CHAPTER 36

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Abraham was still sitting in the dark. Time was meaningless when you were tied to an uncomfortable chair, your wrists and hands numb from the bindings, your sides aching from what you were pretty certain were broken ribs, when your world was pitch blackness except for when your captors came to beat you.

Abraham had lost all sense of time. He tried to focus on things. The distant dripping of water he could hear somewhere in the impenetrable darkness. He tried to count the drops to give his mind something to focus on. The Mossad had trained him to resist interrogation and torture. He thought his training was working pretty well. He couldn't be absolutely certain of it because huge swathes of his time here were simply gone from his memory and that probably meant he had been drugged. He knew they had waterboarded him several times. He couldn't remember much beyond the initiation of each sequence, though. The intervals between the beginnings and endings of these events were just like his surroundings; blank. For all he knew, he had told them everything they wanted. That might explain why they hadn't been back in such a long time.

He wasn't even completely certain about what they wanted to know. A little part of him suspected they were just interrogating him because he was Jewish.

They wanted to know about a creature. A monster. The thing they called it. They described it to him and it sounded ridiculous. Then his thoughts drifted back to the interrogation that Razmik had been performing on the pilot. He thought about the intruder that had come to kill the pilot. He thought about the grainy photograph of the attacker on the roof of Patil's house.

He had told them something about that. He couldn't remember what. It was one or the other. He had either told them about the assassin that came for the pilot or he had told them about the photograph. He knew it wasn't both because telling them about one hadn't helped his situation. The hateful punishment of his body had continued unabated after he gave them the first piece of information, so he didn't see the point of telling them about the second.

Then the lights came on. Abraham squeezed his eyes tight against the brightness. There was no spot directed at him. The lights were just the long tubes in the ceiling, humming and flickering and clicking to life. But God, they were bright when the world had been dark for so long. He could hear the men moving around behind him now. He could hear them talking in hushed tones. How had he not heard them coming in? It was not like he had a whole lot of other things to distract him.

He heard a door shut behind him. He fixed his eyes on a spot on the concrete floor. It was that or the concrete wall. He started to take his mind to another place. To a place where the pain would feel more like a fuzzy message his body was sending to him, rather than the cringing agony that it was when he stayed fully in the moment.

Footsteps approached. Just one man. He had the distinct impression there was no one else in the room except for him and this one other man. He didn't harbor thoughts of escape for a moment. There would be no action movie head-butting of his captor this day. No brilliant explosion of action followed by a feverish sawing of his bindings on a broken piece of glass or rough metal. Abraham knew that if he was cut free that moment and told that he could leave he would be able to do little more than fall to the ground and think about crawling away.

The footsteps drew close and then shoes appeared in the corner of his vision. Nice shoes. Expensive wing-tips. He lifted his gaze a little higher and saw a granite gray suit pants. He could tell that it was expensive as well. He continued to rake his vision higher up the figure in front of him. A matching gray jacket. A white shirt and a pink tie? An honest to God pink tie, here, in this gangland hell-hole. Then the face.

Abraham couldn't believe it.

It was like the stories said. The face was made up of strange material. Like crushed coal. It was anthracite black and looked hard. Hell, it looked armored. The eyes were just beady little caverns in the shadows thrown by the heavy, sharp-edged brow. The creature stood back, out of the light, squinting slightly.

'What...' he choked on the scratches in his throat and coughed. He tried again, 'What are you?'

The expression of the thing in front of him did not change. It said, in an accent that was about ninety percent Russian and ten percent something else, 'I think you know what I am.'

Abraham didn't say anything. What had he come here to find if he didn't believe at least a little bit of what the rumors said? No, he had put enough faith in those rumors to come all the way here. That said, now that he was seeing it, he couldn't really believe his eyes.

'Go on now,' said the creature. 'Tell me what I am. I didn't come here to hurt you any further than you have been already, but I can change my mind if you are rude. I can understand your desire to keep your employer's secrets secret, but I cannot abide by rudeness.'

Abraham squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again just to make sure the creature he was looking at was really real. Then he said, 'You're the Golem.'

