Face slightly bent, Joe Mac said nothing. It was Jodi who roused herself, brushing back her auburn hair from her forehead. Then she said, “Yeah. I do want to go to the mat with these people. Now, how do you think they’re selecting their victims, Marvin? It has to be astronomy, right? Something the FBI computers didn’t pick up?”
Marvin stared at the map. “I can’t imagine something so complex that an FBI computer dedicated to astronomy wouldn’t pick up. It seems to me that if this method of choosing people had anything to do with astronomy the computer would see it instantly. I know that a computer would pick up on it long before I would. I don’t really know astronomy. I only know things I care about.”
Joe Mac lifted his face. “Only things you care about.” He paused. “The Druids cared about astronomy. They cared about their sacrifices. They cared about rituals. But they only cared about all those things because they cared about maintaining their power. And the greatest threat to their power was … what?”
Marvin: “The Roman Empire.”
“No,” Joe Mac shook his head. “No army ever defeated a nation’s spirit. We lost in Vietnam because you can’t bomb nationalism out of an enemy. Kill them all day long, and they’ll still be loyal to their faith. That’s a truism; the only thing that can defeat faith is a stronger faith. But back then there were only two great faiths. There were the Druids, and there was Israel.” He stared off. “Sometimes with these old civilizations the answer lies in numerology. What do you think, Marvin?”
Marvin hesitated. “Uh, well, that might make sense. But what kind of numerology are we talking? Numerology can be mind boggling.”
Joe Mac continued, “Jodi, call up the birthdays of these kids and check them against Jewish holidays.”
“This is insane,” muttered Jodi as she hauled out her iPad. “Okay, the kids were born between June 6 and the first of November, and there’s really nothing all that special on the Jewish calendar during that period. We have a minor holiday, Leil Selichot, or prayers for forgiveness, on September 16. We have a minor fast, Tzom Tammuz, on July 11. We have Tish’a B’Av, a holiday that commemorates the destruction of the two temples, on August 1. And Jesus was born in December, so he doesn’t even count.”
Jodi noticed that Marvin had frozen in a curious pose; he had a hand raised as if to ask a question, a single finger uplifted, but he didn’t say anything.
“Marvin?” She stared. “Are you all right?”
“Uh,” he began, “actually, there’s no way that Jesus was born in December. I thought you guys knew that.”
Jodi didn’t move. “Marvin, how could I possibly know that?”
“Because it’s obvious.”
She didn’t blink. “Would you please explain to me why it’s so obvious?”
Marvin lifted his hands as if raising a cloud. “Look, it says in the Bible that Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, got pregnant exactly three months before Mary got pregnant, so Jesus was born three months after John the Baptist, his cousin, was born. Right? Okay. Now, Zacharias, who was the husband of Elizabeth, was serving as a priest during the course of Abijah, and we know by non-biblical sources when that was, so we know that Zacharias served as a priest between June 13 and June 19 of that year.
“Anyway, to sum it up, the Bible says that after Zacharias completed his service he went home, and Elizabeth immediately got pregnant. That would put the day of her conception somewhere near the end of June. So, if you add nine months to that, you have March. And that’s when John the Baptist was born. And since John was three months older than Jesus, that means Jesus would have been born in June.” He swept a hand across the plywood. “Anybody can figure that out.”
Jodi began typing into her iPad. Her eyes flew over each file, opening and closing until she had all six cases displayed in letterbox. She began scanning, “Okay, all the kids were born between June 6 and September 27 in 2012. And Jesus was born in June, too. But what’s special about 2012?”
Marvin muttered, “Don’t ask me.”
Typing, Jodi continued with, “Okay, the oldest child was born June 6, 2012. And June 6, 2012, was also the date of a ‘Venus Transit.’ That’s a very rare eclipse that happens once every one hundred years, and it happens in a pair. Venus passes between the earth and the sun and then it does it again eight years later. Then it doesn’t do it again for another one hundred years. And so, all these children were born the first year following that Venus Transit. But how and why does that unite them?”
