CHAPTER 41

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Before the Russians ever fired a shot, Homer was amongst them.

Even to Ardia's eyes, he was fast, shockingly fast. He sprang towards the Russians from his secreted perch in the tree. Ardia's eyes were sharp, they could follow the trajectory of his movement. To her companions's eyes, he was just a dark blur, a massive bullet, streaking through the air. The Russians didn't see him coming, but several of them reacted to some sense of impending doom. Ardia watched them turn towards the source of the beast, raising their weapons.

Then he was in their midst and all was wonderful chaos. Bullets started to erupt and cut the air, flying in all directions. Ardia raised her gun and began her methodical elimination of opponent after opponent. She strafed sideways as she fired, always aiming, never missing. To the Russians, she too, was a blur.

Bodies flew through the air as Homer swept along the walkway. His agility was beyond belief for a creature of so much bulk and power. Even as Ardia continued to end the lives of the men before her, she observed him. So much raw power, but still very raw. He didn't know what to do with his body. It was true that he could quite literally dodge bullets, and that he could crush the life from his victims without a thought. It was also true that he could be many times more dangerous if he learned to use these abilities with more care. If he knew how to use those limbs to the best of their potential, to use his speed to find cover, instead of brazenly daring the shooters to hit him.

The gun barked in her hands in steady, regular intervals. Headshot, heart shot, head shot. Find the target, hit it, move on. Off to her side, her two companions had made for cover and were exchanging fire themselves. David was hopelessly pumping rounds into the chaos. To his credit, he was not afraid. But he was excited and undisciplined. Alongside him was Razmik, cold as ever, cool as death's breath. Over it all came the distant booming cracks of the priest's rifle.

When her Silverballer was empty she dropped it to the ground and drew her next weapon. When she raised it to draw a bead she couldn't find a target. There was nothing before her but still bodies and gore. In the middle of the bodies, stood Homer. He was, somehow, at once both terrible and magnificent. He was a beast covered in the blood of the slain and he was a warrior standing proudly over the fallen. His chest rose and fell heavily from the exertion.

Ardia spared a moment to glance at Razmik. He met her eyes and smiled perplexedly.

'I thought this was supposed to be a risky maneuver,' he said.

'Me too...' Ardia trailed off.

David looked around at the fallen and said, 'Did Marek even shoot?'

Razmik shook his head and stared at Homer. He said, 'You really are something, Homer. This was almost anti-climactic.'

Homer looked down at his feet and absently kicked the concrete with one of his huge toes. To Ardia, it was the action of a small boy who doesn't know how to react to praise for a job well done. She opened her mouth to add her own commentary but stopped. Suddenly, there was one more figure standing. The Golem was on his feet again.

The creature looked around at his fallen soldiers and shook his head in some combination of wonder and loss. Then he turned his face towards them. They could see where the bullet had struck him. There was a mark, a shallow gouge, right in the center of his forehead. He absently raised a hand to the mark and traced it with a finger.

'That was a good shot...' he marveled, to himself maybe, as he looked around for the shooter.

Homer took a step towards him, menace pouring from him as he moved. The Golem saw him move and reacted. He shot towards Homer, covering the distance between them faster than even Ardia could believe. He rammed into Homer's chest like a cannonball, knocking the massive creature to his back. From the ground, Homer swung a massive fist at the Golem and sent him sprawling, up into the air, to land on the roof of the warehouse.

The Golem leaped to his feet immediately and his previous composure was gone. The refined gangster was replaced by something that was every bit as much animal as Homer. His fine suit jacket was scuffed and his shirt had been torn open to reveal a lean, powerful torso that was coated in the same armor plating as his face.

'Come on then!' he roared at Homer. It sounded like the devil himself, the volume of his challenge seemed to fill the entire space.

Ardia called, 'Homer, wait!' But it was to no avail. Homer answered the challenge without a thought and leaped to meet the Golem in a single bound. They fell to the tiled rooftop together and rolled, locked in battle, out of view over the peak of the roof.

