by Greg Ballan
The Archbishop nodded. "You would blame God, Agent Denton."
Denton's face burned with anger, a rage that could split rock. "Yes, I would. I'm pointing the finger where logic and the facts dictate it be pointed. Let God come here and tell me I'm wrong." The old man looked up. "Well!!! Am I wrong? Did you let my boy die?? Was his death part of some grand plan?" Tears rolled down Martin's cheeks. "Answer me you son of a bitch, I'm here, in your face, asking you point blank … or are you going to be silent and cowardly, hiding behind the skirts of these sheep? What kind of God lets an innocent boy die for nothing?"
Martin glared at the ceiling, his hands balled into fists, tears streaming down his face. "Just tell me why." His voice cracked. "Just tell me why you let my son be butchered like a side of beef."
Erik stepped up and pulled his friend into a hug. "It's okay Martin, we'll find out, I promise you." The detective helped his friend back into his seat and poured him a hot cup of tea from an ivory kettle. The holy men were still in shock over Martin's outburst, half expecting God to make a statement in HIS own defense.
Erik took a moment to compose himself. His mind reeled at the revelations. Good, Evil, Heaven, Hell, Angels and Demons—all real, and even more bizarre than any cleric, or layman, could ever comprehend. The forces of Light and Dark were constantly battling for worlds across the universe in a titanic game of chess with endless galaxies as their board. Even with all his incredible power, Erik felt insignificant at the thought of beings moving across galaxies fighting and warring to gain human and apparently non-human souls. He saw to his friend's wellbeing before facing the bishops. "I'm not interested in your holy war, or your prophecy, or your stolen relic at this point. I'm interested in who killed a young cleric by the name of William Denton. Your story, as fascinating as it is, will have to go on the back burner. I'll accept it as the rationale for 'Why' the relic was stolen. Your story means William and his colleagues were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and our killer decided to butcher them out of spite." Erik glanced at the Archbishop. "I assume you have a list of everyone who knew of the chapel's existence. That's your suspect pool. Somebody gave up the location and usually such a betrayal involves money or blackmail. We'll have to run financial reports and check bank transactions for everyone on that list. If you find any anomalies in the bank records, you'll have a logical place to start looking for your leak. Also have your people examine social patterns. Has anyone on that list broken routine, met with new people, or requested an extended leave of absence?"
"Are you implying that a man of God could be suspect in such heinous actions?" A bishop challenged.
Erik looked toward the lean man and nodded. "Yes, I am. It's the most logical place to start looking. If everything checks out, then look at people they're close with." Erik looked at all the men, his eyes scanning each bishop. "Secrets are only as good as those who keep them. If the men and women on your list weren't bought or coerced, then the next thing to determine is whether they shared more than they should have with somebody?" Erik paused, his voice dropping a full octave. "Prudence is often set aside during pillow talk, gentlemen."
"Men of the cloth are holy and celibate, Mr. Knight. We are above such things" A bishop added his tone indicating his outrage and indignation at the detective's implication.
Erik tilted his head and smiled a wicked grin. "Tell that to all the altar boys who were molested in Boston. I'm sure they'll find great comfort in knowing the abstinence of your clergy. My stepbrother didn't find much comfort in that fact while he was being molested and brutalized."
The room fell silent. Each bishop looked away, unable to stare at the detective as he made his brutal counterpoint.
"I'm sure that was a great comfort to him as he took his own life because no one would believe a priest was capable of such things, including his own overly fanatical parents. So please, take your self-righteous indignation and stick it where the sun doesn't shine. You're no better or worse than anybody else. But, perhaps you have the cornerstone on hypocrisy." Erik's words were daggers cutting deep wounds in the bishops and Archbishop.