“The star over Bethlehem when Jesus was born,” said Marvin. “People would have mistaken Venus so close to the Earth as a giant star over the city.”
“That’s it!” Jodi screamed as she slammed her hand down on the desk and leaped to her feet. “They think one of these kids is the Messiah!”
Marvin had jumped back. “But which one?”
“They don’t know which one! That’s why they’ve been trying to kill all of them! These psychos have a list of kids who might be the Messiah, but they don’t know which one it is! And that’s their motive! That’s why they’ve chosen these children!”
Joe Mac coldly stated, “But they’ve been killing these kids for four years. If these Druids are so scared one of these kids is the Messiah, why didn’t they kill all of them the day they were born?”
“They took their cue from Herod,” said Marvin.
“What?” asked Jodi. “What does that mean?”
“When the so-called ‘kings of the Orient’ finally caught up to give Jesus their gifts, Jesus was almost two years old. The kings didn’t find Jesus in a stable. The Bible says that when they caught up to Jesus, he was old enough to be following his mother around the house. And that’s why Herod, the big honcho of Jerusalem, told his men to kill every child under two years old. Jesus wasn’t a baby when the order was given to kill every child in the city because one of them might be the Messiah, so these Druids weren’t exactly horrified when these children were born. They knew they had years before the Messiah would be a threat to them. They could take their time hunting him down. Plus, it’s easier to kill a targeted group over a period of years. That way you can defuse the horror of the situation, get people to lower their guard. Plan more carefully. Stuff like that.”
“There has to be another qualifier for this list,” said Joe Mac. “The date of birth and this Venus eclipse isn’t enough. A billion kids were born that year. Were these kids all born in the same city or hospital?”
“No,” said Jodi. “They were born all over the world in different hospitals, and two were born at home.”
“Relatives?”
“No relatives.”
“How far back did the FBI cross-check the relatives?”
Turning her head, Jodi stared. Then she slammed the computer, jammed it in her bag, and surged for the door. “Not far enough!”
Joe Mac was on his feet and moving with surprising swiftness for the door. “Get your coat, Marvin. You’re coming with us.”
With a quick half-turn Marvin snatched his overcoat from the back of his chair and whirled it so that it settled on his shoulders like a cloak. He hurled his arm-sling aside. Then he followed them into the labyrinth of tunnels to pull beside Jodi, who was checking her watch.
“Why am I coming?” he asked, excited.
“Because that blast wasn’t meant to kill us,” said Jodi. “It was meant to kill you. We just happened to be there.”
“Now what? We tell the FBI?”
“We only tell the FBI what they need to know. We don’t tell them anything we don’t have to tell them. It’s just us.”
“Are you serious?”
“Live or die, Marvin, it’s just us.” Jodi stopped and gazed up projecting her best game face. “Are you with me?”
Marvin’s brow hardened as he stared down.
“You’re not gonna have to look for me, Jodi.”
SIX
Special Agent Jack Rollins turned as Jodi barged into the section of the department reserved for FBI agents and
counsel. Behind Jodi, Marvin scurried forward, and Joe Mac stopped just inside the open door.
“Rollins!” shouted Jodi.
Rollins coolly took a sip of coffee as he slowly gazed over Jodi’s dust-covered form; he focused for a longer moment on her thoroughly wrecked head of hair.
“I heard about the explosion,” he replied finally. “But they said it was just a gas line, so I let the fire department handle it.”
Jodi stated, “I need the genealogical printouts you did on the victims.”
It only required Rollins a second to catch her meaning. “Jodi, we’ve been over those things a thousand times. None of the victims were related. And why are you still on this? You guys should be in the hospital after that gas explosion. And, by the way, I’ve got a crime scene unit and fifteen agents out on Long Island right now taking that guy’s place apart. By tonight this thing is spam in a can.”
