"So there's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?"
I shook my head. "I have to at least make the trip. See what going on."
He snorted. "I guess I'll keep an eye on the paper. Wait to read about the balrogg that's tearing through New Orleans pulling up graves."
My head shot over at him. "You think it's really a balrogg?" I hoped it wasn't, but even I knew the amount of beings that could do the type of damage Nicholas Bates described were limited. Balroggs are pretty much the siege engines of the demonic community. Normally, the wards placed on the earth nearly six thousand years ago keeps them from wandering up here to do as they please. The only way they can access the mortal plane is through a conduit created by a wizard who specializes in portals or demonology. That's the good news. I wouldn't necessarily have to deal with the balrogg, just his summoner. Once his link to the mortal plane is severed, he would be sucked back in whatever hell he came from.
"If it is, what are you going to do about it?" He held up his index finger before I could answer. "Alone?"
"Simple. Take down the summoner and the problem is solved."
"And if it's here on its own accord?"
"Then the world has bigger issues than a few dug up graves." That would mean that someone deliberately disabled the wards. More accurately, a group of someones did it. It was created by a power that hasn't stepped on the earth for a long time. Over two thousand years if we are to believe the Bible. "Look. Right now it could be anything from the balrogg to faulty security. Shoot, it could even be Nicholas losing his mind and forgetting the family asked to remove the mausoleum from the grounds to place it elsewhere. Until I get down there, I really don't have a clue."
A smile poked through Max's white beard. "People can call you a lot of things, but a coward isn't one of them."
I smiled and took it as a compliment coming from him, even though I felt it was a jab at my pride. Life was full of plenty of examples of bravery in the face of danger. Some of those people only live on through the stories told by others in front of a camera, on a blog, or in a bar with a few friends. Bravery wasn't the right word for what I was doing. It was honor.
To be fair, there were just as many examples of honor being just as deadly, including to the entire samurai culture in Japan. But to me, my word means everything and I treat it like it is. I could have been like the others and taken his number to call him back after looking into things on my own, but that just isn't my style. Either I was going to push him off believing what he was telling me was a load of crap or I was going to fly down at my first chance to look into things personally.
"I'm not going to argue about it. When we get to the airport, you can take the car back to the office to get yours. Once I have a better idea about what's going on, I'll call you. I'd prefer if you didn't pass the information onto the council, but I'm not going to ask you not to."
I pulled up to the airport parking lot and up to the front of the hangar. Max got out with me and helped me grab my belongings which amounted to a pair of suitcases I took with me everywhere. Then I noticed a problem.
"Shoot," I grabbed the staff and its hidden sword from the trunk. "I meant to have Stacy next day air this down to the hotel. Think you can handle that for me?"
Max let a grin form on his lips. "I think I can handle that." I reached into my pocket to hand him a hundred dollar bill, but he waved me off. "This one's on me."
After I had everything, I handed Max my keys and shook his hand. He may have raised me for about half my childhood, but our public affection never got much higher than a simple handshake or a quick hug. It was more of a guy thing than anything else.
Without saying another word I stepped through the front door and into the airport. I wasn't looking forward to trying to catch a connecting flight, but as long as the plane left on time I knew it wouldn't be a problem.
Of course, that meant the plane had to leave on time...
After a pair of flights that was more mundane than anything, I reached the baggage carousel sometime around midnight. Then it was a matter of calling the hotel and getting a shuttle bus to pick me up as normal service ended around eleven PM. I was tired, jet-lagged, and most of all hungry as could be. Thankfully my reservation was for the Hilton near the airport, so it was a rather quick ride practically across the street.
I considered getting a cab to take me to a place that was still open and serving food, but the manager at the front desk assured me that room service was still open for another hour and more than willing to handle my request. After quick deliberation, I settled on a cheeseburger with all the fixings, an order of onion rings, and a six pack of Coors for my evening meal. I'm normally against drinking like this the night before meeting a client, but I find it's the only way to settle my jet lag.
By three in the morning I had eaten my meal, drank all but one of the beers, and had watched more worthless television than I had in the last five years. My mind raced for nearly another twenty minutes before my thoughts drifted away, finally allowing me to get some sleep.
- 3 -
The phone to my room started ringing at ten AM sharp, causing my head to ache almost instantly. I lifted my head up far enough to get a clear view of the phone and grabbed it off the night stand next to the bed.
"Hello?" I said, sounding like I had just woken up even though I tried to force my voice to sound normal.
"Mr. Gilmore?" the man on the other end asked in a voice that sounded unsure, almost scared. There wasn't a person alive who would last a week working in the hotel industry acting timid like that.
"The one and only."
"You were supposed to be down in the lobby at ten sharp. Mr. Bates will not be pleased to know you are wasting his time like this."
