by Alex Siegel
Peter continued to make his way through the large building. He came to a plate glass window which allowed him to look into the main server room. Hundreds of identical computers were neatly stacked and racked. Blue network cables went up to open ducts hanging from the ceiling, and power lines connected to outlets on the floor. He could hear the many fans even through the glass.
The company was still small enough to keep its servers here, but that would change soon due to rapid growth. Management was already evaluating data centers in the area.
Peter swiped his badge across a sensor, typed a combination on a keypad, and entered the server room. The fan noise was annoyingly loud inside. Cool air made a shiver run down his spine. It was about ten degrees colder in here than the rest of the building.
A technician was working on one of the computers. Peter gave him a noncommittal nod and a slight wave of the hand. The technician responded with a polite smile. Damn it, Peter thought. Now I have to wait.
He pretended to work on some cabling while he waited for the technician to leave. The man was taking his sweet time.
Peter glanced at a red, steel door. Painted words read, "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY - KEEP OUT." He suppressed a smile. That red door was the subject of rampant speculation in the company. Peter liked to listen to the wild theories and laugh. He knew what was behind it, but telling anybody would defeat the purpose.
Finally, the technician finished his task and left. Peter went to the window and made sure nobody else was coming. Security couldn't see him because this was the one room in the building without cameras.
He quickly walked to a closet filled with spare computer parts, cables, and light tools. He swiped his badge across a spot on the wall. A sensor was hidden there, but it was painted over and invisible. There was a click, and the entire wall popped open. He hurried through to a secret chamber behind the wall, and he pushed it back into position. Heavy, metal latches engaged securely. The wall itself was made of steel plate.
Peter's chamber contained a desk, a chair, a single bed, a dresser, a toilet, a small refrigerator, a cupboard, shelves, and a rack of computers. He ran to the computers and stroked them like he was petting a cat.
He gently kissed one of the computers. "Did you miss me, darling?" he whispered. "I wasn't gone for too long, I hope. A man needs to get out of the house once in a while."
Peter sat at his desk. A stand held four giant computer monitors which spanned the entire desk. He touched a key on his keyboard, and the monitors came to life. He immediately went to the surveillance program.
Cameras and microphones were placed throughout the building. A mosaic of video feeds appeared on his screen, and he could see everything that was happening in the company, including two employees having sex in a closet. Disgusting, he thought.
He touched one of the feeds, and sound came through a speaker. He listened for a moment to the CEO talk to the VP of marketing. It was a stupid conversation, and Peter quickly moved on. A technical argument between two engineers about a software design concept was much more intriguing. Peter thought both sides of the argument were wrong, but at least there was some intelligence involved.
He browsed the company email while he listened. He tried to scan every message that went in or out. That task was becoming difficult as the number of employees exploded. Soon, he would have to use some kind of text analysis to filter out the obviously unimportant messages. He was a genius, but even he couldn't make more hours in a day.
Peter came across an email exchange between a salesman and his wife. The salesman described the working conditions and management in very unfavorable terms. Peter made a note to have that man fired.
A message popped up on the screen. It was from Rebecca, the only woman in the world that Peter trusted. They had never met in person, and he was happy about that. He much preferred a hygienic, electronic relationship. He didn't even know what she looked like, and he didn't particularly care. Her beautiful mind was all that mattered.
"Hi, Peter!" the message read. "How is it going?"
"Great," Peter typed in response. "The software is working perfectly."
"I saw a newspaper article about your company. It talked about how fast you're growing."
"We already filled this whole building. It seems like we just moved in."
"I'm proud of you," Rebecca sent. "You deserve your success."
"You were a big part of it."
"I'm happy I could help. I have to run off to class now. Bye."
"Bye," he typed.
He smiled and sighed happily.
Then he went back to spying on the employees. He decided to listen to voice recordings for the sake of variety. Sometimes, people would say things out loud that they would never write in email.
* * *
Hanley and Ipo walked into an interview room in the Santa Clara County Main Jail. Hanley had been in similar rooms many times as an FBI agent, so the place felt like home to him. He swaggered confidently.
The room had cinderblock walls covered in white paint. Four wooden chairs were placed around a plastic table which was bolted to the floor. There were no windows, and the air was a little stale.
A man in bright orange clothes was sitting in a chair. He was Caucasian, and his brown hair was cut short. His upper lip was puffy.
"Hello, Mr. Dixon," Ipo said. "We're from the Santa Clara County Antiviolence Task Force. We have a few questions for you."
He and Hanley sat at the table. They were wearing cheap, cotton business suits appropriate for underpaid county employees. Ipo's was green, and Hanley's was brown.
"I already told the police everything," Dixon said.
"Tell us again, please," Ipo said. "We're trying to understand the root cause of this case."
Dixon snarled. "It's simple. I caught my slutty wife in my bed with another man!"
"You punched her in the face. You broke her nose."
"What was I supposed to do? Have a polite conversation? She was fucking another guy while I was at work! Our kids were in the house. I was pissed off."
Ipo furrowed his brow. "You called her slutty. This wasn't her first affair?"
