"A Face Like Death"
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dochermes"A Face Like Death"
[1969]
8/22-8/23/1979
Against the backdrop of twilight beyond the wide picture window, Golgora's head and shoulders were just a dark, ominous outline. The small red glow which marked the tip of his cigarette brightened as he drew upon it. "Proceed."
Harold Werner sat on a plain straightback chair in a circle of light from the ceiling. He was haggard, with dark circles under watery blue eyes and two days' growth of blond beard, but he had never been a large or imposing figure in his best days. Now he hunched forward, hands folded loosely and looked down at the floor. "Master, before we begin, may I-"
"No. Wait. Report first," came the hollow voice.
"Yes, Master. Your faithful servants have been watching the building on East 38th Street these past weeks. There has been much activity, many people coming and going, and we have identified eight regular visitors. It is most remarkable. Kenneth Dred died in his sleep last month. He had been a Midnight War adventurer in his youth and in his old age, he acted as counsellor and mentor to new adventurers. Two years ago, he hired a street thug called Jeremy Bane to act as his agent."
"Go on," said Golgora. "All this is known to me, but you may have found new details."
"For almost two years, Bane worked for Kenneth Dred with remarkable success. He is very young, we believe no more than twenty-two or twenty-three, with no training or background. Yet he has defeated several powerful opponents, including Atron Ke of Ulgor, Eliphas Cohen, Dr Kobyashi, and a coven of Red Sect. Even Armidros, the Spawn of Draldros! He seems to be simply a dangerous and resourceful fighter. There are many reports that he has superior reflexes, and is quick enough to tackle Children of the Night on equal terms. He has also been observed using the silver daggers which Dred himself wielded for decades. In the Midnight War, he is known as Dire Wolf."
Golgora exhaled a stream of smoke with a hiss, but made no comment yet.
"Your servants have learned that Dred left everything to Bane in his will.. a fortune worth many millions of dollars, the building on 38th Street with its library and talismans, all the forbidden knowledge Dred had gathered about the secret worlds. As soon as Dred died, Bane seems to have begun a project to assemble a group of Midnight War fighters. He intends to call it the Kenneth Dred Foundation. As far as your servants can determine, Bane wants to have essentially a strike force to use on behalf of Humans against any occult forces which might threaten it." Werner shifted and fidgeted. "Your loyal servants have observed Michael Hawk visiting the building. We have seen Lawrence Taper, the Silver Skull, there as well. The new Blue Guide, Dr Thaddeus Wright and an unidentified blonde woman who is reportedly a telepath. One report has a Trom Monitor coming and going, something rare in the cities of Men. Most worrisome of all is the frequent presence of Khang."
Finally, Golgora spoke. "Yes. The silver man. The Sword of Halar-Koth. His coming has been long prophesied and long dreaded. All these warriors gathering together is an intolerable threat to the lords I represent. This Kenneth Dred Foundation must be stamped out before it becomes a reality. Jeremy Bane must die! And you... Harold Werner, you are honored to be the weapon I shall use to accomplish this!"
Werner lowered his head, trembling visibly. "Master, this humble servant will do as you say. Yet I am no warrior..."
"Nor need you be," said the sepulchral voice. "Merely a messenger. In the morning, you shall be sent on your mission but tonight you may dream your miserable little dreams. Here." A bony hand tossed a cellophane packet of amber crystals which Werner caught eagerly. "Return to your chamber down the hall. Schoonmaker is already dreaming in his bunk. At dawn, you will be fed and sent on your mission. Go now."
Werner bowed so low his head almost touched his knees. "Thank you, Master, thank you! Your servant is grateful indeed." He backed out of the room without turning around. Behind him, Golgora chuckled, then began to laugh out loud. This was better than he had hoped for. The Humans became addicted to the yellow lotus so easily! And once they had tried it, they could not live without it. He rose from his bench and snubbed out his cigarette in an onyx ashtray. All too easy. As much as he hated working for any Human, even one as formidable as Karl Eldritch, Golgora had to admit coming to this world had been the right decision. His homeland was stagnant, dull, his people the Nekrosim merely sleepwalking through the ages. It was here in the Human world that real excitement could be found.
From where it had been resting beside him, Golgora held up a white object nearly round. For a long minute, he stood regarding it, turning the skull over in his hands with deep affection. "Ah, my father," he intoned in his unnatural voice, "How well you taught me. And how surprised you were when I used your lessons against you. Hah! The irony is bittersweet at best, is it not?"
From the neck down, there was nothing frightening about the Nekrosan. He stood just under six feet tall, thin and even starved in appearance. His dark brown suit was well-tailored, and he wore a yellow cravat rather than a tie. But above the collar was a nightmare in flesh. The Nekrosan's head was totally bald, without a trace of hair, not even eyelashes. His dark brown eyes were deepset beneath a protruding brow ledge and the expression in them was not quite sane by Human standards. Golgora's nose was an insignificant snub, two nostrils set above a long upper lip, and his ears were two holes. His mouth was too wide, and when he grinned as he did now, he looked like a skull barely covered with taut unhealthy skin. Golgora leered at the skull of his own father who he had slain, and enjoyed the way it seemed to smile back at him. The laughter well up within him and could not be contained.
II.
At five minutes to eight, Jeremy Bane strode quickly into the conference room on the second floor. He had already been up for two hours, getting a thirty-minute run on the new treadmill in the gym, showering and shaving and downing a huge plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. There was so much to do everyday. Michael Hawk's partner, attorney Donna Worth, had been busy handling the red tape and applications and endless paperwork which Bane would have not had a clue about. The Kenneth Dred Foundation was going to be established as a non-profit research organization dedicated to investigating paranormal events. That was true as far as it went. But in fact, the members would be engaged in battles against those paranormal forces, whether Human sorcerers or the Darthim or supernatural creatures. That part would go unknown to the world.
The young Dire Wolf was wearing his usual uniform of all black - slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, which had become a trademark he was recognized for. On sheaths beneath his sleeves, matched silver daggers were strapped to his forearms. Those silver blades had been a gift to him when he first started working for Kenneth Dred, and he valued them more than anything else he could ever own. The Dire Wolf's pale grey eyes moved over the conference room, past the long oak table with its twelve chairs, past the wall of bookshelves. He had brought in three green metal filing cabinets where KDF missions would be recorded. He had communication equipment installed, as well as a monitor screen to the closed-circuit TV camera outside the front door on the street below. A huge heavy world map took up much of one wall. There was more to do. Ever since he had since the stealth copter which Leonard Slade had modified out in New Mexico, Bane had been determined his new KDF would have one of their own, and he was thinking of having the roof walled off to form a tenth floor which would be the hangar.
