Sins of the Assassin

by Robert Ferrigno

  “Let’s hear it for pilgrim!” said Malcolm, eyes wild, twitching, and the skeleton men roared their approval. Malcolm hoisted the jug, drank until turpentine dripped off his beard.

  Careful.

  Rakkim blinked, watched Malcolm’s lips, but the warning hadn’t come from him.

  Two of the skeleton men dragged a covered wicker basket to the front. Electricity crackled from the basket. No…no…it was buzzing. Hissing.

  Malcolm threw back the lid, reached both hands into the basket…pulled out a couple of snakes. Long snakes he gripped behind the head. Big, fat rattlers. Tall as he was, the snakes reached almost to the floor. He danced around as the snakes shimmied, mouths wide, showing off their lovely hooked fangs. “Book of Mark, verse sixteen. Book of Mark. Verse sixteen.”

  The skeleton men stamped their feet, cheering.

  “Whoever believes,” said Malcolm, “whoever believes and is baptized will be saved.” He shook, rubbed the snakes across his body. “Not just saved today. Not just saved tomorrow. But for all eternity!” He dangled a gray diamondback along his face, the snake lunging at him, a mist of venom blistering Malcolm’s lips. “Mark sixteen says these signs will accompany those who believe. First off, they will cast out demons!”

  “Out!” shouted the skeleton men. “Out!”

  “They will speak in tongues!”

  The skeleton men howled at the ceiling, bayed at the moon visible through the slats.

  “If they drink any deadly poison, it will not hurt them!” said Malcolm as the snakes followed his own undulating movements. “It will not hurt them!”

  One of the skeletons hoisted the jug of turpentine, finished it off.

  Malcolm released the snakes now and they scuttled across the floor. He reached into the basket and pulled out another handful, large ones and small ones, cottonmouths and shiny copperheads. “And those who believe…they will have the power to pick up serpents with their bare hands.” He seemed to have grown, his head almost touching the roof as he draped the snakes across his shoulders, arms thrown wide as they slithered across him, curled around his neck and down his back…and left him untouched.

  Rakkim stared at Malcolm as the snakes wriggled past him into the crowd. The taste of turpentine turned his stomach, made his joints ache.

  Malcolm reached into the basket, pulled out an enormous timber rattler, six feet long, a beautiful golden brown viper with black bands and huge golden eyes. Malcolm opened his mouth…and the snake entered him slowly, poked its head along his tongue and pulled slowly back. Tears ran down Malcolm’s cheeks at he turned to Rakkim. He held out the snake.

  Rakkim didn’t move. The sound of the skeleton men jabbering bounced off the walls, a worse sound than the snakes rattling their warnings.

  “The believers shall have the power to pick up serpents…and they shall not be harmed,” said Malcolm, offering the snake to him. “They shall not be harmed, pilgrim.”

  His hand trembling, Rakkim took the rattler. The snake wrapped around his arm, squeezed gently.

  Malcolm swayed, eyes half closed as the music boomed and the rattlesnakes hissed.

  The walls moved in time with the music and it looked to Rakkim as if he had been mistaken—the church was not made of sticks and branches, but of snakes, and the serpents were coming alive now, welcoming their brethren. The timber rattler tightened around him and Rakkim looked into its eyes, and they were Malcolm’s eyes, pulling him closer…closer.

  The rattler struck quickly, buried its fangs in Rakkim’s upper arm, and he pulled it off him, threw it hard against the floor.

  Malcolm nodded.

  Dumbass.

  Rakkim didn’t bother looking. Too busy now tearing at his arm as the fire crawled through him. Too busy…too late. He sat down on the floor as Malcolm went back to the basket for more snakes. The more the merrier. The venom turned from fire to ice. His teeth chattered, his fingers already going numb.

  You just going to sit there and die? It was one of the skeleton men talking.

  “Leave me alone,” said Rakkim.

  The skeleton man shimmied off his costume. Light filtered through the roof. A slender man with a cocky grin. It was Darwin.

  “You’re dead,” said Rakkim. “I killed you.”

