As Benjamin left the apartment building and walked down the sidewalk under a canopy of scaffolding, he mulled over what he’d heard.

Janet had been fearful of revealing too much; that much was obvious. Fearful of saying East Hounds aloud, whatever that meant. She was probably paranoid.

But then again, he’d thought Jada and her friends were being paranoid.

Whatever the case, finding out what East Hounds meant could wait. He’d come away with a bigger clue. Though it could be a dead end, the markings on Samuel’s map were significant, at least to Janet.

As he walked, Benjamin pulled out the map again and looked for the nearest dot. It was in Lower Manhattan, about five miles away.

Despite Janet’s warning, he intended to go there. Chances were, the boys wouldn’t be at that one location out of the dozen marked on the map, but it was a start. And hopefully, he could find out what people Janet had been talking about.

Benjamin pulled out his phone, found a route to the address on the map, and headed for a train station ahead.

The Cathedral of the Crucifix occupied a large corner of a city block, a Gothic monument of old swallowed up in a modern world. Its weathered stone walls and twin steeples stood immoveable but worn down by time. Moss crept up its sides, almost reaching a stained-glass window on one side. A thin strip of garden between the cathedral and the sidewalk had grown into a thick tangle of weeds, whose green tendrils reached through the wrought iron fence surrounding the building. Buttresses and spires lining the cathedral were cracked and stained. Graffiti was scrawled across one of the walls. The windows were all dark, one boarded up. A clock above the recessed entranceway was frozen in time at 6:03.

Benjamin stood in front of the closed gates. According to his phone, the cathedral had closed for repairs a few years prior and never reopened.

He walked up to the iron gates. They were closed, but not locked. He pushed one open and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. A stone pathway and a short set of stairs led to the wooden doors. He made his way to the entrance and tried both doors. They were locked.

Benjamin looked around for another way in. He didn’t want to trespass, but there were two boys’ lives at stake.

Something caught his eye. One discolored brick stuck slightly out of the wall on the left of the doors. He pulled the brick, and it came out with surprising ease.

Benjamin looked inside the gap the brick had occupied. A rusty key lay at the back. He took it out.

Benjamin tried the key on one of the doors, and it unlocked with a metallic click. Pocketing the key, he gently pushed the door open. It squeaked on its hinges as it opened into the dark, cavernous maw of the cathedral.

Benjamin stepped over the threshold and pushed the door shut behind him, leaving it open a sliver. He walked deeper into the building, which was lit only by pale daylight filtered through the stained-glass windows. The floor was dirty and coated in peeled plaster and broken stone; some swaths were covered in sheets. Several walls of the cathedral were obscured by scaffolding. A clear, narrow path had been made through the debris, carpeted in dirtied canvas, which Benjamin followed into the spacious center of the church.

He walked down the main aisle, flanked by wooden pews.

He listened for any sound. The noise of the streets outside was still audible, though muffled. His own footsteps were soft and slow; he made a careful effort not to step on any debris in his path.

Benjamin reached the end of the pews and ascended a few stairs to a platform. A pulpit stood to the left, and several tables and lighting fixtures were hidden under cloth. Ahead was the curved back wall, its painted image of the heavens peeling. A massive black iron cross hung in front.

As Benjamin neared the rear of the cathedral, he heard something faint coming from his left. A voice, talking loudly, but distant. It was almost indistinguishable from the muted murmur of the street outside.

The canvas path branched to the left and right at the end of the cathedral. Benjamin took the left turn. It led down from the platform, between a row of arches, and to an old, unmarked wooden door. Yellow light shone from beneath.

Benjamin opened the door quietly. The voice, still indistinct, grew slightly louder. He stepped into a narrow, twisting stairway lit by one overhead bulb and the light from a small, grated window in the wall. The stone stairs only led down.

Down he went. The light from outside disappeared as he descended underground.

At the bottom of the staircase was another wooden door. A triangle containing three dots in a triangular formation was drawn in red on the top of the doorframe. The voice was louder, the words almost intelligible by now.