"I don't know. I never caught her before."
"But you suspected?"
"No," Dixon said, "but maybe I should've."
"Have you ever hit her before?"
"No! Listen, it was an ugly situation. The guy's dick was hanging out, and it was still wet. I reacted. I obviously didn't think it through, or I wouldn't be in jail. You're a man. You must understand how I felt."
Hanley looked over at Ipo and wondered whether he was actually in a relationship with a woman. Hanley hadn't seen any sign of affection between Ipo and another member of the team even though several were female.
"This interview isn't about me," Ipo said. "We're here because you slugged your wife in the face. You have no criminal record, no documented history of violence. What changed you?"
"I didn't change," Dixon said. "My wife did. The mother of my two children became a cheating slut."
"Who was the other guy?"
"I don't know. He ran off before I got his name. I never saw him before."
Ipo frowned. "Did you notice any changes in your wife before this incident? Did she eat new foods? Get sick? Have trouble sleeping? Nightmares?"
"I don't think so." Dixon shrugged. "But I don't spend all day with her. She stays home with the kids while I work."
"Did she ever mention Dr. Carefree?"
"No. Who is he?"
"Never mind." Ipo turned to Hanley. "Do you have any questions?"
Hanley had no idea what to ask. This was his first real mission in the Society, and the whole experience still felt strange. He shook his head.
"Then we'll go," Ipo said. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Dixon. Good luck in court."
He and Hanley left the jail. They walked out to West Hedding Street which was a wide avenue with plenty of traffic. The parking garage for the jail was on the other side of the street, and
a pedestrian bridge provided a safe way to get across. An airplane swooped in for a landing at nearby San Jose Airport. Hanley took a deep breath of cool, fresh air.
"I have a question," he said in a low tone. "What do we do about women? What are the rules for dating in the Society?"
"It's discouraged," Ipo said. "Relationships get in the way of missions."
"I can't be celibate for the rest of my life."
"We're allowed to use professionals to... relieve the tension. I know a few working girls who are clean and trustworthy. The Society pays for their services, of course."
Hanley raised his eyebrows. "Really? That's a little strange for people who serve God. Aren't we supposed to have high moral standards?"
Ipo snorted with amusement. "We're soldiers, not priests. Our standards are whatever gets the job done. I've certainly committed many sins, and the Lord still approves of me."
"How can you tell?"
"I can feel it. After you've been in the Society for a while, you just know these things."
That explanation sounded like a convenient rationalization to Hanley, but he kept quiet.
"We need to talk to Mrs. Dixon next," Ipo said. "Maybe she can explain how she ended up in bed with another man."
Hanley nodded. "Good idea. Min Ho should be able to get her address."
* * *
Hanley and Ipo stepped out of their car. They were in front of a single-story house with blue stucco walls. A wooden picket fence surrounded a tiny lawn. A tree stood in the yard, but it was dried out and half-dead. A child's tricycle was by the front door.
"I'm still a little vague on the questions we should be asking," Hanley said.
"Supernatural entities interact with people in a variety of ways," Ipo said. "Most often, there is a ball of bright light or glowing fog which speaks telepathically to the target. Another common technique is to use dreams."
"You're serious?" Hanley stared. "Sounds hokey to me."
"I've actually seen it, but they use other methods, too. I've heard about written notes dropped from the sky, wood grain patterns, and mysterious phone calls. One guy even saw messages written in spaghetti noodles. I think God's enemies try to be tricky to avoid getting caught. The Lord is always watching for trouble."
"How many enemies does He have?"
Ipo shrugged. "I have no idea. It doesn't really matter. Come on."
He went to the front door and knocked loudly. Hanley could hear small children yelling inside the house. It wasn't clear whether they were fighting or playing. Ipo knocked again.
The door opened, and an Asian woman looked out. Protective plastic covered her nose, and straps went around her head. Her black hair was cut short. She was wearing a pink polka dot dress.
"Mrs. Dixon?" Ipo said.
"Yes." The woman nodded cautiously. "What do you want?"
"We're from the Santa Clara County Antiviolence Task Force. We just have a few questions about the fight between you and your husband."
"The police already asked me a lot of questions."
"I know." Ipo nodded. "This shouldn't take long. Mind if we come in?"
She hesitated, and then stepped out of the way. "It's kind of messy. Kids..."
The two legionnaires went inside the small house. One little boy was watching a loud, annoying cartoon on a television while a girl was putting clothes on a doll. Toys were scattered all over, and the tan carpet had colorful stains. Hanley wondered how the family was supporting itself with the father in jail.
"Can we talk someplace a little quieter?" Ipo said.
"Sure," Mrs. Dixon said.
They went into the kitchen. The floor was covered with some kind of plastic made to look like wood. All the cabinets and appliances were white. Dirty cereal bowls and spoons were in the sink.
"Tell us about the incident," Ipo said, "please."
She blushed. "It's kind of embarrassing."
"Anything you tell us will be kept confidential."
"I, uh, was having a nice time with Bruce when my husband walked in..."
"Bruce?" he said. "Tell us about him."
