by Greg Curtis
At least they were gone he thought. Heading somewhere further down the hall by the sounds of their voices, as they continued their discussion. A discussion that was getting louder despite the fact that they were moving away. But it was a relief, especially when it might mean that some actual medical people might visit him soon and tell him how badly he was injured. He was somewhat concerned about that. Besides, he could use the peace.
Then Cassie walked in and he knew he wasn't going to get any. Garrick barely managed to suppress a groan as she walked straight up to his bed. Just when he'd thought he couldn't be in any more trouble.
“Cassie.”
He greeted her politely – there was no real choice in that unless he wanted a frozen tongue. But she wasn't his favourite person just then. She had after all brought Katarinka to him, and everything that had gone wrong for him could be traced back to that mistake. Even his getting shot. He would have been so much better off if he had never seen her.
“Garrick. I had heard that you were ill and I wanted to check on you.”
It was true of course. Cassie couldn't or wouldn't lie. But she could still fool him – in fact she was remarkably good at it. But this time she wasn't fooling him at all. He guessed her game.
“And the other reason?”
“I was worried about Katarinka.”
Her words surprised him. Angels didn't usually worry about anyone. Not their charges anyway. They worried instead about what they might do. The mistakes they might make. And besides, he hadn't seen the girl since he'd dropped her off. What could he tell her? That the girl was a pain in the arse? She probably knew that anyway.
“She's safe for the moment in the Academy. Patricia will watch over her like a hawk. And she knows the danger.” And then he thought for a moment as he realised that an angel had come calling on him to check up on her. They didn't generally do that. Actually they never did that. After all, it might violate their precious rules. “Unless there's something else you know that might be important?”
“The man she was with. The criminal, Armando Benedict. He's been asking after her. He’s also been asking after the other students in the school.”
That Garrick knew, was bad. The fact that an angel was warning him made it worse. He also knew why Armando was taking such an interest in the academy. It didn't take a huge amount of intelligence to understand that the thief had guessed that there was something different about the Westlord Academy. What would take considerably more brain cells than Garrick had working just then, was to figure out how much the thief knew and what he would do with that knowledge? After all, he had a long history of using people and then discarding them. And there were a lot of other students at the Academy with abilities that would be of even greater value to him than a key. They would be a temptation to a man like him. If he had found out about them.
“Can you tell Patricia that please? I'm sort of laid up at the moment and she needs to know. The children need to be watched.”
“She has been told. But you with your skills could help her by following this man.”
And there Garrick finally understood the main reason for her visit.. She wanted him to keep watch over Benedict. Find out what he was planning for the girl and make sure he couldn't do it. And she was right; It was something he normally could do very well. Better than an angel in fact since their own rules prevented them from involving themselves in human matters unless specifically instructed to by their boss.
Of course while he could act with a little more freedom, the fact that Cassie had asked him to – or at least suggested that he should, was cause for concern. The Choir didn't normally direct their wayward children to act unless it had something to do with their own business. And they never directed them to act in human affairs. That for them would be the same as acting themselves, and they would not do that.
Then again, she hadn't suggested that he act. Only that he observe. And if he did act it would only be in nephilim matters. He could do that and she could allow it. She had after all directed him to bring one nephilim to school. Still, for her even to have gone that far, to have stretched her rules all the way to their edge, that had to mean she was worried. It would also mean that if he stepped over the line in any way such as interfering with Benedict, she would be all over him. But still he wondered if there was something larger at play than he knew.
“And what would you have me do about Benedict?” He asked because he wanted to see how far she was willing to go.
“Nothing of course. You know the rules. You could simply observe and give warning. No more.”
Garrick sighed. He did know the rules, as frustrating as they usually were, and in this case he understood them perfectly. Since Cassie had come to him with the idea, that made him potentially her agent. He could do nothing at all to prevent Benedict acting. He could only observe and warn. But in truth he couldn't even do that.
“I can't follow him. Not like this.” Which brought up an obvious point.
“I don't suppose you could do a little bit of healing?” He asked even though he already knew the answer.
“You know the rules.”
Cassie actually managed to look suitably surprised by his question, as if it was shocking that he should even have asked. And maybe it was. He did know the rules. It was within her compass, but nothing could be allowed to give away the presence of the nephilim or angels on Earth. And a miraculous healing would do just that. Especially if it was him who was healed. After all, from what he understood he was already the next thing to front page news and there were reporters clamouring for an interview. He could guess the headlines. “Fed Shot By Treasury.” A miracle cure on top of that would be all they needed.
