by Fox, Stephen
With that sour memory, his mind came back to the present. The phone sat in front of him as he stood, waiting for his now ex-wife to enter his home one final time. Shaking his head, he sat down at the table once more. Fork and knife in hand he began to cut the cold, congealed meat. The phone rang again.
“Captain Underwood? This is Lieutenant Morris. We need you at the station right away.”
“Could this wait until morning, Lieutenant, or have we lost another prisoner?”
“Well, yes sir, we have sir, but not in the way you would think … sir.”
Underwood sighed. “Tell me the details.” He looked longingly at his dinner as his finger found the worn spot on the counter and began moving in circles.
Ten minutes later, Ellen Underwood pulled into her former driveway and found it empty. She really was not surprised to find her ex-husband’s car gone. It had happened so many times before. She shook her head with disgust, not at him but at herself. How could I have taken it for so many years? Never knowing when he would be home, or if he would be home. Thank goodness I finally found the courage to walk out. She pulled her spare key out of her purse, unlocked the door and went in to get her belongings, hoping this would be the last time she would have to put up with the uncertainty of her ex-husband.
“How can someone just walk in here, chop the head off a man guarded by two officers and waltz back out without somebody seeing something?” The mayor was yelling by now. “The press is just beginning to realize what a big story this could be, and now we give them more sensationalism. I can see the headlines now: Bizarre Blood Bandit Beheaded — Police Protection Piss Poor.”
“Mayor Roukasis, we are doing everything we can.” Commissioner Williams tried to calm him, or at least shepherd him into his office where he could blow off a little steam without creating such a spectacle. So far he had met with little success. “But you know it’s going to be nearly impossible to solve. Obviously the person who did this is one of them.”
“So every problem this department faces from now on is going to be blamed on these ‘bogeymen?’ Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No, Mr. Mayor.” Williams was trying to keep calm under the pressure himself, but the politician was getting to him. “We aren’t going to blame everything on the Chosen. But you must admit, anyone who can enter a police station, stroll up three floors, subdue two of my finest men without their even knowing someone was in the room, and chop off a man’s head must be someone special. This same person then strolls back down and out of the building, meanwhile carrying a large bloody sword. I’d say this guy must be pretty incredible. And all this without a single person, most of whom are highly trained to be observant and to recall details; not a single person noticing anything out of the ordinary? Wouldn’t you say this creature must have some special qualifications or powers? We were in the room with Patrick; we know what he could do. Only someone with those kind of powers could have pulled this off.” The Commissioner stopped and tried to regain control.
The mayor calmed a little. “You’re right, of course. But, if this is true, then how do we stop them? We can’t even see them. If we catch them we can’t hold them because we have no proof.” Commissioner Williams shook his head. “We’re powerless.”
“Not necessarily.” Captain Underwood broke in for the first time. The others looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Let’s go into your office, Commissioner.” Once there, Underwood closed the door behind them.
“What gives, Jim?”
Underwood walked over to the television console as he talked. “I had a feeling something like this might happen, so I had a secret video camera rigged in the air vent. These people have existed underground for millennia, I would expect. In that amount of time there had to be recruits who didn’t live up to expectations. Obviously they had to have some way of dealing with members who tried to reveal their secrets. I had the camera installed outside Patrick’s cell while we were interviewing him. Only the technician who installed it knew about the camera. We may not have been able to prevent this, but we should be able to prove who the killer is.” He pulled a video cartridge out of the box he was carrying and inserted it in the VCR.
“Why the secrecy?” Curiosity crept into the mayor’s voice.
“Apparently these ‘Chosen’ have been able to keep tabs on our progress with Patrick. They knew he talked. Rather than spring him, they executed him. More importantly they knew exactly when he would be the most vulnerable and were able to penetrate our security in order to perform the execution. That spells inside information.” He turned on the machine and hit the rewind button. “They have a pipeline. Obviously the fewer people who are aware of our proof, the less chance of it disappearing. The only proof we have of the Chosen is on the video of Patrick’s interrogation, and this video.” He stopped the tape and pressed ‘Play.’
After a few seconds of snow, an image of the hall outside the cell appeared on the screen. The quality of the picture was poor, but Underwood had no trouble identifying Griggs and Samuel, the two patrolmen assigned to guard the suspect’s cell. For a few minutes they appeared to be in spirited conversation. This corresponded with the officers’ accounts of the previous night; they both said they had been discussing the Atlanta Hawks and their current ten-game-winning streak. Williams looked bored. The mayor looked annoyed. Underwood’s finger traced rings on the arm of the chair.
Then it seemed as if someone had flipped a switch. From a lively exchange in the midst of a hearty laugh, both faces went blank and the officers slumped against the wall with eyes staring straight ahead. A shadowed figure appeared on the edge of the screen. Commissioner Williams sat up straight. All fatigue vanished from his face. Mayor Roukasis looked confused. As the figure walked to the cell, there was absolutely no response from the guards; it was as if they had been drugged. The two officials sat in stunned silence as a series of lightning fast moves put both guards down and out in a matter of seconds. The cell opened easily to the shadowy form. The part that astounded Underwood the most is that all of it was done with only one hand. The other arm was busy holding a large saber. Patrick rose from the cot and started to raise one arm in defense as the shadow swung the blade with a swift whirl. The blow struck with such force that the head vaulted into the air and rolled to the far corner of the cell. Both men looked at the other in awe, not that the deed could have been done so cleanly, but that it could have been done by such a small, frail looking woman.
