The Children of Zegandaria - Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (world best books to read txt) 📗

Not everything in the neighborhood revolved around the industrial warehouses and plants or Ecclestone's establishment.

There were other mouth-watering morsels, but first they had to do at least a little exploring.

Savage Ryan wasn't the best shot in this case, but since they were experiencing a definite shortage of people, they had to risk at least a little. Ames was the head man, but Joseph was the man for the operational and organizational part. They figured they would be able to rein in the e-credit trade and take at least fifteen percent each month from any major transaction between the plant managers and the union leaders. They knew that the Maerx refinery was still a big spoon for their mouths.

CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN: THE FATHER'S DEBT

Jeramiah had Father Bonayas summoned and lifted out of bed in the middle of the night. The father did not interpret this as a good omen. Jeramiah was obviously drunk, because when Father entered his office he saw several western bottles, full or half empty, lined up like soldiers on parade.

Jeramiah was quite thoughtful and his expression was grim. He was silent for a moment, then invited the father to sit opposite him. The father didn't hesitate and sat quietly, waiting to hear exactly what he was being called for at any time.

- "Father, I want to make a confession," he pronounced. "This is my last wish."

- "What ails you, my son," the priest tried to be polite, aware of his atrocities but still having to keep his vow.

- "That I am going down the road to Hell is one thing, but that my son is going there is quite another," he snarled.

- "Aren’t you a little late?," the father asked him seriously. "Perhaps it was God's providence. Maybe that's what the Most High himself wanted!"

Jeramiah gave him a peculiar look. But somewhat sadly. He was incapable of feelings. And some called him a living statue of the law, or rather of brutal violence.

- "How long has this prison existed?," the father asked him. "And how long have I been here?"

- "Father, I don't think your salary has ever been a problem," the warden replied, completely calmly.

- "I'm not talking about my money, I'm talking about how this place has changed," the other replied with complete confidence.

- "Everything in this world changes," the director replied. "I never expected that I would have to imprison Boss, and I'm sure he was sent from a very, very high place. But didn't my confession die in your breast."

- "Very poetic of you," the priest wrinkled his brows slightly. "Even so, you must not abuse this sacred duty which I have."

The headmaster got up and went to one corner of his office. He peered through the well-insulated windows and saw the ominous landscape outside. A landscape reminiscent of death. Real sadness. All of nature seemed to be preparing for the apocalypse.

Not far from the prison were the Kangar mines, which were used by the prison authorities to re-educate the prisoners and bring „variety to their daily lives“, but that was not the most important thing.

The Kangar mines were a fearsome place where everyone quickly-quickly gave up their power and fell into despondency. And its End was not far away from there.

- "I wonder," the Director turned to his confessor, "where they think they are. They exist only because of my mercy, and only because of it are they still alive. In fact, I called you, Father, to tell me what happens to the soul of the sufferer at the moment of death?"

- "That is a really interesting question," the holy shepherd animated himself, "you know, science has a very definite opinion on the matter. Although there is still some controversy. Kirlian photography even shows how one's aura changes at the moment of death."

- "Quite interesting," the chief stroked his beard. "Well, to be honest, we have a lot of experienced material here in the prison cemetery."

- You misunderstood me, that only applies to living creatures - the father tried to clarify.

- "That's exactly what I wanted to tell you too," the director confirmed his position, "he's still alive."

- "Who?," the father asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the ominous thought.

- "Well, Boss himself, of course," he announced ominously.

- "How, isn't he dead?," the father was confused.

- I asked you about the souls of the dead, but you gave away an important detail, namely that kirlian photography is being used successfully. By the way, I suppose this method is almost prehistoric, don't you think?

- "Just like the origin of the soul," father countered.

The father spent some time filling him in on the possible applications of this well-known scientific method.

- You, my dear, could really make a brutal psychopath like me think. So you are saying, then, that this method can also detect the presence of neurosis in the individual concerned?

- "Yes," confirmed the father.

- "Then let me show you something," the director prompted him.

They walked through the entire "B" wing of the prison and eventually found themselves next to a specially insulated Kevlar door, behind which something was definitely hidden.

