5th Pentagram: The sequel to the #1 Hard Boiled Mystery, 9th Circle (Book 3 of the Darc Murders Trilogy) (Book 3 of the Darc Murder Series)

by Hopkin, Ben

  “There is no logical explanation for it,” Darc responded. It was a variation on the answer he’d given Trey since he’d started asking the question earlier that morning. The fact that Darc was still answering said more about his level of frustration than anything else he might say or do. Darc wasn’t one to repeat himself.

  “The Mayor’s not due to arrive until later on, right before the parade,” Trey said, nodding toward the direction where his Land Rover was parked. “Maybe we could…”

  “Until Edward Hoffman is located—”

  “I know, I know… there’s nothing else for us to do.” Trey looked around the square. “I just feel so useless here.”

  It wasn’t like the party atmosphere wasn’t affecting him. Trey found himself tapping his foot to the music, wanting to grab a bite from pretty much every vendor here. Hell, he wanted to go home and grab a costume. That was a part of the problem. He totally wanted to be here. And felt absolutely guilty about it.

  Maybe it was a Catholic thing. Had to look for the angst in every situation.

  “Hey, look,” Trey said, tapping Darc on the shoulder and pointing up toward the stage that had been erected for the event. “The Mayor’s about to get up.”

  It was the start of the event. There would be a costume competition and some games going on throughout the afternoon, leading up to the parade. That was the final official part of this shindig. The celebration would go well into the night, but the Mayor wouldn’t be a part of any of that. Once the parade was over, they were done protecting him. Maybe they could get through this thing and then get back to their real jobs.

  Whatever. At least they wouldn’t have to run the risk of getting blown to smithereens out here. That was always a plus.

  * * *

  Mala rushed into the school building. Her heart was thumping, but not for the same reason it had earlier on.

  When Mala had seen that the number coming up on her cell was from the school, her stomach had clenched in anticipation. All she had been able to think was, what had Janey done this time?

  And then when she had heard the principal’s voice on the other end of the line, it had seemed to just confirm her fears. At least until he had started talking.

  “Ah, Ms. Char… I’m sorry… Dr. Charan, I have Janey here in the office with me. She’s not in trouble,” he had hastily added. “But I think she needs you for something.”

  “Is she okay?” Mala had asked, her fears turning in another direction.

  “Oh, she’s fine,” came the response. “She just drew me a picture—”

  “I’ll be there in five,” Mala had interrupted.

  And now she was running down the hallway of the school, trying to remember which way it was to the principal’s office. Next time she needed to park in front. She’d come in from behind and had gotten turned around twice. How in the hell did the kids find their way around in here?

  Finally she got to the main office. The receptionist waved her through, giving her a knowing look. Mala wanted to stop to correct the woman’s obvious misperception, but she had no time for that right at the moment.

  Bursting through the door to the principal’s office, Mala took in the fact that Janey’s drawing had no blood on it. Her heart rate immediately lowered, and she managed to give a wan smile and a weak wave to Mr. Killarney.

  The picture was of Mala, a phone and a car. Not a bad distress signal for a girl who didn’t speak.

  “She came in and gave me this picture,” the principal said, shrugging his shoulders. “I figured that it was best to give you a call.”

  “Yeah, I think that was the right choice,” Mala responded, moving closer to Janey. “Is everything okay?” she asked the little girl.

  Janey frowned and pulled out another picture. It was a drawing of Seattle, with a big pentagram drawn over its surface. There was a big red circle drawn around one of the points of the figure. The one that was right over the City Hall Plaza.

  Where Darc and Trey were right now.

  There was also the drawing of a man, with lines pointing out from him to multiple other people, all of whom were placed on the map next to one of the points of the pentagram. The victims of the crimes.

  Mala opened up her phone and took a picture of the drawing, sending it off to Darc. Then she grabbed Janey’s hand. The little girl looked up at her and smiled her radiant smile. For all the concern that was raging inside of Mala, Janey appeared perfectly calm and collected.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Killarney, but we have to go.” She held up a hand as he stood and began to open his mouth. “Right now.” Then she was out the door and speeding back down the hallway, Janey at her side.

  There were probably ten different school regulations she was breaking right now, not the least of which was pulling Janey out of school without signing her out first. But now was not the time to worry about formalities. Besides, it was twenty minutes before the end of the school day, anyway.

  Janey had drawn the circle in red. And from Mala’s experience with those drawings, she could guess what that meant. Trey and Darc were in danger, and they might not have any idea.

  Mala could only hope they would get there in time to help.

  CHAPTER 24

  Darc pulled out the phone, staring at the picture Mala had sent. It was one of Janey’s, obviously, but the information it communicated was like an electric shock to Darc’s system.

  It showed the connection of the killer to each of the victims, but it showed something else. There was a line that had been drawn between the killer and the location right next to where Trey and Darc were standing.

  City Hall.

  But Janey didn’t see patterns in terms of geographical constructs. She saw relationships. There was a relation between this area and the person for whom they were searching.

  Every piece of this case seemed to point back to the Waterfront Project, which pointed back to the government of the city. City Hall was home to the City Council and the Mayor’s office.

