Track Down

Mr. Kemson is also on his feet with a hostile stare at Rev Gbenga. “What’s your stake in this business?”
“Which business—your sham marriage or what?”
“You know what I mean, Rev Gbenga.”
Rev Gbenga points at the red flag. “My business, as the Lord's anointed, is to save the souls for whom that blood was shed; I do exactly that in the power of the name and blood of Jesus.”
“Look, Rev Gbenga, you got away with the mess in the hospital; got away with the matron, Miss Sola; got away with Risi; and got away with Mr. Johnson. Not this one! No again!” His Hitler mustache stands erect.
“Mr. Williams,” Rev Gbenga roars, sneering at his threat, “Lord Capo of the Cult of the Vampires, you have operated in the darkness all along. Today, you have stepped into the presence of the light of the world; and he has stripped you of your cover. All the devilish red, all the masquerading has come to light.” He chokes with laughter, eyes on Mr. Williams, a firm gaze. “Your red is filthy.” He points at the red flag again, “That one is the pure blood of the Lamb of God, the Lord Jesus Christ.”
Mr. Williams’ teeth clench firmly, grinding loudly; the entire facial muscles twitch with rage. A lion pulled by the tail, he starts to breath heavily, ready to leap on his foe. His eye-balls gradually turn red and roll as he stares down Rev Gbenga.
Rev Gbenga’s voice rises again, hash and wild. “At your old dirty trick again? There is no power from the waters; there is no power in those demonic eyes. All power belongs to Jesus Christ”
Mr. Williams’ red eyes now turn marine green, sparkling with emerald brilliance. He is truly desperate. His twitching stops abruptly while he stands dumb and lifeless like a dummy. Back into the waters, he sees the Queen of the Vampires on a huge dark horse. She is wielding a long sword that hangs loose in her hand, frantic and panting from fear and exhaustion, unable to contain the heat of battle.  Her horse neighs restlessly. All her forces are in disarray, dodging the fire that jets out of Rev Gbenga’s mouth and the arrows that fly from the host of fighting men with him. She manages to point the sword at a wall marked ‘Warm-up Chamber’. There is a screeching sound; a large false door slides aside, revealing a giant broiler, almost the size of a soccer field under a huge dome. It is white-hot, which lights the dome with its glow. A waft of scalding white heat hits Mr. Williams full blasts. Human beings are laid on the grille in rows, closed packed. His eyes bulge on seeing the former Lord Capo that disappeared over twenty years earlier. As he turns and groans in pain, the former Lord Capo manages to cast a piteous look at Mr. Williams as if pleading for a drop of water. The Queen of the Vampires turns slowly and stiffly in Mr. Williams’ direction, eyes closed. With her sword, she weakly points into the domed chamber: That traitor or you and Martha; chose.
Mr. Williams is seeing the Warm-up Chamber for the first time. It has been mentioned in whispers several times, but like a fairy tale. The split second draft of white heat that came out of the chamber seared his well-trimmed Hitler’s mustache and goatee, and turned the exposed parts of his body dark, the skin almost peeling off. For the first time, Mr. Williams is afraid, at least from what he saw of his former boss—the agony on his face. He swears, shaking his head, “Rev Gbenga must occupy a spot in this chamber; not me!”
Rev Gbenga hears a voice, “Press on! Press on! The Cross! The Cross! The harlot is defeated. The pride of Mr. Williams’ power is broken …” He shouts loudly, “Oni was set free some two thousand years ago. The cross and the blood did it all. Ask your Queen about the battle, about the battle of the Cross. Ask her. Ask that whore.” He strides to the flag, pulls it off its stand, and raises it, and prances around, flapping it jubilantly in front of Mr. Williams, who now turns away, convulsing, and growling like wild dogs that fight over a game. His eyes have turned red again. “I will be back! I will be back!” He flutters to the door and back to his seat, picks up his briefcase. But he keeps his face firmly away from the flapping flag as he backs hurriedly towards the door.
Martha has secured her purse with the cash gift under her armpit. Away from Mr. Williams’ escape path, she looks angrily at him. “I warned you! You can’t track down DeBoss.”
At this point, Mr. Williams is almost at the door. He returns a stern look at Sis Martha, “You failed; you must pay for this.”
“Martha! You, Martha!” Rev Gbenga screams.
Martha stiffens up her neck, face straight; and puts on her dark goggles again, and then a dark smile. She walks out of the office.