- "Few people actually know that the cemetery is much bigger than it looks," the Director began cryptically.

Father inwardly wished he hadn't agreed to this walk with an unknown ending. He wouldn't have been surprised if the director had decided to wipe him out as well.

There was a secret corridor under the B wing that wasn't very long, but ended in nothing in a way that didn't arouse any suspicions. Once they reached the end of it, Father suddenly saw a terrifying sight.

Turning away from the prison director there was no sign.

One could expect anything in this super strange place. Father set about investigating.

It turned out that there was a hidden door in the wall. He then descended two levels below and again found himself in the same position. He needed to construct many different approaches to move on and really see what was under the prison.

Next was a long, well insulated and kevlar-lined tunnel that offered hope of salvation, and Father headed for it. But here a real solid door with a code was already waiting for him. There was no way - he had to break it and show what he could do.

Father wondered what the code was. And dialed a random number. Naturally nothing happened.

Deep in the bowels of the rooms behind the supermassive door, something stirred.

Father expressed concern that it was Boss - heavily injured and barely breathing. He redoubled his efforts and somehow cracked the code.

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She saw his bloodied, dying face of a sufferer and asked, "What exactly happened?"

- "It's all the Director's doing!," Boss groaned at the edge of his powers. "But down here is the real graveyard of the prison and interesting things happen there."

CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT: THE CEMETERY

Father Bonayas gave the detective one last absolution, for he felt that he had one foot in the grave. He closed his eyes. Dragged his dead body to one corner. And slid down a special ladder to the lower levels. Then stopped at a special elevator - it was neither Emelioran nor Quantum, which led the Father to conclude that the floors down wouldn't be too many. And he turned out to be right. But there were definitely more than he'd expected - ten whole ones. And when he descended the last one he gasped - a whole cryptoshrine that aimed to preserve the genetic pool of humanity, but in a perverse enough way. It wasn't that Father Bonayas was impressed by the ultramodern sarcophagi that held each more valuable specimen, it was how this place on the prison map had slipped from his watchful eye.

How many times had he toured this facility!

It suddenly struck him whether there was a certain symbolism in Detective Boss being drawn to this particular spot, or whether it was just a matter of chance! It wasn't too easy to answer. And why had he been left alive at all, when he could have been killed almost instantly in the insidious attack on the supposed assassin's cell?

Father demanded to go back, and then he realized that there was a higher ideology at work here. The Boss was not deemed worthy enough to be brought to the crypt because perhaps he was not spiritually uplifted according to the notions of those who disposed here. He had simply been left to languish, not so much because of the physical suffering that had most likely gone on for hours, but mainly because he would have felt genuine terror at what awaited him in the afterlife as punishment.

"If a man slay himself, they shall not sing over him, nor make mention of him," father recited the rule of the Nomocanon[66]. "But the detective was just doing his job,' he added under his breath, suddenly realising how disastrously out of sorts Boss was in the eyes of the Most High."

The detective had glimpsed long ago that he had caused a time-space anomaly with his very birth. He had willed himself to live without being sure if this gift was for him.

A consummate professional at his job, he craved to complete every task perfectly, and that was why he had attracted the attention of Gad ‘Di Enn  himself. But deep down, he knew he was simply delaying his own judgment. The whole gang he'd dragged along with him had been driven mainly by collegial affection and the promise of fat profits. It couldn't have been about deeper feelings or any overly sentimental memories of the good old days. They had a job to do and that was that.

Father had a feeling that it was all very, very sad and knew that many things were about to get worse. They would hardly have considered his walk into that part of the prison "innocеnt". Not even the priest would escape a cruel fate.

Even the priest would not escape a cruel fate. Usually they impaled traitors or overly curious onlookers. But since they didn't have stakes in a prison like Shore Tuk 2 it would be easier to string them on a cornian burner and roast them on a spit. This had happened exactly once in the prison's history and no one wanted to suffer a similar fate.

The priest walked around the crypt, feeling mixed feelings. The priest knew that there were fates worse than death, but he was definitely taken aback by all this unnoticed construction of such a