“No thank you, Arthur. I was up early and had a proper breakfast for once. No need to apologize. I'm sure your days are busy with our special visitor from the night before last.” Joe had a good deal of respect for Arthur, built over the years they’d worked together. Well, he worked for Arthur, Joe reminded himself. He had been a truly fair boss. Arthur always had his back when Joe went off on a hunch. But then, Joe's hunches were always correct. He allowed himself the mental back pat.
Arthur sat with authority and Joe did the same, picking the right hand guest chair across the desk from Arthur.
“What have you found so far, Joe?” Arthur asked without further small talk.
“Sir, not much,” Joe said. “Captain Flashlight has left no detectable energy trace. No heat, radiation, spectral trail, nothing.”
“Captain Flashlight?” Arthur asked.
“A name one of my technicians came up yesterday. It’s catchy.” Joe replied offered a rare smile.
Arthur's reply was a blank look. Joe moved on to the report.
“We’ve canvassed the affected area and came up with two persons of interest, a Griffin DeLuca, and an Albert Schreiber,” Joe said.
“And of those two?” Arthur countered.
“Griffin DeLuca seems likely involved or at least hiding something.” Joe said. “Albert seems shifty, but my gut tells me he's harmless.” They've been through this small waltz many times over the years Joe worked for DHS. There was no need to go into the detail of justification of his tactics. Joe was ending a preliminary phase and would become even more focused and serious once a target was singled out. But Joe saw Arthur was pleased. They both knew after 48 hours, Arthur’s expectations of Joe would be higher than a normal field agent.
“What are your next steps, Joe?” Arthur asked.
“Open surveillance, closer and extensive review of personal data, quiet interviews of co-workers and supervisors, the usual.”
Joe was winding up for permission.
“Have your requests on my desk today. I'll sign them,” Arthur said, skipping past the need to ask. “But Joe,” Arthur interjected the silence of Joe's sudden victory and held up a hand indicating a serious pause. From experience, Joe knew to hold his silence and give his full attention. “I want you to consider what you may have on your hands. You will have higher resources if you can reasonably justify the risk. From what you have seen and documented, we have a serious off-world threat, and you need to think outside the box on this one.”
Arthur made that small nod to emphasize the gravity of the statement. Joe knew that nod. It meant, “Do as I say.”
“This is not just a manhunt,” Arthur continued. “This is a hostile entity that has killed two American pilots.”
“Thank you, sir,” Joe replied.
“On what expectations are you basing your investigation?” Arthur asked, allowing his chair to spin slightly.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Is it your understanding the alien is hiding? Or, is the alien aware of something that we aren't? Maybe an abandoned mine shaft in the area? Is the alien causing sickness in the population?” Arthur was rambling off questions faster than Joe could respond.
“Sir, I have people monitoring the local hospitals and clinics. We've looked at ground surveys and there are no anomalies. I've had police triple their patrols with no results. I believe this entity is in one of these homes, or even within the local infrastructure itself. He seemed to be made of a concentrated energy.”
“You’re saying it could be in the power lines?” Arthur asked sitting up.
“I’m saying I don't know, but I'm using every tool I have at this moment. We're looking for an anomaly. Anything that seems to be slightly out of the norm.” Joe said.
“How did the clean up turn out?” Joe asked in deflection.
Arthur tilted his head forward a smidgen and squinted his left eye. Joe read this as Arthur was annoyed at his deflection.
“Everything is cleaned up. We recovered both bodies. The story held and people should be going back into downtown in the morning,” Arthur replied. “Three buildings were damaged by debris, but that couldn't be helped. Each owner has ample insurance. Should be no skin off our teeth.”
Joe glanced down at his watch. 8:31 am. If he left soon he could make it to his techs before 9:00.
“Go, get after it!” Arthur chuckled,
“Thanks, boss.” Joe shot up and made the door in two strides. “I’ll keep you posted of any developments.” Joe closed the door respectfully and was down the hall before another thought entered his mind.
