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COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Translated from the Romanian by Petru Iamandi
Copyright © 2000 by Editura Dominus
Translation Copyright © 2012 by Petru Iamandi
Published by Wildside Press LLC
www.wildsidebooks.com
DEDICATION
To the Memory of Christian Russell (Cristian Rus)
PROLOGUE
But see, amid the mimic rout,
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
—Edgar Allan Poe, “The Conqueror Worm”
Clyde Daschner was changing. His excitement had reached its climax. All his senses were powerfully active again. He was able to see, hear, and even feel through every pore of his skin. And all this was happening while he was thinking that he would turn into a flame again, that he would become Thanatos again.
Although he had never read Maxim Gorky, for the younger of the Daschner brothers there were only two ways of living: burning and rotting. After having been burning like a torch for many years, he had lately entered a phase of slow decay. For more than two years now his world, the world where he had been living and which he had considered his only habitat, had disappeared leaving room for another. A world in which the monotony of daily life and the wantonness of social relations seemed to be crying to heaven, begging for a change. To this pathetic corner of a cold sad world he was going to add a little dynamism.
First he would turn New York into a huge hunting ground. The trophies he was after belonged to a single species called the Whellers, that is the four members of a wealthy clan: Senator Henry Wheller, his brother, Ralph Wheller the actor, and his two daughters, Sarah and Dorothy. This was a matter of personal revenge and he would not need anybody’s help to complete it.
At Christmas, however, the hunting ground would expand to six big cities in the States. He had been planning this operation carefully for the past few weeks and he was going to supervise it. He would personally take care of the operations here, in the city.
In each of the other cities there was one loyal member of the organization. All of them had received the necessary materials and he would soon send them the plans of the attempts proper. The five men were all that was left from the ‘Rebels of the Light’ organization, beside the Chink and Eddie Druller.
The hits on several American cities had been ordered by a powerful Arab businessman. Thanatos had worked for him before, in 1995 and 1996. He had organized bomb attempts and shot some Afghans who were seen as anti-Islamic. And all this for good money. Like before, the tycoon had contacted Druller by e-mail. He had asked him whether he knew someone who could cause America massive bleeding on its own territory. He seemed to be very angry on account of the American missile attacks on several military bases in Sudan and Afghanistan. The computer specialist had asked Clyde what to tell him. “Tell him you’ve got someone, but don’t tell him it’s me. Not even he must know Thanatos is still alive.”
Eddie had looked at him puzzled. “And how much should I ask for a thing that big?” he had asked him. “Let the Arab set the price,” came the answer. Druller had told him that he behaved like Ronin.
“That’s what I am,” Thanatos had explained to him, “a mercenary who’s lost his Master not being there to protect him, and now has to expiate by serving others and thus prepare his revenge.” Fortunately, the Arab had been extremely generous and paid in advance. With that money he had updated his electronic equipment and makeup kits and purchased large amounts of explosives. More than that, he had been able to finance Eddie to build the ‘Island.’
He wanted the first version ready before killing Dorothy Wheller. It was absolutely necessary to take her to the ‘Island’ right before she died, to bring her face to face with the one she had betrayed and whose death she had caused, his brother Daniel.
Thanatos was aware that while doing away with the Whellers he would be vulnerable too. He would be the hunter and the prey at the same time, cornering his victims and enjoying the moment of their making the Passing while trying to escape the piercing eyes of the other hunters, who were so many and so dangerous: the cops and the FBI agents. It was a game he knew all too well, whose rules and strategies had no more secrets for him and whose scenario he himself had written most of the time.
Until the summer of 1996, in his good years when he really lived, he had felt the hot breath of the others on the back of his neck all the time. Sometimes he had even guessed their triumphant smile but every time he had managed to slip through their fingers. Moreover, many times he had turned his frowning face to them and struck them like lightning, decimating them. Now, however, things would be even more interesting for they thought him dead. He had a new identity, a new job, and a new life even if that made him extremely sick. And his new look had been Daniel’s good-bye present: plastic surgery and a full set of papers in the name of Roy Hussel, a lawyer specialized in minors’ rights. How many times had he looked at that strange face in the mirror? Two years had passed and he still hadn’t grown used to it. Anyway, it had been worth waiting for the moment of great revenge had come at last. And when all the accounts with the Whellers were settled he would spend most of his time on the ‘Island.’ Yes, that was the best compensation for all the sacrifices and all the deprivations of the past two years. Last night he had let himself be carried away by that hunter feeling again. He had been forced to get rid of the Chink who had been his 481st victim.
Lately the guy had grown nosy, started asking more and more questions. A couple of times he had caught him whispering something to Druller, stopping abruptly each time he showed up. Besides, he was of no more use to him. He couldn’t help Eddie either for he couldn’t tell a computer from a TV set. So.... To his surprise, he had felt some sort of regret seeing him fall to the floor with that hole in his head. It was odd, for in this trade there was no place for regret. He had experienced that once, years before, but since then....
After all, the Chink had been a useful tool to him for more than eight years. Anyway, killing him had drawn Thanatos’s attention toward himself. The sweat waves, the dry mouth, and quickened pulse were definite signs, parts of a message his nervous system was sending to remind him that two years of inactivity had already passed and that his agility and self-control needed training.
Now there was only one man left who knew what Thanatos’s face looked like: Eddie. Actually, until that fatal day of August 18th, 1996, when his identity was revealed and he was forced to feign his own death, only five persons had known Thanatos’s real identity: his brother and mentor, Daniel, Eddie Druller, the Chink, Ayash the ‘Engineer,’ and one of the Awdallah brothers. But Daniel had been executed and Ayash’s skull had been blown away by a mobile phone full of explosive. Adel Awdallah was also dead now and so was the Chink whom he had been forced to finish off because he had become ambitious and was bad company for the computer specialist. Thinking of Druller, Thanatos realized something had been wrong with him lately. Yesterday, for example, he had asked him how much he wanted the destruction of the Whellers. Was he going to pry into his business