“My God! That’s Maggie O’Mullens! She’s the state senator from our district.” Williams’ face reflected astonishment and outrage at the same time. “A woman her size should have trouble even carrying that sword with two hands, let alone lopping off someone’s head with one swing. How could …?”
“You forget, she’s one of the Chosen.” Underwood gestured toward the screen. “She’s stronger, faster, smarter than we are. The question we have to solve is not how she did it; it’s how can we stop her from doing it again?”
Williams folded his arms, “Well, hell, we get some officers and we go up to her office and arrest her.”
A horrified expression came over the mayor’s face. “Are you crazy?”
Underwood jumped back in. “Commissioner, the woman is a middle-aged lady who’s not even five feet tall, and she’s a State Senator to boot. Who would believe that this little old lady can wield that sword, let alone chop off a man’s head? To arrest her now would be the end of our careers. Even with the videotape, we would probably not get a conviction. People simply wouldn’t believe the tape.”
“Then what good is it?”
“Well, now we know who and where one of these people is, and the Chosen don’t know that we know. It gives us an edge.
The mayor got up and paced as he talked. “So you are going to assign someone to follow her? What if she suspects? Do you know what could happen if she lodges a complaint?”
“If she realizes she’s being followed, we’ll lose our advantage, but she wouldn’t make a com
plaint. That would draw attention to the situation, which is the last thing she would want. Let’s just keep an occasional eye on her from afar and learn more about the situation.”
“I agree with the captain.” Both men looked toward the commissioner. “I think at this stage it would be better to check on her from time to time, but from a distance. If the situation changes, we know where to find her.”
“We need some discreet inquiries into her personal and business affairs. I also want a wiretap on her phones, both office and home. We may not be able to use the information in court, but perhaps we’ll find out more about these things.”
“And meanwhile?”
“In the meantime,” Underwood went on, “I’m going to light a fire under Dr. Bell and his crew to find us some way to identify these people.”
The meeting concluded with the mayor reconciled that they weren’t going to go out and put a state senator in handcuffs, thereby ending Roukasis’ political career.
Underwood headed west toward the airport and the Georgia Regional Investigative Laboratory. GRIL was one of four regional crime labs built to ease the demands on the central organization, giving the state lab more time to devote to the more difficult and usually high profile cases. Designed to house all the scientific investigators under one roof, the top three floors of the first wing contained laboratories where tests could be conducted on substances found at crime scenes, from fibers to semen. These labs were nearly the equivalent of the state crime labs. In the past most material to be tested would have to be sent to Atlanta and usually took weeks to get results back. The regional office could usually cut the turn-around time in half.
B-Wing also contained a ballistics lab where weapons and bullets could be examined. In addition, there were two large shooting ranges on site, one indoors and one outdoors. Both ranges could be used for the various ballistics tests and for refresher courses for law enforcement officers. Three classrooms were also on this wing for review classes, advancement tests, visitors’ education and other purposes.
The other wing was devoted to the forensic aspects of crime. A Wing contained the morgue where autopsies were done, as well as other tests to be performed on the bodies that came in. There were three autopsy rooms on the first floor and one on each of the other floors, so lengthy tests and training could be performed without a feeling of being rushed. The fourth floor had five forensic labs where tests could be done away from the more depressing autopsy rooms. Testing blood and other tissue samples, both from the living and dead, was a growing concern of law enforcement. Whether the victim or the suspect took drugs or alcohol usually made a big difference in the courtroom, so extensive testing could be done. Two labs were designed exclusively for DNA testing, which is called for more and more in criminal trials. Private elevators were used to transport bodies and other specimens from floor to floor. A-Wing also contained the offices for the director, Samuel D. Bell. This man choreographed the activities for all the labs and kept the entire complex running smoothly and, hopefully, within budget. Seldom found in his office, he could usually be found looking over someone’s shoulder, making constructive suggestions. In hectic times he could, and often did, jump in and perform any of the myriad tasks that needed doing. Always happiest when he was deep in a hands-on project, his staff admired his willingness to pitch in, and they repaid him with back-breaking hours and devotion to duty. But Bell was also a born administrator; his analytical mind kept the administrative duties from interfering with the quest for knowledge and kept the answers flowing. Law enforcement officials around the state praised his efforts.
Twenty-five minutes after his discussion with the commissioner, Captain Underwood walked through the front doors of GRIL. The receptionist recognized him and waved him toward A-Wing. He walked down the corridor, until he heard Bell’s voice coming from one of the doorways. “No, no. You can’t forget the refractal angle of the water. Try subtracting this.”
Another voice, soft and low. “Ah, yes. That explains the discrepancy. Thank you, doctor.”
