First Circle Club

by Alex Siegel

  "Nice stuff," Lisa said.

  "Don't assume it's all authentic," Sara said. "We're in a tourist trap after all."

  She led Virgil and Lisa through the shop to an open door in back. They walked down a steep flight of wooden stairs to a basement where more antiques were stored. These items were jammed together and coated with dust. Widely spaced bare bulbs provided yellowish light.

  Sara kept going until she finally reached a corner of the basement relatively free of clutter. Alfred and Mr. Li were standing there accompanied by an old Chinese woman.

  "Hey guys," Alfred said. "This is Mrs. Deng. She has agreed to rent this space to us."

  Virgil looked around. He didn't see any water stains or worrisome cracks in the concrete walls. Small, high windows would allow natural light to sneak in during the day. An exterior stairwell in the back of the building provided direct access to the basement, so the team could get in and out easily. They could use some of the furniture to create an office space. There was even a utility sink with hot and cold faucets.

  The lack of amenities didn't bother Virgil. He didn't need a kitchen or a bathroom because he had no digestive system. He didn't expect to need a bed either. Sleep was for the living. The team mostly just needed a safe place to store their stuff and have meetings.

  "This will do nicely," Virgil said. "How much is the rent?"

  "Three hundred a month," Mrs. Deng replied in a soft voice.

  The number seemed high to him, but he had no clue about modern rental prices. He reached into the bag of money and took out nine hundred dollars.

  "The first three months." He handed over the cash.

  She smiled politely while counting the money.

  After she finished counting, she gave him a worn brass key. "Don't make a lot of noise. Come in through the back."

  "Of course," Virgil said.

  Mrs. Deng walked off.

  Virgil turned to Mr. Li. "Thanks for finding this place. I'd like to speak with my friends alone now. We'll see you back at your shop."

  Mr. Li nodded and also left.

  Virgil said to his team, "He must be wondering what we want with a dirty basement."

  "I explained it to him," Alfred said cheerfully.

  Virgil widened his eyes. "You told him the truth?"

  "No. Of course not. I told him we were time travelers who had come from the past to stop a future crime."

  "Come again." Virgil leaned forward.

  "The story goes like this. Within a few months, a terrorist is going to set off an atomic bomb in Chicago. It kills millions of people and kicks off World War III. A man from the distant future travelled back to pluck us from the past. We were brought here to stop the tragedy before it happened. The future man also gave us special powers using super-technology."

  Virgil paused. "You certainly get points for creativity, even if the story doesn't make much sense. If the man from the future knows what's going to happen, why can't he stop it himself?"

  "My story makes as much sense as that nonsense about Aamon you told the gang boss."

  "Touché. Regardless, we're stuck with your story now. We all need to rehearse it so we'll be consistent."

  "Yes," Alfred said, "and we should clean this place up and make it a proper headquarters. We can use some of the old furniture. I'm sure Mrs. Deng won't mind as long as we don't do any damage. She privately confessed that all the antiques are modern reproductions made in Mexico." He smirked.

  "Wait, before we do any redecorating, I want to visit Shipman's sister."

  "He has a sister?"

  "Patricia," Virgil said, "and according to the internet-thingy, she lives in Chicago. I'm sure Mei can get her exact address. We'll go right after Mei finishes our IDs. I want to talk to the sister tonight."

  Chapter Five

  The navigation system in the car guided the team to a house on the outskirts of Chicago where the city blended into farmland. The neighborhood featured large lots, lush lawns, and an abundance of mature trees. Patches of native forest were interspersed between the homes. The streets were paved, but weeds had sprouted up through cracks. Drainage ditches ran along both sides of the road.

  Virgil parked the car on a long, winding driveway and got out. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees. Objectively, he knew it was a warm night, but the air still felt cool to him.

  A mosquito landed on his arm, and he smirked. Good luck with that, little guy, he thought.

  Sara, Lisa, and Alfred joined Virgil. They looked at a small white house almost hidden by trees. The lights were on inside.

