They (31 page)

“Thanks.”

Frank read through the rest of the microfilm and followed up his research in the periodical room. And despite a careful analysis of the local newspapers, he didn’t find anything else, save the local reporting of Maggie Walter’s murder.

IT WAS ONLY eight-thirty in the evening, and even though it was still sunset it felt like night had fallen fast.

Hank Powell, Mike Peterson, Vince Walters, and Frank Black were gathered in Reverend Powell’s basement. Hank had set up a card table and some chairs in the den, and the four men sat around the table eating take-out pizza that Frank and Mike had brought back from Caruso’s. Vince had called Frank as he was walking back to the motel from the library and told him the latest plan: they were joining forces with Reverend Powell and would be spending the rest of their time at his home. Frank expressed concern at first, but Vince assured him that Mike had made the call. Vince was still reeling from the emotional turmoil of the past few hours and had come to rely more on Mike’s judgment. “We talked about it upstairs out of Hank’s earshot,” he’d told Frank over the phone. “Mike did some checking on him before you even contacted me. He came out clean. He has no prior contact with any cult member except for my mother, and he’s expressing all the classic symptoms of shock at what he’s hearing. Mike’s checked the house out, and once Hank found out the extreme nature of this group, he even pitched in to help. The guy’s an ex-cop and knows quite a lot about surveillance. He says he would have known if somebody had been following him, so he’s just as paranoid as you two are.”

“I guess that’s good to know,” Frank said.

Mike had driven over to the motel to pick Frank up and gather their things. As a precaution, he hadn’t checked them out of the room. They’d picked up two large pizzas at Caruso’s after Hank phoned the order in, and now they were gathered around the card table, a half-eaten pizza and empty beer bottles on the table. Frank had gone through two cans of Coke already. They’d brought Hank Powell up to speed on everything that happened since Maggie’s murder—including the murder attempt on Vince and Tracy—and Frank’s own background. Hank had nodded solemnly, casting a sympathetic glance at Frank. “You’ve been through a lot, my friend. Thank God you lived through it.”

“There’s a well-known quote by the German philosopher Frederick Nietzsche,” Frank said. He was sprawled comfortably in one of the fold-up lawn chairs Reverend Powell had set up around the table. “‘That which does not kill me makes me stronger’ That’s how I look at what I went through.”

Hank Powell looked at his guests and sighed. Vince had watched the man pound down no less than a six-pack of beer and numerous shots of Jack Daniels and the guy wasn’t even the least bit wobbly. Perhaps it was true about ex-cops and preachers—they could hold their liquor. “Well, I’m with you on this,” he said. “As Maggie and Lillian’s friend and minister, and as a soldier for the Lord, I feel compelled to work with you to fight Satan. I know that’s who we’re up against and I thank God for your courage.” He nodded at each of them, his nod lingering longer on Frank. “Especially you, Frank, after finding out what you’ve gone through.” He nodded at Vince. “And you, Vince. As an unbeliever, I know this is hard for you to accept. But I also know you loved your mother, even though the two of you had problems. Despite what you may feel, I refuse to accept that this group feels that you are the Anti-Christ. They want you for something else. Satan hates to lose, and it’s obvious that he feels he lost two great souls when your mother took you and hightailed it out of that den of iniquity. He’s trying to get you back. And he will fight hard for you.”

“So you don’t think I’m the Anti-Christ?” Vince asked. He asked this half-jokingly. He really felt no different physically since coming to these wild conclusions. He imagined that if he were some sort of supernatural being he would have been aware of it long before now.

“No, Vince,” Hank Powell said. “You’re not the Anti-Christ. Confused and scared maybe, but not the devil’s imp.”

Frank chuckled. “You weren’t bad luck to people whom you’ve known the last twenty-five years, were you?”

“No.”

“And you haven’t noticed any unusual marks, right? No six-six-six tattoos or markings on your scalp?”

“No, but then I’ve never looked, either. I could shave my head and we can solve this all right now.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Mike said, bringing the seriousness back to the tone of conversation. “Vince, you’re not the Anti-Christ, so stop thinking such nonsense.”

“Why else would they be after me?”

