J. Gonzalez - They

“ Hail Satan !” Brian and Kimberly Dennison chanted in unison, looking at Vince with what looked like awe.

“ Hail Andrew !” The room chanted.

“Hail to the One Who Will Claim the World as Ours!” Samuel Garrison thundered.

A roaring cacophony: “Hail Satan! Ruler of the Earth, Destroyer of Christ, Savior to Us All. All Hail the Red Opener, gateway to Hanbi! Hail Satan! Hail Andrew!”

And as the voices roared in his head, as the people gathered in the room paid him the ultimate knowledge, Vincent Walters tipped his head back and let his rage and hate and anger take over, and then he really went mad.

September 13, 2004

VINCE WALTERS WAS in his office going over contracts when his secretary called him on his secure line.

Vince answered on speaker-phone. “Yes.”

“There’s a woman here to see you,” Barbara said. She sounded flustered. “She doesn’t have an appointment and—”

“Then send her away,” Vince said, turning back to his paperwork, dismissing her.

“I’ve tried and I was just about to call security but she’s insisting I call you first.” Barbara sounded pissed off now and Vince looked up from his paperwork, curious. Barbara never got angry. She could turn away the most ambitious salesman. Whoever this woman was, she’d really gotten under Barbara’s skin.

“Who is she?” Vince asked.

“She says—” Barbara began and then she was cut off by the sound of another woman’s voice, demanding something. Barbara said, “Ma’am, I’m telling him. Now will you please be patient!” To Vince: “She says her name is Brandy Black and that you knew her husband Frank. She’s requesting a meeting and I’ve told her that your calendar—”

“Send her in,” Vince said, frowning.

Barbara started, her voice surprised. “Send her in?”

“Send her in,” Vince confirmed. He hung up and began sweeping the papers he was working on into a folder labeled Al Azif Project . He’d finished the deal on this last year, shortly after making presidency of the corporation. He was not only in charge of World Accounts, the Al Azif project had been handed to him without question. He invested the funds in high yield stocks and bonds, channeled the profits to various offshore accounts and wiped his hands clean of it. In the years to come, the project would fund various weapons technologies intended for the US Government’s so-called War Against Terror. It would also fund biological research that would be a fundamental part of this new weapon. Once engaged, the group’s plans could move forward.

He swept the file into the top folder of his desk, making a mental note to place it in his safe when the door to his office opened and a dark-haired woman walked in.

Barbara was behind her, looking flustered. “Mr. Walters I tried to—”

“It’s all right,” Vince said, rising to his feet and buttoning his sport coat. He held his hand out to one of the two soft leather chairs in front of his desk and smiled at Brandy Black. “Mrs. Black. Nice to meet you. Please, have a seat.”

“No thanks, I’ll stand.” Brandy Black had crossed the room and now stood in front of the desk, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes smoldering. She was a stunningly attractive woman; five foot five with a trim, athletic body. Her features were beautifully sculptured; high cheekbones, full lips, perfect nose, stunning eyes, and luscious black hair that fell to her shoulders. She and Frank must have made a beautiful couple.

“Fine,” Vince said. He caught Barbara’s eye and nodded. Barbara got the hint and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Frank smiled at Brandy and sank back into his chair. “Well then,” he said, leaning back. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Black?”

“Don’t you know?” Like Barbara, Brandy looked pissed. Only she looked like she had a mission.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Vince said. “Why don’t we start from the beginning?”

Brandy relaxed a little bit; her shoulders slumped slightly, her features softened. “I… um, listen, I’m sorry if I was nasty to your secretary back there, but she really pissed me off.”

Vince smiled. “Barbara’s been known to do that to even International Investors. That’s why I’ve retained her services.”

“Yeah, well, she wouldn’t even listen to me as I tried to tell her why I needed to see you,” Brandy said, and now she was slipping into another persona, one that was probably more normal for her. “If she hadn’t been so difficult, I wouldn’t have gotten so mad at her and I wouldn’t have stormed in here like some Nazi Storm-Trooper.”

Vince chuckled. “Nazi Storm-Trooper. I like that. Has a nice ring to it.”

Brandy turned to Vince, all traces of anger gone. Now she looked serious. “I’m sorry I’ve intruded on you, Mr. Walters, but you’re my only hope. I’ve been… trying to find out what happened to my husband for almost… well, for over two years now, and I’m getting nowhere.”

“So what do you want me to do?” This was the first time Vince had spoken to Brandy, much less met her. He’d kept tabs, though. The Mike Peterson murder-suicide case had been big news for a while until it was replaced by something else. The police had never questioned Vince in the death of Frank Black. As for Mike’s friend William Grecko, he’d proved to be no problem. Shortly after the Mike Peterson murder-suicide case broke, William Grecko checked himself in to a rehabilitation facility for his chronic alcoholism. He’d remained there for a month, then took a nearly one-year leave of absence from his law firm. The group monitored Grecko closely, but the lawyer seemed to have no interest in the Peterson case. When he did return to work, he took less stressful cases, mostly involving family matters. Shortly after Grecko went into rehab, the law firm’s offices were broken into and the entire suite searched; several computers were taken. The resulting data taken from the pilfered documents and computers stolen from the office suggested that none of William Grecko’s employees had any knowledge of his relationship with Mike Peterson. If Billy had any evidence saved on any electronic media, he’d taken it with him and put it in a safe place. A subsequent search of his home during his stint in rehab had come up with nothing as well.

That was fine, though. William Grecko couldn’t do anything even if he did reach out to his FBI contact. The group had friends in every government agency. At the first whiff of investigation, certain powers-that-be would make the appropriate moves and the investigation would be stopped.

In the years that had passed, Vince had resumed his life and position at Corporate Financial. He ascended to a higher role in the organization, began directing certain activities. Outside of the corporate structure, he began directing certain magical activities, including the monitoring of an older ritual the Yazidis developed, one they had practiced fifteen hundred years ago but was said to have elements that went back even further, to Sumerian times. In fact, he’d just received word from a high-ranking member of the group, Julie Montenelli, that the latest in a series of these rituals had just concluded successfully. These rituals, combined with others being practiced by the group, would create the right atmosphere for his own soul-cracking. And then, when the stars were right…

Brandy Black was an extremely beautiful woman. She was also extremely bold, especially to have hopped on a plane to California to confront him face to face. She was trying hard to control herself; her eyes were smoldering pits and her lips were pressed into a thin line of anger. Vince could detect her anger just simmering beneath the surface. “You’ve been ignoring me for years,” she said, a low whisper, guttural with anger and menace. “He seeks you out because he thinks he can help you… he risks his life because he thinks you’re in danger…” Brandy was lurching closer towards him, looking like she wanted to leap over his desk and throttle him. “…he does all this and you ignore me!”