Arthur feared Joe was making this case business as usual. It was far from usual. Worry crept into Arthur’s mind. What additional support could Arthur supply that could possibly counter a truly unknown alien presence? Arthur sat for several minutes mentally reviewing the arsenal of departments, weapons, internal secret services that he could request to assist Joe. Arthur looked up contacts for heads or leads of departments within Homeland's massive internal intranet. He then compiled a short list to give to his assistant. On the list were two internal and official armed reaction squads local to Western Pennsylvania. A local Army commander was on the list but this was not public information due to the violation of the constitution. Arthur included the local S.W.A.T. commander for lighter engagements, of course. After he thought in larger terms, Arthur added to the list the nearby Air Force squadron leaders. Arthur had reservation with allowing a field agent access to the Air Force. Arthur crossed the Air Force from the list. That request, Arthur decided, would need to go through him. More items made the list but were taken off as soon as written. Arthur knew Joe had knowledge of these lower response groups and agency resources.
Satisfied with the list, Arthur marched it out to his assistant and had her source the information and send it along to Joe Diclaro's internal email.
Returning to his office Arthur pulled up his calendar and skimmed his appointments. He had important phone calls to make due to Captain Flashlight.
Unexpected
It was nice to have some time alone, Itishree thought. She had not had a moment alone since coming to America and landing in her cousin's apartment. After dropping her off, her cousin Aruni and her “man” had ventured downtown for amusement with friends. Now that the emergency was over, downtown businesses promoted special engagements, events, or parties to drag the surrounding masses. People of Pittsburgh were treating downtown like a long lost beloved relative freshly remembered and adored. Even the swank hotels were having nightly specials, Aruni had informed her. With a wink and a laugh Aruni had instructed Itishree how to get a taxi ride home in case she decided to stay. Riding in a taxi in America was safe compared to the asphalt jungles of Pune's streets. Aruni's time away from India had softened her memories of how harsh getting around Pune had become.
Cafe Delhi was nearly empty. Itishree asked Aruni for the best Indian restaurant in their area and she had quickly recommended this establishment. But after a few questions, Itishree had discovered Aruni had only been here once just after arriving in America. Sheepishly Aruni had admitted to diving into the local culture. Itishree noticed it was beginning to show on her cousin's hips and thighs. Refocusing her attention back to the menu, Itishree found herself half knowing the food. She could tell from the pictures the main dishes were only a little removed from the traditional lineage; however, the English descriptions were rather obtuse. Not helping her ability to focus was the young waitress fluttering around like a butterfly to Itishree's flower. The young girl had to be a daughter of the restaurant's owner. Itishree was beginning to feel guilty asking for more time, yet again.
Griffin sat in his car in a parking lot across the corner from Cafe Delhi. It was just beginning to darken outside beyond dusk. The street lights and parking lot lights twinkled on together. The parking lot centered between several plazas just off a minor highway. Few cars were in the lot.
“Amazing what the locals will do with churches, huh?” Griffi
n asked Gabriel.
“I will not comment on the particular sanctity of personal property, Griffin,” Gabriel returned in a deeper whisper.
“That’s not exactly what I was asking.”
“Yes it was,” Gabriel said. “There are many questions you have about my kind or the origins of my kind. You're too afraid to ask or feel it would be uncomfortable of me to answer.”
“Well, Gabriel, Your Archangelness, I don't want to be damned to hell or have my body turned to a pillar of salt.”
“First, there is no hell,” Gabriel said. “Second, I wasn't the Archangel who turned Edith into a pillar of salt.”
“Wait, there's no hell?” Griffin asked. “Who was Edith?”
