A hot shower and a change of clothes brought her back to life. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she toyed with the idea of calling Taine. Reluctantly, she decided against it. No reason to bother him now. Once she got Tim, the two of them could stop in to see the detective.

  Janet shook her head. In spite of all her mental precautions and warnings, she never changed. Here she was, head over heels in love with a man she knew nothing about. Taine might be married to five different women and have fourteen children. Or be on the run from the law for obsessive kleptomania. Not that it mattered very much. Her heart still ruled her mind. She trusted her emotions, however foolish that might be. She loved Taine and he loved her. That was enough.

  The doorbell rang, breaking into her thoughts. Wondering who it was, she left her room and hurried over to the stairs. Looking down, she saw Martha had already answered the door. It was only the mailman.

  Standing there, staring at the two figures, a weird sense of deja vu swept over her. It was her dream all over again. She was ten years old, listening to her father speak with the policeman. The same agony twisted his face as he repeated those terrible words, "A hundred daggers."

  He stood there frozen for a second, unable to move. She remembered him slowly raising one hand to his face, brushing away the tears. As he did so, she caught a glimpse of an odd ring on one of his fingers. The hall light bounced off the metal, causing it to shine. Ten-year-old Janet saw the design, but it was Janet nineteen years later who recognized the pattern. It was the seal of the Black Lodge.

  She reeled in shock and surprise. All of the blood in her body rushed to her head. She felt terribly weak, terribly afraid. Her legs collapsed beneath her like rubber bands. With a low moan, she desperately clutched the stairway railing for support. Below, Martha turned from the mailman. "Are you all right, miss?" she called up to the second floor, as if sensing Janet's distress.

  Unable to speak, Janet managed a mute nod. After all these years, she knew the truth. That was why the symbol of the Order looked so familiar. She had never seen it in a textbook. Instead, her father had once worn a ring identical to the one sported by Roger. Leo Packard belonged to the Black Lodge.

  Now she understood why Taine hesitated telling her any secrets about the Lodge. He obviously suspected her father of belonging to the Order. It made perfect sense. Only naive little Janet never guessed the truth.

  The Black Lodge recruited its members from the rich and powerful. Not many men were wealthier than Leo. Every bit of information fit together in a damnable pattern. Even his business dealings with Harmon Sangmeister took on a new, more sinister significance.

  Shaking off the effects of her near collapse, Janet rushed back to her room. She couldn't afford any weakness now. All of her life she had trusted her father, relied on him, depended on him. What took place nearly twenty years ago might not have any bearing on the events this week. However, she dared not depend on it.

  Martha and Bruno worked for Leo. That fact alone branded them in her eyes. She could no longer trust either of them. Desperately, she wondered what their relationship was with the Mystic Order of Antioch? Janet remembered how much Mrs. Kearny feared Bruno. Could the teacher have sensed something that Janet never realized? It seemed impossible. The chauffeur treated Timtny like his own son. Yet Bruno also served her father. She feared the worst.

  School let out in twenty minutes. That gave her just enough time to get there and take Tim with her. This latest revelation called for extreme action. Better to anticipate the worst than hope for the best.

  Grabbing her purse, she hurried out into the hallway. She could hear Martha puttering about in the parlor. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Janet quickly descended the stairs to the front foyer. Once through the main door, she ran for her car. Every second counted. Gunning the motor, she sent the BMW roaring into the street.

  Friday afternoon traffic crawled along at its usual intolerable pace. From time to time, Janet glanced nervously at the clock on the dashboard. Today, she would make it just in time. With a little luck, she might even arrive a few minutes early.

  Driving, she mentally reviewed Leo's actions of the past few days. Nothing he said or did indicated he maintained any ties with the Black Lodge. If anything, his obsessive hatred of Roger placed him squarely against the Order. She shook her head in bewilderment. This whole thing bordered on lunacy. Did she really suspect her own father of secretly plotting with her psychopathic ex-husband against her son?

