Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (25 page)

"It's headed east!" he said.

He opened the throttle of his own boat and pursued. The rooster tail turned out to be a tremendous help. Not only did it allow him to follow from much farther back without losing his quarry, but it blocked visibility to the rear of the speedboat. The cult members couldn't see Aaron as long as he stayed directly behind the spray.

Marina's phone rang. She crouched down to get out of the wind. She took off her wig because it kept getting in the way. He couldn't hear the conversation over the ferocious engine noise, but it didn't last long.

After the call ended, she stood up and spoke directly into his ear. "Edward intercepted an emergency message sent by Hoskins to the U.S. Coast Guard. He ordered them to stop the speedboat by any means necessary."

"Is that good?" he said.

"No, it's very bad. We need to know where that boat is going, and we absolutely
do not
need more involvement by the authorities." She shook her head. "What a nightmare."

The pursuit continued at full speed. Aaron pushed his boat as hard as he could, but it just wasn't fast enough, and the cult speedboat started to get too far ahead. In frustration, he threw his red turban into the lake.

Just when he thought he might have to give up, he spotted a much larger ship ahead. The white and red paint marked it as a Coast Guard vessel. He killed his engines and drifted to a stop.

The big ship fired a shell across the bow of the speedboat, and the booming noise was loud even to Aaron, half a mile away. The speedboat turned hard and stopped.

His ears were used to the constant roar of an engine, and the sudden silence seemed loud. The Coast Guard vessel remained in place about a hundred yards away from the speedboat. Nobody was moving.

"What should we do?" Aaron said.

Marina shrugged. "I'll call Ethel."

"You can't get a signal out here. We're in the middle of Lake Michigan."

"Our phones can get a signal anywhere."

She made her call and pushed the speakerphone button so he could hear too.

"What's your status?" Ethel asked.

"A Coast Guard cutter stopped the enemy boat," Marina said, "but they're still separated, ma'am."

"Maybe the Coast Guard is waiting for Hoskins to get out there. According to Edward, he rented a couple of boats a short while ago."

"Sounds like he wants to make the arrests in person."

"Not a surprise," Aaron said. "If I were Hoskins, I wouldn't want the Coast Guard screwing up my bust, especially after the bad guys shot at me. I'd want to see their faces when I slapped on the handcuffs. I'd also want to be the first person to look inside those duffle bags."

"Regardless," Ethel said, "this situation is deteriorating quickly. Continue to observe. Call me if you have anything new to report."

Marina closed her phone.

"What did she mean by 'deteriorating quickly?'" Aaron asked.

"There are way too many civilians getting involved in a Spears mission. It's going to get ugly."

They waited as the sun dropped slowly towards the horizon. The only sound was waves slapping against the hull.

He heard engines in the distance. Two more boats were approaching at high speed.

"That must be Hoskins," Marina said.

The new arrivals suddenly veered towards her and Aaron.

"Shit!" he said. "He spotted us. Should we run?"

"No," she said. "Let him talk to us. Maybe we'll learn something useful."

"He'll try to arrest us again."

"Yes, he'll try."

The DEA flanked Aaron's boat on both sides. Hoskins had brought five other men with him, for a total of three men in each of his two boats. They wore blue body armor over T-shirts and jeans. In the orange light of sunset, Hoskins looked exhausted. He had black circles under his eyes, sagging cheeks, and uncombed hair.

"You two!" he said angrily. "I should've guessed. You're like a bad habit I can't get rid of."

"The same goes for you," Marina said. "Did you catch the guy who delivered the explosives earlier today?"

He stared at her. "You're well informed."

"Of course."

"You're not getting away from me this time," he said. "There are six of us plus an entire Coast Guard cutter against just two of you. Unless you have a submarine, you're alone out here. Dead or alive, we will take you in."

"I suggest you deal with the cult first. You'll have better luck with them. Actually, it would be even better if you just ran away and forgot about this whole thing."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because there is a slim chance it could save your life," Marina said. "Did you interrogate the delivery guy? What did he tell you?"