The biggest excitement was being accepted at the Order of Tel Shai. It had been Ted Wright who had sponsored him and, after a profound examination by the Teachers, he had been allowed to join as a knight. His special area of study would be Kumundu, the primal martial art taught only by Chael. As to the others who were discussing joining the KDF, they would have to be considered for Tel Shai individually. But he figured they would be accepted, they were a remarkable bunch. Right at the moment, two of the potential members were in the building. Leonard Slade was installing security equipment and Ted Wright was sleeping in a guest room after an overnight ER shift at Mount Sinai.
Bane was still amazed at the entire situation. Just two years ago he had been moving from one cheap rented room to another, carrying everything he owned in a knapsack, stealing and hiring out as bodyguard or courier. Kenneth Dred had changed all that....
The front doorbell rang, which meant an identical bell rang here, as well as one in his own room. Bane went over to the console and turned on the monitor screen. Two men in suits were standing outside on 38th Street. He didn't recognize them, but they were carrying armloads of old books. Through the intercom, he said, "I'll be right with you," and unlocked the front door to let them into the tiny foyer. All his instincts were warning him. He had survived a dangerous life on the streets by listening to his instincts. The Dire Wolf came down the stairs to the first floor and stopped as he saw Slade by the front door.
The Trom was a bit taller than Bane, more powerfully built. He was wearing a dark jumpsuit fitted with numerous small pouches and pockets filled with tiny gadgets. Slade turned and regarded Bane with calm, intense eyes. "Allow me," he said. "I will test our new scanners." Swinging open a hinged wooden panel set a face level, Slade activated its screen and tapped three buttons. In the foyer where the visitors waited, Trom equipment more sophisticated than any MRI scan recorded every detail of the two men.
"No ID on our visitors," Slade said. "One is carrying an Army Colt .45 automatic in a belt holster. Both are registering elevated heart rates and excess adrenaline in their perspiration." The Trom opened the door and faced the two men. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" The two visitors twitched and looked up at him. One was an obvious thug, with a bull neck and one ear that had taken a pounding at some point. The neat suit and tie looked completely out of place on him, and he held a stack of four thick hardbound books as if he had no idea what they were. The other man was lugging a cardboard box with more old books, but he was middle-aged and rather worn-out looking, with mousy hair and watery blue eyes. He couldn't meet Bane's stare, but managed to say, "We have books for Kenneth Dred."
"Really," Slade said. "You know that Mr Dred passed away over a month ago?"
"No. I didn't know that," said the twitchy man. "We- uh, we were asked to bring these over. A man named Daniel Hartigan died and he left instructions to bring these books here. I guess they're old and rare..?
As the Dire Wolf watched from the foot of the stairs, Harry Werner stepped into the hall and said, "Here, look at this one." A low hiss sounded and a thin spray of almost colorless vapor shot out from the book at the Trom's face. Slade reacted with superhuman switfness, slapping the man aside with one hand while yanking the book away and throwing it into the foyer. Even before Werner hit the floor, Slade had slammed the door shut.
Bane was moving forward but Slade said, "Do not approach me yet," and hurried into the bathroom next to the stairs, closing the door behind him. For once, the Dire Wolf was at a loss about what had happened. He heard water running in the bathroom. Harry Werner was getting to his feet and staring at the front door in horror. Bane seized the man by the shirt front and yanked him forward off his feet, throwing the man to the ground. "I can see we are going to have some questions for you. Get up. Go in that room to your left." The Dire Wolf followed Werner into the reception room, which was sparsely furnished. There was an oak desk against one wall, a couch and six leatherbound chairs. Against the far wall was a waist-high bookcase with a fish tank on its top, and a beautiful hand-painted map of the world as it had been in 1937 hung over the desk. Bane threw the dazed man roughly onto the couch. "Stay put."
In the doorway, Leonard Slade appeared, toweling his head dry. "I should be safe to be near now," he said quietly. "That device released a pressurized stream of potassium cyanide. It was clearly an assassination attempt."
"Cyanide...? Len, are you okay? Don't you need medical treatment right away?"
"I am fine. My lungs sealed automatically and I drew on a reserve air bladder. Our experts have tried to prepare Monitors for any hostile situation," he said. "But the foyer is hazardous now, as most of the poison was released there. I am certain the other visitor is now dead."
Bane said nothing. He was still learning about his new teammates and he had just begun to realize how extensively Slade had been modified by his Race. "If you say so," he said, then turned to where Werner was staring with bulging eyes. "I guess you have some explaining to do, my friend."
"Cyanide? No, that's impossible. The Master told me it was dilute ether, that you would be just knocked out and we would be fine if we held our breaths for a minute. Now Jack is dead?" Werner started to rise but froze at a glare from the Dire Wolf.
"Looks to me like your so-called Master thought you were both expendable," Bane said. "Who are you working for?"
"I- I can't tell you. He'd kill me. Worse, he'd cut me off. I couldn't stand that."
Bane stepped closer, his voice icy. "Oh, you're going to talk. It's just a question of how soon. Your Master has no use for you now that you've failed."
The Trom left the room without explanation. He was going to activate the air filters in the hall and clear the gas from the sealed foyer to slowly dissipate outside, but he did not want to interfere with the questioning. Left behind with Werner, Bane stared at the man shrewdly.
"You're hooked on something," he said after a minute. "I recognize the signs. Heroin? Speed? Whatever it is, you're due for a dose. You just broke out in a sweat and your hands are shaking. I'll tell you this, you're not going anywhere until you talk so get ready for withdrawal."
Werner shook as if feverish. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's like."
"Just start with a name. Just a name," Bane demanded.
The miserable man blurted, "Golgora. That's all I know. I don't know where he's from or why he looks the way he does!"
"What do you mean, why he looks the way he does? Come on, talk and you can go."
"He looks like a monster. He looks like a living skull. Please, please, let me go. I need to get back."