Jim entered the lab. As the two figures turned and looked in his direction, he was reminded of a scene from Beauty and the Beast. The tall figure standing over the table weighed at least 300 pounds. Even before the large red scar covering his left cheek, the hooked nose and pock marks from severe acne in his youth left most people cringing inwardly when confronted with Bell. A brilliant medical student, he chose forensics so that contact with the public would be minimal. Only the people who got to know him could work their way past the rough exterior.
The woman seated next to him was as beautiful as he was ugly. Long silky black hair, enormous emerald eyes and a smile that could light candles. The white lab coat hid her form, but Underwood knew she had worked her way through medical school as a model. Undoubtedly the most intelligent assistant Doctor Bell had on his staff, she was also his daughter.
“Jim! Good to see you.” Dr. Bell beamed. Underwood always wondered how a man that worked with death all day could be so cheerful, but Dr. Bell never let his work get him down. “What brings you down to this hellhole? Or do I even need to ask? It’s got to be this vampire thing.”
Marie Bell looked up at the captain with a sparkle in her eyes and greeted him. “Hello, Jim.”
Underwood felt like an awkward schoolboy every time he looked into her gorgeous eyes. “Uh, hi Marie.” But business first. He managed to tear his gaze from the beautiful girl and turned to her father. “I need help with this one, Doctor. I need to find a way of distinguishing these creatures from regular people. We need as much information as we can get, and soon.”
“Well, the best way to get information is to ask that fellow and observe him closely.”
“Sounds good, but he’s no longer available. Some one chopped his head off a couple of hours ago. He should have arrived here already.”
Bell’s eyebrows rose, the only sign of surprise he allowed. “Ah, well. I haven’t been in the morgue all morning. We’ve been too busy with this blood thing. Also one of our interns asked us to review his results on a Savannah River problem. This is the first time we’ve left Marie’s lab today.”
Underwood shot to attention. “You mean the Patrick blood? What about it? Are there differences in his blood?”
“Oh my, yes. But first things first. Here is the autopsy on the Parker boy. As you suspected, he was cut a minimum of 250 times. Virtually every drop of blood was drained from his body.”
The captain sighed inwardly. Always a stickler for his “by the numbers” approach to a case, Dr. Bell couldn’t be hurried in his presentations. “Doctor, the suspect told us all this.”
A shake of the head from Bell. “And of course you believe everything that your suspects tell you. Anyway this authenticates his story, so you’ve got more reason to be sure he was telling the truth in the other areas.” Bell smirked for a second, and resumed his narration. “From the first laceration, the victim was kept alive for at least two hours — probably longer. Also the cuts and slashes have been matched up to seven different knives in the arsenal seized at the scene. This guy seems to be an old pro at this.”
“He’s also very dead, so this isn’t going to help much. Now what about the blood sample we gave you?”
Bell looked at his daughter with a grin. “He’s so impatient. Just like your mother. Maybe that’s why we like him so much.”
Marie blushed. “Father!” Dr. Bell looked at her with such innocence she had to laugh.
Underwood also turned red. “Can we keep the conversation on the problem at hand, please? I need any information you can give me that will help identify people like Patrick.”
Dr. Bell’s eyes widened. “What do you mean people like him? You mean there are more of them?”
Captain Underwood traced his thumb in a circle in the palm of his hand as he talked. “There are possibly hundreds of thousands of them around the world, at least according to Patrick, and, as you so wisely pointed out, you have authenticated much of his story. So if
you don’t mind, spill the beans.”
“All right, all right. Boy, talk about anal retentive.” Bell snickered at the abashed looks on Underwood’s and his daughter’s faces. “The blood sample marked James Patrick has been given the preliminary testing you asked for. It has been identified as human blood, type O negative. Type O blood is known as the universal donor. In other words his blood could be given to anyone and the new body would accept the blood. The negative indicates that it does not have the Rh positive factors which could cause problems. These are antigens, which are complex proteins, that help the immune system. You can give negative blood to others of the same blood type, but giving positive blood to a negative recipient can cause the body to destroy the new blood.”
Bell paused and looked at his daughter, who nodded and continued the conversation. “However this sample was not normal O negative human blood. It contains several types of bodies which have never appeared in any blood I’ve ever tested. Also I’ve found nothing like them described anywhere in the medical journals. As far as we can tell, they have never been discovered before, or at least never published. In fact, we are considering publishing an article on them. “
Underwood looked pensive and his hand began rotating on the tabletop. “Any idea what these things in the blood do?”
Marie noticed his nervous fingers and smiled. “We haven’t had enough time to study them thoroughly, but one seems to be some sort of super lymphocyte. The lymphocytes are the bodies in the blood responsible for cell-mediated immunity; in other words the defenses produced by the cell itself.”
“You mean white blood cells. I took biology in high school.”
Marie shook her head. “No, Jim. White blood cells, called leucocytes, are produced in the bone marrow. While they help protect us from disease, they don’t work alone. Lymphocytes are created in the lymph glands. Some lymphocytes produce antibodies which make the bacteria and other foreign bodies clump together, so that bodies called macrophages can engulf them and dissolve them.”