Stone of Fire: An ARKANE Thriller (Book 1)

Chapter 17

Tucson, Arizona, USA
 May 20, 10.08pm

      Jose Ramirez pulled the blanket closer around him as he curled into the doorway, trying to make himself invisible. He had walked most of the day, always moving, to avoid the police who seemed to be on every corner. He had tried to cultivate an air of going somewhere, of being on an errand. He didn’t want to seem journey-less. Arizona was cracking down on illegal immigrants, but how did America expect them to stop coming when there was opportunity here, even if you had to fight to get it? Jose had spent his last coins on a meal earlier and considered how he would make it through tomorrow. Maybe his cousin would help out, if he could only make it that far north. But at least the Tucson streets were warm enough all year round to make waking up tomorrow a likely event. Jose started to feel sleep easing him away from the hard ground, when a vehicle pulled up near him, engine idling. He lay motionless, hoping it was not the police or immigration come to take him away. If he stayed very still, perhaps they wouldn’t even see him.
     A car door slammed and footsteps came towards him. No chance of escaping notice then, he thought. He sat straight up, preferring to see who it was, to give himself a chance if he needed to run. A man stood in front of him dressed in black fitted clothes. He didn’t look like a cop. A van marked ‘Tucson State Shelter’ was parked on the road behind him.
“Do you need somewhere to stay?” the man asked. “We have a shelter and food for the night. You shouldn’t be on the streets.”
“I’m OK here, man. I’m moving on tomorrow. Thanks for the offer.”
“There may be work tomorrow if you come with us.” The man was insistent. “We have some construction going on at the shelter. You could help out and earn some cash. You need some money right now?”
     Jose considered his options. The money would definitely come in handy. He ignored his misgivings and nodded. Then he picked up his blanket and meager bag of possessions and walked towards the van. The man opened the back and waved him inside.
     Jose realized his mistake as soon as the door shut behind him. Another man was hidden within, who grabbed him as soon as he stepped inside. Slammed down on the floor, he felt a needle being pushed into his neck. He struggled wildly, shouting as the van drove off until the drugs silenced him. There was no one to hear him on the street outside, and security cameras would only show a homeless man being helped to shelter for the night. No one would report him missing. No one even knew he was there.

***

     Jose woke up to the dull thunk of wood being chopped. It was a sound he knew well from his childhood in Mexico where he would cut wood for the cooking fire with his father. His head was fuzzy but he could feel his hands tied behind him and his feet secured tightly. He opened his eyes and realized he was strapped to a wooden post, stacked firewood around his legs. A gag was wrapped around his mouth, the stink of smoke and some other rank smell on the material. A man was watching him. A tall slim figure, expensively dressed, who caressed a stone that lay in the palm of his hand.
     “The Lord’s fire purifies as well as destroys.” The man said with a smooth tone, as if he were a professor giving a lecture to interested students, not to a terrified homeless man tied to a post. “Fire has been part of ritual sacrifice through many geographies and to many gods. It was the death assigned to martyrs of the Christian faith, and was a favored instrument of mercy for the Dominicans in the auto da fe of the Spanish Inquisition. You are in esteemed company, my friend.”
     The drugs had completely worn off now and Jose began to struggle as another man began piling up smaller logs and kindling around his legs, stacking it close.
     ‘Please,’ Jose tried to speak and plead with his eyes. ‘Why?’ was the question on his lips. The firewood was piled high enough now, and the man leaned in to look at him more closely. He reached forward and put the stone over Jose’s head so it hung against his chest. Jose could feel the weight of it, coolness against his flesh, and yet he knew it would soon be searing pain.
     “This stone is a blessing for you. You should be honored that I have chosen you to die in this way, wearing the stone of the Apostles, symbol of the brotherhood in Christ.”
     He stepped back and signaled to the man behind him, who brought out a can of gasoline. He sloshed it over Jose and the pile of wood beneath him. Jose struggled again in his bonds, seeing his death upon him and terrified of the pain to come. He screamed against his gag, the throttled noise stifled by material that was now drenched in gasoline. He shut his eyes in fear, feeling the soaked clothes he stood in and whimpering, praying wildly for some miracle to save him. Then Jose heard the click of a lighter, and the man lit a taper.
     “So long, my friend. Let the fire take you through.”
     The light dipped, small flames crackled and began to take hold. The initial warmth grew quickly to sparks which caught on the gasoline, exploding into tongues of flame, engulfing Jose. His legs began to burn and he howled into the gag as the agony spread, obliterating his consciousness. He died with a last prayer on his blackened lips. It was only a few minutes before the skin on the man’s body had burnt through and flames consumed his flesh.
     Joseph Everett stood watching, engrossed in the patterns of the fire, a wet cloth over his mouth and nose to block the stench of gasoline and cooking flesh. He watched for the moment the man died, his spirit transfigured into flame, a meditation of life into death. He gazed as the glowing stone burnt into the man’s flesh, bright gold lit by the dancing fire. This was how the spiritual masters felt when their souls were refined, he thought with triumph. This was the moment of glory.
     The fire was just embers and ashes when he removed the stone. He cracked it from the burnt chest cavity and pulled it over the corpse’s head. Joseph didn’t touch it, but wrapped it in a pure white linen cloth, feeling the last of the warmth it contained. Then he headed out in the dawn, back towards the city and the hospital, leaving his men to clean up the mess. Perhaps this time …

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