“Lot’s wife, Edith,” Gabriel answered. “And no, there is no hell. Hell is a creation of mankind. When a soul has done negative deeds, those deeds are weighed against their positive deeds. Then in turn the divine equation creates a period of time where that soul will wait in purgatory.” Gabriel couldn't help but be direct on the facts of Heaven. Being on Earth, conscious, and cognizant, Gabriel could now recall all of the vessels he had led and needed to be aware that Griffin wasn't one of them. He was just new to being a vessel.
“Which is worse? Mankind's invention of Hell or Purgatory?” Griffin asked.
“Purgatory,” Gabriel answered without thinking. “Imagine that sleeplessness you feel lying in bed struggling to control your mind. Hour after hour passes with your mind racing around keeping you from sleep.”
“Yeah, I know those nights very well,” Griffin said.
“Now imagine one hundred and fifty years in that state. No outside stimulus. No sleep. Only darkness and only your own mind to torment you,” Gabriel said. “You should get moving.”
Gabriel transferred information to Griffin indicating Itishree's state. The information, a combination of visual, emotional, statistical, and instructional data, was far more intuitive and helpful than any other form of data Griffin had come across. He thought briefly on how to take advantage of this for some future gain.
“If there is a future,” Gabriel said.
Griffin slid out of his car and walked through the parking lot to the restaurant. Struggling to concentrate on his task, new insight into Purgatory, and the gravity of his responsibility, Griffin focused as he walked. He had hoped for a structure with actual windows instead of glass-block crosses. He couldn’t see into the building from outside. Griffin would have no idea where Itishree would be sitting. Searching for her inside with few patrons would give her a moment to spot him first and react.
“Just go slow and be thorough,” Griffin told himself.
“Turn right around this corner before crossing this street,” Gabriel interjected his thoughts.
“Uhm, okay. Why?”
“I have something to do while you speak to the Prophet Itishree,” Gabriel said. The Archangel’s confidence was as solid as Griffin's was insubstantial.
Griffin rounded the corner and kept walking down
“You’re leaving me to talk to Itishree alone?” Griffin asked. His security began to unravel.
“Be yourself, and make her comfortable. You're all she needs right now.”
“How long will you be gone?” Griffin asked.
“Not long.” Griffin felt the energy shift from around him. Pale blue points of white danced away from Griffin. The street was filled with energy. Gabriel's mass zipped straight up into the sky without forming into a coherent shape. He was gone instantly. Griffin brought his eyes back down to street level and refocused on his task. This was important, he reminded himself. Griffin was outside the restaurant now. He turned back towards the parking lot and realized there had been no reply to any of his current thoughts. His mind was his again. Alone in its own fish bowl. Strangely this allowed Griffin to recover a small level of confidence. He entered the restaurant, where the smells of curry and distant culture welcomed him.
Griffin stopped just inside the door and scanned left to right. He took his time to comprehend what he was seeing. He didn't want to overlook Itishree right away if she were in sight. Griffin didn’t want to be seen as a stalker. Griffin blushed with guilt and with trepidation stepped forward into the restaurant.
He stepped into a small lounge at the front of the restaurant. Two decorative partitions separated the lounge from the seating areas. A hostess podium stood in front of the left partition. The podium was empty. Griffin noticed the walls of the waiting area ended at the standard eight feet but the space above continued on, giving away that this had once been a church. However, the interior design did not allow light above the new interior walls. The ceiling was simply lost in darkness, giving the illusion it wasn't there.
Griffin walked into the seating area and saw Itishree seated alone at a table to his left. Few tables separated her from him. He was thankful she was looking at the menu and not on the door. “Be bold.” Griffin thought to himself.
Thomas Palocsik had been called on to surveil a single male suspect and file a report, each night, into Homeland’s database. It was the big break he had been waiting for his whole life. The years of college, incurred mountain of educational debt, referrals, strings his father had pulled at the precinct had paid off. He had called his father and told him he was getting his first assignment and the two had met up in Sharp Edge for a celebratory beer. He was on his way. His dad had clapped him on his back and told him how much he loved him. He also told a few strangers, at the bar, how proud he was of his boy. Tom remembered blushing over and over.