“I know. It was just a small hope.” But of course it had never been a hope at all. Not a real one anyway.
“Which means that since I'm likely to be here for a while you'll have to find another hunter.”
That of course would be difficult. Among the gifts that the children got from their angelic parents, some were less common than others. The gift for languages was very common. The gift for hunting quite rare.
“That would – .”
“I know, the damned rules.” Garrick barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes Bloody angels and their damn Rules!
Garrick cut her off before she could say the rest. He knew the story. Angels obeyed their precious rules, and they didn't interfere with humans without specific instructions. The only reason she could be here with him asking for him to act was because he was a nephilim and she was asking him to act on behalf of another nephilim on a matter he was already involved in. And of course he would not be doing anything except reporting back to more nephilim so that they could protect one of their own. Even that was stretching things for her he suspected. To involve yet another of the nephilim, one who was not in any way associated with the situation, was going too far. She would be indirectly interfering. So he had to find another way around the problem.
“Cassie the town and the school are well protected. So unless Benedict has some edge we don't know about the girl will be safe. Does he have an edge?”
What he really wanted to ask was if the crook was one of them – it was the only thing that made sense given what he seemed to be able to do. But of course, that couldn’t be right either, for if he was then the Choir would have been able to control him directly. If Benedict was one of them he would have been stopped fifty years before.
“He has knowledge and cleverness and worse than that an unfailing ability to make poor choices.”
“I know he's clever and does bad things, but this knowledge – what exactly does he know?”
That Garrick realised was the only thing that mattered in everything she'd said. It was what she'd been edging around without actually saying. Because Cassie wasn't just talking about the girl.
Maybe the thief wasn't just guessing that there were others like Katarinka at the school. Maybe he knew their secret. Just how much knowledge of the nephilim
did Benedict have? How much more than just the fact that there were keys? Obviously something of their existence was out there, but not much, and most importantly, not who they were. If he had that they were all in trouble.
“A lot of knowledge. Knowledge that he shouldn't have.”
“He knows that there are nephilim?”
“He has that knowledge.” Cassie nodded, confirming her words. And confirming one thing more – that she was worried what he would do with that knowledge. Benedict was no longer a threat to just one of them. He threatened them all.
It was something that she could do nothing about. Her hands were tied Garrick realised. She could not stop the ageing thief in doing anything he chose to do. Not if he was simply a normal human being. Again, the rules prevented it. Angels were not permitted to interfere with human free will.
Nor could she send the nephilim after Benedict to stop him. That would simply be acting through a proxy and she couldn't do that either. But she could still guess that he would use his knowledge in a very bad way. And since she couldn't stop him, the only thing she could do was warn his potential victims – if only because they were nephilim. That at least she could do.
“Then the only ones who can track him down and work out what he's up to are the hunters. And I'm the only local hunter and I'm also laid up for a while. So the responsibility is mine. I'll contact the Council and see if they can get hold of someone.”
It was the only thing he could do and he would do it. But he still wasn't sure if there was another hunter available. Or if they would take what he told them seriously. They should. The number of times one of the Choir came to warn them of something and suggest a course of action were so few they could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The fact that Cassie had done so spoke volumes about how worried she had to be. That in turn worried him. And the fact that she was talking about the children just made it worse.
“That would be wise.”
With that Cassie left him, vanishing in plain sight in the middle of the ward. Garrick had to wonder at that. She'd done it before, and each time it had felt like a direct violation of the rules, as in doing so she seemed to be revealing herself to humans. But it never had been. Because no one ever saw her. Which left him lying there wondering just what exactly the other patients had seen of their conversation?
Him lying there talking to himself? But if that was the case they didn't seem to be too concerned about it. In fact none of them were even looking his way. One was staring at the double doors through which his visitors had left them. One was staring out the window. And the third was reading some car magazine. As far as he could tell they hadn't seen or heard anything. Or at least he hoped they hadn't. That they weren't just lying there pretending not to have noticed the mad man in the other bed talking to himself.
After Cassie had gone though, Garrick found himself wondering about something else. Why else had she come? It wasn't that he doubted what she'd said. Certainly she was concerned for the girl and had also wanted to check up on him. She was also definitely worried about the danger Benedict presented to them all. It was just that he doubted that that was all there was to it. There was something more he suspected. But of course what her other reasons might be he would probably never be told.
That was the trouble with angels. They never told you everything. Or one of the many troubles they came with.
