Redemption

by Dufour, Danny

  She’d picked the building for its high church-like ceilings. It would be the ideal space for their Redemption once the grunt work was done. Workers swarmed through the floors and they watched the club take shape before their very eyes. She was managing a million things at the same time and she hadn’t slept much since the other four had left. She was used to this type of project, but nothing came close to this in terms of importance. Her favorite part, and the hardest, was the layout and decoration. She had to anticipate everything: every deadline, every conflict, every disaster.

  She had entrusted the task of publicity to her precious contacts she’d netted over the years. She gave the carte blanche and as much money as they wanted to promote it in the highest echelons. However, she was careful to do all the hiring herself. Considering the club’s actual function, she had installed surveillance technology everywhere until she was sure she had beat the CIA in thoroughness. Everything was well-hidden, but she had seen to it that the whole building was literally a stronghold and a crow’s nest. The huge ground floor held a dance floor and multiple bar counters. The second stage was divided into salons, and the third, the penthouse, was restricted to the team. Unaccustomed to doing anything halfway, she’d also stocked the underground parking garage with luxury cars and motorcycles for their future use. There were two speedboats on the pier nearby. She took pride in the fact that she’d left nothing up to chance.

  Right now, of course, it was not so much a slick hotspot as a construction site, and clatters and bangs echoed from every quarter. Everything’s going plan. Despite her supercharged schedule, her mind was frequently in Mexico; they’d been there for weeks now and she’d had no news. She was annoyed that she had to be here alone instead of with them, but her task was essential. They needed a base of operations.

  “So, are you the owner?” the reporter asked casually.

  “Actually, I have four associates from all sorts of backgrounds. We decided to unite and create a club that would represent the best of Miami.”

  “It appears to be a multi-million-dollar project, judging from the real estate. Would you give exclusive favor to our paper by divulging the size of your investment?”

  “We’re not revealing the precise amount, but I will say that our goal is to become one of the most connected places in Miami, and I believe we’ve succeeded!” she said enthusiastically.

  “The competition here is fierce. Would you explain your concept a little, Miss Stone?”

  “Well, above all, this is a dance club, as you see, with a huge maximum capacity. You’ve got a few bars on the first floor, as well as a dance floor. The second floor is full of private or semi-private salons for clients looking for a calmer atmosphere, or a spot to host a private party.”

  “I see. And what makes this spot unique?”

  “I intend to arrange it like an Asian Zen garden. When you come for the night at Redemption, you’re living in a mix of serenity and festivity that a South Beach night holds. Come spend the night with us, we assure you, it will be a unique experience, believe me! Our establishment is unpretentious and targeted toward a clientele of all ages, all backgrounds. But, first and foremost, you will find style, glamour, celebration and good taste. In short, Redemption will be the hot Miami night!” she said with a smile.

  “Do you see a certain musical style?”

  “It’ll be a mix, anything from the 80s, 90s, today.”

  “It seems the official opening is approaching.”

  “Yes indeed. I intend to throw a huge event for the opening to establish our image and reputation everywhere!”

  “And how do you intend to become one of the most prestigious clubs in Miami?”

  “This isn’t my first kick at the can. I have plenty of years of experience in this area, and rest assured, you’ll find the highest level of service. Are you looking for a rare cocktail or an odd request? You’ll find it at Redemption.”

  “Anything’s possible for the right amount, right?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

  “Well said.”

  “And why ‘Redemption’?”

  “Hm… let’s say that all of us went through difficulties and the creation of the club is sort of our salute, the culmination of our work over so many years,” she lied.

  “How original!” he cried with his nose in his notebook.

  “We try. Will I see you at our opening?”

  “Well, our readers will be interested in the coverage.”

  “Naturally. You won’t be disappointed, and who knows… maybe we’ll surprise you,” she said with a wink, sliding an invitation toward him.

  CHAPTER 47

  Namara rolled along through the night for a while. He’d left the group at the motel to cruise along the intersection where most of the women were found. The area was practically wilderness. Nothing but stretches of desert, cut with little bumpy roads, in any direction. He had left the city lights several minutes ago and he was engulfed in the black with no idea where he was going. He cruised at the lowest speed, wary of the potholes. He paid close attention to make sure he wouldn’t get lodged in the sand. After acquainting himself with the area, well-assured that he was alone, he parked the car and cut the engine.

  Total silence fell and he stayed in the car to think. Alone, in the middle of nowhere, he thought of Sanfeng and Chao Heng. It was time to test what he’d learned. He opened the door and stepped out. He welcomed the warm wind that blew over his face. He checked in all directions for people, but he was alone with the wind and the darkness. He left the road and started into the desert. He felt his feet sink into the sand bit by bit as we walked. He had taken care to wear boots because he’d heard that the desert was full of bugs. He didn’t want to walk on a nest of vipers and he took care to look where he was stepping, for all the good it did him in the darkness. After walking for a few hundred meters, his eyes had become accustomed to the dark and the full force of the isolation hit him. It’s bloody depressing out here. He wondered if it was a good idea to be out here alone, but now that he was here, he had to try. He took deep breaths to loosen up, closed his eyes and took the position Chao Heng had taught him, hands at chest-height. He began to rid his mind of all worries or thoughts as the wind danced around him.

