Chapter 15
One Hell Of A Mess
It did not last: the Devil howling, "Ho! Let Einstein be!" restored the status quo.
—Sir John Collings Squire
"YOU REMEMBER NOTHING OF LAST NIGHT, FATHER?"
Joe asked, a little frustrated and wondering whether he, the priest, or Marge was crazy.
"No, I'm afraid I—well, I was in no shape to remember things last night, I fear. It's the pressure of all this going on around me."
The priest that Joe and Poquah faced was quite a different sort of person from the one Marge chanced on the previous evening. He was tall, military in his bearing, and quite cold sober.
"You're not Irish, though, in spite of your name?"
The priest sighed. "No, I'm not, although I don't know how you know that. It was one of the stupider things I did in my youth. I'm afraid that I've always had a taste for the grape, or worse, but I never could really handle it. I was on the wagon for years, went through AA, and was a fine example—until this business happened here."
"We are here, we hope, to end this business. Father," Poquah said. "If what we've heard is true, we may need your help to do so. We have battled this evil man before and won when all others had been defeated. We know him and respect, rather than fear him—but this is our gravest challenge."
"What do you need done, then?"
"You have, we understand, performed exorcisms?" The priest sighed. "Yes. Unfortunately, those were mostly in my off-the-wagon days. I have some memory of the subjects, but little memory of the actual exorcisms. Those for whom I performed them seemed comforted and pleased."
It was becoming increasingly clear to both of them that Father O'Grady was really two people, one drunk and one sober. The drunk saw Fairies as they were and had at least one foot in the supernatural world, while the sober one was the coldly rational and somewhat distant intellectual they faced.
"Tell me, Father—do you believe in the Devil?" Joe asked. "I mean it, I'm not just kidding around."
The priest thought a moment. "Yes, son, I believe in the Devil and in Hell. I've been partly there. I was in Vietnam for quite a long time, and I was later in Beirut. I've also stood in the preserved remains of concentration camps in Germany, where you can still feel the evil. I believe that God exists and I have come face-to-face with evil, and so I have no choice but to believe in the Devil as well."
Joe nodded. "The Devil's here, Father—and not in an abstract sense. He's over there, in that compound, in that old house."
"The Baron has opened a pathway between Hell and the house," the Imir added. "It is there and it is real and tangible. He draws his power from it. The Baron and Dacaro are evil men. Dacaro has more sheer temporal power than the Baron, but it is the Baron's intellect and will which guide him. Something monstrous is going to be loosed tomorrow night. We are going to attempt to stop it from happening, even at the cost of our lives. We will attempt it with or without you, but we need your help, your expertise."
"But you can't even get in!"
"We can get in—any time we wish. The trick isn't getting in, it's accomplishing what we must accomplish. The Baron fears us so much that the Elders attempted to kill my companion here the other night, using pistols. It may require violent action, even killing some of them, but it must be done."
Oddly, the priest seemed more fascinated than put off by this. It was very clear that he was so afraid of the True Path and so disgusted with it that he would leap at striking a blow against it, and his combat experience certainly didn't hurt. Chaplains didn't fight, but bullets never respected their rank or position.
"Assuming we could get in at all, what would you have me do? You're not talking about some demented man who is, or thinks he is, possessed by spirits. I admit I'm having trouble even accepting the idea, but you are saying that there is a demon, evil incarnate, in there. That's not an exorcism."
"It isn't exorcism that we need," the Imir told him, "nor could it be very effective in any case. Somewhere in the cellar of that old house is the gateway, the way through. We need to get into that cellar, which also contains the Baron's offices, find that gateway, and seal it shut. Cut it off or contain it. Even Hell is constrained by laws and agreements that it made. But it will take no simple pentagram drawn in chalk. There is too much power there for that."
Father O'Grady thought for a moment. "What is needed, then, is a Seal of Solomon. It resembles the Star of David, but in addition has various legends and symbols written in the created triangles. Activated by the proper liturgy, it is supposed to prevail against the Devil himself."