  "Are we sticking with the time traveler story?" Virgil said.

  "Too silly," Lisa said. "I want to save that one for special occasions. We have state police ID's now, so let's use them. A copycat serial killer is on the loose, and we want to know more about the original killer."

  He shrugged. "Works for me."

  Alfred and Sara nodded.

  Virgil led the team up the long driveway to the house. It was a dark night, but he could see well enough. His demonic form had great eyes. His hearing was sharp enough to pick out individual insects in the woods. His sense of smell was dead as a doornail though. The only aroma he could detect was the heavenly scent coming from Alfred and Sara, and to Virgil, it smelled very foul.

  Old instincts made Virgil glance to either side frequently. Trouble could be hiding behind any of the hundreds of trees around him. As a U.S. Marshal, paranoia had saved his life on many occasions, but at the end, he hadn't been paranoid enough.

  Virgil arrived at the front door. The house badly needed a fresh coat of paint, and vines had spread across the entire right side. One corner of the porch had settled causing the entire deck to tilt.

  He knocked.

  While he waited for a response, he checked the appearance of his companions. Everybody was still wearing the same business suits as before, and they could pass for state police detectives. Virgil had purchased a new shirt and jacket on the way to the house. He decided the team needed to buy a much wider variety of clothes as soon as they had time, so they could have the right outfit for every occasion.

  That thought made Virgil wonder how long the mission would last. He wanted to stay on Earth for as long as possible, but Daniel was killing innocent people. Virgil couldn't waste any time.

  After a few minutes, an elderly woman opened the door. Her hair was as white as snow, and her skin was almost as pale. Only her blue eyes had any color. She was wearing a gray knit shirt which had unraveled in spots. She needed a walker for extra support.

  "Patricia?" Virgil said.

  The woman nodded. "What can I do for you?"

  "We're from the Illinois State Police." He took out his wallet and showed his new badge. "We're investigating a serial killer who has already taken five innocent lives."

  "Oh, my."

  "The killer's methods are very similar to Daniel Shipman's."

  "My brother has been dead for a very long time," Patricia said, "and frankly, I'm glad. You can't imagine how much pain he caused his family. The publicity almost made me leave the country."

  "I'm sure, but the perpetrator is clearly inspired by him. We were hoping you could give us some insight into Daniel's motives. It might help us find the new killer."

  She looked down for a long moment. Finally, she nodded. "Of course. Come in."

  She opened the door wider. Virgil walked into a front room with a leather couch and a black coffee table. A glass floor lamp in the corner provided most of the light. A cabinet with glass doors held fine china. Paintings portrayed serene images of boats, flowers, and farmland.

  Sara, Lisa, and Alfred followed Virgil in.

  "I always knew Daniel would be trouble even when he was a boy," Patricia said.

  "Oh?" Virgil said as he took a notepad and a pen from his pocket.

  "He used traps to catch squirrels in the yard. He liked to cut off their heads."

  Virgil grimaced. "That's not good. What did your parents do abo
ut that?"

  "Our mother died giving birth to me. Father was a Baptist minister who was usually too busy to pay much attention to his children."

  "Who raised you?"

  "We lived in a trailer behind the church," Patricia said. "Girls from the church helped take care of us, but my brother and I were alone a lot. I started cooking all the family meals when I was seven."

  "Sounds rough. Aside from the occasional squirrel decapitation, did your brother show other signs of mental illness?"

  "He was obsessed with Heaven and Hell. He talked about them all the time, but it was a family trait. Father preached eternal damnation in almost every sermon."

  "Considering his intensely moral upbringing, it's ironic that Daniel turned into a serial killer," Virgil said.

  "He never treated me badly. I was never afraid of him. He actually took good care of me when I was little."

  "I have a question," Alfred said. "Why do you believe an obsession with Heaven and Hell is a sign of mental illness?"

  Patricia looked at him. "Those places aren't real, of course. Ancient priests made up those stories to scare people into worshipping the right god."

  "So you don't believe in an afterlife?"