“It’s like I suggested,” Reverend Powell said, rubbing his jaw. “Satan hates to lose. He wants you back.”

“If that’s the case, why do you claim it’s outlandish that they might think I’m the Anti-Christ?”

“
Vince
!” Mike’s tone sharpened.

Vince turned to Mike. “Hank believes the devil is pissed off about losing me and Mom. He’s placing this belief in a supernatural entity. If you believe Hank, why can’t you believe
they
see me as the Anti-Christ?”

Mike fidgeted. He cast a glance at Frank, who remained stoical. Finally, Frank said, “I don’t believe you’re the Anti-Christ, and to tell you the truth, I don’t believe in the devil either.”

“What do you believe in, son?” Reverend Powell asked.

“I believe we’re dealing with a group of fanatics,” Frank said. “I believe we’re dealing with a group of people that’s just as fanatical about their beliefs as the most rabid, fundamentalist Bible-thumper.” Hank Powell’s expression darkened at that description, but Frank ignored him. “To tell you the truth, I think organized religion is a crock of shit. I think Pat Robertson is just as dangerous as Louis Farrakhan and that nut that lives in that cave in Afghanistan, Osama bin Laden. I think these guys are operating on the same delusions as all your television evangelists, only they—”

“The Lord God is
not
an illusion,” Reverend Powell said, sternly.

“—believe in the devil. Frankly, I think the whole concept of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam is a fraud. I think they’re all based on a bunch of old myths and the early churches and mosques and synagogues forced this crock of shit down people’s throats as a power trip. They
made
people believe this shit—”

“That’s
enough
!” Hank Powell thundered. His face was beet-red.

“—and they had the power to either make people pay lip service or they’d kill them. Haven’t you ever heard of the Crusades or the fucking Inquisition?”

“I will not have you curse in my house!” Reverend Powell said through gritted teeth.

“Frank,” Mike said, sternly. “
That’s
enough.”

“It’s true!” Frank turned to him. “You told me the same thing. Or have you forgotten about that?”

If this embarrassed Mike, he didn’t show it. “Our personal spiritual beliefs are not the issue. The main focus of our discussion is the various crimes perpetrated by this organization, and their threat on Vince’s life.”

“And that’s all based on
their
spiritual beliefs,” Frank said. “Their belief that they are somehow aiding in God’s plan by helping to bring about the end times as described in the Bible. What they’re doing is no different than some Christian wacko who blows up a Planned Parenthood clinic because he says God told him to kill the abortion-providers.”

They were silent for a moment. Reverend Powell was glowering with anger. “You may not believe now,” he said, his gaze fiery, “but as we go deep into battle you
will
believe. I pray to God that you believe before it’s too late.”

“The bottom line is this,” Mike said, leaning forward, addressing them all in a clip, authoritarian style that must have worked wonders in the classroom. “Whatever our personal beliefs may be, we need to agree on some basic things that are very much real. One, this group exists and they’re extremely dangerous. Two, they’re responsible for the murder of Maggie Walters. Three, she was involved with them to some degree in the sixties and early seventies and she may have had some knowledge or participated in criminal activities. Four, she wised up and fled with Vince and went completely underground and was successful in changing her and Vince’s identity. And five—”

“They killed her and want Vince for the same reason,” Frank said. “Whatever Vince and Maggie were exposed to, whatever they might have witnessed, The Children of the Night want to silence them.”

“And you,” Vince said, nodding to Frank. “You told me yourself that you were having similar dreams. You don’t think they’re after you, too?”

“My guess is they think I’m too much trouble,” Frank said. He took a sip of Coke. “Besides, I think those dreams are finally just coming to the surface of my subconscious because they have no place else to go. As to them wanting to silence me, I really doubt it. I was a rebellious son-of-a-bitch to my mom, and I haven’t caused them any trouble since she booted me out when I was twelve. I haven’t been in touch with her since, and back then I was a fuck-up and a drug addict. She probably still thinks that. But I haven’t completely ruled out them coming after me. That’s why I’ve taken the precautions I have.”

“Well, it makes more sense for them to try to kill me if they think Mom and I witnessed something or had some knowledge of their activities,” Vince said.