The Archbishop cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. "I am sorry for your wounds, Detective. I can tell the hurt is deep and the scar unhealed. It shames me to admit that you are correct. We are not perfect. We're merely flesh and blood, like you. Some of us gave into darker urges and committed terrible, unspeakable things, but some men deliberately entered the priesthood from the darkness to throw our church in disarray and cast the net of doubt on all. As I stated earlier, we were caught flat footed, unable to react to the rapid pace our enemies schemed. We failed our faithful. We failed our God and we failed your stepbrother. I can't undo the past, Erik. I can only assure you that everything possible is being done to vet out the weeds hiding in God's garden and purge them. I understand your bitterness and am grateful you put aside your hatred to help us unearth Brother Denton's killer. It's my hope that you will also consider extending your myriad skills in helping us find any potential leak that may exist within our hierarchy. But believe me, son of Adam and of the stars, you are part of a much bigger plan and whether you want to or not, you will be forced to choose a side in the upcoming conflict. I don't possess the clairvoyance of a prophet but that much I know. You were created for a purpose, Detective, and it isn't solving petty mysteries, battling aliens, or playing spy across the globe. Your purpose is bigger than you choose to believe. You are the warrior, a soldier of Light, Erik. In a time when darkness falls across the world, you are the chosen guardian against the encroaching evil. You will have to make a choice, fight on the side of Light, or allow darkness to lay claim and waste to this world, establishing an eternal Hell on Earth." The Archbishop pointed toward him and, again, Erik felt the weight and subtle power behind the frail man. "Sometimes, Detective, we simply have no choice. When the time comes, my heart tells me you will do the right thing for the right reason. I can only pray for you."
Erik shook his head. The Archbishop was a very determined soul. "I don't know what to say. I didn't come here to get involved in a war of such epic proportion. I didn't come here to get involved in any theological cataclysmic happenings. I can't even fathom the things you're claiming and I haven't considered faith, religion or God since the death of my stepbrother. My days of being a warrior are past. I'm a husband, parent, gym manager and PI when a case lands on my desk. Right now, that's enough for me." Erik looked over at Martin. His friend was silent with sorrowful eyes. Martin should be somewhere dealing with his grief surrounded by family and friends, not getting sucked into biblical conflicts between warring factions and being told his son was partially responsible for his own death. "I ask again, Archbishop, can we please get back to the matter at hand." Erik glanced at the bishops, they were still ruffled at his sharp rebuke. He needed to move past that moment. He silently cursed, why didn't he just swallow his venom and hold his tongue. This wasn't the time to address those wounds. "Let me offer my apologies, I should have chosen my words more carefully. I let my private life and my personal feelings interfere with my job. That won't happen again. I know only a small fraction of priests are responsible for the crimes I mentioned and on the whole most are solid, holy men. But you're correct, Archbishop, some wounds don't heal. Might I suggest we adjourn for a while? I know Mr. Denton would like to see his son. Can some arrangement be made? I believe he's been extremely patient and reasonably restrained all things considered. After Mr. Denton has taken care of those most important personal matters, we can continue our investigation."
Bishop O'Malley nodded, accepting the olive branch offered by the detective. "An excellent idea Mr. Knight." He gestured toward two underlings. "Get three clerics to escort Mr. Denton to our holding facility. He is to be granted access to his son's body. Contact my undersecretary to coordinate a time when we can discuss Brother Denton's final resting place with Mr. Denton as well." O'Malley looked over at the elder agent. "Your escorts will be here shortly." The cleric turned toward Erik. "I
'll have my staff print a list of people who knew about the Ruby Crucifix and its location. If you and Mr. Denton would like to work with our staff to run through banking records, we would welcome the help. I refuse to get caught flat footed again."
Erik nodded as he headed toward the ivory white door. "We'll do what we can, Archbishop. May I make one more request?"
"Indeed, Detective, if it is within my power to grant."
"I'd like an artist brought in, if that's possible—a really good artist. I have a picture in my head of our killer and I want to get that picture on paper so we can put out some feelers and hopefully get a lead on him." Erik paused. "Or it … if we're considering the alternatives."