Ardia turned to Razmik and said, 'I need to go after them.'

Razmik urgently nodded his head, 'Go. We'll find Abe.'

Ardia took a running jump and cleared the 15 feet to the rooftop. Landing in a crouch she pulled the Beretta and took a deep breath.

Then she started to run.

Homer was torn between terror and glee. He had never fought an opponent as powerful as the creature he wrestled with now and it scared him. But... he had never fought an opponent as powerful as the creature he wrestled with now and it exhilarated him.

Homer drove a fist into the Golem's gut. It felt like punching concrete. The blow, a blow that would have crushed the bones of a normal human to dust, did drive the wind from The Golem. The Golem hit back, striking Homer in the face with his elbow, twisting his body to deliver all of his momentum into the blow, and Homer sprawled down the rooftop.

Homer struggled to his feet just in time to receive a crippling blow from the Golem and he fell backward, off the rooftop, and onto the roof of a garage below. The concrete roof cracked beneath the impact of his fall. The Golem leaped through the air to land before him and this time, sore everywhere, Homer was on his feet in time to avoid what might have been a killing blow. Homer did the only thing he knew: he attacked. He swung thundering roundhouse punches at The Golem, but the creature moved around and between them with ease. Every time he missed he received punishing jabs to his body. The Golem hit like he looked, like a bag of coal. Despite his aggression, Homer found himself being driven back.

When his foot found the edge of the garage's roof he had to pause to keep his balance. That pause provided the opening for The Golem to deliver a terrible roundhouse kick and smashed Homer sideways and to his back once again.

The creature stood over him and looked almost disappointed. He said, 'I had hoped for more. You are nothing like your dear old...' The sound of the gunshot interrupted him. His face twisted to the side as the bullet struck his cheek. Homer could hear the whine of the bullet ricocheting away from the armored plates.

Startled, Homer looked around and saw Ardia standing above them on the roof of the warehouse. She fired three more times in quick succession, hitting The Golem with each shot, and shouted to Homer, 'Up here Homer! Get up here.'

The Golem had staggered back under the blows. Homer could feel his body, weakened by the beating, and knew he should retreat to his ally. But he felt a primal urge to meet this challenge head on. Then Ardia roared at him, 'Homer, now!'

He responded, rolling away from his opponent and leaping to crouch by Ardia. Ardia kept firing until her ammunition was spent. The Golem recovered almost as soon as the hail of bullets stopped. He gathered himself and glared up at them.

Homer wanted to stop now. Just for a moment, just enough time to know what The Golem had been about to say. “Dear old dad?” Could this being know his father? Could he be the link to Homer's past?

They didn't have that moment, though, because the Golem closed on them with unnatural speed. Ardia was not as sturdy as Homer and she feared she would not get up after one of those terrible stone clad punches, as her ally would. But she was that little bit faster, and she knew how to use her body. She kept her feet moving and dodged in and around the blows. Homer was weakened and clumsy now from the beating he had received. Ardia could stave him off, but Homer was tiring. All they could hope to do was hold him off as the trio engaged in a wild and unwieldy dance across the rooftop.

Suddenly, The Golem swept Homer's legs from under him, dropping him to the ground. Then, with no other distractions, he blew past Ardia's defenses and knocked her to the ground with the weight of his body. He landed on top of her and drew a clenched fist back to pummel her skull.

CHAPTER 42

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Razmik rushed through the door from which The Golem had earlier emerged. The room was dark and unlit, but he could immediately make out the silhouetted form of a man slumped in a chair. He swept the space for hostiles before returning to his friend.

He could not find a light switch, but he removed a strobe attachment from his pocket. The short black cylinder resembled a pocket flashlight with the necessary modifications to attach it to his pistol. The device operated by emitting a series of powerful flashing lights to startle opponents in closed spaces in the dark. He and Ardia had each brought one from the Kokourek's armory to use if they needed to breach the warehouse under fire.

