by Hopkin, Ben
Darcmel was broken. And broken tools were fit for nothing more than to be tossed into the garbage heap.
Ah, the fire. That had been a near thing. A survivor without a tongue to speak was, perhaps, less of a risk than many the Intermediary had taken. But usually the risks were taken of necessity.
This one had been for nothing more than ego.
Lesson learned.
But now it was time for the endgame to begin. The best and the brightest were to be gathered together, but as what would appear to be an afterthought. For it was anything but the best and brightest that would congregate in just a few days.
Darcmel. A shame, in truth. Such a beautiful gem, sparkling in the reflected brilliance of the sun of humanity.
But perhaps there was still hope for the flawed detective yet. The fracture that existed might be the type of fault that did no more than demonstrate that the gemstone was not artificial. It remained to be seen.
A sharp blow to the crack would determine the truth.
And the Intermediary held the hammer high.
* * *
“If you had been here like you were supposed to, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Darc watched as Bradley Moore paced around the conference room, where he and the Mayor’s staff had set up a temporary office for Darc, Trey and Mala. Janey had been put to bed in the next office over, after receiving kisses on behalf of herself and her bear from Mala and both of the detectives.
This location did not make sense. Yes, it was on one of the points of the pentagram that overlay the city of Seattle, but it was out of sequence. This should not be the next crime scene.
Bradley Moore had spent the entire two minutes and seventeen seconds making odd noises in his throat and bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other. From what Darc could tell from the executive assistant’s behavior, he was either highly agitated or had a methamphetamine addiction.
At the moment, Darc was leaning toward the latter explanation.
Trey stepped in, stopping the Mayor’s assistant in his tracks. “I get that you’re upset, but we were kind of busy trying to keep our only eye witness to the murders alive.”
Bradley jerked his head back up. “You have a witness?” It was impossible for Darc to ascertain whether the emotion expressed was hope or fear, and the consequences of an incorrect guess would send this investigation in a misguided direction.
“No,” Darc said, drawing the man’s attention away from his partner. “The man died in the hospital.”
“So you’re telling me that the Mayor was taken for nothing,” came the assistant’s response.
Trey threw up his hands. “This is not on us. We’re doing our jobs the best—”
“You went against what your Captain told you to do. You left the Mayor vulnerable when he suspected there might be an attack on him. You—”
“We are here now,” Darc interrupted. “What information do you have?”
Somehow, the interruption to Bradley’s ravings seemed to function as a slap to the face might have. He stopped, his face flushing. Anger? Embarrassment? Or perhaps the man was simply holding his breath.
That seemed to be the case, as the executive assistant let out a long sigh. “Right. Yes. Come with me.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of the conference room, stalking down the hall with a speed that Darc found comforting. In most cases, Darc found that if he was behind others and moving toward a location, he would have to modulate his speed or end up running over the person in front of him.
When Bradley arrived at the Mayor’s office, he stepped to the side to allow Darc and Trey to view the space unimpeded. Trey arrived at Darc’s side several moments after Darc had begun assessing the situation within.
“Holy…” Trey breathed. He seemed shocked by what he saw within. Or excited. Considering the context, shocked was the more logical of the responses, although allowing oneself to be overcome was an inefficient use of resources.
There was a riot of colored streams entering Darc’s consciousness. Never had he encountered a crime scene with as much information to offer as this one. Symbols decorated the walls, the ceiling, even the Mayor’s desk. It seemed as if there were no space where at least some information was not available.
The Golden Spiral. The Sword and the Naked Heart. The Compass and the Square. The Scythe. Image after image, either having to do with Freemasonry or Sacred Geometry. Some would say two those could be synonymous.
The pentagram had been inscribed on the desk with what looked to be some sort of cutting instrument. The lines were not as precise as what Darc had come to expect from the killer, as if these were done in haste. Jagged edges to the circle, a lack of geometric symmetry and a disregard to the overall aesthetic marred the mathematical ratios and proportions that made this symbol such an evocative one.