  A few hours ago, she would have dismissed the entire notion as absolute madness. Now she wavered between the two possibilities. Leo always disappeared on the anniversary of Ralph's death. He never returned until the next morning. Not once in all those years had he ever offered any explanation of where he spent those hours.

  Her conversation with Taine made it quite clear that the Black Lodge met this evening. Was Leo planning to attend that gathering? Was Roger? And where did Tim fit in? A vague reference to the Black Mass flickered through her thoughts. Unmentionable horrors suddenly seemed all too real. Janet jammed her foot down on the gas pedal. She had to get to the school before Bruno.

  She arrived at Sullivan Preparatory School at four minutes before the hour. As usual the school parking lot was already filled. However, there were a number of spots on the street. Janet steered her car into one less than a hundred feet from the entrance. Looking around, she spotted her father's Rolls Royce in the middle of the lot. Bruno rested against one door, carefully cleaning his nails. No matter. Timmy was going with her.

  Totally without warning, a man's hand reached through the open car window and grabbed her by the back of the neck. Pain arched down her spine as bony fingers dug deep into her skin. Something cold and metallic pressed hard against her windpipe.

  "It's a knife, Janet dear," whispered a voice in her ear. "Make one move and I'll cut your throat."

  Waves of panic swept through her. "Roger," she managed to choke out. The steel blade served as a frighteningly efficient gag.

  "You remember me," her ex-husband said sarcastically. "What a surprise. Keep both hands on the steering wheel where I can see them. Try something and things will get real messy. I'd hate to get blood all over this nice leather interior."

  The grip on her neck never slackened. "How nice to see you again," Roger continued, almost cheerfully. "I suspected you might show up today. So I kept a close eye on the street. My friends will take care of Bruno. He won't cause any trouble. We can watch all the action from right here."

  Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see him resting casually against the side of her car. To anyone else, Roger must appear to be a friend holding a casual conversation with the person inside the auto. She was totally helpless.

  He shifted the knife slightly, nicking her soft skin. Warm drops of blood trickled across her neck. "Don't make me kill you, Janet," he said, sounding slightly nervous. "I will if I have to. Be a good girl and I'll let you go free."

  His voice cracked with emotion."I want to destroy you. I want to hurt you the way you hurt me. This way, you'll suffer for a long time. I know how much you love that little brat. Killing you wouldn't be half as much fun as knowing you're alive and suffering."

  "Tim's your son, too," she gasped out, feeling the bite of the knife. "Please don't harm him."

  "Sorry, dear, but I have no choice in the matter. My Master requires our son for a certain ritual tonight. My whole future depends on me delivering Tim to that ceremony. Ah, isn't that the school bell?" He laughed. "Watch closely now. Lights, camera, action."

  Janet saw it all happen. Dozens of children came running out the side door of the school. Bruno started forward, scanning the crowd for Tim. As if by accident, a young man crossed his path, stumbling as he did so. Instinctively, the bodyguard reached out to help steady the stranger. He never even saw the two other young men who circled in from behind.

  For the barest instant, bright metal flashed in the sunlight. Bruno died without a struggle. Unnoticed by anyone, he sagged lifelessly into the arms of his two attackers. Grabbing the body under the arms, the killers hustled the corpse back to the Rolls. He disappeared into the backseat of the car. Tears filled Janet's eyes. Poor Bruno deserved better.

  Meanwhile, the man who stumbled was busily talking to Tim. He showed the boy a piece of paper and pointed to a car parked close by. Janet wanted to scream. She could see her son nodding in agreement. Smiling, holding hands, Tim accompanied the killer to the auto. Seconds later, the kidnappers were gone.

  "Amazing how easy it is to fool little kids," said Roger, as she watched the other car drive off. "Especially innocent ones like Tim. They believe all sorts of notes from their parents. Even ones written by somebody else. Don't worry, my love. He's perfectly safe with my friends. They actually like children. They'll keep Tim amused till tonight."

  "Then what?" she demanded, ignoring the steel at her throat.

  "Why not ask your new boyfriend?" said Roger. Pulling the knife away, he viciously shoved her face-first across the seat of the car. By the time she sat up, he had disappeared into the crowd.