“It’s bigger than one man,” Jodi answered. “And I’m sure the victims are related.”
Rollins was a professional and professionals do not express surprise, confusion, or anger. He merely stared for a moment before he stated, “Who, exactly, is related? All of them? I don’t find that credible.”
“No,” Jodi shook her head. “It’s just the children.”
“Just the children,” Rollins repeated. “What about the rest of them?”
“The rest don’t matter!” said Jodi but sharply raised a hand. “No. Wait. I don’t mean that they don’t matter. They do matter. But the adults were never the targets. The children are the real targets! The children have always been the real targets! The rest of the murders were thrown into the mix just to confuse us. The rest were just killed, so we would spend years chasing down dead ends and red herrings and wild turkeys that don’t mean anything. They were killed so we’d spend months looking for motives and relationships and suspects that don’t exist. You see what I’m saying? There was never a genuine motive to kill any of the adults! It wasn’t somebody they knew! It wasn’t anything they did! They were killed to muddy the waters, so we wouldn’t see that the children were always the only true target!”
“That’s a whole lot of killing just to muddy the waters,” Rollins stated firmly.
Jodi bent her face forward and calmed her tone. “I know I’m right, Jack. I want to see the printouts you did on the children. I want to see their relatives.”
Rollins took a sip.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Come on.”
He led them through a surprisingly quiet FBI office. Then he threw open the door of an unoccupied storeroom, and Jodi beheld tons and tons of printouts and files. Some printouts were stacked six feet high. Others were stacked in cubes as big as a full-size van.
“Oh, no,” Jodi whispered.
“Yeah,” said Rollins with a nod. “And as far as relatives go, we checked back until there was nothing else to check. I’d say we went back at least two hundred years on each of them and we didn’t find a single connection. And that wasn’t just the kids. That was all of them because that’s what we were working with at the time. Now you’re telling me this was just about the children? Okay, fine. But we didn’t find any connection between the children, either. They had no relatives. At all. Period.”
Jodi asked, “Where are the printouts?”
“How would I know?” Rollins swept out an arm. “They’re in here somewhere.”
Wearily Jodi pulled up a chair and sat. She leaned forward, forearms on her knees, hair draping her head. “I can’t take this,” she whispered. “First, we’re cold. Then we’re hot. Then we’re right on top of that psycho, and he gets himself dead. Then we get shot up. Twice. Then we get blown up. And now we finally figure out a motive, and we get torpedoed with red tape. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Who was in charge of cross-checking relatives?”
Jodi raised her face to see Joe Mac standing beside her. He had somehow made it across the bustling room by himself. After a brief pause, Rollins said, “I almost forgot about you, Joe. You want the agent that did the cross-checking?”
“Yeah.”
Rollins pointed. “Andy headed up the team. Hey! Andy! Come over here, would ya?” As he approached, Rollins leaned over Jodi. “His name is Andy Edison. He led the background search, so he’ll know more than anybody else. He might even know where they put the files.”
Jodi didn’t raise her face. “Thanks.”
“Hello,” Special Agent Edison said as he arrived. “Can I help you?”
Joe Mac executed a grave half-turn into Edison. “We think that the children might be related. We were going to check printouts, but maybe you could fill us in.”
Jodi stood. “Hi. I’m Jodi.”
“I’m Andy.” Edison bent his head forward, mouth in a tight line. He stood like that until he shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not possible. We checked family trees as far back as they went, and I don’t remember any of them sharing a single relative. And that wasn’t just the children. That was all of them, so you don’t need to go through the printouts again. There’s nothing in them that ties any of the victims together. Including the children. I’m absolutely certain.”
“What year did the records end?” asked Joe Mac.
“Uh …” Edison closed his eyes. “ … I believe we were able to go back to about 1801. We lost paper on them a little before the Civil War.”
Jodi blew out a long breath.
Joe Mac pressed, “About half of them were Jewish. Is that right?”
