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Vice Cop Ch. 09

Previously on Vice Cop, Hudson and Lexa, working Homicide, went undercover chasing an elusive killer known as The Yellow Cab Killer, a taxi cab driver who murdered his passengers. The killer, disguised as a passenger, had Hudson drive him to the airport where he made his escape, teaching Hudson he couldn't always save the day.

This episode has a lot of plot/action and one sex scene you can find on SCENE FIVE. It involves a wicked and psycho rock star and his tryst with a devoted groupie in his luxury suite at the Plaza Hotel.


*

ONE

Lexa was summoned to Detective Mason Holmes' office. The previous night she had received a call from him telling her she was needed for an assignment involving bizarre murders in rock concerts. He hadn't been very specific and it was obvious to Lexa that he had just received the case himself and was not too sure about the details. He had not made an effort to contact her throughout the morning and it was now about one in the afternoon. Lexa had shared a lunch with a fellow officer and then went to the donut shop called Christie's which the cops in the precinct frequented. It was a small, old-time donut shop surrounded by a grove of trees. Glass windows surrounded the top sides of the place. When she went into the office, she found that Mason was sitting at his desk. He looked up at her with a big smile.

"Sit down, darling," he said.

She sat down and looked at his desk for a pack of smokes but found nothing. Mason usually kept some around, and more confidently owing to the fact that the Chief hardly ever came to his office. Mason looked at her knowingly and chuckled.

"No smokes today, I'm afraid," he said to her, "I'm trying to cut down. You should too you know."

"Well, it would please you to know I only smoke when we're alone. I don't have cigarettes at home."

He laughed.

Lexa loved his laugh. It was a joyous, deep manly laugh and when he smiled all his teeth showed and they were excellent, straight white teeth. She was beginning to enjoy being with him alone. He was so good to her and Lexa knew that such men were becoming rarer and rarer.

"I'm sorry if my phone call awoke you last night but it was urgent. I trust you got my message."

"I did. What's this about murders at rock concerts?"

"This is a new case for me as you might have already figured out. Homicide has received reports of murdered young men and women at various rock concerts in Europe and the US. While we can't do a thing about whatever homicides occur in Europe, when it happens here in our country, it becomes personal. Families are baffled and grieving. It's still shrouded in mystery but we're making speculations and forming theories as to what might have happened."

"Let me get this straight. Rock fans have been found dead in rock concerts? But how? How could a cold-blooded murder occur in such a crowded scene and when there' security present at those events?" Lexa said, quite baffled herself.

"The murders have taken place in out-of-the way places, hidden in corners, behind drapes, in the wings, in backstage areas, nowhere near the stage seats or "mosh pit" which the young call the sunken area right in front of the stage where the most number of folks are rocking out to the music. The murders were done in ritualistic manners, with the eyelids closed and marked with three 6's, or upside down crosses. Some murder victims were found with their tongues or eyes cut out and the female victims were evidently violated before being killed.

"My God, this is terrible. Is this the work of a serial killer who attends these rock concerts?"

"That, of course, was my first guess. But we are still investigating. It's not likely that one serial killer is methodically murdering these teenagers. It seems to be the work of at least two killers. There are two different patterns. According to the autopsy reports and FBI forensic anthropologists, the murders committed here in the States and those in Europe show that two killers were at work. One killer bites into the neck of the victims like a vampire would and drains them of their blood. The other assassin uses medieval weapons such as spiked clubs and swords. Of course, before we make any kind of public statement, we need to be absolutely certain we are correct. We know things can get wildly out of hand at these rock concerts and as you know, in most cases, illicit and harmful drugs are involved. Rock musicians and rock fans take drugs as part of their culture. It's possible this is the work of two drug addicts raising hell."

"What kind of rock music is this? I'm sure it's not like Paul McCartney right?"

"It's a new kind of underground heavy metal rock music. It has a growing fan base. In London, there is a new wave of Goth rock music. The music is dark, dismal and deals with dark subject matters like death, suicide, nihilistic philosophies and Satanism. It is a combination of heavy metal, "glam rock" and "shock rock" in the vein of Venom, Ozzy Osbourne, KISS, Alice Cooper and Iron Maiden, except with a more German and European attitude. The band we're following is called Darkness. The murders have occurred at their concerts."

"I've never listened to any of their music. What is it like?"

"Me either. I'm only a jazz fan and into older music. It's just heavily orchestrated and synthesized rock, basically with the lead singers screaming into the mic. It's loud, it's hypnotic, it's riotous and it sells. This particular rock group I'm talking about is quite new. The lead singer and his band are from Vienna, Austria and gained popularity in London, Sweden and Germany before making it to America. Here, let me show you an album --"

He retrieved an album from a large package. He had obviously ordered the album by mail as part of his research. He handed the LP album to Lexa. On the cover was a large portrait of the lead singer in a showy costume, with a long flowing blood-red cape, very long dyed red hair and two little fake horns over his head. He had a malicious look in his eyes which on the album were superimposed with tiny little flames. Surrounding him was a background of Hell, as depicted in the old sixteenth century European artist Hieronymus Bosch's paintings. Monsters, half-human, half-animal and demons tortured nude mortals in a dark, fiery pit.

"My God this looks Satanic," Lexa said, gasping.

"Well, I hate to tell you but today's music is getting weirder and weirder. Our investigation is still new but my guess is that this lead singer, stage name Siegfried Kroll, is either using the Satanic rock singer image to sell albums or is actually some kind of Satanist. If that really is the case that would explain the bizarre murders."

"You think this Austrian singer is murdering his own fans?"

Lexa's eyes fell on the album again, at the young man in the album, dressed like the Devil for shock appeal.

"It's only conjecture, Miss O'Neil but I intend to uncover the truth. It's a dangerous case, for we'd be exposing ourselves to the danger that has recently surfaced from these concerts. It has come to the point that many Right-Wing Christians are banning the albums, burning them in effigy and forbidding their teenage children from attending the concerts."

"Which of course only makes them go to the concerts a whole lot more times, right?"

"Exactly. The fact that these murders have been reported in the news only adds to the fame of this music group Darkness. The crowds still come, drunk on the music, loving the spectacle of it all."

"Spectacle? So it's like a show?"

"That has been the real attraction and ticket seller," Mason said, " the band Darkness performs a show, full of special effects, lasers, fog machines, dry ice, creative lighting, costumes, transformations on stage, and the like. But from what I've been hearing there is a lot of shock appeal. They have snakes and cobras on stage, burning crosses, upside down crosses with some people actually hanging on them, Medieval torture devices like the iron maiden, the Guillotine, and Sadomasochistic elements like floggings and whippings on stage, cadavers, zombies, monsters, beasts and lots of blood and gore. Lots of the shows resemble the set to a horror movie."

"This group sounds like one you can take the whole family to," Lexa said jokingly.

"Miss O'Neil, I don't like giving you these assignments but I'm afraid that we have no one better and available. You've proven to be a terrific undercover cop. But sometimes I fear that you....that you will get hurt and that we'd lose you....that I'll never see you again..."

"Oh, don't worry your head about that," Lexa replied, "I can take care of myself and no assignment is truly too dangerous for me. If it were, I'd let you know beforehand. I'm interested in this case. What do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to be with you the whole time. The first thing we have to do is actually listen to the music. I haven't listened to this album yet but it contains all their greatest hits. We have to listen to the lyrics and search for any hidden messages. As you know, music and lyrics are very powerful and hold influence over youth. If this guy is our killer, he may be issuing subliminal messages to his fans."

"Which would lead us to speculating that if he's not the killer, then some crazed fan, influenced by his music, has been killing other concert-goers?"

"That's right. We need to proceed carefully. Mr. Kroll is a highly public figure and he's a suspect without knowing he's one. We have yet to talk to him. He is on an American Tour and he'll be in New York in a week. I intend to interrogate him at his hotel room when he arrives here."

"And you want me to go undercover somehow?"

"At the concert next week. I'll go with you along with some back-up. Are you alright with all this Miss O'Neil?"

"Detective, wild horses couldn't drag me away."

TWO

"Do my ears deceive me or did you say that Miss Lexa O'Neil is living next door to you?" Professor Ezra Goldstein said in a tone of complete surprise.

Hudson had been coming to have tea with him in the evening and not at the official tea time, four o'clock, because Hudson had been having trouble sleeping at night. The Professor's chamomile teas always helped him to sleep better. On a record player, the Professor had classical music on in a recent album he had purchased of Tchaikovsky symphonies.

He had re-decorated his home, something he seemed to be doing about every six months. He would change the wallpaper; add a little framed photo or painting here and there, new flowers on vases and sometimes even new carpeting. Hudson wondered if he did this because his life was so marked by routine and dull that doing these little things was a way to keep him doing something, a way to keep his mind and mind active. He had provided the home with a Japanese-themed décor and he had lots of dark woods, "floating world" paintings, bamboo sticks and several miniature statuettes of characters from the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta The Mikado.

"That's right, I was surprised too," Hudson replied, "and I don't like it either. She keeps me up all night. It's distracting."

"Why would she distract you? It seems to me you are not telling me something. Miss O"Neil is a fine woman, just like her mother. But you seem to occasionally hint that you have some kind of attraction to her that doesn't sit well with you."

"No way, Professor. I don't find her attractive at all."

"You're lying."

"Alright so she's gorgeous. But not as beautiful as some women I know. The only reason I don't get along with her is that she's a feisty, willful and tough cop. I don't want a woman that's a cop. I want a non-cop woman. You know this."

"Alright, I won't mention Miss O'Neil again. Still, it's such a pity. She's so like you. It's the only reason you don't like her. She reminds you of you and sometimes we don't like to have others remind us of ourselves."

"What are you listening to on the record player?"

"Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony. I have all six symphonies on a single album. Do you like it?"

"I love it. It's so beautiful. You find the best classical albums, Professor, you really do."

"I do my best. They take me back....back to better times, when my wife Helen and I attended symphonies, ballets and operas, and traveled through Europe...each piece of music I hear is a memory.."

Hudson looked at a framed photograph of Helen Goldstein which stood next to the fireplace. She was in a straw sunhat with green streamers, looking radiant and smiling in a Hawaiian beach, seemingly enjoying herself when the photo was shot. When would her death stop haunting the poor old man? Hudson knew that the Professor lived on his memories, and in the past, and this was also getting depressing, so he changed the subject.

"What's with the Oriental theme in your house?" he said.

"Oh, you noticed."

"It's hard not to notice."

"Don't you like it?"

"It's a little too excessive, don't you think? Looks like you bought a bunch of kitschy junk from Chinatown."

"Well, that's just one person's opinion. Now tell me, have you been able to find a girl, a match, since you and Miss O'Neil didn't hit it off?"

"No. No girl in my life right now."

"Let's remedy that situation shall we. I hate to see how miserably single you are."

"Not miserable, please, Professor. That's such a strong word. I just feel frustrated is all, but not miserable."

