Devil's Agents

DEVIL’S AGENTS

by

E. Claudius Thompson

Devil’s Agents

Earl Thompson

Copyright 2011, Earl Thompson

Smashwords Edition

CHAPTER 1

The table was set for two. There was a dish with salad, one with Curry Chicken, and another with rice; there was also a bottle of Canai wine on the table. In front of each person on the table, there was a glass.

Pauline was a good-looking, middle aged Caucasian woman; Cara was her teenage daughter. Lately the two had been having arguments, and Pauline was trying to make up with her only daughter.

Pauline Malcolm was a Christian, and she had brought up Cara to be one, but since lately Cara had been ignoring church, and Pauline had been worried. Cara was more interested in going to parties and staying out late with friends.

As they sat at the table and had their meals, Pauline was trying to find out why Cara had decided not to go to church anymore.

Mom, it’s not that I don’t want to go to church, but since lately I’ve been having so much homework.

But you know that if you ask God to help you, he will, and then you wouldn’t have to spend so much time away from church.

Mom, God understands.

But what if everyone should stay away from church and say God understands, what do you think would happen?

Her daughter looks sadly at her; she sighed resignedly, Mom, can we talk about something else? We seem to be arguing over God so much lately.

Only because you won’t go to church.

Well, I won’t be going for a while, mom; so what’s going to happen?

Pastor Johns said that we’re supposed to be teaching people about God, but if we can’t teach our own…

...Mom, Pastor Johns seems to be the centre of your life.

That’s not true; he is a good Pastor.

Well, if he is such a good pastor, why does he keep insisting that you give a week salary whenever time Easter comes around? He knows you haven’t got a husband.

He is just doing what God asks him to do.

So you believe that God asked him to demand from you a week salary, even when you can’t afford to give it?

We shouldn’t think of what we’re giving God, because he has given us so much.

Mom, the money that you give him is not going to God.

Pauline had a look of horror on her face when she looked at her daughter. Why do you say that?

Mom, we all know that the money we give to Pastor Johns doesn’t go to God; God doesn’t want money.

Sweetheart, God said that we should pay our tithes.

What do the tithes do for us?

I don’t ask; I just do as God requested.

Mom, I don’t trust these pastors these days.

Pastor Johns is not like those pastors you see on television.

What’s the difference, Mom? They’re all rich. Pastor Johns is rich.

Pastor Johns is a medical doctor.

Well, I think he makes more money from tithes than he does from his practice.

We’re not talking about Pastor Johns; we’re talking about you. Pastor Johns’ soul is right with God; yours is not.

Mom, church has got to be put on hold; I can’t find the time to go now; I have too much work to do.

Pastor Johns…

Cara pushed out her chair and got up angrily from around the table. Mom, all you talk about is pastor Johns. What is wrong with you? Pastor Johns is like God to you.

That’s not true, Cara.

Cara walked away in the direction of her room.

Cara!

She didn’t respond; she kept on walking.

Her mom got up and went after her. When she got to Cara’s room, her door was closed.

Pauline knocked.

Mom, leave me alone.

Cara, I’m sorry.

It’s not the end of the world, Mom; if I don’t go to church I’m not going to stop the world from spinning.

Cara, you’re my daughter; I don’t want your soul to be lost.

My soul is not going to be lost, Mom.

Cara, I love you, I’m sorry. Are you going to drink your wine?

I’ll drink it later, Mom.

Cara, I don’t want to fight; it’s just that I love you so much.

Mom, if you love me, give me a chance to be myself. Let me make my own decisions.

Okay, sweetheart.

I’ll be out in a while, Mom; I just need some time to cool off.

Okay, dear.

The phone rang. Pauline went into the kitchen for it. Hello.

We’re waiting, said a male voice.

She didn’t drink it, she said softly.

What’s happening?

We had a little argument and she left before she drank.

You know what you’ve got to do.

Yes.

Do it! We’re waiting.

Yes.

She heard the phone hung up at the other end and she sadly hung up too. She walked back up to Cara’s door and knocked. Cara, I promise I won’t bother you about church again if you just drink a glass of wine with me.

You promise?

Yes.

Okay. Cara opened the door.

Her mother led the way back to the table. Sit.

Cara took a seat. Her mother opened the wine and poured a drink in her glass. Cara took up the glass and looked at the wine as it bubbled up. She smiled, This is my favourite wine. I remember when we use to drink it a lot, Mom.

Her mother smiled at her.

Cara looked at her mom who was still standing with the bottle in her had. Aren’t you going to pour yourself some?

Yeah, but taste it, tell me what you think about it.

