“Of course. I understand completely. Maybe no one will notice.”
We walked into the chapel and I noticed Hatchet was there. He was naked, hanging upside down from a hook in the ceiling.
“Greetings, wench,” Hatchet said. “I fear you doth have thrown me under the bus.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking. It was one of those spur-of-the-moment things.”
“You can take your place of honor, here by the altar,” Rutherford said to me.
I was trying to stay calm. I needed to be vigilant. If an opportunity arose for escape I had to be ready.
“How is this going to happen?” I asked Rutherford.
“I believe Mr. Ammon has settled on strangulation. It’s much less messy than a bullet or a knife. This is our first human sacrifice, so we’re learning as we go.”
“How long are you going to have Hatchet hanging there?”
“Until he tells us where he hid the treasure.”
“He didn’t hide the treasure. I lied to you. Diesel and I took the bins out of the vault and gave the treasure away.”
“Very admirable. Noble, even, that you should want to help Mr. Hatchet. I would expect no less from you. A charming gesture.”
“Thou be a pig’s behind,” Hatchet said to Rutherford.
“Ha-ha. Yes, yes. Good one,” Rutherford said.
Martin Ammon entered and pretended not to notice Hatchet. “H
er hands aren’t tied,” Ammon said to Rutherford. “Honestly, what have you been doing all this time? Mammon is impatient.”
“Well, ah, ha-ha, I was never instructed to tie her hands,” Rutherford said.
“Standard protocol is to tie the victim’s hands,” Ammon said.
“My mistake,” Rutherford said. “I’ll have them tied immediately.” He looked over at the four men standing guard at the door. “Charles, would you be so kind as to secure Miss Tucker for us.”
Charles stepped forward, took a flexible plastic handcuff from his back pocket, and tied my hands behind my back. Rutherford smiled and looked expectantly at Ammon.
“Much better,” Ammon said, “but she should be kneeling.”
Rutherford rushed to my side and helped me kneel.
“We can now begin,” Ammon said, very solemnly. “Rutherford, clear the room.”
Rutherford nodded to the four men standing to one side, and they silently left the room and closed the door.
“Do you have the Book of Mammon?” Ammon asked Rutherford.
“Indeed,” Rutherford said, all smiles. “Yes, yes. It’s right here on the altar, turned to the appropriate page.”
“And the Avaritia Stone?”
“Also on the altar in its special container.”
Ammon stepped forward and removed the stone from an engraved silver container, and I could see it was glowing a brilliant green.
“Ahhhh,” Ammon said. “I feel the power. Who am I, Rutherford?”