Around the ragged circle were the typical mix of Hittite, Greek, Latin and Aramaic lettering and numerals. Missing was the progression of numbers that had been present for every other one of the murders.
“Hey, the freaky numbers at the top aren’t there,” Trey mentioned, looking down at the desk. “What d’you think that means?”
“It could mean that this action was intended to be significantly different from the others,” Mala mused. “Which, considering what the others indicated, might be a good thing.”
“What is she talking about?” Bradley moved in closer to the desk. “Who is this? We asked for Detectives Darcmel and his partner—”
“Hey!” Trey interjected. “I have a name.”
The assistant continued as if there had been no interruption. “But there was nothing said about a woman.”
“Whoa. Dude.” Trey held out a hand, risking a glance at Mala. “Better back that one up.”
The assistant did not seem to understand for a moment, then his expression changed. The significance of the change was lost on Darc until his next statement.
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I don’t have any issues with you being a woman. It’s just that I don’t know who you are, and…” He waved his hands in a vague gesture.
“And considering the circumstances, you want to know what you’re dealing with,” Mala finished for him.
“Right,” he answered, giving her the approximation of a smile. That was Darc’s assessment of the expression. The lips had turned up somewhat, although it could have been interpreted as more of a grimace. He would ask Trey later.
“I’m a consultant with the Seattle PD,” Mala explained, her tone gentle. “I’m a psychologist.”
“Oh, so you’re like a profiler?”
“Exactly. I’m here to support Detectives Keane and Darcmel in their investigation.”
Trey pulled out his cell phone. “First things first. We’ve got to get a CSI unit in here, pronto.” He turned to Darc. “You got that intern’s number in your cell?”
“You mean Cody?” Mala asked. “I’ve got it.”
Bradley’s face grew white. “Cody Lyons?”
Trey turned to the assistant, his eyebrows raised. Surprise? Suspicion? “Yeah. How do you know Cody?”
“Oh,” Bradley said, in a tone that seemed to be strained for some reason. Perhaps a vocal obstruction? “He’s just… a friend of a friend. You know.”
“Right,” Trey said, stretching out the word. He then turned back to Mala. “Call him up, see how fast he can get out here. I’ll call dispatch for the ME.”
Darc was having an unusual reaction to the information that Mala had the intern’s phone number stored in her cell phone. The color of the strand of logic that had been created was not one with which he was familiar. It had streaks of red and a strange mauve coloring running through it, and its shape was irregular. The result of interference from this thread was strangely unsettling.
“Of what use is it to alert the intern?” Darc found himself saying. The other pathways of logic had no issue with the young man coming. He had done more than adequate work for them up to th
is point. There was also the assumption that if Trey was requesting Cody’s presence, it could be for a significant social or emotional reason that would be beyond Darc’s capabilities to discern.
And yet, he was fighting the decision.
“He’s familiar with the case,” Mala answered. “Plus, there is another angle that I’ll discuss with you at another time.” She gave Darc a look that was indecipherable to him. It was clearly intended to deliver some sort of message, but Darc had little idea what its significance might be.
Could she be telling him that she and Cody had some sort of relationship outside of work? The oddly colored thread twitched, disrupting the rest of Darc’s mental process.
Bradley, on the other hand, seemed to be avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. Perhaps he too suffered from an autism spectrum disorder. That was a topic on which Darc might wish to engage with the young man.
“I don’t care who comes at this point,” he said, staring at the symbol on the desk. “I just want to know what all of this means.” He waved around the office, indicating the symbols and pictures drawn and carved into the walls, ceiling and furniture.
“There are a lot of them,” Mala said, after giving Darc another look. This one was different, but no more discernable. She pointed up at the ceiling. “This is called the Egg of Life. It’s a grouping of seven intersecting circles.”
“There are five other symbols leading up to that one,” Darc clarified. “Here is the first.” He pointed out two circles that intersected one another. “It is called Vescia Picis. The center of each circle is bisected by the circumference of the other.”
“They’re depictions of the six days of creation,” Mala said, pointing to each in turn.
