The Ahilist

By Terry Brazier

Identical twins, separated at birth, find themselves on a collision course with survival as the prize.
Brett Stark made a hasty decision in his youth to join the secret Society of Ahilists that promised untold wealthbut at what cost?
Because of Bretts psychopathic personality resulting from the interaction of genetic and environmental factors, hes driven by his lack of any conscience, his sexual appetite, and his lack of empathy for those around him to use his power and wealth to finance crime and murder on the streets of Chicago.
In order for Brett to beat the dead by forty promise hed made to the Society, he must switch places with his twin brother. It wont be easy, though, as his brother is Detective Barry Farnsworth of the Chicago Police Department.
A tapestry of psychology, suspense, romance and fantasy direct the plot to its dramatic and surprising conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496915092

Terry Brazier

Terry Brazier earned his B.A. in psychology and M.B.A. from the University of Missouri. After graduation, he served in the U.S. Marine Corps. His professional career spanned forty years in systems analysis and application programming for a variety of industries and major computer manufacturers. He lives near St. Louis, MO.

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© 2014 Terry Brazier. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/27/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1510-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1509-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PROLOGUE

THE AHILIST CREED

THE AHILIST’S WRATH

PART 1

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

PART 2

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

PART 3

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

63

64

65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

73

74

75

76

77

78

79

80

81

82

83

84

85

86

87

88

89

90

91

92

93

94

95

96

97

98

99

100

101

102

103

PART 4

104

105

106

107

108

109

110

111

112

113

114

115

116

117

118

119

120

121

122

123

124

125

126

127

128

129

130

131

132

133

134

135

PART 5

136

137

138

139

140

141

142

143

144

145

146

147

148

149

150

151

EPILOGUE

THE AFTERMATH

THE REDEMPTION

MAN’S BEST FRIEND

THE MYSTERY OF HOWLING WOLF

THE RESERVATION

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to man’s best friend, all those dogs that have ever been loved, ever loved, or should have been loved and weren’t, and especially our family’s departed companions, Buffy, Missy, Birdie and Boomer. We miss you loyal and loved friends. Your memories will live on deep within our hearts.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to thank Sister Nicolette, teacher at the St. Bernard Mission School on the Standing Rock Indian Reservation and Brother George, of St. Peters Catholic Church, also on the Reservation, for providing background information on the rich heritage of the proud Lakota Sioux Indians. Any omissions or inaccuracies are totally my responsibility.

I wish to extend special thanks to my twin brothers, who are coincidentally named Barry and Brett, who so patiently put up with my casting them into hero and villain for the sake of the plot. I’m sure they both deserve an apology.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

PROLOGUE

The Society Of Ahilists

THE AHILIST CREED

The Dark Ages spanned the years from about A.D. 500-1000. It was called the dark ages because it was a period of intellectual darkness and barbarity. Specifically, it referred to that period of time when there was no Roman Emperor in the West.

History books have given us the impression that warlords and barbarians roamed the lands taking advantage of the populace that were victims if not by them, then by the church, which tortured and put to death anyone with enlightened thinking. It was a period of great negativity, man merely existing without much more to life’s expectations than eating, manual labor, and sleeping. Man was starved for hope and something to make his existence worth living.

In actuality, with the decline of the Roman Empire, wars were a lot less costly. The feudal system didn’t allow for immense armies that could slaughter each other. Slavery and religious persecution found in the Roman Empire went out of style with its demise. Without the persecution of followers of Christianity, charities and better health care sprang up to better the lot of the people. Religion was very important because it offered a hope for some degree of happiness, if not in this life, then in the next.

Secret sects formed to advance their religious ideologies and to gain strength in numbers. The Age of Enlightenment was waiting around the corner. These sects would gain renewed vigor as their hopes and promises of happiness and wealth would come to fruition.

If you doubt the existence of such organizations still being in existence today, one only has to examine the Masonic fraternity.

The Free Masons owe their origins to the stonemasons of ancient Egypt who built the tombs and temples of the ancient world.

The Free Masons were educated men who believed in the brotherhood of man and an alternative religion. Some of our founding fathers, Benjamin Franklin, John Hancock, John Adams and none other than George Washington, Father of our Country, were Free Masons and instrumental in designing the seals of the U.S. for our currency and national emblems.