Mom, I know how this wine tastes.

It’s different; just taste it.

Okay. She tasted it. Mm, delicious. She drank all of it and held out her glass for more. Her mom enthusiastically poured more into her glass.

Be careful you don’t get drunk, her Mom said.

She laughed, Mom, this only has seven percent alcohol, it would take two bottles for me to get drunk. She drank again. She placed the glass on the table. Suddenly, she looked sick. She held her stomach, Mom, I’m not feeling well. She stood, but on unsteady legs, Mom, my head is spinning. She started walking toward her room. I… feel… sick. Suddenly she fell. Mom, help, she said weakly, help... me.

Then she was silent.

Her mom went for the phone and dialled a number; It is done. She is out on the floor.

Good. We’re coming in.

She hung up.

Two well-dressed, decent looking men came into the house; one was an African American, he was Doctor Michael Johns; he was from Africa; he spoke with an accent, but spoke good English. His partner was Winston Riley; he was from Canada; he was a Caucasian, but he had moved to America at an early age.

They picked up Cara and took her out.

Pauline followed behind them.

The street was deserted. This was a side of town where everyone kept to his or herself. At eight o’clock in the night, the street appeared as if no one lived there. This was something Pastor Johns was aware of, and something he was glad for.

I’m going to put her in her car, said Pastor Johns; he was the bigger of the two. Have you got her keys?

Pauline quickly produced a set of keys; she unlocked the car and opened the back door.

Cara was placed in.

Pastor Johns closed the door. He looked at his companion, Winston, you take our car, I’ll take this one.

Sure. Winston walked to the car and got in.

Pastor Johns took the keys from Pauline.

He looked at her; he saw the sad look on her face. He put reassuring hands on her shoulders, I know how you feel, Sister Malcolm, but this is for the best. This world is full of sin, and we’re the only ones who can cleanse it. But first we have got to start with our own homes.

Pauline had tears in her eyes when she responded, I was hoping she would come to her senses and go to church and get back God in her life.

She prefers the world and what it has to offer. The bible said we should be in the world, but not of this world. You know your daughter is possessed and there is only one thing that can be done to cleanse her soul.

Pauline shook her head understandingly.

Believe me, Sister Malcolm; you’re doing the right thing.

She looked into his eyes, Then why does it feel so terrible?

I wish I could tell you, Sister Malcolm. Just think of the wonderful life she will be having living in Heaven with God.

I’ll try.

If we don’t do this, then her entire life will go to the devil; the only way the devil can have her soul is unless she dies with her heart intact, you know that.

Again she shook her head understandingly.

Do you wanna come with us?

Pauline shook her head.

Okay, come with me.

Pauline got in the car with Pastor Johns. He started the engine and drove out behind Winston.

Pastor Johns was dressed as he would normally be when he was doing surgery. He was in his scrubs and had a cap on his head. Pastor Johns was tall, approximately six, two and solidly built.

Pauline was with him; she still looked sad.

Sister Malcolm, you’ve got to trust God, you’ve put the life of your daughter in his hands, and everything will be fine.

Why do I feel this way, Pastor?

It’s natural for you to feel this way, but after this is over, you’ll feel better, I can assure you. It’s the same thing when a child is being born; the mother feels pain, but after that it’s joy. Consider this a new birth.

I trust you, pastor; I trust God too.

Very well. I’m going to have to go in now; they are waiting on me.

Be gentle with her, pastor.

Sister Malcolm, she won’t feel a thing, I promise you.

Thanks.

Okay, I’ll see you. Pastor Johns went inside the room.

The room was a theatre, looked exactly like a normal theatre room at a hospital. The nurses were there dressed and awaiting the doctor; they all had their faces covered. Cara was lying motionless on the table. Doctor Woodrow Baker, the anaesthesiologist was also there. Pastor Johns offered to say a prayer before he began.

Everyone closed their eyes and bowed their heads.

"Father God, we are once again in your presence, and we’re doing what you requested of us; we’re ridding the world of evil and saving your people from the evil one.

God, we asked that you guide us and protect us.

Father, we know that if we want to do your work, we have to start with our own and Sister Malcolm did the right thing when she offered to save her daughter’s life by ridding her body of the evil one. Once again we say thanks for the authority you have given us over evil. All this we ask in Jesus’ name.

Everyone said amen.

He proceeded with the surgery.

CHAPTER 2

Steve Richardson, an African American, sturdily built, was asleep that morning when he got the call. He quickly sat up in bed. At first he was a bit disoriented; he didn’t know what had brought him out of his slumber.

