The next day, the basement room of Heartland Medical Center was ready. Maggie's coworkers had also brought the dismembered body parts, and the sweet smell of death had settled over the entire basement.
The night before, after Nikki's 'chance' meeting with Mike Fisher at the coffee shop, Nikki and Katherine had gone out to dinner at an Italian restaurant with a crowd not too young for Katherine and Nikki and not too old for Melanie. Nikki and Katherine had tried to talk to Melanie about everything but the case. Katherine had fortunately managed to steer the conversation halfway in one direction, talking about the work of a criminal psychologist and profiler without bringing up the dangerous maniacs and bestial sadists she and her family had dealt with. Instead, it was more harmless but exciting anecdotes like a Sherlock Holmes story.
Melanie, on the other hand, was most interested in the dark element. She had already asked Maggie questions the day before. The officer thought it was best if they had taken Maggie to dinner. But then again, maybe not.
When Nikki entered the basement of Heartland Medical Center alongside Katherine and Melanie, she was almost struck dumb. And it wasn't just the sweet smell of the corpse.
What Lyons and his team had created here with the help of Mike Fisher and Maggie seemed to come straight from the depths of hell. A mixture of Dante, William Burroughs' drug dreams, and Hieronymus Bosch garnished with decay, blood, and decomposition.
Chains hung from the pillars, from which in turn hung a severed hand and forearm of the corpse. The blood had run down the body parts over the pillars, it seemed and had formed dark red puddles on the dirty floor, and the damp, moldy walls, from which the plaster was crumbling, were also splattered with blood. The light from several spotlights cut through the dusty air and created dense, night-black shadows where the partly bright, partly diffuse light refracted on the musty walls, and no one would have been able to tell what was hiding behind them.
"Fantastic!" exclaimed Melanie. "You guys are awesome!"
Nikki nodded. And was irritated. But she took it as a compliment.
"I'm glad you ... like it," Lyons said to Melanie, a little embarrassed. "It was a lot of work, too. Come on, let's go to the prop room and then to make-up. We'll turn you into a scary demon woman that will take the audience's breath away!"
Nikki shook her head. Demon woman. She couldn't help feeling that this was all slipping away from her. But it was too late now anyway. Things were taking their course, and that could be a good thing.
When Melanie returned just over an hour later, Nikki was horrified. Lyons had promised that the props and his make-up artists would make a scary demon woman out of the girl, and that hadn't been an exaggeration.
Melanie was wearing black. Black stretch jeans and a black bustier that left her flat stomach and shoulders bare. Her hair was messed up in a wild hairstyle, highlights hanging down her forehead and into her pale face. So much eye shadow had been applied that it looked as if her eyes were deep in their sockets, her lips were painted blood red, and the lipstick in the left corner of her mouth was so smeared that at first glance, you would have thought she had drunk blood.
And that was the worst thing - there was blood all over her.
Of course, it was fake blood, not pig's blood and indeed not human blood, but the girl was covered in it all over.
"Well, Nikki?" Melanie asked with a beaming smile. "How do you like me?" She spun around once.
Nikki took a deep breath and furrowed her brows. "Not at all. But just right for our cause."
"It would be awesome," Melanie replied, "if I could get that again for the next Halloween party. I'd be the star there."
"You're star enough for now," Lyons replied. "Here: the most important prop." He had one of the assistants hand him a heavy object. "I hope you can hold it halfway?"
"Is that a --," Nikki asked, not believing her eyes, "a chainsaw?"
"Melanie must have cut up the body with something," Lyons said, and it sounded like an apology. "A bone saw would be smaller, but we went with a classic chainsaw since they're only available in medical supplies. It also fits the horror genre best."
"A gasoline chainsaw," Katherine noted and asked Nikki: "Did you know that the gasoline chainsaw is a German invention? In the 1920s, the Stihl Type A tree-cutting machine was launched on the market and became an export hit, selling mainly in Russia, the United States, and Canada. Then came the Contra model. Known all over the world. The Swabian company Stihl still produces chainsaws today. And is still the world market leader today." She pointed to the tool in Melanie's hands. "That's also a Stihl."
