Tortured Spirits (40 page)

As Jake watched Andre exit the room, Jorge joined him.

“Le Père is a leader of the people,” Jorge said. “He doesn't like to take orders.”

“Neither do I.”

Maria sat sandwiched between her guardian soldiers in the backseat of a Hummer that roared away from the palace. She felt as if she had just been sentenced to crucifixion by Pontius Pilate, only she didn't know the nature of her sentence. A flare went off in the sky above the rain forest.

“I guess Jake and Andre are still loose,” she said.

Russel stared at her. “Not for long. A star as bright as Andre's can't remain hidden for long, and Helman will come looking for you. Why do you think we made such a
public show of bringing you here?”

Shit,
Maria thought.
They're using me as bait.
“Why do you care about Jake anyway? I did all the heavy lifting. All he did was lose his hand and get high.”

“I don't disagree with you,” Russel said. “Helman had me worried, but you turned out to be far more trouble than him.”

All in a good day's work,
Maria thought.

The Church of the Black Snake appeared at the end of the road. Unlike the palace, it didn't glow in the night; rather, it seemed to swallow the light around it and spit it out as darkness. They passed through a checkpoint with only two armed soldiers, and the Hummer stopped near a flight of stone steps.

The party climbed out of the vehicle, and Maria, stretching her spine, watched Mambo Catoute hobble up the steps.

Tough old broad,
she thought.
All gristle.

One of the soldiers prodded Maria with the barrel of his machine gun, and she followed Catoute up the steps and through wooden doors adorned with hand-carved snakes.

Inside, cool air raised gooseflesh on her arms. The soldiers' footsteps echoed around them, and Maria noticed Russel's visible unease in the church. They followed a balcony overlooking an enormous cathedral and descended wooden stairs to the lower level. A gigantic chandelier with burning candles hung from the ceiling.

Catoute led them to an archway recessed between rows of benches and opened a door, and they entered a stairway, which curved down to another level. At the bottom, they
passed an office door, then a wider door, which Catoute opened. They filed into a round chamber equal to the cathedral in floor space. Along the curved stone wall, shelves rose from the floor, circling the entire chamber. Unlit candles covered the shelves.

Thousands of candles,
Maria thought.

Catoute made her way past a podium and gestured at chains with manacles coiled on the floor. “Chain her up there.”

The soldiers guided Maria into a circle, perhaps twelve feet in diameter, painted on the floor.

Maria squinted at the rust-colored circle.
That looks like blood.
“I love what you've done to the place,” she said to Catoute, who ignored her.

The soldiers secured the manacles to her wrists, then removed the handcuffs.

Russel examined the candles with a grim expression, then rejoined Maxime and the soldiers. “Let's go,” he said to Maxime. “I'd like to get some sleep before morning.”

Maxime nodded and grunted.

“You two stay here,” Russel said to the soldiers, who exchanged worried glances.

“Not inside this church, they don't,” Catoute said.

“We're not leaving a prisoner of the state in here unattended.”

“Then make them wait upstairs. They can't be in here while I make preparations for Kalfu.”

Kalfu!
Maria's heart tightened with fear.

“In that case,” Russel said, “I'm assigning more men to watch the outside of this place. I respect your religion, but
I'm not losing my head over it.”

After the four men departed the chamber, Maria turned to Catoute. “Now that they're gone, let's talk. Just us girls.”

Catoute snickered. “What would you like to know?”

Maria looked at the circle around her. “Are you planning to sacrifice me to Kalfu?”

“Kalfu doesn't want you. Malvado does. Kalfu wants Jake Helman.”

Maria swallowed. “What does he—it—want with Jake?”

“I have no idea, but I'm sure it will be extremely unpleasant and extremely painful.” Catoute held her cane out before her. “You never should have come here.”

Maria glanced around the chamber at the candles. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Catoute took a pot out of a cabinet, set it down outside the circle, and kicked it forward. A roll of moldy toilet tissue occupied the pot.

Gee, thanks,
Maria thought.

Jake, Andre, and Stephane stood by the road in the jungle. Cicadas chirped around them, and flares flashed like lightning above them.

“I'm not letting you out of my sight,” Jake said to Andre.

“That's fine by me.”

Headlights appeared in the distance.

“Here they come,” Stephane said, stepping into the middle of the road. “You two hide.”

Jake and Andre sought cover in the jungle.

The canvas-covered truck stopped, and Stephane approached the window. Jake thought he saw the men inside wearing berets.

“Libération de I'île Pavot,” the driver said.

“Libération de I'île Pavot,” Stephane said.

The driver jerked his head toward the back of the truck.

Stephane ran along the truck to its rear and shone his flashlight inside it. Then he waved to Jake and Andre. “Come on!”

Jake and Andre joined Stephane, and the three of them climbed into the truck. Among a dozen or so crates stacked floor to ceiling sat six men, including Louider, all of them wearing camouflage uniforms. The crime lord smoked a cigar.

“Louider,” Andre said as he sat on a crate.

“You didn't think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?” Louider removed a stack of cigars from his pocket and offered them to the newcomers. “Cubans?”