Razmik switched it on now and pointed it at the floor. Many of these lights came with a standard flashlight setting, but the Kokoureks clearly hadn't made that practical consideration. The floor came to him in a series of brief but starkly lit images. It was disorienting.

He brought the light over to Abraham and, keeping it cast downwards so Abraham was only illuminated by the softer edges of the beam, inspected him. Abraham was unconscious but breathing steadily. He was naked from the waist up and was coated in cuts, bruises, and burn marks. Razmik shook his head sadly as he looked at his friend. Abrahams eyeballs seemed to flicker beneath his closed lids and then they fluttered open.

'Razmik?' Abraham asked, weak and confused.

'Yes, Abe. I'm here now.'

'No, get away, there's a monster here... The Golem...'

'It's alright Abe.'

'No, Razmik, he's real! The Golem is real, I've seen him!'

Razmik put a hand on his shoulder and said, 'It's okay. I know. We know. He's being dealt with.'

'How?' Abraham seemed lost with astonishment.

'Ardia, and a friend, are attending to him.'

'No, Razmik, leave me and go to her. He's too much, even for her.'

Razmik smiled, 'You haven't met our new friend.'

CHAPTER 43

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The Golem froze with his fist drawn back for the strike. He squinted his strange dark eyes and leaned slightly closer, peering at Ardia's face. His mouth dropped open and he took in a small breath. He said, in the barest of grating whispers, 'Patil?'

Ardia's eyes flew open as she heard her mother's name. But then, as quickly as it had come, the calm in The Golem was passed. She saw the deadly intention return to his face about a heartbeat before the two intertwined fists of Homer smashed into him. She heard the crunching of armor plates as The Golem was sent sprawling and skittering across the rooftop to where it was better lit by a nearby streetlamp.

Ardia and Homer rushed to meet him as he rose. With his back to the streetlamp, he was just a black silhouette and looked more like a tattoo floating in the air than a corporeal being. Ardia reached him first and dropped, sliding past him, trying to sweep his legs. He deftly avoided her and still had time deflect another of Homer's vicious, if clumsy, roundhouse blows.

The dance resumed but this time the outcome seemed certain. He was too strong, too fast and, most of all, too cunning. Homer and Ardia both grew tired as the battle wore on and now they knew themselves to be overmatched.

Then Ardia noticed it. The Golem would always, without fail, maneuver himself so that he could fight them with his back to the streetlamp. She watched more closely and watched him squint and squeeze his eyes whenever the action forced him to face it. The lamp was casting a dull orange glow. It wasn't even that bright, but it appeared to hurt him.

Ardia leaped back from the fray and for a few seconds, Homer would have to carry the fight on his own. She dug in her pocket and found the strobe attachment. She withdrew it and switched it on, playing the bright flashing light directly into the creature's eyes. Homer seemed almost as startled as The Golem by the light. But Homer didn't howl in agony, covering his face with his hands and arms. Homer didn't leap away in terror.

Ardia pressed the advantage racing towards the Golem with the light extended towards him. Homer too understood and swept in for what might have been a killing blow. But then The Golem stepped from the edge of the rooftop and was simply gone.

They stood at the edge of the rooftop, peering into the gloom for The Golem, but after a time it became evident that he would not reappear.

'What is that?' asked Homer.

'It's called a strobe,' said Ardia.

'That is clever,' Homer said, with a reserved kind of praise in his voice.

'Thank you, Homer,' said Ardia.

The two stood alongside each other. Their postures were erect and separate. They did not lean towards or away from one another. They may not have been friends, but they were stronger together. In fact, tonight, they were victorious together.