  It was also home to the office of the Mayor’s assistant, Bradley Moore. Bradley Moore, who was also a Freemason.

  The scene in the Mayor’s office and the one with the APA were related after all. There was a reason the APA’s murder had not been on one of the points of the pentagram. It had been unexpected.

  They had both been unexpected.

  Which meant that the top of the pentagram, the most important point, was still unused. There was still something that was supposed to occur here. Something big. The largest of all the events so far.

  Darc began sprinting forward, pulling out his gun as he ran.

  Behind him, he heard Trey swear and begin yelling out to bystanders, “Seattle PD. Clear a path.”

  The cries of alarm and the frantic scurrying of the crowd around them was peripheral noise to Darc. The most important thing right now was to get to Bradley Moore’s office.

  Why hadn’t he seen the link before? What was it about this killer that his movements were so hidden? The emotional intuition that Janey demonstrated somehow pierced whatever disguising fabric of misinformation the perpetrator was using.

  Now, this entire block of people was in danger.

  Darc knew, without having to consult the drawing any further, that this event would surpass all the others. It was designed mathematically to do so. This was the pinnacle, the apex, the endgame of a madman.

  And Darc had missed it all.

  He pushed into the building, sprinting up the huge staircase that led up to the Mayoral suite of offices. The sound of Trey’s footsteps right behind him echoed through the cavernous building.

  Rounding a corner, Darc came to Bradley Moore’s office.

  The door was ajar.

  * * *

  When Trey saw the assistant dude’s office door standing slightly opened, he was expected to see a body spread-eagled on the floor. He’d expected to see blood splashed everywhere, with freaky symbols and all the other bells and whistles they’d gotten at every other crime scen
e.

  What he was not expecting was a gun pointed in his face.

  And now Trey found himself in the middle of a Mexican standoff. Darc was standing just inside the doorway with his drawn gun pointing at Bradley’s head. Bradley’s gun was pointed right back.

  And Trey, as usual, was caught flat-footed. Seriously, you would think by now that he would know that anytime Darc thought it was a good idea to have his gun drawn, Trey should too.

  Right now, the phrase live and learn didn’t just sound like a platitude. It sounded like a really good coping strategy.

  “Good to see you, detectives,” the assistant said, his cool tone at odds with the sweat beaded on his brow. “I was expecting you, but I have to say, it took you a while.”

  “Yeah,” Trey shot back. “We stopped for snacks.”

  “Right,” he said, giving Trey a look that attempted to be nonchalant but failed miserably. “I forgot. You’re the funny one.”

  “You think I’m funny? Someone should call my girlfriend. She’s not so sure about that.”

  “In the end it’s a lot simpler this way,” the assistant continued, as if Trey had said nothing. “If you had come when I was afraid you would, I would have had to stall. Now…” He shifted the gun in his grip. “Now you can’t do anything.” The gun shook in the man’s grip as a drop of sweat dripped down into his eye, making him blink.

  “Can’t do anything about what?” Trey asked.

  “You know, it’s interesting,” the assistant murmured, almost as if he were talking to himself. “It seems like I would be more scared.”

  Trey wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but the level of trembling in Bradley’s hands was not shoring up the assistant’s statements. To Trey it seemed like everything the man was saying and doing was some kind of elaborate showpiece. Something designed to entertain, to distract. Hell, maybe the guy was trying to convince himself. It couldn’t be easy to have two detectives in your office, one with a gun pointed at your head.

  “The killings,” Darc spoke, his voice free of inflection. “They were leading up to today. What happens today?”

  “The end of Seattle as you know it,” the assistant answered and took a deep breath. He then lifted the gun, placed it inside his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  The shot was echoing through the small space before Trey even had a chance to react to the gun moving. And then all was heat and sound and blood and brain matter.

  It would be a long time before Trey would be able to forget that image. It felt like it was now indelibly imprinted in his mind.

  But there was another issue that was far worse. An issue that forced Trey to come back from his surprise, horror and ringing ears and keep moving forward.

  Something bad was about to happen in Seattle, and they had just lost the only person who could help them figure it out.

  * * *

  Janey was having a good time. Well, she had been for a little while. But now she was getting nervous.

  They had passed by the place where the parade was lining up. There were all kinds of floats. There was one that was all green, for the Emerald City, which is what some people called Seattle. There was another with lots of flowers all over it. Janey thought that one was really pretty. One had a bunch of trees with huge circular saw blades stuck in them and lumberjacks with chainsaws.

  There was music, food, people dancing and lots and lots of costumes. There was one person… Janey didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl… who was dressed exactly like Popeye. She thought it was funny. Popeye thought the person was a stinking copycat.

  But they couldn’t find Darc and Trey. Mala had talked to so many policemen, but none of them knew where they were. They had been here and then they ran off.

  Janey understood. Sometimes Darc did that, and when he did that, Trey followed him. It was just something they did. Other people didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter, they did it anyway.

  And Janey wasn’t other people. She knew why they ran. It was for things that were important. It was always because they were saving someone or helping someone or catching someone.

