Hollow

by Lee Doty

  “Falcons?” Jackie hadn’t meant to interrupt, the question had just slipped out.

  “The Clerics call their teams Falcons.” Crow shrugged, “I guess it’s because they keep us hooded when we’re not hunting.”

  Clerics? Jackie nodded, still confused and curious, but filing the info away for further questioning later.

  The priest continued, “I knew at that point it would be a race, or two races: Could your organization kill the report before mine picked it up, and could you get Ash back under cover before they came to snatch her.”

  “The whole time I was watching. I knew that both sides wanted Ash and I was pretty sure they both wanted her alive—at least for a little while. So I retreated somewhat and watched.”

  “You waited for us to fight it out so that you could take out the winner?” Jackie said, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice. She needed to deepen rather than strain the rapport between her and this dragon with the priest’s collar. And she had to admit, she approved tactically, if not necessarily morally. Then it occurred to her that this was a war, and that he was a potential ally, not someone who had started on their side. It was unfair to expect him to treat the OSI as anything but a threat, though it was her greatest hope to change that now.

  The priest smiled, but then tried to put it away. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was either waiting to see where you would take her, or to kill the Falcons after they’d finished killing you.” He shook his head apologetically, “I knew if they came before you got away that I’d be dealing only with them.”

  Jackie frowned, but nodded.

  “Though I was pleasantly surprised to find you still alive and… frisky.” He smiled and Jackie joined him, rolling her eyes. “Not to mention helpful.”

  He bowed his head fractionally, “True. And thank you… for shooting that van and not me.”

  “You are welcome.” Jackie paused, “Now. We must move forward. Let me call Jeremy.”

  His brow furrowed, lips pursing, “I cannot yield myself into your hands. I am the only one I am sure is on Ash’s side. The only one on only her side. Since I have dispatched both of the teams the Clerics sent, your friends are the only ones posing an immediate threat to her.”

  “Clerics? You mean priests like you?”

  The priest barked out a harsh little laugh, “No, Miss. Not like me. These priests are priests of a ruthless and quite imaginary God whose only commandments are to kill and to obey without question.”

  “Sort of a more Old Testament God?” Jackie asked, face twisting subtly with the confusion pressing in on her.

  The priest looked at her, surprised for a moment, then finally said, “You seem to speak less than a thousand words of Old Testament as well.” He gave a wry smile, then added, “But I don’t suppose you want to hear my excellent sermon on how the God of the Old Testament was also a God of love… I gave it last month after communion… it was a real barn burner, not a dry eye in the house.”

  Jackie shook her head, “Sorry, but I don’t understand… who are these clerics… do they control the Dragons?”

  “Yes.” He said, “Yes, they control them, but they are priests like the dragons are murderers… only in a world where lie and truth are indistinguishable, where what you do does not make you who you are.”

  Jackie shook her head, blinking, “But why? Who are they? What do they want?”

  The priest shrugged with a dry resignation that time had desiccated long ago, “All I have is the lies. The empty prayers, the game that isn’t.”

  Jackie’s lips twitched up in an unexpected smile, “You think you have it bad? All I have is the fortune cookie riddles you like to use to explain things.”

  His smile joined hers and he shrugged again. Then he nodded to himself, as if settling on a course of action. “You are going to help me breach your friend’s apartment.”

  “What?” Jackie sputtered, “How?”

  The priest simply opened the door of the car and stepped out into the parking structure.

  Jackie thought furiously, “What if I just call him and tell him I lost Jo.”

  The priest bent down so that Jackie could see his face through the still open passenger door, “Would he believe you?”

  “Well, he knows I lost her… she is in his apartment. Maybe he’ll tell Jo I’m there and invite me up?”

  “Yes, but would you call him in such a situation? Is he in your chain of command?” the priest asked, knowing the answer. “And unless he is a fool, he will assume that you have been compromised and act accordingly.”

  Jackie sighed, trying to think harder. He was right. If she called, she’d only arouse suspicion. “What if I just came clean, told them everything that’s happened?”

  “I’m afraid that your organization would play it ‘safe’ and try to subdue me.” He shook his head thoughtfully, “I don’t see that ending well. I might be forced to—act against your friends.” The extent of the threat was conveyed in his subtle emphasis on the word “act”, but there was a clear understanding between them. “That doesn’t end well for my conscience or for your friends.” He gave her a direct look, “Even if you get lucky, I end up dead or in captivity and nobody is free to watch over Ash.”

  “Please,” Jackie said, feeling as if she were falling toward the deaths of more good people. She clung to the steering wheel as if the car were balanced precariously over an abyss and any wrong move would drive her over the edge. Yet she knew that if she didn’t move, she would still fall. “We are on the same side. You have seen how we treated Jo. When you attacked me, we were going to a movie after work. Jo works with children. It makes her happy. We haven’t imprisoned her… we are trying to free her, free her from whatever these clerics have done to her.”

  The priest’s full attention was falling on Jackie, dissecting her words and gestures, her expression, the look in her eyes. Finally, he bobbed his head in acknowledgement, “What were you playing at?”