“I still don’t believe The Children of the Night were the ones responsible for your assassination attempt,” Mike said. “What happened at the airport was too brazen, too out in the open.”

Frank nodded. “The Children of the Night are secretive. They’d rather make it look like an accident.”

“Or like Maggie’s murder?” Reverend Powell asked.

“Yes,” Frank said. “In fact, that’s one of their strengths. Making select murders appear to be the work of some deranged lunatic, sprinkle some occult-like symbols in the mix and that just stirs things up. These guys feed on this kind of chaos.”

“They feed on it,” Mike continued, “because it diverts attention away from them. The authorities go after their own pre-conceived notion of what a Satanist is supposed to be and that’s why you always hear about them arresting heavy metal teenagers. And while so-called ‘occult-experts’ are training law enforcement and church officials to be aware of Satanists by the kind of music kids are listening to, or the way they dress or wear their hair, or the kind of jewelry or tattoos they may have, the real culprits are right in front of them.” Mike cast his gaze across the table, like a professor sizing his class up. “They’re wearing the cloak of respectability. They’re the lawyers, the police officers that are drumming up these so-called ‘facts.’ They’re the businessmen that are funding their operations. They’re the ministers who are working for the light during the day, but when night falls they take off their clerical collars and bow before the Prince of Darkness behind closed doors.”

Reverend Powell appeared to think about this. “What you’re saying is…”

“Crazy?” Mike grinned slightly.

“Not in the least bit,” Reverend Powell said. “In fact, it’s something that I can believe very easily.”

Mike nodded. “Let me give you a little crash course in the Black Arts, or at least as they pertain to The Children of the Night.” He reiterated what he’d told Vince a few nights ago about The Children of the Night fostering the urban legends about Satanists infiltrating popular music and taking over the day care centers. “And the Christian community has bought right into it.”

Reverend Powell nodded, still looking angry, but appearing to calm down from his sudden outburst at Frank. “I can see what you mean. I’ve always held the notion that the devil would do everything he could do to spread lies and false witness among the body of Christ. I’ve never subscribed to many of the urban legends surrounding Satan’s influence on the world. But when you put things in this perspective, I see that his influence is working in the world in the same powerful way. It’s just…more subtle.”

“It’s a form of psychological warfare,” Frank said.

“I thought you held to the notion that all this was a bunch of gobbledy-gook?” Hank said, turning to Frank with a frown.

“I do,” Frank said with a smile. “That
these
people believe their theology is true.”

“Well,” Hank said, “no matter what you believe, perhaps it’s a good thing we’re joining forces. I think we need somebody to fight them on a spiritual level. You, obviously, feel otherwise, although I do not for a moment disagree with that method. I think it’s good to work on both levels.”

“We think so, too,” Mike said, quickly. “That’s why we decided to approach you.”

Hank Powell nodded. “So I guess we need to talk strategy now.”

They talked strategy for nearly an hour. Vince sat back and listened as Mike and Frank talked to Hank about the various ways to approach this. Mike and Frank were very well versed in the background of the cult, and listening to them talk was like listening in on a well-planned strategy for battle. They discussed turning all of the evidence they’d collected, including the box containing the photos and news clippings, over to William Grecko. Reverend Powell asked if they were confident a proper Federal investigation would be started. Mike revealed that William had very strong FBI contacts who were unconnected to the group; they could pull the right strings that would result in arrests. Frank sheepishly admitted that similar federal investigations had always blown up. “Basically you need somebody to infiltrate them to get the proper evidence,” he said. “Everything we’ve collected is circumstantial. But it’s a lot more than what other people have collected. In fact, it’s pretty goddamned solid.”

“What kind of a risk do you suppose there is for one of you infiltrating the group?” Reverend Powell asked, his features serious and penetrating.

“Pretty great,” Mike said.

“Not to mention impossible,” Frank said.

“You couldn’t contact your mother?” Reverend Powell asked, turning to Frank. “Sort of in the guise of a reunion type thing?”

Frank shook his head. “No way.”

“Why not?” Vince asked.

Frank turned to him. “You think I can crack her? Forget it. If what Mike’s found out is true, she and Tom are so high up in the organization they’d be impenetrable.”