The other guardsman took a closer look at us when I said it, and his eyes widened. “It’s them!” he exclaimed, giving the first man a slap on the arm. “Call it in, Andy.”
While one of the guards contacted his commander on his radio, Alders caught my attention with a look.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “If Captain Armstrong finds out we’re here, he’s going to want to bring us in for debriefing. It’ll be a week before we see the light of day.”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take.” I pointed in the general direction of the deli. “Putnam was right; there’s probably nothing left of the place except ash. I doubt there’s anything there we can find out on our own, but maybe CSU managed to pick something up. We need that information if we’re going to make any headway.”
“Then why didn’t we just head for the precinct?” she asked.
“Because Putnam’s got a GPS tracker on us. If he sees we’re heading there, he’ll know the jig is up.”
“Tracker? Your pendant?”
“No.” I patted it under my shirt. “He wouldn’t try the same trick twice. I don’t know how or where, but I’ll bet my bottom dollar he’s monitoring our movements.”
“How do you know?”
I grimaced. “It’s his style.”
Shaking her head, Alders said, “I don’t know why I bother asking. Why aren’t we trying to find it and disable it?”
“It’s better this way,” I said. “As long as we continue to let him think we’re doing what he wants, he won’t interfere and, more importantly, he won’t pack up his tents and set up someplace else.”
* * *
We were taken to a mobile command center where we were offered coffee and donuts. I consumed a little more than my share, but didn’t feel guilty about it at all.
After speaking with three military officers, four police officers, and one very grumpy desk sergeant, we finally got in touch with Captain Armstrong’s receptionist—by that time, she informed us that the captain was aware of us. After we insisted we couldn’t go down to the station, she told us he was on his way to us.
Less than two hours after we first spoke with the guardsmen, we were face-to-face with Captain Armstrong.
“First,” he said, his face drawn sternly, “I’m glad you two are still alive. However—”
“How did we get out of there?” I supplied.
He gave a terse nod, and I told him an abbreviated version of our escape with Putnam’s aid.
“That damned priest,” the captain said, reddening. He would probably take some serious flak for losing a prisoner, even under extraordinary circumstances.
I explained that Putnam was just as crazy as everyone thought he was. “He’s developing some kind of biological agent that he plans on releasing once it’s ready,” I said. “He believes he can target just the terrorists, but the reality is, thousands of innocent people will die.”
“As if I don’t already have enough problems with this terrorist getting our own citizens to murder one another,” the captain said acerbically. “All right, I need both of you to come back to the precinct for a full debrief.”
“No can do, Captain,” I said. “If we do that, Putnam will disappear.”
“I don’t know about that,” the captain said. “Give me his address and I’ll send a few squad cars—”
“By the time you get there, he’ll be gone. I’m pretty sure he’s got a GPS tracker on us; maybe even eyes. We took a big chance coming to talk to you as it is.”
“Why did you?”
I said, “We need to string Putnam along a little while longer. The only way to keep him thinking we’re working for him is to bring him something. I need to know if forensics found anything we can take back with us. Even a name or address of one of the dead men in the building would be enough to keep us in his good graces for another day.”
The captain gave me a haggard look. “We got nothing. There was some DNA trace, but nothing showed up in any of our databases when we ran it. The paper trail is a dead end as well. Neither the landlord, nor the deli owner have any connection we can find. What about you?” he asked. “Is there anything you can give us?”
I sighed and made a face. “Aside from what I told the officer in command what I could about them, no.”
“What led you here in the first place?” Captain Armstrong asked. “I thought you were chasing down Putnam’s computer hacker.”
“We found where Putnam set up shop, but there was no sign of any of his people there. We found a food receipt for the deli, and just took a chance.”
The captain hissed through his teeth. “Some chance.”
“Yeah.”
Giving me a thoughtful look, Captain Armstrong said, “I’d dearly love to get Father Putnam back in custody.”
“If we spook him, we’ll never find out where his lab is. Believe me, the moment I get an address, I’ll call you.”
“All right.” He took out a card from the inside pocket of his jacket and wrote on the back of it. Handing it to me, he said, “My private cell number.”
“Thanks.” I took the card. “I need one more favor.”
“What’s that?”
I pointed at Alders. “I need you to lift her suspension. She’s essential to the investigation.”
Giving Alders a long, hard look, he said, “All right. Done.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Say, Hollingsworth,” the captain said, and there was an odd note in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“What really happened last night? I mean, I heard a few strange reports: cars flying into the air, weapons rusting. We had to send one young officer home; he kept babbling about insects laying eggs in his ears…”
I made a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know. When that gas main blew, lots of things happened. If guns are rusting, maybe the officers should be drilled on cleaning procedures.” With a shrug, I said, “What can I say about your young officer; some people just can’t handle being under fire.”
