Teller of Lies (Gray Spear Society Book 13)

by Alex Siegel

  "OK." Yang faced Jia. "It's a date."

  She blushed and smiled.

  * * *

  Hanley and Katie were waiting in the examination room of the Marin County Coroner's Office. Hanley had been in places like it many times before. There was a big, steel table which was sturdy enough to support a heavy corpse. Drains and pumps would suck away noxious liquids during autopsies. He heard the rumble of an oversized ventilation system for dealing with odors. Sinks and an abundance of cleaning products were within easy reach. A large, plastic trash can had a lid with an air-tight seal and biohazard stickers on it.

  The legionnaires were alone. An orderly had gone off to fetch a corpse.

  "What did 'King Edward' say again?" Hanley said. "Try to remember the exact words."

  "The year is 1936," Katie said. "I'm King Edward of England, and you're Sheila, my secret consort."

  He frowned. He was trying to imagine what Marina was going through. The poor woman was faced with the problem of rationalizing something that could not be rationalized.

  "We could put out a personal ad," Katie said. "It could say King Edward is looking for Sheila. When Marina sees it, she'll call the number right away."

  "It's very unlikely she'll see that ad. I'm sure she's not spending a lot of time reading newspapers right now. We need to broadcast a message to the entire Bay Area. We need a whole ad campaign, but one that won't tip our hand to the enemy. It has to be subtle."

  An Indian man pushed a metal gurney into the examination room. A blue sheet covered a body on the gurney. He and Hanley worked together to transfer the body to the examination table.

  "That's all," Hanley said. "Thank you."

  The orderly nodded and left.

  Hanley pulled off the sheet. The victim was a male Caucasian in excellent physical condition. The hole in his head was small on one side and large on the other, and the space in between had been cleaned out.

  "I didn't see a lot of bodies when I was in the Air Force," Katie said. "Joining the Society changed that. Now I feel like a coroner."

  "Maybe we should take some classes and get properly trained as coroners."

  "That's a good idea. I'm sure Marina would approve."

  Hanley leaned over the body. "Let's get to work. We're looking for identifying marks."

  They were already wearing latex gloves. They poked and prodded the corpse from head to toe. It was fresh enough that rigor mortis hadn't stiffened the muscles yet, and the odor wasn't bad at all.

  The legionnaires found nothing useful though. There weren't even tattoos or interesting scars.

  "A clean, white boy," Katie said. "Let's take pictures and fingerprints. Maybe Min Ho can match them."

  She used the high-resolution camera in her phone to photograph the corpse. In the meantime, Hanley used materials from an evidence collection kit to take fingerprints. The two of them were pretending to be FBI forensics technicians from San Francisco.

  When they were done, they pulled off their gloves and threw them in the garbage.

  "Maybe the personal effects will be more informative," Hanley said.

  Katie nodded.

  The Coroner's Office was in the Marin County Civic Center along with many other county departments. The building was huge, but the Coroner's Office was small. It had a staff of just one sergeant, three investigators, and an assistant. They were eager to help the FBI and took the legionnaires straight to the evidence storage room. Several lockers were dedicated to the five murders committed in the parking lot.

  There were a lot of nice guns. Some had been found on the bodies, and others had been discovered in the car. The weapons included some very modern and expensive Adaptive Combat Rifles. Hanley took pictures of model and serial numbers.

  "This is interesting," Katie said.

  She showed him a white Bible with a soft cover. It was small enough to fit in a jacket pocket. She flipped through the pages slowly, and many were dog-eared or stained from use. Passages on almost every page were highlighted in yellow. Cramped notes were written in all the margins with precise penmanship. It was a Bible that had been studied for countless hours.

  "A Christian cult?" Hanley said.

  Katie shrugged. "Possibly. People do all kinds of crazy things in the name of God." She smiled as if the statement were funny.

  He checked to make sure nobody else could overhear them. "You never told me your views on religion."

  "I was raised by good Lutherans. We went to church every Sunday, but as I grew older, I drifted away from it. I got tired of people having the wrong kind of faith."