The creature smiled. Its lips turned upwards in the smile, folding like reptilian skin. This is exactly what an alligator would look like if it smiled. As he looked at the formidable form in front of him, Abraham believed he would prefer to be tied up in a chair with an alligator than his thing.

'Very good,' said the Golem.

Abraham said nothing.

The Golem said, 'I would like to explain a little bit of your situation to you. First of all, it is entirely possible you get to leave here tonight. I have no particular desire to kill you. I have another objective. The second thing you need to understand, though, is that you only get to leave here if it's of value to me.'

'What do you want?' Abraham croaked out.

The Golem seemed taken aback by this. He seemed puzzled by the question as though it didn't make sense. He said, 'As much as I can get. I thought I had made that clear.'

'What?'

The Golem leaned closer to Abraham's face. He said, 'I want you to help me understand your worth. I want you to tell me what I can get from this Razmik in exchange for your life.'

Abraham didn't understand. Hanging languidly from his bindings he shook his head and said, 'Then why...'

'Why what? Why the torture? Don't you remember? You wouldn't answer our questions. It doesn't matter now, I believe that the answers to these questions can be easily acquired in part exchange for your life. You did tell us some interesting things.'

'Wh-what did I say?'

That alligator smile again, 'You told us something about a creature on a rooftop. You said there was a photograph. You also told us about the witch...'

Oh shit. What did I say? The witch? That can only mean Ardia. What did I say? No, it doesn't matter. I could have muttered a few meaningless words. It doesn't matter what he tells me that I said. All that matters is not saying more.

The Golem watched these machinations with interest and said, 'Oh, don't worry. I can see you have been trained to resist interrogation and all of its tricks. I can see your little Jew mind-gears turning. Now tell me, what can I get for you?'

CHAPTER 37

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The Kokoureks pulled off the highway in front of a roadside bar. The structure was not impressive. If the few vehicles outside the building were any indication, then the patrons consisted of a handful of bikers and truckers. They were not to discover the details of the patrons, though, as the Kokoureks drove the van around behind the bar. It was dark back there, with only a dim light shining over a back door.

They dismounted and moved swiftly to the door, not wanting to expose Homer's unusual form to any eyes that might be about. The Kokoureks kept a wary distance from Homer. He was so broad that he had to turn sideways to pass through the full sized door, to a back room of the bar.

'Welcome to the Batcave!' said David, holding his hands theatrically above his head while Marek flicked a light switch. Ardia took in the room with an awe that quickly transformed into concern before she turned to Razmik.

Razmik's face was a picture of despair. The walls of the room were adorned with every kind of hand-held weapon that he could imagine. There were dozens, literally dozens, of handguns. There were twenty or more assault rifles, as many submachine guns. Scattered among all of these were heavy machine guns, sniper rifles, grenade launchers and missile launchers.

Razmik returned Ardia's gaze. There was no need to speak the words. This was a disaster. Razmik rarely exposed himself to dealing personally with unknown quantities like the Kokoureks. The urgency of the situation had forced him to forego this precaution. He was instantly beginning to regret it. If the Kokoureks were inclined to keep this gaudy arsenal where it could easily be discovered by the authorities then they were even more wild and unpredictable than he had first believed.

'What is all this?' Razmik asked coldly.

'Is our Bat-cave,' said Marek smiling proudly, 'is our, uh, our Fortress of Solitude.'

David turned around, his arms still held wide, 'Is impressive, no?'

'Is stupid,' said Razmik, stepping further into the room. 'This is stupid. What good are all of these guns supposed to be? Do they make your dicks bigger? Think of what you're exposing yourselves to with this ridiculous stash.'

Ardia watched Homer move past the talking men, totally unconcerned with their squabble. He walked over to the rack of machine guns and gently, tentatively, poked one with his massive finger. The gun rocked on its rack but did not quite fall over. O'Connor hurried over to put his hand on Homer's massive arm, to stop him from causing destruction. It reminded Ardia of a child being cautioned by a parent in a shop full of expensive but delicate things.

Ardia returned her attention to Razmik and the Kokoureks. They were bickering but to a large extent the two new men looked crestfallen and scolded. They were clearly unhappy to have disappointed their hero, but Ardia wasn't sure if they really understood why he was so irate. The bigger issue was operating with these idiots. If they thought a room filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of firearms was a good idea, then she really didn't think she wanted to come across one of their bad ideas. She especially didn't want to be a part of one of their bad ideas.