Benjamin could feel his pulse quickening. He reached for the door’s metal handle and slowly, slowly turned it. He gently pried the door open, willing its hinges not to squeak. With every inch the door opened, the voice grew clearer. It was deep, arresting, passionate, furious.

Benjamin opened the door just enough to step through.

He emerged onto a narrow balcony overlooking a large basement chamber. The basement had stone walls and broken wood flooring covered in canvas and worn carpet. Chairs were arranged in uneven rows, all facing a podium at the front. A large white banner with the symbol of the triangle and three dots in red hung on the wall behind the podium. An American flag stood in one corner, a white flag with the red triangle symbol in the other. A wooden cabinet with glass windows stood along the back wall, displaying a variety of firearms.

Benjamin stayed absolutely still. The balcony was dark; the rest of the space was lit by tall lamps and one chandelier.

The seats were filled with men; those who had no seats stood in the back. Their garments were disparate; some wore suits, others shirts or jackets. They ranged in age from older teens to midlife adults. They all wore a metallic red ring on one of their index fingers, and were focused on the man at the front of the room.

The speaker at the podium was a large bald man with a thin brown beard. He gripped the podium as he spoke, occasionally releasing one hand to gesticulate fervently, his red ring shining with the light of the chandelier. He wore a suit jacket over a white shirt and dirt-smeared jeans.

“This… this is our duty, my brothers! It is up to us. No one listens… no one hears… but we are the faithful. We are the true.” Sweat glistened on his brow. “They try to silence us, but will we be silenced?”

A roar rose from the audience.

“We did not start this fight. But we will be the ones to finish it. In the workplace, at our schools, in our homes, here in this city.” He looked from person to person. “And our enemy… our enemy is all around us. Did you hear what happened to Brother Roger last week?”

An angry murmur filled the room.

“He was killed! Killed, in cold blood, by the East Hounds!”

Cries burst forth. One man in the audience stood up and shouted, “Destroy the Hounds!”

“Yes,” the speaker said, raising his fist. “Our streets will not be safe, our homes will not be secure, our children will not be protected, until the filth of humanity is wiped clean from this city. And that starts with the East Hounds.”

Benjamin drew his phone from his pocket. He took a picture of the speaker, and several of the audience.

“We are fighting a war. A secret war, for now, but important as any other. We are already winning, but there is much more to do… much more. We must not rest until all their leaders are dead, and they scattered to the winds like the dirt they are. Right under the noses of our government, they trade drugs and weapons and money, corrupting this city with every breath they take. But we are not blind! We are the warriors who rise to slay the Hounds!”

As resounding agreement rose from the crowd, the speaker mopped his brow with a white handkerchief.

Up on the balcony, Benjamin heard something behind him.

He looked over his shoulder. Footsteps, coming down the stairs. Once the person turned around the final bend in the stairway, he would be directly in their line of sight.

He stepped farther out onto the narrow balcony and skirted the open door, moving to hide behind it.

The footsteps grew closer, reaching the bottom of the stairs, and the person stepped out onto the balcony. Benjamin pressed himself up against the wall.

The newcomer closed the door behind him. When he did, he came face-to-face with Benjamin.

The man, gray-haired and wearing sunglasses and a red vest, stared at Benjamin in shock and fear for one moment. He snapped out it, grabbed Benjamin by the arm, pulled him from the wall, and slammed him into the balcony railing.

“Hey!” the man shouted, and the speaker and his audience looked up to the balcony.

Before anyone on the lower level could come to assist, Benjamin rammed his elbow into the man’s ribs. Wrenching his arm free of the man’s grip, he turned and hit the man in the stomach. The man stumbled back with a grunt, and Benjamin shoved past him and ran into the stairwell.

He didn’t get past the second step before he was tackled from behind. Benjamin collapsed on the stone stairs, the man’s body crushing his legs. The weight released, and Benjamin scrambled to his feet, starting to run again.