"He's a guitar player. His lyrics are the most beautiful poetry I ever heard. I wrote poetry when I was a girl, and Bruce's words really speak to me. I invited him to my house to play guitar to the kids. One thing led to another." Mrs. Dixon blushed again. "It wasn't planned."
"You've never had an affair before?"
"No! This was the first and only time."
Ipo nodded somberly. "How did you meet Bruce?"
"On the internet."
"You invited a stranger you met on the internet to your house? Wasn't that dangerous?"
"We sent messages back and forth for weeks," she said. "He sounded very nice and sincere. I trusted him."
Ipo frowned.
"Does your husband have a history of violence?" Hanley said.
Mrs. Dixon shook her head. "He never hit me before. I'm thinking about not pressing charges. He was surprised and not thinking clearly. I'm sure he's sorry about the whole thing, and I'm sorry about putting him in that position. We both made bad decisions." She sighed.
"This may seem like an odd question," Ipo said, "but have you seen any strange lights lately? Did you have a very memorable dream?"
"No."
"Have you been receiving messages or inspiration from an unexpected source?"
"No." She stared at him. "What kinds of questions are these?"
"Standard procedure. We need to look around the house for a few minutes. Our report has to include a description of the location of the attack."
Mrs. Dixon made a sour face. "Just don't take too long."
"We'll be very quick," Ipo said. "Thank you, ma'am."
He and Hanley began to move through the house.
"What are we looking for?" Hanley whispered.
"Anything strange," Ipo replied.
Hanley examined the house the same way he would examine a crime scene. His expert eye tried to pick out things which didn't belong. There were two bedrooms: one for the adults and one for the children. The home was small, crowded, and not very clean.
The legionnaires performed a quick but careful sweep. Neither man found anything remarkable.
Finally, they left. Ipo thanked Mrs. Dixon one more time before walking out the door.
Once they were outside, Hanley said, "That was a waste of time."
Ipo furrowed his brow. "Obviously, we're not asking the right questions. The early stages of an investigation are always frustrating."
"Why doesn't God tell us what's really going on? He communicates with members of the Society, right?"
"Yes, but it's better if we just do our job and leave Him out of it. When the Lord has to clean up our messes, it's never pretty."
"I'll take your word for it," Hanley said. "Marina claims she's seen God several times."
"So have I. I felt His presence very strongly when I got my gift. You'll have divine encounters, too. It's one of the perks of being a Spear."
Ipo took out his phone and pressed the speaker button. He dialed a number which Hanley recognized as Marina's.
"Hello?" she said.
"We did two interviews, ma'am," Ipo said. "Neither was productive."
"That's unfortunate. Collect samples from all over the Bay Area and bring them back to headquarters. Corrie needs something to analyze."
"What kind of samples?"
"Food," Marina said, "water, anything that might contain a poison or a disease."
"That's not very specific."
"I know. Hopefully, the survey that the law firm is performing will give us a real lead. That's our best bet. By the way, tonight we're going to have a group training exercise. It will be a lot of fun."
"What kind of exercise?" Ipo said cautiously.
"You'll see. Start collecting those samples."
"Yes, ma'am. Bye." He hung up.
"More driving?" Hanley grimaced.
Ipo nodded. "All the way around the Bay."
> * * *
Marina sighed with frustration. The worst part of any investigation was the beginning when there were many questions and few answers. Patiently gathering evidence was not her idea of a good time. Fighting and killing were a lot more enjoyable.
She walked over to Min Ho who was typing on his computer as usual. The large screens were packed with information, but most of it looked like gibberish to her. She knew only the basics of computers, and at times, that limitation was a real handicap. The world was growing more technological every year. She would have to expand her skillset if she wanted to keep up.
"Any results?" Marina said.
Min Ho jumped a little and looked up at her. Clearly, he hadn't known she was standing right behind him.
He was wearing a stylish, white shirt with a diagonal line of brass buttons across his chest. He had bleached a strip of hair to make it white. Marina wondered why he had bothered. Who was he trying to impress? He could've worn a burlap sack and nobody on the team would've cared.
"Look at this, ma'am," Min Ho said.
He typed on his computer. An animation appeared showing blobs of color evolving over a map of the Bay Area. They started as greens and yellows. As the animation proceeded, red patches appeared and grew larger until they dominated the map.
"I performed an analysis of domestic violence, divorce, and other indicators of social dysfunction," he said. "It looks like the phenomenon began about four or five months ago in San Jose. It's been expanding exponentially since then."
"Then we need to focus our investigation on San Jose," Marina said. "How big is the city?"
"About a million people."
She exhaled sharply. "Too big to investigate on foot. We need a clue, damn it!"
Marina walked around the tables to see what Jia was doing. The Chinese girl had perfect posture as she typed rapidly on her computer. She was wearing a red shirt and cute, yellow shorts.
"Any luck on this side?" Marina said.
"I found a volcano on the Midway Islands," Jia said. "It's been spewing ash for six months, and some of that ash landed on California. Maybe it's toxic."
"In that case, we would see a much wider effect. This problem is local to the Bay Area."