"Well what do you say if I arrange another blind date?"

"Sure."

"This time I hope it works. What I'll do is find out more about the girl before getting her to go on a date with you. I'll ensure that she's not working with law enforcement in any way and that she is very drawn to police men like yourself."

"That would work great."

"Very well then, my boy. I think I know who I can get for you. She's the daughter of one of my older students."

"How old is the girl?"

"Twenty eight."

"Not bad. Is she pretty?"

"Yes I would say so. Her mother, Norma Dee, was once a country singer in Nashville, Tennessee. Her career was very short and many people didn't care for her singing because at the time Dolly Parton was the big star. She quit singing and she came to New York City to work as a choir instructor. Her daughter attends my class."

"I'd love to meet her. When can you arrange a date? I don't want to wait too long, Professor."

"Not to worry. I know how anxious and impatient you are. I'll see if I can get the girl to attend a production of The Mikado with you. It's playing at New York City Opera. It's the reason I decided to give my home a Japanese art theme."

"What's a Makado?"

"It's Mikado. It's an old English-sung opera by Gilbert and Sullivan, a satire about feudal-era Japan."

"Is the girl into that stuff?"

"No. She's into country western music like her mother but if she wants to get college credit, she needs to go to it."

"I see. Well, let's hope this works, Professor."

Lexa and Mason had done their share of research on Siegfried Kroll, the Austrian rock singer from the heavy metal band Darkness. His albums had sold countless numbers of copies and he had appeared on MTV more than once. His debut album "Inferno" was a collection of songs inspired by the 1300's Italian poet Dante Alighieri's epic poem of the same name, with a modern twist. In the album, which was more like a grandiose rock opera, Siegfried states that he is the son of Satan, the Anti-Christ. He lures the protagonist, a typical rock music fanatic, sung by one of his band members, into a web of debauchery and violence, after which he is dragged down the nine circles of Hell, finally reaching the Throne of Satan himself.

It was horrible to listen to, and Lexa and Mason felt sick after listening to it. There was no doubt the orchestration was amazing and inspired. Not only did it feature the classic rock instruments - electric guitars, bass and drums, but also electronic music, post-modern music, twelve-tone, and touches of symphonic instruments like violins, cellos, horns, trumpets and Baroque instruments like the harpsichord. He also made use of chorus. The lyrics used modern slang and also made references to the demonic monsters and characters in Dante's poems in addition to occult terminology. The music was dark, heavy, ominous, frightening; dramatically fatalistic but ultimately a sort of glorified satanic symphony.

"This music makes me afraid," Lexa said to Mason after they had both heard it, "how can this awful music sell?"

"I don't know," Mason answered, "his other albums are more mainstream, just heavy metal music with only a few lyrics. He shouts obscenities into the microphone, many of them are about twisted love and what the young today call "S and M" a lifestyle involving sexual domination with the use of bondage, pain and sometimes torture. He has recently composed another rock opera, with talk of being made into a movie. He's been spotted hanging around horror film directors and has already been to Hollywood to get the funding for the movie. It's called "Lucifer", about the war in Heaven between angels and demons and Satan's descent into Hell, inspired by the English poet Milton's Paradise Lost. But again he makes some changes to please modern audiences. The biggest change is that he doesn't make Satan the loser. He portrays him as victorious, and gaining unlimited power."

"Another rock opera with a satanic theme? How would that do in the box office if it was made into a film?"

"Well it would be a horror movie. The horror genre today has become very graphic and gruesome.

"Well, so far, there's nothing in the lyrics that seem to indicate he's brainwashing his fans or giving them subliminal messages to kill people."

"I didn't pick up any of that either. Maybe we should run the record backwards."

They shared a laugh.

"Still, the music is very ominous and hypnotic at times. Maybe it's not necessary for him to be saying anything in the music. The music speaks for itself and maybe urged some of his fans to kill at his concerts."

"Maybe. The concert is going to be held in an old movie palace that is no longer in use. The horror movie Lucifer will premiere there. He will be in town tomorrow. He will also perform his rock shows there and give a total of three concerts."

"Is it necessary to go to each one of the concerts?" Lexa said, not looking forward to attending even one.

"Well, what we can do is you and I will go to one concert and I can have some of my other detectives working Homicide to investigate and go to the other concerts."

"That works."

"Don't be scared, Miss O'Neil. If that guy's the culprit, we'll catch him. I would hate to see gruesome murders happen right here in Manhattan. The murders that happened in LA, San Francisco, Chicago and Cleveland were absolutely horrific. My guess is he intends to make his worst attack here in New York."

"You keep saying "he". Do you really feel that Siegfried is responsible for the murders?"

"Either he's committing the murders himself or ordering the murders to be done by his followers. There's a cult-like atmosphere surrounding his band Darkness. I will be talking to him next week. He's staying at a suite at the Plaza."

"So he spends money like a rock star too does he?"

"Oh, yeah. He lives a luxurious lifestyle. He owns a mansion in Vienna and always travels first-class. He jokes that he's as rich as the Devil. Alright, Ms. O'Neil, I'll see you after I have spoken with Mr. Kroll and then we can do our undercover job."

FOUR

The Plaza Hotel, Siegfried Kroll's Suite, 8pm

Mason Holmes had contacted the Austrian rock legend by telephone.

He said he was with New York City Police and actively investigating the murders linked to his concerts. Because he was in town, it was inevitable that the authorities would want to talk to him. Siegfried had not answered the phone. Instead, a personal assistant and receptionist had picked up the phone.
She informed the rock singer of the detective's wish to speak with him and ask him questions, and he had agreed to the meeting in his hotel suite. Mason had called at nine in the morning but Siegfried had been partying the night before in Manhattan and had not yet gotten out of bed. Mason figured this was typical of a major rock star who partied all the time. The receptionist said he had a big hang-over and was indisposed for a morning interview so she had it scheduled for eight in the evening.

Mason used the lion-head knocker on the door to his suite and Siegfried answered the door. He was wearing a blood-red silk robe which clung to his very thin figure. His hair was not red this time, but blonde and it was obviously another dye job. Mason looked at him from head to toe. He looked like a spoiled European youth, with too much money and with a sinister looking, long, thin face and devilish looking slanted eyebrows. To Mason's surprise, a black panther stood by Siegfried's side. It was wearing a collar encrusted with rubies. It was obviously the rock star's expensive pet.

"Take a seat on the divan, Herr Detective."

"Danke," Mason replied, using his German, "but please tell me that thing doesn't bite."

"Nein, Nein. He's domesticated and so well-trained that he wouldn't hurt a fly. You react like everyone else when they see my dear Moloch. Besides, if I wanted him to attack you, I'd have already given him the order."

He laughed but Mason did not find it amusing, despite Siegfried's jest. He pulled on the panther's collar gently.

"Zuruck, Moloch, Zuruck" he said to him.

The panther retreated to another part of the parlor but he was within sight. He sat down on the carpet passively.

Mason walked into the parlor, a beautifully decorated room with tall, showy, leafy potted plants that nearly looked like trees. The carpet was richly pattered with fleur-de-lys and the vases, paintings and furniture were expensive and antiques. The suite had a balcony and a terrific view of the city, and chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. This must have cost a pretty penny, and the guy was staying for days in New York City. Mason sat down and watched as Siegfried walked about and retrieved a hookah. As if completely alone, he began to smoke and only now and then glanced at Mason.

"May I ask what your real name is?" Mason said to him.

"Is this really an interview?" Siegfried replied," You are a detective, right, not a journalist?"

"That's correct. I'm a detective for the New York Police Department. As you may already know, there have been murders at various concerts of yours."

"I know."

"Here are articles I've collected from newspapers."

He showed them to him and laid them out over a coffee table made of glass. The photographs were of the deceased victims, as they had looked like in life. They were articles from the Los Angeles Times and the Chicago and Cleveland newspapers. Siegfried smoked his hookah with a very vague, expressionless face, which was increasingly becoming filled with a cloud of smoke.

"Danny Addams, age sixteen, from LA, a high school student, had just bought his first car," Mason said, not once leaving Siegfried's face, as if part of his job was to study the suspect's face, "there was no reason for a young kid like him to die. He was a huge fan of yours and it was his first concert. He had a hard time getting his parents to allow him to go to your concert. And turns out they were right. That night was his last night on earth. He was found dead in the wings of the Pantages Theater where your concert was held."

Siegfried's face was not exactly cold, but he did not seem as if he was interested in the matter in the least and was showing an indifferent attitude toward the affair.

"Two victims in Cleveland - two girls, Laurie Carmine and Natalie Anderson. Both seventeen and best friends. An examination of their bodies indicated that they had been raped as semen was found inside them. They had three 6's on their closed eyelids and upside down crosses marked into the palm of their hands. Their necks had been bitten and some blood was drained out of them."

He showed him the photographs of the girls, both dark-haired beauties with tight-fitting tops and jeans. They looked sweet-faced and yet naughty, with eyes that sparkled bright green. Mason continued to fix his gaze on Siegfried. He seemed as if somewhat high on the hookah smoke, though he continued to look back at Mason, acknowledging him. A short while later, he said something to his pet panther Moloch in German and the panther retreated to sleep in another part of the suite.

"Please continue, Mein Herr Detective," he said to him.

"In Chicago, the strange ritualistic murders continued with yet another victim," Mason said, " a male in his teens, murdered and his body found butchered in the backstage area. Police who came to each of these crime scenes interrogated you and your band members but no one seems to know anything. It's always the same alibi. They don't know who did it, they saw nothing suspicious. You were all just doing your thing, playing your music and completely unaware of any killer lurking around."

"Herr Detective, of course I'm aware of all that has happened at my concerts," Siegfried said, "but it is just as my fellow musicians and I have stated. We are innocent. It is very shameful to insist on treating me like a suspect. I have already spoken with detectives of the Los Angeles Police Department and Chicago and the Cleveland Police. They are on my side and don't consider me a suspect."

"I'm not saying you did it, Mr. Kroll," Mason said, "I believe that all suspects are innocent until proven guilty. Unfortunately, whether you like it or not, you are involved in this case. The murders occurred at your concerts. Your music, and therefore yourself, is part of the murder investigation; which brings me to the subject of your music. Let's talk about it."

"Very well then, what would you like to know? Have you even heard any of my albums?"

When his German accent wasn't "on", it appeared as if he spoke with a British accent. Doubtless, thought Mason Holmes, he had played music in London which had always welcomed new rock singers, and many of the greatest rock singers, such as the Beatles and Duran Duran, were British.

"I'd like to know why you include lyrics with mention of occult themes and Satanism."

Siegfried stared at him with a look which seemed to say "how stupid are you?"

