by Jon F. Merz
“Because I was trying to keep from yakking my guts out all over his house.” Curran sighed. “Couldn’t be helped. Maybe he’ll just write it off.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No. I don’t. He’ll know.”
“And if he does know…” Lauren’s voice trailed off.
Curran nodded. “He’ll try to accelerate his schedule.”
“If he can.”
“Are you thinking he might not have any control over who he kills and when he does it?”
“Perhaps,” said Lauren. “Maybe Satan himself speaks to Darius and lets him know when to kill again.”
“Great,” said Curran. “I’ve heard of a lot of killers claiming the Devil made them do it. This is the first time I’ve actually been inclined to believe it.”
“But you see that gives us a little room to work with.”
“How so?”
“If Darius doesn’t kill until he’s commanded to, that means there is some kind of rhyme or reason to this resurrection business. It’s not just the idle musings of some deranged fool. Satan cannot return to this plane until certain requirements have been fulfilled.”
“Sounds like a college course,” said Curran with a grin.
She looked at him. “Glad to see your sense of humor survived the run in with the vat.”
“Me, too,” said Curran. “Do you think that vat is some kind of special device built especially for the purpose Darius seems to be using it for?”
“It could be,” said Lauren. “I’ve found no mention of it in anything the Church has written down. But then again, that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been designed and made thousands of years before the Church.”
“You mean another religion?” She kept surprising him. He expected her to defend and promote the Catholic Church to the exclusion of everything else.
Lauren nodded. “It’s entirely possible. The Roman Catholic Church isn’t the only religion on the planet, nor is it as all-powerful as some believe.”
“This from a would-be nun,” said Curran. “Amazing.”
“It’s not amazing at all,” said Lauren. “It’s simply reality. There have been hundreds of other religions, thousands of other gods around before belief in Jesus Christ evolved. And most of those other religions have their own version of the Devil.”
“So maybe another religion devised this big jar for the purpose of vomiting the evil souls of people into it?”
“And then helping their version of the Devil come back to this world, yes.”
Curran finished his water. “Great.”
Lauren smiled. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking how if I’d known all those years ago what kind of bullcrap this case would have spelled out for me, I would have requested a transfer to an FBI SWAT team.”
“Isn’t that incredibly dangerous?”
Curran looked at her. “I’m trying to judge which one is worse: getting shot to death or messing around with Satan.”
“Tough choice,” said Lauren. “And even if you had known, would you really have chosen another path?”
“I might have.”
She grinned. “I think you would have stayed exactly where you were regardless of what the outcome would be.”
“You know me that well?”
“Getting to, yes.”
“Really.”
“Steve, you might think and say things like that, but you wouldn’t actually do it. You are one of the few men in this world that I know of who don’t actively try to steer clear of a challenge. You don’t necessarily rush at them head-on, but if you know what’s got to be done, you do it, regardless of the personal cost.”
“I wouldn’t say regardless,” said Curran. “Personal cost can be a real bitch to put up with.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Lauren. “But that still doesn’t take away from what I said. You know as well as I do that your path is what it is because you chose to follow it.”
“If that’s so, then by your definition, I chose to get fired by the FBI.”
“By virtue of pursuing Darius even when it became apparent you were getting nowhere. Yes.”
Curran shook his head. “I don’t know. I loved the FBI.”
“Did you really?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe a part of you loved the Bureau. It attracts people because of the prestige. But maybe there was an aspect you didn’t like at all. Maybe you knew deep down inside that you wouldn’t want to stay there much longer.”
“And what – the case became my excuse to leave by way of getting fired?”
Lauren nodded.
Curran looked at her. “That’s one helluva theory.”
“It might prove itself true, you never know.”
“And it might hold no water whatsoever.”
Lauren smiled. “Maybe.” She pointed. “Only you can decide whether it does or not.”
“You never mentioned you were some kind of pop psychology whiz kid.”
“Pet hobby of mine,” said Lauren. “Impressed?”
“I’d be more inclined to amazement if I wasn’t the guinea pig under the microscope.”
“Wow, that’s one incredible mixed metaphor.”
Curran shook his head. “Jeez, you’re an English teacher, too?”
Lauren waved the comment off. “What are we going to do next - now that we’ve got Darius possibly thinking we’re on to him?”
“I still don’t have any kind of evidence to do things the right way, as much as I’d like to.”
“I thought by-the-book had gone out the window.”
“It did earlier today,” said Curran. “That doesn’t mean I intend to make a habit out of it.”
“But you will if there’s no alternative.”
“Of course.” He didn’t feel comfortable doing it, but Darius had to be stopped. Legally or not.
“You know the best thing to do is to destroy that vat.”
“What - you mean break it?”
“Yes. But we’d also have to dispose of all the evil Darius has spent all these years gathering inside of it.”
“And how do we do that?”
Lauren frowned. “We could pour it down the drain?”