  He raised his eyebrows. "The wrong kind?"

  "The stupid kind," she said. "The lazy kind. Some people just want to be told what to think. They use faith as an excuse to not use their brains. That's one thing I like about the Society. We're expected to think for ourselves. Marina is always open to fresh ideas. It could've easily been an oppressive organization where everybody was expected to pray twenty times a day and memorize books of rules."

  "I'm sure a little of that freedom is just from Marina. She's really grown as a leader."

  Katie paused and looked down. "What if we lose her?"

  "I suppose the legate will appoint a replacement," Hanley said softly.

  "It will probably be you."

  "Ipo wouldn't like that."

  "I know, but he would understand," she said. "He's a fine lieutenant but not much of a captain. You have all kinds of leadership experience from before you joined the Society. People automatically respect you."

  He sighed. "It won't happen anyway. Marina is the toughest bitch I've ever met. Insane or not, she'll destroy anybody who gets in her way."

  She nodded.

  They continued searching through the evidence. The dead men had worn white suits, white shoes, and red belts. Aside from the blood spatters, the clothing was pristine. The suits had been bleached so often, the printing on the labels had faded. That kind of obsessiveness supported the hypothesis that the men had been members of a cult. Hanley took more pictures.

  Finally, he said, "I think we're done. Let's go home."

  He and Katie left the Coroner's Office. They walked swiftly back towards their car.

  The Marin County Civic Center was fairly crowded. It looked a lot like an indoor shopping mall except there were offices instead of stores. Hanley liked the elegant, open architecture.

  When they reached the parking lot and could speak privately, he said, "I have an idea."

  "Oh?" Katie looked at him.

  "We'll create a special museum exhibit dedicated to King Edward the Eighth. Marina will be compelled to check it out, but the enemy won't realize what we're up to. We just have to wait for her to show up."

  She smiled. "That's a great idea, and we can use a picture of Aaron's face in the ads somehow. Maybe a subtle placement in the background so only Marina will notice. That will really get her attention. But setting up a whole museum exhibit takes weeks."

  "The advertising is more important than the actual exhibit. We just need Marina to come. Let's call the legate and see what she thinks."

  They reached their car. It was a brown sedan with a few little dings and scratches. Nobody would look twice at it. The legionnaires sat inside.

  Hanley took out his phone. He didn't have the legate's number, so he called Ipo instead, and he included the legate in a conference call. The whole team was soon part of the conversation.

  Hanley explained his idea.

  "I like it," the legate said. "It's a subtle but effective plan. I'll call the legate of Europe and ask him to ship some real artifacts owned by King Edward. They should get here by tomorrow."

  He smiled. There were advantages to having one of the most powerful people in the world on the team.

  The legate continued, "Let's open the exhibit tomorrow night."

  "So soon?" Hanley said with astonishment.

  "Every minute of delay puts Marina and Olivia at greater risk. We'll get the whole team involved,
including Wesley's protection team. They're not busy. It should be possible."

  "Yes, ma'am. I'd also like Min Ho to examine all the pictures we just took. He might be able to identify those men."

  "OK," the legate said. "Get back here. We need to work out the details."

  "We're on our way, ma'am. Bye."

  Hanley hung up and drove off.

  * * *

  Marina looked up at a sign which read, "Ancient Light Bookshop." It was red with gold lettering.

  "This is it," she said.

  "I don't think this is a good idea," Olivia said.

  Marina looked down at the girl. She was wearing a new blue dress because the old one had started to look dingy. Matching blue ribbons were tied in her black hair.

  "Why not?" Marina said.

  "I just don't think it will help."

  "It can't hurt. Let's go in."

  They entered the shop. Even though the sign indicated it sold books, Marina didn't see a lot of books on display. Medicinal herbs in jars filled shelves on one wall. There was a rack of postcards showing zodiac symbols and angelic images. Crystals of all colors and sizes were available for sale. Incense smoke made her nose itch.

