by Greg Ballan
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Vatican City, Rome
Several bishops whispered amongst themselves, conversation tinged with desperate words, He tried not to listen but the words, 'Stolen', 'Escalate' and 'War' repeated among the hushed tones. Two other clergy sat in a far corner thumbing through a folder hastily scribbling notes. Two other bishops were talking on ivory colored cellphones, pacing to and fro, hands frantically gesturing as they spoke. The Archbishop wore a deep scowl, frail fingers clutched a small silver cross suspended from an ivory chain. He mumbled some kind of prayer as his right arm made the sign of the cross blessing the room. The Archbishop's stoic sense of calm was no longer evident.
Erik waited until the door closed and the room once again became a seamless sea of ivory. Once the door closed everyone took their seats. "My apologies, Archbishop, I'm not reading anyone but I can sense panic among all of you. I gather something significant has happened. And judging from the tense energy, I'm assuming the news isn't good."
"You are astute, Detective." The old cleric nodded. "We were informed by our sources in Washington that the Ruby Crucifix was stolen from those who stole it from us."
"Washington?" Erik's voice jumped an octave.
"That doesn't surprise me. It seems Washington is the nexus for all sorts of normal and paranormal criminal activity." Denton folded his hands, resting his forehead against clasped fingers. "So the trail for all of this leads back to DC, including my son's killer." The elder agent had been stoic and subdued since his return from seeing his son.
"That would be a logical assumption. If the relic made its way to Washington, we can assume that the perp is the one who brought it." Erik poured some iced water from a large pitcher and poured some for his friend. "Could you please give us a little more detail?"
"One of our operatives in Washington was contacted regarding the relic. He was told the relic was stolen by mistake."
Erik frowned. "Mistake? How do you steal something by mistake and commit acts of violence in the process? It would seem the activity here was most deliberate."
The Archbishop nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It appears the thief had a personal agenda in addition to robbery. We don't have many details yet. Our people there are still gathering information."
Erik nodded impatiently. "I think we figured that much out already. Did you learn anything more about who took the relic? What about who ordered the theft?"
"One of our soldiers was led to a warehouse outside of Washington, then taken a very large distance below the ground. His guide was the speaker of the House of Representatives. We also learned that the relic is stored within some type of shroud to keep its presence concealed." The Archbishop frowned. "I confess I am baffled at how anything can hide such a powerful object from the forces of Light."
"Andrew Collins, Speaker of the House is involved with this?" Denton exclaimed. "He was our liaison to the President during our investigation to uncover the rogue elements operating the underground government in DC." The CIA agent took a long drink of water and cleared his throat. "We kept him abreast of all our activity and gave him names of people we were investigating. That bastard was probably informing the very people we were trying to root out."
Erik nodded. "That explains why we were always a step behind in our investigation. But we have a name now, somebody we can dig into. If Collins is dirty we'll track him down and ring out whatever tidbits of information he's got. The speaker has a high profile in Washington. There aren't many rat holes he can hide in without having to surface for air once in a while. That's the price you pay for a powerful gig. Everyone knows who you are." Erik looked over at Bishop O'Malley. "Were you able to get a list of names for us to check and more importantly, did you find the artist?"
O'Malley gestured to a thin man sitting nervously in a corner. "The information is being compiled by my administrative staff and the young man in the corner is Father Donlan. He was a digital artist before he heard God's calling. He'll be able to recreate, on his laptop, whatever you describe to him." O'Malley studied the nervous young cleric. "The young man's talent is remarkable. He should be painting pictures for a gallery or museum."
Erik tilted his head. "That's a strange remark for a holy man isn't it?"
O'Malley laughed. "The Lord moves in mysterious ways, Mr. Knight. His call to each man is different. I suspect our young cleric will find his duty more focused in the arts than in shepherding the flock." O'Malley gestured toward the nervous priest. "Come forward my young friend. We have need of your God-given talents."
Erik studied the nervous priest. The man was thinner than a broom stick with flesh that was barely distinguishable from the ivory-lit background. Father Donlan set up his large laptop. His fingers rapidly danced along the keyboard.
"I'm just programming my digital pen and loading an updated color palette, your grace." The priest's face was buried in his work for several minutes before his head popped up from behind the seventeen-inch screen. "Okay, everything is all set, I've loaded a facial template program based on a similar system used by the FBI to digitally recreate faces since that's what I was told I'd be drawing." The young cleric looked directly at Erik. "We should be able to create a lifelike image based on the database of facial features stored in the software subsystem. If you'll come over here, Mr. Knight, we can begin the process."
The detective walked over smiling. "I have a better idea. If I could transfer the exact image to your mind could you draw it?"
The cleric looked at him puzzled. "If that were possible, yes. It would be like doing a sketch from my own imagination, I think."
Erik smiled. "Okay, I'm going to project an image to you. I swear to you, you won't feel a thing. You'll just see the image in your mind as clear as if you were recalling it from memory."
The young cleric looked over at the Archbishop. The old man nodded slightly.
"Okay. I've been given permission."
