by Hopkin, Ben
“Darc, there’s something you need to know about,” Trey blurted. “Mala’s social worker… you know, the one that’s been all up in her grill? He’s a Mason.”
There wasn’t even a second’s pause. Darc was off and running toward the Land Rover. As much as Trey didn’t love following along behind his partner, this was more like it. Darc running meant that he had figured something out.
And some serious ass kicking was usually about to follow.
* * *
No amount of preparation could ever completely foresee every detail in a plan this large. The Intermediary knew this, and yet decided to go over it one more time.
This was the moment that would determine the future of Seattle for the next one hundred years. Bring the heroes of the city together. Give them a common cause, and then sit back and watch as they reshaped the world in their image.
Looking in the mirror, the Intermediary thought once more how unexpected it was that this vessel, the one reflected back in reverse on the glassy surface, would be the one to effect this change. It mattered nothing that no one would ever know of the Intermediary’s involvement. In fact, it was better this way.
Pride was a mirage, leading one to the place where water was promised, but leaving one stranded in the parched desert. There had been times when that path had tempted the Intermediary with its siren song. Times when it had seemed that no one else could ever be entrusted with a responsibility this large.
The idea for this had come, strangely enough, from watching a terrorist attack in the West Bank. There had been an explosion, and people had come to help the victims. Then another bomb had detonated, killing the helpers.
It was not an uncommon tactic. The Intermediary had seen it before.
But for whatever reason, in this moment it had clicked. The plan had been laid out, almost in its entirety, in that very instant.
Create a trap. But not one to punish or kill those who came forward. One to identify them.
Put the city together in one place, create a crisis, and then watch the results. Gather the saviors together. Create a utopia from the ashes of the burning dross.
It was so simple, it was stunning that it had never been attempted before.
The loss of life would be regrettable, but it was a necessary sacrifice the city was making in order to forge ahead into its glorious future. The fact that the sacrifice was not a willing one did not lessen its nobility.
Seattle was a base metal, filled with impurities. The only way to purge it of its flaws was to send it through the refiner’s fire. A cleansing heat to wipe away the stains of decades of deterioration.
It was time.
The players were all in place. The outcomes were determined.
Even the antagonists of the melodrama that was being staged would be an integral part of the storyline. When pride was taken off the table, even those who opposed the plan could become a part of it.
The Intermediary put the final touches on the apparel that would be worn this evening. The preparations were coming to a close.
The new Seattle awaited.
CHAPTER 23
Darc observed the layering of the glowing pathways in his mind as they were superimposed over the physical landscape around them. Cars grew in the windshield as Trey sped up behind them, looking for a pathway through the late afternoon traffic. His partner swore, swerving from lane to lane, fighting for speedier passage.
They had stopped by the judges’ office to grab the warrant. It allowed them to search Carson Speer’s home, his place of work, his computer, his emails, his phone records. It was comprehensive.
Darc saw the lines come together. The thread connecting the CSI intern, the Mayor’s assistant and the APA now opened up to include Mala’s social worker.
The conflict between Mala and Richard Templeton was information that Darc was aware of in a peripheral fashion. This was where the interaction of the strands of logic became so vital. What seemed of little importance became crucial in the blink of an eye.
The fact that the man was also a Freemason was not information that he had possessed. And it had made all the difference.
Mala’s involvement in this case had been kept to a minimum, and as a consequence, so had Janey. It was more and more clear to Darc that Janey had insights into this killer than Darc lacked.
There was the physical evidence that Darc could sort through with no difficulty. There was the social context that Trey provided… what he would call street smarts. There was the psychological perspective that Mala brought to understanding the interpersonal motivations of individuals and the tracking of their shifting allegiances within their social spheres.
And then there was Janey. Somehow, she was able to follow the inner emotional workings of the individuals she came into contact with, even if that contact was secondary. The information she had gleaned from the Mayor’s office was a prime example. By merely being exposed to the results of the killer’s mind at work, Janey had been able to predict his movements.
The killer must know that.
And now, because of the interference from the social worker, who was also a Freemason, the case was suffering. There was a causal link here.
The obvious choice would have been for them to go question the worker. But there were two reasons for not doing so. First, the threads seemed to indicate that the involvement there was minimal, perhaps even unconscious, on the part of Richard Templeton.
The other reason was more complicated, and rooted in that gray emotional landscape that Janey seemed to navigate so well. Darc didn’t want Mala to suffer the negative consequences if Darc were mistaken. In talking to her worker, Mala would be exposed in a way that could threaten her relationship with Janey.
That was unacceptable. It was also something that would not have entered into Darc’s assessments several months ago.
So now they were on their way to speak once more with Carson Speer. The APA, as a Master Mason, would have access to additional information about the brotherhood.
Trey was on the phone, calling ahead to the Prosecuting Attorney’s office, and the call did not seem to be going well. He had been placed on hold multiple times, and each time the expression on his face seemed to become more and more hardened. What that indicated was lost on Darc.