The sharp, deafening crack of a gunshot stopped him in his tracks. A bullet hit the staircase wall ahead.

Benjamin slowly turned around, raising his hands.

The gray-haired man stood below him, holding a gun, his sunglasses cracked. He walked up to Benjamin and grabbed his arm, pointing the gun at his side. They walked back down together, onto the balcony, and down the wooden steps to the basement chamber. The room was eerily quiet.

“Who are you?” the bald speaker asked.

Benjamin didn’t reply.

The audience had risen from their seats and formed a semi-circle around Benjamin and the gray-haired man holding him.

“Put down the gun. Search him.”

The gray-haired man stuck the gun in his belt and aggressively patted down Benjamin, turning out his pockets and removing his jacket. He tossed Benjamin’s phone, leather notebook, wallet, keys, watch, and badge on the floor, as well as Samuel’s map, Ezra’s phone, and the napkin with East Hounds written on it.

The gray-haired man picked up the badge and placed it on the podium. The bald man glanced at it, and pointed to three young men standing near the front of the audience. “Sweep the building. There might be others.”

The men departed.

The bald man behind the podium opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, looking past Benjamin to the back of the room. The audience followed his gaze, parting to make a path from Benjamin to a doorway at the back. A crimson curtain covering the doorway was drawn aside, and a man strode through.

He was tall, in his forties, with a handsome face, brown hair, and glasses, wearing a white button-down shirt, a crimson tie, khakis, and a shiny red ring. He walked straight toward Benjamin with a slow, steady stride until he came to a stop a few feet away.

The man nodded to the speaker behind the podium to speak.

“Brother Daniel, this… this man was found observing our meeting here. He’s a detective for the NYPD.”

A smile crept across Daniel’s face. “Thank you, Brother Lee.” He looked over Benjamin. “Come, let’s talk in private.” He turned and walked toward the doorway at the back of the room, and the gray-haired man nudged Benjamin to follow. Faced with no better choice, he complied.

Benjamin went after Daniel through the curtained doorway into a smaller room. Maps and paintings were hung on the stone walls, and tall, bronze lamps stood in the four corners. Two wooden chairs sat on either side of a mahogany desk in the middle of the room. Daniel sat in the large, ornate chair, leaving the smaller one for Benjamin.

Once they were both seated, Benjamin glanced over his shoulder. Two bearded men stood on either side of the curtained doorway, wearing camouflage vests and carrying large guns.

A chocolate cake in a glass dome sat on Daniel’s left. He took off the dome and cut a slice, moved it to a paper plate, and slid it toward Benjamin.

“Eat it. It’s good.”

Benjamin didn’t move.

Daniel slid the plate back to himself, took a silver fork, and ate a bite of the cake. “Your loss.” He watched Benjamin as he ate, as if expecting some response. When he didn’t get one, he moved the partially eaten slice of cake aside and rested his arms on the desk.

“It’s awfully brave of you to come here. And there’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity.”

Benjamin gave no reaction, verbal or otherwise.

“You’ve come here to investigate us? I’m flattered. If you want to get the word out about our cause, I would appreciate that, really. Crusaders for Justice—I think that has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? But you’re not a journalist.” He chuckled. “We’ve gotten off to a rough start, haven’t we? Brother Clayton can be trigger-happy sometimes. You must forgive him.” He took another bite of the cake. “I am Leading Brother Daniel Smith.” He waited for Benjamin to reply.

When all he got was silence, Daniel clenched his fork tighter and took another bite of the chocolate cake. “Listen, listen… listen. If you want to go home tonight in one piece, you need to cooperate with me.” He opened a drawer of the desk and drew out a hunting knife. He placed the knife next to the plate of cake. “So which will it be?”

Benjamin kept his eyes on Daniel. “What do you want?”

“He speaks!” Daniel whispered, smiling. He pushed the cake toward Benjamin. “First, eat the cake. You’ll like it.”