O'Connor had stepped beyond Homer now and had delicately removed one of the rifles from the wall. Ardia watched how he handled the gun. She watched how he admired it and ran his hand along it. He shouldered it and aimed through the scope in a very discerning way. He then returned the gun to the wall with a nod.

My God, Ardia thought, he's a soldier. The priest is a soldier.

O'Connor turned around to face the quarreling men and said, 'Razmik. I am very sorry to interrupt your lecture.'

Razmik stopped talking and turned to the priest. His nostrils were flared from his tirade, but he was otherwise still. He raised his eyebrows to O'Connor.

O'Connor said, 'I understand your concerns here. If I am honest, then they're my concerns as well. But time is not our friend, if I am to understand you. And besides', he said, raising his arms to encompass the vast armory, 'When God gives you lemons...'

Razmik was silent while he studied the priest's words. After a pause, he smiled then raised and lowered his shoulders in a shrug that portrayed a mild kind of frustrated amusement.

CHAPTER 38

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Razmik looked at the cell phone in his hand and took a deep breath. He and Ardia stood outside the bar. She put a hand on his shoulder, not saying a word. The night was deep and chilled around them, the sky an empty black cloak that hung above them.

Razmik looked at Ardia with a rare and sincere concern on his face. The course of this conversation could decide the fate of a man who was dear to both of them.

'What if he wants something I can't give?' Razmik asked.

Ardia looked less concerned, 'Then we will take Abraham back our own way. We've been through this Razmik. This hesitation isn't like you.'

Razmik shrugged his shoulders deeply, expressively, emanating a despair that was buried in a shallow grave. 'Abraham is different. I think you feel it too. It's not just business with him anymore. I don't have many friends Ardia. I barely have any friends. It's not until now that I realize that I count Abe among them.'

'Well then let's get him back. Make the call Raz, we're not helping anything by just looking at a phone.'

Razmik's head sagged and he pressed the call button. The ring-tone hadn't purred twice before Razmik transformed again. Back to business, back to the task at hand, Razmik grew back into himself. He became the composed and fearless Razmik again. The other man, the man who was weighed down with fear over a friend he hadn't known he had, was gone.

The phone picked up. The voice on the other end was deep and heavy as stone. It said, 'I was beginning to wonder if you had given up on your Jew.'

'I have more things to worry about than just one Jew,' Razmik said. 'I would like to conduct our business as briskly as possible and be away from here. What do you want for him?'

The voice chuckled, 'How much can I get?'

Razmik wasted no time, 'How much do you want? I will pay a fair price. He is a man of rare talents, I won't deny it, I will pay a fair price.'

The voice on the phone sounded a little disdainful, 'Come now, let's not undersell him. I don't think a man of your standing traveled all the way here, and from South America no less, to retrieve a skilled servant. I think he's worth quite a lot to you.'

Razmik sighed impatiently, 'What do you want?'

The voice paused, then said, 'It's funny. Your Jew drew attention to himself asking around about the Golem. I am sure you have heard of the Golem. I am sure, in fact, that you sent the Jew here looking for the Golem.'

'I don't-', Razmik started to speak but the voice interrupted him.

'It's an interesting coincidence really. The Golem is reported to be an inhuman creature. He was supposedly the attack dog of a Russian mobster, an old Soviet General, here in Prague. They say the Golem can't be killed, that his skin is made of stone. There are stories of bullets bouncing off his skin. They say he's the result of some Soviet experiments on soldiers, experiments that went horribly wrong.'

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'That's where the coincidence grows interesting. I have been asked to find another freak, like the Golem. The freak I have been asked to acquire is a monster from South America, where you have just come from. The creature, ape-man describes him best, was just recently seen in Manaus. It's strange because I believe that is precisely where you have just come from. So, you tell me Razmik, what are the odds of your Jew servant hunting for one veritable monster in Prague while you are basically in the same neighborhood as another one in Brazil?'

Razmik was speechless.

The voice continued, 'That's what I thought. You know where the creature is. I want to know where the creature is.'