  Popeye said something rude about Trey and going to the bathroom, but Janey just ignored him. Partly because he was using potty words, but also because she was worried.

  She was worried because Trey and Darc weren’t here. And they were supposed to be. She had another picture she needed to give to Darc. And the bad thing was going to happen really close. Not wherever they were.

  So she kept looking around, hoping to see Darc’s bald head or Trey’s messy hair. But she couldn’t find them anywhere. And Mala kept calling, but no one would answer.

  She hoped that nothing bad had happened. Because it was important for them all to be here, and soon. That’s one of the things the lines in her head kept telling her. Now.

  Now now now now now.

  Sometimes she didn’t like the lines all that much.

  But she knew they were right. And she also knew that only Darc could figure it all out. She was here to help, and so were Mala and Trey, but it was Darc who had to find the bad guy. Darc was the only one he would talk to.

  Because that was what it was all about. At least part of it. The bad guy wanted to talk to Darc. He wanted to make him bad like he was.

  It made Janey nervous, but she knew it would be okay. Of course it would be okay. It had to be okay.

  It was Darc.

  And Darc could never be bad.

  * * *

  It was almost evening.

  The answers should be here, but they were not.

  Darc moved around the office once more, still searching for what he knew was not there. He and Trey, as well as the CSI unit, had gone over the crime scene in depth, trying to find another clue, any clue, that might tell them where to go next.

  There was a large group of people gathered together in a place that Darc knew was the point of attack. He needed information, but none was forthcoming.

  There was his mind, which unaided kept returning to the Satanist. There was the information coming from the colored bands of light, which told him that the Freemason link was the one to follow. And then there was Janey’s picture, which had pointed him here, to the hub of influence that Bradley Moore had wielded.

  But if it was Bradley Moore, he was now dead and unable to help with the crisis at hand. For even before the assistant had intimated that destruction was imminent, Darc had known that to be the case. Every part of this puzzle, including Janey’s input, had pointed in that direction.

  The CSI unit continued to mill about, looking at everything in the office, taking pictures and samples, filing everything away in plastic evidence bags. The position of the now-corpse, the gun that was used, the spatter pattern of the blood and brain tissue on the back window all reduced to pictures and codified baggies.

  Cody Lyons, the CSI intern, glanced up from his work to see Darc staring at him and nodded. He then looked away quickly. An avoidance? Or was he just getting back to his work? Perhaps he was still troubled by his own Masonic relationship with this case.

  “So this was the guy?” Trey said for the third time. “All that buildup and this was the guy? And now he’s dead and we’ve got some kind of impending doom coming and what the hell are we supposed to do about it?”

  “We are accomplishing nothing here at this point,” Darc admitted. “We should get back down for the Mayor’s speech before the parade.”

  “Oh, it’s already started,” interrupted Cody. “He was getting up to speak when I got here a few minutes ago.”

  The information sang through Darc’s head, the color a bright red. The probability that whatever attack was planned would come during the parade seemed dangerously high. He moved toward the office door, the urgency building within him.

  There were people in danger, and he was moving forward blind.

  * * *

  Trey sighed as he watched his partner speed out of the office.

  “I guess I should be used to that by n
ow,” Cody muttered. “Hey, can I come with?”

  “As long as you keep up,” Trey said, moving to try to take his own advice. Giving Darc too much of a lead was never a good idea. “But don’t they need you back there?”

  “Naw. I’m not really supposed to be on today. I just wanted to help.”

  “Well then, knock yourself out.” Right now, worrying about an intern was far less important than dealing with the fact that his partner was about to leave him behind. He picked up the pace, narrowing the gap for just a moment before Darc pelted down the stairs and across the lobby toward the entrance.

  Back outside, the crowd had grown. The colors, sights and sounds were a wash of human heat as they stepped out into a space that had sprouted lights to beat back the encroaching darkness of the night.

  The Mayor was stepping down from the stage as they crossed the plaza. Darc seemed to be searching for something, his movements more erratic than Trey had ever seen them.

  Usually when Darc was moving anywhere, his lines were straight and unwavering. Maybe it was just a product of having to move through the crowd, although Trey had never seen that slow his partner down before.

  And then, from what felt like out of nowhere, there were Mala and Janey, pushing their way out through the crowd to Darc. What was strange about it was that it was Janey that was pulling Mala along.

  By the time those two met up with Darc, Trey had managed to get closer, with Cody right behind him.

  “I tried calling—” Mala was saying.

  “We were up with the Mayor’s assistant, who was part of this whole thing,” Trey explained. “He shot himself.”

  But Janey was shaking her head violently, back and forth. What was she saying? The Mayor’s assistant wasn’t part of it? She grabbed Darc’s hands, placing a piece of paper in it.

  A piece of paper with a drawing.

  Looking over Darc’s shoulder, Trey could see that it was a depiction of the scene around them. Sort of. It was an aerial view, with all the floats of the parade going down the street.

  And amongst the floats were pictures of… what were those things? Clouds? Bales of cotton? Popcorn?