“Uh,” said Curran. “Part of me thinks Darius might find a way to have some sort of resurrection ceremony down at the sewage treatment facility. That wouldn’t be good.”
“We don’t have many other alternatives.”
“So if we break this vat and somehow dispose of the contents,” said Curran. “What’s to stop Darius from going off on another killing spree for the next decade.”
“You.”
“Me.”
Lauren nodded. “You can stop him.”
“I take it you’re not talking about putting him in jail.”
“No.”
“I didn’t know the Church sanctioned killing.”
“It doesn’t. And I don’t.”
“But you’ll make an exception in this case.”
“Considering how many innocent lives will be lost if the resurrection comes to pass, yes. I think anyone would be able to justify killing Darius.”
“Sure, They might. Only problem is that convincing people that Satan is really coming back might prove a little difficult.”
“Well, we can either not worry about it and deal with him, or we can let Darius continue with his scheme and people will see soon enough what kind of hell can be unleashed here on earth.”
Curran smirked. “You make a convincing argument.”
“I wish I didn’t have to.”
“Makes two of us,” said Curran.
“You’re worried though.”
“Damn straight. It’s my gun going bang at Darius, not yours. And even if that theory about me not really liking the FBI holds true, the same can’t be said about the Boston Police Department. I do like working there.”
“I
understand.”
“I don’t think you do, Lauren. Believe me, I want Darius put away as bad as you do, but there are things that have got to be played down correctly, not by going off on some badly played out shoot ‘em up.”
“And if it comes down to putting a bullet into him?”
“I’ll shoot him if I have to, “said Curran. “Although I’m not sure how much good it’ll do. After all, he’s one of the Devil’s servants. Some sort of demon, right? You said he could only be hurt while in human form.”
“According to what we read in Westerly’s book, he can be.”
“What happens if we run into him as a demon?” An image he thought he’d seen before floated through his mind. Another fragment of the bad dream from the other night. He pushed it away.
“I’d rather not think about that right now.” She smiled. “So, we’ll destroy the vat?”
“Yeah,” said Curran. “I’m not crazy about pouring that gunk down the drain but I can’t think of anything else to do with it. Can you?”
“No.”
“Then it seems settled. We bust the vat up, smash the pottery or whatever it is, maybe grind up the pieces so it can’t be repaired, and then dump the goo.”
“How big was the vat?”
“Big. About five feet tall.”
“And wide?”
“Maybe two, three feet.”
“It will be heavy,” said Lauren.
“Yeah.”
“Will we be able to move it?”
Curran frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll have to do it somehow. We can’t very well leave all that crap down in his cellar. He could still do the ceremony or whatever to bring back Satan.”
“Would it be too weird to suggest a wet/dry vacuum cleaner?”
“Weird? Yes. You might have something there, though. Depends on how much gunk is in the vat itself and how much the vacuum can hold.”
“We’ll have to find out.”
“You really think they’re the souls of all the evil people Darius has killed over the years in that vat?”
Lauren nodded. “Very likely.”
“And you’ve got no ideas how to stop this guy if he turns into a demon?”
Lauren frowned. “I’m still researching it.”
“Don’t take too long,” said Curran. “We’ll have to stop him. And soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Curran contacted Kwon shortly after four that afternoon. At about the same time as the sun started tracking west toward the horizon. The forecast called for more rain tonight.
Kwon’s assistant answered on the third ring and told Curran he was doing an autopsy. Curran frowned. “Tell him it’s important.”
The assistant sighed. “There’s a corpse on the gurney, sir. Is this really important?”
“Just get him.”
Kwon came on the line a minute later, breathing heavily. “You’re making my people upset, you know that?”
“Tired of wading through the dead yet?”
“It’s my damned job. Why?”
“No reason. Just wondering if you were busy tonight.”
“Why, your hand turn you down for a date again?”
Always the card, Kwon was. Curran smiled anyway. “I need your help. Again.”
“My help.” There was a pause on the phone. “I thought I made it clear I wasn’t really cut out for that kind of thing.”
“You’re the only one who can help me, pal.”
“Can’t you take this to headquarters?”
Curran laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I can’t waltz into HQ and tell everyone I need help subduing a demon who’s trying to resurrect Satan.”
“Suppose not.”
“I’d be whisked away in a little white ambulance, locked up in a padded cell. It’s up to us now. You know it.”
Kwon sighed. “Yeah.”
“You in, then?”
“I’m in.”
“I’ll swing by in an hour.”
“Meet you downstairs.”
Curran ended the call and looked over at the passenger’s seat. Lauren sat staring out the window. “Kwon says hi.”
“Is he coming?”
“Reluctantly. But yeah.” Curran frowned. “Wish it wasn’t necessary to have him along.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“Trust’s got nothing to do with it. He’s a friend of mine. I don’t want the bastard getting hurt is all.”
