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Atrozity The Journals of Trevor Black (#3) : Day Forty-Four
Atrozity The Journals of Trevor Black (#3) : Day Forty-Four
The new millennium? Whatever, man. They said that it would bring peace. It
did all right. But at what price … the price of our sanity under the guise of
some strange little document the New Templaric regime held to be sacred
that proclaimed the rights of man. … That guy, what’s his name? Austin
Hymentheta? Yeah, I trusted him. … I trusted them all. I bought the lie and
now I sit under the edict of slave in a stew of slaves. … Man, I did my Will
and they said I couldn’t have understood my Will. I followed my heart and
they said I didn’t have one to follow. I tortured them all and they have put
me here to torture myself. … How many thwarted my Will and died for it?
Good question. One hundred and eleven in all, I think. I began to lose track
after ninety-three. … It’s all such a blur.
DAY FORTY-FOUR
Dawn came early that morning. The blood red sun that struck the
heart of the city was nothing compared to the bloodshot eyes of the door
attendant or the stain that covered the floor surrounding what was left of his
corpse. The flash of the cameras lit the darkened alcove and the grotesque
image of the body, if it could actually be called that now, was thrust into
Trevor’s rum-soaked brain cells. The smell of urine and feces permeated the
air. It was obvious the man had been severely tortured and mutilated before
his departure from this plane of existence. The number “88” had been written
in the man’s blood – was it really his blood? – on the wall above his crushed
head. A copy of Liber OZ, this regime’s sacred “bill of rights,” had been left
nailed to the wall; this was the city’s Areopagus after all.
“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. What does this
make it, Black?” the question came from behind him. He did not need to turn
around to know the voice.
Apparently he did his Will, thought Trevor. “Love is the law, love
under will, your Grace,” Trevor responded. “I think the wall speaks volumes,”
he continued as he turned to face the woman who now stood before him with
her hands in her pockets. “But this would make it number eighty-eight,” he
quickly added after seeing her face.
The Grand Inquisitor Commander was a forbidding woman; tall,
graceless, and above all looked like an overturned pear. He loathed how she
moved over each investigation site like a slug, leaving trails of her ego for
others to slip over in their haste to remove themselves from her presence. It
had not taken long for the Inquisitor and Trevor to get off on the wrong foot.
After murder number six, she had decided that he was more interested in
catching a suspect than kissing ass to the regime, which meant kissing ass to
her. But he played their game so long as he could pursue his leads to the killer
who had eluded him and had the decisive advantage of knowing his every
whereabouts. The early morning phone calls were only the start of his
problems.
“Yes, your Grace. Just like the rest.” Trevor hated this line of
questioning, but he had grown so accustomed to it every time this woman
walked in the room that it was almost to the point of an automatic response. “I
got the call at home around eight. No name. Not long enough for a trace. He
must have bounced it off enough satellites to make a pool shark envious. Oh
yeah, and a only location given, nothing more.”
“Yes, your Grace. ‘Pendragon’ with nothing else. At least this guy
hasn’t started a rash of copycats.” Trevor looked back at the paper on the wall.
The signature was scrawled with abandon of legibility. But it was obviously the
name was the same as all those left at the other sites.
“Love is the law…” She was gone. He aborted his salutation to her
mid-sentence.
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He did not mind the formalities, but they had already begun to
make him sick at the commonality with which they were now used. Everything
under the New Templaric regime had taken larger steps. What was once a
small organization of misfits guided by the writings of a self-proclaimed
prophet with an overblown ego had become the world’s largest contender to
the political machine that held the reigns of the Newest World Order. The
New Templaric already controlled the majority of seats in this country’s
government. It had come to power in the early days of the new millennium
after the meltdown of the Plebeian Democrats and their failed attempt at
institutionalized global democracy.
The ‘OZ Killer’ was beginning to annoy him. While his office
continued to maintain that there had been no connection in each of the
victims, Trevor knew what many people did not. The copies of Liber OZ that
had been left at each scene had the final ‘right’ circled: “Man has the right to
kill those who would thwart these rights.” There had to be a connection
between the victims and the killer. What that connection might be was still
occulted from Trevor’s investigation. Had these people somehow thwarted the
killer’s rights? What could they have possibly done to warrant such brutal
ends to their lives?
Trevor left the murder site and headed to his office across town.
