“So he runs for President.” Chavez went on, in a slow, drawl. “Wins in a landslide because he was a war hero and a great American. Now, finally, the big picture! But no. The corporation heads who contributed to his campaign tell him that they’re the only ones who really get to see the big picture, so he does what they tell him to and after he completes his term of office, they reward him with a seat on the executive board and now he’s really excited. He’s finally made it, he’s going to get to see the big picture at last…” “And?” said Neilson.
“And they all gather together in the boardroom, and they light up their cigars, and they go over their reports, and they examine all their charts, and they go over all their profit statements, and they have someone come in and explain it all to them so they can understand it, and they pour brandy into their snifters and loosen up their ties and congratulate one another and talk about how things will be even better during the next quarter, and they schedule their next meeting, which will take place in the Bahamas at a corporate resort complete with hookers, and they get ready to leave, and our guy suddenly jumps up and says. ‘But wait! ‘ What about the big picture? ’ And they all look at him like he’s crazy. ‘The big picture!’ he says again. ‘What about the big picture?’ And the chairman of the hoard looks at him with absolute amazement and says. ‘Man, you mean to tell me you were on that fucking hill. too?’”
Hunter burst out laughing. “Give me that gun.” said Linda. ‘I’m gonna shoot him.”
“Got a permit?” Neilson asked.
You go to hell.”
Delaney walked in the door. “Dinner’s on,” he said. He glanced around at them. “What’s the joke?”
You ever hear the one about the big picture?” Neilson asked.
Delaney grimaced, “Yeah. I was the idiot on that fucking hill. Now come on. well have the briefing during dinner.
8
The small, secluded country chapel stood in the middle of a grove of trees, well hidden from the road. The estate on whose property it stood was out of sight over the next hill. It belonged to a wealthy Boston Tory who only made use of it on weekends, except on those nights when the Hellfire Club met. On those nights, he would saddle up his horse and ride over to the chapel. tie the horse up outside in the grove, take the hooded black robe out of his saddlebag and tie it around him with a monk’s cord, then put on the black mask that covered his entire upper face and join the “congregation.” He always felt a profound thrill of anticipation at such times, like a small boy about to do something that he knew was wrong. His young wife, with whom he had sexual relations perhaps once a month, would have been surprised at the vigor with which he participated in the night’s events.
It was late and the moon was full as John Hewitt rode up to the chapel in his carriage with Lucas Priest and Finn Delaney. When told that “young Andrew” would not be joining them. Hewitt had merely shrugged and said. As you think best.” Then he grinned and added, “But it would have been a good education for the lad.”
The grove was already full of horses and several carriages, being attended to by servants. Finn and Lucas both noticed several men moving about, armed with muskets, pistols, and swords. A wooden table stood not far away, beneath the trees, with several men seated around it, drinking wine, smoking their pipes, and playing cards by lamplight. Several more men were gathered around a crackling fire. Except for the carriages, the scene resembled the camp of a band of forest brigands.
“It seems that most everyone’s arrived.” said Hewitt. He reached beneath the seat of the carriage and pulled out two black parcels tied with cords. “Put these on.” he said.
They were the robes and masks.
Now remember the rules.” said Hewitt in a somber tone. “You are not to ask anybody’s name, under any circumstances. This is a secret brotherhood.”
“How can it be secret when you all seem to know one another?” Delaney asked.
Hewitt looked irritated at the question. “That is another matter. Once the vestments have been donned, each man is without a name. We are all merely secret brothers of the Hellfire Club. Keep your vestments on at all times, and especially you must not remove your masks nor ask anyone else to remove theirs. You may not leave until the meeting is concluded. The doors to the chapel shall be bolted, if you need to relieve yourself at any time, use the side door of the chapel and follow the path to the outhouse. Remember that wandering about outside is not permitted. There are guards on duty. We must protect ourselves against unwanted intruders. Afterward, we shall meet back here at the carriage. Any questions?”
Delaney glanced at Lucas. “No. no questions,” he said. “Shall we ‘don our vestments.’ brother?” Lucas gave him a warning
glance and Delaney rolled his eyes. They put on their robes and masks and stepped out of the carnage, allowing Hewitt to proceed ahead of them.
“I feel like Zorro disguised as a monk,” whispered Delaney.
“Keep a handle on it, Finn.” Lucas whispered back.
“Shouldn’t we be chanting something?” said Delaney.
They joined a group of silent, hooded figures moving through the chapel doors. Spread out and hidden in the woods around them, dressed in black and with their faces camouflaged, were the other two commando teams, ready to move in quickly it anything went wrong or if Nikolai Drakov put in an appearance, though it was doubtful if they’d recognize him among all the hooded figures. They had no idea what they could expect, so they were prepared for anything. The armed guards moving around outside presented no real problem. The commandos could easily stay out of their sight, and if, by chance, one of them were spotted, the guard would be quickly rendered unconscious before an alarm could be given. Inside the chapel, the glow of candlelight provided a dim, shadowy illumination. The pews had been removed and in their stead were wooden tables, chairs, and benches with cushions, giving the interior of the chapel the aspect of some bizarre religious coffeehouse. There was no altar, merely a tall wooden pulpit looking down upon the congregation. The robed figures were seated at the tables, many of them smoking, while masked women, dressed in white robes, moved among the tables, serving drinks. The soft undertone of conversation was broken only by the rustling of robes, the sound of pewter mugs being put down on wooden tables, some coughing and the tapping out of pipes.
“You believe this?” whispered Delaney, standing close to Lucas. They had lost sight of Hewitt, who had vanished among the hooded figures.
“I figure at least forty, fifty men,” said Lucas, glancing around.
They found a table and sat down. A white-robed woman, hooded and with a white mask tied around her face, leaving only her eyes, mouth, and chin visible, wordlessly set down two mugs of wine before them. She gave them a knowing smile and proceeded on to the next table. Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of the chapel organ playing a dirgelike, somber melody and the white-robed figures all retreated to the back room. Everybody stood. A man robed and masked in black like all the others mounted the pulpit and stood with his hands braced on the sides, surveying the room. The organ stopped and there was silence.
“Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!” the man at the pulpit said, in a loud voice that echoed through the chapel.
“Hellfire to the Sons of Liberty!” the congregation responded in chorus.
“Be seated, brothers.” They sat with a rustling of robes.
“You recognize the voice?” Delaney whispered.