Erik focused on the vision of the hooded man in black, recalling the image from the terrified young man at the hospital. He let the image run through his mind until the moment when the hood fell, exposing the murderer, and an instant before his flesh began to smoke and sizzle. Erik took that still image and focused it to perfect clarity, then projected that single thought to the young priest. Erik heard the young man gasp.
"Heavenly Father!" The young man shouted. "I see it, as clear as day. I can see it! The image is in my mind as if I created it!"
Erik stopped projecting and looked toward the young man. "Can you make that image? That's the man who slaughtered Brother Denton and the others.
The young priest's face became fierce and determined. "I know I can, I promise."
"Excellent. Thank you for trusting me." Erik took a step back as the young cleric began working.
Bishop O'Malley nodded. "That was amazing, Detective. You have many skills and talents."
"Erik, please call me Erik," he extended his hand toward the bishop.
O'Malley clasped his hand, "Erik."
"Father Donlan, how long will it take you to compose your work?"
The young priest was totally absorbed. His digital pen danced across the screen one moment, then his hands tapped rapidly on his keyboard. "No more than four hours. The initial sketched layers are easy to draw, but I'll need more time to capture all the detail in the image. The picture is so clear in my mind that I dare not look away for fear of losing it."
The Archbishop nodded in approval. "Might I suggest we move to the administrative offices? We do no good sitting idly by for four hours." The old man struggled to his feet and began walking toward the invisible door. He looked back. "Come along, gentlemen, we have our own work to do with the list of names and financial records. Let me see if I can motivate Bishop O'Malley's staff to hurry things along." The old man smiled wickedly. "Idle minds are the devil’s playground."
Erik and Martin chuckled as they followed the Archbishop. Erik looked back. The young priest was totally immersed in his work and the few re
maining bishops were busy reviewing papers that seemed to magically appear on the large table.
"What are you gaping at, Erik?"
He turned toward Martin. "Did you see any papers on the table while we were sitting there?"
Denton shrugged. "I can't say that I did, but I wasn't really paying all that much attention to what was on the table."
Erik shook his head and followed his friend out the door. "There were no papers."
Denton rolled his eyes. "My friend, you have a habit of obsessing over minutia. We just learned about devils, demons, the end of the world, armies of Light and Dark inside a room so white you can't tell the walls from the ceiling or the floor, and you're going to contemplate whether there were papers on the table or not."
Erik raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather think about that than the other stuff."
The two walked on in silence for several steps. "Ya know, I don't think I saw any papers either." Denton elbowed his friend in the side. "Damn it, now you've got me obsessing over minutia."
Chapter 5. Molec
Washington DC, Columbia Heights
Burning red eyes studied the holy relic suspended inside a clear membrane of the strongest ectoplasmic material. The dark satchel had finally withered and burned away due to continuous contact with the powerful source of light.
A dark wraith gloated, "After so many centuries, we possess the key to unleashing the second coming. Only now it will sit in limbo for eternity and the forces of Light can search the entire universe and they'll never find it."
A voice as cold and hard as arctic ice disagreed. "Even now, God knows where this relic lay and could whisk it away with a stray thought."
The skeletal nosferatu bowed. "I beg forgiveness, Lord Molec."
The powerful demon turned to face his servant. "Only the rules laid down in the beginning protect us from eradication by the more powerful forces of Light. We need to move forward with the next phase of our plan. The forces of Light must know we've stolen the relic. The distrust between the warring factions will continue to escalate." Molec flexed his large onyx-colored claws, still gazing at his prize. "We need to move now! The son of Adam and the stars and his offspring must be ended. Once they are terminated, our hold on Earth is complete and we will have done what Lucifer has failed to do for over ten thousand millennia, wrest another world from the forces of Light."
Molec pointed toward the Ruby Crucifix. "Even my most powerful creation will not be able to contain the power of the Christ for long. We must move swiftly against Light's champions. Once they're gone, the relic becomes irrelevant, an object of untold power with no one alive to be the receptacle of such awesome might." The powerful demon laughed a hideous sound that made his servant shudder. "Not only are the forces of Light scrambling after us, but I imagine my old master is most put out with me at this point and wishes to eradicate my essence back into the bowels of his own domain." Molec sighed and flames burst from his misshapen nostrils. "I will take the Earth and humiliate Lucifer, and then I will bargain with God for the return of his precious trinket. My price will be domain over Hell itself.
"My Lord, Molec, we have a problem."
The demon turned to face a woman of impeccable beauty and symmetry. Molec studied her form for several silent seconds imagining her with some horns and maybe some scales. A lusty groan escaped his throat, before her words fully registered. "What is it?"
"The hybrid found our Vatican sources. One of the papal undersecretaries just sent me a text."