Behind Bane, Ted Wright stood in the doorway. He was a solidly-built black man about forty, with some grey in his beard and a mournful face. The Blue Guide wore a suit without a tie, and he was pulling on the jacket as he entered. "What's going on here, Jeremy?" he demanded softly.
"You missed the excitement. This guy and a pal came here and sprayed poison gas at Len. He's okay, something about having an air bladder for emergencies. I'm getting some information from this character," Bane said.
"He's addicted to something strong. An opiate, perhaps." The Blue Guide stepped closer. "I'm Dr Wright. When was the last time you had your drug?"
"Hours ago. It wears off quicker each day. I need more."
Wright frowned. "The symptoms are mixed. Maybe I can help, but tell me exactly what you are on."
"I don't- I don't exactly. The Master gives it to us. He calls it yellow lotus. One of his men forced it on me and I was hooked." Werner started to convulse, as if about to throw up.
"Hold him down if you will," Wright said. As Bane pushed the man back against the couch, the Blue Guide dropped to one knee and lowered his head. A strange blue haze gathered around Werner, swirling almost like mist. It grew brighter, then sank into his body. Werner sighed and relaxed visibly.
"I strengthened his flow of lifeforce," Wright said. "The drug he's on is causing a lot of cardiac damage and his respiratory system is struggling. This won't last. I can stabilize him for now, but I want to take him to the ER and probably a rehab clinic."
"We need answers first," insisted Bane. "Who sent him here with a poison gas spray?"
"Oh my God, that's better. I feel like myself again. The chill in my bones is gone." Werner's voice was stronger and more assured. "Damn that Golgora. He gets men addicted to enslave them. I'll tell you where to find him. He has to be stopped, no matter what it takes."
"Oh, he'll be stopped," said the Dire Wolf. "I promise you that!"
III.
Ten minutes later, Bane went let Wright take Werner into the kitchen for a light meal. The yellow lotus addict was emaciated and dehydrated. He had learned the few details that Werner had known, not really as much as he would have liked. From the description, Golgora was a Nekrosan, from the adjacent realm of Perjena. They were a hermit Race who kept to themselves. One Nekrosan turned up in Paris around 1911 and another became a terrorist for the Nazis in 1940 under the handle Skull-Face, but few knew their origins. Most thought they were merely deformed and malicious Humans. Except for the grotesque faces, Nekrosim were identical to Humans in every important characteristic. They did tend to have a short lifespan of forty or so, aging rapidly after that point.
Pacing the reception room, the Dire Wolf tried to remember everything he had read about the Nekrosim. There were some sorcerors in the culture, but they certainly weren't on a par with the Darthim, and they did not have venomous fangs like the Snake men or immense strength like Trolls. Mostly, they were a threat because of their morbid culture with its death-worship and murderous ways. This Golgora had to be stopped before he wracked up a string of murders.
As Leonard Slade entered, Bane glanced up. "What's the situation, Len?"
"The foyer is now safe to enter unprotected. I have taken the body of the would-be assassin down to the basement. Unless you have other plans, I will dispose of it through disintegration."
"Go ahead." Bane regarded the Trom somberly. "You know, Len, I still tend to think of you as a regular human being, smarter than most and very calm and self-contained. But you're not, are you? You're a Trom."
"My Race was modified from Human stock back in the Darthan Age. Most of us are basically Human still except for our minds, but as a Monitor, I have been extensively modified." Slade went over and checked the temperature on the fish tank and Bane wondered if he was really interested in the fish or it was just a gesture he made to appear normal.
"The Teachers never just come out and say anything, but I'm sure they have decided to accept you as a student." The Dire Wolf watched Slade shake some fish food into the tank with precise hands. "Everyone benefits. Through you, the Trom get Tel Shai mystic knowledge. In return, the KDF gets access to some Trom technology."
"A mutually beneficial exchange," Slade agreed.
"See, I wanted to ask you about that helicopter you and Steve are working on out in New Mexico," Bane began but was interrupted as Ted Wright led Werner back into the room. "You look better," he said to Golgora's henchman.
"Jeremy, I have not cured Harry of his addiction," said Wright. "I have just placed him in a state of remission. Within a few hours, his system will start to crave the yellow lotus again. I must insist he be taken to the hospital."
"As soon as we settle things with Golgora," Bane said. "Harry! What's your decision about this?"
"I want to pay that bastard back for what he did to me. He deserves a painful death after the torture he put me through. I'm with you."
"There you go," said Bane. "Len, I would like you standing by in the area in case things go wrong, but keeping out of sight. I expect Golgora to be suspicious enough as it is. Ted, I'm going to need you come along as part of the deception. I want Golgora to think his assassination attempt almost succeeded..."
IV.
At 28th Street, Werner pulled up at the end of the block, not seeing any closer parking spots, and gestured to a big man in work clothes who had been reading a newspaper in a doorway. Leiber was one of Golgora's slaves, set on watch duty. He folded the newspaper and hurried over. Werner was struggling to try to haul a limp figure from the back seat, and the beefy Leiber easily yanked Bane out of the car, draped one arm around his shoulder and straightened up. Bane's head hung down loosely. He seemed completely unconscious, and Leiber held him up.
"Come on, Harry, take his other arm," the thug said. "Let's hustle through the lobby." They hauled Bane into the 20-story Brackett Building and caught an elevator just as the door opened. One or two businessmen passing through saw them, but decided to mind their own business. Maybe the guy being carried was drunk, maybe he had medical problems but in any case there was no reason to get involved. At the ninth floor, they stepped out into a wide hallway and an old man got up from his chair. "Leiber. Werner. You can go right in with your.. friend." The old man thumbed a button on the arm of the chair and a buzzer sounded. Behind the door with the brass plate TERMINUS CONSULTING, a lock clicked open.
The two henchmen carried Bane into a nearly empty room, where they dumped him on the floor. Even as he fell, weak as he was, the young Dire Wolf managed to land with one hand pressed flat to the floor and his legs together. There was a desk and chair against one wall, some strange statues on shelves and a chest-high brazier burning with red flame. In front of a wide picture window was a big solid chair, and in it sat Golgora. The skull-faced man no longer wore the expensive tailored suit with cravat, but had changed into a dark brown jumpsuit that had its legs tucked into polished jackboots. Holstered on his right side was a 9mm Luger and sheathed at his left was a commando knife with a nine inch blade. The Nekrosan rose to his feet, his bizarre smile growing even wider.