"But mein Herr, have you never seen my televised interviews or heard me on the radio discussing this very topic with folks who are on the political Right Wing and who are Christian? I am a follower of Anton LaVey's Church of Satan, founded on Walpurgis Night, 1966. I look younger but I am in my forties. I have been in the rock music business since the late 60's. In the early 70's, I began to practice the occult arts. I can't tell you how much it has helped me to become a successful musician. My band became very popular in the 70's. It has always been public knowledge that I'm a Satanist. It's not as if I'm the only rock star or heavy metal artist linked with Satanism. There are many of us. But people don't know one bit about our religion. It's not "evil", it's not a cult; it's nothing as dark or dangerous as some people believe. I can assure you, I am not responsible for those murders. I did not murder those teenagers."

"But haven't you considered the possibility that your music inspired some fan of yours to commit these murders?"

"That still wouldn't be my fault. My music is my art and I do not apologize for being an individual in a conformist Reagan's America," he said emphatically, as if he had rehearsed the line, "I don't want to get into charged debate with you as I have in radio and TV debates. I was physically booted off that awful talk show "Hot Seat With Wally George" because he was disgusted by my music. I repeat: I may be a Satanist, but it's purely for personal reasons and it has been a ticket-seller at my concerts. People love my music. I even teach the young classic literature like Dante and Milton. They learn bits and pieces of Latin, and they learn about mystical and pagan religions and cultures of the past."

"That's all well and good but still, Satanism has many branches and some are quite dangerous and harmful," Mason said, "we can't forget all the crimes that have been committed already by Satanists such as the Charles Manson cult which I'm sure you can still remember."

"Again, mein Herr Detective. I don't like that I'm being treated like a suspect. Now if you'll excuse me, Herr Detective, I'm expecting a girl here in a few minutes. I'd hate for her to see you here bringing on the Inquisition. It will totally turn her off. She's my date and I have a special dinner prepared."

Mason Holmes stared at him for a bit and then got up. As he approached the door he turned around.

"Mr. Kroll, you did not answer my first question. What is your real name? If you don't give it, I will have more cause to believe you are a suspicious figure."

"I have not gone by my real name in ages. I was born Erich Wolfgang Stader. Is that all? I'd rather you leave now. My date is due to arrive within minutes and I don't want a third party present. It is to be a romantic date."

Mason Holmes turned and shut the door.

FIVE

The girl that walked into Siegfried Kroll's suite was a leggy brunette with blue eyes, puffed-up hair and a lot of make-up. She had on a tight leopard-skin skirt and her blouse was open to the naval. She sauntered into the parlor and as soon as he saw her, Siegfried beckoned her on to his lap. She was on his lap instantly and he held her in a tight embrace.

"How's my favorite groupie baby?" he said to her.

"I'm doing so-so," she said, "I've been trying to get into one of your music videos but I had to go through a modeling agency first."

"I can't just guarantee you a spot in my videos just because we fuck now and then."

"Someone was in here just a while ago. Who was it? Was it another groupie?"

"Now, Christine, you know you're my number one girl. It was just business, an unpleasant matter of business as a matter of fact. But he's gone now. I've prepared you a nice dinner in the dining room."

"This place has a dining room, too?"

"It's got the works, babe. So come on, let's eat so we can move on to dessert in the bedroom, if you catch my drift."

The girl Christine looked naïve, like one of those girls who were easy to manipulate and were too gullible. These kinds of girls Siegfried was drawn to, for the reason that they found him to be the total alpha male, the rock star of their dreams and crushes. He liked them young, too, even under eighteen. Christine had followed Siegfried Kroll as a groupie since her own adolescence in Vienna. When she had turned eighteen, she came to the US and continued to attend his concerts. She knew he had other groupies whom he bedded but she didn't care. She enjoyed being around him and to serve him. It was a sexual pleasure she got from being his "rock slut." She hoped, however, that she could win his heart and perhaps even become his wife.

They walked into the dining room, another beautifully-decorated room, with a blood-red carpet, cut-glass chandelier and candelabrum sprawled on the large table. He had the cooks in the hotel prepare lobster and wine and they sat down to eat with a zesty appetite. There was music in the background, coming from an unseen LP. It was one of Siegfried's albums, and a lengthy electric guitar solo was playing, full of spectacular finger work which hit both high and low notes in a swift and showy fashion.

"Is that you playing the solo or Ulrich?" she asked him.

Ulrich was one of the musicians in his band that also played an electric guitar with considerable skill.

"No, that's me," he said, "it's from latest album. I'm surprised you haven't heard it."

"I listen to other groups, too, you know. I've been to the Monsters of Rock Festival two times."

They continued to eat their dinner and afterward they shared white wine. The rock music was getting Christine hot, and her eyes never left Siegfried, letting him know that she wanted to make love with him. Siegfried stared at her and grinned. He got up from the table and walked over to her side of the table.

"Let's get out of this boring place and get high and make love, what do you say?" he said to her, with a naughty expression in his face.

"Oh, are we leaving the hotel? I thought I would spend the night."

"I have a concert, Christine. You know that. I can't have you here all night. Now come here, I want to fuck you."

He had no style, no seductive charms, he was vulgar but he took what he wanted and Christine loved that. He had his hands on her breasts and played with them, cupping them and using his thumb to stroke and rub her nipples which instantly hardened under his touch. He was kissing her, and his kiss deepened as it progressed. She cupped his face and closed her eyes. She loved how he kissed. She knew that he had animal lust and they had enjoyed intense, hardcore sex many times before.

He was even very kinky, which didn't matter much to her because she was just as kinky. In the past, they had enjoyed an S and M style relationship. He had tied her up and flogged her. He was famous in Europe for being in the S and M lifestyle, which was more or less new at the time and all the rage. He had taken her to clubs in which public floggings and public sex was permitted.

"Are we going to a club tonight? Do you know of any in this town?" she said to him.

"No. I don't feel like humiliating you in front of others tonight or walking you on a leash."

"I can still wear a leash if you want. I brought it with me."

"Alright. But not till after we get indoors. I'm taking you to my penthouse suite in Park Avenue."

The pent house suite was of course beautiful. It was designed in a modern style and he had mostly photographs of himself on the walls and posters of horror films, which he was fond of. Like any good Satanist, he had an altar, made of onyx, with two large ebony candelabras with painted blood over the little bit of candle wax that seemed to ooze directly under the candles. Above the altar was an oil painting depicting the Devil. It was Christine's first time in his penthouse suite. Doubtless, the times he had been in New York he must have brought other groupies and fans over. She looked at the painting of Satan with impressed eyes.

"Did you do that yourself?"

"The whole thing," he said, "the altar and the painting. Come on let me show you to my room."

He wasn't wasting any time. She could sense his urgent need for sex. He took her across the living room to a small hallway. On either side, suspended from the walls, were Gothic gargoyles, black, with bat wings and eerie red eyes that seemed to follow anyone who passed by. From the top of their heads were little candles that were glowing. He had a mixture of modern décor and Gothic, spooky, like a haunted house. She wondered what other surprises she'd find in his bedroom.

The bedroom commanded a view of the city and she found it marvelous. His king size bed was also in black, black posters, black headboard. The satin sheets were dark red. On a desk were more red candles, on the nightstand and on the floor. The room was cast in a dim red light, which she found sexy and Gothic. It was a turn on.

They sat on the floor and began to take crack cocaine, which was a favorite drug of theirs.

They looked at each other silently. He began to disrobe. He was looking at her the whole time, with that look, so full of lust and seductive prowess, his eyebrows slanting upwards, his breathing audible, making her hot for him. He knew what she liked.

He had put on a leather jacket and jeans before leaving the Plaza but now he was fully nude. He had not been wearing any underwear. His cock was semi-erect already. She began to take off her top. As she struggled with her own skirt and stockings, he helped her to undress completely while kissing each other with wanton abandon. Their tongues were sliding into one another hungrily, their bodies in heat, and their hearts pounding. She knew he was in no mood for slow and tender lovemaking. There was to be no foreplay. He grinned at her and gave her a look that she seemed to recognize. In the background, coming from an unseen record player, was heavy metal music from another album that was not Siegfried's. It was from a group he was associated with called Vampire. One of his singers, Val Morgan, was the lead singer of that group.

"Kneel, bitch," he said to her in a commanding tone.

She was on her knees at once and he placed his cock against her lips. She opened her mouth and received his cock. He was well-endowed, like a male porn star, and he had the habit of shaving the hair off his balls. His cock was very white and pink looking with a pretty big head. She took it into her mouth sucking on it gratefully, murmuring and moaning as she sucked.

He had his hands on her brown hair, pulling at it and grasping it forcefully. She was no longer taking just the head but taking as much of his cock as she could into her throat. He made her gag with his cock and she was simultaneously fingering her own pussy. He loved that she could do the "no hands" trick.

By now, his cock was ready to shoot cum and he did so all over her face and breasts. Aching for more, she made his cock big again by keeping her hands on it. He took her by the hair, pulled her up and onto the bed and spread her legs. He had her in an arm lock from behind. He was hard again and rubbed his cock against her wet slit. She cried out as she writhed against him.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," he said to her.

"Fuck me, please," she begged.

He put on her collar, which she had brought along and had put on the floor. He jerked it and this hurt her throat. The song on the record player had changed and it was now a classic rock anthem, Meatloaf's "Bat out of Hell."

He now inserted his cock into her pussy from behind. He pounded her pussy deeply and heavily, making her scream for a long period of time. Her voice became hoarse. He held her by the waist and fucked her relentlessly across the bed, hitting the headboard. The hours flew by. She had several orgasms as he continued to fuck her until he was ready to cum once again.

They looked at each other with a relaxed but not calm look. She continued to hold his cock and rub the shaft, gently while kissing it to keep it hard. He was able to stay hard, another thing his sex partners, mostly groupies, enjoyed about him.

The song on the record player had changed again. It was Cream's "Sunshine Of Your Love".

"I'll soon be with you my love, to give you my dawn surprise".......

He picked her up all of a sudden and threw her on to the bed. She was on her stomach and she knew that he wanted to take her in the ass. She raised her ass to him and readied herself for his cock to slip inside her tight asshole. She was panting, as if she had been running, and she sprawled herself over the blood-red sheets with easy sexuality. She looked back at him.

"You've got the nicest ass of any girl I know," he said to her.

"Thanks baby," she said to him, drinking up the praise.

"Who's your master?" he said to her.

"You are."

"I can't hear you."

"You are."

"Damn right bitch."

"I've been waiting so long, to be where I'm going....."

He slapped her ass suddenly, heavily, and made her wince and scream out. She wiggled her ass and he continued to caress her ass cheeks, which were small but perfectly toned and rotund. He inserted his finger into her asshole, preparing her, opening it up and making her pussy wet at the same time. His fingers were now in her pussy, giving her a profound sensual wave of pleasure. She moaned and writhed as he finger-fucked her for only a brief moment. She closed her eyes and laid her head down on the bed, grabbing a hold of a pillow.
"Tell me you want me to fuck your ass, bitch."

"Fuck it, fuck my ass, it's yours."