CHAPTER 44

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They returned to Kokourek's armory/hideaway. The mood on the return journey in the van was both pensive and exultant. There was a sense of victory amongst the group. The Kokourek brothers were ecstatic to have successfully aided Razmik in his venture. Razmik and Ardia were both elated to have Abraham back in safety. But Homer, and Ardia as well, both seemed to be dwelling on the encounter they had had with The Golem.

They left quickly, with no opportunity to search the premises and still only just escaped before the police cars converged on the location.

When they arrived at the bar, the Kokourek's had a doctor waiting to tend to Abraham. A "special friend" they called him, with unnecessary winks for Razmik, to let him know that the man was chosen for his discretion in these situations.

Homer carried Abraham upstairs for them and, while the doctor tended to him, the group gathered in the room that was wallpapered with what seemed like every firearm under the sun.

'Thank you both,' Razmik said to Homer and O'Connor, 'for your help.'

Homer nodded his head silently and O'Connor said, 'We're only glad we were successful.'

'And now?' said Razmik, 'What's next for us? I can't help but feel like we have lost track of what we each set out to do.'

'Less than you might think,' said Ardia.

'How so?' asked the priest.

'The creature,' she paused, glancing at Homer and seeming to consider her words. 'The Golem. It said my mother's name.'

'What?' Razmik was incredulous.

Ardia nodded, troubled, 'Yes. I think he saw her in me. He looked at me strangely as he said it. It was like a question. “Patil?” Like that.'

'This is huge,' said Razmik. 'Maybe Abraham's sacrifice here wasn't for nothing then.'

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Homer stirred and looked awkwardly at O'Connor. O'Connor said, 'Come on Homer. We may be seeing more of these two. If you have something to share then I would say share it.'

Homer shifted and said, 'He... he said something to me as well.'

Ardia looked at him, insisting on eye contact and said, quite softly, 'What?'

Homer seemed undecided, 'It is probably nothing.'

'Come on Homer, out with it,' said Razmik and he leaned out, just a little unsure, and put a hand on Homer's shoulder.

Homer turned his head to look at the gesture with a look that was equal parts confusion and distaste. But he left the hand there and said, 'He said... He was threatening me... And he made reference to “my dear old...”, my dear old something. He didn't finish.'

'What? You remember more Homer, surely,' said O'Connor.

Homer bobbed his head from side to side and said, 'He said something like, uh, you're nothing like your dear old...'

O'Connor was in shock with mouth hanging open. Ardia said, 'He could only have been going to say father!'

Homer looked at her with pained eyes and said, 'Seems so.'

Razmik seemed to find amusement in the exchange and said, 'It seems a little beyond likelihood that he could know both your mother, Ardia, and your father, Homer. It's a fairly big world, after all. Unless, of course...'

Ardia looked at him and said, 'Unless the two are linked anyway? That's the only way it makes sense.'

O'Connor drew the gaze of all three with a wave of his hand. He then said, switching his gaze between Homer and Ardia, 'Do you remember in the diary. There were references to a boy with skin like coal.'

'Oh my god,' said Ardia. 'He's from the same place as my mother was.'

'And how does he know of my father?' asked Homer.

O'Connor smiled and said, 'I think that it may be time for me to reach out to an old friend.'

'Someone from The Troubles, father?' said Homer.

O'Connor smiled again and said, 'No. From the time after that.' He tugged at his priest's collar as he said this.

Razmik raised an eyebrow and gave one of his shrugs, 'And where will you need to go to achieve this?'

O'Connor spread his arms wide and said, 'Where else? Rome.'

It was agreed that O'Connor would travel alone. He said there was no need for Homer to accompany him. This made things somewhat easier as it was possible to simply select a commercial flight to Rome. Homer seemed very uncomfortable at the thought of O'Connor going without him but, naturally, refused to give any voice to his trepidation. O'Connor did him the favor of not forcing him to say anything that might require an emotional response. Within a few hours, he was gone, Marek driving him to the airport.

