by Siegel, Alex
Marina noticed a surveillance camera positioned under the leaves of a tree. There were probably lots of cameras around, not just in the park but on the surrounding buildings. Of course, the tourists had probably taken a million pictures, too. Collecting all that video and all those photographs was too laborious a job for her team. She decided to let the FBI handle it.
"Eye-witness testimony is probably not going to be helpful," she said. "The tourists were too busy staring at the sky to notice what was actually going on. Distraction is an essential part of any stage illusion."
Harp raised his eyebrows. "You think the angels weren't real?"
"Let's just say I'm an expert on the topic of supernatural phenomenon, and my gut is telling me they are a product of man, not God. I recommend you immediately collect every picture from every tourist. Grab surveillance recordings too. Try to find out what was happening before the angels appeared. Look for the man behind the curtain."
"That's a good idea. What are you going to do?"
"Don't worry about me." Marina winked.
She was nervous about getting the FBI so involved in the case, but they were already up to their necks in it. The investigation couldn't possibly be less covert. She was merely giving the authorities a helpful nudge. She planned to wait for their report and act on the results before they did.
Somebody called for Harp, and he hurried off.
Marina looked up at the many tall buildings around Union Square. Some were as high as thirty stories and had clear views of the entire park. She remembered Jockel talking about needing a source of light, and then she remembered the parking structure back at Pier 39. The second batch of angels had also been near tall buildings.
She walked over to one of the FBI cars. The trunk was open, and there was some equipment inside. After a bit of digging, she found a pair of binoculars. She examined the tops of the surrounding buildings.
She quickly spotted a few men on the roof of a tall hotel. They were wearing brown clothes with a subtle camouflage pattern. They were doing something up there and moving very quickly.
Marina took off at a full sprint. The hotel was only a city block away, but getting to the roof would take time, and she had to arrive before the men left.
The crowd kept getting in her way. She dived between bodies, and when there wasn't room, she shoved people aside.
She finally arrived at the hotel. Her heart was pounding, but she wasn't out of breath. She ran into the lobby and headed for a glass elevator. It was faster than taking the stairs. She punched the button for the 32nd floor and waited impatiently for the elevator to go up. She was so anxious, she hopped from foot to foot.
The doors opened, and she stepped out into a foyer. She looked around for a way to get to the roof, but none was immediately apparent. She ran off in a random direction, hoping to get lucky.
She passed through lounges, dining rooms, and meeting halls. She eventually spotted a sign for a stairway and sprinted towards it. She was gratified to see the stairs went up as well as down, and she climbed.
At the top, there was a door leading to the roof, but it was locked. She took out a set of lock picks and got to work. Sweaty hands and adrenalin added difficulty to the task, but she was an expert and had practiced picking locks under adverse conditions. A minute later, the door was open.
Marina drew a gun and silently walked onto the roof. It was sunny outside. A cool breeze chilled her sweaty skin and made her shudder.
She crept to the location where she had seen the men, but as she had feared, nobody was there now. At first glance, she didn't see any evidence either. The gravel roof was empty.
She sighed with disappointment and approached for a closer look. She discovered some cut plastic ties and bits of discarded electrical tape. Somebody had been working up here, but she doubted she could collect even a single fingerprint.
Marina looked over the edge of the roof. She had a perfect view of the air above Union Square while also being high enough that people on the ground would probably not see her. Good location for a sniper, she thought.
She didn't see any surveillance cameras on the roof, but there were plenty inside the hotel. One of them might've caught the enemy coming or going. She was looking for men in brown clothes carrying equipment.
She hurried back down until she reached the lobby. It was a gorgeous space with green marble pillars. Crystal globe chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Mirrors made the large room seem even larger, and a second level had a balcony.
Marina asked around until she found the man in charge of security. He was big and bald. A black suit, a black tie, and a white shirt were appropriate attire for a funeral.
"Can I help you?" he said.
She took out a wallet and found a FBI badge among her collection of identification. She pulled it out for him. "Leandra Bolt, FBI. Angels were seen in Union Square just a little while ago."
"I know. Everybody is talking about it."
"I need to look at your recent surveillance footage."
"Why?" the man said. "The hotel has nothing to do with that."
"We're just being thorough. Would you mind showing me to your security control room?"
"I suppose so."
He led her into the office section of the hotel where the public never went. They passed through white, brightly lit hallways and arrived at a small room in back. Two guards in black were sitting at standard surveillance control consoles.
Marina flashed her FBI badge again. "Everybody out. This is a federal investigation."
The guards looked at her with expressions of confusion.
"Out!" she yelled. "Or I'll have you arrested. I don't have time to screw around."
The guards cleared out of the room. She closed the door.
Marina sat at the controls and went to work. The system was simple enough that it didn't take long to figure out. She flipped through recordings, searching for the mysterious men in brown.
She had a surprisingly difficult time. Either the enemy had worn disguises, or they had known how to avoid the cameras.
She finally spotted them in a parking garage beneath the hotel. A big group of men were loading bulky metal containers into lime-green delivery trucks. The men were built like soldiers and moved with professional efficiency.
The door of the security control room opened.