"There was a similar one in Chainsaw Massacre Part 3," Lyons added, "a 606 Magnum."
"Jesus Christ." Nikki looked at Lyons with wide eyes. "What's Melanie supposed to do with that thing? It's far too dangerous!"
"Just hold it in your hand. Don't worry, it won't run, there's no gas in it. We'll take a few close-ups of the running saw later, but without Melanie having to hold it. That's too dangerous. And we'll record the sound of this thing afterward." He turned to Melanie. "Or is it too heavy?"
"No, not at all," the girl assured him, although the chainsaw was too heavy for her.
"You can hold it with both hands," Katherine said with a furrowed brow, "you're not Leatherface." She turned to her niece. "That's the killer from Texas Chain Massacre."
Nikki rolled her eyes. "I figured that wasn't a Nobel Prize winner."
"The saw is the law," Lyons muttered."
Nikki turned around vigorously. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing. It used to be a song by the band Sodom."
"So," Nikki said with a deep sigh, "let's get started! Slate, or how do you say it in the movie industry?"
"That's right!" Lyons clapped his hands. "Head slate and The saw is the law!"
The filming began. Folding chairs had been provided for Katherine, Nikki, Mike Fisher, and Maggie. You could tell that Maggie was watching what was happening to her body very closely but also skeptically.
Melanie and the film crew got started. Melanie, in her gruesomely bloody outfit, had to get into position right between the bloodied pillars with the severed body parts. Lyons proved his multitasking skills by acting as producer, co-writer, executive producer, and line producer and taking over the clapperboard. He held it in front of the camera and shouted: "Camera! Sound!"
"Camera running!" he was told.
"Sound on!"
"Lady Báthory, the first one!" shouted Lyons, slamming the clapperboard shut and stepping out of the frame. "And action!"
"My soul is a dark sea," Melanie began, taking a step forward as she had practiced earlier. "That's where the term soul comes from the sea. Infinitely black. And infinitely evil. Look around you --"
"Cut!" shouted Lyons. "Super Melanie, that was great!"
"The scene is in the can!" reported the camerawoman.
Melanie had memorized the text that Lyons, Katherine, and Mike Fisher had worked out and then discussed with Elizabeth, Maggie, and Nikki in the hotel room. It was a long text, and Elizabeth suggested Melanie read it from a teleprompter as the newsreaders did on television. But Melanie had memorized the whole text because she thought it would be more authentic.
"Okay," Lyons said now. "And now the body parts on the pillars come into the picture, a little blurred and shaky, but then focus and hold it." He looked at Maggie. "Then even if this God of Blood freezes the image, he'll be able to see exactly that these are real body parts. Good, right?"
Maggie nodded in her director's chair. "Very good. After all, the corpse is mine."
Nikki grinned wryly and rolled her eyes.
"In position, Melanie!" ordered Lyons.
The same procedure followed as before: Camera - sound - action!
"My art of death," said Melanie. "If you want to understand the artist, you have to look at his work. And I'll show you my work, oh great God of Blood --"
Nikki looked at Katherine. She watched intently. Nikki's cell phone buzzed. A text from Elizabeth. The officer nodded to the psychiatrist.
Katherine made a face. "Somehow, the lieutenant keeps bugging us while we're filming," she growled. "But fine, let's go."
"We'll be right back," Nikki said, leaving the basement with her aunt.
"Christopher Barron," Elizabeth said on the phone, "Secretary of State. A model politician."
Nikki furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she stared at the cell phone. She had put the call on speaker. "And what about him?"
"Milton and Mayer tracked down a recipient of that DVD the God of Blood was selling."
"One of those snuff movies?" Katherine inquired.
"That's right."
"We were just talking about de Sade."
"Marquise de Sade?" Elizabeth wanted to know. "The one who wrote his book in prison?"
"Yes, he talks about how the violence inflicted on others also makes your nerves vibrate. As if he had already foreseen snuff movies back then."
"If there had been any back then, de Sade would certainly have made some himself," growled Elizabeth. "But good for us if the perverted customers can't handle payment details."
"Oh?" said Katherine, looking at her niece with furrowed brows. "He's the one with the credit card?"