After he left, Homer withdrew to a corner. Razmik uncurled on a sofa and began to doze. Ardia found a seat and began to leaf through her mother's diary. Homer slept for a time himself but, as the hours drifted by and the night became the day, Ardia never slept.

As dawn passed by and the light through the windows became brighter, Homer grew uncomfortable and moved towards the exit.

Razmik stirrer and said, 'Homer? Where are you going?'

Homer looked very awkward and said, 'I must, uh, go outside.'

'Homer, I don't think that's for the best. We should limit your exposure.'

'But... I uh...'

'What's wrong Homer?' asked Ardia.

Homer said, voice full of frustration, 'I uh... I need to go outside.'

Ardia leaned forward, forgetting the diary a moment, and said with some little bit of mischief, 'Why?'

Homer seemed at a complete loss. He tossed his head from side to side in an expression of complete desperation. After a few moments, he seemed to resile himself and said, 'I need to... pass waste...'

Ardia shared a look with Razmik and barely concealed the smile which threatened to consume her face, 'Homer, we have a bathroom.'

Homer just stared at her blankly.

'We have a toilet.'

Homer looked at his feet in that expression of childish innocence that she had already come to expect of him, and he said, 'I don't know how.'

Ardia looked to Razmik and it was his turn to look embarrassed. After she continued to stare at him for a time he slumped his shoulders and said, 'Come with me, Homer.'

Razmik emerged from the bathroom with a look of confusion on his face. Ardia watched and waited for Homer to emerge. She heard the toilet flush about a minute or so before he emerged. When he did come back, he immediately returned to his solitary corner of the room.

Ardia picked up the diary and moved to lean against the wall near to him. She resumed her leafing through the pages and waited for him to speak. Homer steadfastly refused to acknowledge her presence.

After a time she said, 'I'm looking for more references to the coal-skinned boy.'

Homer didn't seem startled by her speaking, but he did take a moment to answer her. He said, 'To The Golem?'

'Yes,' Ardia nodded her agreement.

As Ardia continued to flick through the pages Homer said, 'You think he and your mother were from the same place?'

'I'm sure of it. How else could he have known her name? And the “boy with the coal skin” has to be more than coincidence.'

Homer remained silent and Ardia said, 'How do you think he knows your father? Do you think he might be from the same place? Are you from somewhere like that?'

Homer grunted and said, 'No. I was born in the jungle.'

'Maybe your father was there then? Did you... ever meet him?'

Homer shook his head.

Ardia asked, 'And your mother... was she, you know, like you?'

Homer lifted his head to look at her and she met his gaze. It struck her then that this was very much a man that she was talking to. His eyes were very deep and full of only the kind of suffering that a human can know.

He said, 'No. My mother was not like me. She was like you.'

'Oh,' said Ardia. She didn't say any more.

After a brief silence, Homer expanded, 'I don't mean like you. She was normal. Human. Or I am told. I never met her.'

Ardia was frozen then for a second and said, 'She, died when you were born?'

'Afterward.'

Ardia nodded solemnly, but Homer placed a hand on her arm. He grasped her arm firmly but very gently. It was amazing that his massive hands could be so gentle. He made eye contact again and said, 'She didn't die like that.'

She wanted to look away. She pretended not to know what he meant, 'Like what? What do you mean?'

'In birthing me. That's not what killed her.'

Ardia held his gaze another long moment. She didn't know why but she could see that he desperately wanted to say what he said next. His eyes were a swamp of guilt and shame and he said, 'I killed her.'

CHAPTER 45

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Father O'Connor sat in a high-backed chair in an empty atrium. The space was large and cavernous, the windows and doorways consisting of high pointed arches carved from stone. The floor was polished to a reflected shine and noises echoed hollowly.

Beyond his seat, where he waited, was a set of large wooden doors. Beyond the doors came the muffled sounds of conversation. O'Connor sat, not listening to the voices, not even to the voice he knew so well. The drive through Rome from the airport had been a trip filled with nostalgia. It had been many long years since he had been here, so close to the Vatican City.