  "I've never seen any proof it exists. If we start believing in things just because we want to, where does it stop? I prefer to live in the real world, not some medieval fantasy populated by magical creatures from other planes of existence."

  Alfred raised his eyebrows. "I see."

  "Back to your brother," Virgil said. "We're trying to understand his motivation. Why did he kill?"

  Patricia shrugged. "I've asked myself that question a thousand times. It wasn't out of cruelty. All his victims died quick, clean deaths. They never suffered for long. Even with the squirrels, he chopped off their heads using a single axe stroke. The traps were constructed to be as humane as possible."

  "Killing anything seems intrinsically cruel, regardless of the method."

  "Maybe not in his mind. There are good reasons to kill. Soldiers do it all the time in war."

  Virgil couldn't argue with that point. He had killed in the line of duty on more occasions than he liked to think about. He felt badly about only a few of those deaths.

  "Let's theorize," he said. "I expect you knew Daniel as well as anybody. Can you think of any possible reasons for his behavior?"

  "It might have something to do with our mother," Patricia said. "He was four when she died. Whenever Daniel asked about her, father would just say 'she's in Heaven now.' A picture of her was hung on the wall of the trailer, and he looked at it all the time."

  "That's a little creepy."

  "But perfectly understandable," Alfred interjected in a chiding tone. "Please don't express negative opinions during an interview. It sounds like Daniel was obsessed with Heaven, Hell, and death due to a tragic early childhood and a father who preached fire and brimstone."

  "Yes," Patricia said.

  Alfred's expression brightened. "I might have a theory...."

  Lisa raised her hand. "Hold on. Somebody is in the woods. He's watching us, but don't turn your heads. Don't let him know we know he's there."

  "Where?" Virgil said.

  She nodded slightly towards a window on his left.

  He looked out of the corner of his eye, but he only saw a dark forest outside. "You're sure?"

  "Yes. He's dressed in black. I'll go catch him." She started walking casually across the room.

  "I'll go with you," Virgil said.

  "I don't need your help."

  "A little backup never hurts."

  "Are you coming because I'm a woman? Just don't make any noise, OK?"

  "Hey, if anything, I'll be quieter than you."

  Lisa smiled slightly. "We'll see about that."

  She and Virgil went to the side of the house opposite from the spy. She quietly pushed up a window allowing warm, humid air into the room. She slipped through the opening and landed silently on the grass outside. He did the same.

  Lisa sprinted straight into the woods. Her agility impressed Virgil, and keeping up with her took all his effort. She pranced between the trees like a black gazelle. His new body served him well though, and he didn't lose her in the darkness.

  She circled around towards the spy using the forest as cover. She slowed down and walked in a crouch when she got close. Her footsteps made no noise in the tall grass. He worked hard to do the same, and he was starting to realize she might be more skilled than him.

  Lisa crept to a spot where the grass was pressed down. The spy was gone, but he had left candy wrappers and empty soda cans behind.

  "Damn it," she whispered.

  Virgil noticed a mess of wires in the grass. The wires had small gold connectors on the ends. He yanked on one, and grass near the house moved. He yanked on another, and weeds in the woods rustled.

  "The guy had the house wired," he whispered. "He was performing surveillance. He took his equipment but had to leave the wires behind."

  "That's probably how he saw us coming. He wasn't an ordinary peeping Tom."

  He heard a car engine start. He instantly jumped up and sprinted in the direction of the noise. Lisa ran after him. Neither of them was trying to be quiet now.

  Virgil tripped over a few rocks and sticks, but he managed to stay upright. Even with his excellent eyes, it was hard to run through a dark forest.

  He saw a car's headlights ahead. He swerved in that direction and emerged onto a gravel road. A small red sedan was parked on the side, half in the grass. The engine was running, but nobody was inside. Virgil looked around in confusion.

  Lisa caught up and said, "Where did he go? Why did he leave his car?"

  "I don't know." Virgil stared into the woods anxiously. He didn't like it when bad guys behaved strangely.