'I need to know that Abraham is alive. I want to see him.'

'Very well,' said the voice, 'I will show you your Jew. Then you will tell me where to find the creature. After I have acquired the specimen, I will release the Jew.'

'No. If I tell you where to look I want Abraham released then. It's none of my responsibility if you find it or not.'

'No, Razmik, you forget. I don't necessarily need you. I already know the location of the last sighting. I also have no love for your Jew. You need me more than I need you. We do it on my terms or we do it over your man's dead body.'

Razmik looked at Ardia, his expression helpless.

O'Connor came forward with the plan. Razmik clearly looked suspect and the Kokoureks simply thought it madness. Ardia was cautiously interested. Homer, as ever, didn't care for the talking. He just waited.

'No,' David said, 'we are as, how do they say, gung-ho as anyone. Look at room of guns that made you so unhappy. We like to fight. We are good at fighting. But this thing, it cannot be done.'

Marek nodded his agreement and said, 'You are talking about the Russians. You cannot go into Prague and beat the Russians. You really, really cannot go into Russian, ah, neighborhoods and win. There are only few of us. There will be tens of them. They very strong here in Prague, ever since old days.'

O'Connor asked, 'And you don't have any... you know, any associates out in these parts that can help you?'

David nodded, 'Yes. No. Sort of. Me and Marek, we handle the things here. Sometimes we get help. But these things, they have to be… decided… arranged before. It needs time to get help. We don't have time if we are going tonight.'

Marek joined him, 'Yes, we know you are priest and, don't mean disrespect, but you not know what is to happen here. This thing, it is crazy. There are six of us if we count...' Marek pointed to Homer. The Kokoureks had not adapted well to Homer's presence, they seemed to think of him as a particularly intelligent pet.

'If we are going to include you, we are going to include me,' Homer growled, breaking what had been a long silence on his part. He did not enjoy the Kokoureks. Their attitude towards him made him feel less than they were. He did not enjoy that sensation at all. In contrast, he was impressed by how little his introduction and continued presence had affected Razmik and Ardia.

Razmik turned to O'Connor, 'I appreciate the thought. And I appreciate your willingness to help. But as the boys here have said, there could be twenty men in that warehouse. We can't storm that with six.'

O'Connor smiled, 'I follow you mathematics. You have added two and two and two and have gotten six. It makes sense. But your addition is flawed, Razmik. I add Homer. I don't know what to call him myself. What I can tell you is that in the right circumstances, Homer alone is worth twenty men. Granted, this is not the jungle. But if we can find a way to get Homer close to them, then that's the whole show on its own. Believe me, I've seen it. Then there's your very special and talented lady here. I saw her stand up to Homer on that rooftop. She is not your normal fighter either. You certainly can't add her to any equation and see it increase by just one. Then there's me.'

Razmik raised an eyebrow, 'Are you going to call down the wrath of God on our enemies?'

'No', said Ardia, interrupting them. 'He is going to open that travel chest he carted along. He's going to open it and it's going to contain a rifle. And he's going to shoot that rifle well. Very well.'

Razmik turned back to look at O'Connor, his eyebrows raised in question.

O'Connor's face was an expression of surprise, 'Very impressive, Ardia. That is exactly what I am going to do. And, just as it is vital to find a way to put Homer in the correct position, if you can find the right place for me to shoot from, then I can change the equation as well.'

Razmik considered. He asked Ardia, 'You fought Homer. Is he really as good as our new friend here says he is.''

Ardia nodded enthusiastically, 'At least that good. Maybe a lot better. If we can get him close to the Russians, it's very hard to imagine anything being able to stop him.'

Homer smiled.

Razmik thought long and hard for most of a minute. Nobody spoke. Then he looked back up at his companions with a smile of his own.

Then he shrugged.

CHAPTER 39

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Homer was free again. The last few days had been difficult and stressful. First the crate, then that hardly bearable, seeming eternity in the van. The confines had been hard on Homer, but their trial was nothing compared with the people. So many people. There had been a time, not so long ago, when his entire world had been the jungle and his adopted father. Now, though, now things were moving quickly and that world was rapidly expanding to contain new faces, new personalities.

