with bright colors. They looked like the medical records of former patients.

  The depressing tour ended in a room shaped like a giant, horizontal cylinder. The metal walls were painted white.

  "This is a hyperbaric chamber," Wulfram said. "It's solid steel all the way around. Effectively soundproof and escape-proof."

  The men removed Edward's handcuffs but immediately replaced them with shackles on his wrists and ankles. He was chained to a thick pipe on the floor.

  The Brotherhood left the chamber. The door closed with a loud clang, and he heard the locking mechanism engage.

  He took a deep, shaky breath.

  Chapter Twelve

  Marina shifted her oversized purse to a position she hoped would be more comfortable. The strap was cutting into her shoulder, but the weight couldn't be helped. S
he was rolling heavy tonight.

  She walked through the glittering entrance of the Mississippi Casino. Technically, it was a riverboat, but it hadn't moved a millimeter since its construction. It only took a moment for the clanging of slot machines to annoy her. She had never understood why people liked these places. They just gave her a headache and made her feel depressed.

  Fortunately, she didn't plan to stay long. She walked straight to nearest cashier, her high heels clicking on the marble floor. She wore a red evening dress that was too sheer for the cool air inside the casino, and she rubbed her bare arms to keep warm.

  The cashier was an older man, and he wore a tuxedo that struck her as ridiculously formal. He sat in a cage made of steel bars and bullet proof glass.

  She spoke through an opening in the glass. "I need some chips." She raised her voice to make sure everybody heard.

  "We take cash, credit cards, and pay checks," the cashier replied in a monotone.

  "Uh, I don't have any money."

  Without blinking he passed a piece of paper through a slot. "Fill out this credit application."

  She grimaced. "Do I have to?"

  "You want a loan, don't you?"

  She scratched her neck and made a face.

  "Is there a problem, ma'am?" the cashier asked.

  "A little one," she said loudly. "My credit rating is pretty bad."

  He sighed. "Please, move along."

  "I just want to have some fun! I dressed up and everything." She turned to show off her clingy dress. Her black panties could be seen through the thin fabric.

  The other people in the lobby were starting to notice her.

  "Ma'am," the cashier said, "if you don't have any money, I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

  "I don't want to leave. This place has the best action in the city. All I need is a little money to get started. I'll pay you back. I swear!"

  A big man in a blue suit came over. He took her arm with a firm grip. "Ma'am," he said, "it's time for you to go."

  Marina grabbed the cashier's cage with her free hand. "No! Give me money!"