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were organized and capable. The apparent incompetence, copyright battles,
and miserable business practices had all been an intentional sham. They were
an army, a force that marched right into the full view of humanity and
wrenched control from every major political and religious party and
organization in the country. In just six days, the New Templaric turned a
democracy into a theocracy, and society mutated to accept it without
complaint. No one even whimpered at the overwhelming coup de grâce that
had taken place. One country first, the world next.
“All right. All right.” He waved his hand out the window in a kind of
apology that he knew would not be appreciated; just being a Star did not keep
one from being an asshole of course.
The driver of the truck pressed the horn again as Trevor began to
move through the intersection. The sound of more horns and the screeching
of tires assaulted his ears and he looked up to see that the light was still red on
his side. The cross traffic was aimed right for him. In a sense of sudden shock,
he slammed his foot down on the accelerator and sped across the intersection
to the other side where he stopped and looked back into his mirror.
There he was. He knew it. The knot in his stomach told him that the
shadow in the cab of the truck, which was still on the other side of the
intersection, was the ‘OZ Killer.’ Then his suspicion was confirmed. A hand
rose up. An open hand with the thumb extended and then pressed against the
shadowy forehead. The bastard, thought Trevor.
The figure bent down into the seat beside him. Then Trevor saw
that a piece of white paper was being stuck onto the inside of the truck’s
windshield. A sudden realization pierced him as he recognized the paper even
from across the street.
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Three and one-half hours later, Trevor was sitting in the
Commandery. His debriefing had not been so brief. He had already told his
story several times and was beginning to weary of it. He now wondered if this
is how those whom he interrogated felt after he was done with them. The
Grand Inquisitor Commander had been insistent that he try to remember
every detail of his experience. He did.
“Yes,” she said in such a manner that made him feel as if he was
missing something.
“Why didn’t I get a call on any of these like all the rest?”
“I can’t answer that one, Black. I can tell you that the others were
found about the time you called in your report on the truck driver. They were
in the same building that we were in this morning. Apparently, he was killing
them right above us as we picked up the pieces of that particular handiwork.”
“At the same time?” Trevor could not believe that this monster
would be so bold as to be killing while the Order of Kadosch was in the same
ten-mile radius, and much less in the same building.
He shook his head. He did not want to hear the details. They were
sure to be in the report that was probably already on his desk. He guessed that
the pattern was the same as all the others including the truck driver. Another
dead, mutilated body and a copy of Liber OZ with the last ‘right’ circled in
blood. There had to be a connection somehow, but Trevor had so far not been
able to ascertain what it might be.
“Black,” he spoke into the device as if it had bit him. “Do what thou
wilt shall be the whole of the Law.”
“Listen carefully. This will not be like the other calls I have made to
you.” The voice was the same calm voice that reminded him of a deep freeze.
“You have another killing to be accountable for, but this time she isn’t dead
yet. She will be the last, but I have taken her now rather than wait.”
Trevor began to interrupt but never made more than a sound when
he was cut off again.
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“Don’t,” hissed the voice. “Just listen. You will learn soon enough
who she is, and you will realize that I am not playing games here. I am doing
what I know my Will is for this lifetime. Deny me this and you deny me the
rights that you yourself possess.”
“To what do we owe the honor, your Holiness?” It was the Grand
Inquisitor Commander who spoke meekly from behind this man.
“This.”
The Caliph produced a paper from his coat and handed it to Trevor.
It was a copy of Liber OZ with a picture attached. Trevor recognized the girl in
the picture and it took his breath away.
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begun. Would she be ninety-three or something much further down the line.
How many more would die before he killed her? What would he do to her and
where would he keep her?
Just who, in the Holy Name of Babalon, is this little fuck, thought
Trevor.
Trevor looked around and saw that Hymentheta was in a side room
with the Inquisitor and having a discussion about what only the Gods knew.
He decided that he did not really want to hear anymore about the girl. He was
not insensitive, but he needed to sit and go over the files for the four murders
of that morning. He also wanted to take a look over the initial report for the
truck driver. He needed to catch his breath before he could continue. It
seemed that Pendragon had decided that he played a vital role in this drama.
He needed to rest before the curtain rose on the next act.
The time arrived quickly it seemed, and the bells outside the
Commandery rang out to signal the Evening Resh. Trevor stood and turned to
face north and, raising his hand, began to intone the adoration.
“Hail unto thee who art Tum in Thy setting, …” he said adding his
voice to the others in the room. He glanced down at the photographs on his
desk.