Homer glided over the rooftops. The night was dark and concealing, his massive feet and incredible bulk hardly seemed to make contact with the surfaces of the buildings as he moved with incongruous stealth. His role in the coming confrontation was unclear, but he expected to be needed. When he had asked his father when and how he should intervene, O'Connor had said that Homer would know when he was needed. When O'Connor saw the burning enthusiasm in his ward's eyes he had added, 'Best to stray on the side of caution, though...'

Homer had been with them in the van when they had driven past the meeting place. Razmik had pointed to where he should conceal himself in preparation for the meeting. The tree was big and old with twisted branches and a heavy canopy of leaves. Homer would be invisible there. They had released him from the confines of the van further away, where there would be fewer eyes. Now that he was trying to find the spot of the rendezvous, he found himself struggling. It had never been like this in the jungle, where he came from. He had always known which way to turn. This new concrete jungle had impaired his judgment.

Homer was comfortable with Razmik. He was not sure how to deal with him, or any of the other new faces for that matter, but he was comfortable with the man. He reminded him a lot of his own adopted father. Practical, steady and commanding. He felt Razmik understood what he was doing and that was good. Homer certainly did not understand the actions that were needed and was content to have his movements guided by the man.

Ardia was a different story entirely. His feelings towards her were very mixed. He could appreciate her positive qualities. She was like Razmik as well in many ways. She was practical and level headed. There was a passion in her, though, that he had not encountered in his other limited interactions with humans. It was like his own intensity, but at the same time, it was not. Homer understood that his impulses were foreign to the others. They didn't seem to understand his urge to act immediately in response to a stimulus. While Ardia was less prone to surrendering to these instincts, he could see that she shared them. She just seemed to be able to suppress them more readily than he could. Perhaps that was something he could learn.

Homer swept up the side of a pitched roof until he was crouching above the sprawling urban landscape. He surveyed the land that spread out in front of him and then he saw it, only a few hundred yards away. The warehouse was adjoined by an open space of rough stone. Razmik had called it a yard. The tree, his tree, was standing near to the door of the warehouse. It was an excellent position. Even now there were men walking along the front of the building. He could detect from their body language and stance that they were sentries. They bothered him very little. Their poor human senses would have no chance at discovering him as he made his way into the safety of the branches. Just looking at the tree made him feel a longing for home. He set off once more.

It was not Ardia's reign over her emotions that troubled Homer. It was who she was. Yes, she was a woman and that in itself was difficult. Homer had never dealt with women before and her presence filled him with mixed and confusing emotions. He was not sure how to address her gender, how to treat her. He could feel that there was something different, something dazzlingly, terrifically and terribly different about her because of her gender, but he could not understand the basis for the feeling. He had read about this feeling in books his adoptive father had given him, but he could not associate the sensation with his own mind.

Then there was her strength, her speed, her power. Her existence upset his own notion of self. In Homer's entire universe to this point, he had been apart from all others. From humans to jaguars to snakes, there had been nothing in his idea of the world that compared with his physical talents. Humans and beetles were almost one for all the threat they posed to him, physically. Ardia though, she was the same as he was, but different. She was strong, stronger than any other beings he had ever encountered. Not as strong as he was, true enough, but strong. The word that came to his mind to describe her strength was inhuman. She was fast as well. In this regard, maybe, she was his equal or better. But with all of that, she could do something he could not. Joining her other talents, she knew how to use the guns. She joined powers comparable to his own with the one thing that made humans vaguely threatening. She could shoot guns. Homer could not even fit his clumsy fingers into the trigger guard of any of the weapons he had ever handled. He both enjoyed and loathed her for her power. He felt he had both a peer and a rival in this woman.

Homer dove across the rooftops. All around him were more warehouses, sheds, and factories. This was an industrial area barely on the outskirts of the city. At this hour in the night, there were no eyes to find him as he leaped and ran. The cold continental air ripped in and out of his lungs as he exerted himself. In moments, he landed on the rooftop of the warehouse where they were to meet with the Russians.

Homer descended the slope of the roof that faced the yard. He padded briskly down the decline and pushed off, leaping out, far out, into the eternity of the night sky. For a fraction of a second, he just hung there, rotating in the air, feeling once more like the most powerful creature in the jungle. And then, as quickly as he had joined the stars suspended in the black canopy of the night, he was in the tree. He twisted around rapidly to face the warehouse and the men who were patrolling. Not so much as an eyelash was out of place. He had arrived, undetected.