Hoskins paused. "This wasn't his first delivery. He made many, many others. Simon purchased several tons of high explosives and other ordinance."

"Strange behavior for drug dealers, don't you think?"

"Tell me the truth. What's going on here?"

"The truth?" She looked up at the sky. Sunlight made her pale freckled skin glow. "God wants you to leave."

"Huh?" He raised his eyebrows.

"He doesn't need your help. You shouldn't be here. This is our job, not yours."

"So, God wants you to stay and me to leave."

"That's exactly right." She nodded.

He rolled his eyes. "Enough of this shit." He looked at his three men in the other boat. "Stay here and watch these jokers," he ordered. "If they do anything, shoot them. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the three replied.

Hoskins drove his own boat towards the speedboat with the two cult members on board. The Coast Guard cutter converged at the same time.

Take it nice and slow
, Aaron thought. He had a bad feeling.

The engine on the speedboat roared to life. With a huge spray of water, it jetted towards the cutter at suicidal speed. Hoskins accelerated his own boat on an intercept course, and everybody converged towards the same spot.

The speedboat exploded into a fireball. Aaron felt searing heat on his face, and a blast of hot air ruffled his clothes. The size of the explosion was like nothing he had ever seen. The hull of the cutter was torn open, allowing water to flood the lower decks. An inferno made of burning fuel gushed out and spread across the lake. Hoskins and his men were caught in the middle of the fire, which didn't matter because the blast had already killed them.

Aaron heard three rapid gunshots at close range. He turned to find that Marina was holding a smoking pistol. The three DEA agents that had remained behind were dead, each shot in the head. She fired a few more times at the hull below the waterline, clearly intending to send their boat to the bottom of the lake.

The Coast Guard cutter sank while Aaron watched. There were dozens of men in the water, but they were either dead already or being burned alive by the spreading fuel. Distant cries of pain filled the hazy air. It was the most horrifying thing Aaron had ever seen.

"Get us out of here!" Marina ordered.

"But what if there are survivors?"

"Then they'll drown! Only two people are leaving this battlefield: you and me."

She shoved him aside and grabbed the controls of their boat. She drove west at full speed.

He looked back at the scene of fire and death. The cutter had almost disappeared under the water. There were no lifeboats. Feeling sick, he sat down.

"You froze back there," she said. "That's unacceptable."

"I didn't freeze," he said. "I had a normal human reaction. I felt compassion! Is that unacceptable now? Why did you kill those three men?"

"Because they were distracted. It was my opportunity."

"You murdered federal agents in cold blood."

"I wasn't about to let them arrest us. We're past the point where we can afford any more delays. I told Hoskins to go away. I don't know how I could've been more explicit. This is what always happens when outsiders stick their nose in our business!"

He didn't know what to say to her. Images of death crowded his mind and destroyed his ability to think rationally.

"Make yourself useful," Marina said. "Call Ethel and report our situation."

He took out his phone and punched in Ethel's number with no enthusiasm.

"Hello?" Ethel said.

"Everybody is dead, ma'am."

"Marina?"

"No, no," Aaron said. "She's fine. Everybody else is dead."

"How?"

"The cult members blew up their own boat. I guess those duffle bags were packed with explosives. The fireball was big enough to take out the Coast Guard cutter. Then Marina finished off the DEA agents. Oh, one other thing. Hoskins talked to us before he died. He said Simon purchased tons more explosives. They must be building a gigantic bomb."

"I see." Ethel paused. "Get back here as fast as you can."

"We'll try, ma'am. We're pretty far out in the lake, so it might be a while."

"Victor and I have to attack now, while we still have the advantage of surprise."

"Don't wait for me," he said. "I've had my fill of action."

Chapter Eighteen

Victor watched Ethel finish her phone call.

"Did you hear what Aaron told me?" she asked.

"I heard enough." He stood up. "Let's go."

"There are three cult members left in the house and two federal agents in the van."

"I'll take out the feds by myself, ma'am."