“… even unto Thee who art Tum in Thy joy, who travellest over …“
He kept looking at the photograph of the truck driver. The face was
mutilated and carved beyond recognition. It resembled something that had
been run through a trash compactor and then someone had attempted to
inflate it.
“… Down-going of the …”
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them up as well. One after another, Trevor tacked up the photographs of all
the dead victims – ninety-two in all.
The Evening Resh had been over for a while now and as Trevor
turned to fetch a marker in order to highlight his find, he was startled to find
several of the Kadosch investigators standing in a group observing his work on
the wall.
“I’m not sure yet,” Trevor began. “But there is an obvious connection
between the rings and the murders. Or at least I think there is. Since the
original Order is all but defunct now, there is no reason for every man and
every woman to be a member. We are all part of a larger movement now.
Those that choose to stay with the Order, do so for various reasons. Since that
still makes up less than one percent of our current population, there has to be
a connection between these members …”
His voice trailed off in thought and he looked down at his ring
again. Suddenly he turned around to face the photographs.
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Trevor paused for just a moment and then, pointing at an
investigator that was just paralyzed in shock before him, said, “And you, get
me a cup of coffee. Now!”
His digicell vibrated against his hip again and he answered it.
“Love is the law, love under will,” replied the sweet voice on the
other end.
“Don’t be late, lover. I will be there in twenty minutes,” was her only
comment and the line went dead.
Great, he thought. Just great. Now I’ve blown it again. Looking down
at his desk, he saw lilies in the vase there. I hope she likes lilies. Never a better
time to find out than the present.
Trevor pilled the flowers out of the vase and wrapped them up in a
newspaper that he picked up from the desk next to his. He pulled on his gun,
grabbed his coat, and headed out the door. Looking back over his shoulder at
the wall of death he had created, he wondered if tonight would be as bloody as
the last forty-three nights or if he might be able to pass the night in peace with
his Beloved for once since this all began.
He drove across town and parked his car in the lot next to the
restaurant. There was a light drizzle in the air now that had just blown up over
the past hour or so. Trevor pulled his coat a little tighter around his neck and
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walked toward the front of the place. There was a sound to his right and he
stopped to look for the source of the noise. All that he saw was the mist
covered shadows that cowered over the huge trash dumpsters along the side of
the building. A window in a nearby apartment was flapping open in the wind
that seemed to be picking up as well. He shook his head and continued to the
door.
Trevor ordered a rum and coke and watched out the plate glass
window as the weather began to pick itself up off the ground and throw its
weight around in the streets. He could see pieces of trash being tossed around.
A woman walked by the window and her hair flew out in front of her seeming
to lead her way. Trevor thought for just a moment that it might be Rebecca,
but she made a quick glance into the restaurant and he saw his mistake.
“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law, baby.”
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“Trevor Kenneth Black, you better not be thinking about work right
now. You promised me a nice dinner tonight.” Her words had a loving sound
in the rebuke. Her face was in a pout in that shy little girl wants a piece of
candy kind of way. She was just a lovely creature in her heart and in her body.
She was definitely the best in breast and brain of any of those he had shacked
up with in his early twenties.
“You know that you are always on my mind,” Trevor tried to sound
convincing but he knew that she could see right through him. She knew that
this case was getting the better of him and that it was as close to depressing
him as anything ever did. “It’s just that things started to click today at the
office.”
“You still wearing my Order ring,” she asked him with a concerned
look. “If this is random killings of Order members, would that make you or me
the target of this guy’s rage?”
“That’s a good question, but I don’t think these killings are random.
I think they are related somehow all back to him.” He paused. “Rebecca, you
are in the Order’s Lodge fairly regularly. Tell me something. I seem to recall
something that in the old days certain members had to have so many people
to sponsor them or something like that. I could have sworn it was some degree
in that Man of Earth series.”
She interrupted him. “Wait. There was a degree in the Lover grade
that required a lot of people to advance. Had to have so many people join the
Order to get to your next degree. What was that degree?” Rebecca put her
hand to her mouth and made a funny look that meant she was really trying
hard to pull something out of the back of her head.
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Trevor nodded.
They sat there in silence for a moment just looking at each other in
the horrible realization that they were helpless to do anything without enough
clues to lead them to the next victim. Trevor obviously needed more to go on
than a ring, an obsolete degree, and an understanding of the goal of the killer.