"This is not exactly following orders," he intoned in his hollow voice. "Did I not make my wishes clear, Werner?"
Harry Werner fell to his knees and pressed his face to the floor. "Forgive me, Master. I did not know what to do. There was a struggle. This man killed your other faithful servant and then he escaped all but a whiff of the gas. He was not dead but badly hurt, and I thought I should bring him here. Perhaps you may have questions for him?"
"Do not presume to think what I will or will not do," growled the skull-faced man. "And yet, this may turn out to be fortuitous." He knelt and seized Bane's wrist, listened by the Dire Wolf's mouth. "His pulse is slow and weak. His breathing labored. He is not merely pretending injury... which is well for him AND for you, Werner. If I thought you were trying to trick me...." Golgora felt Bane's pulse again and stood up. "I think he will live long enough to answer some questions. Yes. The heir to Kenneth Dred must have information I can use. Perhaps I will loot the famous house on 38th Street. There are some talismans said to be stored there."
Werner rose, head still lowered. Leiber said, "Master, what is your command?"
"You two? Wait in your quarters. I will summon you if needed. Here." From a slit pocket in his jumpsuit, Golgora handed them each a packet of the amber crystals. "Just a half dose for the moment. I may need your services yet and I do not want you lost in yellow lotus dreams." Both men thanked the Nekrosan profusely and hurried from the room.
On the street corner outside, Ted Wright gazed up at the ninth floor of the building where he could sense the Dire Wolf's essence. It had been with reluctance that he had agreed to subdue Bane's lifeforce, to reduce his vital signs and place him into a daze, but he knew it had been necessary. Now he reached out with his mind across the distance and brought Bane back up to normal levels. The Dire Wolf snapped back to full awareness. This had been a dangerous gambit, and it wasn't over yet. Very slowly, he turned his head and let out the faintest of groans. It was enough. Immediately, Golgora was crouching over him inches away.
"What's this?" came the ghoulish voice. "You seem to be more reslient than I expected. Good. Let's give you a few minutes. Karl Eldritch can wait for his trophy. You may be valuable to me first."
Bane eased one eye open the barest slit. Golgora had inserted a brown-paper cigarette into a slim holder and reached into pocket for a silver lighter. As he flicked open the lighter and touched the flame to the end of the cigarette, he was as distracted as he would ever be. Bane heaved up off the floor and lunged at the man faster than a real wolf could have, slamming headlong into his enemy. A vicious hook to the stomach doubled Golgora up, but the follow-up blow to the face was deflected by an outer block. The skull-faced man swept Bane's punch to one side and countered with an rigid open hand that cracked hard to the base of the Dire Wolf's neck. He was dazed for a second by that and Golgora added a straight punch to the chest that drove the Wolf back. The reprieve was only for an instant. Bane came in with a lightning flurry of alternating left-right punches that smacked home to Golgora's face and body from all directions.
The Nekosan raised his arms to defend his upper body, and Bane kicked his right shin as if he intended to break it, throwing the man with the floor. Golgora hit hard, rolled and went for his gun but, even as he drew it, Bane stamped down hard on that wrist and yanked the Luger away. On his back face up, Golgora swept his left leg up to his own face and swung it over to catch Bane across the chest, forcing him back. The Dire Wolf fell backwards, and the skull-faced man was up and pouncing upon him. Golgora ran right into an elbow to the face that nearly killed him and he sagged. Then Bane smashed him alongside the temple with the man's own gun and the fight was over.
Kneeling over the stunned Nekrosan, Bane yanked man's commando knife from his sheath and tossed it across the floor. The Luger he holstered in his own pocket. As Golgora moaned and stirred, Bane pinned him down with a knee to the center of the back. "Time for some explaining, mister. I know you're a Nekrosan. You people never leave your realm, yet here you are. What have you got against me?"
Even held down and battered, Golgora chuckled. "You really don't know? You are so ignorant, child. All the deadly enemies you inherited from Kenneth Dred, you don't even know their names. Wu Lung? Quilt? Arem Kamende? By the Great Mystery, you are in over your head, young man."
"Yeah, well, I learn fast. You mentioned Karl Eldritch. Let's start with him, okay?"
"Very well. Listen closely," Golgora said as he lowered his voice. It was an old trick and Bane almost fell for it. He leaned closer, easing the pressure just a bit that was holding his enemy down, and Golgora surged free. The Nekrosan was up and grabbing at the Dire Wolf with clawing fingers. Golgora was skilled and vicious, but Bane had the edge of enhanced speed that let him sidestep that attack and slam and savage rabbit punch to the back of the neck. The cracking noise was loud and decisive. Golgora rolled over and lay with his eyes open and unblinking, head bent far to one side.
Dead or alive, he looks about the same, Bane thought.
Going to the door, he threw it wide open and stood behind it. A second later, the guard named Leiber came rushing in. Bane had intended to spin the man around and knock him out, but Leiber hurried over to the body before whirling around. The revolver in his hand was already rising. Bane fired once with Golgora's Luger, catching the man right in the center of the face. Even as the body dropped, the Dire Wolf wiped off his own prints and pressed the Luger into Golgora's limp hand. Now to get out of here. Out in the hall, there was no sign of the elderly sentry was Harry Werner standing by the elevator.
"Time of get out of here," Bane snapped and pressed the button. As the cage opened, he dragged the bewildered Werner with him into the cage and hit the first floor button.
"Is he dead? What was that shot?"
"Golgora's lying there with a broken neck," the Dire Wolf said. "As for the guard, well, he drew on me. I claim self-defense in both cases." They got out at the lobby and were almost at the door when they looked back to see the old sentry and two more thugs running toward the elevator. "We'll worry about them later. Without a leader, I don't think they're much threat."
"I'm starting to feel shaky again," Werner muttered. "I saved the pack of yellow lotus that the Mas--that Golgora gave me."
"They'll need that for analysis, Harry. I'm turning you over to Dr Wright. You're in the best hands with him. He'll take you to the hospital and see if you can get into rehab right away."
As they hurried around the corner to where Ted Wright stood by his car, Werner's voice broke. "I tried to kill you- and you saved me. You saved me from drug addiction and slavery to a monster. I'll never be able to repay you."
"You never know," Bane said. "Maybe someday you can help me out of a tight spot. My part in this Midnight War is just kicking into gear."