"Then that's what we must do. Seal it off. Once sealed, how much trouble would it be to undo it?" Poquah asked him.
"I've never done any of this, but I've read up on it. If properly done, it could not be broken from either side. That gateway would be closed, the Seal set within the very Earth itself and guarded by the power of God. Even broken or erased, it would exist."
"Then that is what we need. I'm not minimizing the risks for the impossibility of the task, though, Father. We may well have to fight our way in there. We may face forces beyond our control. And, if we do make it and locate the place and even seal it, we may not be able to get back out again, for it will do nothing to those, some with power themselves, who will be after us."
"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" The priest sighed. "You realize, gentlemen, that you would be thrown out of here or be taken out to the nearest asylum under normal circumstances. Had I not seen this power of evil you speak about in operation here, I would not even have given you the time of day. They've left me here as a poor, old, retired drunk of a priest, not only to be a permanent bad example, but also because they felt I would eventually pack up and leave. I'm angry and I'm frustrated. I haven't felt this way since I stood in front of the Marines' demolished barracks in Beirut and helped them haul out the bodies of more than two hundred fine young men. When you meet and look into the eyes of fanatical young men who are perfectly willing to drive a truck full of explosives into a place and detonate it, even though they, too, will die, all because some so-called religious leader, for his own ends, told them God wanted them to do so, and you turn around, in your own small, peaceful village here in the United States, and see the same look and the same devotion on those who once were your friends and neighbors..." He paused a moment, trying to force down his fury.
Finally he said, "Gentlemen, I still think this is madness, but perhaps even my death or disappearance will cause some ripples elsewhere. I have no family, my friends are my enemies, and I have no future. Perhaps I am driven by this to be as deluded as that fanatic who drove that truck into the barracks. And yet—I will go with you. I must believe that God has placed me here for some reason, in this situation. When do we go?"
"Tonight, Father," Joe told him. "That's when you'll also get a few new lessons in the supernatural."
The little church seemed the ideal place to meet at sundown, and Joe and Poquah left and went back to their car. Both were preoccupied with the coming night's work and got in without even thinking about it. Suddenly they froze as someone's head came up in the back seat, and both whirled and halted themselves only at the last moment.
"Mahalo McMahon!" Joe exclaimed. "What the hell is this?"
She was still wearing the flowers and the lei and nothing else.
"Hi ya, Conan! Geez, I'm sorry I scared you like that, but there didn't seem to be any other way. They're all over the place."
Joe looked at Poquah, who checked her out for spells. She had one, but it wasn't in the nature of a controlling threat. She was definitely not working involuntarily for the Baron, although that didn't mean she wasn't working for him freely.
Poquah started the car, and they drove off, not toward the trailer but just around, while they evaluated what she said. Poquah had the power to know truth from fiction.
"It was real late, y'know, long after you left. I got some more of that good stuff out and started to refill t
he pipe when they suddenly came busting in the front door. I mean, geez, I was alone in there! Luckily I got lots of exits out of there, since you never know who or what's gonna come around to maybe bust you. I rolled back and hit the trip that dropped me under the altar and really put me under the church, you know what I mean? Well, I'm scared to move, like maybe they got the whole place surrounded, you know? So I wait there and I hear 'em walking all over and like that; finally I hear this woman's voice say, 'We could be here all night in this cold and rain,' and this guy's voice says, 'Yeah, but she can't get away.' So she says, 'We don't have time to waste on turning over every slab in this joint. Put a watch on her house and her friends and let's go.' And then she pauses and adds, 'Mahalo McMahon, I am the Baroness de Boquillas! If you are within the sound of my voice, as you are now, so will you remain, until you come to me along the True Path.' And all of a sudden I get kind of tingly, you know, and then I hear 'em leave."
She'd huddled there under the church for hours, then managed to sneak out, avoiding the two men set to watch the place, but she was cold and stark naked. Her house and the houses other friends were all covered—she spotted the watchers, but there was no way around them— and so she'd spent a cold and miserable night in an old woodshed. In the morning, she had the idea to steal some wash off somebody's line so she could at least get out of there—a sari from a sheet or something—and she had the opportunity, but she could not do it.
