***
The two stone-faced men brought Star to the messiah’s quarters on the penultimate floor of the tower. Gently, but with no consideration, they pushed her through the doorway.
“Thank you, boys,” Star said. “Nice to see that chivalry is still around.”
They looked at each other blankly and closed the door. A key grated in the lock. Star glanced around her new surroundings.
She’d been here before, on her first visit to Pickle Lake Castle. She had spent the last night in this room with Winston and Iri. Little had they known that, all the while, the Visionists were lurking in the castle’s nether regions behind their iron door.
Actually, Iri had sensed that something was wrong, but they had not investigated his suspicions. Just as well. Had they breached that iron door, they would have probably run into a hail of gunfire.
She strolled around the large main chamber. It looked much the same – lavish oriental carpets spread on the floor, fine wooden furniture, gas lights providing subdued illumination. A huge bed with ornate posts dominated one corner. It was flanked by end tables, each bearing a heavy silver candlestick.
Star pushed her hands against the mattress. It recoiled firmly against the pressure.
“Mmm, nice.”
Of course the Visionists had been hiding in the basement during their first visit. Where else could they have been?
Star did not possess Winston’s brilliant, analytical mind, but she could draw the obvious conclusions. The “messiah” and his followers had been down there waiting for the end of the world to pass over them. The ones who didn’t make the cut had died around the lake shore – or had been slaughtered.
Yes, the messiah was capable of murder. Star had seen it in his eyes, smoldering amid his feverish sexuality. It had stimulated her, drawn her toward him, made her want to grasp his throbbing power.
But it’s wrong!
She pushed the evil emotion from her consciousness, succeeding for the most part. But it still hovered in the background, taunting and beckoning. Her nipples had gone erect, brushing sensually against the fabric of her blouse. She felt her lower regions becoming warm ... She turned her attention back to the furnishings.
Tapestries of a religious nature covered the windows and some of the walls. Star examined one of them closely. Her standard knowledge pack contained rudimentary details of the Christian faith, and she recognized the man riding on a donkey to be Jesus of Nazareth, the Christian messiah. He was entering an ancient city called Jerusalem.
The tapestry workmanship was exquisite, but somebody had inked in crude extra details. An assault rifle was now strapped to Jesus’ shoulder.
“Oh, my!”
The effect was profoundly disturbing somehow – twisted. In addition to the rifle, a belt now girded Jesus’ waist from which hand grenades hung like toxic fruit.
Star retreated across the chamber and entered a lavish bathroom. It was all tricked out in marble and gold, including a large tub with water jets set into the floor. Star nodded and smiled wickedly.
“This is more like it!”
Her lust routines included a program called “Jacuzzi sex.” Here would be the perfect venue for an experiment.
Her gaze fell upon a counter with various drug paraphernalia arranged upon it, including needles and bottles of pills. The messiah seemed to require chemical help to keep his “mission” going. Star did not know the specifics of the items on the counter. Winston would know more about them.
Winston ... will I ever see you again?