"Hey!" Marina said. "I told you to stay out!"
Ipo and Yang walked in. They had obviously used the locator app in their phones to track her down. They were wearing generic business suits which worked for a variety of cover stories.
"Does that include us, ma'am?" Ipo said.
She smiled. "No. Of course, not. Take a look at this." She showed him the surveillance video. "I saw these guys on the roof of the hotel earlier. I think they're responsible for the angels."
He leaned in. "Hmm. You don't see a lot of trucks that color. We should look for them in the recordings from the previous incidents."
"Good idea."
Marina took out her phone and called Min Ho back at headquarters.
"Ma'am?" he said.
She described the trucks to him and read a few license plates. He looked them up on his computer.
"They aren't registered at the DMV," he said. "The plates are fakes."
"I'm not too surprised. I want you and Jia to look at the earlier recordings and see if you can find the same kind of trucks."
"Yes, ma'am."
Marina hung up. She used the surveillance controls to print a copy of the video onto a DVD. Then she, Ipo, and Yang left the hotel.
People and cars jammed the street, and everybody was pushing towards Union Square. Marina had wanted to go back there to see if the FBI had found anything, but now she reconsidered. She hated crowds. She decided to call Joshua Harp later when the situation was less crazy.
"Let's go home," she said. "Where did you park?"
"Moscone Center," Ipo said.
"That far? At least it's a nice day for a walk."
/> Chapter Six
Hanley and Katie were walking along Pacific Avenue in Santa Cruz. It was a wide, beautiful street with trees on both sides. There was a mixture of stores catering to both tourists and locals. One sold gifts made from artisan glass. An Indian restaurant that advertised vegetarian food was next door. A thrift store was next to that.
The people were dressed sloppily even by California standards. Santa Cruz was known for its free-spirited attitude. All the roads came together at odd angles as if creating a proper grid had been too conformist. It was a last bastion of a hippie culture that had originated before Hanley was born. Artists and surfers thrived there. The weather was nice year-round, varying from pleasantly cool to pleasantly warm, and many citizens lived on the streets.
Hanley had asked around, and some of the locals had seen a man matching Brian Kelly's description. He was something of a local legend, although nobody knew his real name. They just called him the "Angel Guy." He sold figurines for cash on the street.
Hanley spotted him up ahead. Kelly was sitting on the sidewalk with only a scrap of rug for padding. He was grimy from head to toe. He had a weathered, sunken face even though he wasn't that old and still had plenty of color in his tangled hair. He had obviously lived a hard life.
Hanley walked up to him. Kelly had rows of wooden figurines for sale, and each was unique. They portrayed angels in various poses. Hanley could tell they were hand-carved, and meticulous detail showed Kelly had a passion for his work. Some of the figurines were genuinely beautiful. The prices were absurdly low though, and Hanley wondered how Kelly could survive on such a meager income.
"Brian Kelly?" Hanley said.
Kelly looked up. "Huh? Are you tax collectors?"
"No." Katie knelt down and gave him a sweet smile. "We just want to talk to you about your book."
She picked up one of the figurines and took a close look. To Hanley, it seemed much like the others, but her expression showed interest.
"Book?" Kelly furrowed his brow.
"Symbology of the Divine."
His eyes lit up. "You know about it?"
"It has become an overnight sensation," she said. "Let's get off the street. Would you like a hot meal? We'll pay."
"Sure."
Kelly gathered up his figurines. He rolled them in individual pieces of thick cloth and placed them lovingly in a cracked, plastic suitcase. Hanley could smell his body odor from several feet away.
"You have a favorite place to eat?" Hanley said.
"Follow me."
Kelly shuffled his feet as he led Hanley and Katie down the street. They made a few turns and eventually came to a little restaurant called "Love the Earth Café." A menu was posted on the window, and Hanley saw all the dishes were vegetarian. All the "meat" and milk came from coconuts instead of animals. The menu bragged about a sacred relationship with Mother Nature and open lines of spiritual communication. Hanley sighed, expecting the food to taste like cardboard.
The three of them entered the restaurant. The interior was spacious, white, and brightly lit. Diners sat on stools at long, shared tables which Hanley didn't like much. He wasn't a fan of watching strangers eat.
They found a spot in a back corner with as much privacy as they could get. Hanley and Katie sat with their backs to the wall and a good view of the doors.
A waitress came over. She was wearing a loose brown dress that showed some cleavage. Hanley could see her legs needed to be shaved, and she wasn't wearing a bra.
"Angel Guy!" she said with a smile. She didn't seem bothered by his shoddy appearance.
Kelly smiled back at her, and he was missing a few teeth. "I'm eating right today. My friends are paying. Get me a big glass of red wine and an enchilada plate. Make it a double."
"Sure thing. What can I get you?" The waitress gave menus to Hanley and Katie.
Hanley frowned at his choices. "I guess I'll take the BLT. The bacon is made from coconut?"
"With maple syrup."
"Sounds delicious." He made a sour face.
"I'll go with the mixed greens salad," Katie said.
The waitress took the menus back and left.
Hanley turned to Kelly. "Let's get down to business. We looked at your book."