  It would have been easy then to just give up, to abandon herself to despair. But Janet refused to let that happen. Instead, she drew in several deep breaths to steady her nerves. Turning the key in the ignition, she steered her car into the traffic. Roger and his friends had too much of a head start. There was no way she could track them down. And if she found them, there was nothing she could do on her own. She needed help. The police would ask too many questions she couldn't answer. Her only hope was Taine.

  Roger thought she was beaten. He always underestimated her nerve. She never gave up. No matter what the odds, she would rescue her son. Or die trying.

  42

  Hungrily, Felice bit into the custard-filled donut. The action sent a thin stream of yellow goo spurting across her chin and upper lip. Slowly, sensuously, she licked her features clean. Felice trembled in ecstasy. Cream donuts turned her on. Eating them reminded her of sex. She giggled. These days, nearly everything reminded her of sex.

  It was a little after four in the afternoon. She was fully recovered from her encounter with the Dark Man the night before last. She couldn't afford not to be. The rent had to be paid. As did the crack dealers. Her encounter with the Dark Man had not cured Felice of her taste for dope. But she was careful not to buy any from the Children of Danballah.

  "Enjoying yourself, Felice?" someone asked from behind her back. A heavy hand fell on her shoulder.

  Felice froze. It was the Dark Man, she thought, panic-stricken. He had come back to get her. Then common sense took over. She was sitting at the counter of a donut shop in the Loop. This wasn't the Dark Man's time or territory.

  Felice swung around and found herself facing two grinning detectives. "She's the only hooker I know who sucks off donuts," said Calvin Lane.

  "She's hot," said Moe Kaufman, nodding. "She'll burn the jelly right out of them poor pastries."

  "My, my," said Felice, looking the two men up and down. "What do we have here? The Sylvester and Tweetie Bird of the Chicago Police Department. What a surprise, seeing two officers of the law in a donut shop."

  Felice laughed at the sour expressions on the detective's faces. Chicago cops were notorious for wasting time in fast-food joints. "We're here on business," said Kaufman.

  "Not with me you ain't," said Felice, swinging one leg casually back and forth as she spoke. Wearing her usual micromini leather skirt, the move showed off a lot of thigh. She got a kick out of flashing the cops. Especially when she knew they had no thoughts of arresting her.

  Kaufman and Lane were detectives, not street cops. They didn't spend their time cruising the streets busting hookers. Instead, from time to time, they came to her looking for news. It was an easy way to make a few bucks when times were slow. Not that it mattered much at the moment. Business was booming. "I don't got nothing to sell today."

  "Maybe, maybe not," said Calvin Lane, sliding onto the chair next to her. Kaufman eased into the one on her other side. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

  Kaufman signaled for coffee. Smiling, he asked, "Run into Crack Annie lately?"

  "Crack Annie?" repeated Felice, trying to think of something to say. "Haven't seen her in a few weeks. I've been busy."

  "Word on the street is that you're one of the regulars at her crack parties each week," said Lane. He took a sip from his coffee cup. "There was a get-together on Wednesday night."

  "I missed it," said Felice hurriedly. "I was busy." She smiled. "I was entertaining some college dudes. I got witnesses, two of them."

  "Stay cool," said Kaufman, shrugging his shoulders. "We're not looking to take you in. All we want is some information."

  "That's right," said Lane. The two detectives alternated speaking, keeping her off balance trying to follow the conversation. "Tell us about the Dark Man."

  "Don't know nothing 'bout no Dark Man," muttered Felice.

  "I think you do," said Kaufman. "He's a big dude who wears a black overcoat and carries a butcher's cleaver. We think he visited Crack Annie's party the other night."

  "He killed all your friends, Felice," said Lane. "Don't you want us to catch this maniac?"

  "He'll kill me next," said Felice softly.

  "No way," said Lane, shaking his head. "The Dark Man isn't going to waste time tracking down people like you. We already interviewed another girl who escaped him earlier. She's doin' fine."

  "Yeah," said Kaufman, grimacing. "Making crack and dreaming of a pink Cadillac."

