Don Winslow - Way Down on the High Lonely

“You bet we could,” Cal answered. He looked over her shoulder and grinned at Randy. “I’ll bet we could take you right to him.”

“Come on,” Randy said, “we’d better be gettin’ back to the ranch.

He hoped he’d have a little time with Doreen. They’d have to sneak her into the bunkhouse so Hansen didn’t see, and then they’d have to go to the ceremony. But he hoped that left a little time before they killed her.

Neal and Graham walked toward the bunkhouse. “Okay, okay,” Neal hissed, “no problem. After they teach me the secret handshake we get the boy, slip away in the darkness, get to Austin, and phone Ed. He calls the FBI, they roar in, get the gang, the money, and the arms. It’s a cinch.”

Graham grabbed his crotch. “Now I know why cowboys walk the way they do. Here’s the deal: you go to the frat party and I’ll do some snooping around. If I find Cody and can get away with him, I will. Otherwise I’ll get out of here and get someplace I can call in an army. You stay in place.”

They stopped walking and looked at each other in the gathering darkness.

“And if we don’t find Cody?” asked Neal.

Graham started to grind his artificial hand into his real one. “Hansen has a kid, doesn’t he?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“We snatch him and trade. Beautiful business we’re in, isn’t it?”

“Lovely.”

Then Neal asked, “Think we stand a chance?”

“Sure I do.”

“Neither do I.”

They started walking again.

“Maybe,” Graham said, “it’ll be like one of those old movies. Maybe the cavalry will ride in.”

They looked at each other again and laughed.

Hansen finished recounting the money again and put it into his office safe. Carter sat at the desk watching him, his bodyguards watching the door and window.

“Do you trust them?” Carter asked.

“I trust Neal. I don’t even know the other one,” answered Hansen.

“Gentry is white trash,” Carter said. “A low-life drifter and a cripple to boot. His usefulness is at an end. Your Neal Carey I’m not sure about.”

“You can count on Neal,” Hansen said. He was ready to dig his heels in on this one.

“I don’t know, Robert, I don’t know. That’s what you said about McCall. Maybe you’re wrong again.”

Hansen flushed, thinking about everything that had happened because he’d been wrong about McCall. “What do you suggest?” he asked Carter.

Carter looked up at the ceiling and stroked his chin. “A test,” he said. “Now that I think about it, maybe Gentry can do one more thing for us.”

Shoshoko crawled to the mouth of the cave and sniffed the north wind. There was time, but not too much time. He wrapped his blanket around him and went to gather more wood for the fire.

A storm was coming, and it was almost time for him to die.

Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days, be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life,’” Carter intoned.

He stood by the third door in the bunker. The gang lined up on either side, forming a corridor for Carter and Neal to walk down. They were wearing the official uniform of the Sons of Seth-khaki shirts and trousers, brown leather belts and shoulder harnesses, Nazi campaign caps. Nazi-style daggers hung from their belts. On their left sleeves they wore a red armband with the swastika, on the other sleeve a black armband with the SOS symbol, a Christian cross with a flaming sword through it.

Carter opened the door and walked through. Strekker, playing the sergeant-at-arms role, gestured for Neal to follow.

Neal looked straight forward and started to march between the line of men. As he passed, each one touched him on the shoulder and intoned, “Brother.”

Brother, indeed, thought Neal. He felt stupid in his new khaki uniform. He was glad Graham hadn’t been invited to the service, because he never would hear the end of it.

He entered the secret chamber.

It was a chapel. A cross with a sword superimposed hung on the wall above a small altar. The altar was draped in white silk, embroidered on the front was the cross-and-sword motif with the legend “Sons of Seth.” Seven gold candlesticks were set on top, their flames casting the room in a warm, golden glow. A gold plate and a Luger automatic pistol with SS insignia were set in the center.

“Kneel before the altar of Yahweh, brothers,” Carter said. He stood behind the altar. Strekker and Carlisle stood off to the side behind him. The rest sat on the benches arranged like church pews.

“I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending,’ saith the Lord, ‘which is, and which is to come, the almighty.’” Carter said.

Where’s the boy? thought Neal. Bring out the boy.

“Who sponsors this man to become a brother?” Carter asked.

Hansen stepped forward. “I do.”

“Are you bonded in blood?” Carter asked Hansen.

Here we go, Neal thought.

“I am bonded with my brothers in blood,” Hansen said.

Yippee for you. Now bring out the kid.

Carter looked at Neal and said, “Speak your name before Yahweh.”

“Neal Carey.”

Carter looked a little embarrassed, leaned over, and whispered, “Do you have a middle name, Neal?”

“Not that I know about.”

“Okay,” Carter answered. He looked up at the ceiling and intoned, “Oh, Yahweh, look down upon this son of Seth, this child of the white race, this warrior in the struggle for your chosen people, and bless him. Make him brave for battle and give him the strength to do those things which he must do. Amen.”

“Amen,” responded the congregation.

“Neal Carey, do you solemnly swear to devote your life to Yahweh, to his son Jesus Christ, to his apostle and martyr Adolf Hitler, and to the chosen people? If so, say ‘I do.”

“I do.”

“Do you solemnly swear your loyalty to these assembled brothers, your Aryan kinsmen and fellow warriors?”

“I do.” I do already. Where is Cody?

“Repeat after me: I, Neal Carey, do swear to fight to the death beside my Aryan kinsmen, to share their travails and their victories, to keep the code of honor of the Sons of Seth…”

And on and on, as Neal repeated each phrase…

“To never-upon pain of hideous death-divulge the secrets, to never betray my brothers, to wage relentless war on our racial enemies and on race traitors, to avenge my fallen brothers, and to keep Yahweh’s commandments first in my mind and heart.”

Carter mumbled a whole bunch of stuff, then asked, “Has Neal Carey been bonded in blood?”

“He has yet to be bonded in blood,” Hansen recited.

But he thinks he’s about to be, Neal thought. Then he had a delightful thought: maybe Graham has the boy already. Maybe he’s picked every lock in the place and is already on the road with Cody tucked under his arm. Maybe…

“Arise, Brother Neal, and approach the altar.”

Neal stepped up.

Carter picked up the Luger. “Behold the sword of Yahweh. Before you may become a true Son of Seth, you must be bonded in blood with your brothers.”

Swell, Neal thought. Well, drag it out. Give Graham all the time you can. I wonder how’s he’s doing.

“Behold the blood of your enemy.”

Then he knew how Graham was doing, because Carlisle and Strekker brought him out from behind the curtain. He was gagged and his hands were tied behind his back.

They brought Graham to the front of the altar, facing Neal, and removed the gag.

“Yahweh has revealed this man’s treachery. Yahweh has exposed him as a traitor to his race!” Carter yelled.