He began to slip his big cock into her tight ass, and it was all the way in before long. She moved her ass against his hips, and the smacking sounds echoed in the bedroom. He was pounding her ass roughly and swiftly. She screamed in sheer pleasure and pain as the anal fucking continued. She was faint. His long hair was in disarray as he savagely fucked her in the ass.

"Oh, fuck," she cried out," oh fuck."

She had learned that shouting out "Oh God!" was not to his liking, since he worshipped the Devil, so instead she had become used to shouting out "Oh fuck" instead. He liked that better. The bed was rocking with the strength of his thrusts, making her scream out and utter wordlessly. Sweat poured from them and the night wore on as he banged her ass and slapped it at the same time.

He mercilessly fucked her ass until she was spent. His cum was a load and spewed all over the sheets. They tried to relax but she obviously wanted more. She was hungry for more. He was suddenly cold and absent, his mind elsewhere. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost two in the morning. He gazed at her as she took hold of his cock softly.

"No more tonight, Christine," he said to her.

"I want more," she said, "I want to feel more. I want to die of pleasure. If I were to die, I'd rather it be now after what we just did."

"You want to die?"

Maybe it was the drugs talking. Siegfried had been high himself. They had had this conversation countless times before, even in Europe. Christine came from a broken home. Her parents had had a nasty divorce when she was in her teens. Her father had been an alcoholic who had beaten her mother and also Christine. More than that, he had molested her.

She had gotten into drugs before the age of eighteen and wandered aimlessly in Europe. In Amsterdam, she met Siegfried at one of his live rock shows. He had thrilled audiences with a performance that only Amsterdam's seedy night life permitted. He publicized the show as a combination of rock and live sex. He had been belting out one of his hits and the crowds in the mosh pit loved it. Christine was there. It was not her first time she had seen Siegfried at a concert. She had followed his European tours from Vienna.

The Amsterdam concert made headlines. He had promised that he would take a fan out of the mosh pit and on to the stage to make into his sexual slave and favorite groupie and sex toy.

The lights of the concert building overhead cast an illuminating white light over the crowds in the dark pit, and the lights sought her out, and Christine came into view. She was an angel in the mosh pit, so beautiful, her hands outstretched, as if yearning for his touch and his alone. He beckoned her on to the stage. Before a live audience, he had fucked her and collared her, proclaiming her his property and his bitch in the S and M style. But later on that week, after several days of taking drug trips, she had confessed to Siegfried that she was suicidal and wanted to die. She had always wanted him to kill her.

And now here she was again, fragile and looking beautiful to him.

"Do it," she said to him.

He told her to wait. Afterward, he came back from the kitchen with a sharp knife. He put it against her throat, and the blade glimmered in cold, cruel silver.

"I love you," she said to him.

"I love you," he repeated as he took her life................

SIX

Hudson was waiting for his blind date in his car.

He had recently given his black Camaro a paint job; jet-black which made it glossier and a red line right above the wheels.

He was in a suit, not a tux, as he had no desire to be seen in a penguin suit. He thought the girl would think he was too stuffy or snobbish. He was in a dress shirt, slacks and blazer, with no tie. He had brought her a bouquet of roses. The Professor had given him her address. She lived in a two-story home in Flushing, Queens.

It was early, six in the afternoon. The sun was setting and darkness slowly descended over the quiet street. In no time, the girl waved goodbye to her mother who was at the door. They both waved at Hudson.Hudson waved back and smiled.

"You two have a good time," the mother said in a distinctly Southern drawl.

The girl approached the car. Hudson opened the door locks and she stepped into the passenger seat. She kissed him suddenly on the lips, something he wasn't expecting and took him by total surprise. The kiss was brief but hard. She then smacked his thigh.

"Howdy!" she yelled at him, "I'm Sally Dee."

He looked at her with total surprise. She was obviously a fiery thing and wild. Her green eyes were like two flames. Her hair was puffed up in a sort of dome. Her hair was dyed blonde and in the Dolly Parton style. She had on a pink "cowgirl" outfit. Her denim jacket had little white rhinestones on it and her skirt was white and had little tassels at the hem. She looked like she was going square dancing, which they were most certainly not. In fact, she was dressed inappropriately for the occasion.

"You're not really taking me to the Makado thing right?" she said to him.

"The Professor said it was for your own college course credit," Hudson answered.

"And what are you some kind of moral police guy? I don't' want to go to that stupid thing. It's probably sung in Japanese and the only word of Japanese I know is "sushi". Why don't we go to a nice bar? They've got live music, darts, a pool table, karaoke. It's so much fun. What do you say?"

Hudson had actually wanted to see The Mikado. He looked at her and she gave him a look that seemed to silently question: are you a man or a mouse?

"Fine," he said, "but I hate having to lie to the Professor. You ought to go to the opera. I'm all dressed for it."

"Yeah well I'm not. I don't want to make a quick wardrobe change either. So come on, fella, take me to that bar I like. It's not far from here. It's a country western themed bar."

Figures thought Hudson.

"It's called Hoot's, as in Hoot Gibson."

He had no idea what she was talking about. The girl was obviously new to New York City and did not look as if she was fitting in well. He started the car and they drove out of the street and onto the main street. They didn't say anything for a while. A few minutes later, Sally lit up a cigarette.

"I don't like the smell of cigar smoke in my car," he said to her.

"You really are a cop, aren't ya?"

"Didn't the Professor tell you? Hell yeah I'm a cop and a damn good one too."

"Well relax, sonny. I'm not violating any laws by having a smoke. You see any no-smoking signs?"

She laughed. It was an annoying laugh. It was high pitched and wild, almost hyena like. She slapped his thigh again.

"Don't do that," he said to her.

They drove down a long street that was getting full of traffic. It was a weekend and traffic was heavy with outgoing New Yorkers ready to hit the town.

"Your name is Hudson Banach the Professor told me," she said, "I love that name. It almost sounds like you're from my hometown of Nashville. Hudson. You could be Elvis' estranged brother or something."

"You're kidding me, right? I look nothing like Elvis. I'm Italian."

"Oh I love Italians".

She laughed again and continued to smoke. Hudson knew it was going to be a terrible date and the night would be too long......

Hoot's was exactly like Hudson imagined it would be. It was a redneck bar in every sense of the word. Sally was perfectly at home and quite comfortable in this environment. She was evidently into the cowboy scene and so much that she forgot she was with Hudson. Instantly, she walked over to the bar.

Hudson was speechless. This crazy girl had just done a terrible thing by putting the Professor's City Opera tickets to waste. Hudson was like a fish out of water in his well-tailored suit. He looked like a lawyer who had just got off work and had not yet changed clothes. Sally was one very careless and insensitive girl, and obviously spoiled.

Hudson watched from a distance as she was able to get two men order her two different drinks. Then after apparently flirting with the men (he was unable to hear what they were saying) she approached Hudson. What was this girl thinking, Hudson thought. She flashed him a big smile. She handed him the drink. Hudson noticed it was cold beer in a mug. She was holding another mug and drinking it down.

The music at the bar was all country music -- Pat Boone, Johnny Cash and Dolly Parton among other singers. There were mostly men at the bar, which Hudson found very odd. The only other females were about four other girls who were with dates and the waitresses and barmaids. Because there were only a few girls at the bar, Sally Dee, in her flashy get-up, was able to get men's attentions. She smiled and tossed her head as she laughed flirtatiously, her pear-shaped earrings dancing. She was like Scarlett O'Hara at the Plantation Barbecue; attracting men by doing little more than flash a smile.

"Aren't you going to drink, sonny?" she said to him, "or are you against drinking too just like you're against smoking?"

"No," Hudson replied, "what I don't like is how you're acting tonight. What the heck's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me???" she repeated rather emphatically, "what do you mean? You're the one who's not even trying to have fun. Come on, loosen up. I'll see if I can get some guy to order more drinks for us."

"I can order a drink for myself, Sally."

"Suit yourself."

She sat down on a chair and finished her drink. Hudson sat next to her. He looked around. Hudson wondered what the Professor had been thinking when he hooked her up with this crazy cowgirl. Only minutes into the date and he knew that she was the date from hell.

It was not that he was close-minded and had an aversion to country music or cowgirl types. The way he figured, Southern gals or cowgirl types like Sally were better than girls who wore cop uniforms. But Sally was over-the-top and self-absorbed. She had not paid any real attention to him. They drank in silence and stared at each other with absolutely nothing to say. The minutes flew. When a dance song came on, Sally extended her arms out to him, attempting to get him to stand up.

"Come on cop," she said to him, "let's see how well you can dance."

"I don't feel like dancing."

"You better give me this dance or I'll swear I'll find another partner, or two."

He sighed and got up. He might as well dance. Who knows, Hudson thought, perhaps it would lift his spirits and he'd actually have fun. The date was already going to hell as it was. Maybe a nice dance would improve things. He got up and they stepped onto the dance floor. It was swift country dance music, but it was not square dancing. Hudson had never square danced before in his life and he was grateful Sally wasn't making him do that.

The dance was modern and full of pulsating rhythms. It was a combination of pop and hillbilly. She was light on her feet and a good dancer, grooving to the music like only she could. But Hudson was unable to keep up and consequently looked quite awkward. Others were staring at him.

Sally noticed.

"Say, partner, "she said to him, trying to be cute, "you have two left feet and it's showing. You gonna tell me you've never danced to this kind of music before?"

"No, I haven't," he said in earnest," I think waltzing would be a whole lot easier."

"Oh you're funny, honey. Don't the girls here dance to this music? "

"Sally this isn't Texas or Oklahoma. This is New York. You gotta adapt."

"You hush your mouth. If this is such a diverse city, then my culture is also allowed. It's you who should adapt."

"This is not about culture," Hudson said, suddenly halting, "you've been very disrespectful and careless. We were supposed to go see opera. Why do you think I dressed up like this? And instead you dragged me to this bar. It's an insult to Professor Goldstein and to me."

"Oh, you have to be kidding me. I'm having fun and you should too."

"Well I'm not having fun."

She was ignoring him at this point. She pinched his cheek and kissed him briefly. Afterward she walked off the dance floor and headed for the bar to get men to buy her drinks. Hudson had never felt more humiliated.

Before long, she had a drink in her hand and a new dance partner. He was a tall, lanky man in a cowboy hat and jeans. His belt had a horse design. They were dancing up a storm while Hudson watched in astonishment. This girl was unbelievable. She was the most obnoxious, the rudest and wild girl he had ever seen. He wondered what he should do next.

A chubby brunette waitress who handed him a free drink leaned into his ear and asked:

"Are you with that girl?"

"Apparently not," Hudson said.

"Don't worry, honey. Everyone here knows who she is. She acts like that all the time. She's a spoiled little brat if you ask me. Her mother is Norma Dee, the retired country singer. She doesn't commit to any guy and parties all the time. My advice is just get the heck out of here. You look like a fine man and you deserve better."

"Thank you," Hudson replied.

He ordered a drink from the waitress and tipped her. He finished his drink while brooding with a sullen face.