Homer ran a hand over the smooth matte surface of the tree trunk and smiled. This was where he wanted to be. This was where nature had always wanted him to be.

Homer sank to his haunches, tucked in against the trunk, his feet gripping a stout branch. Homer waited.

CHAPTER 40

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They waited in the van.

Ardia withdrew each pistol from the holsters under her jacket, ejected each magazine to inspect it, racked the slides to feel the action of the guns, and then returned them to their holsters once again. She had selected an AMT .45 caliber Hardballer and a Beretta M9 9mm pistol, from the vast arsenal on display at the Kokoureks' bat-cave. The Hardballer was her intended primary, but holding only 8 rounds (including one already chambered), and having only one spare magazine, Ardia had also decided to bring the M9, with its much larger 15 round magazine. She would have liked a rifle, but Razmik had insisted they not appear with an outward appearance of aggression. His hope was still to find a way to negotiate for Abraham's release. He said they could leave the heavy firepower to Marek if it was needed. Marek would wait in the van and had brought an assortment of big and ridiculous guns from the armory.

Razmik had a revolver, holstered under his jacket, while David had come armed with two fully automatic Glock pistols.

Razmik looked at his watch as they sat in the back of the van. David was still sitting in the cab, Marek was leaning up to the grill to talk to him.

'Soon, Ardia,' Razmik said. 'Just another few minutes.'

Ardia nodded her acknowledgment and said, 'Has O'Connor signaled you yet?'

Razmik smiled, 'Yes. He sent a text message from the cell phone David gave him. I can barely decipher it. I don't believe the old-timer has ever sent a text before in his life.'

Ardia smiled in return, 'Raz... I haven't had to chance to ask you... Well, why did you bring them? It's not like you to be impulsive like this. We don't know either of them and Homer, well, traveling with Homer is a huge risk.'

Razmik shrugged, 'I don't know, Ardia. It's hard to say. Call it a feeling. Homer is like you. You might be marginally prettier', he winked, 'but he is the only other individual I have ever encountered that is like you, that is so different. If you want to know where you came from then I am willing to bet that you have a similar history to Homer. And there's the resemblance he shares with the figure we saw on the roof of your mother's house. And besides, I saw how he challenged you on that rooftop. He is an exceptional talent. He may be very raw, but you can help him with that.'

'I can help him?' Ardia asked.

Razmik nodded matter of factly, 'Yes Ardia. You know how to fight. Homer simply knows how to wave those big fists. If not for that difference, I think you would have stood little chance against him in Manaus.'

'Then why should I help him get better? Don't get me wrong Raz, I have a good feeling about them as well. But we don't know them. We have no idea how long we will be together, or if the time will come when we will be trying to kill each other again.'

Razmik smiled distantly and looked at his watch, 'It's time to go.'

When David drove the van into the yard they were not challenged by either of the men standing at the gate to the yard. There was a stout gate, but it was left open. There was clearly a lack of concern for the threat that could be posed by the passengers of a single van. They pulled up and stopped a few dozen yards from the rear of the warehouse. Homer's tree stood a stone's throw from the door to the warehouse. Try as they might, none of them could detect if he was actually in the tree. At this point, they had to presume.

David exited the cab and came around to open the back doors of the van so that Razmik and Ardia could dismount.

The long wall of the warehouse that faced them was littered with men. None of the men were concealing their weapons, which consisted of an assortment that ranged from tiny old revolvers up to submachine guns and assault rifles. If shooting began, then there was precious little cover to be had. It was only at that point that Ardia realized how they had put their lives in the hands of O'Connor and Homer. O'Connor's Almighty rifle and Homer's terrible brute force would be needed in a heartbeat if a fight really broke out. Without them, in this situation, then the trio, standing in the open like this, would not stand a chance. It was unlike Razmik to take risks, especially taking such risks with unknowns. In the last few days, he had taken many chances that ranged from bringing O'Connor and Homer into their fold to joining up with the Kokourek Brothers. There was something happening in his usually calculated mind. When the smoke settled after this encounter she would need to poke out the reason for this strange behavior.