"Aren't we eager tonight?" She raised her eyebrows.

He cracked his knuckles. "I've been sitting in this fucking garage too long. I need to get my blood moving."

"Just do it very quietly. There are neighbors all around, and I don't want any of them calling the cops because they see or hear something."

"Yes, ma'am."

He walked out of the garage and into the night. The sun had just set. The air was warm and moist, fine weather for killing. Garbage cans behind a neighboring house emitted the odor of rotting food.

He rolled his shoulders and popped his neck as he moved. He should've taken the time to stretch and warm up properly, but his adrenaline was pumping, and he didn't want to wait.

He paused when he reached the sidewalk. About seventy yards to his left, the brown van was parked on the street. Two DEA agents were inside. He had to kill both of them before either had a chance to fire a shot or yell for help.

Victor performed a tactical analysis. The targets were in a static location with limited visibility, which meant he could get close. He carried five weapons: two knives and three guns. He decided to use his fists instead for the fun of it. His great strength allowed him to kill with just one punch. Even an inaccurate blow would stun his opponent for several seconds, long enough for him to finish the job.

He tore off long strips of black cloth from his shirt and wrapped them tightly around his knuckles. He hated getting bloody knuckles. They hurt, they aroused suspicion, and they sometimes became infected. As a young man he had believed open wounds were a sign of toughness, and he had displayed them proudly to his friends. Now he understood that any injury was the mark of an amateur. A true professional never looked like he had been in a fight.

He walked towards the van at a casual pace. He hoped anybody who saw him would assume he was just taking an evening stroll.

He went around to the rear of the van and boldly knocked on the door. "Hello! I know you're in there. Come out where I can see you."

A male voice responded, "Who is it?"

"The police. We received a report that you were loitering here all day."

A door opened a little. A Caucasian man with blond hair peered out, and he seemed too young for his job.

"We're federal agents," the man said. "Hey, you don't look like a cop."

"I'm supposed to be off duty. A fed, huh? Can I see some identification?"

"Sure." He produced a badge.

Victor examined it closely. "Looks legit. I apologize, sir. By the way, did you know one of your tires is flat?"

"It is?"

Victor nodded.

The man stepped out of the van and came around the side. "They look fine to me."

Victor punched him in the back of the neck, exactly where the first cervical vertebrae met the second. There was a pop as the bones dislocated, pinching and perhaps severing the spinal cord. The agent collapsed to the sidewalk as all his muscles went slack at once. Victor stepped on his throat to crush his windpipe. The man didn't even struggle as he died.

Nice and quiet
, Victor thought.

"Joe?" another voice called from inside the van. "What's going on out there?"

The second agent came out of the van with his gun drawn. Victor slapped the gun away and punched the agent in the solar plexus, forcing all the air from his lungs and silencing him. Then Victor performed a high spinning kick. There was a double thump as his foot smashed the agent's skull into the van. He was knocked out.
Ethel and Marina aren't the only ones with martial arts moves
, Victor thought. He crushed the second man's throat.

Quickly, Victor tossed both bodies into the van, closed the door, and looked around. There were no witnesses.
Perfect.

He felt cold and empty inside, but it was the same after every kill, so he wasn't surprised. Sometimes when a challenging job went very well, he would experience some satisfaction, but tonight's work didn't meet that standard. The federal agents never had a chance.

"Well done," Ethel said.

He looked back and found her standing directly behind him. With her loose black and gray clothing, dark skin, and darker eyes, she appeared to be the ghost of death. He controlled his reaction enough that at least she wouldn't see him jump.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said.

"We'll have more trouble with the next part. We're facing three paranoid, brainwashed, militant zealots who will eagerly fight to the death. But we need them alive for interrogation, and there can't be any noise."

"Don't forget the booby traps. There are always booby traps."

"Of course," she said. "Do you want to suggest a plan?"

He furrowed his brow in thought. "Edward could bring the truck here. We could use our night vision gear, smoke bombs, and knockout gas."