  I was playing with you and you got lucky. That’ll teach me a lesson.

  “I had an angel…my guardian angel,” said Rakkim.

  I hate being dead.

  The other skeleton men were throwing snakes at each other, talking in tongues, all of it happening in slow motion; Rakkim could actually see the snakes’ scales shift in midair. Malcolm glanced over at him but didn’t get any closer.

  Pay attention. I’m talking at you.

  “What do you want?”

  I want to be alive.

  “I’d just kill you again.”

  Darwin smiled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Can’t you tell? You would have never said something like that before. Now you’re a big, brave killer. Seeing you like this…it’s almost like being alive.

  Rakkim watched the timber rattler that had bit him approach. Then stop, head flicking from side to side. Watched it retreat.

  You know what I’m talking about, don’t pretend you don’t. You should be grateful.

  Rakkim waved him away, felt himself drifting. “Go away. I got no time for ghosts.”

  Ghost? Oh, I’m a lot more than that. Ask Sarah.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Do I seem different to you? He mimicked Rakkim’s voice perfectly. One of the last conversations he and Sarah had had, the two of them in bed, right after making love. You’re more playful lately, Darwin said, imitating Sarah now. More fun. Not so serious. I like that.

  Rakkim stared at him.

  God, she’s a hot bitch. What I wouldn’t give to ramrod her all by myself. I’d teach her some tricks. If I had known how tasty she was, I’d have fought my way back sooner.

  Rakkim tried to get to his feet. Sat back down.

  Don’t tire yourself out. Darwin moved closer. You don’t look so good.

  Rakkim thought of Sarah…their renewed passion the last few months. “You’re not really here.”

  You know better than that. You’ve sensed me before now. The thoughts you’ve had, the things you’ve done…You had to have known. I give you more credit than that.

  “You don’t give anything. If you’re here…if you’re here it’s only because even the worms couldn’t stomach you.”

  Slow your heart down. You need time to metabolize the venom. Slower.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  You need something. Pathetic. Darwin shook his head. I still can’t believe you killed me. It’s embarrassing.

  It was Darwin. No mistaking that assassin smile and those cold eyes. He looked better the last time Rakkim had seen him, mouth wide, Rakkim’s blade driven deep into that grin.

  What’s so funny?

  “You.” Rakkim kept remembering things. Odd sensations over the last year…the unfamiliar memories. They were getting stronger too. “I killed two men in Seattle. Bodyguards for a Black Robe. I…I’m not sure how I did it. Was that you?”

  Darwin took a bow.

  Rakkim tried to move his fingers. A little better now. “Killing the Texas Rangers…going out of my way to do it. Was that you too?”

  Me? Darwin laughed. It sounded like wasps buzzing. No, that was all you. Surprised me too. Made me a little proud, I have to admit. All that blood. Kind of intoxicating, isn’t it?

  “I’m not like you.”

  Darwin winked at him. Don’t worry. You’re getting there. And those things you told Crews, wanting to burn the whole shithouse down…pure poetry.

  “Are you…are you in my head all the time?”

  Every minute.

  Rakkim watched him. “Liar.”

  Darwin shrugged. Okay. It takes a lot of work. Not easy being dead. You’ll find out.

  “Dead’s w
here you belong.” Rakkim tried to stand up. Almost made it this time.

  You want some advice?

  “No.”

  Be careful of that redheaded son of a bitch.

  Rakkim moved closer. “You know about Gravenholtz?”

  I know more about him than you do. General Kidd never told Redbeard, but the Fedayeen lost over twenty men that one summer.

  “And then it stopped.”

  It stopped because I took care of it. About ten years ago, some honcho in the Belt set up a facility turning out Fedayeen killers—hardcore mercenaries with a graphite-composite second skin under their own. Jap jobs, they called ’em, after the gook scientist developed it. Very expensive, but better than body armor. The early models took heavy casualties, but that scientist kept making improvements, changing the recipe. Just a matter of time till he got the batch just right. So Kidd sent me into the Belt. Redbeard didn’t know anything about it. Darwin grinned at the memory. I went through the facility like a fox through a henhouse. Killed twenty-seven in postop. Twice that many still in transition. I’m not even counting the guards. Oh, the fun I had. You’re probably the only one who could really appreciate what I did.