3/12/2014
[1969]
8/22-8/23/1979
Against the backdrop of twilight beyond the wide picture window, Golgora's head and shoulders were just a dark, ominous outline. The small red glow which marked the tip of his cigarette brightened as he drew upon it. "Proceed."
Harold Werner sat on a plain straightback chair in a circle of light from the ceiling. He was haggard, with dark circles under watery blue eyes and two days' growth of blond beard, but he had never been a large or imposing figure in his best days. Now he hunched forward, hands folded loosely and looked down at the floor. "Master, before we begin, may I-"
"No. Wait. Report first," came the hollow voice.
"Yes, Master. Your faithful servants have been watching the building on East 38th Street these past weeks. There has been much activity, many people coming and going, and we have identified eight regular visitors. It is most remarkable. Kenneth Dred died in his sleep last month. He had been a Midnight War adventurer in his youth and in his old age, he acted as counsellor and mentor to new adventurers. Two years ago, he hired a street thug called Jeremy Bane to act as his agent."
"Go on," said Golgora. "All this is known to me, but you may have found new details."
"For almost two years, Bane worked for Kenneth Dred with remarkable success. He is very young, we believe no more than twenty-two or twenty-three, with no training or background. Yet he has defeated several powerful opponents, including Atron Ke of Ulgor, Eliphas Cohen, Dr Kobyashi, and a coven of Red Sect. Even Armidros, the Spawn of Draldros! He seems to be simply a dangerous and resourceful fighter. There are many reports that he has superior reflexes, and is quick enough to tackle Children of the Night on equal terms. He has also been observed using the silver daggers which Dred himself wielded for decades. In the Midnight War, he is known as Dire Wolf."
Golgora exhaled a stream of smoke with a hiss, but made no comment yet.
"Your servants have learned that Dred left everything to Bane in his will.. a fortune worth many millions of dollars, the building on 38th Street with its library and talismans, all the forbidden knowledge Dred had gathered about the secret worlds. As soon as Dred died, Bane seems to have begun a project to assemble a group of Midnight War fighters. He intends to call it the Kenneth Dred Foundation. As far as your servants can determine, Bane wants to have essentially a strike force to use on behalf of Humans against any occult forces which might threaten it." Werner shifted and fidgeted. "Your loyal servants have observed Michael Hawk visiting the building. We have seen Lawrence Taper, the Silver Skull, there as well. The new Blue Guide, Dr Thaddeus Wright and an unidentified blonde woman who is reportedly a telepath. One report has a Trom Monitor coming and going, something rare in the cities of Men. Most worrisome of all is the frequent presence of Khang."
Finally, Golgora spoke. "Yes. The silver man. The Sword of Halar-Koth. His coming has been long prophesied and long dreaded. All these warriors gathering together is an intolerable threat to the lords I represent. This Kenneth Dred Foundation must be stamped out before it becomes a reality. Jeremy Bane must die! And you... Harold Werner, you are honored to be the weapon I shall use to accomplish this!"
Werner lowered his head, trembling visibly. "Master, this humble servant will do as you say. Yet I am no warrior..."
"Nor need you be," said the sepulchral voice. "Merely a messenger. In the morning, you shall be sent on your mission but tonight you may dream your miserable little dreams. Here." A bony hand tossed a cellophane packet of amber crystals which Werner caught eagerly. "Return to your chamber down the hall. Schoonmaker is already dreaming in his bunk. At dawn, you will be fed and sent on your mission. Go now."
Werner bowed so low his head almost touched his knees. "Thank you, Master, thank you! Your servant is grateful indeed." He backed out of the room without turning around. Behind him, Golgora chuckled, then began to laugh out loud. This was better than he had hoped for. The Humans became addicted to the yellow lotus so easily! And once they had tried it, they could not live without it. He rose from his bench and snubbed out his cigarette in an onyx ashtray. All too easy. As much as he hated working for any Human, even one as formidable as Karl Eldritch, Golgora had to admit coming to this world had been the right decision. His homeland was stagnant, dull, his people the Nekrosim merely sleepwalking through the ages. It was here in the Human world that real excitement could be found.
From where it had been resting beside him, Golgora held up a white object nearly round. For a long minute, he stood regarding it, turning the skull over in his hands with deep affection. "Ah, my father," he intoned in his unnatural voice, "How well you taught me. And how surprised you were when I used your lessons against you. Hah! The irony is bittersweet at best, is it not?"
From the neck down, there was nothing frightening about the Nekrosan. He stood just under six feet tall, thin and even starved in appearance. His dark brown suit was well-tailored, and he wore a yellow cravat rather than a tie. But above the collar was a nightmare in flesh. The Nekrosan's head was totally bald, without a trace of hair, not even eyelashes. His dark brown eyes were deepset beneath a protruding brow ledge and the expression in them was not quite sane by Human standards. Golgora's nose was an insignificant snub, two nostrils set above a long upper lip, and his ears were two holes. His mouth was too wide, and when he grinned as he did now, he looked like a skull barely covered with taut unhealthy skin. Golgora leered at the skull of his own father who he had slain, and enjoyed the way it seemed to smile back at him. The laughter well up within him and could not be contained.
II.
At five minutes to eight, Jeremy Bane strode quickly into the conference room on the second floor. He had already been up for two hours, getting a thirty-minute run on the new treadmill in the gym, showering and shaving and downing a huge plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. There was so much to do everyday. Michael Hawk's partner, attorney Donna Worth, had been busy handling the red tape and applications and endless paperwork which Bane would have not had a clue about. The Kenneth Dred Foundation was going to be established as a non-profit research organization dedicated to investigating paranormal events. That was true as far as it went. But in fact, the members would be engaged in battles against those paranormal forces, whether Human sorcerers or the Darthim or supernatural creatures. That part would go unknown to the world.
The young Dire Wolf was wearing his usual uniform of all black - slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, which had become a trademark he was recognized for. On sheaths beneath his sleeves, matched silver daggers were strapped to his forearms. Those silver blades had been a gift to him when he first started working for Kenneth Dred, and he valued them more than anything else he could ever own. The Dire Wolf's pale grey eyes moved over the conference room, past the long oak table with its twelve chairs, past the wall of bookshelves. He had brought in three green metal filing cabinets where KDF missions would be recorded. He had communication equipment installed, as well as a monitor screen to the closed-circuit TV camera outside the front door on the street below. A huge heavy world map took up much of one wall. There was more to do. Ever since he had since the stealth copter which Leonard Slade had modified out in New Mexico, Bane had been determined his new KDF would have one of their own, and he was thinking of having the roof walled off to form a tenth floor which would be the hangar.
