19

Luther nodded and greeted the four High Council members who had come along: Glenn Muti, Marissa Menendez, Dick Cunningham, and of course, Bill Blagden. Why did some of the HC feel they had to be present at every pouring? He still hadn't figured out whether they were motivated by a sense of duty or sheer morbidity.

He pulled Jensen aside and lowered his voice.

"Everything ready?"

The big man nodded and rumbled, "All set."

"What about the man? Any trace of him?"

Jensen's already dark face darkened further. "It's like he's vanished off the face of the Earth."

"Well we both know he didn't do that. He has to be somewhere."

"But to find him I've got to know who he is. He's an onion. Every time I peel away one bogus identity, I find another."

"Please keep it down. I don't want the HC to know about this."

He could sense Jensen's frustration, but it was his rising volume that concerned Luther.

Jensen lowered his voice. "Okay, but who is this guy? It's like he doesn't exist. How can I find a guy who doesn't exist?"

"Stop obsessing. I have a feeling he'll come to us. Are you fully ready for him?"

"Of course."

Jensen opened his coat to reveal his omnipresent .44 Magnum in a shoulder holster. He had the size to carry the big weapon without showing a bulge.

Luther wondered if he should have brought his Beretta. He was licensed to carry and was an excellent shot. But he doubted he'd have to call on that skill. Especially here. Jensen had wanted to bring along a few of his TPs as security, but Luther had vetoed that. The fewer people who knew the final disposition of Jamie Grant, the better.

"Just be patient," Luther told him, "and it will all work out."

"Let's hope so."

Luther flicked a glance at the HC contingent, then at the cylindrical mold. "They don't know who's inside?"

"No. They think it's just another Null."

"And the original Null has been notified?"

Another nod. "She was heartbroken."

"She'll get over it."

"I promised her next time for sure."

The Compendium had been very specific: In order for a pillar to be valid, to be able to move Opus Omega closer to completion, someone had to die within it. A cadaver would not suffice. The person's life had to be extinguished within the pillar.

In the old days the pillars were solid stone that had to be quarried from specific locations—from stone found near nexus points. In those times a chamber would be hollowed out and a living person sealed within it.

Luther had modernized the process. Instead of stone he'd switched to concrete, but made with sand taken from areas close to nexus points. The sand in tonight's mixture had been taken from an Everglades cenote that housed a nexus point; it was particularly rich in Hokano influence.

He'd fashioned a mold of the proper size that would imprint the symbols in the surface of each pillar. All he had to do was fill it with the special mix Bill Blagden whipped up for him on demand and—voild—a new pillar.

Well, not quite. He needed that final, critical ingredient for each.

When he'd assumed the task of completing Opus Omega, he'd thought to look outside the Church among human flotsam and jetsam for lives to extinguish within the pillars, but that struck him as wrong. He would not sully Opus Omega with worthless lives.

To that end he had created the concept of the Null—the FA whose personal xelton had died. Without a viable PX within, fusion with the Hokano counterpart would be impossible.

Of course, Null status was never identified until the FA had invested a good amount of cash in climbing the FL. Luther made a point of selecting Nulls from the most devoted, most vulnerable—as determined from the interviews conducted after the completion of each rung—most cash-strapped FAs. Invariably they were crushed by the news and devastated by the realization that they would not survive the Great Fusion when this world joined with the Hokano world.

But wait… all was not lost. The Church had found a way to reanimate a dead PX. But Xelton Resurrection would require boundless faith, devotion, and courage. XR was being offered only to a few select Nulls deemed worthy of salvation. The XR process would not only revive their PX, but bestow immediate Fusion. They'd achieve FF status without climbing the FL, and be ready to face the GF with heads held high.

Every Null approached over the years had jumped at the chance.

Jensen was always the bearer of this good news. The chosen Null was not told the specifics of the XR process, just that he or she would be traveling to a secret destination for a special kind of missionary work, and would be absent for an indefinite period.

The members of the religion Luther had invented rarely failed to amaze him. A startling number of the XR Nulls climbed right into the cylinder and allowed themselves to be strapped in as if they were going on an amusement park ride. Not all, of course. The ones who developed cold feet when the moment arrived had to be drugged before they were placed in the mold.

Jamie Grant would have the honor of being the first non-Dormentalist to give up her life for the cause since Luther had taken over the Opus. He didn't want the HC members to know that, though. He didn't want to be bothered with their questions or have them start second-guessing him.

"I suppose it's time," he told Jensen. He nodded toward Bill Blagden, the owner of the plant. "I hope Bill remembered to add the accelerator. It's cold in here."

"All taken care of. He told me he added enough calcium chloride to cut set time by two-thirds."

"Excellent. Let's get it done then. But I want to pull the lever this time."

"Any special reason? You know Bill sees the lever as his duty."

"I know. But this woman insulted the Church in print—called us 'De-mentedists,' remember?—and was trying to destroy all that we've worked for. Decades of struggle would be negated if she'd been allowed to go public with what she'd learned. She has been a thorn in my side since she first darkened the temple's doorway. I claim the honor of sending this dangerous WA to her destiny."

Jensen nodded. "I'll tell Bill."

Luther had tried not to take Grant's ravings too personally. He didn't need to pull the lever himself. He could let Blagden have his usual fun. After all, the important thing was knowing that the bitch would never write or utter another critical word about the Church. That should have been enough.

But it wasn't.

20

Jamie heard a noise above as a shadow fell over her. She craned her neck and saw that a large chute had swung over the opening of the cylinder. She screamed through her gag and ducked her head as she saw the thick, wet, gray concrete begin to sluice toward her.

The pasty, lumpy stream missed her by inches, splattering and clattering instead against the cylinder wall before sliding to the floor.

As she watched it begin to collect just a few feet below her and rise like a riptide, she knew she had only seconds to live. A part of her had accepted the inevitable, but another part refused to give up. So she struggled against the ropes that bound her to the reinforcing rods, trying to slip one of the loops, but they'd been expertly tied… by someone who knew what he was doing… someone who'd done it before… and more than once…

Frantic, she looked around. On either side she saw a vertical seam. This cylinder wasn't a single piece, it was two half cylinders bound together. If she could push the side of one of those seams outward, bulge it just a little, maybe the rising concrete would seep through it, and maybe the increasing weight behind would further bulge the cylinder wall, maybe split the seam wider until the cement flowed out rather than up.