the world.
The right back room was a combination kitchen and dining room area.
The second floor was reserved for a double set of private living quarters. Neal said, “It’s split in two. One half is Prewitt’s, the other belongs to Ingrid Thaler, his second- in-command.”
Prewitt’s rooms were stark, spare, ascetic, almost monklike in their spartan simplicity. There was a copy of his book on the bedside night table, another on his writing desk and a third on a small bookshelf that also contained copies of Plato’s Republic, the Bible, a complete edition of Shakespeare’s works, a dictionary and thesaurus.
Ingrid Thaler’s suite was tastefully decorated, handsomely appointed, and expensively furnished. She certainly didn’t lack for any of the creature comforts. One room was filled with nothing but her clothes, shoes, and accessories. The suite was bare of any copies of Prewitt’s book. Her boudoir— you couldn’t call it a bedroom, it was too luxurious for that — featured a photograph in a silver frame prominently displayed on top of a dresser cabinet. It depicted a glamorous woman in her forties with an upswept blond hairstyle, cool level eyes, a sensuous mouth, and a lot of strong jaw and determined chin.
Jack said, “Is that her?”
Neal nodded. “That’s Madame Thaler.”
“She doesn’t like herself too much, keeping a framed photo of herself on the bureau. Is she Prewitt’s mistress?”
Neal shrugged. “Nobody knows. That’s one of the cult’s best-kept secrets. But it’s no secret that she’s his lieutenant, his enforcer, chief executive officer, number two in the hierarchy. She sees that the great man’s word becomes law among his followers. The compound is for the Zealots’ leadership cadre, their inner circle. The outer circle, the rank and file, live in their own private homes. There’s hundreds of them, a large part of whom live in this state.”
Jack said, “So there’s a good potential depth of backfield on short notice if Prewitt needs to call them up.”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
Nothing in the upstairs living quarters showed any signs of violence, chaos, or disorder. It was as if their owners had just stepped out for a minute.
Jack and Neal went downstairs and outside, standing on the front porch. Neal got out a pack of cigarettes. “Smoke?”
Jack said, “No, thanks.”
Neal shook loose a cigarette and lit up. He said after a pause, “Anything about the scene speak to you?”
Jack shook his head. “Nothing yet. Weird. Maybe they had some kind of palace coup or something.”
Neal said, “That’s as good a theory as any. But where did they all go? And why?”
The admin building was bracketed by a pair of identical one-story, cabin-style structures. Neal indicated first the one on the south, then the one to the north. “That’s the men’s barracks, the other’s the women’s barracks. Prewitt doesn’t just have some funny ideas about economics, he’s got some about sex, too.”
Jack said, “Do tell.”
“To be in the leadership cadre at Red Notch, you’ve got to dissolve all previous relationships. A married couple can’t stay married, at least not to each other. The men bunk in one barracks, the women in another. From time to time Prewitt, or more precisely Ingrid, pairs up a couple to, as they put up, gratify their natural physical urges. There’s a couple of smaller bungalow units for their conjugal visitations. That’s usually a reward for some meritorious service to the cult. They keep juggling the partners around to keep any permanent relationships from forming. The only permanent relationship that’s allowed is to the cause of Zealotry.”
“No children in the compound?”
“No, they’re too smart for that. With all that partner-swapping going on, they won’t risk any charges like child endangerment or contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Prewitt’s done time on a tax rap once; since then, he’s been damned careful not to give the law any cause to go poking around in the compound.”
Jack said, “Until now, on the eve of the Round Table.”
Neal said, “Even then, there’s not much to go on. The Zealots are free to come and go as they please, there’s no law against that. The broken glass and bloodstains and bullet holes are suspicious, but a good lawyer could probably explain them away. Especially with the Zealots cooperating in the cover-up. They could always claim a party got out of hand or somebody had a shooting accident or something. Luckily the Sky Mount conference gives us a loophole to go poking around on national security grounds.”
Neal finished his cigarette. He stubbed it out and put the butt in his jacket pocket, explaining, “Force of habit. Even though the criminalistics crew has been over the site, I can’t bring myself to litter the scene.”
Jack said, “You mentioned bullet holes. You mean the light shot out here?”
Neal said, “There’s some more at the men’s barracks. Looks like they had a pretty good brawl over there. Want to take a look?”
“Yeah.”
Jack and Neal went down the stairs to ground level and started toward the barracks. Jack glanced back over his shoulder at the admin building, all ablaze with electric lights. He said, “I feel funny about not shutting off the lights.”
Neal said, “When we’re done here I’ll shut off the generator. That’ll kill all the lights. Personally I’m happy with as much light as we can get.”
“You’ve got a point there.”
The men’s barracks was a large single room shoebox-shaped cabin with whitewashed wooden walls and a peaked shingled roof. It fronted east, like all the buildings in the compound, as if they were deliberately turning their backs on the alien other-worldliness of the sandstone piles. Its long axis was east-west, so that its short side faced front.
The upper half of the front door consisted of four framed glass panes; they were all broken. A horizontal line of a half-dozen bullet holes pierced the wall to the left of the door below the window cell. On the right side, one of the windowpanes displayed a bullet hole with a corona of spidery cracks. Jack said, “Some party.”
He and Neal went inside. An open central aisle was flanked on either side by rows of double-decker bunk beds set at right angles to the center space. Gray metal wardrobe cabinets like gym lockers stood against the far walls between the bunk beds. The floor was uncarpeted wood.
There were bloodstains on the floor and some of the mattresses. A couple of the bunk beds were askew and some of the walls were pocked with bullet holes. Neal said, “Yeah, some party.”
He and Jack went back outside. Some bats flitted out from under the eaves, whirling and pinwheeling aloft in seemingly random, zigzag patterns. Jack’s hand was under his coat, touching the butt of the gun holstered under his arm. Neal saw it and grinned. Jack grinned, too, a bit sheepishly, bringing his hand out empty and letting it fall to his side.
Neal pointed out the next buildings south of the barracks. “The near one’s the mess hall and the barn next to it is the garage where they kept the blue bus.”
They started toward the mess hall. Neal said, “Here’s where the Zealots get their chow. Not Prewitt and Ingrid, though. They’ve got a private chef to rustle up their meals in the kitchen in the admin building.”
Jack said, “Rank has its privileges.”
The mess hall was a shedlike structure whose long side fronted east. Jack and Neal were closing on it when rattling sounded in back of the building.
The two men froze. Silence reigned for a few heartbeats, only to be broken by a soft metal clangor. Jack whispered, “Don’t tell me that was bats.”
Furtive rustling and rattling sounds came from behind the mess hall. Jack’s semi-automatic pistol, a 9mm Beretta, was in his hand; he didn’t even remember drawing it. Neal’s gun was drawn, too, a.357 magnum revolver with a shiny metal finish. He said, low- voiced, “It could be a bear.”
Jack’s face must have reflected his scepticism. Neal said, “No kidding, the mountains are overrun with black and brown bears. Hunts have been curtailed for years because of environmental politics, and the bear population is out of control. Familiarity breeds contempt, and they’re not afraid of men.”
Jack said, “Let’s find out. I’ll go the long way around the mess hall, so give me a minute to get in place. If it’s a man, we’ll take him.”