The biggest excitement was being accepted at the Order of Tel Shai. It had been Ted Wright who had sponsored him and, after a profound examination by the Teachers, he had been allowed to join as a knight. His special area of study would be Kumundu, the primal martial art taught only by Chael. As to the others who were discussing joining the KDF, they would have to be considered for Tel Shai individually. But he figured they would be accepted, they were a remarkable bunch. Right at the moment, two of the potential members were in the building. Leonard Slade was installing security equipment and Ted Wright was sleeping in a guest room after an overnight ER shift at Mount Sinai.
Bane was still amazed at the entire situation. Just two years ago he had been moving from one cheap rented room to another, carrying everything he owned in a knapsack, stealing and hiring out as bodyguard or courier. Kenneth Dred had changed all that....
The front doorbell rang, which meant an identical bell rang here, as well as one in his own room. Bane went over to the console and turned on the monitor screen. Two men in suits were standing outside on 38th Street. He didn't recognize them, but they were carrying armloads of old books. Through the intercom, he said, "I'll be right with you," and unlocked the front door to let them into the tiny foyer. All his instincts were warning him. He had survived a dangerous life on the streets by listening to his instincts. The Dire Wolf came down the stairs to the first floor and stopped as he saw Slade by the front door.
The Trom was a bit taller than Bane, more powerfully built. He was wearing a dark jumpsuit fitted with numerous small pouches and pockets filled with tiny gadgets. Slade turned and regarded Bane with calm, intense eyes. "Allow me," he said. "I will test our new scanners." Swinging open a hinged wooden panel set a face level, Slade activated its screen and tapped three buttons. In the foyer where the visitors waited, Trom equipment more sophisticated than any MRI scan recorded every detail of the two men.
"No ID on our visitors," Slade said. "One is carrying an Army Colt .45 automatic in a belt holster. Both are registering elevated heart rates and excess adrenaline in their perspiration." The Trom opened the door and faced the two men. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" The two visitors twitched and looked up at him. One was an obvious thug, with a bull neck and one ear that had taken a pounding at some point. The neat suit and tie looked completely out of place on him, and he held a stack of four thick hardbound books as if he had no idea what they were. The other man was lugging a cardboard box with more old books, but he was middle-aged and rather worn-out looking, with mousy hair and watery blue eyes. He couldn't meet Bane's stare, but managed to say, "We have books for Kenneth Dred."
"Really," Slade said. "You know that Mr Dred passed away over a month ago?"
"No. I didn't know that," said the twitchy man. "We- uh, we were asked to bring these over. A man named Daniel Hartigan died and he left instructions to bring these books here. I guess they're old and rare..?
As the Dire Wolf watched from the foot of the stairs, Harry Werner stepped into the hall and said, "Here, look at this one." A low hiss sounded and a thin spray of almost colorless vapor shot out from the book at the Trom's face. Slade reacted with superhuman switfness, slapping the man aside with one hand while yanking the book away and throwing it into the foyer. Even before Werner hit the floor, Slade had slammed the door shut.
Bane was moving forward but Slade said, "Do not approach me yet," and hurried into the bathroom next to the stairs, closing the door behind him. For once, the Dire Wolf was at a loss about what had happened. He heard water running in the bathroom. Harry Werner was getting to his feet and staring at the front door in horror. Bane seized the man by the shirt front and yanked him forward off his feet, throwing the man to the ground. "I can see we are going to have some questions for you. Get up. Go in that room to your left." The Dire Wolf followed Werner into the reception room, which was sparsely furnished. There was an oak desk against one wall, a couch and six leatherbound chairs. Against the far wall was a waist-high bookcase with a fish tank on its top, and a beautiful hand-painted map of the world as it had been in 1937 hung over the desk. Bane threw the dazed man roughly onto the couch. "Stay put."
In the doorway, Leonard Slade appeared, toweling his head dry. "I should be safe to be near now," he said quietly. "That device released a pressurized stream of potassium cyanide. It was clearly an assassination attempt."
"Cyanide...? Len, are you okay? Don't you need medical treatment right away?"
"I am fine. My lungs sealed automatically and I drew on a reserve air bladder. Our experts have tried to prepare Monitors for any hostile situation," he said. "But the foyer is hazardous now, as most of the poison was released there. I am certain the other visitor is now dead."
Bane said nothing. He was still learning about his new teammates and he had just begun to realize how extensively Slade had been modified by his Race. "If you say so," he said, then turned to where Werner was staring with bulging eyes. "I guess you have some explaining to do, my friend."
"Cyanide? No, that's impossible. The Master told me it was dilute ether, that you would be just knocked out and we would be fine if we held our breaths for a minute. Now Jack is dead?" Werner started to rise but froze at a glare from the Dire Wolf.
"Looks to me like your so-called Master thought you were both expendable," Bane said. "Who are you working for?"
"I- I can't tell you. He'd kill me. Worse, he'd cut me off. I couldn't stand that."
Bane stepped closer, his voice icy. "Oh, you're going to talk. It's just a question of how soon. Your Master has no use for you now that you've failed."
The Trom left the room without explanation. He was going to activate the air filters in the hall and clear the gas from the sealed foyer to slowly dissipate outside, but he did not want to interfere with the questioning. Left behind with Werner, Bane stared at the man shrewdly.
"You're hooked on something," he said after a minute. "I recognize the signs. Heroin? Speed? Whatever it is, you're due for a dose. You just broke out in a sweat and your hands are shaking. I'll tell you this, you're not going anywhere until you talk so get ready for withdrawal."
Werner shook as if feverish. "You don't understand. You don't know what it's like."
"Just start with a name. Just a name," Bane demanded.
The miserable man blurted, "Golgora. That's all I know. I don't know where he's from or why he looks the way he does!"
"What do you mean, why he looks the way he does? Come on, talk and you can go."
"He looks like a monster. He looks like a living skull. Please, please, let me go. I need to get back."