  As he entered deep meditation, he sank his mind deep into the ground. He felt that the earth energy was sucking him up like he was stepping into a quicksand. He lost all sense of time and place. Then, when he’d achieved the desired state, he began to drift toward the unknown. He concentrated on the murder victims. He opened himself to the energy of the place, and to something else, the nature of which he wasn’t exactly sure. Nothing happened at the beginning and he drifted deeper into a near-sleep. Images of victims flashed in his mind’s eye, accompanied by feelings. Suddenly, there was a death-scream, such that it seemed the woman must have been standing right next to him. His heart skipped a beat. He reminded himself he was alone and to keep his eyes shut. He’d never felt anything like that and once again wondered if his mind was malfunctioning.

  Then there was another blood-curdling scream. His whole body had spasms like he was being electrocuted. His extremities burned. Images played like a movie in his head, things through the eyes of someone else. He didn’t own his body anymore. He felt smothered. Screaming and moaning intensified. A white church like a Spanish mission. He might have been standing right in front of it. Three bells in the bell tower. The whole thing faded into lime green. There was a flutter, like insect wings, so many per second. It flew toward him, away. Red now, something turning. A propeller? He couldn’t tell. He approached it and then it was a man. Screams of terror. The face was covered in tattoos, he couldn’t tell what they were. Shaved head, eye sockets tattooed like a skull. His whole head was a skull. More demon than man. He didn’t say anything, there was a grin on his gruesome face. Namara was seized with terror and there were screams, bells, insects that flew.

  He opened his eyes and collapsed on all-fours. He panted; he still felt smothered. Slowly,
as he collected his thoughts, he realized that he’d inhabited someone else’s body for a moment. He had felt, and seen, what the victims had seen. The wind continued to blow and Namara ran back to his car. He was wiped, like he’d just run a marathon. There was evil here; he felt it now. He had to get out. In the car, he sat immobile for several seconds, trying to calm himself down, still panting.

  “Shit, I really am losing it,” he murmured as the car started.

  He swung a U-turn and left, holding onto the images. Despite what he’d said, he didn’t really think he was crazy.

  CHAPTER 48

  “More coffee?” asked the young waitress in the white uniform.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Namara responded.

  He watched the steaming black liquid fall quietly into the cup. There’s nothing more comforting in the world than the aroma of roasted beans. The team was seated around a booth. The twenty-four-hour diner, which was mainly patronized by truck drivers from the States, looked straight out of the 50s. They served a bit of everything at a relatively low price, which pleased travelers. There was a huge parking lot at the back for the truck drivers who were stopping for the night. The team had decided to grab a bite as they debriefed the files once more. Namara hadn’t talked about his visions until now; he’d preferred to reflect on them until he could talk about them without danger of flashbacks. Night seemed to be the diner’s busiest time and the waitresses scurried all over, taking orders.

  “You sure it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you?” asked Guerra over his steak and fries.

  “I would know if it was an illusion, James, and I can tell you it wasn’t. I saw them like I’m seeing you know. What I felt… there aren’t words to describe the horror.”

  “What do you think it means?” asked Ming Mei.

  “I think I saw through the victim’s eyes. I wasn’t myself. I felt terror like I’ve never felt in my life. The images were too real. I think the church really exists, and the man with the tattooed face. The rest has got to mean something too, but I can’t explain it at the moment.”

  “Tell me something, Namara,” said Guerra. “How did this happen to you? I don’t get it.”

  Namara sighed, taking a moment to choose his words.

  “Listen, it’s linked to certain concentration techniques, if I may. It lets one connect with the energy around us, to put it simply. It’s what I tried… I connected myself with the surrounding energies of the crime scene. I didn’t think it could be so powerful.”

  “So, if I follow, it let you have visions related to the murders?”

  “Basically, yeah. That’s what I think, but I’m not completely sure. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything like it.”

  “Listen… sorry, mate, but I think you’re probably mentally exhausted.”

  Shinsaku abruptly broke his silence.

  “Munen-Mushin!”

  Guerra jumped. “I beg your pardon?”

  “In Japanese, it means: without thought, without mind. Some samurais agreed that the ultimate level of martial arts was the mastery of the self by mental immobilization. The masters of these techniques developed esoteric powers of all kinds through practice. Clairvoyance was one of these powers!”

  “You know, Shinsaku, there are days when it takes all my concentration to aim for the toilet bowl. I’m not sure I follow you, what’s your point?”

  “I think he went down that invisible path. He opened his third eye, or even developed a sixth sense, if you like! We can’t dismiss it. You ought to take this seriously, James. I think he received information we ought to listen to, not hallucinations!”

  “Fine, fine… all right. Bollocks. What on earth have I got myself into?”

  “And about that cross, did you find anything?” asked Namara of Ming Mei.

