by Haydn Jones
“Yes, Wayne?" said Hunter, picking up the phone.
"Mr Williams, I have checked out all the loose ends now, here in the Bay, and the damage limitation is as planned. I did pick up a set of mug shots while at Hudson’s place and found out that they are some religious sect that had a link to Hudson. I saw him speaking to one of them outside a place down in Fisherman’s Wharf the night he was ‘murdered.' I’ve put them in the file in case we need them, although I don’t see what they have to do with any of this. My search found no criminal records for any of them, and all have good jobs in and around the Bay area."
Wayne had not made the connection with Richard and Vicki Stark during his search.
“Okay, Wayne, come back to Houston ASAP."
"Yes, sir.”
Hunter put the phone down and sat back in his chair, deep in thought.
Linda Washington was sitting quietly on the sofa in her apartment and reflected on the day’s work. The team was now concentrating on M81 in Ursa Major and the data was coming into Houston twenty-four hours a day. McPherson was not, it’s fair to say, as good a Project Manager as Samuel, but he was methodical and he had the respect of the whole team. This morning was his first day back to work after four days and she was glad to see him again. She had missed him while he was at the NASA centre for a series of meetings. He knew that Linda liked him, it was obvious, but McPherson was not interested in her, his thoughts were for Vicki and their child growing inside her. It was beginning to show now and Vicki looked radiant. It excited him to know it was his child, his son. In reality they didn’t know the sex of the child and Vicki decided that she would rather not know until the birth.
Linda Washington realised how much he loved Vicki and resigned herself to the fact that she would never have Rob, but her imagination was vivid and her fantasies were the only sex she was having at the moment. She thought about him and moved her hand down to between her legs, sliding her hand inside her panties she began to gently rub her clitoris. In her imagination she was having wild sex with him and very quickly she brought herself to a climax.
Regaining her composure she walked into the bedroom and opening a bedside drawer she removed a long thick vibrator that buzzed as she turned the end switch on. Lying on the bed she opened her legs and eased it into her wet slit. Slowly she absorbed its full length; Rob was taking her on the white sands of a Pacific Island. She watched his muscular body gyrate as he pounded her in sexual ecstasy. The hot sun on her face, the soft sands on her back; her body arched up as she climaxed once again. She lay still on the bed; perspiration on her face and neck glistening from the light of the bedside lamp. The only sound was a muffled buzzing noise; she had not finished with Rob yet.
"Michel, it’s Joe here, in New York."
"Hi Joe, good to hear your voice again."
"How’s sunny Antwerp?"
"Not so fucking sunny at the moment.”
"You see, in America the sun shines on the virtuous all day long."
"Must be pretty fucking cold where you live," laughed Michel. Laughter echoed from the earpiece making him smile. Joe was the mastermind behind the shipments to America. Born in Chicago he was a tough businessman who’d pulled himself out of the gutter at the age of fourteen. Now forty-two years old, he was rich, beyond his wildest dreams. Even the time he spent in prison for robbery was put to good use: if you wanted anything from drugs to parole, Joe was the man to see, but his thirst for money was addictive. Like the heroin he pushed as a youth. He gave much of his stuff away knowing that when they were hooked they’d be back for more and he’d be there to take the money; and they did come back and he did take their money. Soon he was rich enough to buy in his own gear and that’s when he really made it big. Five years ago he met Michel and it became obvious that between them there was a market demand that they could satisfy. Dealing in drugs is dangerous and the risks are enormous. Guns and Rocket launchers are fun.
"We’ve been paid my friend."
"Good," replied Michel.
"It took me under ten-minutes to put the thing together. Who packed it?"
"The boys, in Germany."
“Fucking brilliant job, even I struggled to find it and I knew it was in there."
"They’re good all right. And my friend, it’s all done through the official channels. Right under their noses.”
“What about the custom seals?"
"No problem, the slime bag would sell his mother for forty-dollars.”
"How long will he be there."
"Long enough for us to make a fortune. I’m paying him more money than he earns in a year. He’s a greedy fat bastard who’ll do anything for money. Talking of money the buyers came yesterday, paid the asking price there and then in used dollars and drove it away."
"Okay, set up the show for next week, I’ll be over to taste the good life."
"I look forward to it Michel."
“Joe… Just one thing."
“Yeah?”
"Are they existing customers?"
"No, new clients, sounded like west-coast to me. Didn’t say much, so I didn’t ask."
"Okay buddy, good work, see you soon."
“Thanks, my friend."
Kim Black was wearing a bright yellow, low cut, summer dress with tan leather sandals and she could feel the hot sun on her shoulders as she walked the few hundred yards from her car to Tom Hudson’s grave in Colma cemetery. She hadn’t visited a cemetery in six years, since her mother had died of cancer. Pretty bunches of flowers were everywhere, laid on the graves by their loved ones. Kim read some of the messages as she walked. ‘I will never forget you.’ ‘I will love you until I die.’ ‘ You’re always in our thoughts.’ ‘May your soul rest in peace.’
The earth around the black marble headstone, that carried the name of Tom Francis Hudson in gold letters, still looked fresh when she arrived.
