Apocalypse Cult (Gray Spear Society) (31 page)

"Be careful with those grenades," Marina said. "They make enough noise that people on other boats might hear. Only use them indoors."

Aaron smiled at the irony. Normally, exactly the opposite advice was given regarding grenades.

Finally, he picked out a couple of hunting knives. Death was sometimes a very intimate affair.

He went over to the window and looked out. The
Scimitar
was still gliding across the sparkling, blue-green water.

"I don't like this," he said. "There will be a lot more of them than us, and they'll have bigger guns."

"That's usually how it goes," she said without emotion.

She finished choosing her weaponry. Her base gun was a HK G36C. It was essentially an assault rifle, trimmed down to a size that might possibly be concealable. The compact weapon fired .45 caliber ammunition at a rate that could shred an enemy in seconds. Unfortunately, its very short barrel made it exceptionally loud and inaccurate, more like a fire hose than a precision rifle. Aaron wondered if her slender arms could handle the wicked recoil, but she had to know what she was doing.

For her second weapon, she went to the other extreme: a Walther P22. She had attached a suppressor to make this classic firearm almost silent, and a laser sight made it deadly accurate as well. She would need all that accuracy because the tiny .22 caliber bullets had almost no stopping power. It was certainly a finesse weapon.

She nodded, obviously satisfied with this odd combination.

She joined him by the window and looked out at the
Scimitar
.

"When we get on board," she said, "we'll be working in tight spaces. Don't let yourself get cornered. Stay mobile. Don't forget where the exits are."

"Thanks for the advice, but I already knew that. I was a city cop, remember?"

She glanced at him. "I didn't mean to be condescending. I'm just a little anxious."

"No harm done." He put his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned against him.

"I'm so glad you're with us," she whispered. "With me."

"I'm glad too." He kissed her gently. "Even if we're about to die."

"I never told Ethel, but I did something very strange a few weeks ago. Something I never do."

"What?" He looked at her freckled face.

She gnawed her lip.

"Talk to me."

"I prayed," she said.

"For what?"

"An end to the loneliness. For love. But it seemed impossible. I can never be a mother or a wife. No man could accept me as his woman. I'm as lovable as a machine gun. When I'm not killing, I live underground, hidden away."

He pulled her close. "Do you know why I joined the Society? For you. I wanted to be with
you
. That was really the only reason."

She abruptly kissed him on the lips. Their bodies melted together, and the kiss went on and on. Finally, they pulled apart.

"You realize that may be our last kiss," she whispered.

"Then let's do one more."

He kissed her again. The experience was so warm and affectionate, he forgot all about the danger.

Her phone rang. "Damn it." She answered it and had a brief conversation. Afterwards, she said, "Ethel is coming in a boat. We're supposed to meet her on the pier in ten minutes."

"That was fast."

"Too fast. We're not ready to go yet."

They set about the task of concealing their weapons. Aaron put his Beretta in a holster under his shirt. The grenade launcher was not so easy, and he settled for strapping it across his back under his jacket along with two belts of grenades. When the shooting started, he would have to take off his jacket to reach the launcher.

Marina had a long skirt, which meant she could strap her Walther P22 against her inner thigh. There was no good place to put the assault rifle though. She ended up stuffing it into her oversized bag along with plenty of ammunition.

That still left a pile of spare guns and ammo which Aaron hated to leave behind, but he couldn't afford to be weighed down by extraneous weapons. A few of the nicer items went back into his backpack, but the rest went into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. Somebody would get a big surprise when he opened that drawer.

"I really wish we had body armor," Aaron said.

Marina nodded. "The bad guys will have some. We'll take theirs. Once the killing starts, we'll have all the guns and armor we could want. Come on. Ethel gets grouchy when she has to wait."

They rushed out of the office.

Chapter Twenty-two

Aaron and Marina returned to the north side of Navy Pier. The muggy air caused him to add fresh sweat to his already sticky shirt.

Ethel was standing at the controls of a red speedboat with twin outboard motors. She still wore her long, gray shawl, much too warm for this weather, and he felt sorry for her. He wondered how many guns she was carrying underneath.