  Rakkim rubbed his eyes. Darwin was hazy now. He could almost see through him.

  Darwin licked his lips. You should have seen them, lying in bed, bandaged up from stem to stern, just watching me as I moved in, their eyes getting bigger and bigger. Near the end, I started getting really creative. Professional courtesy. Then I killed the gook scientist and his staff. Destroyed all the records, all the research. Up until I met you, I considered it the highlight of my career.

  “You didn’t get Gravenholtz.”

  Darwin’s smile flickered. His lips moved but no sound came out.

  Rakkim stood up. “What?”

  …left something for you to do. Why should I have all the fun? Darwin faded.

  Malcolm stepped right through Darwin as though he were made of smoke. “Pilgrim.” Sweat poured down his face, streaked through the grime. He grabbed Rakkim’s hand, traced the brand in his palm with a fingernail. “Didn’t I tell you—those who believe, they shall handle snakes with their bare hands and not be hurt? Didn’t I say it?”

  Rakkim saw men slumped over chairs while others gathered up the last of the snakes. Four of the skeleton men were being carried out.

  Malcolm followed Rakkim’s gaze. “Not everybody has the faith needed.”

  “I’m not feeling too good myself.”

  “Shit, pilgrim, I never heard anybody talk in tongues like that after getting snakebit. You were going a mile a minute, just flowing, using these two different voices. Wasn’t sure at first if you’s possessed by an angel or a devil, but you survived, shrugged off that poison like it was a touch of bad pork. You’re no Prince of Lies. You’re saved to the bone, just like me.” Malcolm leaned closer, smiling like Christmas. “Once we get our hands on what’s in that mountain, you and me, we’re going to bathe the world in blood.”

  For an instant, Rakkim thought he heard Darwin laughing.

  Chapter 33

  Baby touched the remote and the front door clicked open.

  Gravenholtz walked in, stood in the hallway, dripping. “Colonel?”

  “In here, Lester.”

  Gravenholtz shrugged off his wet jacket, shook out his short hair. Same, exact orange-color hair as the kitty cat she had when she was a girl, the one that used to lick milk out of her belly button until her mother caught her.

  “Colonel?”

  Baby beckoned to him from the bed, lifted one leg slightly, the wedding dress rustling around her bare thigh. “You just missed him, Lester.”

  Gravenholtz looked around. Checked the sentry through the security window. “Baby, this isn’t funny.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Gravenholtz laid an info chip on the coffee table. “Here’s my daily report. Give it to the Colonel when he gets back.”

  “The Colonel’s not coming home for a couple hours at least.” She stretched, her breasts falling free. “New sentries come on in about ten minutes, so you can slip out the back whenever you want, and they’ll have no idea how long you been here.”

  Gravenholtz couldn’t take his eyes off her. Water trickled from his wet hair, hung off his earlobes like pearl earrings.

  “Why don’t you take off those wet things before you catch your death,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Gravenholtz glanced out the window, then back at her. “Baby…I can’t.”

  “You say that every time.” She slowly, slowly rolled her right nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “But, Lester…you always can.”

  “Sorry to bother you at this time of night, Colonel,” said Moseby, “but you told me to call if I found—”

  “I’m glad you did, Mr. Moseby. No apology needed.” The Colonel waved his aide back to the main tunnel, slipped through the narrow opening into the secondary shaft. Moseby was right behind him. “So, what did you find?”

  “I’d rather show you, Colonel.”

  The Colonel let Moseby take the lead, intrigued by the man’s enthusiasm. He shivered in his damp clothes as they walked on, the lights placed at intervals along the tunnels doing little to alleviate the gloom. Couldn’t blame Baby for not wanting to leave their bed and tramp around down here. Couldn’t blame her for not wanting him to leave either. He smiled at the memory of her in that wedding dress…He rubbed the cramp in his hip. She made him feel twenty years younger, thirty years, but that wasn’t the same as being twenty years younger. Some nights she damn near wore him out.