The Archbishop nodded. "Father Donlan is a most gifted artist, I'll have him summoned here."
Erik nodded and smiled. "Thanks."
Erik and Martin were escorted out of the white room to a nearby lounge area.
"I think we're going to be here another day or so, Martin."
The old man nodded in agreement. "At least. Hopefully we'll get somewhere when we get back." Denton studied his friend. "How are you holding up? I honestly didn't ask you here to get bombarded with all this 'Chosen being of Light' revelation." Denton shifted in his seat. "I have to admit though, seeing those symbols glow on your skin made my flesh tingle. I've been in some pretty deep shit in the last thirty-five years, Erik, and have never once felt in over my head. I don't mind admitting that I'm feeling that way for the first time in my career." Denton frowned shaking his head.
Erik curled his fingers into a tight fist. "Martin, I'm right there with you. I thought after the Observer incident nothing would faze or surprise me." The detective chuckled. "This little revelation from our Vatican friends disturbs my calm. I promised I wouldn't read their minds, but I left my senses open to their mental pathways and the Archbishop believes what he's saying. There's no sense of deceit in any of them. There was a sense of shame and embarrassment when I brought up the clergy abuse but even then, what the Archbishop said had the ring of truth to it. They've been behind the power curve in whatever's going on between the two factions. They can't seem to adjust their tactics to compensate for the world changing around them and they're quite flustered."
"So what's our plan going forward?"
Erik shook his head. "We do just what I said. Review the names and review the financials and hope the money trail gives us a few suspects. After we get our picture of the man or thing that murdered William, we'll send an image to the agency and have it run through every database our EYES system can access. If that comes up blank, I have a source we can try. But my gut tells me our murder suspect is someone familiar to Vatican City." Erik balled his right hand into a fist. "You don't hire someone to perform a job of this nature without him having intimate knowledge of the target area. This was an inside job, Martin. I'd bet my house on it. All we have are suspicions and theories right now. We'll know more shortly and we can adjust our plan of attack accordingly."
Denton sat back and nodded. "Agreed." The old man laughed. "I'm almost looking forward to retirement at this point. I admit I'm going to have to reassess my entire philosophical paradigm once this is over."
Erik chuckled. "No shit, you and me both."
Three men approached them. "Mr. Denton, sir. We are here to escort you to see your son."
Erik placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I can still be there if you want, Martin. You don't have to do this alone."
Denton placed his shaky hand over Erik's, his eyes heavy. "I've got this. Thank you though. I need to see my boy. We need to talk." A sob escaped him. "I need to say goodbye to my son."
Erik watched sadly as his friend was escorted out of the room. Despite all the intrigue, suspense, and terror they'd endured, the awful purpose of their trip came crashing down upon both men.
◆◆◆
Salisbury, Delaware. Warehouse district
Speaker of the House, Andrew Collins, felt the overpowering weight of the being standing next to him. Bartholomew's aura of power seemed wan compared to the intense presence. The being was easily six and half feet tall with annoyingly perfect skin and hair. Despite having the appearance and build of a powerful man, his face seemed childlike and innocent if not for those eyes. The eyes threatened to burn though the speaker every time they studied him. Collins couldn't endure the weight of that stare for more than two seconds at a time.
"The facility is six hundred feet below this warehouse. We'll have to take the elevator." Collins pressed the button silently hoping he'd be spared the awkward silence waiting for the elevator to arrive. The door opened and he smiled with relief, waving the being inside.
The large entity carefully studied the metal box and gently probed the walls with long slender fingers.
"It's an elevator."
The being turned. "Elevator," he repeated, cautiously stepping inside.
The doors closed and the metal box began to descend. The sudden motion alarmed the being and it tensed, arms raised and eyes burning with unknown power.
"It's okay," Collins soothed. "You're in no danger, I promise you. The elevator is taking us down to a storage area where your relic is being kept."