There was no place to dock the speedboat because every bollard was in use, so it just bobbed against a wall. Aaron and Marina had to jump down several feet to get into it. As soon as they were aboard, Ethel opened the throttle, and they roared off.

"That didn't take so long, ma'am," Aaron said.

"I went down to the dock on Monroe Street instead of all the way to Soldier Field," Ethel said. "There was a man drinking beer on his boat. He made a racial slur as I walked by, so I decided to take his boat. I hate racists."

"What happened to the man?"

She pointed to a tarp at the back of the boat. Aaron lifted the tarp to find a man in jeans and a white T-shirt underneath. He reeked of beer. Aaron checked the man's pulse to confirm he was still alive.

"We can't take this guy along for the ride," Aaron said.

"He'll drown if we dump him in the lake," Ethel said. "Is that what you want?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then he'll have to take his chances."

"Is that your idea of simple justice?"

"Why not?" Ethel shrugged.

She made wide S-turns as she drove across the lake, so that it wasn't obvious where they were headed. The
Scimitar of Allah
grew larger and even more impressive. Ten windows along the waterline suggested a good number of rooms below deck. The lines were straight and clean. It was a yacht suitable for a wealthy family with a full complement of servants.

She killed the engine and allowed the speedboat to drift silently.

Aaron remembered he had a telescopic rifle sight among the gear in his backpack. He fished out the sight and peered through it.

"Six guards," he said. "Two in front, two in back, and two above the bridge."

He handed the sight to Ethel, and she looked through it.

"If anybody has a suggestion," she said, "I'm ready to hear it."

Marina took her turn with the sight. "We could try sniping. If we could take out the guards fast enough..."

"No," Ethel said. "This boat is rolling too much. We'd need a more stable platform and quieter guns. However, if I can get aboard without being seen, I could take out the guards myself and do it quietly. Then you two could join me."

"You could kill all those guys without making any noise, ma'am?" Aaron said in a dubious tone.

"Easily."

The bloodlust in her dark eyes disturbed him.

He took another look through the telescopic sight. "There is a ladder on the side of the ship. Could you swim to it?"

"With all the steel I'm carrying, I'd sink straight to the bottom of the lake. But if you get me close enough, I can jump across. You'll have to create a distraction while I climb up."

Aaron looked across the crowded harbor. The sight of two small sailboats almost plowing into each other gave him an idea. He hunted around in the speedboat until he found a plastic cooler. He opened it to reveal a dozen cans of cheap beer.

"Bingo," he said.

* * *

Aaron leaned back against the controls of the speedboat. The engines were idling, but they still pushed the boat forward at a leisurely pace. It was on a collision course with the
Scimitar
.

He made a show of not noticing their heading and looked at Marina instead. With a beer in each hand, he made broad, sloppy gestures and spoke in a very loud voice. She listened to him passively, leaning against the hull, her head bobbing back and forth. Ethel was curled in a fetal position with her eyes closed.

"I told him," Aaron slurred. "You want to know what I told him? I told him... go to Hell!" He waved an arm and splashed beer onto Ethel's immobile form. "Yeah, that's right! The fucker... his face turned red! I mean... I mean..." He drank some beer. "You know what I mean?"

Marina blinked slowly at him. "Uh, no."

"He couldn't believe it. He was really..." He paused to take a deep breath. "Really pissed. Then I told him again. Just because. You ever do that, babe?"

"Uh, no."

Aaron glanced out of the corner of his eye at the
Scimitar
. Using his thigh instead of his hands, he made a subtle adjustment to the steering. He needed to hit his mark precisely.

"That's the kind of man I am." He threw out his chest and almost fell over. "A real man. You ever been with a real man before? I'm a real big man." He winked.

Marina abruptly leaned over the side and pretended to vomit. Her chest heaved realistically, and it was an impressive performance.

"Uh, you OK, babe?" he asked.

She groaned.