“You think he might get hurt?”
Curran considered it. Given what Darius appeared to be, the danger seemed evident. “I don’t think Darius is going to be an easy mark to put down, let’s put it that way.”
“Then having Kwon along will probably help make it easier to tackle Darius, no?”
Curran shook his head. “Tell me something: does every single one of your ideas always make so much damned sense?”
“Not at all. I’m on a lucky streak is all,” said Lauren with a smile.
Curran nodded. “We’ve got an hour. You want something to eat?”
“What are our choices?”
“Fast food and less fast food.”
“You know anywhere we can sit down around here?”
“Not really. Burger King’s up the street. Wendy’s a block further on from there. Got some good cheeseburgers.”
Lauren frowned. “I’ll go there this once on one condition.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You take me out to a real dinner when this is all through.”
Curran smiled at her. “I’d love to take you out to a real dinner. I was afraid I only got one shot at that and I’d already blown it.”
Lauren shook her head. “You didn’t blow it, Steve. Maybe you just wanted things a little too soon.”
Curran smiled and drove the car further down Beacon Street. “Wendy’s or Burger King?”
***
They met Kwon an hour later down near the entrance to Government Center. His bluish greenish scrubs and white lab coat had vanished. He stood almost blending into the cement pillars holding up the courthouse wearing a gray windbreaker, a dark open-necked shirt and dark jeans with black sneakers.
He strolled down the steps toward them when he recognized the wave from Lauren. Curran watched him with a smile. Kwon knew how to move quickly without attracting attention.
Interesting.
He slid into the backseat and smiled at Lauren. “Good evening, Ms. Fields.”
“Kwon, please call me Lauren, okay.”
“Okay.” He turned to Curran. “What’s shakin’ muchacho?”
“We’re going to strike a blow for good, how does that sound to you?”
“I love a good blow,” said Kwon. He caught himself and slapped his forehead. “Oh, jeez, Lauren I’m sorry. I got a mouth like a sewer rat. Sometimes things just slip out.”
She laughed. “It’s okay, Kwon. I’m used to it. Besides, your joke was pretty funny.”
Kwon leaned back against the seat. “So, what’s the gig?”
“We’re paying Darius a visit.”
“Uh…and do what, exactly?”
“Stop him, of course.”
Kwon nodded. “Right.” He leaned a little closer to Curran’s headrest. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know if you noticed this or not but I’m more of a lover than a fighter. Dig? I don’t do much talking with my hands.”
“You’re more for show, okay?”
“Okay.” Kwon looked out the window. “So, what happens when we get there?”
“There’s something there we need to destroy.”
“You mean aside from the demon himself?”
“Uh huh.”
“What kind of something we looking for?”
“Some strange earthen jar that apparently contains the horrid putrid vomit of everyone he’s killed over the years.”
Kwon stayed quiet for a minute. “You freaking with me, Steve?”
“Not a chance, old buddy.”
“Five-year old vomit?”
“Some of it might be a lot older.” He shrugged. “Some of it might be aged like a fine wine. Say a hundred years?”
Lauren leaned back over the seat. “What we think is the vomit - what looks and smells like vomit – well, we think it may actually be the souls of the people this man has killed.”
“Their souls?”
Lauren nodded. “I know it sounds a bit strange.”
“Just a bit,” said Kwon. “But then again, I’m more of a believer than I suppose I oughta be. I’ll go along with whatever you guys say happened.”
“Thanks, Kwon,” said Curran.
“One question,” said Kwon. “If it’s their souls, how did it get to be vomit?”
Lauren looked back at Kwon again. “This man, this killer, he ingested their evil and then excreted it into the jar.”
“But it’s still vomit,” said Kwon.
“Looks that way,” said Curran.
“Man,” said Kwon. “I shoulda brought some gel for my nostrils.”
“Look at it this way,” said Curran. “At least you know ahead of time what the jar contains. I just opened it up and got the shock of my life.”
Kwon’s eyebrows danced. “You opened it?”
“Yeah.”
Kwon chuckled. “Cripes, did you lose your lunch or what?”
“Outside,” said Curran. “In the gutter.”
“And we’re destroying this jar?”
“Yep.”
“So what happens to the junk inside?”
“It goes down the drain,” said Curran. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”
“Gonna be smelly no matter what we do with it,” said Kwon. “Guess the local sewer will have to suffice.”
Curran found his way to the new westbound entrance to the Massachusetts Turnpike and headed for the Newton exit. They could double back toward Chestnut Hill from there.
Kwon nursed the bottle of water in the back, occasionally whistling to himself. In the front seat Lauren stared out the window of the car as they drove.
Curran kept both hands on the wheel and sighed. His life had gone from strange to worse in only a matter of days. He’d broken the law today for the first time in his life. He was in love with a woman who was about to become a nun. His closest friend was a bizarre medical examiner who acted more like a gigolo than anything else.