His thoughts drifted back to a day, some fifty years before. He thought of the man, the boy really, he had been when he entered the confessional. He thought about the terrible guilt that hung over him that day. He thought about the thing he had been a part of, the lives that had been lost, in no small part because of him. He had entered the confessional, stepping into the dark curtained mouth, to clear his conscience. His hope had been to cleanse his soul as much as it could be cleansed of the terrible stains. He had also planned to put a bullet in his brain later that day, which was, of course, another sin.

The priest who had listened to his confession, his complete and explicit confession of the events of the previous two years, had been a young man, almost as young as O'Connor himself. The priest, a German named Father Werner, had listed to everything O'Connor had to say. Then, instead of penance, the priest had asked O'Connor to take a walk with him. As it turned out, O'Connor was still taking that walk today. But today he walked it in priests garbs.

The heavy doors clicked and swung open. A procession of men, all dressed in the trappings of high ranking church officials, exited and were gone. When they passed, all that remained was one solitary figure standing in the doorway. He was an old, old man. That much was clear. He still retained a powerful, if short, figure. The old man was dressed in the vestments of a Cardinal. He had the hardened eyes of a killer.

'Father O'Connor! It is good to see you,' he said, beckoning for O'Connor to enter. 'When did we last stand face to face like this.'

'Los Angeles, in the airport. Just before you sent me to Washington for the debacle there. But I think you remember that, Felix.'

'I believe I remember the last time we spoke as well, Connor,' Werner said, moving around a massive carved desk to his seat. The office was decorated like the hall, a fine old room that conveyed all the power and majesty that Werner wanted it to.

'Yes,' said O'Connor. 'On the phone, after I got out of the hospital.'

'And do you remember what you said to me then?' asked Werner.

O'Connor nodded, 'I said I was done with the order. And I didn't lie.'

'Then what's brought you back here? To me?'

O'Connor sighed, 'I need your help.'

Werner turned his head to look out the window. He took a long pause before speaking. He said, 'When you called to arrange this meeting, I thought long and hard about what I would do when you asked for something.'

'And?' asked O'Connor.

'I'm still thinking long and hard about it,' the old man smiled thinly. He turned his head back to O'Connor and said, 'Tell me what you want. I think we might still owe you something, after all you've done.'

'I need to know about the thing you sent me after in Washington.'

Werner shook his head, 'Can't do that.'

'Because it's secret? Or because you don't know.'

Werner wobbled his head and said, 'It might be a bit of both. After the Washington incident, we are treating that as highly sensitive. We fucked up with that one. But, yes, it's also true that you probably know as much as we do. Why do you want to know more? Because, Connor, if you're close to it...'

O'Connor waved him away, 'I'm not close to it. It could be literally anywhere in the world and it wouldn't surprise me.'

'Then why do you want to know?'

'That's highly sensitive,' said O'Connor.

Werner stared at him with those cold killer eyes. O'Connor didn't flinch. Werner said, 'I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, Connor, but I really can't help you with this one.'

O'Connor nodded and said, 'Then maybe you can put me in touch with someone.'

Werner smiled thinly, 'I'll bet I can guess.'

'I want to talk to the boy.'

Werner steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips. He said, 'You want to talk to Father Stryker... You know, there might be a way for us to help each other out here.'

'Go on.'

'He listens to you,' said Werner. 'He's always listened to you. I can tell you where to find him and maybe you can talk to him.'

'He's gone off the reservation again?' asked O'Connor.

Werner nodded sadly, 'That boy, I swear it, idle hands are the devil's playthings. You leave him with nothing to do for a few days and he goes at it. Nothing will settle him down. I wouldn't mind so much, but he insists on wearing that damned collar the whole time.'

O'Connor smiled, eyes distant, and said, 'And what is it this time? Drugs?'