As he was about to leave he turned to look at Sally one last time. She was no longer on the dance floor. A crowd of men had gathered around her. She was on top of the mechanical bull, straddling it and riding it as it wildly moved and gyrated beneath her. She didn't fall of and the way she rode the bull produced lusty and rowdy catcalls and cheers from the men.

"Good night Sally," Hudson said to himself, "and good riddance."

SEVEN

Loew's Paradise Theater, the Bronx, 7pm

Detective Mason Holmes and Lexa O'Neil were at the Paradise Theater. Here in this former opulent 1920's movie palace, one of Loew's five Wonder theaters in New York City, Siegfried Kroll and his band Darkness were going to hold their concert. Siegfried had a hard time booking a concert and no other place would have them. The magnificent 175th Street Theater in Manhattan was the home of Reverend Ike's Christian United Church and he would not permit a rock group known for using Satanism as part of their attraction to play at the theater.

The Kings Theater, another old grand movie palace was abandoned and in need of repairs but Siegfried and his entourage, which included roadies and crew members who worked with all the technical parts of setting up a concert and live show were quick to make all the necessary preparations and temporary repairs for the duration of Siegfried's New York City concert. His second concert would be held at the Kings Theater.

Lexa O'Neil and Mason Holmes were dressed up in "rock fan" clothes as part of their undercover operation. It was a cool night and one of many nights that would see a full moon. Siegfried always managed to hold concerts which coincided with nights in which a full moon was out. Hundreds of young spectators and fans had gathered for Siegfried's first concert and live show in New York City. It was a vast and opulent place.

Mason and Lexa marveled at the colorful murals depicting Renaissance cherubs and nymphs. There were beautiful Baroque touches here and there giving the theater the look of an Italian Baroque palatial courtyard and garden. The stage was vast and wide enough for a lavish spectacle. The complete members of Darkness were present and a few extra players in his new rock show Rock Star Faust: Pact With The Devil, his new rock opera version of the old Faust legend. . Mason Holmes looked as if he had never worn a pair of jeans in his life. Although they fit his stocky frame well, he had a hard time walking in them simply because he never wore jeans, only slacks and pants. It was not his first time undercover. He had gone undercover once before, with Lexa as his partner, when he attempted to hunt down the infamous and elusive Yellow Cab Killer. That was only a few weeks before and he had worn a business suit, which he was used to wearing. He had on a leather jacket and had put on a long black wig to give the appearance he was a rock music lover.

"You look good," Lexa said, with a flirty smile, "I love the hair. Too bad it's not yours. I wish you'd grow your hair that long, Detective."

"Yeah, right," he said with a chuckle," Internal Affairs would be on my case all the time. They'd probably think I was doing drugs or too immature to be a cop."

They shared a laugh. Mason eyed Lexa up and down. She was wearing a leather jacket also, and a short blue wig. She had put on lots of make-up and rouge. She had on a short leather skirt and boots.

"Isn't that what you wore when you were undercover in Atlantic City when you were after that Jack the Ripper killer?" he pointed out.

"It's the same outfit but altered," she said, "plus I bought the wig at a shop. Don't you like it? I think I'll keep it."

They shared another laugh.

"You know it's fun being undercover with you, Miss O'Neil," Mason said, "it really is."

They shared a very affectionate but brief kiss. Mason held her in his arms but she quickly let go. He studied her face. She was clearly more interested in her assignment than making out, although it was times like these when they seized the opportunity to make out. They had done so in the taxi they had hailed while being undercover the last time.

"No hanky-panky tonight, Detective," she said to him, "we're working."

"I know, I know."

"Hey, Lexie, can I ask you something?"

"What's that?"

"How come you still call me "Detective"? We're a little more than friends now aren't we?"

"You want to know the truth? I actually love calling you that. It's kind of a turn on. It makes me feel...very womanly to just call you detective. It gives you a lot of authority."

"Well I never thought of it that way. I guess I won't mind so much now."

"And I like it when you call me Miss O'Neil. It's very cute and sexy."

"Shh. Looks like the show's about to start."

The lights were dimmed. On the stage dry ice and a fog machine, unseen by the crowds, was being used to provide the right kind of eerie and ominous mood. Fog and black smoke appeared on the stage while an electric guitar riff was heard from out of nowhere. Then in a puff of smoke, Siegfried appeared, holding his guitar and playing it. From the darkness emerged the other members -- Manfred, Wolfgang, Diedrich, Ulrich and Val. Manfred was playing another guitar, Ulrich was on drums, Wolfgang was on bass and Val and Diedrich were vocalists.

"Faust was a rock star," Val said in song-like narrative, "from days of yore, from the 1970's. He had never produced a single hit album until he made a pact with the Devil....."

The Overture to the rock opera played and the musicians, Siegfried, included were lowered all of a sudden by giant strings into a pit beneath the stage overlooking the audience. It was obviously an orchestra pit.

Mason and Lexa had a hard time keeping track of Siegfried. Not only were there too many people all around them and even ahead of them but the lights were low, almost completely dark, and there were too many distractions. A flashy laser show broke out. The show had begun. The Overture was another inspired instrumental/synthesizer piece composed by Siegfried. From the sunken pit, he began to play the electric guitar in various showy riffs and a killer solo that oddly enough had the musical effect of an old Baroque instrument, like the harpsichord, only played demonically fast. The other musicians joined in a furious fugue that was reminiscent of Johann Sebastian Bach. Lexa could recognize the similarities, except Siegfried had cleverly composed it using heavy metal and rock music.

After the Overture, the dry ice and fog cleared away and a young man in a diamond-studded cape and punk hair emerged. It was Val Morgan, one of the singers from the band. He began to sing, to the accompaniment of the rock styles of Darkness. He had a loud, definitely rock star voice, and he had an incredible vocal range, from deep lower notes to a screeching falsetto high register:
"Sold my soul, sold my soul, and who hasn't? I did it all for Love, and all for Fame and Glory, It's the same old Story...All those who made it big did the same Sold my soul ...Sold my soul and who hasn't?...."

The first "act" of the rock opera had lots of special effects, and this monster movie type of stuff was what Siegfried's band was famous for. Faust the rock star is transformed from human to satyr, half-man and half-goat. The woman he loves, a girl who looked Goth in dark hair and dark clothes and a ton of blood-red make-up, rejects his love after his transformation. As for the Devil, played by Siegfried himself, he strutted around the stage belting out his own songs in red body paint and long flowing cape, Siegfried's signature costume.

"Could you believe I'm actually enjoying this?" Mason said to Lexa.

"It's pretty operatic stuff," Lexa said, "they could use some of those sets for the Metropolitan Opera."

"So here's what I want us to do, Lexie. During intermission, we'll go to Siegfried's dressing room and we'll talk to him, let him know we're undercover cops doing our thing. His reaction will say everything. If he's ok with us being here like this, then he's probably not a suspect. If he reacts strangely, then we have reason to believe he's responsible for all the bizarre murders. So far I have seen nothing strange. I've been keeping an eye out."

"You must have great eyesight, Detective. It's kind of hard to do that with all these rowdy teens."

Intermission time arrived.

There was to be an Act 2 Finale afterward. The fans were still treated to a few instrumental pieces by the other musicians but Siegfried and Val, who had been singing the part of Faust, excused themselves and left the stage. Mason and Lexa cut through the crowds and headed for the backstage area. They let the security guards in that area know that they were undercover cops with Homicide. They allowed them to walk into the backstage area. Because the Paradise was such an old theater, they had used various parts of it for a vast backstage area and it sprawled before them like a labyrinth.

Little did rock fans know the world behind the curtains Here Mason and Lexa saw a host of groupies, smoking and preening in their little make-up mirror kits. They were standing in a row, almost like a chorus line, each waiting their turn to chat with Siegfried. They were apparently waiting for him to emerge from his dressing room. Some of them were walking up and about. When the other members of Darkness arrived backstage, some of them approached them and each took the arm of their favorite idol.

"Hey, you two," said Diedrich, one of the vocalists from the band, shouting out to Mason and Lexa, "yeah you guys. What do you think you're doing? You're in a restricted area."

"We're New York Police, Homicide detectives," Mason said, "this is Lexa O'Neil and I'm Detective Mason Holmes."

He showed Diedrich his police identification as did Lexa. The singer was silent and nodded.

"If you're looking for Siegfried, he's getting dressed and ready for the next act."

"We need to talk to him."

Diedrich did not say a word but nodded again. There was a look of concern and an "it's all over" expression in his face. Mason and Lexa approached Siegfried's dressing room. It had the classic star painted on the door with his name on it. Mason knocked forcefully on the door.

"Fraulein, I'm not ready yet, I told you. Come to me after the show," said Siegfried.

"He must think it's one of his groupies," Lexa said to Holmes.

"Mr. Kroll, we're with New York City Police. We need to talk to you," Mason Holmes said.

"Come in."

He looked up from his chair. He was looking into the glass of the vanity mirror, framed with light bulbs, and applying red lipstick. He was in his Devil costume but with a slight variation. He was wearing the satyr's lower half -- the goat legs in addition to the cape, ram horns and crown. On the table beneath the mirror were little red candles and he had his hookah with him, though he was not smoking it. A plastic skull was on the desk under the mirror.

On another part of the dressing room, there was a bong and it had been recently used. Siegfried had a cold expression in his face, and it was very legible: he was not pleased to see cops at his show. He made a gesticulation with his hand to let Mason and Lexa know they could take a seat on two chairs in the room.

"Surprised to see us, Mr. Kroll?" Mason said to him.

"Not at all," he said, "I'm glad you came to one of my shows. Did you enjoy the first act?"

"It wasn't bad," Lexa replied, "lots of showy theatrical effects and killer rock melodies."

"I composed each song myself."

He said that as if to flirt and make himself appear impressive in front of Lexa whom he was regarding as beautiful.

"Mr. Stader, isn't that what you told me your real name was?" Lexa replied, ignoring his lusty look.

"Yes."

"Well Mr. Stader, we're here investigating in an undercover position. Since so many deaths have occurred in your own concerts, we figured tonight's show would not be any different."

"And have you found the murderer?"

"We've seen nothing suspicious or strange."

"You see, Herr Detective. It's like I said. I'm not behind any murders and neither is the band. I hope that this proves it once and for all."

"Not exactly," Mason said, "just because one show went by without any incident doesn't mean that the case is closed. The killer is out there, somewhere, closer than we think. He might even be at tonight's show."

"If you're so good at what you do, Detective, it shouldn't be hard to find him," Siegfried said, with a deliberately slow and sly voice, "it is probably right under your nose all along."

"We'll see. My partner Miss O'Neil and I will be back again for your second concert and show at the King's Theater."

"Oh, I shall be delighted to see you there. Do bring another friend."

He was being curt and sarcastic and Mason wondered if he found all this amusing. It was really a strange way to react, too.

"Come on, Lexie, let's get out of here."

"Aren't you staying for the final act? We have lots more numbers and monster rock ballads."