But then when the phone rang again he realized.

He reached for the cordless phone on the night table and dropped back onto his back. Hello, he said, a little groggy.

It was his partner, Nicolette Rancher, Hey, time to get up, man; it’s daylight.

I know it’s daylight. What time is it?

Seven o’clock.

What are you doing up so early?

I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come in early.

You know what you need, Nicolette?

Yeah, a man, I’ve been told that on too many occasions. We found a stiff.

We?

You know what I mean, the police here found a stiff.

Is it murder?

It looks like it. The heart of the victim is missing.

What do you mean?

The coroner said the heart was surgically removed.

You mean a doctor may have done it?

It’s possible. But the weird thing is, it was done when the victim was alive.

Steve sat up in bed; his interest now arose, You’re kidding?

No, I’m serious. The way it was done, the doctor felt it was done with the person under anaesthesia, just like when a surgery is being done.

Are you trying to tell me that we have a psycho doctor somewhere out there?

Yeah.

Does anyone know the name of the victim?

Not yet, the body was badly decomposed. They are going to try to use the person’s dental work. It appears to be a young female anyway, maybe in her teens.

I’m going to get dressed; I’ll see you at the office.

Sure. Nicolette hung up.

Steve hung up and got out of bed.

Nicolette Rancher was an attractive Caucasian woman. She was tall and had blonde hair she cut short, giving her the appearance of a tomboy, a very attractive one. She was twenty-eight years of age and was single. She had been married once already, but it didn’t work out, and she swore she was not going to do it again.

Her co-workers were very fond of her and kept asking when she was going to marry again, but her response was always that she would never. However, she got along well with Steve; they had been partners for the past two years and had become real close.

That morning as Steve walked into the office, he was met by Nicolette; she as usual was dressed in her pants suit, however, her jacket was hanging on the wall behind her; she wore a shoulder holster with a 9mm, pistol; she was as sexy as always.

Steve was dressed in his suit; he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, he too wore a shoulder holster with the said pistol as Nicolette.

Anything more about this stiff? he asked.

Nicolette was searching for a document in the filing cabinet; she looked at him with a mischievous smile, No good morning, nothing?

Steve drew up a chair and sat around his desk, Forgive me. Good morning.

That’s better. Good morning. And yes, we have something new on this stiff. We have an I.D.

Steve smiled, That’s good, so you get to give the bad news. I did it the last time, remember?

Come on, Steve, you know how I hate doing that.

She found what she was looking for and closed the cabinet. She moved from around her desk and came and sat around the desk in front of Steve. She pushed a piece of paper in front of him. Steve took it up and looked at it. Name is Sherone Taylor, eighteen, lives at 6552 NW 115 Terrace. He looked up at Nicolette, a smile on his face. It’s just around the corner; you can walk there.

Steve, you’re not going to do this to me, Nicolette said piteously.

Steve laughed, I’m just kidding, we go there together, and you can tell the mom.

Steve, please.

Steve put away the paper; he looked at her, Has anyone ever told you that you’re too soft for this job, Lieutenant Rancher?

Yeah.

Who?

My mom.

You should have believed her.

I’m not too soft, she said adamantly, I just hate giving bad news.

It’s a part of the job. Steve got up and picked up his jacket; he proceeded to put it on, Let’s go.

Nicolette reached for her jacket and proceeded to put it on. I hate the way the weather is these days, she said.

You can say that again. He started to walk toward the door; he stopped and looked at her, anything below sixty is too cold for me.

Nicolette joined him, I hear you. Together they walked out.

The house was a bungalow. In the driveway there was a brand new Camry. Steve parked the un-marked police car behind it and both alighted. Steve walked ahead of Nicolette up to the door and knocked. Nicolette joined him at the door, looking around cautiously.

The door was opened by a petite, good-looking middle aged Caucasian woman, who was dressed in a white uniform with a white coat over it; she appeared to be hairdresser.

Steve took out his badge and identified himself and Nicolette. I’m Lieutenant Steve Richardson, this is my partner Lieutenant Nicolette Rancher; we’re from the Sunrise Police.

And to what do I owe this honour?

Do you mind if we come in?

Is this going to be long, officer? I have to go to work.

We won’t make it long.

Okay. She opened the door for them to go in. once they were inside, she closed it and led them to a cosy living room. She showed them to seats and sat opposite them.

Steve took out his notebook, Are you Mrs. Taylor?

Yes.

Is your husband here?

My husband died quite a few years ago.

You have a daughter by the name of Sherone Taylor, don’t you?

Yes, I reported her missing a few weeks ago.