  “Yeah, I found something. The cross with the curved base is a satanic symbol. You know, in Christianity, heaven is full of angels. It’s the same in Hell. There’s a hierarchy among demons. Study of this hierarchy makes up a whole branch of theology called ‘demonology’. Satanists are well aware of the details and some follow the cult of one demon over the others based on what they want and what they preach. What you need to know is that Hell holds all sorts of demons who all have their own particularities, especially the four Princes of Darkness that govern them: Lucifer, Satan, Belial and Leviathan. The cross with the semi-circle represents an upside-down question mark, like calling into doubt the supreme power of God. If you consider Lucifer the chief supreme of Hell, there are three under him. This cross represents the coronation of the three principal Princes of Darkness under Satan, that is, Lucifer, Belial and Leviathan. The triangle can be used by Satanists as a symbol representing the three princes, one for each corner. You see where I’m going with the digit 3. That explains why the bodies point East, compass and clock face. Remember that ‘3’ also has a Christian significance in the Holy Trinity. So, they would dispose of the bodies like that as a provocation toward God and the Trinity. The cross symbolizes the coronation and domination of the three Princes of Darkness on earth.”

  “Nice work,” said Namara. “Things are starting to make sense.”

  “Is that all we know for the moment?” asked Guerra.

  “Maybe not,” said Namara pensively.

  “Go on, tell us… you’ve got something else, don’t you?”

  “Well, when I was down there, I thought of something. The desert wind. There’s a strong, hot wind that swirled around me the whole time I was there. I felt it on my face… I heard it whistle,” he said, his mind emptying as he gazed into his black steaming coffee.

  “There’s often wind here, that’s normal. So?” retorted Guerra

  “I did some research the next day. I pulled about forty case files and noted down all the dates of their capture. Then I found a website, a meteorological database with daily temperatures, and I went back about five years for San Matanza. There were strong winds each day of the kidnappings. I know winds are frequent given the vastness of the terrain, but some days are more intense than others, and the days of the kidnappings were uniformly more intense. I don’t think it could be a coincidence between forty-ish victims. I didn’t go through all of them, but I’m certain that they’ll all say exactly the same thing,” he concluded.

  “Are you thinking that the killers are influenced by the weather?”

  “Maybe not always, but one thing is sure in my mind... the wind means something to them,” said Namara.

  Ming Mei knit her eyebrows in silence. “During my research, I read a lot about the subject. Can you guess what they called Belial in certain Hebrew texts?”

  They stared at her.

  “All right, don’t everybody shout out at once. They called Belial the Demon of Winds!”

  “So, the killers are sworn to a cult of Belial… we’ll have to get closer to them,” said Namara.

  “Belial is considered the most dissolute, the vilest and most villainous of all the demonic entities,” added Ming Mei.

  “And that pretty much sums up the nature of the murders,” said Guerra.

  “Yeah, exactly,” Namara interjected. “The more we discuss it, the more I’m convinced that Armando’s Desert Devils really exists. They leave at night when the wind picks up to find a victim. They think themselves servants of Belial and they glide through the night like ghosts to do their deeds. They spread terror and fear in this city. They’re like Evil’s representatives and they like to stir it up. I think we’re getting close.”

  “Ok. And now… what do we do?” asked Shinsaku.

  “We need to find that white church. I’m sure it’s linked to all this. I’ll research all the churches in San Matanza and the surrounding villages. Or it could even be across the border in Texas, so I’ll comb through all the little border towns on that side.

  “I’ll help,” offered Guerra.

  A cacophony arose, like a bunch of cows mooing.

  “What the hell is that,” asked Namara, glancing around. Then he fel
t his cell phone vibrate – it was his ringtone. “Bastard,” he hissed at Guerra, “you fucked up my phone again, didn’t you?”

  Guerra laughed with the rest. Namara answered it hastily – the other patrons had started to look around for escaped farm animals.

  “Yeah, hi, what?”

  “Bingo! It seems we have a winner!”

  “Andy! What have you got for me!?”

  “His name is Eduardo Gomez and he’s a Mexican citizen who served in the Guatemalan Army. He is a former Special Forces soldier from an infamous death squad named 'Bezbet’ which is responsible for several massacres involving civilians. He deserted in 2000. I looked through the penitentiary databases and our charming friend was put away in 2001 for cocaine trafficking. He did some time and was let go. In 2004, he was arrested by the DEA in El Paso, Texas during a raid. Several traffickers were arrested, but for lack of evidence, he got off. After that he became more discreet. He’s a known trafficker and he’s affiliated with the Alvarez cartel in San Matanza. He’s a suspect in several ongoing investigations, but our friend has been lucky up ‘til now. I found him in the penitentiary files because they record the prisoners’ tattoos. Wolf head on the left arm, rose on the right. The chances that our friend Ed is the man described by witnesses is very high. And the best part: our friend seems to love money, because he opened a strip club in downtown San Matanza. He’s involved in prostitution and surely in several other lucrative businesses – maybe trafficking women? It seems like our friend likes to diversify his revenues. We’ve got a businessman on our hands!” said Andy. “Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s just awesome. Thanks, Andy, this gives us a huge boost,” said Namara, taking notes in the notebook in front of him.

  “There are times when I feel extremely generous. Ok, do you have a pen and paper?”