"I mean, like, it's creepy, but I can't stand the thought of putting anything on. Nothin' but these flowers, anyway. I got to admit I never much liked wearing any more clothes than I had to, but this is different. The idea of putting something on is like—well, like the idea of eating shit or something."
"It is a conditional curse," Poquah told her. "The Baroness is the Baroness because she has some power and the intellect to use it. If she had been patient and well practiced, she would have searched for something containing your body cells and summoned you to appear, but they don't seem to be that concerned with you. Lacking that and the power of a Dacaro, she could only cast a simple, elemental curse. You would either have to live as a wild animal, be locked up in an institution for compulsive nudity, or come to her. You appear to have come to the same conclusion yourself."
"Yeah, well, what else could I do? I mean, I'm starving I don't know how those deer and bears do it. So, anyway, this morning they loaded up this pickup with crates of apples and oranges and stuff like that, and I saw that the guy driving was one of them, so I managed to sneak into the back of the truck, figuring I could eat on them. He got in and drove off up here, so I ate a few apples and had to kind of tag along for the ride. When he stopped for the stop sign back there, just before coming into town here, I jumped out and ran for the woods. I was just trying to figure out what to do next when I saw you two drive up, and I recognized Conan, here, so I figure, what the hell, I'll try for something and I sneaked into the back of the car and that's it." She paused a moment. "You know, it's funny. These flowers are still fresh, too. Should'a dried out yesterday."
"She's telling the truth," Poquah told Joe, turning the car around and heading back toward the trailer.
"Yeah, but what are we going to do with her?"
"I've given her spell a cursory once-over, and I find it very much the Baron's trademark in these things. It's simple, but it would take a great deal of time for me to undo. Conditionals, in particular, usually have bad little traps for those undoing them. No problem, if I had two or three hours to spare, but I do not."
"Hey! You can't leave me stuck like this!" she protested.
"All in good time. Stuck for a while, that's all. Get her into the trailer. I'll drive up and park the car, then work back down to you."
Tiana was the only one awake there when they got in, and was startled to see the self-styled Neo-Primitive Hawaiian priestess and equally fascinated by her story. As for McMahon, she wasted no time in going through much of the fruits and vegetables she could find, although she did not touch meat. Only then was she relaxed enough to look over and really appreciate the hideout in plain sight, and she was impressed.
It took Poquah a good half hour to return, but this was mostly because he wanted no signs around the trailer that it just wasn't parked there until needed. Nobody ever looked twice at trailers like this, which was the beauty of the thing, although lots of cars parked around it would certainly draw immediate attention.
"We will be active tonight," Poquah told them, when at last he felt safe enough to enter, "but we cannot fully spring our trap until tomorrow, almost at the last moment. You will just have to trust that Master Ruddygore has mapped this out and knows what he is doing."
"He has always come through in the end for us," Tiana noted.
"Yeah—after getting us in trouble in the first place," Joe grumped.
"This is the second night of the full moon," the Imir reminded them. "Now that we know how to bypass their security spells, we don't require one of them for you two. We can arrange our own pattern to our advantage."
"Sounds good to me," Joe noted.
"Anybody mind telling me what you're talking about?" Mahalo put in.
"Our part of the operation tonight is to sneak into the Baron's compound, seal off the doorway to Hell he's created, and then do what damage we can to him, his transmission equipment—anything. Getting in is no problem. Getting to the objective will be a terrible problem. Getting out—well, we must depend on others to allow that."
"It's a bigger organization than it looks," Joe explained to the newcomer. "A lot more than just us here." Actually, he had only Poquah's word for that, but he felt pretty certain it was true. "Each of us has a job to do."
Mahalo looked at them and frowned. "Now, wait a minute. You, Spock, are the only guy here who can cure me of this curse, right? And you're going in there tonight?"