He needed a direction, a connection between all the victims and their stalker,
and most of all he needed a motive.
The silence was broken by Heidrick who brought Trevor his second
rum and coke and asked if they would like to order dinner.
They sat and enjoyed the drinks and the décor of Aleister’s Place for
another hour before deciding to leave. Trevor helped Rebecca back into her
coat. They both had noticed that the mist had turned into rain, and the wind
was a co-conspirator in the struggle for domination in the streets. Heidrick
scanned the implanted microchip in the back of Trevor’s hand to pay for the
meal, and the couple stepped out into the street and began to head toward the
parking lot.
He was lost in this thought and feeling when he felt Rebecca stiffen
up and heard a small gasp escape her lips. He looked up. The parking lot was
littered with paper. His car, her car, and the walls of the surrounding buildings
were plastered with paper. He bent down and picked up one that had blown
against his leg. It was a copy of Liber OZ. No blood, no number, no name. Just
the document itself.
He released his hold on her and reached for his gun. Trevor looked
around the lot and saw nothing clearly through the rain. He gave her a slight
push in the direction of his car and they ran together across the parking lot to
it. Clearing away some of the papers from the window he looked inside his car
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and saw that it was empty. He unlocked his car and let Rebecca climb inside.
Shutting the door, he went to the other side and got in the car.
Rebecca wondered aloud, “Is there anyone that is back from the
Reassignment Isle that you put there that would be capable of doing
something like this?”
“I’ve never even seen anyone come back from the Isle capable of
committing another crime, much less something as brutal as these.”
He started the car and turned on the windshield wipers to clear the
rain and paper from his view. The rain glazed the glass in waves of water. The
effect was eerie under the circumstances. He threw the car into gear and began
to pull out of the parking lot.
“Let’s go,” he said. “I want to show you some things at the office
before we go home.”
She paused for a moment as she walked into his office and saw his
wall of death. He has already told her about it, but to actually see it was a bit
unnerving to her. He had spoken a lot of his investigation of the ‘OZ Killer,’
but she had never seen any of his work before this. She walked over to the wall
and began to look at the photographs. They were horrendous. Bodies
mutilated and torn, shot and decapitated, beaten and stabbed.
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Rebecca cried out suddenly as she reached the end of the wall.
Trevor looked up from his desk and quickly made his way to her side.
“This.” She pointed to the family that had been murdered earlier in
the morning. “This is Kristin’s family. That’s Kristin, Dave, and Joey.” She
began to cry. “Joey wasn’t much older than my nephew. He was just a baby.”
Her tears kept her from finishing her thought, and she did not need to. Trevor
understood.
He held her and then moved her to his desk. Sitting her down, he
handed her a tissue and waited for her to calm down just enough to talk with
her more.
“I know. I know,” she said between sobs. She was calming down a
little from the shock. “But it was just tough to see that picture like that. I
mean, it’s not like we were close, but the boys played together at the Lodge. I
knew them at least well enough to think of them as friends.”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here and go home. I shouldn’t have
brought you here in the first place. I thought maybe you would see something
in the evidence that I missed. I didn’t have a clue that you would know one of
the victims. Come on, baby.”
He took her hand and she rose to follow him back out of his office.
The short drive to his apartment was silent except for the roaring
sound of the rain on the roof of the car. Rebecca was still obviously unnerved
from the shock of seeing her Lodge mates dead, so brutally murdered in their
own home. Trevor pulled the car into his parking slot and got out. Rebecca
followed him up the stairs and into the apartment.
Once inside, Trevor locked the door and pulled off his coat. Turning
back around, he saw Rebecca disappear into the bathroom; her coat was
already slung over the couch. He went into the bedroom and turned down the
bed. It was obvious that both of them had lost interest in sex, but needed to be
near each other.
“Trevor?”
“Yeah?”
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“Catch this son of a bitch. You hear me? Catch him.”
“I will, baby.”
The rain poured down hard against the windows of the apartment.
Lightning flashed and cast shadows across the room that danced in obscene
manipulations of reflection. As both of them fell into the slumber of the dead,
the storm outside raged war against the building and those outside of it.
In a flash that brilliantly cast the sky almost into day, a face might
have been seen at the window of Trevor’s bedroom. Watching, staring at the
couple, waiting to see movement, studying his prey as carefully as a reptile
watches for a meal.
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