by Siegel, Alex
"I'm going out with Hanley and Katie," she said. "You'll have to hold down the fort on your own for a while."
"Where are you going, ma'am?" Yang said.
"To find an expert on holograms."
"You don't think the angels were real?"
"Not a chance," she said. "I need to remind you of the rules of engagement in case this turns out to be a real mission."
"But I was here when we saved Olivia."
"That mission was atypical. Our first priority is determining the cause of the phenomenon. In particular, we need to know if an enemy of God is responsible. If not, we'll just walk away."
"What if a crime is being committed, ma'am?" Yang said.
"Fighting crime isn't our job. We will covertly investigate and collect evidence until we find the true cause. If it turns out to be a real mission, we will erase the stain on Creation. Until then, try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and be inconspicuous."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good." Marina patted him on the shoulder. "We'll see you later."
She left the booth.
* * *
Marina walked into a theater in San Jose. The stage was normally used for plays and concerts, but tonight it would host a "holographic fashion show."
It was a beautiful theater with over a thousand seats. Big chandeliers cast light with a golden hue. Red velvet covered the thickly padded chairs. Two balcony levels went almost up to the high, vaulted ceiling. Sheets of black wood covered an orchestra pit in front of the stage.
A man in a plaid shirt was pushing around giant mirrors on the stage. They were much taller than him and required elaborate supports. Some were tilted down. He was using a pen laser and a tape measure to place the mirrors very precisely.
"Mr. Jockel?" Marina said.
The man looked over at her. "Yes. Who are you?" He spoke with a German accent.
"We're with the FBI."
She nodded to Hanley and Katie who were trailing behind her. The three of them wore standard blue business suits appropriate for federal agents.
Jockel faced her. "Did I do something wrong?" He furrowed his brow.
"Not as far as I know. We actually came to borrow your expertise. There was an incident this morning. A large number of people saw angels flying near Pier 39."
"Yes. I saw the pictures. It was an impressive effect."
"So you don't think it was real?" Marina said.
He smirked. "Of course not."
She and her two legionnaires walked onto the stage. Complex devices sat on shelves just offstage in the wings. They looked like high-tech movie projectors, and some had attached cooling systems.
"You have interesting toys," Marina said.
Jockel walked over to one of the projectors and turned it on. An image of a beautiful woman in a white gown appeared in one of the mirrors. Her flowing blonde hair was so detailed, Marina could see every strand. She twisted her body, and her dress swirled around her legs. The three-dimensional effect was astonishingly good.
"That's amazing," Marina said.
"Thank you," Jockel replied. "Some of the technology was invented by me."
She smiled. "Then I'm talking to exactly the right person. About these angels, how do you think they were made?"
"I wasn't there, so it's hard to say, but there are some basic rules that all visual effects must obey. First, there must be a source of light. It doesn't just appear in space. Something has to make it."
"The angels appeared to be on fire."
"Fire is an easy effect," he said. "You just turn up the glare. The second rule is there must be a screen or a stage."
"The angels were flying."
"They were flying through something other than plain air. I use mirrors for my illusions."
He tapped on the mirror with the image of the woman. The illusion vibrated as if seen through rippling water.
Hanley stepped forward. "We think a gas might've been involved."
"Yes." Jockel looked at him. "The right chemical might create or refract light under the right conditions."
"Do you know of any such chemical?"
"I'm not a chemist. My degree is in physics, but somehow, I found myself in the fashion industry. I have to say looking at models is more pleasant than looking at physicists." Jockel smirked.
"If you were in charge of this investigation," Marina said, "how would you proceed?"
He faced her. "I'm sure these angels will appear again somewhere else. Such a magnificent performance demands an encore. I'd collect as much physical evidence as possible. If, as you say, a gas was used, there will be residual traces. And it took more than just gas. You need sophisticated technology to form the image. It takes a considerable amount of science to make magic." He pointed to his stacks of equipment. "I'm curious how it was done. I thought I knew every trick in this business."
We need Corrie for this investigation, Marina thought.
Her phone rang. The caller ID showed Min Ho's code number, and she stepped away for privacy.
She put the phone to her ear. "Yes?"
"More angels, ma'am," the hacker said. "Intersection of Columbus and Broadway in San Francisco."
Marina knew that location. It was a big, very busy intersection at the edge of Chinatown.
"Damn it. By the time we get there, it will be a mob scene. All the evidence will be contaminated or destroyed." She sighed. "I suppose we have to go anyway. Bye." She hung up and looked at Hanley and Katie. "Come on. The encore is happening now."
Marina left the stage and headed towards the door of the theater. Her legionnaires followed close behind.
* * *
Marina was already gritting her teeth with frustration, and she hadn't even reached the intersection yet. She, Katie, and Hanley were on foot. As she had feared, a thick, obnoxious crowd was in her way, and she had to press to make forward progress.