They were about fifty yards from the enemy now. He risked another glance and saw that several men had gathered on the side of the ship. They yelled at Aaron to steer away, but he ignored them. It seemed everybody on board the
Scimitar
was wearing green clothes, and their elaborate facial tattoos were prominent at this distance. There was no sign of weapons. A Coast Guard patrol boat wasn't too far away.

"Can't hold your beer?" Aaron said. "That's OK. A woman doesn't need to drink like a man... like me. I drank ten... eleven... twelve, and I'm not..." He belched. "Not feeling it. Maybe a little." He took a step and stumbled against a chair.

The cult members were yelling louder as the distance closed. Finally, Aaron turned and looked as if noticing the noise for the first time. He fumbled with the controls of the speedboat. Instead of steering away, he "accidently" fell against the throttle and pushed it all the way. The speedboat lurched forward violently. He killed the engine seconds later but a collision was unavoidable. The bow of the speedboat banged against the side of the larger ship, and everybody was thrown forward. The steering wheel caught him hard in the ribs.

He had chosen the location and angle of approach with great care. At the exact moment of impact, Ethel leapt, flew through the air, and grabbed a ladder on the side of the
Scimitar
. It was a maneuver that would've impressed a circus acrobat, but she carried it off easily despite her age. She held onto the bottom rung of the ladder with just her head and hands out of the water. From the deck of the ship, she would be impossible to see.

Aaron let his speedboat coast for another thirty or forty feet to draw attention away from Ethel. Finally, it came to a stop.

"Hey!" one of the cult members screamed. "Asshole! Are you drunk?"

"Maybe I am!" Aaron yelled back. "So what?"

"Get the hell out of here!"

"My boat is damaged."

"Go," the cult member bellowed, "or we'll make you go!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron saw Ethel climbing the ladder. She had thrown off her shawl. Underneath she wore black tights from neck to toe with a black and gray vest protecting her torso. Guns and knives decorated her body like Christmas tree ornaments. Twin machetes were strapped across her back. She moved astonishingly fast, yet made no noise.

Aaron remembered that his job was to create a distraction. "No way!" he yelled. "Call the police! I want to file a report."

"So they can arrest you for drunk driving?" the cult member replied. "This is your last warning."

Aaron threw a beer can at the ship.

As soon as Ethel reached the deck, she drew her machetes and sprinted forward. The weapons were highly polished and caught the sunlight like mirrors. There were six men in front of her, and she seemed intent on attacking all of them at once.

She spun her long blades as she advanced. Her targets didn't realize they were in danger until she was already killing them. Sharp steel passed through flesh without apparent resistance. She sliced throats, abdomens, hamstrings, and other soft targets with surgical precision, and her machetes never stopped moving. The performance reminded Aaron of a well rehearsed ritual dance. Compared to her, her victims seemed as inert as practice dummies.

Seconds later, the fight was over. The dead bodies dropped to the deck, hidden from view by the railing. Arterial sprays had painted insane patterns on windows and walls. Ethel had no apparent injuries, although with so much blood everywhere, Aaron couldn't be sure.

He had never seen anything like it. Perhaps for the first time, he was truly afraid of her. She was an inhuman killing machine, a living expression of divine wrath. Her supernatural speed was only part of her power. She could've slaughtered six hundred men as easily as six.

Marina tapped Aaron's head to get his attention. "Wake up!"

He started the engines and drove the speedboat over to the ladder. Even before he came to a complete stop, Marina started climbing onto the
Scimitar
. He followed her as quickly as he could.

He heard rapid footsteps approaching. She already had her Walther P22 drawn. A man came around the corner, and she put two bullets between his eyes with a textbook double-tap. The weapon made only soft hissing and clicking noises.

Aaron joined her on deck and drew his own gun.

Ethel came over to them, stepping over bodies like they were just piles of dirty laundry. She still held her fearsome machetes. They were beautifully made with lacquered wooden handles that fit her hands exactly. He instinctively kept his distance from the sharp edges.

"Let's go in," she said.

The ship had three decks: the main deck, the bridge above, and the cabins below. Most of the main deck was enclosed, creating a large interior space. They found a doorway leading inside, but nobody rushed to open it. All of them were experienced enough to fear an ambush.