  One aisle actually did have bookshelves. She wandered over and browsed the selection. One was entitled, "Complete Book of Witchcraft," and she wondered who would buy such a thing. Another book called "Healing Crystals" made her equally skeptical.

  A young woman in a black, beaded dress came over. "Can I help you?"

  Marina smiled at her. "Yes. I need to see Madame Blavatsky."

  "Oh. Do you have an appointment?"

  "No, but I have plenty of cash."

  "Then she'll probably talk to you." The woman pointed to a black door in the back of the shop. "She's upstairs."

  Marina and Olivia went through the door. They climbed a steep wooden staircase, and each step creaked dramatically. They came to another door with a sign that read, "Madame Blavatsky is available for readings." Marina pushed open the door.

  She entered a small apartment, and Olivia followed so closely, Marina almost tripped over her. Flickering electric candelabras provided the only source of light in the main room. Rugs covered all the windows, and tape sealed the cracks to prevent light from leaking around the edges. Instead of couches or chairs, there were piles of embroidered pillows on the floor. The only real furniture was a circular table made of obsidian chips glued together.

  A middle-aged woman with pale skin was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. A heavy, black shawl covered her head and body, leaving only her face exposed. A white crystal was attached to a headband, and it hung between her eyes.

  "Madame Blavatsky?" Marina said.

  The woman nodded. "How may I help you, child?"

  "We were told you're one of the best psychics around. I have a problem. Maybe you can help me."

  "I usually work by appointment only. You're lucky you caught me without a client."

  "I'll pay extra," Marina said.

  "A hundred dollars for a basic reading, and another hundred for a spiritual consultation."

  "No problem."

  Marina took out a cash roll, peeled off two hundred dollars, and handed the money over. She and Olivia sat on stacks of lumpy pillows and tried to get comfortable.

  Madame Blavatsky smiled. "What's your problem?"

  "I think my spirit travelled in time from 1936 and occupied this body. I don't belong here."

  "I see. You're not the first person I've met with that sort of complaint. Spirits often end up in the wrong places, and I'm sure I can help you. Let's start with a reading. Carefully shuffle the cards, please. Keep your mind open to influences while you do so."

  Blavatsky gave a deck of cards to Marina. They were made of thick, stiff cardstock, and elaborate illustrations were drawn on them. Marina had difficulty shuffling them normally, so she just mixed them around on the table.

  Blavatsky gathered up the cards, cut the deck a few times, and laid out five cards in a cross pattern. They were placed face-down, and one at a time, she dramatically turned them over. Each card had a title below the illustration, and they were Death, Lovers, Empress, Tower, and Judgment.

  Blavatsky furrowed her brow. "Very unusual."

  "What?" Marina said.

  "Five major arcana at once. Let's do it again."

  They repeated the shuffling and dealing procedure. Exactly the same five cards in the same positions were revealed.

  Blavatsky stared at the cards. "Is this some kind of stunt? Did you do something to my deck?"

  "No," Marina said. "Of course not. What does it mean?"

  Blavatsky was silent. After a long moment, she turned to Olivia and said, "You're a pretty little girl. Why are you wearing sunglasses? The room is dark."

  Olivia took off her sunglasses and revealed her black and white eyes. Blavatsky gasped.

  "Are you going to help me?" Marina said. "I paid you."

  Blavatsky licked her lips. "Um. I have something to confess."

  "What?"

  "I'm a complete fraud. I'm not a real psychic. The only thing I know how to do is tell people what they want to hear. That's the secret of successful tarot readings: making the mark feel good. Hope and happiness are worth money, even if it's all bullshit. I've been doing this for thirty years, and today is the first time I had a legitimate experience. I don't think I can help you, and I'm afraid to try. That was a terrifying reading. I'm sorry."

  Marina looked down.

  "But I do know somebody," Blavatsky said. "She's a Wiccan, a witch. Her name is Rachiel. If anybody in the Bay Area has real talent, it would be her. She's a legend in the business."

  "Where is she?"