“Yeah, that’s probably all it is,” the captain said. “Look, I’ve got a meeting with the Deputy Chief in half an hour. Keep me apprised.”
“Will do, Captain.”
When we headed back to our rides, I thought I heard the captain speak in a bewildered tone. “Scooters…”
Once we were out of earshot, Alders asked, “What now?”
“Now we do what we said we’d do.”
She put her helmet on. “You’ve told a lot of people a lot of different things that we’re going to do. Which one are you talking about?”
“We find out where the Bellator has set up shop.”
“But we don’t have any leads,” Alders said.
“We have one.”
She cocked her head at me. “We do? What is it?”
“I think I know who he is.”
“He…? You know? How? Who is he?”
I donned my helmet and got on the scooter. Before I started it, I said, “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
“After that performance?” she said, jerking her thumb back at the command center. “I’ve heard some of the best liars in the city spin some pretty intricate tales, but I gotta say, you’ve got them all beat. You mixed half-truths with outright lies, skipped over most of the actual facts, and the captain swallowed the whole thing; hook, line, and sinker.”
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” she said sourly.
Squinting at her, I said, “You can stay here, if you like.”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Chapter Twenty-One
And no request that they, their fathers, make of thee shall be granted unto their fathers on their behalf; for they hope to live an eternal life, and that each one of them will live five hundred years.
–Book of Encoh 10:10-11
When we arrived at the apartment complex, we locked our scooters against parking meters.
My breathing r
ate increased, my pulse quickened, and I felt my skin grow damp with sweat as I looked up at the face of the building. It hadn’t changed much in the past two decades.
“What are we doing here?” Alders asked. “This can’t be where the Bellator is.”
I said, “It was supposed to be a trial by fire.”
“What was?” Alders gave me puzzled look.
“At least,” I continued, “that’s what the desk sergeant called it when he handed out the assignment to the four of us on our first day…”
* * *
By the time I told the story to her, my voice had become nothing more than a rasp. During the retelling, I brought her up to the room where her father had died. We knocked on the door and asked the tenant—a young man who looked like he was well into a good buzz—if we could look around. Our badges and the threat of arrest convinced him to be accommodating. He went into another room and gave us some privacy.
Alders didn’t interrupt throughout the tale. When I finished, her reaction was exactly what I expected.
She tried to keep her tears to herself, but the sounds of crying were hard to hide.
“He was the true hero.” I spoke resolutely. “Throughout the entire situation, he was cool and in charge. If not for him, the baby would not have survived. The review board had it wrong.”
Shaking my head, even though I knew Alders couldn’t see it, I continued. “No one could have guessed what the mother would do. Maybe a more experienced officer might have anticipated something like that … but you have to believe me when I say that I replay that scene in my head every day. There was no way I could have stopped her; I’d just shot the husband, and I was turned away from her and your father. Still, I curse myself for not being able to do anything more.” I took in a deep breath. “It all happened so fast.”
Trying to control the emotion in her voice, she said, “I believe you, Frank. Thank you for telling me.”
“No; I should have followed up long ago and spoken with you and your mother. I guess I’ve been too wrapped up in my own grief, I just didn’t think about how hard it’s been for you all these years.”
She brushed away her tears. “So what does this have to do with the Bellator?”
I didn’t want to say anything on that subject while we were in the young man’s apartment in case he was listening in. I gestured to Alders that it was time for us to leave. Closing the apartment door behind us, we made our way back down to the street and stood beside our scooters.
“The boyfriend,” I said, mindful of anyone else in the vicinity who might overhear. “The father of the baby. His name was Jared Tomko. I’ll never forget his face. I see it every night in my nightmares.”
“What about him…?”
I turned to face Alders. “The Bellator is the spitting image his father. The Bellator is the baby from that day. I know it in my heart.”
Shaking her head vehemently, Alders said, “How can that be?”
“I’ve been thinking about this since last night.” I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts. “From everything I’ve been told by Anderson and the others, there are only two ways a fallen angel can join with a host.
“The second one first,” I said. “In the event a host dies, the spirit of the angel possessing that person will transfer to the nearest host in the same bloodline.”
Alders said, “Like with Semjaza jumping from Sam Lancaster to his cousin, Stanley.”
“Right.” I held up one finger. “The first way is when a Watcher breaks out of the Abyss and possesses someone. In order for that to happen, there must be some kind of blood sacrifice to draw him out.”
Alders paled. “Blood sacrifice?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I believe, originally, the baby was supposed to be the sacrifice. Stella Markowitz was going to kill her newborn child to call the spirit of a fallen angel into her. Only, when I killed the father, the Watcher went into the baby. The scream he let out was … ungodly.”
“Oh, my…” Alders said, holding a hand to her mouth. “You mean this child was possessed from the time he was born?”
