The paladin had been onsite for a week. He’d chosen the ideal method for identifying who went in and who came out of the mysterious facility. Although he didn’t stare into windshields at the cars parked obediently in front of his Stop sign, he gave them all a thorough going-over without being obvious about it. He estimated that there were a couple of dozen lab technicians because he came to recognize their cars as they went to work each morning and headed for home at night. He could also identify a BMW that probably belonged to the lab’s director—an Arab who favored expensive suits and flashy jewelry. He’d made a note of the license plate, so he could check out the owner later. Everybody’s routine was fairly predictable except for one car. It was a black sedan with livery plates driven by a nondescript suit. He would arrive at odd hours—probably running personal errands for the director.
Erik snapped out of his reverie when he saw the very black sedan he’d been thinking about approach. Luckily, his sign was set to “Stop” so he had time to take a closer look. The driver had a passenger with him for a change. The paladin tried not to register shock when he realized it was a Nephilim woman. He recognized her by the weird hairdo, grey smock, and white apron. They all dressed alike and wore their hair braided and coiled around their heads like a giant beehive.
She appeared young though not a teenager. Pale and thin. Maybe in her twenties. Definitely not a looker. His walkie-talkie squawked, telling him to let the incoming traffic through. He reversed his sign to “Slow” and motioned the car forward. The woman gazed listlessly out the side window. She didn’t seem to notice his presence as the sedan glided by.
His eyes narrowed as he watched the back of the car receding down the road. This time he made a point of memorizing its plate number.
“They go in, but they never come out.”
He swung around to identify who had spoken to him. It was a middle-aged hard hat with a beer belly and a black moustache. He was leaning on a shovel.
“Huh?”
The hard hat gestured toward the retreating car. “I said they go in, but they never come out. I mean the funny looking ones.”
Erik took a few steps toward him. “Which funny looking ones?”
The man shrugged. “The guys wear black suits—like extras from a Cold War spy movie. The dames wear grey dresses, and their hair is wound around their heads tight as a corkscrew. It’s always the same driver though. He takes them in, but I never see them come out. He always comes out alone. You watch next time. You’ll see.”
“How come you know so much about it?” Erik challenged.
“Cause I used to have your job before I got promoted.” He held up his shovel and laughed ruefully. “You go out of your mind standing here baking in the sun if you don’t find a way to kill the time. I used to make a game out of it. Count the weirdos.”
Erik gave a friendly smile. “So how many weirdos did you count?”
The man scratched his head. “I think I lost track after the first three dozen.”
“That’s a lot of weirdos.”
“Between you and me I hope we finish this job soon. That underground place gives me the creeps. Some days the smell coming out of there is worse than the asphalt.”
Erik raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t notice anything since I got here.”
“You ain’t been here long enough. Wait a little. They got some kind of incinerator going down there. I don’t know what they’re burning, but it smells like rotten meat.”
“You’re kidding.”
The hard had held up his hand. “Swear to God. You hang around a while. You’ll see, and smell, for yourself.”
Erik nodded as the man shouldered his shovel and wandered off to spread fresh asphalt.
His casual comments made the paladin’s mind race with possibilities. Hannah had already told Faye that some kind of experiments were going on in the lab. An incinerator would be needed to get rid of the carcasses of dead animals except Erik now had a suspicion that the lab was experimenting on something a lot bigger than guinea pigs and rats. He had to find out exactly what was going on in there. The Nephilim driver probably knew at least a few of the answers. The paladin felt an overwhelming need to make the chauffeur’s acquaintance.
Chapter 46 —Azrael’s Apprentice
Doctor Aboud checked his appearance in the mirror on his office wall. He smoothed his hair and dusted a speck of lint off the front of his clean white lab coat. He usually changed into his hazmat gear later in order to avoid alarming his test subjects upon arrival. First impressions were important. He gave a nod of approval to his reflection and headed for the underground facility’s reception area to wait.
He’d gone through this charade many times before. Metcalf’s hand-picked sacrificial lambs were sent to him one at a time to avoid frightening the entire flock. How many had been slaughtered thus far? The doctor had lost count. Three dozen at least. Each one entered the facility warily, but Aboud would give a friendly smile and immediately put them at ease. He would explain that the diviner had chosen them to test a new type of medicine which was to benefit the Nephilim brotherhood and prevent them from catching a disease that was common among the Fallen. There was absolutely nothing to worry about, and the test subjects would receive a special reward in exchange for their participation. It was critical not to arouse their suspicions. He imagined that the personnel overseeing the showers at Auschwitz used much the same approach. Once people deduced that