"Really?" Kelly said eagerly. "I thought it was out of print."
"We got our hands on a used copy."
"Did you like it?"
"That's not really the point," Hanley said. "Do you know what's been going on in San Francisco?"
"No."
"It's a big story."
"I sleep in a cardboard box," Kelly said. "I eat breakfast out of dumpsters. I'm not really up on current events."
"Then let's save that topic until later. What inspired you to write the book? Do you remember a specific event?"
"I've always been fascinated by angels and mathematics. I knew there had to be a link. The breakthrough came when I came across a presentation by Jenkins. He showed how the letters of the first chapter of Genesis can be arranged in a pyramid. I'm talking about the original Hebrew version, of course. The outline forms a triangle of 18 letters, a number often associated with good fortune. If you turn all the letters into numbers and sum them according to the 'Gematria' process, you get 2701. What's particularly interesting is the frequency of 37 as a factor..."
Hanley held up his hands. "Stop. I don't need a lecture. Tell me about something that actually happened in your life. Where did it all start?"
Kelly squirmed in his chair and had a guilty expression.
"Was there a bright light?" Hanley said. "Did you see a glowing ball or hear a voice? Did the ideas just appear in your mind?"
"Well, I..." Kelly cleared his throat. "I don't want to talk about that. Did you know if you perform a quantitative analysis of the scriptural texts, you find a sevenfold structure? The symmetry is in the sense that there are sections which have identical lengths if counted in verses..."
"That's very interesting but not important right now. Tell me about the beginning. What happened to you?"
Kelly frowned and looked down. "After I eat."
Hanley decided not to press the issue in a public place.
The food eventually arrived. He bit into his sandwich expecting the worst, but it actually wasn't bad. The "bacon" didn't taste anything like real bacon, but the lettuce and tomatoes were exceptionally fresh.
Kelly received a plate with an impressive heap of enchiladas on it. They were stuffed with sunflower seed pate, but he gobbled them down just the same. He was certainly hungry. He drank two glasses of wine and two glasses of water.
Finally, the meal was done and paid for. The group left the restaurant. Kelly dragged his suitcase as they walked down the sidewalk in a random direction.
"Are you ready to talk now?" Hanley said.
Kelly had the same guilty, uncomfortable expression as before. "Did you know the number of books in the Bible with anonymous authors is 22 or 2 times 11? The number of books with specified authors is 44 or 4 times 11. Interesting coincidence, isn't it?"
Hanley sighed. "You're evading the question."
Katie took him aside and whispered, "Something is wrong with his mind. I don't think he's capable of answering honestly."
"You may be right. Hold on." He took out his phone, stepped away, and called Marina.
"Yes?" the commander said.
"I found Brian Kelly, ma'am, but he's not being helpful. He seems mentally ill. I could interrogate him, but using Olivia might be quicker and more effective."
She hesitated. "OK, but we have to be smart. Involving Olivia is risky. Make damn sure nobody follows you or is tracking Kelly. Meet us at the farm in Pescadero."
"Yes, ma'am. Bye." Hanley put away his phone and returned to Kelly. "Come with us. You're going for a ride."
"I am?" Kelly raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah. Somebody wants to buy all your little angels for five thousand bucks."
His eyes widened.
They quickly walked to the car
. Hanley and Katie had come in a blue sedan with a few artfully placed dings and scratches. It looked cheap, but there was a big engine under the hood and Kevlar inserts in the doors.
Hanley opened the hood and searched through the gray duffle bags full of supplies. He eventually found a scanner designed to detect radio transmitters.
"Hold still," he said to Kelly.
Hanley waved a wand up and down Kelly's body.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking your aura for defects," Hanley said. "This thing fixes them."
"Oh. Thanks."
"No problem."
The scanner found nothing, so Hanley put it away. He gave Kelly a pat down for good measure even though touching his filthy clothes was revolting. Hanley only found a knife in Kelly's pocket.
"What's this for?"
"Carving," Kelly said. "You're acting very paranoid."
"The buyer is a wealthy man. He's careful about who he meets."
Everybody got in the car. Katie sat in back with Kelly and kept a close eye on him.
Hanley drove around in circles several times until he was sure nobody was tailing him. He used tricks such as making unexpected turns and reversing direction in blind locations. Finally, he headed towards Pescadero.
* * *
Marina drove up Pescadero Creek Road and turned left at an intersection that didn't have a stop sign in either direction. She continued along a side road barely wide enough for two cars to pass. Pescadero was a village on the west side of the Santa Cruz Mountains. It was close enough to the Pacific Ocean that salt spray made the ground highly saline. Nonetheless, a few small farms managed to survive, but she didn't envy the life of those farmers.
Marina drove towards one farm in particular. She had purchased it a couple of months ago, and it was isolated even by the standards of Pescadero. It only had rolling hills and fields of grass for neighbors. The Santa Cruz Mountains were dark masses in the distance. Clumps of stunted trees broke up the otherwise open landscape.
She turned into a private driveway, and her car thudded over bumps in the dirt. The weeds were getting out of control. She really needed to pay somebody to spruce up the farm a little. She wanted the place to look decrepit but not completely abandoned.