She tapped Razmik on the shoulder and said, 'We should abort this. We can't take them on. There are too many. They are way too well armed. We have zero cover. We need to get out of here while we still can.'

Razmik shook his head sadly, 'We can't. We might not have another chance like this. Abe is meant to be here right now. If we leave, then even if he is kept alive, we won't know where to find him. This is the way it has to be. Have faith in the Almighty, Ardia.'

Ardia sighed, 'The man is in his seventies, Raz, how much faith can we have in his abilities?'

Razmik didn't reply, he just started towards the warehouse. He was flanked by Ardia on one side and David on the other. Marek sat in the van, armed with a heavy machine gun and a grenade launcher. The trio walked across the gravel yard. The Russians stood on a raised concrete platform that ran the length of the building.

Both of the Kokourek Brothers had been cautioned not to dare to fire a round until either Ardia or Razmik had started shooting already. Marek had then been lectured extensively about knowing where his grenades might land relative to where one of his companions might be standing.

Razmik moved towards the short series of steps that would lead to the platform. He was about mount the first step, when the figure appeared from a side door of the warehouse, alongside the main loading doors.

'Shit,' he breathed.

Ardia's eyes widened with amazement. The figure that had emerged looked like a gargoyle carved from blackened stone. His skin was as black as tar, hard, rough and angular. His eyes were sunken black orbs that sat deep in his eye sockets. And he was big. Not Homer-big, but linebacker big. He was incongruously dressed in a gray suit with a flamboyant pink tie that looked to be worth thousands of dollars.

'What the hell?' she breathed to Razmik.

Before he could reply the figure spoke. Razmik recognized the rough voice from the phone.

'Welcome,' it said.

Razmik's shock was very short-lived. Immediately he said, 'Where is my man?'

The creature looked disappointed, 'My appearance is not worth a little more awe? Right to business, is it?'

Razmik said, 'I didn't come here to gape. I came here to confirm that my man is alive and well.'

The creature rolled its head from side to side and said, 'Well, he is alive but he's not all that well.'

Razmik said, 'I want to see him.'

The creature pursed its stone-like lips and said, 'There has been a change of plans. I want you to know that I had planned, genuinely, to honor our agreement. Your man is here. But then…’

The Golem pointed to Ardia.

Razmik looked at Ardia and back to the Golem. The guards were standing to attention now. Their weapons were not trained on the trio, but they were being held ready.

The Golem said, 'Your Jew told us things. You mustn't blame him, he is only a Jew. And further, he showed impressive resilience. But he said things, some of them under the influence of drugs. He told me about a witch, my word, not his. A woman who could bend steel with her bare hands and throw men twenty feet through the air. It...caught my attention.'

Razmik eyed the retinue of guards that lined the walkway, 'Why?'

'Why do I want her?' the creature asked. 'For the same reason, I want your help finding the big hairy beast in Brazil. I have a third party that is very interested in genetic anomalies. I actually have to be quite careful about how I deal with him because of my own...specialness. That's part of why I am so rarely seen in public. He would quite like to acquire me himself. However, at times, it is worth the risk as he pays very well. And there is a little self-preservation at work too. If I can keep him supplied with subjects for whatever it is he does, then he has less need to try and capture me.'

'I won't help you find the beast if you do this,' said Razmik. 'And Ardia will not be cooperative.'

The Golem smiled sadistically, 'She doesn't need to be. I know from past experience that even her corpse will be considered valuable. Living and breathing is better, but there are different degrees of living and breathing, aren't there?'

Razmik and Ardia exchanged a look. Razmik put his hands on his hips. It was a signal. All that was needed was for O'Connor to be where he was supposed to be.

The Golem opened his mouth to speak but never uttered a word. The sound of the distant gunshot, echoing from somewhere above and far behind Razmik and his companions, actually arrived after the bullet. There was not a big delay, but it was noticeable. The Golem's head snapped backward, the big monster staggered back against the wall behind him and then slid to the ground. The sound of O'Connor's rifle arrived somewhere between the beginning and the ending of the sequence.

The Russians began to raise their weapons to shoot.