“…And spent his entire life with the power inside him.” I blew out a sharp breath. “Somehow, he’s managed to hide the secret all these years, up until now.”
She gave me a wide-eyed look. “I didn’t understand what he was talking about last night when I heard him say the purge was necessary, that more of his brethren needed to cross. That’s why he wants people to kill each other. If enough blood is shed, there will be a higher rate of fallen angels who can break out of their prison.”
“Right.”
“So,” Alders said, “how do we stop him?”
“We have to find him first, and that’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
I nodded. “We need to track down the baby through child services. If he were placed in an orphanage, or foster home, there would be a record. I can’t access those, but you should be able to.”
“That’s why you wanted me off my suspension,” she said.
I smiled and put my helmet on.
* * *
We tried to find an internet café that was still open, but the first one that hadn’t been boarded up was packed wall to wall. After a second stop, we decided to head for a public library. We were in luck; when we arrived, there were several available workstations.
I didn’t want to go back to the precinct; if Putnam had a tracker on us, any further contact with the police would raise his suspicions.
While Alders logged in to the police database and worked on tracking down the Bellator’s history, I sat in front of another workstation and logged into the message board Eugene Yates had set up.
To my consternation, there were no replies to the message I’d written yesterday morning. It didn’t even look as if anyone had read it. A dozen scenarios played through my mind to explain why, but in the end, it could have been something simple enough as Yates just being distracted by a video game. My panicking wasn’t going to achieve anything.
I didn’t remember any of their cell phone numbers; they’d all been programmed into my phone, which was stolen. I didn’t have any other way of contacting Anderson and the others besides the message board. Debating whether I should write another update, I decided to go ahead and do it.
I typed, “It’s more than just a family reunion back home. It seems everyone’s been invited. You all should be here; you don’t want to miss the party.”
Logging off, I went back and stood behind Alders. “Anything?”
“Plenty.” She pointed at the computer screen. “The child was taken in by child services, who brought him to an orphanage. They named him John and gave him the mother’s last name, Markowitz.
“He was never adopted because he had a history of violent interaction with the other orphans. The few attempts at placing him with a foster family were disastrous. John frequently abused any pets in the household by trapping them with other animals, making them fight each other, sometimes to the death.
“As he got older, he was able to manipulate his foster parents into fighting with each other. There are several incidents of assault and battery, restraining orders, divorces.
“At the age of ten, he was sent to a youth correctional facility after convincing two of his bunkmates to attack one of the staff of the orphanage during class. The teacher died.
“He lasted two months in juvie before he broke out, and that’s where the trail ends … except for one side note: the correctional center burned down the same week John escaped.”
She looked up at me. “John was the prime suspect in the arson. After that, it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.”
“Hmmn,” I said.
“Hmmn, what?”
I scratched at the stubble starting to grow on my chin. “There has to be a record of him somewhere. Not just because of his criminal history, but because of the Watcher inside him. Think of it, a teenage boy with all that power. He’s got to get into trouble somehow. I can�
�t see how he wouldn’t.”
Shrugging, Alders said, “I can only tell you what I see here.”
“What about looking for someone named John Tomko. Maybe he’s using his father’s name as an alias.”
Alders typed the name into the computer. “There could be dozens or even hundreds of names in the—” She made a surprised sound. “…Or three in New York City. Let’s see, two of them are too old. Here we go: John Tomko…”
A red flashing square appeared on the database entry: Restricted.
“What’s that mean?” Alders asked.
“It means you need higher clearance than you’ve got. Did you check the National Crime Information Center?”
She switched databases, logged in, and entered Tomko’s name. “Same thing. Restricted. Probably by the FBI.”
“I could really use Yates for this,” I said, and Alders gave me a questioning glance. “Let’s run a regular web search.”
Alders did so. Only one entry came up.
“That explains it,” I said.
The search result was from a newspaper article dated two months ago about Servicios de seguridad premier, a South American private security company that was implicated in the razing of a small village and the deaths of a dozen civilians.
“I’ve seen that company in the news quite a bit. They’re corporate mercenaries.” I spat. “Hired guns.”
John Tomko, the leader of the team, had been confronted by a reporter, but gave no comment.
Alders searched the company’s website, but there was no listing for Tomko. I presumed, with his identity revealed, he was of limited use in any future covert operations. If he wasn’t canned, he’d be taken out of the field. I could only speculate how he’d gotten involved in such an organization.
“Well,” Alders said, “I don’t see how any of this is going to help us track him down.”
“What was your first impulse yesterday when you found out you’d been put on administrative leave?”
“Chocolate?” Alders suggested. When I pursed my lips, she said, “I just wanted to go home.” She shook her head. “Tomko doesn’t have a home.”
“Sure he does,” I said, and pointed at the computer. “What’s the address of the orphanage?”
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 93