He needed Janey.
“What do you mean he’s not in?” Trey yelled into the phone. “We were there like ten minutes ago. Is he taking a late lunch or something?”
The response, although more than likely inaudible to anyone else, was clear to Darc’s perceptions, even over the noise of the Land Rover's engine. “He left right after you and your partner. Said he had to take a personal day.”
“He went home?”
“I think so,” came the muffled response.
“I’ll need that address,” Trey urged.
When the requested information came over the line, Trey swore once more. He hung up the phone and looked into each one of the mirrors, checking his blind spot as well. Taking a deep breath, he slammed on the brakes and pulled hard on the wheel, spinning them around one hundred and eighty degrees. They were now headed in the opposite direction.
Darc stared at his partner and Trey caught his look. He shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ve been practicing.”
Within minutes, they had arrived at the APA’s apartment. It was a high-rise building, one that housed many businessmen who were in town for an extended period of time, but not permanently. It may have been that Carson Speer was staying here as an interim measure, while he found something more long-term.
Or it could be that he was not planning on staying here in Seattle.
That strand of data merged with the others, filling in another gap in the tapestry of information. One more piece of the puzzle, leading to a more complete vision of the scenario they faced.
Carson Speer had been here long enough to find permanent housing. He had not.
Was it possible that he just had not had the time? Yes. Howeve
r, with the other information at hand, that seemed a less likely explanation.
They took the elevator up to the eleventh floor, where the APA’s apartment was located. They moved in on the number they’d been given, ready with the warrant in hand. But as they neared the door to his place, it was clear that it was ajar.
“Well, that’s not a good sign,” Trey muttered as they stood directly outside the entryway.
Darc felt the lines shift with that addition. He knew what they would find inside before Trey opened the door.
The reality was equal to the internal expectation, but the visceral nature of the crime was always more graphic.
Carson Speer was spread out, naked on the floor of his studio apartment. He was encircled by a hastily drawn pentagram, the symbol painted in the victim’s blood.
“Aw, shit,” Trey swore, as he moved into the apartment. Darc was on the point of holding him back, as there could have been traps laid for them. But on closer examination, everything about this scene had been hastily done.
The pentagram was closer to what had been depicted in the Mayor’s office than what they had found at any of the other sites. It was roughly drawn and not quite proportionate. There were no symbols or messages around the edges of the circle. Very little other than the actual circle and star to link it to the other crimes.
Glittering lines coursed through Darc’s mind. There was another problem here. The scene at the Mayor’s office had been unexpected, but the location had not been. While not quite as precise as the other crime scenes in terms of the proportions of the pentagram map of Seattle, it had been extremely close. Close enough that no one but Darc would probably notice.
But Carson Speer’s office was in the King County Courthouse, more than a block away from City Hall. This location was not on the map.
This could have been an impromptu killing, necessitated by Darc and Trey’s questioning of the APA earlier. But if that were true, why did it so closely resemble the scene at the Mayor’s office in City Hall?
Speer’s throat had been cut, but there appeared to be none of the other elements that had been a part of every other scene to date, other than the last one. The only body so far to escape the Masonic ritualistic mutilations had been the Mayor, who had been found before his death.
“Okay,” Trey said, looking down at the corpse. “This really pisses me off.”
That was confusing to Darc. “You are angered by his death?”
“Yeah. Well, no. Yeah. I mean, I knew there was something off about the guy, but…” his voice trailed off.
“His death seems to indicate that he was a part of the fraud.”
“Right,” Trey sighed. “I get that. It’s just… I thought he was the guy, you know? The killer.”
“Statistically it would have been improbable—”
“Screw statistics, Darc,” Trey moaned. “Everything in me was screaming that the guy was guilty.”
Then Darc saw it. Whether it was a residual effect of Janey’s drawing and the help she had given them or not, Darc could see Trey’s emotional pain. He understood, for a brief moment, the pain of feeling constantly less than another person.
No logic ruled here. It made no difference that Trey could do things that Darc could not even attempt. Trey felt less.
And Darc found that in understanding that pain, he wanted to help it go away.
“Your instincts were correct,” Darc reiterated. “Speer was guilty. And you understood that before I did.”
Trey looked up from the body, raising an eyebrow. Surprise or disdain? Considering the context, more than likely the former.
“That was… That was really nice, Darc. Thanks.”
Darc understood the words. He understood why Trey was saying them. But there was something profoundly confusing to Darc about what had been said.
What he could not understand was why those words had made him feel so good.
* * *
It was Halloween, and Janey was excited.
It was right after lunch recess, and Janey was headed back to her class. Everyone at school was wearing costumes, even the teachers. Janey had gone as a doctor, with Popeye as her patient, but no one seemed to understand. They all thought she was a veterinarian. Which made Popeye really mad. He kept saying he wasn’t an animal.