For a long time she stood staring at his name, motionless in the heat of the day as perspiration beads gathered around her neck and on her forehead. She was thinking about London, about the day when she phoned Samuel and how Tom lay in her hotel bed as she told him it was over. How he comforted her when she cried. The love he showed her was unparalleled and his generosity sometimes overwhelmed her.
Kim stood over the marble stone, legs apart and felt the warm splashes on the inside of her legs as she urinated on his grave. "May you rot in hell you evil bastard."
Photographs of the project team were mounted on a wall of the Long Room with single drawing pins, their edges curling upwards slightly.
The elder father stood, straight backed, with hands held behind him, looking at each of the faces in turn and the names, type written on small labels, below them. His silent contemplation was broken by the sound of footsteps that echoed off the walls, as two members walked across the room. Stopping at the altar they both kneeled and made the sign of the cross before continuing to where the pictures hung.
The time has come, Domaradzki thought to himself. "Tomorrow gentlemen, you both leave for Houston," he said, continuing to look at the photographs as they approached. "And, remember this is a surveillance operation, do not be conspicuous. We need to know everything about these sinners," he snarled, pointing to the photographs. "The cars they drive; where they live; their daily schedules; where they work; everything about them must be detailed, if the plan is to succeed. Observe them well, report back soon and remember the words of our God to Hosea son of Beeri: For Israel hath forgotten his Maker, and buildeth temples; and Judah hath multiplied fenced cities: but I will send a fire upon his cities, and it shall devour the palaces thereof. Hosea, Chapter 8, verse 14."
Reaching into his pocket, he handed them each airline tickets for Houston. "We have no time to waste. Good luck and may God be with you." As he watched them depart he moved to the table where a Bible lay open. Sitting down he started to read:-
Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of Heaven. And he overthrew these cities, and all the
plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground.
Genesis: Chapter 19 verses 24-25
“Richard, are you okay?" enquired Susan.
"Yes, of course I am. What do you mean?" he asked, his voice sounding agitated.
"It’s just that you seem on edge lately. As if there’s something on your mind."
"No, it’s nothing. I guess I’m just a little tired, too many boat trips, and your Dad worries me sometimes, with his chest pains."
Susan was naturally unaware of the sect that controlled her husband’s mind. She would not be able to comprehend that her husband was a member of the 'Children of Jesus' and that they murdered people. It was an organization of extremists, of killers. Their ‘Church’ was different of course; it had no congregation, no sound of singing, no Sunday school for the little children. It was there to purge society of corruption, to cleanse God’s Earth, like a modern day Inquisition. Lead by a psychopath, who had already killed innocent people. (His real name was Adam Domaradzki - a descendant of Polish origin.) Born in New York fifty-eight years ago, he was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic at the age of thirteen. His mother, a proud woman with strong beliefs had great influence on him as a child and was his source of comfort. His drunken father sexually abused him, buying his silence with terrible beatings. He would escape from reality into an insular world where nobody entered, a world safe from pain and the stench of his father’s foul alcoholic breath on his face.
Changing his name to Adam Doors, he moved to California ten-years ago, after being castigated by the Church, for his outspoken views, totally unaware of the murders he had already committed. All had died by his hand, from multiple stab wounds to the face and neck, and in each case their eyes had been gouged out and their tongues cut out.
Richard had met Domaradzki during one of his boat trips to Alcatraz. Over the years Richard had become most intolerant of many of his clients. On the day of the trip he made a chance comment to Domaradzki about the conduct of a small group of loud mouthed drunks at the rear of the boat whose language was particularly bad, saying, "Where are their morals these days? Do you know, as a Christian I’m sometimes appalled with what I see and hear." That was the catalyst for Domaradzki who at the time was looking for recruits to fund his new Sect.
Within days Richard Stark had willingly joined. Now he was one of the twelve ‘chosen’ disciples, happy to eliminate the scum from this Earth, the mindless morons that bring disgrace to the human race and happy to carry out the murders in the name of God.
"It’s worrying I know," said Susan, "but, the doctor says the medication should allow him to live a fairly normal life. He just mustn’t get too excited."
"Oh that’s easy to say isn’t it. Just look at him since Vicki said she was pregnant."
"You don’t seem too happy with that do you?"
"With what?"
"With Vicki — and the baby."
“What do you mean?"
"Richard you were just not with it last weekend. I don’t care what you say, but something’s wrong."
"I’m tired I told you. I’m delighted for her and Rob, why shouldn’t I be? She’s my sister for God’s sake,” he responded angrily.
"Okay, okay. Take it easy."
"I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to shout."
"Do you want to talk about it Rich?"
"There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve told you. I just need some rest that’s all."
"Why don’t you have an early night? Why don’t we both have an early night?" Susan said, smiling suggestively.
Richard was not able to think about such mundane matters as sex. His mind was firmly set on other things.
"Another time love, when I feel like I’ve got the energy to satisfy you."
“I never thought I see the day when you’d turn down the offer of sex."
Richard didn’t respond to her comment because he wasn’t listening to her.