They closed the door and left Siegfried alone to stare at them with a sly grin on his face.

EIGHT

Mason came down with the flu and as luck would have it, Hudson Banach was asked to fill in for him.

He would be working undercover again for Homicide. It was not unusual. He worked both Vice and Homicide in undercover and paid positions, if only because he was quite good at what he did as a cop. Lexa did not like that she had to work with him again, knowing there would be tension again. They were told to use one of their own cars, and to go to the concert quite late, so as to catch the singers off-guard and to keep a lower profile. The idea was if they arrived somewhat later while the night wore on, they might find that something was amiss.

They were appropriately dressed again: Lexa in the same skirt but a different wig, this time a red one, and Hudson in a leather jacket and tight-fitting blue jeans. Lexa decided to wear black boots.

Hudson and Lexa had argued over which car to use. Lexa had recently bought herself a stylish but small blue Corvette. She wanted to use it and she figured it was cool enough to take to a rock concert. But Hudson wanted to take his own black Camaro with the phoenix emblem on the hood. Lexa, too tired for a fight, gave up and they ended up driving Hudson's car to the concert. They drove in silence, not uttering a word. They had argued over things like that before. When they had been assigned as partners back when they were both still working patrol duties, they always fought over who would drive the police car. Sometimes Hudson would yield to Lexa and other times Lexa had to let Hudson drive.

A greater crowd arrived at the Kings Theater in Brooklyn than had attended Siegfried's show at the Paradise in the Bronx. A large poster was outside the theater. It was the horror movie poster for Siegfried's horror film Lucifer. He would be showing a short preview of the film to the audience before his show began. This show, he had told his fans, would use many of the special effects, costumes, sets and even animatronics that would be used for the movie. Another group was singing there that night, opening for Darkness. It was a similar type of band, only this one appeared to be more of the Goth rock type. It was called "Vampire". The members dressed in the signature black garments of Goths, wore lots of makeup and even had fangs.

"Who's their lead singer, Dracula?" joked Hudson.

"I've heard of these weird types. Some of them actually engage in consensual bloodsucking. It's a lifestyle and culture. Isn't it terrible?"

"Oh I don't know. I wouldn't let just anyone bite my neck. It would have to be someone very special to me."

He laughed out loud.

"Come on, be serious, and let's focus. Remember, Mason said to keep a lower profile this time."

As Lexa looked closer at the poster, she noticed that their lead singer, Val, was the singer that Siegfried used a lot for his shows. He was dressed entirely in black, which Lexa knew was the new underground Gothic fashion among some teens. He had his mouth wide open and fangs that dripped with blood. This brought to her mind somethingMason had said when he first assigned her to the case. One of the two killers bit his victim's necks like a vampire. Could it be possible that Val....?

They entered the theater. Inside, the old movie palace had been restored, in part, to some of its former splendor. A beautiful mix of Rococo and nineteenth century French Second Empire design adorned the interior of the theater. The theater was vast and Hudson and Lexa wondered if any newcomer could get lost by accident in the nearly labyrinth-like atmosphere.

The crowds flocked like sheep into the main auditorium. A separate room which had many seats was a screen room and a preview of Siegfried's horror film was playing. By the time Hudson and Lexa arrived, the movie preview was over and everyone was in their seats before the vast stage and enjoying the beginning of Act 2 of Siegfried's rock opera.

It was his first heavy metal rock opera, which he had written about age eighteen back in Austria. It was scored with electric guitars, drums, bass, strings, chorus, synthesizer, organ and other very innovative instruments that evoked an older period but still remained very "rock". This was his first attempt at music and it showed a musical genius at work. His rock opera was called Siegfried, and despite its title bearing his own name, it was a rock version of the 19th century Richard Wagner operas "Ring of the Nibelung", a fantastic account of the rise and fall of the Norse gods by a cursed ring. To get audiences to relate, he made the hero into another "rock star" heroic type, with all the hair and glamour of a 1980's heavy metal star, made Brunhilde, the love interest, a gorgeous blonde in breastplates and thong. The gods who dwelled in the golden and heavenly Valhalla were changed to "gods of rock and roll" who often battled each other on electric guitar. The big winner was a killer guitar which transformed into a sword to slay the Red Dragon, a huge animatronic winged dragon based on the Great Red Dragon described in the Book of Revelations. Among other monsters used in his show was the "Beast" of the Apocalypse whose number was 666. Audiences in Europe loved his rock opera and it was being shown for the first time in New York City.

Hudson and Lexa found that there were no more available seats so they had to stand and watch all the spectacle. On the stage was fog, covering the floor like a thick mantle, and a fake forest. Siegfried was being sung by another band member, one that Lexa had not recognized from the previous night. He was in the middle of a big song and purple, red and white lasers shot into the air above him as he sang to the accompaniment of the band. As he finished the lengthy song, his electric guitar, which he had been holding gently falls from his hand and disappears in the fog and mist. From the darkness above him there was a glow. It was a yellow-gold, red and white light which dazzled the spectators and as they focused their eyes in the dark, they noticed it was a great bejeweled sword. The sword flew into his hand and he wielded it, his heroic image complete.

The audience broke into applause.

"Hey that's not bad," Hudson observed, "this guy knows a little opera. The Professor told me about Wagner's operas and this guy knows the story to the Ring of the Nibelung really well. He must be very smart."

"Well, I only met him last night for the first time," Lexa said, "and he didn't seem like the good kind of genius to me if you know what I mean."

"Shh, here's more," Hudson said, absorbed in the show.

From the darkness emerged a large animatronic red dragon, with enormous wings. It spewed fire, and the special effects were breathtaking, creating a zesty response from the audiences who cheered. To the strains of more monster rock music and elaborate riffs and solos, Siegfried slayed the dragon and awoke the beautiful sleeping Brunhilde, who had been enchanted by her father Odin, the King of the Gods, and surrounded in high fiery flames. He awoke the heroine with a passionate, open mouth kiss.

What followed was an epic, Gothic, very elaborate "rock tragedy" inspired by the final Wagner "Ring" opera Gotterdammerung. A rival rock band, jealous of Siegfried and his magic guitar, jealous that he had his hot girlfriend Brunhilde, stab Siegfried during a hunt and force Brunhilde to marry the Beast. Grief-stricken and desperate, she erects Siegfried's Funeral Pyre and to great rock music, summons her winged horse Grane and immolates herself by leaping into the flames. This causes the end of the world and Valhalla burns to ashes. Nothing but darkness remained on the stage.

"Looks like we got here only in time to see the last part," Hudson said, "Any sign of the guy?"

"Siegfried seems to be absent," Lexa said, "come on, let's go back stage and see if he's there."

NINE

The groupies regarded Lexa in her short blue wig, skirt and boots like she was too old to even be a groupie on some rock star's tour. Lexa completed her undercover image by bringing along a cigarette. She loved that undercover as a hooker or in this case a groupie, she had an excuse to smoke, which she loved to do at any rate. Hudson, too, smoked, and he had worn his hair in a ponytail to give his "rock fan" persona a more plausible appearance. They walked into the backstage area and discovered that no one had seen Siegfried. He had been the narrator voice in the first act and had sung a few lines before leaving the theater.

"You think he's up to something? Was he aware we were coming?" Hudson inquired.

"I don't know. I just know in my gut that Siegfried is the killer. He's so devilish. What we ought to do now is talk to someone who might know where he might have gone. The only other place he could be is his hotel suite at the Plaza."

Suddenly a scream broke out, a woman's scream. It was marked with pain and horror and the groupies backstage grew suddenly afraid.

"The fuck was that?" said one of the groupies.

"Looks like we're in luck, Lexie," Hudson said to her, "we might be at the scene of the crime already. Let's go check it out."

They followed the screams which grew louder. At once, pandemonium reigned. The audience in their seats back at the auditorium thought it was part of the show or some kind of gimmick. Siegfried had always promoted his shows like a horror movie and screams had always been heard at his shows. No one really took it seriously and felt it was part of the heavy metal monster rock culture. But Hudson and Lexa knew better.

Instantly they found a secret door, hidden behind drapes, and Hudson thrust his foot into the door in a powerful kick. He took out his gun from his hidden holster and sprung into action, wielding the gun before him. Lexa did the same. She had concealed her gun in her purse. When their eyes took in the scene, they were struck with horror and astonishment. Val, one of the singers from Darkness and Vampire held a hysterical ash-blonde girl in an arm lock and he was about to bite into her neck and cut her throat with a sharp knife. The girl was crying and struggling against his strong grip. Behind them there was a large four poster bed and an altar to the Devil. Myriad candles were scattered on the floor in a giant pentagram formation.

"Freeze, this is the police," Hudson said.

"Drop the weapon," Lexa commanded," and leave the girl alone or we'll shoot."

He complied and released the girl who was still visibly shaken. She ran toward the cops and stood next to Lexa.

"Hands in the air, punk," Hudson said to him, "now!"

Val raised his hands in the air. Hudson cuffed him at once. Lexa put an arm on the frightened groupie.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

"I was one of his groupies," she said, "and I emphasize "was". You hear that you monster?"

She was addressing Val. She approached him, confident that she was in safe hands at the moment and spat in his face. "Take him away; he's a cold-blood killer. He was going to bite my neck without my consent and then he was going to kill me. He said the Devil told him to do it. I was going to be a sacrifice."

"Did he rape you?" Lexa said to her, trying to read the truth in the girl's eyes.

"No. You see, it was seduction. I'm a fan of his and we had consensual sex that turned ugly afterward. He was going to murder me if you hadn't come in time."

"You sick Satanist bastard," Hudson said, punching his face, "you're coming with us and you're going to answer some questions or you're going to wish you hadn't been born, you hear?"

"Miss, you're going to have to come with us to police headquarters, too," Lexa told the girl, "we need you to answer questions."

Manhattan Police Headquarters, 11pm

Val was brought into a private room where Chief Barry Hiller and a group of detectives could see and hear from behind a glass.

Inside the room, Hudson, Lexa and Detective Mason were interrogating Val who was seated on a chair in the middle of the room, looking up as the three of them walked in circles around him. He had a cold and defiant expression on his face. In leather pants and jacket, his dark hair long and his face thin and mean-looking, he looked every bit a murderer.

"Talk, you sick son of a bitch," Hudson said, "don't make me beat the shit out of you."

"Don't make this any harder than it already is, Mr. Val Morgan," Mason Holmes said, "just cooperate by answering our questions. We have been following this case since the beginning. We know that you're responsible for the murders of various teens. Bite marks were found on their necks and loss of some blood. We know that you follow a Gothic vampire culture so all the evidence points to you. But my question is this: were you taking orders to kill these teenagers from Siegfried himself?"

"I was only obeying my master Satan."

"I didn't ask whether you were taking orders from the Devil, I was asking if you were taking orders from the flesh-and-blood Siegfried Kroll. If you answer in cryptic riddles and not in plain straight-forward answers, you'll be here all night until we squeeze the truth out of you."