  “The crews made great progress, as you can see,” said Moseby. “You should be proud of them, sir.”

  “Yes…very nice work,” said the Colonel, not sure what Moseby was referring to.

  Moseby tapped a portion of the wall. “This is where the cave-in was. The men removed all the small rocks and broke down the big ones with picks and chisels. Very delicate work. Didn’t want to use explosives or power drills that might collapse the whole structure.”

  The Colonel glanced up. Shivered as he increased his pace to keep up with Moseby. He didn’t like being reminded how deep in the earth they were. How easily the whole mountain could come down on their heads.

  They walked on through light and darkness, the electric bulbs spaced too far out for the Colonel’s preference. The floor tilted lower, made a sharp turn to the left. The tunnel was wider now, but it didn’t help. The Colonel glanced back, kept going, the only sound the echo of their breathing.

  “Not much farther, Colonel,” said Moseby, his face in shadow.

  “No problem.” The temperature seemed to be dropping by the moment, and though the Colonel shivered, Moseby seemed comfortable in a light sweater. Another sharp turn and the Colonel stopped. Mouth open.

  “I know,” said Moseby. “I felt the same way myself when I first saw it.”

  The colonel looked out on a vast cavern, at the center an underground lake at least a hundred yards across, flat as black glass. Moseby had placed spotlights around the perimeter of the lake, but their beams barely illuminated the inky water. No way to tell how high the cavern was—he couldn’t see the top of it, just the rough, rounded outline. “I…I had no idea it was going to be this big.”

  “No way to know how deep it is—not yet, anyway,” said Moseby. “I just found it a few hours ago. You’re the only other person who’s seen it.”

  The Colonel took a hesitant step forward. “It’s…it’s like a new world, isn’t it?”

  “You’re more of a romantic than I am, Colonel. It’s thirty-five degrees, I know that much.”

  “You have equipment for that?”

  “I’ve got everything I need.”

  “How soon can you get started?” The Colonel’s raised voice echoed back and forth across the cavern, and he shivered again, pushed his hands into his pockets. “You’ll need rest, of course,” he said, voice lowered, “but obviously, time is—”

  �
��There’s something else, Colonel.” Moseby reached into his pocket, handed him a small blue enamel pin. “I found this at the waterline, half hidden in the rocks.”

  The Colonel turned it over. The pin had an eagle etched in gold inscribed on it. He had never seen anything like it.

  “I found other things too…a valve cut from an inflatable boat, probably sunk after they didn’t need it anymore…batteries. They were in a real hurry—”

  “Who can blame them? What’s your point?”

  “Sir, you told me I was looking for a box containing historical treasures. The Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Emancipation Proclamation. Safely packed away in nitrogen containers, protected by the cold…that’s what you said.”

  “That’s correct, Mr. Moseby.”

  “You said they had been taken out of the National Archives during the troubles, taken out months before the atomic attack on D.C. by the federal police, moved here for safekeeping and facsimiles substituted for the originals.”

  “Mr. Moseby, I don’t like your tone.”

  Moseby turned, and the light glared off his black skin…the same color as the lake, his eyes just as cold. “Colonel, with all due respect, I don’t like being lied to.”

  They faced each other in that underground cavern, and the Colonel felt the enormous weight of the earth bearing down upon him, grinding him to dust. He could hardly breathe. Could not even imagine the skill and strength it would take to slip into those icy waters and believe that he would ever come out again. He waited, not trusting himself to be able to lie his way out of it. Angry at himself for feeling the need to. “So…so you find a little blue pin and dare to accuse—”

  “It’s not a pin, sir, it’s a badge, and it’s not FBI, it’s military.”

  The Colonel tossed the badge or whatever it was back to him. “Obviously, documents of such national importance…invaluable pieces of history…” One of the searchlights flickered, went out, and he fought to control his panic. “The FBI must have asked for military support—”