The being looked down at his chaperone. His gaze burned through the human. Collins felt his mind being probed and knew he was powerless to resist the intrusion. "I'm not lying, I assure you."
"You speak the truth, for now." The reply was icy and cold.
An involuntary shudder raced down the speaker's spine. "We were both deceived." Collins attempted to placate the being.
"I was told this. I will not harm you, human. Your fears are pointless." The being held up a silver case. "I've been told only to take back what is ours. Other matters will be sorted out by higher powers."
Collins managed a quick smile and relief washed over his body. "I'm relieved and I too believe you."
The rest of the descent was spent in silence. After two uncomfortably long minutes the elevator stopped and the doors opened, revealing a dimly lit corridor. Collins stepped out, gesturing down the large hallway. "This way."
The divine being followed in silence, eyes scanning every detail. Collins could only imagine what kind of data his guest stored inside that inhuman brain. There were several items he'd rather be kept secret and having this being studying every nook and cranny of his private stronghold was unnerving. After a brief walk they arrived at a heavy vault door. Collins immediately knew something was wrong. The guards protecting the relic were missing! The massive door had been forced open, hanging by a single warped hinge.
"Oh shit, no!" Collins walked swiftly toward the vault, "No! No! No!" The broken, bloodied corpses of his two guards littered the floor. Both men had drawn their guns and the speaker noticed that one of the pistols had been completely emptied. Dark blood stains intermixed with their human blood. They didn't go down without a fight. The dead men looked withered, like dried husks of corn. "What happened to them? What sort of thing could do this to a man?" Collins went to the hidden shelf where he'd stashed the relic. It was gone. He looked over at the being of Light, literally terrified.
The being studied the dark blood, rubbing a sample between his thumb and index finger. He looked over at the speaker. "Nosferatu!" he spat in disgust.
"I swear to you, we didn't do this. No one could possibly have known the relic was here! The shroud kept its presence hidden…" Collins stammered, panicked. "I don't understand. What is a nosferatu?" Collins asked in a desperate attempt to buy himself time to figure a way out of this mess.
"Foot soldiers of Molec! They have been here since the beginning, cast out during the first war. They chose not to serve like their master. The Father took their beauty and made them malformed wraiths of death." The being of Light pointed to the corpses. "They have been drained of their life force and their souls have been consumed. They have been touched by the cursed undead." The soldier of Light looked toward Collins. "The blood of the Son has been defiled and is out of our reach!"
The being's anger and frustration was palpable. "You will suffer for this. The higher lords will not endure this ignominy."
The speaker knew whatever bargain had been struck was now null and void. He glanced over at his butchered guards and then looked back towards the soldier of Light. The being had vanished as if swallowed by the air. "By the powers! We've just escalated the annihilation of mankind." He ran toward the elevator pulling out his cell phone. Collins waited impatiently cursing as the elevator slowly ascended. "Give me a bar damn you!" he yelled at his cell phone. After another minute of cursing, the cell phone registered. He dialed a number while pacing frantically. "Paul, we're in some deep shit! Get on our special phone and let our people know the relic was stolen from us! Right out of the damn warehouse! Our guards are dead and we've been compromised. Let our superiors in the Capitol know and get a team over here immediately. Oh and tell them our heavenly source blames the theft on someone or something called a nosferatu." Collins was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, it seems we have a mole in our organization. Listen Paul, we need to find this thing and fast … and return it to the rightful owners because we've just lit the fire on a holy war of totally epic proportions. The being I was with was pissed and he just vanished like a fart in the wind! The forces of Light already know we lost their treasure and we are responsible. If the forces of Light go nuclear, we're all done for." Collins nodded a few more times. "Yeah, good idea, smart man!!! Call Henderson and let him know too! Odds are he's probably already been informed but he can serve as a barometer on just how bad the 'other' side is taking this. If you can convince Henderson we were victims too, we still may be able to keep this genie in a bottle."