Behind Bane, Ted Wright stood in the doorway. He was a solidly-built black man about forty, with some grey in his beard and a mournful face. The Blue Guide wore a suit without a tie, and he was pulling on the jacket as he entered. "What's going on here, Jeremy?" he demanded softly.
"You missed the excitement. This guy and a pal came here and sprayed poison gas at Len. He's okay, something about having an air bladder for emergencies. I'm getting some information from this character," Bane said.
"He's addicted to something strong. An opiate, perhaps." The Blue Guide stepped closer. "I'm Dr Wright. When was the last time you had your drug?"
"Hours ago. It wears off quicker each day. I need more."
Wright frowned. "The symptoms are mixed. Maybe I can help, but tell me exactly what you are on."
"I don't- I don't exactly. The Master gives it to us. He calls it yellow lotus. One of his men forced it on me and I was hooked." Werner started to convulse, as if about to throw up.
"Hold him down if you will," Wright said. As Bane pushed the man back against the couch, the Blue Guide dropped to one knee and lowered his head. A strange blue haze gathered around Werner, swirling almost like mist. It grew brighter, then sank into his body. Werner sighed and relaxed visibly.
"I strengthened his flow of lifeforce," Wright said. "The drug he's on is causing a lot of cardiac damage and his respiratory system is struggling. This won't last. I can stabilize him for now, but I want to take him to the ER and probably a rehab clinic."
"We need answers first," insisted Bane. "Who sent him here with a poison gas spray?"
"Oh my God, that's better. I feel like myself again. The chill in my bones is gone." Werner's voice was stronger and more assured. "Damn that Golgora. He gets men addicted to enslave them. I'll tell you where to find him. He has to be stopped, no matter what it takes."
"Oh, he'll be stopped," said the Dire Wolf. "I promise you that!"
III.
Ten minutes later, Bane went let Wright take Werner into the kitchen for a light meal. The yellow lotus addict was emaciated and dehydrated. He had learned the few details that Werner had known, not really as much as he would have liked. From the description, Golgora was a Nekrosan, from the adjacent realm of Perjena. They were a hermit Race who kept to themselves. One Nekrosan turned up in Paris around 1911 and another became a terrorist for the Nazis in 1940 under the handle Skull-Face, but few knew their origins. Most thought they were merely deformed and malicious Humans. Except for the grotesque faces, Nekrosim were identical to Humans in every important characteristic. They did tend to have a short lifespan of forty or so, aging rapidly after that point.
Pacing the reception room, the Dire Wolf tried to remember everything he had read about the Nekrosim. There were some sorcerors in the culture, but they certainly weren't on a par with the Darthim, and they did not have venomous fangs like the Snake men or immense strength like Trolls. Mostly, they were a threat because of their morbid culture with its death-worship and murderous ways. This Golgora had to be stopped before he wracked up a string of murders.
As Leonard Slade entered, Bane glanced up. "What's the situation, Len?"
"The foyer is now safe to enter unprotected. I have taken the body of the would-be assassin down to the basement. Unless you have other plans, I will dispose of it through disintegration."
"Go ahead." Bane regarded the Trom somberly. "You know, Len, I still tend to think of you as a regular human being, smarter than most and very calm and self-contained. But you're not, are you? You're a Trom."
"My Race was modified from Human stock back in the Darthan Age. Most of us are basically Human still except for our minds, but as a Monitor, I have been extensively modified." Slade went over and checked the temperature on the fish tank and Bane wondered if he was really interested in the fish or it was just a gesture he made to appear normal.
"The Teachers never just come out and say anything, but I'm sure they have decided to accept you as a student." The Dire Wolf watched Slade shake some fish food into the tank with precise hands. "Everyone benefits. Through you, the Trom get Tel Shai mystic knowledge. In return, the KDF gets access to some Trom technology."
"A mutually beneficial exchange," Slade agreed.
"See, I wanted to ask you about that helicopter you and Steve are working on out in New Mexico," Bane began but was interrupted as Ted Wright led Werner back into the room. "You look better," he said to Golgora's henchman.
"Jeremy, I have not cured Harry of his addiction," said Wright. "I have just placed him in a state of remission. Within a few hours, his system will start to crave the yellow lotus again. I must insist he be taken to the hospital."
"As soon as we settle things with Golgora," Bane said. "Harry! What's your decision about this?"
"I want to pay that bastard back for what he did to me. He deserves a painful death after the torture he put me through. I'm with you."
"There you go," said Bane. "Len, I would like you standing by in the area in case things go wrong, but keeping out of sight. I expect Golgora to be suspicious enough as it is. Ted, I'm going to need you come along as part of the deception. I want Golgora to think his assassination attempt almost succeeded..."
IV.
At 28th Street, Werner pulled up at the end of the block, not seeing any closer parking spots, and gestured to a big man in work clothes who had been reading a newspaper in a doorway. Leiber was one of Golgora's slaves, set on watch duty. He folded the newspaper and hurried over. Werner was struggling to try to haul a limp figure from the back seat, and the beefy Leiber easily yanked Bane out of the car, draped one arm around his shoulder and straightened up. Bane's head hung down loosely. He seemed completely unconscious, and Leiber held him up.
"Come on, Harry, take his other arm," the thug said. "Let's hustle through the lobby." They hauled Bane into the 20-story Brackett Building and caught an elevator just as the door opened. One or two businessmen passing through saw them, but decided to mind their own business. Maybe the guy being carried was drunk, maybe he had medical problems but in any case there was no reason to get involved. At the ninth floor, they stepped out into a wide hallway and an old man got up from his chair. "Leiber. Werner. You can go right in with your.. friend." The old man thumbed a button on the arm of the chair and a buzzer sounded. Behind the door with the brass plate TERMINUS CONSULTING, a lock clicked open.
The two henchmen carried Bane into a nearly empty room, where they dumped him on the floor. Even as he fell, weak as he was, the young Dire Wolf managed to land with one hand pressed flat to the floor and his legs together. There was a desk and chair against one wall, some strange statues on shelves and a chest-high brazier burning with red flame. In front of a wide picture window was a big solid chair, and in it sat Golgora. The skull-faced man no longer wore the expensive tailored suit with cravat, but had changed into a dark brown jumpsuit that had its legs tucked into polished jackboots. Holstered on his right side was a 9mm Luger and sheathed at his left was a commando knife with a nine inch blade. The Nekrosan rose to his feet, his bizarre smile growing even wider.