Conspiracy theorists proclaim that the Masonic fraternity has a secret destiny of America that is a new world order. They use as evidence symbolism and imagery on the one-dollar bill. The pyramid and all Seeing Eye, which show in one of the two circles on the dollar bill, are free Mason symbols.

The Free Masons, by the year 1700, were still following ancient traditions and secret ceremonies. Conspiracy theorists claim that Masons will replace all traditional religion. Much has been written and movies even made about the Masons.

It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch of the imagination to believe that other secretive organizations, perhaps smaller but just as long lasting and powerful as the Masons, have survived into the 21st century. What if these organizations have even stranger beliefs that might speak to a different kind of loyalty of the members for one another and for their deity? What if one of these organizations required the followers to sacrifice themselves, not for any cause here on earth, but simply to demonstrate their loyalty to their god by their willingness to leave this world and enter the next when they have the most to lose; when they have attained many of life’s pleasures and enjoyments; when they have everything to live for. Let us say for the sake of this story that they call themselves the Ahilists. This then, is a tale of one such family of Ahilists and one of its members in particular.

THE AHILIST’S WRATH

About A.D. 1350

Florence, Italy

The clank of steel on steel abruptly woke him. He sat up from his stupor. The guard pushed the cell door open and grunted an unintelligible order. Thomas felt a sharp object being pressed into his back forcing him to rise from the cot.

The sharp object prodded him forward out of his cell and down the tunnel. He could feel the damp, packed earth beneath his feet. The odor of mold was everywhere. Two guards, one on each side, restrained both his arms. The tunnel was very dimly lit with torches placed at intermittent intervals on the wall, their draft-stirred light shimmered, creating shadows that wove an ever-changing tapestry across the curve of the ceiling. The flames smelled with a pungent odor of sulfur, the same mixture of sulfur and lime that the ancient Romans had perfected to make the flames resistant to moisture. As they passed by the dimly lit areas, he glanced at his captors’ faces. They were pitted with pox and their hard featured noses and chins seemed unforgiving.

His throat was parched. He found it difficult to swallow. His head was dizzy from too little food and water. He knew he was dehydrated. He couldn’t remember how long he had been in that cold, dark cell. His mind wanted to escape from this nightmare, but he knew there would be no escape.

It had seemed so good, almost too good to be true when Markus, a member of the Ahilist Society, had approached him after he became an adult. Markus had explained that Thomas was one of the chosen ones. They were the males in the chosen families, but only those males in every other generation. He had asked why every other generation? Marcus hadn’t known for certain. Thomas theorized that perhaps it was to circumvent that dullness that seemed to permeate a family when succeeding generations lived off the wealth of their ancestors. Or perhaps, it contained as much logic as adding an additional day to every fourth year in the Gregorian calendar to form a leap year so the calendar worked out correctly. He simply didn’t know. He had asked why they called themselves the Ahilists? Again, Markus hadn’t known. Markus had explained that it wasn’t their name that was important, but their faith. There were so many things Thomas didn’t know or would never know. He was certain, though; that this was the way it had always been and would always remain.

His father hadn’t been an Ahilist but his grandfather had, and therefore he was one also. It skipped his father’s generation and therefore his father had known nothing of the Ahilists. He lived to the ripe old age of 75. His grandfather had died when Thomas was a child, having committed suicide just before his 40th birthday.

Markus explained that he would live like a king. All the other influential members would support him. He’d have all the money he wanted or needed. He would have a life of leisure. The only requirement was that he would have to end his life here on earth when he had reached his so-called prime, at the age of 40. This would demonstrate to God that he was sincere. He would have to give it all up just when he had everything: wealth, worldly possessions, and love of a woman. He would have to end it of his own volition. He would have to commit suicide. What wealth he had accumulated would go back to the Ahilist Society to be used by the next generation of Ahilists. Thomas had tried to circumvent fate. He had reached the age of 40 and had tried to escape death by hiding. He didn’t want to die. He had been foolish for joining the Ahilist Society.

They found him hiding at his friend Harold’s abode. How they found him, he knew not. They had spies everywhere he suspected. They said they would make an example of him. No one, since the beginning, had ever defied the Ahilist creed and lived.

The forbidding passageway seemed to stretch for miles until it dwindled into a confusion of shadows and spider webs of light. He heard footsteps behind him and every so often when his stride faltered, that sharp object would stick him from behind. He could hear the chanting and moaning ahead. He was approaching, he suspected, a large group of Ahilists. Members stood along the walls. They were glaring at him. There was no love in their faces and so, he realized, no pity in their hearts.