That made Janey laugh. He was a bear, after all.
He got so sensitive about it. And it really was silly. He was more than fine being a bear when someone needed to get bitten, or if there was a tree to climb. Then he would talk and talk and talk about how great it was to be a bear. But right now, when everyone was calling her a vet, he was pouting.
“Janey, I love your costume,” said Janice, who worked at the front desk of the school. “You’re a doctor, right?” She was super nice. Almost as nice as Mala, but not quite as pretty. Not that Janey would ever tell her that.
Well, if Janey was actually talking to anyone, that was.
Janey smiled and nodded, holding up her bear.
“Oh, I see you have a very handsome patient there. He looks like he’s bearly sick anymore.”
Janey giggled. That was funny. Even Popeye seemed to like Janice. Especially now that he was being treated as a real patient, and not some kind of sick dog.
Today was great. There were decorations everywhere, everyone had candy and Janey was going to get to go to the parade tonight. It was a Friday, so Mala had said she could stay up late. It was a nighttime parade. Janey had never been to one of those before.
She’d been to lots of daytime parades. Her mommy had loved them. Every Fourth of July, they would get up super early to get a spot on the parade route, so they could catch the candy that people would throw from the floats. Janey’s favorite one was always the one from the lumberjacks. There were lots of trees and big men in plaid shirts, like her daddy would wear camping.
But this was the first one at night. It was going to be so much fun.
One of the teachers, Mr. Franklin, dressed like Frankenstein for his name, growled at her, making her jump.
“Oh, I’m sorry sweetie. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He gave her a big smile and ruffled her hair. She smiled back at him. It was so funny to see how different people looked in their disguises.
There was something about that thought that bounced around Janey’s head, sparking up threads of colored light. She knew that meant there was something important she was thinking about, so she kept going.
Disguises.
When bad people did bad things, they wore disguises so no one would know who they were. Bank robbers from a long time ago would wear bandanas on their faces. Sometimes now they would wear masks.
But disguises weren’t always the same. Sometimes people pretended to be nice, but they weren’t. Like Father John. Or Bryce Van Owen. They had both tricked people into thinking they weren’t who they really were.
Janey had known with Bryce. There had been something about him that she didn’t trust, right from the start. But now she was getting better at it. She could see things.
And one of the things she saw was that there was a disguise. Something that the bad man Darc and Trey were chasing was using to keep people from seeing him.
She could almost picture it in her head. Almost explain what it was… who it was. But not quite.
If Darc were here, she would draw him a picture and he would start to see it. He would put his smarts together with hers and they would figure it out. Together.
But he wasn’t here.
That meant she had to get him a picture. Now. Which meant she was going to have to get Mala to do it. Which meant Janey was going to have to get into trouble.
Again.
But maybe this time, she wouldn’t have to. The principal had told her to come to him with her problems.
She didn’t quite trust that it would work, but it was worth a shot. If it didn’t, she could always get into trouble later.
Besides, this way, she’d still get to go to the parade tonight.
She hurried back to her classroom, sat down and began drawing.
* * *
Trey had now decided. Protective details sucked. Hard.
Getting a team together had been a bit of a rough ride. Something about the fact that cops seemed to die every time Darc gathered a group of uniforms together seemed to be a problem. Honestly, Trey wanted to tell them all that it was only an issue if you didn’t stay right beside the big guy. Then the worst that would happen is that you would get a swarm of snakes biting you. Or bloody corpses dropped on your head.
Bunch of wimps.
In spite of all that, they were able to get some of the best guys in the precinct. Even with all the bad press, Darc was still something of a celebrity amongst most of the really good cops. And some really wanted a chance to work with him.
So now, here they were, gathered around the City Hall Plaza. It was an area that had seen some real growth since City Hall was moved here from the old building after its completion in 2003.
The new City Hall was a study in glass and concrete, a massive structure that was designed to be “green.” Literally so, in the case of its roof, which sported a lawn. Something about having landscaping on the top of a building creeped Trey out, even though it was supposed to help deal with rainfall in a natural way.
But sometimes nature was weird. That was all Trey was saying.
Regardless, here they were, surrounded by what seemed to be every freak in Seattle. This idea of the Mayor’s to get everyone out for a big Halloween bash was a good idea in theory, but what it really meant is that everyone in what was a pretty freaky city already had an excuse to get their freak on.
It might not be San Francisco or Los Angeles, but today they were at least giving Portland a run for its money. There were scantily clad nurses, multiple species of animals and every nursery rhyme character you could think of, which was pretty much par for the course. But then you had the more bizarre costumes that were coming out in increasing numbers as the day progressed. Some were so strange that Trey couldn’t identify them. Or didn’t want to.
“Explain to me again why us being on a protective detail is better than us catching a killer,” Trey said to Darc for what felt like the twentieth time.