  "Let's hear it," said Lane. "What happened at Crack Annie's?"

  Felice spent the next fifteen minutes describing the events of Wednesday evening. The officers sat silently through her entire recital, not interrupting once. When she was finished, Calvin Lane was the first to speak.

  "Jibes pretty much with what Lisa Ray told us." He stared at Felice. "You sure this Dark Man was that tall? Maybe he was so big and bulky, you imagined he was a six-footer."

  "I knows what I saw," said Felice. "He was a big mother."

  Lane looked at his partner and shrugged. "Lisa wouldn't budge from her description, either."

  "I don't care," said Kaufman. "Our buddy has the motive, strength and opportunity. He's my choice until someone else better comes along."

  "Hey," said Felice. "Didn't you fools pay no attention? The dude had no face. And Annie stabbed him good. How you explain that?"

  "He wore a mask to hide his features," said Kaufman. "As to the knife, you were high on crack. The stuff played tricks with your mind. You thought you saw Annie stab him. A steel blade can't cut through mesh body-armor."

  "Nothing supernatural about the Dark Man," said Lane. "He's a hustler trying to take over the Children of Danballah."

  "Doin' a pretty good job, the way I sees it," said Felice. "When you boys gonna take him down?"

  "Soon,",answered Moe Kaufman. "Real soon."

  43

  The police consider Ape their prime suspect in the killings," said Papa Benjamin. The voodoo priest looked anything but pleased. Sitting next to him, Ape shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "What else is new?"

  Taine nodded in silent agreement. Looking at the case from the police point of view, Ape made a wonderful choice for the Dark Man. His involvement with Willis Royce placed him right in the thick of the speculation about a drug war in the streets. Only a few men possessed the strength to wield a butcher's cleaver with such deadly efficiency. Ape was one of those few. And his reputation labeled him a ruthless, maniacal killer.

  "They found the mess at the Temple," said Ape, as if reading Taine's mind. "According to the news, there were chopped up bodies all over. Right away, a couple of hotshot detectives noticed mine was missing. Putting two and two together, they decided I murdered all the others. Nice to know the cops think so highly of me."

  "Can you blame them?" asked Taine.

  "Nah. Sometimes I scare myself looking in the mirror. But it still doesn't make me a mass murderer. Usually guys like that dress in business suits and sound real normal. I look too much like a maniac to be one."

  "Try telling the police that," said Taine. "We destroyed the Dark Man. I never realized we needed his body."

  "They won't close the case until they pin the murders on somebody," said Ape. "Unless we come up with a likely suspect, I'll be on the run for the rest of my life."

  "Arelim . . ." began Taine. The rest of his sentence was lost as a frantic Janet Packard burst into the room.

  "They got Timmy," she said, in a voice so calm it was frightening. "Bruno's dead. And I know the truth about my father."

  Taine was up and out of his chair in an instant. Ignoring the others, he hugged Janet close, holding her tight against him. At first she remained unmoving, stiff and unyielding. Then gradually, he could feel the tension lessening within her. The madness that gripped her retreated before his concern. Her body softened, relaxed beneath his touch. Her head rested on his shoulder. Softly, she began to cry.

  The tears started slow, but within seconds were falling uncontrollably. Great wracking sobs shook Janet's body. Taine felt incredibly helpless. Gently, he stroked her hair and kept her close. There was nothing much else he could do. All the words in the world, all the reassurances, meant nothing.

  Finally the tears came to an end. Straightening, Janet brushed her hair back away from her eyes. Taking a tissue from a distraught Mrs. McConnell, she dabbed her eyes dry.

  "Sorry for the tears," said Janet. "I lost control for a minute. Roger did it. He planned the whole thing."

  Briefly and to the point, she described everything that happened at the school.

  Taine shook his head, annoyed with himself. "I underestimated, seriously underestimated, your ex-husband. When I spoke to Willis Royce, he indicated that he never heard of Roger. From that I assumed he had no actual connections with the Black Lodge. I dismissed him as an annoying nuisance with delusions of grandeur. Your father's precautions seemed adequate."