He entered an outdoor arboretum. He didn’t know what they intended to do to him. Then, he glanced to his left and saw it. The large stake surrounded by a pyre of cedar left nothing to the imagination.

A distinguished gentleman unrolled a piece of parchment and read, in the most formal of tones, the proclamation.

This man, Thomas Rhinehart, for crimes committed against the Ahilist Society, namely the crime of fleeing the eternal communion with God, we commit Thomas Rhinehart to death by fire and commit his soul to eternal damnation.

They tied him swiftly to the stake. With the chanting in the background and the crackle of the fire in the foreground, the heat rose from the fire and began to warm his chilled body.

He closed his eyes for he knew his physical comfort would not last long.

PART 1

The Reservation

1

A New Century Dawns

Standing Rock Indian Reservation, North Dakota

Howling Wolf awaited the Sun Dance with eager anticipation. His father had lived and died of old age on the reservation. Other ancestors, before them, had died a free and honorable people on the plains they so loved defending their way of life that they had enjoyed for centuries. This was the tribe of Chiefs Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse. Howling Wolf felt very honored and humble to be a Lakota Sioux.

It had been hard in recent years; poverty and strong-armed tactics, by the federal government, had prevented them from following their ancient customs. The Sun Dance was one of these customs that the government had outlawed in the latter part of the 19th century. Because of its spiritual importance to the Indian, outlawing the Sun Dance was another way of breaking the spirit and cohesiveness of the Indian culture. Howling Wolf’s tribe was reviving the Sun Dance and its original meaning to the Plains Indians. The Dance was a celebration of life, a rebirth, a realization that all of nature was intertwined originating from the same source and ultimately becoming one. It was a celebration of their life long companions, the buffalo, and a sign of respect for the eagle, which was a link between man and spirit.

The young brave had to prepare for the ceremony for an entire year. He had to participate in sweat baths each week and had to pray frequently with the sacred pipe called the Canunpa. These preparations purified and focused his reason for Sun Dancing. He had to do it for a noble purpose and not for selfish reasons such as impressing his friends. Finally, before the Sun Dance, the brave would make a vision quest. This consisted of selecting a holy spot, often atop a hill, where he could pray and fast before God in isolation and solitude. The Dance was an honorable way to show a warrior’s sacrifice of flesh and strength for the needs and life of their people. To help the brave on this quest, a spiritual elder guided him thru his year of preparations.

When the time neared for the yearly Sun Dance, the ceremonial tree was selected weeks before the ceremony. It was either cottonwood or ash. The tree was treated like an enemy. Four girls held a cherry stick painted different colors for each direction. A veteran spoke of what it was like to fight in the war. The girls hit the tree and afterwards, it was cut down. Ropes were tied to the tree making sure that the tree never touched the ground. The men caught it with poles. They carried it to the site of the Sun Dance lodge and lay it on the women’s shawls. The bottom part of the tree was stripped while on the ground. The parts above were painted in buffalo blood. A buffalo’s heart was placed under the tree. A buffalo head was attached to the top of the sun-pole with the pole anchored in the ground so the buffalo head faced the setting sun.

The Sun Dance ceremony lasted for four days. Both men and women participated in the dancing. There were even contraries, clowns that in ceremony did everything backwards and even dressed like women. Their mission was to teach through humor. The men and women went around and around the tree. The participating men did frequent sweat lodges and smoked the sacred pipe.

Howling Wolf would be one of these dancers. In the climax of the ceremony on the fourth day, his breasts would be pierced with skewers that would then be tied to the center pole. He would dance and pull back until his flesh would tear away. He would look for a sign from the spirits of his departed ancestors. He would let the spirits know that he wished to have them close to him in this life and that he would join them in the next.

As Howling Wolf danced around the Sun Dance lodge, he would remember his father’s courage and honesty. I miss him, he thought. Father was so proud of his white moccasins. He had gotten them from his father and his father from his. He relived the story of how his ancestor had come up on a dying white buffalo. It had been the target of the white man’s decimation of the creature that at one time stretched from horizon to horizon. It had been wounded and ran off to die in this small ravine. There was considerable magic associated with the white buffalo. It was a sacred and rare occurrence to the Plains Indians. The tribe was informed and they congregated around the dying animal. The medicine man talked to the spirits, the braves beat their drums, but to no avail. After the beast died, the Indians in reverence to its power and spirit ate from it and used its hide for ceremonial decoration and clothing. Howling Wolf’s ancestor made a set of ceremonial moccasins that were to be passed down to his children.