“Thirteen were Jewish. To be exact.”
“Did you ever think that was unusual?”
“No,” Edison shook his head. “This is New York. If someone is going to go on a killing spree it’s almost a sure thing that a fair number of victims are going to be from Israel or Spain or Germany. Or Mars.”
Jodi was standing with one hand on a hip, gazing to the side, and there must have been something in her stance because Rollins asked, “God Almighty, Jodi. What’s wrong? The guy’s dead. It’s over.”
“I told you, Jack. Jacob Statute didn’t work alone. He’s never worked alone. He’s part of a very dangerous group, and they’re not finished.”
Just when Jodi didn’t think she could be any further shocked, the ineffably stately Chief of Archeology for the American Museum of Natural History, Professor Augustus Graven, stepped to the fringe of the circle. After respectfully staring across each of them Graven asked, “Could I be of service?”
Jodi blinked. “What are you doing here, professor?”
Professor Graven bent his head. “After I was confident that none of you were injured in the gas explosion, I responded to an FBI request to study evidence seized from the suspect’s house this afternoon. They thought it might be Celtic in origin.” A humble gesture. “It’s been my honor to informally assist Dr. Mason in advising them for some time now. But I have no official connection to the case.”
Jodi squinted at the skulls and robes laid across several long tables. “Does any of it relate to a Druid ceremony?”
Graven nodded once. “My background in forensic anthropology indicates that the heads were severed by a single blow. And concerning the Druidic practice of decapitation, there is the oppidum of the Saluvii at D’entremont, Provence, where there is a pillar of sculptured human heads and the discovery of fifteen human skulls severed in the exact same manner. But, then, the cult of the head and skull was a widely exercised Celtic means of worship dating back to the sixth century BC and was not necessarily limited to the Druids.”
“So how can you say this is not a Druid ritual?”
“I did not mean to infer that it was not executed during a Druidic ritual, Detective Strong.” Graven stared sternly. “I am only saying that there is no means of proving this was done during a Druidic ritual and not another Gaelic ceremony.”
“But what about the robes? The staff?” Jodi had begun tapping her foot. “Are those not robes worn by Druids?”
“I don’t know,” Graven replied.
“There are no trustworthy literary references to the design of ceremonial Druidic robes or staffs. The closest references would be eighteenth century drawings which may or may not be accurate at all.” He paused before adding almost apologetically, “You must remember that archeologists are limited to making their best guess based only on materials that can endure burial for centuries in the harshest geological conditions – conditions that rapidly destroy books and clothing. We simply have no authoritative literary references and no surviving relics that we can use for comparison except the few engravings captured in badly eroded stone or tremendously degraded bronze. And those are very vague images indeed.”
Joe Mac stepped forward, “Just what can you tell us?”
Graven turned to stare across the far table. “I can say that whatever cult severed those heads – and it is a cult – was either intentionally or unintentionally following the ritual mode of decapitation practiced by ancient Gaelic societies. But I cannot affirm that this was performed during a Druidic ceremony.”
“Huh,” Joe Mac grunted. “It looks like archeologists can’t really determine a whole lot of anything at all.”
“That is a fair statement,” Graven stated comfortably. “Archeologists can almost always determine what was done. But we can almost never tell you why it was done. We can almost never tell you if this was a frightening religious ritual or a friendly tribal practice. We cannot tell you if this was a curse of damnation executed only on the most terrible of enemies, or a purification ceremony reserved only for the most beloved of family members. For all that archeologists can infer, there is a great deal more we cannot infer. And yet it is exactly this thirst to solve these mysteries that is the great lure of scientists to the profession of archeology. And – I might add – to science in general.”
“Thank you,” said Jodi and grabbed Joe Mac’s arm. “This is useless. Let’s get out of here.”
“Just a second.” Joe Mac turned fully into Professor Graven. “You used a fancy word. I believe it was oppidum. What is that? A temple?”
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