'Oh no, thank God,' said Werner. 'Just drink and whores. But he's going through both faster than my piss runs through me these days.'

'Alright,' said O'Connor. 'You point me to him and I'll see what I can do.'

CHAPTER 46

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'You killed your mother? When you were a baby?' Ardia gasped.

Homer's head sunk to his chest as though the telling of this had exhausted him. He said, 'Yes.'

'How?' it came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

'By being what I am.'

Ardia shook her head slowly and said, 'What do you mean?'

He wouldn't look at her this time. He said, 'When she birthed me and saw what I was, she went to the river at the edge of the camp. She tied a rope to her legs and tied the other end to a stone. Then she took a boat out, into the middle of the river, and threw the stone over. Some of the villagers saw her do it. They got her out of the water eventually. But it was too late.'

'Homer,' Ardia said, reaching out and grasping his massive arm. She squeezed it hard enough to draw his eye contact for a moment. She said, 'Homer... that's not your fault.'

Homer just shrugged.

They stood in silence for quite a while then. Homer kept staring down at his feet, palpably brooding. Ardia attempted to leaf through the pages of the diary a little more but found she couldn't. She put the diary down and strode quickly across the room to where her luggage had been tucked away. She came back with the Nazi wall hanging and held it out for Homer to see.

'Do you know what this is?' she asked, believing the question to be rhetorical.

Homer nodded, 'It's a flag of the Nazis.'

Ardia was taken aback by this and said, 'How could you know that?'

Homer spared a moment to give her a smile and said, 'I have read books. Many books. They're all I have in the jungle.'

Ardia recovered and said, 'And do you know what it means to find one of these locked away in a chest that belonged to your mother?'

Homer's eyebrows arched a little and he said, 'It probably means shame.'

Ardia nodded, 'As far as I can see, this was a prized possession of my mother's.'

Homer looked at her with an unamused expression and said, 'I feel like you are trying to make a point.'

Ardia gripped the fabric tightly. She grunted, struggling to put her thought together and said, 'I don't feel shame about this. Whatever reason my mother had, this is not my reason. I'm not responsible for what my mother did.'

Homer nodded slowly. After a while, he said, 'Thank you.'

She looked into his face and could see no lessening of the dark emotions that brewed there. But he said it again, and she could see he meant it, 'Thank you.'

When Razmik opened his eyes from sleep, his field of vision was consumed by the immense form of Homer alongside the delicate shape of Ardia.

'What?' he asked, shuffling his body up into a sitting position.

'We're going out,' said Ardia.

'We?'

'Yes,' said Homer, deep-voiced and certain.

'I thought we decided that wasn't a good idea.'

'We need to go back to the warehouse,' said Ardia.

Razmik became completely awake with that and he said, 'Ardia, what?'

'We need to find The Golem, Razmik. He's the link we both need. He knew my mother and it seems he knew Homer's father.'

Razmik nodded grimly, 'And something like Homer is what killed Patil. He might hold two pieces of the puzzle. Yes, yes, I do see it. But the warehouse will be swarming with the law. How many men did we kill?'

'You didn't kill any,' said Homer.

'I shot one! In the stomach!' Razmik said, outraged.

'But I crushed his skull before he expired. That means I killed him,' said Homer.

'Yes, well... That's completely beside the point. You can't go back there.'

Ardia said, 'It's the only connection we have to the Golem. He's very cunning. He'll cover his tracks now. The police will take that place apart in their investigation. We need to go back as soon as we can if we want to find anything that might lead us to him.'

Razmik looked from one determined face to the other and said, 'Then at least wait until tonight.'

Homer grunted in assent. Ardia nodded.

Razmik said, 'And for God's sake, please be careful.'