"Excuse me? I'm sorry I overslept, but I work on my own schedule." I glanced across the room and noticed my bags still sitting on the recliner where I had left them the night before. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be down."
"But, Mr. Bates..."
"He'll get over it." I hung the phone up before I could hear another round of protests from the driver. Just two minutes into my first day in New Orleans and I was already ready to head back. I've dealt with all sorts of people in my life, but none as annoying as someone who believes they are more important than you. I would have to make it a point to let him know I work on my own terms. After my delay in getting down to the lobby.
I didn't have time to take a shower, so I settled for washing my body with a washrag and slapping some deodorant on. If I was going out on a date I would've spent a little more time cleaning up, but I knew I was just heading to see a large hole in the ground and didn't need to look pristine.
For my wardrobe, I chose to wear a blue polo shirt and a pair of Carhartt bluejeans. Pretty much my standby apparel for when I visit a place like this in the summer. Shorts and a tee shirt would be preferable, but for the initial meeting I needed something more professional yet still practical.
I strolled out of the elevator nearly ten minutes later as promised. Near the front desk I saw an overweight guy wearing a green button up shirt and a pair of khakis sitting in one of the lobby chairs waiting on me. He was nearly bald with a small tuft of hair on the top of his head though he sported a cleanly trimmed beard that made up for it. As I got close I could tell he was talking to him self, no doubt preparing for the speech he would have to give Mr. Bates when we pulled into the cemetery. For a moment I debated turning around and going back to my room, just to make him sweat some more, but my conscience got the better of me and I walked over and introduced myself.
"You must be the driver," I offered my outstretched hand, which he ignored as he leapt to his feet.
"And you are late. We need to get on the road like yesterday, otherwise Mr. Bates is going to have my hide."
I walked through the front door, deliberately staying behind the driver while he continued to mutter something under his breath I couldn't make out. He stopped in front of a black Cadillac and opened the re
ar passenger door for me, which I promptly ignored and walked to the front door and took a seat on the passenger side. He opened his mouth to protest, but I interrupted him. "I don't care what he thinks."
He shut the back door and waddled over to the driver side door and slid behind the wheel. As he turned the key, the stereo blared into existence playing a song by Celine Dion. His face went beet red as he turned the volume down with the controls on the steering wheel.
"Where is the cemetery anyway?"
"Mr. Bates bought a plot of land off of 310 just west of the city. About a fifteen minute drive as long as the traffic is good."
That still put the cemetery smack dab in the Mississippi River basin, meaning the soil would be relatively loose and soft. That did at least increase the number of things that could dig up a mausoleum, but the amount of people who could lift it would still be limited. I had always wondered why people would want to bury their dead around here. Sure, the city had a reputation of being a place that celebrated the cycle of life, but after Katrina when thousands of graves were uprooted, I would've wanted to get the bodies well out of the area before another disaster hit.
The drive to the cemetery was as fast as promised with half of the trip taking place on Airline Highway on the out of the city and past a Waffle House which had me hungry. I could eat their chili smothered hash browns all day long though I suspected the driver would be against getting breakfast at this point. The last part of the drive was through a dense forested area, with trees being the only sight from the side of the road.
We got off on an exit ramp that dumped us next to the river, followed the new road to the east for a few blocks before going north, back towards the forested area we had just passed. The entrance to the cemetery was one of those vintage stonework archways with a metal picketed gate that immediately reminded me of Pet Cemetery. It was on the other side of a dual set of railroad tracks that lead from east to west, following the Mississippi.
An impending feeling of dread washed over me as we drove through the archway and into the cemetery. I don't have a fear of the dead, per se, but the thought of being surrounded by dead bodies definitely made me uneasy. Like every other well kept cemetery I'd been to, the grass was perfectly manicured and the trees and bushes well trimmed. I looked around trying to find signs of the mausoleum or tracks leading to it, but came up empty. The driver had pulled up to the front of the sole building on the plot before I could take a second look.
Out front an older man with a head full of thick gray hair and a clean shaven face stood up from the stone bench in front of the building, looked down at his watch, and shook his head.
"I told you he would be mad," the driver said as he hurried out his door and ran around the car to let me out.
"Well, well. I see my driver finally decided to bring you here. I must apologize for his tardiness."
Before the driver could open his mouth to protest, I spoke up. "It was my fault, not his. I forgot to set my alarm or to set up a wake-up call before I went to bed. If he hadn't called the room, I would still be asleep."
"Very well," Mr. Bates looked at the driver and waved an outstretched hand. The driver nodded and quickly walked inside the building. "I assume the rest of your trip went without a hitch?"
"The layover in Dallas was extended thanks to a rolling storm, but otherwise, everything else was fine."