All three men accepted, and as the truck pulled away, Louider helped light the cigars. Jake had never enjoyed smoking cigars, but when would he ever have the chance to smoke a Cuban again? The tips of the cigars glowed in the darkness despite the flashlight beams illuminating the truck's gloomy interior.

“Nine trucks just like this one are on their way to the agreed upon locations,” Louider said. He gestured at Jake with the cigar. “You have an interesting method of choosing qualified marksmen. Andre, did they treat you well in prison?”

“It was prison. I have nothing to compare it to. The
guards were decent to me, or at least they were never cruel.”

“I hope not. I paid them to look after you.”

“I suspected as much. Thank you for the special meals on holidays.”

“I wish I could have done more. Bribery is difficult when you're dealing with snake cultists.”

“Ain't it the truth.”

During the hour that followed, Jake thought of nothing but Maria. He had to believe she was alive, that they were holding her as bait to lure them, or why would they have sent her to the palace? The question was: Had Russel taken a machete to her as he had Jake?

I'll kill him if he did,
Jake thought.

In the cab of the truck, one of the men banged on the wall.

“We're almost there.” Louider raised his high-tech machine gun with its silencer. “Brace yourselves.”

The truck stopped and they heard voices. Three flashlight beams materialized before them. Standing, Louider blasted his machine gun at the lights. The men holding the flashlights cried out before falling to the ground. Only Jake saw the flickering souls rise and fade. He heard more silenced shots coming from the front of the truck.

“Wait here,” Louider said. He hopped over the truck's gate and disappeared.

Jake and Andre exchanged worried looks. A blast of suppressed machine gun fire rang out, then Louider climbed into the truck.

“Tell them to go,” Louider said to one of his men, who banged on the back wall. The truck surged forward.
“Caught two of the fuckers hiding in the bathroom.”

All human so far,
Jake thought. As the truck followed the bumpy road, the checkpoint station receded from view, the road around it littered with corpses.

At least I didn't have to kill them.

A few minutes later, the truck stopped again. This time Louider jumped out before anyone appeared at the truck's rear. The suppressed gunfire of three weapons created a staccato rhythm. It stopped, then resumed.

“Oh, shit!” one of the men out front said.

Louider got into the truck. “I hate zonbies.”

“I told you to shoot them in the head,” Jake said.

The gangster shrugged. “We did. After we shot them in the chest.”

“How many?”

“Eight. The same as the first checkpoint.”

The truck growled its way forward.

Jake checked his watch. “It's 3:35. We've got a lot to do before 5:00 if dawn is at 6:00.”

“Everything but this location and the palace are out of our hands,” Andre said. “Have faith in the rest of our people.”

The truck stopped, and Luider lowered the gate and hopped out. “Everybody out!”

Jake and Stephane obeyed, then helped Andre to the ground. The compound looked identical to the one Jake had spent the night in: six army barracks surrounded by work lights, plus what appeared to be a paddock for horses.

A pair of dead soldiers appeared, and Stephane raised his machine gun to his shoulder.

“The heads,” Jake said. “Free their souls.”

Stephane's laser scope sited one zonbie's forehead. He triggered the weapon, firing two suppressed semiautomatic rounds, and the zonbie's head danced on its shoulders. The corpse collapsed, and a shimmering soul rose into the sky and faded.

Jake looked around for some reaction, but no one else saw the pitiful creature's energy escape its body.

Stephane fired again, taking out the second zonbie soldier with a single shot.

Jake watched another soul flicker into the night air. He found the sight disturbing and comforting at the same time.

Stephane admired his new toy. “I
like
this gun.”

“Oh, my Lord,” Andre said behind them.

Jake and Stephane joined him at the rear of the truck, where the rest of Louider's men unloaded crates. On the horizon, hundreds of shapes worked in the poppy fields.

“My people,” Andre said.

“Come on.” Jake tapped Andre's arm. “You're sticking with me, remember?”

The three men rushed to the first building, Stephane and Andre carrying machine guns and Jake carrying a Glock. Inside the building, Jake flipped a light switch. Andre gasped at the stench of human waste and rot.

Jake blinked at the empty interior. “Poor bastards already turned.”

They ran past the next three buildings. When they reached the fifth, Stephane nodded in the direction of the poppy fields. Four men on horseback galloped toward the truck.

“Overseers,” Jake said.

“What kind of human beings treat others this way?” Andre said.

“Louider will handle them. We've got dirty business of our own.”

They stormed inside the structure. A woman wearing African robes stood with her back to them, chanting over a naked male body on a table. Eleven more emaciated bodies occupied tables waiting for her. The Mambo jerked her head in their direction, alarm in her eyes. A soldier sitting in a chair nearby jumped to his feet and reached for his machine gun.

Stephane triggered a blast from his weapon. The rounds tearing the wall and soldier apart made more noise than the gunfire.

“Cover the door,” Jake said to Stephane, then he led Andre past numerous tables supporting zonbies stripped of their clothing. “Take a good look.”

Heads turned toward them.

“They've turned, but they haven't been embalmed. Unattended, these guys will rot away into nothing. That's where this fine woman comes into play.” Jake pointed at the Y incision dividing the torso of the zonbie before the Mambo into three sections. “She swaps out the blood and the organs for sawdust and preservatives and makes it possible for each of those poor sons of bitches to be programmed like a machine.”