“I need a fork.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Staring intently at Daniel, Benjamin tore off a piece of the cake and ate it. It was rich, too rich, practically dripping with the sweet taste of chocolate.

Daniel smiled. “Good, isn’t it? Now tell me. What’s your name?”

“Benjamin Adelson.”

“Why are you here? Are you trying to take us down? Because you can’t. Nothing we do here is illegal.” He laughed. “Brother Clayton’s shot was regrettable, but you weren’t harmed. Sure, sure, you could stir up a fuss about whatever little skirmish you had, but will anyone listen? No. We are simply a group of like-minded individuals who gather here to listen to speakers, eat, and share fellowship.”

“And what is your group, exactly?”

Daniel looked slightly bothered. “You mean you haven’t heard of us? Let me enlighten you. We are the Red Brotherhood. We are proud patriots, men of faith, warriors for truth and peace. We are a national coalition of brothers, with chapters in every state.”

Benjamin bit back a reply.

“Tell me. Why did you sneak in here to spy on our gathering?”

“I can’t disclose that.”

Daniel drummed his fingers on the desk. He laid a hand on the hunting knife. “No, no… I think you’ll disclose whatever I ask you to.”

“I came here because this location is connected to a case.”

“A case about the Red Brotherhood?”

“No. A case about the East Hounds,” he lied.

Daniel leaned forward. “Do we have a common enemy, then?”

Benjamin knew next to nothing about the East Hounds. But if claiming to have a common enemy could help his situation, he would go along with it.

“Yes. I came here to find out more about them. You give me some information, I’ll walk out of here and forget that little fiasco with Clayton ever happened.”

Daniel laughed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re not the one with negotiating power here. I’ll tell you what. You will walk out of here and forget what happened. You’ll tell your superiors of our kindness and generosity in assisting with your case. You’ll use the information I give you to hunt down and stop the East Hounds. Got that?”

“Fine. I need to know about two boys, Noah and Ezra Martin. You know those names?”

Daniel looked aside for a moment, and said, “Yes… yes, I do.”

That couldn’t be good. “They were kidnapped last night.”

“Kidnapped?” Daniel asked, incredulous. He suddenly laughed. “Of course. Of course.”

“What?”

“It’s fake. The kidnapping was faked. So they could esc—” He cut himself off.

“So they could what?”

“Nothing. But their kidnapping was faked, I can tell you that.”

“Why would they fake a kidnapping?”

Daniel gripped the hunting knife, his red ring glinting in the warm light of the lamps. “That’s all you need to know. Those boys are no good, either.”

“Why? Are they connected to the East Hounds?”

“What do you mean, ‘are they connected to the East Hounds?’ Of course they are. Why else would either of us care about them?”

“Right. Do you know where they might’ve gone?”

“You’ve asked enough questions.” Daniel stood up, holding the knife. “It’s time you go.”

Benjamin stood up. He’d gotten enough. Best to get away with his life than stick around for more.

One of the gun-toting men at the doorway grabbed him from behind and escorted him away from Daniel, through the curtain, and back into the larger room.

Benjamin was released, and he picked up his belongings off the floor. His phone’s screen was cracked, the marked-up map was gone, and so was most of the money in his wallet. His badge was also missing.

As he put on his jacket, he stood up and looked around for it. All he saw were grim, impassive faces. A few people in the crowd even sneered at him or whispered among themselves.

Suppressing the anger he felt, he forced himself to walk past them and up the wooden stairs to the balcony. There, he looked down at the Red Brotherhood, who stared back up at him.

Finally, he turned and entered the stairway. As he ascended from the basement of the cathedral, he found he had trouble taking a steady breath.

Benjamin emerged into the vast, empty hall of the church, and walked down the central aisle again. He could hear distant laughter and shouting from the basement chamber.

His mind reeled. This case was bigger than he’d thought. More dangerous than he’d guessed. This was no regular kidnapping. Whatever lay ahead would be worse than anticipated, but he had to finish his investigation. There were lives on the line.

But now, his life was one of them.