"Siegfried is the Devil's agent. He told me so himself. He has been hearing voices since he began to compose his music."

"Look, Morgan, I am not going to get into a spiritual conversation here. Some would argue that he's just schizophrenic and insane. I'm only concerned about the victims in all of this. You and your culture do a hell a lot of drugs and that makes you see and hear things. Mr. Kroll is obviously a mad musician with a severe drug addiction. Has he killed anyone himself or did he use you to do the dirty work?"
"He killed Danny in LA and he killed a groupie of his, Christine, plus countless other murders in Europe."

"What about you?"

"I took the lives of Natalie and Laurie and other girls in Europe."

"Yeah? And you raped them too right?"

"Yes."

"You're looking at a lifetime of imprisonment Mr. Morgan. You and Siegfried thought you could hide behind your rock star glamour and celebrity, did you? Where is Siegfried now? My partners Miss O'Neil and Mr. Banach were undercover at the last concert at the Kings Theater and told me he disappeared after singing only a few parts."

Val was silent.

"Out with it," Hudson said, "where is Siegfried Kroll?"

"I don't know."

"You better tell us, Mr. Morgan. Don't try to get him out of this. He's going to undergo a trial and he'll be given a sentence of life imprisonment for what he's done."

"I told you pigs that I don't know. He didn't tell me where he was going. He just disappeared. Call his home in Vienna or Salzburg. Check the hotels where he stayed here in New York. I can't help you any more. I've already said enough."

"Looks like he's telling us the truth, "Lexa observed, "maybe we ought to conduct a manhunt for him. As of now, he's a fugitive."

"Did you talk to the groupie he had attacked?"

"Yes. Her name's Sasha Brown. She said she didn't know that Val or Siegfried were murderers until Val put that knife to her throat and started raving about the Devil wanting a sacrifice."

"Mr. Morgan, did the other band members know about Siegfried and you acting as murderers?"

"No. Siegfried and I acted together on this. It was our calling. Catching Siegfried is going to be hard for you, Detective. The Devil will keep him safe for as long as possible."

"Not as long as there is justice," Mason said, and then he turned to Hudson and Lexa. "something tells me this guy is still in the city. He knows we're after him and he is up to something. Probably wants to play games with us. If he's such a Satan worshipper, he's probably very sure that he can escape and make fools of us."

"Where do you suppose he's hiding, Detective?"

Mason looked at Lexa in silent reflection.

"I think I know."

TEN

Mason, Hudson and Lexa had gathered enough information from interrogations at the Plaza and Siegfried'srecord producer and manager to learn that he had a pent house in Manhattan where he was seen with a girl. Putting two and two together, Mason figured that the girl had been Christine, his most loyal groupie, who was consequently murdered by Siegfried. They had a warrant to search Siegfried's pent house.

Authorities were advised to keep an eye out for the felonious rock star who was trying to evade police. By the time the search for Siegfried Kroll was on its third day, it had already made headlines and it was covered by television news and newspapers. Siegfried Kroll, the Austrian rock star, crazed on drugs and Satanic brainwashing, had committed those bizarre murders at his own concerts.

They looked everywhere in his pent house suite, searching through closets, drawers, under furniture and his bed, behind paintings, drapes and in nooks and crannies. There was nothing to indicate that he had been here recently. He had fled since the night of his last concert at the Kings Theater.

All over the walls were posters of bloody horror films from the 1970's and the more recent ones at the beginning of the 80's.

"He's a horror movie nut," Lexa remarked, looking at the posters.

Mason was busily reading some of the books he had on a bookshelf against the wall of a small den. He had writings by the notorious founder of the Church of Satan Anton LaVey who had written "The Satanic Bible". Among other books were the writings of the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche and books on witchcraft, demonology, "how to raise the dead" books and the writings of the first reported Satanist Aleister Crowley. As he browsed through various horror books by Stephen King, a photo album fell to his feet.

He flipped through it. There were black and white photographs of Siegfried as a child in Salzburg and as a rebellious teen in Vienna. Then a sepia photograph of a man in a Nazi commandant's uniform, complete with swastika caught his attention.

There was a note under the photo written in German. Fortunately for Mason, he knew how to read and speak German. The note read:

Never forget our ideals, love, your father.

"Look at this," Mason said, calling Hudson and Lexa to his side, "looks like Siegfried's daddy was a high-ranking Nazi of the Third Reich."

"Oh my," Lexa said, "that could explain a lot of things. But it doesn't seem to me Siegfried is one of those White Supremacist fanatics or Neo Nazis. He was making eyes at me when we were in his dressing room at the Paradise."

"He might not have followed in his father's racist footsteps, but he certainly took an interest in the occult and as you may or may not know, Hitler was said to be a secret follower of Satanism and the occult."

Hudson had walked away into another part of the suite. Resting against a mirror was the bejeweled sword he used as a prop in his rock opera Siegfried. It was one of several in a row of swords. The others were medieval swords, and Persian swords.

"Looks like these swords are antique and actual swords," Mason observed, "and look, you can see the slightest trace of dried blood in some of them. These are the swords he used to kill some of his victims back in Europe."

"Hey, come here, look what I found," Hudson cried out.

He had found dozens of bongs and hookahs as well as needles, marijuana, LSD and cocaine. These were all hidden behind a small writing desk. On the writing desk was a fake, plastic human skull and the pen he used to write notes with was a raven's plume. The ink was in blood.

"He really liked his drugs," Hudson said, "and that damn hookah."

"I'm surprised you didn't look at this, first, Hudson, "Lexa said to him, "you always go straight for the drugs."

"Yeah well I'm used to it. I work Vice, remember, not Homicide like you, Lexie."

"What did you find, Miss O'Neil? That skull is fake, right or is it real?"

"No the skull is a toy but the ink is real blood. And take a look at what he wrote."

She showed the Detective the note written in blood. It was in Old English style letters:

"The Devil hath Power and by His Might hath transported me to the Palace. Soon I will offer him two more sacrifices. Hear me. I know that thou hast searched my home and are reading this letter. Herr Detective, why don't you send one of your pigs to find me. No tricks. Two cops, one showdown."

"The bastard knows we're here," Mason said, "he's playing games with us. He's showing every sign that he's of a psychopathic serial killer sort of mind."

"That blood is probably that groupie he killed, Christine, "Hudson said.

"So what is he asking?" Lexa said, "what does he want?"

"He wants two cops to come after him. I think he is hiding at Loew's Kings Theater where his last concert was held. It's abandoned again. He had only used it for his show but he might still be hiding there since no one really goes there anymore. His words also indicate he has abducted two people he intends to sacrifice."

"We can't just do what he said," Hudson remarked, "If two cops go in there, they'll need back up. If he wants a showdown, we'll give him a showdown."

ELEVEN

It was getting dark. To avoid any media attention, which Siegfried was sure to garner, the cops under Chief Barry Hiller's orders waited until twilight, when most people were coming home from work and ending their day, to show up at the King's Theater.

A sense of danger and gloom was in the air, and as if Siegfried had masterminded it himself, a thick fog and mist enveloped the whole of Flatbush, Brooklyn, surrounding the theater. Even its deteriorating façade looked eerie and frightening in the mist. Everything looked like something straight out of a horror film. Mason Holmes was standing next to Captain Barry Hiller and Lieutenant Isaiah Dante.

An armed force of uniform cops had come to cover Hudson and Lexa in the case of an emergency or a shoot-out. This is what Chief Hiller thought was the most likely outcome. However, there were other possibilities as well. Siegfried would most likely be armed himself, which meant that the two cops going into the theater would be risking their lives.

Despite what was already known about Siegfried, he was still an enigmatic figure with a grim and mysterious aura around him. This Anti-Christ image was of course his showy public rock star persona that had won him millions of fans. But it did seem as if Siegfried was a sadistic, dangerous and disturbed individual. Before arriving to the Kings Theater, there was no argument concerning who would go in after him. Hudson Banach and Lexa O'Neil were assigned to the mission.

They arrived, still wearing their undercover plainclothes. Mason Holmes had suggested that they go into the theater dressed as one of Siegfried's fans, in the hopes of distracting and confusing him. It was dark and perhaps Siegfried would be looking for cops in uniform wielding guns. Siegfried had not seen Hudson and Lexa the night of his last concert. Hudson and Lexa arrived in Hudson's black camaro and approached the Chief and Mason.

"Are you ready to do this?" Mason said, "Got everything ready? Your guns and mace? Communication device?"

"We're ready," Hudson said.

"Be careful and God help you."

He embraced Lexa and gave her a kiss. Then he turned to Hudson.

"Good luck to you."

"Let' go, Banach," she said to him.

* * * *

The opulent but decaying theater was like the set of Phantom of the Opera. It was not completely dark. The theater lights were dimmed, casting shadows here and there, giving everything a somber and horror movie type of feeling. Hudson and Lexa braced themselves. They had concealed their guns in holsters -- Hudson under his black leatherjacket and Lexa on a holster attached to the top of her stockings at the hem of her leather skirt.

Moving carefully in slow and measured steps, they were as quiet as they could be, knowing that if they made noise Siegfried would become aware of their presence and open fire. If he wasn't armed with a gun, he was most likely going to use some other kind of method to kill them. Their hearts beat fast and the thrilling rush of adrenaline kicked in. It was the same kind of thrill that they had always enjoyed when doing missions like these.

They knew that this would be their most dangerous assignment to date, even more so than the time they were assigned to thwart the detonation of a bomb planted by terrorists on the Empire State Building. This was in many ways more dangerous because they did not know what to expect.

They crossed the main lobby facing the entrance of the theater. They were now facing the theater rooms in which, in older times, old movies were shown and the main auditorium where vaudeville acts had been performed and where Siegfried's own show had been staged.

Statuettes of Roman goddesses looked down on them from pedestals and the candelabrum surrounding them were opaque, as were the chandeliers above them.

"I welcome you to my lair," said Siegfried's voice, amplified by powerful microphones, coming from out of the blue, "and although you can't see me, I can see you quite well. Don't do anything stupid like fire your guns."

Hudson and Lexa were speechless, their eyes darting about, trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of Siegfried. He was evidently familiar with the theater and taking advantage of the fact that they were not. He was using the acoustics he had utilized for his concert and show and hiding somewhere backstage most likely.

"I am not as cruel as you think," Siegfried continued, "the murders I committed were not all what you cops call homicide. No. They were consensual. My victims were asking for it. Some of them were so depressed and morbid type of fans that they craved death, like a lover's touch. I merely helped them achieve their dream of death."

"You're a drug-addicted maniac," Hudson replied loudly, "You're so fucked up by drugs and drunk on fame that you've gone totally nuts."

"Show yourself, give this up," Lexa said, "we are not alone. There are cops waiting outside armed and ready. If you just turn yourself in; there won't be any need for violence."

"We'll see about that. Like I said, my Master needs two sacrifices before the night is over."

"Where are these two people you kidnapped? What have you done with them? Release them, dam you," Hudson said.