Howling Wolf hoped he had done the right thing. He hoped his ancestor’s weren’t angry with him. His father had loved those moccasins so much that when Howling Wolf saw him on the funeral pyre, he knew his father would want to join the spirits with his special moccasins. Howling Wolf watched as the flames shot high into the air. He felt their intense heat as he watched his beloved father join the spirits. He watched as the moccasins turned to ash.

It was the fourth day of the Sun Dance. It was now time for Howling Wolf to show his courage. It was time to have faith in the spirits, be one with them, and visit his father in the spirit world. The skewers were inserted in his breasts. These were tied to the center pole. The dance would culminate in a symbolism of death only to be reborn, a regeneration of all living things. He danced wildly around the pole, the skewers tearing at his flesh. Wherever he placed his feet, he saw poppies spring from the ground as if by magic. It was a celebration of color, the pain almost forgotten. He saw the spirit of his father and his father and his father before him looking down at him, a continuous line of life protected by the eagle and nourished by the buffalo. He leaped back, his flesh torn, his body prostrate on the ground. His gaze focused on the other braves still dancing wildly around the pole, their torn flesh refusing to break free from the impediments, the setting sun burnishing their perspiring bodies to a rich bronze. He was so thankful for having seen his ancestors and especially his father. A delicate pink cloud reflecting the sunset drifted overhead towards the horizon. Howling Wolf knew it was the spirit of his ancestors bidding him farewell. He rose to his feet. The blood was trickling down his chest and abdomen. It was dripping to the ground. Howling Wolf looked in amazement at the destination of the dripping blood. It was dripping on a pair of white ceremonial moccasins, the same ones that had been handed down from his ancestors many years before and now had been handed down from the spirits. Howling Wolf smiled. He was so proud to be a Lakota Sioux.

2

Bill had recently accepted the position as Minister of Indian Affairs for the Northern District. The solitary trip across country had given him the luxury of contemplating how he had arrived at this juncture in his life. He thought how lucky he was and he couldn’t help but think of his father. He could attribute his new job to his father’s influence. Many appointments including those in the Interior Department, of which the Bureau of Indian Affairs was one, were political appointments based on favors. His father, Charles Rhinehart, had contributed many dollars to Theodore Roosevelt’s presidential campaign. Charles’ grandfather, Nicholas, had emigrated from England as a child and had become very wealthy in the early manufacturing revolution taking place in North America. Nicholas was instrumental in co-founding the Remington gun factory with Eliphalet Remington in 1816, one of the first mass production facilities that had as its underlying concept that of the interchangeability of parts. As the result of using mass production, they were able to increase production at least ten fold and nearly drive the competition out of business. Charles had involved his son in many of his business dealings as he matured until he became a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

He loved his father very much. They had common interests, although one of them was not being an industrialist running a weapon’s factory. His father had discussed his son’s life’s goals on numerous occasions and realized that his son’s ambitions were not at the factory and simply did not satisfy him. His dad knew Bill’s motivations were more altruistic than his own, more like his mother’s. His mother had died of pneumonia when he was very young and he always regretted never having had the opportunity to get to know her. His dad always told him that he was his mother’s son. Just like her, he always enjoyed seeing the happiness on someone’s face when he sincerely thanked them to show his appreciation and to let the person know that they were truly valued. He knew his father, instead of thinking that his kindness was a weakness, respected him all the more because of it. His dad had told him that his position in Indian Affairs would probably frustrate him but also give him great satisfaction. Only time would tell if he were right.

His Stanley Steamer had made the nine hundred mile trip from New York City to the Standing Rock Indian Reservation in a little less than seven days. A few delays due to sliced tires from sharp rocks cost him only about half a day. He had been prepared though. He brought a spare, wooden wheel with several tires and tubes as spares knowing that the roads would get progressively worse as he headed west. He brought his own supply of kerosene and a steam siphon and hose that he could drop in a horse trough or stream. The car was outfitted with a condenser to take the hot steam and turn it back into water for reuse. This made his trip a lot less demanding on having a source of water readily available as his Stanley used about one gallon of water per mile.