The Columbus and Broadway intersection was near the northeast corner of San Francisco. It was a funky part of town with Chinatown to the south and the remnants of Little Italy to the north. Many great restaurants were located in this neighborhood, and it had a vibrant nightlife. All the cultures of the city intersected here.
Marina was headed east on Columbus where the "adult entertainment" establishments were located. Storefronts advertised X-rated magazines, DVD's, and video arcades. Liquor and naked girls were available in several locations. One travel agency promised erotic tours of foreign lands. There was even a cigar store, an anomaly in California where smoking was practically a crime. The famous and historic Condor Gentleman's Club was on the corner.
Marina didn't care about any of that now. She was just trying to reach the scene of the crime without committing crimes of her own along the way. Patience and politeness weren't her strong points.
She tried to distract herself by examining the crowd. She could tell the difference between tourists and locals by their clothes. The tourists were dressed either far too lightly or too warmly, and the natives were more stylish. Police officers were trying to establish some kind of order, but the best they could do was keep most of the foot traffic out of the street. Not that it mattered. The cars were moving at exactly zero miles-per-hour.
"Get out of my way!" Marina yelled.
She forced herself to settle down. She looked back at Hanley and Katie, and they appeared embarrassed on her behalf.
The team finally reached the intersection, but a dense mass of humanity made further progress impossible. It seemed all of San Francisco wanted to be where the angels had flown.
Symbols had been burned into the wall of an apartment building. The black circles and squares formed interesting patterns that begged interpretation. Marina had seen the divine mathematical writing used by the twins in Chicago when communicating with God, and this script was nothing like it.
A shrine of sorts had been constructed on the sidewalk below the symbols. Men and women were lighting candles, rubbing beads, flipping through books, and praying very loudly. S
ome were screeching as they tried to make their voices heard above the others. Marina wondered what they were hoping to accomplish. God could hear a whisper as easily as a yell.
"I don't think we're going to collect much evidence here," Marina said.
"Unfortunately, I have to agree, ma'am," Hanley said. "This is a mess. Hopefully, the authorities managed to find something useful before the mob arrived."
"We'll read the police reports when we get back to headquarters. What's interesting is how the person responsible is clearly going for maximum publicity, but the message is mysterious. There is just the writing."
"The mystery adds to the excitement, ma'am," Katie said. "It's a puzzle that everybody wants to solve."
Marina nodded. "That's true, and I have a feeling we won't like the solution."
Some stores had surveillance cameras pointing along the sidewalk, and one in particular had a good shot of the intersection. That camera was above a place called "The Speakeasy."
"Follow me," Marina said.
She pushed through the crowd to reach the front door. A big, muscular man in a black T-shirt was standing by the door, and he gave her a long look before allowing her to enter.
She walked into a strip club. A long, narrow stage ran the length of the room, and it had several shiny poles. Chairs were arranged around the stage and along the wall. The dim red lighting provided plenty of shadows for shy patrons. Colored spotlights bouncing off a spinning mirror ball irritated Marina. Only the stage was brightly lit.
The setting was familiar to her. She had performed as an erotic dancer on a few occasions during assignments. Men liked to brag about their accomplishments to half-naked girls, often saying things they deeply regretted later. Marina was very good at making men feel regret.
No girl was dancing at the moment, and the club was quiet. Only a few men were sitting around with drinks in front of them. It was still early in the day.
Marina asked around until she found the manager. He was a white man with a big beer gut. His blond hair was so long it touched his belly. He was wearing a jean jacket and black leather pants.
"Can I help you?" he said. His breath smelled like cigarettes.
"Yes." She smiled. "We're with the FBI." She took out her wallet and flashed a badge.
He stiffened. "I run a clean operation here. No sex or drugs on the premises. The girls pay their taxes."
"I'm sure. We're actually interested in your surveillance system. I noticed a camera outside with a good view of the street. We'd like to see the recording. We're particularly interested in the time around when the angels appeared."
"Oh." He relaxed. "I guess that's OK. Come on."
The manager led the team to a small room behind the bar. It was an office which also served as a security control room. Loose paperwork covered a battered metal desk. There were also some pornographic magazines and a half-full bottle of whiskey. The security system was on a shelf on the other side of the room. Marina immediately grasped the simple controls.
"You can leave us now," she said to the manager.
"But..."
"I told you to leave."
He furrowed his brow. "Don't you need like a search warrant or something?"
"We're special agents with the FBI, and you're a scummy strip club owner. You really want to make an issue of this?"
He frowned and left the office. The door slammed behind him.
"When I was a real FBI agent," Hanley said, "I never stepped on people's constitutional rights like that."
"How nice for you," Marina said.
She played with the controls of the surveillance system until she found the right recording. The video showed an off-angle shot of the Columbus and Broadway intersection. Clumps of people were standing on the corners, waiting to cross the street. Long lines of cars were stopped at the traffic light. It was a typical busy day in San Francisco.
The pedestrians suddenly appeared dizzy. Some stumbled, and one actually fell to the pavement.
"Look at that!" Hanley said.