He had followed the suspect for several miles after a hushed bulletin had been put out for the suspect’s car. A series of passes in patrol cars had found the suspect and given DHS enough information for Tom to intercept the sedan. He had lost the suspect once but after a bout of panicked acceleration had nearly passed the suspect on I376 before falling back inline four cars behind and to the left. It had been simple to lazily tail the suspect from there. Tom thought this job wasn’t so difficult. And he imagined how long before he would be investigating crimes for DHS. Tom smiled at the thought of going after terrorist threats to God and country. His dad would be proud, indeed.
He watched the suspect, one Griffin DeLuca, enter a plaza parking lot. Tom backed around a far brick building and waited. He thought it odd that the suspect didn’t get out of the car right away and Tom made a note of this on his scratch pad. DHS hadn’t issued him a tablet yet and he would have to make due with old fashioned paper and pen. Several minutes passed and Mr. DeLuca got out of his car and walked diagonally across the center lot. Tom pulled his car, lights out, around the building and into the street on the eastern edge of the lot. To his immediate right was a similar brick wall. He imagined a small plaza of shops that faced the adjacent street. There was no traffic on these side streets so Tom decided to loiter in the street and pulled his car against the curb on his right.
The suspect disappeared as he turned right around the corner of the long brick building. Odd, Tom thought. Mr. DeLuca must have taken a picture with a smart phone because Tom swore he saw a camera flash reflect off the restaurant directly ahead of him. And then, the suspect stepped into his sight again and entered the restaurant. Tom looked down again at his pad and wrote, ‘Entered restaurant…’ and checked his watch. Writing down the time, Tom waited.
Griffin slid into the chair opposite Itishree. His chair's wooden legs scraped quietly against the ancient wooden floor. Griffin saw his motion caught Itishree's attention. She gazed above the menu like a child peers over a fence. His smile didn't catch her off guard. She smiled back. But, narrowed her eyes cocking her head slightly to her left. Then she dropped the menu.
She was more magnificent than ever. Her long black hair was pulled back and piled on top with a barrel claw clip. She wore a light green dress. The dress was adorned with fine embroidery of leaves and vines. Her skin was the color of honey at dusk. Her smile was electric, warm, and inviting. Griffin could feel the hair on his arms and head stand on en
d.
“How did you know I was here?” Itishree asked with expanding warmth.
“Our mutual friend,” Griffin replied. His own smile faded a little. Those three words had brought the mood back to somber. “Gabriel.”
“The Gabriel, Archangel Gabriel?” Itishree asked. Itishree let go of the menu and discarded it on the table.
Griffin said nothing. For a moment his words were gone, crushed by her loveliness. He swam in her eyes. He imagined his fingers running through her hair and around the back of her head. His eyes darted down to her lips and back up to her eyes. Her neck was sleek. Her skin flawless.
Itishree smiled. Griffin blushed for a moment. He knew she’d caught him drinking her in.
He looked down at the table and back up at Itishree, refocusing his mind.
“Itishree.” He cleared his throat. “May I call you Itishree?”
“It’s all you know of me, Griffin, so yes.” She smiled and nodded.
“Itishree,” He said again. The waitress appeared out of nowhere and stood next to their table. Griffin stopped and looked slightly up at the young woman.
A brilliant flash of light filled the alley. An enormous thunder crack followed. Tom’s ears rang. The bolt rocked Tom’s unmarked patrol car. Now, Tom sensing the presence of another in the seat next to him, turned to see a glowing pale blue shape. The figure placed a hand upon Tom's right shoulder and looked at him with wide sad eyes. Tom saw compassion in those eyes, and eternity. He lost control of his muscles. Tom could not stop the alien form. He could not breathe. Darkness collapsed his vision. His body slumped to his left. There was another light. Above, ahead, Tom couldn't tell. Then it was around him, surrounding him.
Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) Page 16