The air felt hot and muggy, practically unheard of for this area of North Dakota in the springtime. William Rhinehart had arrived on the reservation just in time to witness the conclusion of the sacred Sun Dance.

3

The reservation consisted of the surrounding land, approximately 2.2 million acres, around the original Fort Yates. The old fort fence had been removed leaving the original interior buildings and the newer expanded areas of town huddled together in the vastness of the North Dakota plains. Bill’s lodging was attached to the soldiers’ barracks with a permanent wall separating it from the main barracks. They were simple accommodations; a lot rougher than Bill was used to, a small bedroom not more than ten-foot square and an adjoining office. Bill shared the shower with the rest of the troops.

The garrison consisted of fifteen soldiers, a cook and a blacksmith. A Captain Baker was the highest-ranking officer in charge of the soldiers and had introduced Bill to the men upon his arrival.

A few of the men, instead of greeting him with respect, almost sneered at him. Bill thought the captain would say something about such insubordination but there wasn’t a word from him.

In the following days, one morning while he was getting ready to exit his room, he heard boisterous talking and laughing outside his door by the barracks. The one man was saying, Come here, injun. Then he repeated, Come here I said. He heard a wad of sputum being spat and then the same voice said, Don’t you ever look me in the eyes again, you hear me, boy?

There was a silence. I can’t hear you, chief. Then there was laughter.

You make me sick. Get out of my sight, injun.

Bill felt the perspiration wet his collar. He was furious. He knew he should calm down and talk to the captain about the action of his men but then he remembered his embarrassment at the captain’s lack of discipline when he introduced him to his men.

He found himself opening his door and facing the very same three individuals that had sneered at him earlier. He heard them begrudgingly say, Good morning… Sir.

The Indian they had ridiculed was still in earshot when Bill asked which one of the soldiers had addressed the Indian as injun?

The burly guy stepped forward and with about as much respect as he had paid the young brave, said, That would be me, sir. What’s it to you? He didn’t bother to even turn his head before he spat a brown rope of saliva that just missed Bill’s feet.

Bill couldn’t believe the guy’s stupidity and audacity. Do it again Sergeant, and you’ll see what the inside of the brig looks like. Bill didn’t know if he had the authority to threaten the brig, but at that moment, he was so angry he felt like threatening a court marshal.

The sergeant retorted in a low threatening tone, Don’t threaten me, Mr. Rhinehart. You’re new here and you haven’t any idea what you’re up against. Did you ever wonder what happened to the last Minister of Indian Affairs?

The brave hurried off. Bill stalked off back to his office. He’d find out what the heck was going on here, and what the heck happened to the last minister.

4

The Catholic grade school, St. Bernard Mission School, sat up on the hill that was the highest ground in the town proper. The brick church, St. Peters, with its towering spire appeared like a lighthouse calling all the lost souls at sea back home. It was about two hundred feet from the school. The Notre Dame Nuns that taught the children lived in a colonial looking house about three hundred feet down the slope from the school that looked like it would have been more at home on a southern plantation in Mississippi with its white façade and columns. The nuns liked to joke that the walk up the hill to school in the morning was their morning exercise and the walk back down in the evening was more like tumbling down thru sheer exhaustion.

Bill met Father Edwards, several of the nuns, and Brother George his first Sunday on the reservation. Father wore his black suit and white collar. The nuns wore their freshly laundered black habits and white veils and Brother George wore his cassock for his order that was chocolate brown. Bill had scrubbed down again after his long journey and had donned his best black dress pants, white shirt and conservative blue cravat tie. After the church service, they were all invited to the convent for Sunday lunch. Sisters Dannel, a rather robust woman, and Nicolette, a mere wisp of a woman, prepared a meal of pork roast, potatoes and green beans. It was a pleasant change from the meals Bill had already been introduced to at the Garrison’s mess hall.

After dinner, while they were enjoying their coffee and cherry pie, Bill posed an innocent question into the personalities of the soldiers at the garrison. They all gave each other a guarded look. Father Edwards made the statement that all men were God’s creatures and then abruptly changed the subject to the week’s upcoming weather forecast.

Bill apologized for his ignorance but asked what had happened to the last Minister of Indian Affairs. Again, the group glanced at each other warily