A white light illuminated the entire scene. The angels weren't in the camera frame, but they were clearly over the intersection. All the traffic immediately stopped, and everybody looked up. One car crashed into the back of another.
Marina continued to watch the video, but not much else of interest happened. The angels flew for about two and a half minutes. After the light faded away, the citizens continued to stare at the sky.
She watched the video several times without gaining any more insight. If there was some trick, she wasn't seeing it, or the camera hadn't captured it.
"Are you seeing any clues?"
"No, ma'am," Hanley said.
Katie shook her head.
The surveillance system had a built-in DVD writer. Marina printed a copy of the video and popped it out.
"Let's go," she said.
They left the strip club. She discovered to her horror the crowd outside had gotten even worse. She could feel her blood pressure rising, but she couldn't leave yet. She had to talk to at least one witness.
It didn't take long to find somebody holding court in front of a circle of reporters and curiosity seekers. The witness had gray hair which was dirty and tangled. He was wearing a thread-bare Army jacket and green pants. Marina could see his toes through holes in his shoes. She pushed her way to the front of the mob until she caught a whiff of his body odor.
"I felt the blessings of Heaven upon me," he said in a somber tone. "Warmth caressed my soul."
She rolled her eyes. "Could you explain the sensation in more specific terms, please?" she said.
He looked at her. "It was wonderful. What else do I need to say?"
"Did it happen suddenly or gradually?"
"It caught me by surprise. I was transported to a higher plane."
"Did the angels communicate with you?" Marina said in an impatient tone.
"Their beauty was communication enough. They showed me there is light and peace after death."
She didn't have a strong opinion about the afterlife. God had never spoken about it to her, and it probably wasn't any of her business. Strictly speaking, she didn't have much faith either. Faith was belief without proof, and she had ample proof of the Lord's existence. Every time she felt any doubt, she just needed to look at her own fingernails. She sometimes wondered what it was like to be inspired by religion. Her outlook was far more cynical.
"How do you know they were real?" Marina said.
"I saw them with my own eyes," the witness said.
"It could've been a hologram or a projection."
"No. I would've known if they were fake."
Not likely, she thought.
Hanley and Katie were standing behind Marina. She turned to her legionnaires and said, "Let's go."
The three of them walked off. It was a long way back to the car.
Chapter Three
Yang looked across the kitchen table at Olivia. The child's beauty was hypnotic. It was like staring at a real angel.
"You have to make the denominators the same before you can add the numerators," he said. "Multiply the one on the left by three. Top and bottom."
She gnawed her lip as she stared at a piece of paper in front of her. It was covered with math problems. "Why both?"
Yang turned to Jia whose beauty was almost as magnificent. He loved her with a passion he had never felt for another woman. Like him, she was a Chinese immigrant. Long, black hair framed a cute face with a turned-up nose. Her body was so slender and petit, he could carry her easily in his arms. She looked quite a bit younger than she actually was. Her smile showed off perfect, white teeth. She was wearing a yellow dress covered with pink hearts.
"So you don't change the value of the fraction," Jia said in a polite voice. "You're making both parts bigger. For example, one goes into three the same way three goes into nine. It's all about proportions."
"Oh," Olivia said.
She began to write with a pencil even though she still se
emed uncertain.
Yang and Jia had taken control of Olivia's academic education. Nobody else on the team had jumped at the job even though they were certainly qualified, but Yang didn't mind. The three of them were like a little family, and he was thoroughly enjoying the experience. For the first time in many years, he felt loved and appreciated.
He looked at Olivia's black and white eyes. They were unsettling, but they were just an indication of the powerful gift inside her. She could control the emotions of others by touching their heads. He had never seen her abuse her power, but she was just nine years-old. Children that age were expected to throw temper-tantrums, and in her case, she could cause serious harm. He was always wary around her.
Marina, Hanley, and Katie entered headquarters. They were dressed as federal agents, and the disguise looked natural on them. Only Marina's pointed black fingernails seemed out of place.
The commander walked over to Yang. She had strawberry blond hair which she kept professionally short. Freckles on her pale face gave her a mischievous appearance, and one might mistakenly think she was a fun person to hang out with. Unusual green eyes were her most striking feature. She was medium height, slim, and very athletic.
Yang would be the first to admit Marina frightened him. She wasn't just an impossibly skilled martial artist with the reflexes of a cobra, and the best knife fighter he had ever seen. She had a capacity for creative mayhem that was inhuman. She was a living weapon crafted by God to wreak havoc upon His enemies, and anybody who stood in her way was destroyed. Yang would never forget the carnage she had left behind on the Fearless Star.
Marina looked down at Olivia. "Doing math? That's good. Math is important."
"What happened, ma'am?" Yang said. "You were gone for hours."
Marina summarized the visits to the hologram expert and to the site of the second angelic appearance.
After she was done, she said, "Is Ipo still asleep?"
"I think so," Yang said. "He hasn't come back to headquarters."