"Good, good." Mr. Bates motioned me to follow and took off down one of the paved roadways. Looking around, the cemetery had to have been relatively new. Most of the gravestones and mausoleums around were freshly polished and not covered with ivy like every picture of New Orleans cemeteries I had always seen. To be fair, this site seemed to be more gravestones than anything, telling me this was a cemetery for a poorer customer base.
He turned to walk a small asphalt cart path leading up a hill. "What I brought you to see is just over the crest. I should warn you, the scene may disturb you."
"You talking about bodies scattered everywhere?"
"We cleaned those up days ago. Perhaps it would be best if you saw it with your own eyes."
My curiosity was piqued. What could be so disturbing about a large stone grave being removed from the ground if the bodies weren't scattered around. When we reached the top of the hill, I fully understood what he meant.
The mausoleum was definitely one of the larger ones in the place. The main entrance to the structure was lying on the ground half buried in the soft dirt of another hill. It was attached to a concrete basement looking structure that looked to be thirty feet wide and deep. Over half of the mausoleum was out of the ground though there was a portion still in the large hole not visible underground. Around the thing dirt was scattered everywhere with no regard as to what it landed on. It was not piled up neatly as I would have hoped, not that there was a human being alive that could've tipped it over if he had the ability to dig it up.
As I got close, I could make out what looked like hundreds of small footprints in the top layer of dirt. There was a parallel set of tire tracks leading to, around, and then away from the site. Probably the cart they used to gather the bodies, I told myself trying not to think about walking on the ground they may have been resting on just days before.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a few pictures of the scene, making sure I got I got a few good ones of the footprints. "Were the footprints here the first morning?"
"They were. None of my people were on the grounds that night. I hire one security officer to patrol the grounds overnight, to keep something like this from happening."
I tried, and failed, to hide my surprise. "Something like this has happened before?"
"Not to this extent. Mainly dug up graves or damaged headstones. Things of that nature."
"I'd like to ask the security guard a few questions, if you don't mind."
"He is no longer working for me. I put in a request the next morning for a new security officer to take his place." He sighed, exhaling sharply out of his nose. "One that can stay awake for the duration of his shift."
I'd seen it before. Working the graveyard shift is not for everyone, but even then, why would you take a job like this when you know you couldn't handle staying awake for the night. To be fair, Mr. Bates seemed like the kind of guy who would've fired the security officer anyway, just to prove a point. Even if that point was that no screw-ups were allowed.
"Then how about his name and the company he works for?"
"I can arrange that." He folded his arms behind his back and walked out in front of me. "What do you think caused this?"
I shrugged, not that he could see it. "There are only a few things I know that can do something like this. If you've already ruled out construction vehicles, that leaves something supernatural."
"My thoughts exactly. That is why I called you in, Mr. Gilmore. Sure, I could do the research on my own and figure it out. But what would I do with the information once I had it? I'm an old man and hardly capable of fighting something that could do this."
I was with him in that. Whatever caused this may have been too much for even me to handle. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take a few pictures of the scene. I'll need to take these back to the hotel and cross reference the damage with similar attacks. See if I can narrow down our culprits a bit."
"Interesting. I didn't know a database like that exists. I'd very much like to see this database of yours."
I shook my head. "Private server." Even if I wanted to share the server with him, and I didn't, the council wouldn't be happy with me. I may give two shakes about what the council thinks of me, having access to the database is enough to keep me from crossing too far over the line.
"Then perhaps I need to renegotiate the terms of your service."
"Seems fair. I'll just leave this to you." I turned and walked down the asphalt walkway, stopping after a few feet to look over my shoulder. "You might want to pray this wasn't a balrogg attack. If it was, that is his nest and he won't be happy that you disturbed it."
I pulled out my phone and searched for the number for a decent cab company to take me back to the airport when the Cadillac pulled up next to me, its tinted windows rolling down as it came to a complete stop.
"Please get in, Mr. Gilmore."
I turned off the phone and glared at him. "I'm not one of your lackeys that is going to cower every time you speak. If you want me here, I run the show. The only thing you need to do is stay out of my way and sign the damn check when I'm done."
"I expect an itemized..."
"Then you can solve this." I walked away from the car. It kept my pace. Nicholas hung out of the window begging me to stay, but I ignored him until I got to the entrance of the cemetery when the car sped up and stopped in front of me. Nicholas jumped out of the car as fast has his legs could manage and stepped in front of me.
"I'm sorry Raymond. My father raised me to be a crude businessman and boss. He always told me that if you don't keep up with everything in your business, it will run along without you. After a while, the best you can hope for is to minimize the damage."
"Let's make something clear. I'm not one of your employees to talk to as you please. The next time you even think about telling me what to do, I walk."
"Understood," he opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off.
"From here on, you pay my normal rate. I only agreed to your rate because I was interested in what could've done something like that myself."
Dead of Night: The Nephalem Files (Book 3) Page 2