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an apparently senseless killing unless you knew what was behind it。
And this will be your fate； too； Mark Sabat！
Sabat flinched at Quentin's words； for his brother's evil would be set free by death。 But amid the grief and anger Sabat plucked out the warning。 If the Disciples of Lilith knew where to find Ilona； knew of her part in the fight against them； then they were also aware that Sabat was on their trail。 Doubtless his name； too； was on the fascists' death list。 And they were unlikely to delay an attempt on his I if el
'I guess it's no good quizzing you about your hunches；' McKay muttered as Sabat made to leave。
The other shook his head。 'All the hunches I've got at the moment would have every officer in the force running round in circles for the next month and probably getting nowhere while these 'vampires'； for want of a better term； have a field day。'
'Uh…huh；' the detective's lips tightened； when Sabat was ready to talk he would do so； and not until。 'We're going to step up night patrols； get a few WPCs out as decoys with a concealed escort。'
Sabat bit back his retort that it was a waste of time； just risking the lives of female police officers； there was something uncanny； so deadly in the way these youths hunted and killed 。。。 as though they had received some kind of training superior to anything which a fascist organisation had to offer。 Either that。。。 or they had successfully called upon the dark powers to assist them！ It was a possibility he did not rule out。
'No doubt you won't be in touch but I will；' there was resentment in McKay's tone as Sabat walked away from the house of death。
Sabat's mind was elsewhere on the journey back to his house； a robot that drove with deadly efficiency but recorded none of the mundane details in a puterised brain that had no space for trivialities。 On entering his front door； Sabat knew that his first task was to kindle the flames of fury； bring them to a raging furnace and burn them back to a simmering anger for in his present state it was likely to cloud his reasoning； his judgement。 And that gave these Disciples of Lilith a distinct advantage over him。
He descended a flight of steps which led to the basement area below； a square room which incorporated the foundations of the house and which he had fitted out as a gymnasium。 In some ways it bore a resemblance to Ilona's cellar yet the fixtures and fittings were not designed for such masochistic pleasures； a vaulting horse； climbing ropes； a punchbag； various trapeze bars； and at the far end a miniature shooting range against the background of a sandpit。
Sabat stripped naked； his muscles quivering with both anticipation of the exertion they faced and the fury which seethed inside the powerful body like a cauldron ing to the boil。 The scar on his cheek stood out starkly as though it glowed white hot； his eyes burned hot and dry。
The punchbag first； a rain of blows that powered every ounce of his hundred and eighty pounds； fast and furious； every one on target； straining the ropes that secured the leather bag to its moorings。 He saw it through a red haze； an unknown face that belonged to the self…styled Fuhrer of this fascist movement； determined to pound it beyond recognition。 Sabat saw Ilona again； the tragic waste of life； and knew that only total revenge would ease his own conscience。 Faster； faster； the thudding of bare knuckles on leather like distant machine…gun fire； his body lathered in sweat； his eyes misted so that he could barely see yet every blow found its mark； non…stop until finally the fury inside him began to die down and only then did he move on to the vaulting horse； a perfect leap that carried him well beyond it。 Again and again。 Up on to the trapeze with the strength and agility of a baboon； swinging from there on to the ropes； traversing them so that his biceps bulged and responded to efforts far beyond his normal training sessions。
Finally he was still； his breathing barely quicker than when he had begun； going to his discarded clothing and finding the 。38 revolver。 Both hands were rock steady； the one holding the weapon； the other clasping his gun hand。 Six targets； slivers of kindling wood embedded in the sand； barely a quarter of an inch in width。
The shots were almost as rapid as those blows on the punchbag； deafening reports in the soundproofed enclosure； the atmosphere thick with acrid gunsmoke。 And when Sabat lowered the gun there were only splinters of smashed wood scattered on the red sand； not a single stick remaining intact。
As he returned the 。38 to its pocket holster in'his jacket there was a much slower； calmer movement from his limbs； not tiredness； a mixture of relaxation and satisfaction。 A man who has walked through hellfire and emerged unscathed。
He stepped into the curtained shower； sighed beneath the cold invigorating spray。 His expression； too； had changed； a sadness that was hidden by the gushing water and if there were tears； then they were washed away immediately。 For； even with Sabat； there was a time for crying。
Sabat towelled himself dry； took his time dressing。 Slowly； deliberately； he ejected the spent shells from the revolver and reloaded it。 His nostrils flared above his black moustache as he controlled his breathing； regulated his anger and hatred towards the Liberation Front so that once again he was the perfect fighting machine； as deadly； perhaps deadlier； than he had been in his SAS days。
For he knew that soon the Fuhrer would send his killers。 And Sabat was ready for them！
The three youths huddled in the dusk of a deserted building site； uncertain of themselves； afraid。 None of them spoke for conversation was forbidden to them and it never entered their minds to speak。 They had their instructions indelibly imprinted on their brains； seared by the burning eyes of the Fuhrer。 No thought of failure； success was taken for granted。 They had killed before and tonight they would kill again。 Already the memory of those atrocities two nights ago when their leader had acpanied them had been erased。 He had made them forget in the same way that he made them remember。 They were soldiers in his army of living zombies。
A definite assignment； a name and address。 Already they had located the house； surveyed it from a distance in gathering dusk； made sure that they were not seen。 Now all they had to do was wait。 No nervousness now； just another job for one they were proud to serve。 That name； they each repeated it mutely over and over again … Sabat。 。 。 Sabat。 。 Sabat。。。 the man they had to kill！
Darkness came and cast its mantle over acres of half finished houses； obliterating details； even the stars seemed reluctant to show themselves on this night of evil。 The group waited patiently； not fidgeting； just staring sightlessly into the blackness。
They knew when it was time to move； heard the faint hooting of an owl。 When their task was pleted they would return to this very place and give an answering call。 In due course they would be collected； lie for hours in the b