"Have you thought about seeing a doctor? Perhaps you’re run down and need some kind of tonic."
"What? … No, I’ll be okay."
"Then why don’t you get away for a few days and have a break like you used to do?"
“Yeah — Yeah — Maybe that’s not a bad idea. I’ll give it some thought," he said, as he walked out of the room onto the veranda.
Susan looked pleased that her suggestion had been considered with some seriousness. Richard's mood worried her and she knew her dad was not the only thing on his mind.
Hell, she thought. What if he’s got another woman. I’ve just given him a reason to get away. She would approach the subject in bed tonight; she needed to get to the bottom of it.
It was evening and Westheimer was busy. McPherson indicated and turned off right into Brier Grove and continued the few hundred yards until the restaurant came into view. There were still parking spaces available and he pulled the truck into one near the main entrance. Even the short walk was uncomfortable in a relative humidity of 98%. Vicki was hungry but then she had been for months, ever since the baby had taken first priory over her energy supply. McPherson was looking forward to the evening and the chance to relax in an atmosphere of good food and wine.
"Good evening sir and madam, do you have a table reservation?" asked the smartly dressed waiter as they walked into the welcoming cool of the air-conditioned reception area.
"Yes, we do. It’s booked in the name of Doctor McPherson," he replied.
"Ah yes, I have your reservation. Please be seated, your waiter for the evening will be with you soon."
Subtle pink floor-lighting deflected off the white washed stone walls and lit the ceiling, where fishing nets draped as if drying in the heat of the sun. The smell of roasted coffee filled the air to complement the chatter of enthusiastic diners.
"Hi guys my name is Simon and I’m your waiter for this evening. Can I fix you some drinks while you take a look at the menu or would you like to come through now?"
"I think we’ll go through now," replied McPherson.
"Certainly, follow me please," said the waiter, as he gestured the way to their table.
At six months, it was now obvious that Vicki was pregnant and her stomach was a great source of amusement to McPherson, especially when the baby was active and kicking. He would lay in bed with his ear to her tummy listening to the variety of swishing noises that emanated from her ‘lump,’ as he called it.
The day of the wedding had yet to be agreed but they both planned to have a quiet affair with just family and a few close friends. Being in public with Vicki made McPherson very proud. Not only was she beautiful but she was radiant as well. Pregnancy certainly suited her.
After being shown to their table in a corner of the restaurant they spent some time in silence while they both studied the menu.
"What a difficult choice," said Vicki.
"I know. It’s all good."
"I think I’ll go for fish this evening…brain food you know."
"I feel like I need some of that, after today. All that data and not one Martian to be seen… or rather heard."
"Well, did you think it would be easy darling?"
“No…not at all."
"Rob... What if God did make the heavens and the Earth?" Enquired Vicki with a frown.
Rob considered the question for a while. "I read somewhere that back in 1650, an Archbishop ‘somebody’ used the biblical chronology to sum the lifespans of all the descendants of Adam, and from that he calculated that the World was created by God in 4004 BC. That doesn’t add up does it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well," responded Rob. "We know now that the world is at least four-billion years old, not six thousand."
"Yeah, but that doesn’t explain how we got here does it. I mean as good as they are, these geologists, they don’t have an unbroken history of man’s evolution do they? Life on Earth may all be made of the same thing, but where did we get our souls? Maybe God’s hand had something to do with it, you know, the Holy Spir
it and all that stuff. All right, perhaps not quite the 6 days as described in Genesis but maybe some kind of divine intervention. After all, the Bible wasn’t written by God was it. It’s man’s interpretation isn’t it? This baby that’s growing inside me, this little miracle of life; is it possible to say that it has evolved from a primordial broth? I find that hard to believe somehow."
"The official line is that we are the only ones, but you know Raymond’s view is very different. His experiences suggest that there are others out there and I must say I have seen some strange things."
"Have you seen another form of intelligent life with your own eyes?" Vicki asked quietly. McPherson hesitated for a moment.
"I’ve seen the bodies in Washington." Rob said in a whisper.
"Come on."
"Keep your voice down...I’ve seen them with my own eyes."
"You're kidding me!”
"No, I am not kidding you."
"Well, what do they look like?"
"Please keep your voice down; this can’t get out Vicki, it’s top secret and I'm sworn to secrecy, you know that."
"Okay, so what do they look like?" she repeated, with a determined whisper.
McPherson looked edgy.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll kill you.”
“…Not that dissimilar to us I guess. They’re dead for a start, so they look kind of spooky anyway. They have no hair but they’ve got two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and ears. Their fingers are much longer than ours though."
"Five?"
"Yeah, five."
"So how do we know they’re aliens? They may be twins from a traveling freak show."
"They tried to cut their skin with surgical knives, and couldn’t." Vicki just stared at Rob in total disbelief.
"There’s no sign of tissue deterioration after 18 months at a temperature of 38 degrees, and if that’s not enough, they’re four times heavier than the equivalent human male. We don't know what sex they are, because they don't have bits."
"You mean a penis?"
"A penis or a vagina, there's nothing there at all."