  A rush of hope joined the tight terror in Jackie’s chest, “I don’t know all the details, but my orders were to be a friend and protector. The reports I gave were focused on how Jo was doing, how she was feeling, what she needed. At first I thought it was crazy because I saw her as a threat, like you see us now. Lord knows someone like her—like you—can be a threat, but as I got to know her, I realized what Dr. Smith was doing. I realized that Jo wasn’t a threat or an asset… she is one of the best people I’ve ever met. She’s like us, she cares about what’s right. All she needs is time to find what’s right.”

  “So she can help you.” His reproach was gentle, but it was there.

  “Would you?”

  “Would I what?” the priest asked cautiously.

  “Would you help us?”

  The direct question, delivered without guile, seemed to strike home and the priest let his eyes drop for a moment, then he stood up, leaning on the roof of the car.

  Jackie pried her hands from the wheel and got out of the car, turning to face him across the roof.

  The priest straightened with an unreadable look on his face and turned to go. “Come on.” He said, closing the door and striding away.

  Jackie pulled her rifle from the back seat, readied it and dropped it again on its sling beneath her coat. She let her hand fall upon the pistol in the jacket pocket, feeling its reassuring weight through the material. She closed and locked the car, then hurried to catch up. As she approached the priest, she could not tell that he’d slung the stolen submachine gun beneath his coat, though she’d seen him do it in the car.

  “Where are we going?” she said as she fell into stride beside him.

  “Thanks for not shooting me again.” He said with a sidelong glance and an amused smile.

  “Were you still testing the pinky swear when you turned your back on me just now?” she asked returning his smile.

  He snorted and nodded. “Strangely, commitment cannot be discovered while looking at it.”

  Jackie snorted out a b
rief laugh, “Thank you for that, fortune cookie man. What are my lucky numbers for today?”

  He gave her a level look as they descended the stairs toward the ground level. After the first two flights spent in silence, Jackie asked, “So is this how it is now? You’re going to keep giving me your back from time to time to gauge my friendship?”

  He glanced at her, but simply gave her a small shake of his head. She had no idea how to read it.

  When they reached the ground level of the parking structure, the priest took two swift steps ahead and opened the door for Jackie.

  “Was that you being a gentleman, or testing my friendship again?” Jackie gave him a skeptical smile as she passed by. He only smiled in return, then pulled the collar on his jacket up, tucking his chin down as he stepped out onto the street.

  At the sidewalk, he took her elbow and gently steered her to the right, toward Jeremy’s building. They walked in silence, each trying to survey the environment as surreptitiously as possible, with their efforts limited to quick glances and shifts of the eye spread out over time.

  The priest pulled out the phone and checked the tracker, then stowed it again. He did not slow as he passed the entrance to the building.

  Jackie looked at him, allowing the question to be asked only by her eyes. He gave his head a small, casual shake, as if he were disagreeing with her about the weather forecast, then said with an oddly manufactured malice, “Do not try to escape.”

  Jackie didn’t do a double take, but only barely avoided it. Now that she was looking, she could plainly see the artificial manner he was now projecting. His manner was overtly hostile, his eyes opaque. “I told you we’d only find her at the shop.” She said, scorn and petulance warring in her voice.

  He nodded, a small smile of understanding flickering once on his face. They walked to the end of the block and turned right. He looked around quickly, like a tourist looking for a landmark, then said, voice only slightly too loud, “We will wait at my, uh… lair until the morning. You will not try to escape.” He fixed her with a grave look, face stern, eyes sparkling.

  Jackie played along with the horribly scripted and acted charade. “You’ll never get away with this, you, uh… monster.” She said with all the finesse and conviction of a fourteen-year-old heroine in a middle school Shakespeare production: ‘Where 4 art thoo Romy-yo?’, she thought, not smiling.

  He grunted in what a fool might consider a threatening manner and shoved her toward the lobby of a hotel with a cheap-looking overly elaborate façade and loud carpet.

  Inside the lobby, he nodded dismissively to the attendant as he rushed Jackie toward the bank of elevators beyond the front desk. He pushed the call button and they waited. She raised her eyes to meet his and lifted her eyelids in an unasked question. He faced her squarely, but wasn’t watching her. His eyes were fixed beyond her on the entrance from the street.

  She opened her mouth to give voice to the question, but he silenced her with another small but sharp shake of his head. She closed her mouth and they waited in the dim vestibule with the loud carpet before the brushed chrome elevator door and the dimly glowing call button.

  The dented brushed chrome doors finally opened to reveal quite a few reflections of Jackie and the priest. Rising over and around carpet that made even the lobby’s carpet look tame were four walls of beveled glass panel mirrors around a single chrome rail at waist level and one small brushed chrome floor-to-ceiling panel on each of the walls. In the center of the chrome panels at eye level were collage advertisements for several local restaurants and bars. In the many facets of the many mirrors, Jackie’s face looked drawn with worry, but the priest’s was open and filled with a surprised wonder. “Wow.” He said simply, seemingly forgetting the gravity of the last few moments, “I had no idea this hotel had a chocolate factory.”

  She snorted, shaking her head as they stepped forward into the Wonkavator.