  A whistling noise made him spin around. A man dressed in black military fatigues stepped out from behind a tree. He was carrying a military shotgun. Virgil had seen pictures of Daniel Shipman, and this guy wasn't him.

  He fired his gun without warning. Pellets tore into Virgil's chest and knocked him backwards. The man fired his semi-automatic weapon again and hit Lisa. She spun and fell to the ground.

  The assailant peppered Virgil a second time, striking his face and neck. He lost sight in one eye. Another blast from the shotgun blinded him completely. He realized he should've used his terrifying gaze when he had had a chance.

  The injuries weren't causing pain, but he certainly felt uncomfortable. His body wasn't working right.

  He heard Lisa make a guttural scream of rage. She still had her knife. He hoped she was healthy enough to put it to good use.

  The shotgun thundered again. Virgil wasn't hit, so he assumed Lisa was the target. She made an odd choking noise.

  Virgil heard a distinctive click. The shotgun had run out of ammo.

  A car door opened and slammed. It sounded like the car was driving away.

  "Ahh!" Lisa yelled. "Bastard drove over my leg!"

  Virgil sat on the ground. He was badly damaged, but he didn't think he would die. He wondered what it would take to actually destroy him.

  "Lisa," he said, "how are you doing?"

  "Not great," she said. "Messed up face, broken shoulder, squished leg. I'm not about to run a marathon."

  "I think half my face is gone."

  "Ouch."

  "That guy was a professional," Virgil said. "He saw us coming, and he was ready to deal with us. The whole scenario was planned in advance. If we weren't already dead, we'd be... dead."

  "Yeah, and he was watching Patricia's house. Only one possible reason. He knew we would come for information about Daniel. It seems Danny has friends protecting him."

  "This mission just got more complicated."

  Virgil heard approaching footsteps.

  "Virgil!" Sara yelled. "Lisa! Are you alright?"

  "Not quite," Virgil replied.

  "You guys are a mess!" Alfred said. "Ugh!"

  Virgil wished
he could see his teammates, but the world was black.

  "Thank you for your kind words of comfort," he said.

  "I'll try to heal you," Sara said.

  He felt her blowing on what was left of his face.

  "Is that doing anything?" he said.

  "No," she said.

  "Let's just get back to our home base in Chinatown. Lisa and I will probably heal on our own, but it may take a while."

  Somebody helped Virgil to his feet. It felt like Alfred. Virgil shuffled back through the woods, guided by his new friend.

  "How are you doing, Lisa?" Virgil said.

  "Slow but steady," Lisa said, "and very pissed off. If I get my hands on that guy...."

  "What happened?" Sara said.

  Virgil summarized the encounter.

  "This is distressing," Alfred said. "Dealing with Daniel alone was challenging enough. Now it turns out he's part of a conspiracy."

  "I'm not shocked," Virgil said. "I already suspected powerful allies helped him get out of Hell. Nobody can do that on their own. It makes sense that Daniel's mysterious friends are also protecting him on Earth. That might explain why he is invisible on Heaven's and Hell's radar. This case is a lot bigger than just one serial killer."

  "It's OK," Lisa said. "More bad guys to bust means more fun for us."

  Virgil wasn't as enthusiastic. Complicated missions usually meant more civilian casualties. On the other hand, his time on Earth might last longer, hopefully a lot longer.

  * * *

  Ken Walton was bowling in his private alley in the basement of his mansion. The alley had three lanes even though other people rarely used it. An electronic scoring system and colored lights made him feel like he was inside of video game.

  He rolled his ball and knocked down nine pins.

  "Excellent form, sir," his butler said. "I fear you'll beat me again."

  Walton turned around. The butler was wearing a black tuxedo with a pristine white shirt, a gray vest, and a black bowtie. As always, his posture was perfect. He was in his fifties, and in the last few years, he had fallen into the habit of dyeing his short hair black.

  Walton didn't dignify the statement with a reply. Whenever he played a game with his servants, he always won. They knew better than to embarrass him. He simply waited patiently for his ball.