Well, I’m afraid we have bad news.

Oh, my God, she is dead? She suddenly looked real sad.

Steve shook his head, I’m afraid so.

How did it happen?

The Coroner thinks that her heart was taken out, that’s how she died.

My God, must have been terrible for her, my poor baby. She had tears in her eyes.

Mrs. Taylor, are you a member of any religious organisation?

She shook her head, through her tears, she said, Yes.

Are you a Christian?

Yes, but what has this got to do with my religion?

Nothing really, I just felt like asking.

My church is called ‘The Church’.

Just ‘The Church’? Steve asked, showing surprise.

Yes. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. You see, we believe that the Church is the body of Christ, so we thought that that would be the best name to call the building in which we are housed.

Steve wrote down the information.

She started to cry again, My baby, my baby, oh my God, my baby. All the while shaking her head as if she were unable to believe what she was hearing.

Do you remember the name of the police that you reported the missing case to?

She shook her head indicating no.

Steve got to his feet; Nicolette followed suit. I’m sorry, Mrs. Taylor, I wish we had found her before this happened, but we didn’t; I’m really sorry, Steve reiterated.

Mrs. Taylor was too sad to respond verbally; she shook her head once again.

We’ll take our leave, Mrs. Taylor; you don’t have to show us out.

Steve and Nicolette walked toward the door and let themselves out.

As they walked toward the car, Nicolette asked, Why did you asked her about her religion?

I don’t know, he said, shrugging. For some reason this remind me of some ritual.

You mean you think she was sacrificed?

Possibly.

So do you think the mother may have had something to do with this?

Nicolette reached the car first and opened her door. She however didn’t get in. With one foot inside she held the door opened and looked at Steve over the roof of the car. He was opening his door. He looked at her; She looked to me like she was genuinely shocked.

Yeah, she looked that way to me too, unless she is a very good actress.

Steve got in the car and so did Nicolette. He started the engine.

Mrs. Taylor walked to the garage, which had now been turned into a den. Surreptitiously she moved the blinds that were drawn and watched as the car pulled out of the driveway and went onto the road. She watched until the car left and then she went into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

She dialled a number.

A male voice answered; it sounded like Pastor Johns. Yes, he said aggressively, as if he resented being disturbed.

They found the body.

Has the cop questioned you as yet?

They just left.

What did you tell them?

I told them I reported her missing.

What else?

Nothing, they were trying to console me.

Didn’t they ask you anything else? he asked in a tone which indicated that he didn’t believe her.

They asked me if I were a Christian.

What did you tell them?

I told them I am.

You also told them what church?

Mrs. Taylor was a bit hesitant in answering.

Did you tell them what church? he asked, this time with a bit more authority in his voice.

Yes.

Don’t be afraid, Sister Taylor; everything is fine.

So what are we going to do?

We’ll give the body a proper burial.

Okay.

I’ll see you in church on Sunday.

Yes.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Mrs. Taylor hung up the phone and picked up her pocketbook off the table; she exited the house.

When they arrived back at the office, Cameron Copeland, a tall, lanky uniform police officer spoke to them; he was Caucasian. I heard you guys went to see Mrs. Taylor, he began.

Yeah. You know about her? Steve asked.

I was the one she reported her daughter missing to.

I assume you’ve made a record of it?

Yeah. The problem is that once she reported it, she never came back and bugged me like a normal parent would have.

What do you mean? Nicolette asked.

He looked at her; Well you know how some parents would be anxiously awaiting the return of their kids?

Yeah, Nicolette said as if she were anxious for him to continue.

Well it seems to me as if she never cared whether she came back or not.

Steve and Nicolette exchanged glances. Nicolette looked at him and asked, Why did you say that?

The way she reported the case you’d think she was just doing it to protect herself.

What made you come to that conclusion? Steve asked.

She wasn’t upset or anything.

Maybe she didn’t think that she would end up dead, Steve said.

Well, whatever, Cameron said noncommittally. I just thought I’d let you know. See you later.

He left them in their office.

Nicolette was standing beside Steve. She was almost as tall as he was; he was six four; she always liked to tease him, often telling him she didn’t want any man she was as tall as. She looked at him; Do you think she was playing when she was crying?

She looked real to me.

She is a hairdresser, isn’t she?

I think so.

So it would be hard to pin a crime on her where the murder was seemed to have been committed by someone who has medical background?

She could be an accessory before the fact.

You mean like she planned it?

Something like that.

The question is, who carried it out?

That’s a good question. We need a good answer.

CHAPTER 3

Steve was having a drink in a sport bar