Chapter 7
In his cozy brownstone in Georgetown, Ducky felt warm, if not entirely secure. The strange markings on the latest Autopsy guest kept entering his mind, despite his efforts to chase them out. I am on my own time, now. I am not paid to speculate after hours. Relaxation is what keeps the soul limber; not work-work-work!
He picked up the book he had started last week and sat beside his fireplace, a fine cup of tea close at hand. But still, reading about the First World War could not hold his attention. He nibbled a biscuit; one of a British type his supermarket imported. Even after so many years in the US, he missed the little reminders of Home, as he still thought of Scotland.
There was an interesting pattern stamped onto the biscuit, and he studied that. Whirls and stars of many points, and…chakras. That was it. That was what he had seen on the unfortunate young Sgt. James' body. He pursed his lips. It was not a thing that one expected to find in the West Virginia Appalachian Mountains, but then the world was shrinking every day. Forty years ago, would he have been able to find these biscuits in his store? He thought not.
People feared what they did not know. Ducky didn't fear the practices of any religion; he soberly respected that which he did not believe in. But torture and murder of innocents…that went beyond the worthy gains of any respectable religion. There was right and there was wrong, and this was very, very wrong.
"I should go into NCIS," he said aloud; a habit he had taken up in his empty house after his mother had gone to the rest home and her blasted Corgis had found a new home. He didn't think it amiss. It was his house, to do with as was his wont. "I need to look at the files. Buried in there is a case…similar, perhaps…"
He broke off, arguing with himself in his mind. It was already late, and the snow was still coming down. It could all wait until morning.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Hours passed. Tim and Vance ached in their uncomfortable positions. Then…
"It is time." The leader's low-pitched voice carried across Autopsy, from the doorway where he rose with his group of followers to the wall of drawers where Tim and Vance were handcuffed. "We will begin."
The beginning of the end, Tim thought with horror, and then tried to will calm and strength into his system. He knew that in a panicked state, his ability to escape would be next to nil. With his mind focused, however…well, he'd at least be open to possibilities. Nonetheless, he didn't meet Vance's eyes.
"Easy, Tim," Vance whispered, as if reading his mind. "I fully intend to get out of this, and I'm sure you want to, too. I've got a wife and kids counting on me to come home."
That cheered Tim a little. Don't just think of yourself. Think of the ones who are counting on you to stay alive. Mom, Dad, Sarah…
His thoughts ended there as a strong, gloved hand grabbed his right wrist roughly and held it tight, stretched out, in order to open the handcuff. Tim didn't have to speculate that attempting anything now would not be wise. There were too many of these tantrist followers around, and his left wrist was still…Before he could finish that thought, another man had opened the handcuffs on his left wrist and quickly secured both of his hands behind his back.
"Why do we need both?" asked one of the men. "One more to guard, needlessly. We have the strength in this one."
Tim then risked a glance at Vance, still handcuffed to the drawers. He felt a pang of pity for the man. If I have to die, why should the Director have to witness that gruesome scene? Again, he forced himself not to succumb to despair. We'll get out of this. We will. We have family depending on us.
The leader spoke. "We will take both. It is in my vision." He signaled that Vance should freed from the drawers.
"Where are we taking them?"
"I have sensed a place that will suffice. It is not far. A place of symbolic power for the Navy, here…a ship…"
Now Tim and Vance did lock eyes, appalled. The USS Barry as a site for a sacrifice!
In peculiar kindness (if it could be called that), Tim was unhandcuffed long enough to put his clothes back on. Perhaps the tantrists feared that he might fall down, dead, before getting to the Barry in the snowstorm if he was clad only in his boxers. He had a fleeting thought that he really, really should have just stayed at home today with his walking pneumonia. Next time I won't be so anxious to come in…next time.
They were marched out of Autopsy, up the ramp, and out of the building. Snow swirled around them in the bitter cold. It was deep enough now that their shoes sank completely in it, adding the indignity of wet socks to their ordeal.