  The priest, took up a position near the panel and pressed the door close button.

  Until the old chrome doors finally rattled closed, the priest stood vigil in the corner watching the front door of the hotel as surreptitiously as possible.

  “What floor is your friend’s apartment on?” He asked.

  “What’s going on?” Jackie asked.

  The priest gestured with his open hand for patience and asked again, “What floor, please.”

  Jackie thought briefly, then said, “Seven… it’s room 715. Why?”

  “How sure are you?”

  Jackie thought briefly, then nodded her head, “Sure.”

  He pushed the button for the top floor and they felt the subtle tug as the elevator began moving upward.

  “What’s going on?” Jackie asked.

  “They’re here.” The priest responded.

  Jackie waited a few beats for the priest to elaborate, then finally tried to prod him, “We knew it was likely that our men had moved to secure her…”

  “Not your men.” The priest said, lips tight.

  “More of your people?” Jackie’s hand drifted unconsciously to rest on the comforting weight of the rifle hanging beneath her coat, “How do you know?”

  “Do you remember that electrical truck parked a half block before the hotel?”

  Jackie thought for a second, then shook her head, “Maybe?”

  It was a public utility vehicle from Orland Park.

  “And?”

  “What’s a public utility vehicle from Orland Park doing just south of the Loop?” He asked, but then continued without waiting for the response, “This is far outside the area of their service and if the worker lived in this area he wouldn’t have used temporary parking on the street at this hour.”

  “Maybe my people commandeered it to come into the area under the radar?”

  The priest gave her a piercingly direct look, “I think you’re right about why the van was taken, but would your people have left the driver’s blood misted on the inside of the window?”

  Jackie’s sudden fear made it seem as if the elevator had begun a freefall, rather than rising through the building. “No.”

  “So the bad news is that we’ve again got dragons. The worse news is that I’m not going to be able to surprise them again, as they’ve got that first massacre on video with full telemetry.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” The priest nodded, “And the worst news is that this means there are at least two teams in play.”

  “Why?”

  “That parking spot on the street was too exposed, too close to their target. We lose many of our advantages when limited to accelerator, brake and steering wheel, so they would have left the car blocks back and come in on foot. The first team likely walked in and secured the area, then the others, like the ones in that utility van could have driven in.”

  “If they have this area covered, why aren’t we dead?” Jackie asked. “We know you use snipers.”

  “The real question you want to ask is how they knew to come here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it answers your first question.” He said simply.

  “What?”

  The silence lengthened between them for a few seconds, then the priest looked at Jackie and his face creased with concern, then understanding. She was lost. “Sorry.” He said earnestly, “Either they knew where Ash was or they knew where we were. If they knew where Ash was, they would have moved against her, so they must have known only where we were and were hoping to follow us to Ash.”

  Jackie’s blank stare continued.

  The priest resumed reluctantly, like a professor unable to lead his students to an obvious solution to a problem. “And since they don’t know where Ash is, they haven’t killed us since we have not yet led them to her.”

  “And that was the reason for the Kabuki Theater out there on the street.” Jackie said, finally understanding, “To let them know that we’d soon lead them to Ash, but not quite yet.”

  “Yes, and the ridiculous acting was a
message to your people, in case any were left to observe us.” The priest said with a smile.

  “What message?”

  The priest’s smile faded somewhat. “Uh oh.”

  “Uh oh what?” Jackie said, only partially able to keep her rising frustration and impotent rage out of her voice. Now she had a whole new appreciation for the plight of Dr. John Watson. Damn you Sherlock, she thought idly. The humor helped her keep the frustration at bay, helped her keep trying to understand, for whatever that was worth with this detective priest.

  The priest’s eyes softened with a compassion that appeared to Jackie like an enraging pity. Damn you Sherlock, she thought with a greater intensity and tried to relax, tried to think.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, miss.” The priest made a placating gesture with both hands, palms out, “Uh oh if you didn’t get the message, its likely your friends won’t either, so we might have both of the sides shooting at us.” Then he added, “If there’s anyone on your side left, that is.”

  Jackie ground her teeth. “What message?” Jackie did not scream it, managing a clipped cadence forced through clenched jaws. Nor did she scream “Damn you Sherlock!” which was what was thundering through her mind.

  The priest continued as if he were feeling bad for showing off, like he was trying to make the chess game against the moron end as painlessly as possible. “My unbelievable performance hinted that I was not really your captor. By your acceptance of my obvious ruse, and by your willingness to accept that ruse and extend it, you hinted that we were working together… that you were doing so willingly.” He smiled hopefully.

  Like Watson, Jackie understood, but only after the full explanation. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I will not say ‘by Jove!’ I will not say it… she huffed out the breath. ”Okay. Some of that might have come across.” She rolled her eyes, “Even to us mere humans.”

  He gave her a self-conscious shrug that was half apology.

  “But what about your friends?” Jackie asked, “Aren’t they all super geniuses like you? Won’t they get your message loud and clear?”

  “Good point!” The priest said, as if it had not occurred to him while they were still on the street. Jackie’s internal cursing of the legendary Sherlock Holmes grew both darker and more elaborate.