"Yes, he was a bit careless and paid a partial amount of coins with a credit card, and the FBI was able to trace them. Nikki, I'll send you a link from Milton and Mayer to your smartphone in a minute."
Nikki made a face. "I'm curious," she said. The video showed a squad from the RRT. Shot in a similar way to war reports with embedded journalists or the helmet cameras the Green Berets had worn when they shot Bin Laden. The next thing you saw was a door, then a pile driver hitting the door and ripping it off its hinges. Beams of light eat their way through the room. Gun muzzles that secured the rooms.
"Someone wants to know," Nikki said with a furrowed brow. "Where exactly is this?"
"Florida," Elizabeth replied. "Near Tampa."
"And this guy buys snuff movies? You seem to make good money as secretary of state," Katherine remarked.
"According to Milton, he must have raised enough cash through kickbacks to afford such an expensive hobby as snuff movies. It all came together because of privatization in the last few years.
"Still, it was pretty quick for him to get caught," Nikki replied with an arched brow.
"The guy's been noticed before," Elizabeth explained. "A task force of ours and the Canadians have been on this bastard before. The Canadians had put synthetic child porn on the Internet as a lure. A so-called honeypot. The FBI had already informed their colleagues in Florida at the time. At the time, his lawyer was able to brush it off. Now he's advised him to cooperate."
"And where was the DVD?" Nikki asked tightly. "The snuff movie?"
"In his safe in his private house."
"And what's on it?"
"The video shows the murder of two prostitutes," replied Elizabeth.
It's always women, Nikki thought. Katherine had once said that fantasies of domination often arose out of loneliness. And almost always, at least with serial killers, the murder had sexual reasons.
Jeffrey Dahmer, the cannibal from Milwaukee, had hooked up gays in bars, anesthetized them at home, raped them, killed them, and dissected them. He had made altars and shrines from the cooked skeletons while keeping the heads and entrails in the fridge. Some he had even drilled open the top of their skulls while they were fully conscious and dripped acid into their brains, believing this would turn them into mindless pleasure zombies. Dahmer said he felt lonely, and if he couldn't have the living around him, he at least wanted to have the dead in his company. Nikki didn't envy Barron, even if she didn't feel sorry for him. Guys like that were quickly put to death in prison, especially if they were also pedophiles. Dahmer had also died in prison, in a 'non-natural way,' Maggie would add, killed by a fellow inmate who had rammed a broomstick through his eye and into his brain, or something like that.
"And there's something else," Elizabeth continued.
Nikki took a deep breath. "And what?"
"The interesting thing is that in the background of one scene in the video, you can see the symbol with the scythes or the skull. A copy of it has been in circulation elsewhere and has been in the Tampa Homicide Department's poison cabinet ever since, confiscated after the murders of the prostitutes. One of the two women was able to escape at the time."
"But nobody caught the perpetrator?"
"No. The God of Blood symbol was only noticed after the Quincy Market massacre. No one paid attention to it before that." Elizabeth huffed in frustration.
"And the one prostitute?" Nikki asked, frowning deeply. "The one who survived. She could and yet --"
"She could if she was still alive," Elizabeth interrupted her daughter. "She overdosed a year ago."
Katherine pressed her lips together and shook her head. "That means God of Blood has been doing this for a while," Katherine stated, frowning slightly.
"And now we know," Nikki added, "where he gets the money he uses to manipulate his disciples. By selling expensive snuff movies. Is there any way we can get closer to the God of Blood through this Barron?"
The lieutenant paused for a moment. "I hope so," she said, "the colleagues are turning Barron's whole house upside down."
"And the DVD?"
"What about it? It says here that he kept it in the same envelope it was sent in."
"Strange," said Katherine, looking at her niece, "but it certainly doesn't say sender: God of Blood."
"Nevertheless," Nikki replied with furrowed brows, "the colleagues should look closer at this envelope. Often, the clearest clues are hidden where you wouldn't expect them."
"You think so?" asked Elizabeth."
Katherine nodded slowly, even though her sister couldn't see her. "That's what I mean, too. It says something like that in Edgar Allan Poe."