Vance and Tim knew that there were no guards, no staff on the Barry at night. At one time, there had been. Thank God for budget cuts. No point in having anyone else in danger. This didn't mean, though, that the Barry was defenseless. To ward against troublemakers who might get into the Yard, the gangplank had a heavy chain at the pier end, and there were alarms on the ship itself.
Would that be enough? If the alarms were tripped, would that bring anyone? Even a snowstorm would not shut down the Navy Yard. There were always people here. Maybe someone would come.
If they heard. If they decided to investigate.
"Good ship," Vance murmured. "Good ship. Take care of us, girl."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
As the storm swirled snow wildly around them, Tim began to wonder what was taking them so long. They'd been standing outside for ten minutes...waiting. Not that he was in any hurry to get to the site of his sacrifice, but it was cold out here. There was a reason why DC had battened down the hatches as the storm came through. Then, one of their captors joined them with a pair of bolt cutters in his hands. The leader gestured and he stepped forward and cut the heavy chains blocking their access.
Where had the bolt cutters come from? Had they brought them along?
How did they know? Tim asked himself.
Then, one of the men hurried up the gangplank and vanished from view. Tim began shivering in the wind and snow, but he noticed that the leader, wearing nothing to protect him from the elements, seemed completely unperturbed by the storm. Considering the fact that he led a group of psychotic murderers, it was strange that he could put off an air of serenity and acceptance of anything that might come to him. Tim was almost envious.
The man returned to the group and nodded. The leader gestured and then headed forward onto the ship. Tim and Vance were prodded to follow and walked up the steep gangplank into the area normally used to begin the tour. Tim had gone on the tour before and enjoyed seeing all the parts of the ship. Now, however, he only wished that he was home in bed. The sights held no enjoyment for him.
They paused in the first room. Tim's handcuffs were removed and he again was stripped. Only this time they didn't even leave him his boxers. He was stark naked. Tim felt utterly humiliated at the prospect of being naked in public. The woman who had searched him before, looked him up and down with a lustful smile on her face. Tim flushed and looked away. It was bad enough that he had to stand here nude, but to be so openly appraised...
"He will do," she said in a low voice, barely audible above the sound of the wind. "He will do very well."
The leader joined the woman and put his hand over Tim's heart, fingers spread wide, eyes boring into Tim's.
"Yes. He is a worthy substitute. We must not begin here. Come."
Tim was cuffed once again. During all of this, Vance had remained silent, almost docile. Tim didn't dare look at him. Yes, he was relying on Vance to get them out of this, but his embarrassment kept him from making eye contact. He could only hope that Vance had a plan in mind.
I sure don't.
The group moved forward again, out into the snow, onto the deck. For a wild moment, Tim wondered if they would be taking the tour before the human sacrifice. ...but no, they bypassed going below decks, choosing instead to cut the chains and ropes directing the tour, making their way slowly to the front of the ship, breaking through the drifts of snow forming on the starboard side. Tim's bare feet felt numb and his whole body shook with the cold. He actually felt relieved when they broke into the bridge. He was still freezing, but at least he was out of the wind.
"The other must be restrained."
The soft order garnered instant obedience. Tim looked at Vance for the first time since coming aboard. He was expressionless as they dragged him to one of the support poles and cuffed him securely with his hands behind his back.
Too securely. Tim couldn't see how they would get out of this.
"Now, release the sacrifice."
Tim felt the cuffs removed and his hands, feeling like lead weights, dropped to his sides. He wasn't panicked now. He felt so terrified that his mind was as numb as his toes.
The leader came and stood before him, drawing Tim's eyes almost irresistibly to his own. Tim seemed to fall into those eyes, forgetting to tense as two of the men grabbed his arms and held him tightly, forgetting to be embarrassed by his current state of undress...forgetting everything but the power of those eyes.
"Through you, we draw the power of those who rule the waters. Through you comes the strength of the sea."
The voice seemed to echo inside his head. Somehow, Tim found himself nodding silently in agreement.
