M McDonald - March Into Hell

Lily pointed to another shadowy figure. "Is that Medea?"

Mark shrugged, and instantly regretted it as the muscles, unused for so long, protested the sudden movement. "It's a woman with her build, but the hair color is wrong. That's all I can tell." He waved a hand at the stack of photos."Truthfully, I barely looked at those pictures. The other one I mentioned sort of took priority in my mind."

Jessie moved that photo to the top of the pile. "I can see how it might." Her eyes met his, and he was sure the fear in hers mirrored his own.

Lily squeezed his arm and said, "Mark, I know it looks bad, but you can change this like you do your other photos-don't forget that."

He tore his gaze from Jessie and took a deep breath before focusing on Lily. "Yeah, I'm trying to keep that in mind. Guess I should let Jim know about this new development." He tried to smile at his bad pun, but if it looked as sickly as it felt, it wouldn't fool either of the women.

Jim exited the car, and slammed the door of the old beater. He tugged on the ragged Army surplus jacket, and ran a hand over his unshaven face. As soon as he'd begun contemplating the ruse, he'd forgone shaving, and in just a few days, he had a nice bristly shadow. The amount of gray whiskers mixed with the dark ones had been an unwelcome surprise, but he had to concede it lent him a scraggly look that he couldn't have acquired any other way. To finish the transformation to Reverend Jim, he'd obtained a hair piece of long, stringy gray hair. Undercover operations had plenty of people who'd been able to help him change his appearance completely.

With a slow look around the seedy neighborhood, Jim sauntered up to the front door of the house believed to be the headquarters of the Guild of the Rose.

The house had been under surveillance since it had been discovered, and word had come that Kern might be in the residence. Nobody had seen him enter, but someone matching his height and build had been seen silhouetted against a shade.

Jim knocked.

After about thirty seconds a woman's voice came through the intercom. “Who is it?"

Jim smiled. "Hi, ma'am. My name's Reverend Jim, and I'm here to talk to y'all about a meetin' I'm planning."

"You must have the wrong building. Nobody here is interested in a 'meetin'."

Rubbing a hand against his whiskers, Jim shook his head. "Well, see, that's not how we heard it. We heard that the Rose had an big interest in Mark Taylor. I just thought y'all might want to take a gander at him in a few nights. He's the guest of honor at a revival I'm planning. We was wonderin' if y'all might want to help out"

Muffled voices came over the intercom, and a minute later, a young woman opened the door. "Come in. We'd like to hear more."

"Yes, ma'am. I thought you would." He grinned and followed her down a flight of steps into a large dimly lit room that probably was a laundry room at one time. Chairs lined up six rows deep and about ten chairs per row. This confirmed the estimate that the Guild had expanded. A podium anchored one end of the room, but the woman led Jim to the far end.

"Have a seat, please. Someone will be with you in a moment.'

Jim obliged and relaxed against the back of the metal folding chair, his hands intertwined behind his head, and his ankles crossed. He expected the wait to be relatively long. They would be looking up his name on the Internet. That's what Jim would have done, and Kern seemed like a bright man too.

They'd get plenty of hits, at least. Reverend Jim was a flashy preacher. Of course, they wouldn't be able to tell that all the search engine hits had been planted by some of the FBIs best computer geeks. A few even had photos of Jim preaching to groups. He smirked. Gotta love Photoshop. A couple of pictures of Jim against a green screen with different attire, and his team had created an evangelical empire.

After almost thirty minutes, a door behind the podium opened and a tall man entered. Jim recognized him from his photos, although he'd changed his hair to a darker color and had a touch of gray at the temple, presumably to lend distinction. Instinct pressed him to stand and be on guard, but he fought it, holding onto his relaxed pose for several long seconds after Kern had stopped a short distance beyond Jim's crossed feet. Damned if he was going to show any fear or concede any power to this man.

Kern's presence filled the room, making the six men who flanked him insignificant. His cold, dark eyes fixed on Jim. "You have succeeded in piquing our curiosity. A revival, you say? What do you plan to do at this meeting?"

Jim planted his feet on the floor and straightened in the chair. "Are you the one who runs this Guild?"

Kern smiled and clasped his hands loosely in front of him. "Who I am isn't important. I have been given the authority in this matter. "

Jim pretended to think the matter over as he stood and began pacing. "I don't know. I was kind of hoping to talk to the man in charge-the one who tested Taylor the first time. That was a stroke of pure genius."

The only reaction from Kern was a lift of his eyebrow.

"See, here's the thing. I don't know how y'all did it. How you were able to draw me to the ceremony that night?

Real confusion flashed across Kern's face before he was able to mask it, but Jim pushed his advantage. "It was incredible! There I was, just mindin' my own business, sleeping, and next thing I know, I'm sucked into the warehouse like a spirit or something."

"Excuse me?"

Jim nodded, hoping his enthusiastic reaction wouldn't displace the hairpiece. "I was right there, man! All those prayers and the Hail Mary right at the end-it was inspiring, let me tell you."

Shock and disbelief warred on Kern's features, replaced an instant later with anger. He grabbed Jim by the front of his shirt. "Who have you been speaking to? If one of the members of the Guild has leaked anything, they'll have to be dealt with."

It was all Jim could to do not to shrug off Kern's hands and lay him out, but he stayed in his role. "I'm tellin' ya, I saw it with my own two eyes. I think Mark Taylor pulled me there with his prayers."

Eyes narrowed, Kern released him. "Prove it."

"Satanus, non sum dignus… sed tantum dic verbo." Jim plucked Kern's hands from his shirt. "Yer followers, they couldn't hear you whisper it over the fire, but I could. I was right there and I saw your doubt." Jim used his fingertips to push Kern away as he said in a low, mocking voice, " Satan, I am not worthy, but only say the word ."

Kern stepped back, his arms dropping to his sides in surprise.

Jim smirked. "Yep. I'm the only one who heard you voice your fears, and it just so happens I know just enough Latin to understand the phrase." He'd kept Kern's utterance a secret, not even telling Taylor, holding it back as an ace in the hole if he ever needed it.

He rubbed his hands together and paced in front of Kern. "So, at the little shindig I'm holding, I am planning on recounting the whole thing, but of course," he paused his pacing, and held a hand on his chest, "I can omit that last bit…if you co-operate."

With a stiff nod, Kern said, "I'll pass along my recommendation to our leader, but I can't promise anything."

"Here's the deal. I want lots of folks at the meeting so I need your help to spread the word. I plan to collect boatloads of money from the people who turn up. I've already printed up hundreds of flyers, t-shirts and even-get this-we have small crosses that we can sell for a fortune after Taylor blesses them." Jim grinned.

"Where does the Guild of the Rose come into this picture?"

"I want your people at the revival. They are experienced at this sort of thing. They are disciplined. My people, well, they get to shouting and feeling the spirit. They aren't much good for what I have in mind."