"I have not abducted anyone. You've got it all wrong. The two sacrifices I was referring to in my note are you two."

TWELVE

Hudson and Lexa froze but remained strong, their eyes searching everywhere and aiming their guns in front of them. Their eyes even looked up above them. His voice, owing to the microphone and sound system, was bigger and it made him sound godly. Hudson and Lexa walked toward the theater room where he had premiered his film. Perhaps he was in there, or perhaps not, but their job was to leave no stone unturned. They walked into the theater room.

Siegfried was using the dry ice and fog machine.

The entire room was covered in a thick mist, and it was hard to distinguish their surroundings. There was a toxic gas was in the air and Hudson and Lexa began to cough.

"Damn that crazy son of a bitch, he's trying to gas us to death," Hudson remarked then he spoke up loudly addressing Siegfried, "is that what you're trying to do, huh, gas us to death like your damned Nazi father did to victims in German concentration camps?"

"I see you've been putting your pig nose where it doesn't belong, "Siegfried replied, then he screamed loudly and maniacally into the mic, "shut up! Don't you dare say another word about mein vater!"

After he was silent, the gas seemed to be have turned off but the dry ice and fog lingered. Hudson and Lexa's hearts raced. Their eyes were alert and they held their guns tight. When they walked further into the room, they heard a trap door opening. As it turned out, it was directly beneath Lexa's feet. She fell down instantly into a dark pit without screaming.

"Fuck," Hudson cursed.

His eyes fell on the pit. It didn't seem to be too deep and he heard Lexa's fall being broken by something.

"O God damn it," he heard Lexa say, and he had never heard her swear, "oh God."

"Lexie, Lexie are you alright?" Hudson shouted.

"Get me out of here. It's so dark down here. I can't see what broke my fall."

Hudson's eyes moved rapidly around the room. The fog had cleared and he was able to see the room better. His eyes fell on a long rope that had been wound up on top of a loft that was accessed by a ladder. Swiftly, he climbed up the ladder and dragged part of the long rope across the floor. He knelt by the hole that had been opened up on the floor and lowered the rope.

"Grab on to this, Lexie."

Lexa was silent. Then he heard her scream. It was the first time he had ever heard her scream.

"Jesus Christ, there are cobras and snakes down here!!"

"Grab on to the rope and I'll pull you up, hurry!"

She complied and Hudson lifted up the rope, weighed down somewhat by Lexa. Upon seeing her, he took her by the hand and pulled her onto the floor next to him. She was gasping and panting as if she had been running. She put a hand over his shoulder and smiled.

"Thanks, Hudson, this isn't the first time you've helped me out," she said to him.

"No problem, Lexie."

"My snakes may not have gotten you but my Moloch will!!!" Siegfried's booming voice said, "after them my pet!"

An animal cry pierced the air and Siegfried's pet panther leapt from a loft. The creature was furious and rabid and it began to look for Hudson and Lexa who had already begun to find their way out of the room.

Adrenaline kicked in again and they ran as hurriedly as they could.

The panther was too fast and it caught up to them. It began to attack Hudson. He jumped over his body so fiercely and swiftly, that it took Hudson by total surprise and he fell to the floor. They began to wrestle on the floor and Hudson tried to reach for his gun which had flown off his hand. Hudson did his best to keep the panther from biting him and fought him aggressively. Then the panther bit his teeth into Hudson's arm.

Lexa wasted no time. She fired her gun, aiming at the panther. The bullet shot into its flesh and it let out a roar of pain. Hudson's shirt had been ripped by the panther's strong paws.

"Are you hurt bad?"

"No, I'm alright, Lexie. He bit me once in the arm, but I'm ok. Let's get the hell out of this room."

Lexa noticed some blood beginning to drip from Hudson's arm.

They found the way out but as soon as they were back into the main lobby, they were once again facing danger.

A multitude of snakes, vipers and cobras were crawling on the floor, hissing and rattling their tails. It was a sea of venomous creatures, ready to attack the closest person.

From out of nowhere, on his mic, Siegfried laughed a wicked laugh. He fancied himself a sort of "Phantom of the Opera" and he relished in his supposed powers. He had a record playing somewhere and it was Iron Maiden's heavy metal rock anthem "Phantom of the Opera".

"This guy doesn't give up," Hudson said, "it really does seem as if the Devil is helping him out."

"I won't believe that," Lexa said, "we're going to put a stop to him. I have an idea. Let's fire at these critters and run into the main auditorium."

"Works for me."

They opened fire on the snakes. This caused a chaotic uproar and the snakes became hysterical, hissing loudly. Hudson and Banach raced across the floor, shooting their guns. They found that their plan worked out perfectly and they were standing by the door to the large auditorium.

"Having fun, cops?" Siegfried's voice said again, coming from nowhere, "I can see you two don't die easily. I was sure you'd be the perfect sacrifice. But if you refuse to die, then maybe you can join me in a SatanicWedding. I'm going to marry my favorite groupie, who alas, has crossed over to the Land of the Dead, my beautiful and beloved Fraulein Christine."

The doors to the main auditorium burst open. As if a concert was in full swing, Hudson and Lexa heard rock music playing. They figured it must have been coming from an long playing record. It was Billy Idol's hit song, "White Wedding". Not long ago, Hudson had seen the music video on MTV. The song was about a Gothic wedding in which the groom broke off the knuckles of his bride by thrusting the barbed-wire ring into her finger hard.

"Come on, it's a nice day for a White Wedding....it's a nice day to start again"......

Siegfried was giving his final show.

Hudson and Lexa, holding their guns before them, walked into the auditorium, running across the aisle and heading for the stage. Siegfried was on the stage, dressed in his Devil get-up, this time with two red demon wings on his back, and he was before an altar with the corpse of the dead groupie dressed in a flowing white wedding gown As soon as he saw Hudson and Lexa he hurled small daggers at them.

"This guy is the craziest son of a bitch I've ever seen," Hudson said, dodging the daggers.

Lexa hid behind some of the seats and began to fire her gun. Siegfried laughed an insane laugh and pulled a chord on the stage. From the ceiling came a barrage of Persian swords. Hudson and Lexa got of harm's way while still trying to dodge the small daggers he was throwing at them forcefully.

"Die!" he shouted, "why don't you just die!"

He pulled another chord. The animatronic Red Dragon from his rock opera fell down from a loft, with its mouth open and breathing fire. Siegfried had hoped the thing would fall over Hudson and Lexa or burn them with the fire, but instead it fell over the dead body of Christine. It burned her wedding dress and body very quickly.
"NO!!" Siegfried cried out, "Christine! Christine!"

Hudson and Lexa got on the stage.

His eyes were nearly red with rage and his face had acquired a red hue. He looked as satanic as could be under the glow of the red lights above the stage.

"Show's over," Hudson said to him, aiming his gun at him, "hands in the air."

"I'm not giving up yet," Siegfried cried out, "Stirb! Stirb!"

A faux chandelier, used on the set of his Faust rock opera, came crashing down when he snapped his finger. It was also burning, as if the candles of the chandelier had caused the fire itself. It was meant to fall on Hudson and Lexa but they took cover by leaping out of its path. A small fire had erupted on the stage, but it didn't seem to be consuming Siegfried though it was burning the drapes, curtains, wires and chords.

Siegfried laughed.

A Medieval ear dagger flew into his hand from mid-air. This surprised Hudson and Lexa but did not scare them. It was obviousthe crazed rock star had acquired black magic powers in his years studying Satanism. The dagger was black and silver and glowing with an eerie red light.

He snapped his fingers and a German Medieval weapon, the Grobes Messer, appeared on his other hand. The large sword had been recently sharpened. He proceeded to attack Hudson with the German sword and he hurled the dagger at Lexa.

Lexa dodged the dagger which penetrated the wooden stage floor. Siegfried brandished his sword and tried to strike Hudson who was dodging his aim left and right. Finally Hudson shot the sword off his hand and then took Siegfried in an arm lock. He thrust Siegfried against a wall and put the cuffs on him.

"You are under arrest for homicide," Hudson said, "you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. Looks like it's curtains down for you punk."

THIRTEEN

Police Headquarters, Manhattan, 12 noon

Hudson was staring at Mason and Lexa from afar.

They were kissing and embracing each other as they exited the station. They had been in Chief Barry Hiller's office. Hudson turned his face away from them with a degree of pain. He headed for the Chief's office. He knocked on the door.

"Chief, it's me, Banach," he said, "can I come in and talk to you for a sec?"

"Come in, Banach," Chief Hiller said to him.

He was smoking a cigar and the windows blinds had been drawn shut. Hudson couldn't believe his eyes. A grin appeared over his lips.

"Why, Chief, I'm surprised at you," Hudson said, jokingly, "you never smoke. You forbid the rest of us to smoke and look what you're doing. You ought to be ashamed."

"Hey, you only live once," he said.

They shared a laugh. Hudson always felt good talking to the Chief. He enjoyed his presence. He wondered just how much of this owed to the fact his father had been dead since he was a teen and he had always wanted to seek a father figure unconsciously. It was the same way with Professor Goldstein. The Chief offered Hudson a smoke but he refused. He puffed away on his cigarette and looked at Hudson silently.

"Quite a sensational case that last one, wasn't it?" he said, "Is it true that psychopath released a panther to attack you?"

"I've still got the scar to prove it. It's right here on my shoulder."

He rolled up his white dress shirt sleeve to show the Chief the wound. The Chief grinned.

"No guy on the force has as many interesting stories about their wounds as you do, Banach."

"Yeah. Ain't that the truth," Hudson said with a chuckle.

"So what do you want, Banach? I thought after I had you working Vice, you'd be very content. What is it this time, you want to be a hot-shot detective like Mason?"

"No, no it's nothing like that. I wanted to ask you about getting some time off. I need a vacation. I was thinking I could visit my Uncle Vitto and his wife Nancy down in Miami. I haven't been to Florida in a long time."

"I'm not surprised you ask. Seems like every cop has been asking for a vacation today. Mason and Lexa were just here --"

"Yeah I saw them leaving."

"They're getting some time off, too. They're both going on a get-away to the Poconos. Those two make a lovely couple don't you think?"

Hudson was silent.

"Alright, Banach. You can go to Miami -- next week."

"What?"

"Unfortunately something's come up in Chinatown and we need you really bad. If you just stay here with us until we can do this thing, I'll let you have a vacation after you're done."

"Oh brother, I figured. Well, count me in. What's going on in Chinatown?"

"Get some rest, you look exhausted. I'll fill you in on the details when you come into work tomorrow."

Hudson nodded and walked out of the Chief's office.

To Be Continued...

*

On The Next Episode of Vice Cop, Hudson gets a Chinese mail-order bride and discovers the dangerous Mafia underground world of a secret Chinese society operating in Chinatown. It's not long before he finds himself being pursued by warrior-type mobsters who want him dead. Lots more action adventure await on the next episode of Vice Cop!!
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