"Yes. You can remain here until it is finished. It is safe here, and if anything happens to us, you will be looked after by others."
"And can these others lift this thing?"
"No. But they'll eventually be able to get in touch with someone who can."
"Uh-uh. I'm not going to stay cooped up in here and then have a lot of strange guys have me at their mercy. If you go, I go."
"I'm afraid there is no real provision in the plans for you. Besides, it is likely we will get caught, even if we succeed."
"Then you need me all the more. I know that house. I lived there for six years. There's passages, entrances, and exits in there I bet even the Baron hasn't found yet." She paused a moment. "Hey, look—you guys think you're gonna win, right? I mean, caught or not, if it all comes together, the Baron's finished? The cavalry can march in and rescue the widows and orphans?"
"I believe I understand your question. Yes. The most important thing to do is to get the mission accomplished tonight. That may get us killed, or it may not. If we succeed, the next most important thing is not to get killed, even if it means surrendering. Once our missions are accomplished, it's up to others to see it through."
"Okay. I'll take care of the not-getting-killed part. You take care of the job. Just make sure the cavalry remembers this captive when it comes, huh?" She frowned and stared at Poquah for a moment, then reached out and pushed back his hair on one side. "You got real weird ears. I knew there was something funny about you. You some kind of warrior elf or something?"
"Why, yes, in fact I am. How did you know that?"
"Geez, I'm not ignorant! I read Tolkien twelve times!"
Father O'Grady was sober, and therefore not quite prepared for the assembled crew. He also, it seemed, could not penetrate Marge's illusion as a sober man, but she could drop the illusion for him. He crossed himself when he saw his first Kauri without a haze of booze, but he was certainly convinced. He wore one of his black suits, but he'd removed the white collar and also added lamp black to his face and hands. He had been in hostile territory before and he knew his business.
A little more unsettling for him than seei
ng a Kauri was seeing Mahalo McMahon, undressed as she was. The only thing more unsettling than one Mahalo McMahon was two Mahalo McMahons, which is what they got. It had not been intentional, but at sundown Mahalo, inside the trailer, had been a fraction closer to Tiana than the woman detective Poquah had arranged for. Tiana was not completely put off by the turn of events; McMahon was in superior physical condition, it seemed, in spite of all the junk she smoked. If anything, it was Mahalo who was a bit taken aback by the change, which suddenly gave her a near twin sister. The flowers, of course, had not duplicated, but the curse had, until sunup at least. Tiana was forcibly as naked as Mahalo.
This time, Joe had been luckier. The man he'd duplicated was about his size and build and in fine shape. He was also a black man; Poquah had thought it convenient for a night operation, as he needed no lamp black at all.
Although unclothed, both Mahalo and Tiana could carry guns, and Poquah gave them small but deadly hand guns. McMahon was a bit nervous about it, but she decided to take it anyway. Tiana was just as bad a shot, but felt better with some reassurance. Joe, outfitted in camouflage fatigues, carried a semiautomatic rifle and, in a sheath, the great sword Irving, which hummed softly in anticipation of battle. It had been a long time. Poquah preferred the dagger and the short sword. His job was more to counter or cast spells than to fight; if he needed to, he wanted it to be fast and quiet, with no iron in the weapons.
Gimlet, it seemed, was involved in another operation entirely complementing theirs, and had vanished. Marge would fly lookout for them until they entered, then hang loose to create diversions when needed outside the place. Mahalo was the guide; Joe and Tiana were to guard against physical threats, and Poquah against those of sorcery. Once O'Grady sealed the opening, they would try and find the Baron, if they could, or get out fast, if they could not. A small force of agents paid for the purpose waited, heavily armed and ready, on the opposite side of the holdings, but were not to try anything until they either heard shots from the mansion or got the go-ahead from Marge. If the Baron was upstairs in his bed, and all were fast asleep, he would be beyond Joe's reach, and so there was no sense in waking him, Dacaro, or the followers in the tents if it could be avoided.
Vengeance of the Dancing Gods Page 25