  "That's the problem. She doesn't see clients. She never touches money. She spends all her time in the Santa Cruz Mountains with her coven, somewhere around Camp Hammer in Boulder Creek. You'll have a hard time finding her, but if you can, I'm sure it will be worth the trouble."

  Marina smiled. "Thank you."

  "Now get out of here, please. I need some time alone."

  Marina and Olivia left the apartment, walked downstairs, and went outside. It was a bright, sunny day.

  "How do you feel about a vigorous hike in the mountains?" Marina said.

  "Do we have to?"

  "Yes."

  Olivia pouted. "OK."

  * * *

  Vulture watched the video for the twentieth time. It was surveillance footage taken from the Marin County Civic Center, and it showed a woman and a girl leaving a conference room. The girl had black hair and sunglasses, but she was unmistakably Olivia Bellar. The woman had the same black hair which didn't match her skin tone and clearly had been dyed. She had become a curse on his existence.

  Let's make life a little less comfortable for that bitch, Vulture thought.

  He walked over to the console operator in charge of public communications and social media. She was the youngest member of his command team, around twenty-five years-old. Her brown hair was brushed out, and she was wearing a bit too much makeup for a job that was strictly professional. Her red uniform fit her slim body well.

  She looked up at Vulture. "Sir?"

  "Put out the following story. The person who murdered Tom and Jessica Bellar has been identified. It's that woman in the surveillance video. Try to isolate a clear image of her face, and include it in the story. Mention that she used to have red hair."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Also," he said, "she abducted Olivia Bellar. Grab a fresh picture of the girl showing her with black hair and sunglasses. We believe the unknown woman still has the girl. She is armed and extremely dangerous. Any information should be immediately reported to the authorities, and so on and so forth. Make sure you hit every media outlet. I want blanket coverage."

  "I'll get on it right away, sir," the female operator said.

  "Good." Vulture nodded encouragingly.

  He walked over to the man responsible for monitoring official communications ch
annels. He was in his fifties and had bags under his eyes. His gray hair was a little unkempt.

  "I'm planting a story that should smoke out the enemy," Vulture said. "Pay close attention. If we get a hit, we'll have to act very fast."

  "Yes, sir," the operator said.

  * * *

  "Sir! Ma'am!" Min Ho yelled. "We have a problem!"

  Ipo ran over, and the legate was a few steps behind him.

  "What?" Ipo said.

  Min Ho pointed to a news story on his computer screen. It showed a picture of Marina, and Ipo recognized the shot from the surveillance video he had seen earlier. The story described her as the murderer of Tom and Jessica Bellar. It was clearly intended to get Marina caught by the police.

  "Kill the story!" the legate said.

  "But it's all over the internet, ma'am," Min Ho said nervously.

  "I don't care! I don't want Marina's face on display for the world to see. Write a virus or something. Make that story disappear now. Jia, help him!"

  "Yes, ma'am," Jia said from the other side of the computer area.

  "And if you need more help, you have my permission to talk to hackers on other teams," the legate added. "This is top priority. Only the twins in Chicago are off limits."

  Min Ho swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

  She stepped away, and Ipo followed her. They walked over to a table where Corrie performed chemical analysis. Beakers, test tubes, Bunsen burners, and other apparatus were arranged neatly on the plastic surface.

  "This strikes me as a desperate move by the enemy, ma'am," Ipo said.

  The legate nodded. "They're running out of patience, which is good. It means Marina and Olivia are still at large. Hopefully, they can survive on their own for one more day. Now let's get back to planning the museum exhibit."

  * * *

  "Sir!" a console operator yelled. "Something is happening!"

  Vulture ran back over to the woman in charge of public communications. He wasn't surprised there was a problem, but it had taken just twenty minutes.

  "What?" Vulture said.

  "The news story is disappearing."

  "What do you mean?"

  The operator looked up at him. "Somebody is erasing it everywhere. I've never seen anything like this, sir. Posts and articles are being deleted like crazy. Secure servers are being hacked. Even private messages are being edited. Who has that kind of power?"