In any event that wasn't his concern for the moment. For now his sole concern after he'd phoned the school, had to be to recover from being shot – which thankfully it sounded like he was expected to do – and then try to find out all he could about the killing of a Treasury agent. Since he hadn't killed the man, his hope was that he would have an alibi for the time and day in question. He should be able to. After all, most of his days were busy ones and he kept copious notes. But it was still a sad day when he had to. He was an agent and proud of it. Not a murdering criminal.
But even as he worried about that, another question was bothering him. How could anyone believe any of this insanity? Where would they even have come up with such a bizarre idea? It made no sense.
Chapter Nine
Agent Barnes stood in his supervisor's office and tried not to look nervous. He was still sore from the injuries he'd taken during the shoot out, though he was doing better than his colleagues. Watkins was still in critical care. He was expected to recover but it would be a long slow road. He had taken a bullet in the neck and it had damaged his vertebrae. He was lucky to be alive let alone with feeling left in his arms and legs. As for Johnson, his vest had taken six bullets and several ribs had been broken from the impacts. The real damage however, had been done when he'd been tackled by the FBI agents and had knocked his head on the ground. The concussion was serious and he hadn't yet woken up. The doctors still weren't completely certain that he would.
It had all gone wrong – badly wrong – and he still didn't understand how. But he was certain it wasn't their fault. Everything had been by the book. Even before the take down. They had trained thoroughly. Learning to spot tails, to make sure their phones weren't tapped and their mail wasn't bombed. They'd worked hard on their counter surveillance because they knew just how dangerous the man was that they were up against. They'd also been on the gun range every day, learning to use heavy calibre weapons and to fire accurately under any circumstances. To fire while advancing or retreating and still hit what they were aiming at. Again it had been required. And they had sent their families and loved ones away to safety so that they couldn't be targeted. Living with the threat of a sudden violent death had focussed them on their work.
Then when the day had finally arrived, though they'd been nervous, they'd known they were ready. So they had driven up to join the others to make the arrest only to find out the hard way that there were no others. Everyone else had been an FBI agent, though at first they hadn't known that. And to make matters worse they'd arrived in the middle of an actual take down. That wasn't right. It was supposed to be an FBI training day. A training day that had been set up specifically to lure Hamilton into a vulnerable position far from any of his confederates. Something had gone wrong. Very wrong.
They should have been informed that there was an actual operation in place. Thomison should have called off the take down the instant he knew. But they hadn't been called off, and no one had told them that they were driving right into a real operation. That was the first big mistake and Barnes knew it wasn't theirs. And from it everything else had gone wrong.
The original plan had been that the three of them would drive in, sirens blaring, while the rest of the task force would be waiting for their entrance. The three of them were to provide the distraction which would allow the rest of the team to take Hamilton down quickly and safely. Meanwhile everyone who was there should either have been FBI agents who had been informed of what was happening, or Treasury agents dressed as FBI, to allay his suspicions. It was an elaborate plan but well planned. Hamilton should have found himself surrounded by fifteen Treasury agents, all with guns pointed at him. He should have been taken.
But instead they'd driven up exactly on time and straight into the middle of a gun battle where they'd had absolutely no idea who was shooting at whom. There were just people in the woods shooting at other people in the woods. There was automatic fire coming from all directions. And the operation was going to hell. But they couldn't allow that to stop them. Because the one thing they knew was that they couldn't allow Hamilton to escape. If he did he would hunt them down and kill them in time. The panicking voice on the phone plugged into the car system kept telling them that.
Agent Thomison had shouted repeatedly at them that they were in danger. That Special Agent Hamilton had obviously not been caught by surprise after all, and that he had prepared his own ambush for them. That their fellow agents were in danger. Thomison had also yelled at them that Hamilton could never allow any of them to leave these woods alive. That to do so would blow his cover. So Hamilton and his men were going to kill them
all. It was the last thing the agent had shouted at them before the phones had all gone dead. And it was then that they'd known that they had to catch him. It was that or everyone died. They had to protect their fellow agents.
So they'd got out of the car under fire, tracked down their quarry who was busy shooting at someone in a cabin, and taken him down. Exactly as they'd been required to. They had to protect the others. They were heroes! But then absolutely everyone had started shooting at them and they'd had to return fire.
After that things had got worse. They'd been shooting at everyone and everyone had been shooting at them. There had been no clear delineation between who was Treasury, who was FBI and who were Hamilton’s men. It had just been chaos. And they simply hadn't been prepared for that.