"This is not exactly following orders," he intoned in his hollow voice. "Did I not make my wishes clear, Werner?"
Harry Werner fell to his knees and pressed his face to the floor. "Forgive me, Master. I did not know what to do. There was a struggle. This man killed your other faithful servant and then he escaped all but a whiff of the gas. He was not dead but badly hurt, and I thought I should bring him here. Perhaps you may have questions for him?"
"Do not presume to think what I will or will not do," growled the skull-faced man. "And yet, this may turn out to be fortuitous." He knelt and seized Bane's wrist, listened by the Dire Wolf's mouth. "His pulse is slow and weak. His breathing labored. He is not merely pretending injury... which is well for him AND for you, Werner. If I thought you were trying to trick me...." Golgora felt Bane's pulse again and stood up. "I think he will live long enough to answer some questions. Yes. The heir to Kenneth Dred must have information I can use. Perhaps I will loot the famous house on 38th Street. There are some talismans said to be stored there."
Werner rose, head still lowered. Leiber said, "Master, what is your command?"
"You two? Wait in your quarters. I will summon you if needed. Here." From a slit pocket in his jumpsuit, Golgora handed them each a packet of the amber crystals. "Just a half dose for the moment. I may need your services yet and I do not want you lost in yellow lotus dreams." Both men thanked the Nekrosan profusely and hurried from the room.
On the street corner outside, Ted Wright gazed up at the ninth floor of the building where he could sense the Dire Wolf's essence. It had been with reluctance that he had agreed to subdue Bane's lifeforce, to reduce his vital signs and place him into a daze, but he knew it had been necessary. Now he reached out with his mind across the distance and brought Bane back up to normal levels. The Dire Wolf snapped back to full awareness. This had been a dangerous gambit, and it wasn't over yet. Very slowly, he turned his head and let out the faintest of groans. It was enough. Immediately, Golgora was crouching over him inches away.
"What's this?" came the ghoulish voice. "You seem to be more reslient than I expected. Good. Let's give you a few minutes. Karl Eldritch can wait for his trophy. You may be valuable to me first."
Bane eased one eye open the barest slit. Golgora had inserted a brown-paper cigarette into a slim holder and reached into pocket for a silver lighter. As he flicked open the lighter and touched the flame to the end of the cigarette, he was as distracted as he would ever be. Bane heaved up off the floor and lunged at the man faster than a real wolf could have, slamming headlong into his enemy. A vicious hook to the stomach doubled Golgora up, but the follow-up blow to the face was deflected by an outer block. The skull-faced man swept Bane's punch to one side and countered with an rigid open hand that cracked hard to the base of the Dire Wolf's neck. He was dazed for a second by that and Golgora added a straight punch to the chest that drove the Wolf back. The reprieve was only for an instant. Bane came in with a lightning flurry of alternating left-right punches that smacked home to Golgora's face and body from all directions.
The Nekosan raised his arms to defend his upper body, and Bane kicked his right shin as if he intended to break it, throwing the man with the floor. Golgora hit hard, rolled and went for his gun but, even as he drew it, Bane stamped down hard on that wrist and yanked the Luger away. On his back face up, Golgora swept his left leg up to his own face and swung it over to catch Bane across the chest, forcing him back. The Dire Wolf fell backwards, and the skull-faced man was up and pouncing upon him. Golgora ran right into an elbow to the face that nearly killed him and he sagged. Then Bane smashed him alongside the temple with the man's own gun and the fight was over.
Kneeling over the stunned Nekrosan, Bane yanked man's commando knife from his sheath and tossed it across the floor. The Luger he holstered in his own pocket. As Golgora moaned and stirred, Bane pinned him down with a knee to the center of the back. "Time for some explaining, mister. I know you're a Nekrosan. You people never leave your realm, yet here you are. What have you got against me?"
Even held down and battered, Golgora chuckled. "You really don't know? You are so ignorant, child. All the deadly enemies you inherited from Kenneth Dred, you don't even know their names. Wu Lung? Quilt? Arem Kamende? By the Great Mystery, you are in over your head, young man."
"Yeah, well, I learn fast. You mentioned Karl Eldritch. Let's start with him, okay?"
"Very well. Listen closely," Golgora said as he lowered his voice. It was an old trick and Bane almost fell for it. He leaned closer, easing the pressure just a bit that was holding his enemy down, and Golgora surged free. The Nekrosan was up and grabbing at the Dire Wolf with clawing fingers. Golgora was skilled and vicious, but Bane had the edge of enhanced speed that let him sidestep that attack and slam and savage rabbit punch to the back of the neck. The cracking noise was loud and decisive. Golgora rolled over and lay with his eyes open and unblinking, head bent far to one side.
Dead or alive, he looks about the same, Bane thought.
Going to the door, he threw it wide open and stood behind it. A second later, the guard named Leiber came rushing in. Bane had intended to spin the man around and knock him out, but Leiber hurried over to the body before whirling around. The revolver in his hand was already rising. Bane fired once with Golgora's Luger, catching the man right in the center of the face. Even as the body dropped, the Dire Wolf wiped off his own prints and pressed the Luger into Golgora's limp hand. Now to get out of here. Out in the hall, there was no sign of the elderly sentry was Harry Werner standing by the elevator.
"Time of get out of here," Bane snapped and pressed the button. As the cage opened, he dragged the bewildered Werner with him into the cage and hit the first floor button.
"Is he dead? What was that shot?"
"Golgora's lying there with a broken neck," the Dire Wolf said. "As for the guard, well, he drew on me. I claim self-defense in both cases." They got out at the lobby and were almost at the door when they looked back to see the old sentry and two more thugs running toward the elevator. "We'll worry about them later. Without a leader, I don't think they're much threat."
"I'm starting to feel shaky again," Werner muttered. "I saved the pack of yellow lotus that the Mas--that Golgora gave me."
"They'll need that for analysis, Harry. I'm turning you over to Dr Wright. You're in the best hands with him. He'll take you to the hospital and see if you can get into rehab right away."
As they hurried around the corner to where Ted Wright stood by his car, Werner's voice broke. "I tried to kill you- and you saved me. You saved me from drug addiction and slavery to a monster. I'll never be able to repay you."
"You never know," Bane said. "Maybe someday you can help me out of a tight spot. My part in this Midnight War is just kicking into gear."
3/12/2014