CHAPTER 47

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An excerpt from the journal of Damien Slayer

It's getting harder and harder to move around without being detected. As much as my fame, or infamy, has faded over the last few years, it's actually getting tougher to avoid the law. Automatic face detection software, improvements to passports that make them harder to fake and all the increased security to deal with the terrorist threats have been making my life harder and harder.

I got into Europe, but I think there were a lot of close calls there. I haven't figured out how to get to Berlin yet, or even how to cross the border into Germany, but that won't be as challenging. I keep thinking about my odds of survival if I am caught. I mean, I am the Damien Slayer. If some cops figure out that the guy standing in front of them is Damien Slayer, then I don't think they're going to do a whole lot of thinking before they start shooting. It's not as though I can really afford to put my hands in the air and say 'I give up.' If they catch me then I'm either going to be executed or locked up somewhere and welded in.

That gets me thinking. I have gathered a lot of knowledge in the years since Penny was killed. I mean, more or less my entire life has been dedicated to this thing I do. And it's not noble. At the end of the day, I didn't have a whole lot of choice in the matter. I was the presumed rapist and murderer of three women. I basically had to commit myself to finding the real killer. But that leaves me here, Damien Slayer, knower of lots, with nobody to tell. I think I should record the information here so that it's not gone. At the end of the day, I think I know a lot of things about a lot of things that can never be found out again.

So where do I start? I think I start with the biggest of them all. Him.

I found out from Father Stryker that they call him Prowler. Stryker doesn't know who came up with the name, just that it's stuck to the thing for years now. Nobody knows where he came from. It's hard to pinpoint when he became active. Father Stryker, and the Order, have been aware of similar things for many years. But these other things are not cut from the same cloth as Prowler.

According to Father Stryker, and it lines up perfectly with my own research, Prowler became active in the mid-1970s.

The activity started around Berlin. The German police thought they were dealing with a serial killer. It's difficult to say that the events that occurred in Berlin were definitely the doings of Prowler. Most of his patterns weren't present. There were no “gifts”, no messages. Just the murder, the violence, and the rape. From the first it was redheads. From the very beginning. Like I have written, this might not be the first time Prowler was active, and it might not even have been Prowler. But there's enough there to suggest it was him. One of the victims survived for a few hours, long enough to be taken to the hospital. Even though she never became fully conscious, her ramblings were noted and she referred to a “monster”. If I get the opportunity while in Berlin I would like to find out if there are any archived records about those attacks.

He would then follow the pattern that he's established since then and disappear for ten years.

In the mid-1980s, a series of attacks occurred in South America, mainly in Brazil. Stryker believes that his people only know of a fraction of the attacks that occurred there. He believes most of the attacks occurred in the jungle and were never reported. If that's true then the spree in Brazil was easily his most extensive to date. The reports that do exist clearly show that he had developed his pattern completely now. Messages were sent to the victims in the form of scratched phrases on doors, trees, and even a car bonnet. Gifts were sent, the same as always.

Stryker says they dispatched one of their own to Brazil. An ex-IRA soldier named Father O'Connor. Stryker speaks very highly of this man. He seemed to be of the opinion that if anyone could do something about Prowler, apart from Stryker himself, that it would be O'Connor. But O'Connor apparently never came out of the jungle. It caused a lot of confusion in the Order because O'Connor had always been one of the most disciplined and committed of their faithful following. But he refused to leave, insisted he was close to the thing. Stryker believes that O'Connor must have taken a native wife. But then, that would make sense to Stryker.

At the conclusion of the attacks in South America, and it's very hard to know when those attacks really ended, he vanished again. For me, what makes it truly disturbing is that his next appearance, in 1995, was in Scotland. Borders, and even oceans, seem to be no obstacle for him. He just seems to melt into reality once every decade and can do it just about anywhere in the world.

After Scotland came his faithful appearance in Washington in 2005. I think I've written enough about that, time and again, to say no more.

As I write this it is 2015. He's due. He's more than due, he's a little late. What that really means is that somewhere, out there in the world, it's probably already started again.