"Good."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Vance watched with growing worry as Tim's body grew slack. He'd heard of the idea of mesmerism and people who knew how to bend a mind to their will, but this was the first time he'd ever seen it happen. It was different from the stage hypnotists who used their abilities to entertain. The minutes lengthened as the leader maintained eye contact with Tim, speaking almost inaudibly to him, never looking away from him. Tim had resisted it briefly but had slowly stopped resisting. He seemed almost somnolent as they positioned him facing the window. All attention was now on the bizarre scene taking place. Vance sensed that he was completely forgotten. Every one of the tantrists were focused on the leader and on Tim. Vance might as well be part of the furniture.
They would only have one shot at this...and if Tim didn't break out of this trance or whatever, it would be hard to save him. It was going to be hard enough with it six to two. Still, what did they have to lose? Tim would die rather painfully and Vance was under no illusion about what they would do to him. He didn't have any idea why they'd brought him along anyway. However, since they had...
He began shifting his watch around his wrist. Smart these people might be, prepared, well-armed...but they didn't know how to put on handcuffs. He could easily undo his watch and use it to pick the lock, something he still remembered from his more classified days. Keeping his eye on his captors...and on Tim who was still standing blankly while the others clustered around him... Vance began to carefully arrange his hands to best aid him in getting free.
He wanted to rush, but he couldn't risk dropping his watch...and he still wasn't quite sure how all this would work. He was unarmed. Tim was completely naked. Their captors were armed...and almost all of them well-clothed. The one who wasn't didn't seem to mind...unlike Tim who would likely mind quite a bit about running naked in the storm.
"Hold him," the leader said and turned around, away from Vance. When he turned back, he again had that strange knife in his hands.
"Why...doing this?" Tim mumbled, clearly fighting against the trance.
...but that doesn't make sense, Vance thought, momentarily distracted. People can't be hypnotized against their will, can they? They have to be willing, don't they? ...and Tim wouldn't be willing to give in to these guys.
"We will stop the cycle for us...and through us for all who are waiting. One death means nothing."
"Not...just...one."
"True, but it is true enough not to be a lie. Your death gives us the power to break the power of the world, bend it to our will. We use that power to free ourselves from the karmic cycle."
It was all true, Vance realized. What Tim had told him about the Left-Hand Path and their ultimate goals sounded insane, but it was true.
He redoubled his efforts to pick the lock on his cuffs. It wasn't the picking that was hard. It was getting the tongue of his watch to the hole that gave him some difficulty.
"Crazy..." Tim said and made a slight effort to move...he failed.
"Perhaps we are, but we will be free, no longer prisoners to mortal life. It is worth insanity to be free."
A-ha! Vance triumphed silently as he found the keyhole and began to pick the lock. His fingers remembered what to do and he was free in seconds. He made sure that the cuffs made no sound after the welcome soft click.
Okay, I'm free...but Tim isn't. Have to get him away, but will he be able to run?
"You will feel the power gather within you," the leader said. "We will center it within you and draw it out with your blood. It will become fixed inside us."
"No," Tim said and pulled away, just a little.
"You have the strength inside you as you claimed. You will have more." He smiled. "Briefly."
Vance saw Tim begin to feebly struggle against those who were holding him. That gave Vance more hope. He looked at the man and woman nearest to him. Both were armed, but neither were paying attention to anything but the ceremony. All but the leader and the woman who seemed designated to receive Tim's blood began to chant softly, swaying to some unheard rhythm.
Then, Vance knew he could no longer take the time to plan. The leader, who had moved almost languidly up to this point suddenly attacked as swiftly and silently as a snake, striking at Tim's chest with the knife in his hand. Tim's lassitude vanished and he screamed and fought against the arms restraining him. Vance couldn't see what was being done, but based on what he had see on Sergeant James, he was certain that it had to be stopped as soon as possible if Tim was going to live to see another day.
Tim managed to wrench one of his arms away from his captors, suddenly a lot stronger than he had been before.
This was the moment. No more waiting.
Vance picked out two targets and a convenient weapon, tensed and then moved...and gave Tim the only notice he could.
"Semper fi!" he shouted and lunged forward, inwardly praying that this would work.