Molec smashed his fist against his desk cracking the heavy mahogany top. "Damn his soul to Hell! If Knight gets his hands on those two worms, they'll squeal like stuck pigs!! Humans!" he cursed spitting a searing fireball that vaporized one of his lesser servants. A skeletal nosferatu moved in, grasping the empty air hoping to feed on the slaughtered being's soul. The gaunt wraith's eyes glowed fiery orange as its claws grabbed an invisible object. The being's hands captured something and a floating white orb materialized trapped in the creature's grasp. The baseball-sized ball of light seemed to flicker madly struggling in the creature's grip. With a slow perverse pleasure, the undead creature bit into the orb like a ripe apple and began sucking on the spiritual energy. The soul shrieked in agony as it was consumed. Little by little the orb's essence faded and the satiated Hell beast cackled with satisfaction.
Molec looked on nonchalantly as his servant cannibalized the soul. The demon studied the sultry woman. She had a perverse smile as she watched the wraith feed. "You're not disgusted by my servants, human? Have you nothing to say?"
The woman smiled a grin of pure evil as she unbuttoned her blouse revealing her firm body. She walked forward grabbed his large black hands pulling them to her breasts, allowing the creature to feel her soft, supple, flesh. She leaned in closer. "He should have stepped out of the way!" She placed her lips against his forehead gently licking his skull.
With one powerful gesture the demon ripped away the rest of her clothes forcing her on top of his desk, Molec looked over at one of his servants. "Don't stand there gawking at me. Tell our servant in the Vatican to kill those priests. I want them dead before Knight can interrogate them!" The demon turned his full attention to his human lover.
As the acolyte left, it heard the woman's screams shift from pleasure to pain and then to terror. It shook its head sadly, capable of remorse and regret. No human female could satiate a demon. Molec knew it and took his pleasure in torturing the seductress more for her arrogant audacity than he did in raping her. Human flesh tore so easily and the blood inside was so sweet.
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Vatican City, Rome
Erik and Martin studied several pages of financial data. Two high ranking priests' bank accounts stood out from the others.
"The accounts are in the same bank," Erik pointed toward the letterhead, "and the deposits were wired from an untraceable account in Fiji. Every transaction was a deposit from some unknown source to both accounts simultaneously, right down to the minute."
"You're sure, Erik? Let's not accuse someone without being rock solid sure of our facts."
The detective nodded. "The Vatican secretary made a few calls on those deposits and the source can't be traced to any particular financial institution. That's not a coincidence, Counselor. While he was doing that, I went through some vacation records. It appears both of these men requested vacation at the same time over the last three years. I admit once or twice in three years isn't an anomaly but six times out of six requests along with untraceable deposits appearing two to four days after their return, deposited within seconds of each other at least begs a few questions be asked." Erik pushed the data back toward his associate.
Denton studied the figures one last time then tossed the papers on the table. "I agree. Let's let Bishop O'Malley know we have two suspects."
Erik frowned. "If these priests are involved, Martin, they may know who killed your son. We may solve both mysteries at the same time. I know I promised the Archbishop I wouldn't probe anyone's thoughts, but if they go mute I'm thinking about just going into their heads and extracting the information we're looking for."
Denton shook his head, face set in stone. "That's not ethical. As much as I want answers, sifting through someone's mind like so much spaghetti makes us as bad as those we're trying to thwart. Let's stick to the tried and true methods of interrogation. I'm confident between the two of us and the pressure the Vatican officials will bring to bear will be enough to break our suspects. At least that's what I'm hoping for. I just want to get my hands on the man or thing that took my son."
Erik nodded. "We're on the right path, Martin. Let's take this to the Archbishop and O'Malley and wring some truth out of these two gentlemen."
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The Archbishop studied the data Erik and Martin provided, listening carefully as both men presented their evidence. The old man shook with fury. "I personally recommended Father Bashir for service in Vatican City and Father Timulty is my dear friend. How could the
y do this? Why would they do this to us?"
Erik sighed. "I don't know, but let's find out."
The Archbishop pointed toward two of his guards. "You will escort Mr. Knight and Mr. Denton to the rectory suites. I want Fathers Bashir and Timulty brought here immediately. If they resist, toss them in irons and drag them here!"
"We just want to question them," Denton protested. "We aren't absolutely certain they're guilty."
"They broke their vows, Special Agent Denton. They should not be taking in any outside funds especially in these large denominations. Both these men have access to sensitive church data. If that data has been issued to our enemies, I need to know now. They are guilty! It's just a matter of determining just how deep their guilt and their sins run at this point." The old man's jaw clenched and his voice turned lethal. "I will have my answers."
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Vatican Administrative Apartments
The guards gestured toward a large door. Erik could hear laughing and giggling coming from behind the door. "Women?" He looked at one of the guards.
"Women are forbidden here." The man hissed.
Denton turned toward his friend. "We need surprise now, Erik. This would be a good time for one of your patented acts of aggression."
Erik rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I'll take care of the door…" He pointed to the guards. "You two rush in and gather our naughty lovebirds." Erik nodded and pointed toward the door. "Now!" His left fist smashed through the door. He followed up with a massive right cross knocking the door off its hinges, forcing the shattered barrier to collapse into the room. The guards rushed in to the sounds of screaming women and outraged men. Both priests had been caught with their pants down, literally. The two women they were with hastily threw on black dresses. To Erik's dismay, he saw veils on the floor. The women were nuns.