“What’s this one?” Trey asked, pointing to the opposite wall.
“It is a depiction of the rotating octahedron.” Darc moved closer to the figure to examine it.
“A symbol of God or the creator,” Mala murmured. She pointed out the features of the symbol to Trey. “It’s a circle that contains within it the Star of David. The Star’s then further divided by lines that bisect each of the six points of the star.”
“But what does it all mean?” whined Bradley.
“These are all symbols of sacred geometry,” answered Mala. “And these…” She pointed around the room. “… all have to do with the Freemasons.”
Once more, Bradley’s face whitened. This time, there was no way to tell if it was due to another vocal obstruction, as the assistant was not speaking.
The streams of light and color dancing about in Darc’s mind coalesced in agreement. Everything here pointed to the fraternity of men that some claimed went back to the secrets of architecture and geometry found in Solomon’s temple.
And someone in this day and age appeared to be uncovering those secrets.
* * *
Trey was just waiting.
There was a riot of symbols and whatnot in this office. Trey was pretty sure he’d never seen this many clues left in one place at one time.
Darc was known for dashing off after getting one or two of these suckers. There had to be like twenty in here. The fact that the bald detective was still standing here was a little shocking to him.
In the meantime, Trey decided to do some normal detective work. And by normal, he meant boring. Ask the standard questions that Darc never bothered with. They never seemed to matter, but you never knew when one of them might give Trey a leg up.
Okay, that wasn’t going to happen, but Trey didn’t like feeling useless, so…
“How did the kidnapper get in?” he asked Bradley, the overanxious assistant, as he walked out into the hallway. “I’m assuming you guys have been here the whole time?”
“I have no idea,” the young man answered. “We were here, but most of us were down the hall working on the big Halloween celebration coming up this weekend.”
Trey had heard about that. Apparently, there was going to be a huge Halloween bash happening right there in the middle of the Municipal Court, followed by a big parade. It was the first one they’d done in Seattle, and it seemed like there was some controversy around it.
The Mayor had put the thing together with the City Council to boost flagging business. Something about Detroit going bust had gotten a bee in their collective bonnets and they’d all decided to get proactive about things.
But the Evangelicals were all up in arms about it, calling it a hedonistic holiday at best, a demonic celebration at worst. That had gotten all the Wiccans and Satanists pissed off, as well as everyone else who just wanted to have a good time, and now everyone was at each other’s throats.
And it all came back to the Mayor.
If this thing went off without a hitch, he was the big hero that was helping to save Seattle’s economy. If it went south, he was the idiot who came up with the idea. Or the Antichrist, depending on whom you were talking to.
Trey thought it sounded like a good time, but who was he to have an opinion? No one really listened to Catholics much, lapsed or otherwise. Prejudiced bunch of jerks.
“So no one saw or heard anything?” Trey asked. That didn’t track. There had to have been some kind of noise made, with all the stuff that had been done to the office.
“No,” Bradley assured him. “Like I said, we were all working here in the conference room, making calls, running around… It was kind of chaotic.”
Trey looked around the hallway. “Any surveillance cameras around?”
The assistant shook his head. “Not here in the hallways. There might be some in the elevators or around the stairwells. I’m not sure.”
“I’ll check with the building,” Trey muttered, partially for his own benefit, so he wouldn’t forget. Partially because he wanted to sound like he was a contributing member of the team. No one on the outside could really understand how hard it was to make sure that Darc left the office with his pants on.
Seriously. One time Darc had come out of the bathroom with no pants. There had been a problem with one of the sink faucets, and he’d gotten his trousers thoroughly hosed down. Rather than wring them out, Darc had decided to just take them off.
But explaining that to anyone that didn’t know Darc just sounded like a lame excuse. Trey liked to save those for when he had to run someplace. Then he could start talking about his high school football injuries and stuff. Didn’t really matter that he’d never played. Little white lies. Nothing more.
He yanked his attention back to the obnoxious little assistant, who was looking at Trey like he was an alien or something. Or maybe he was still just reacting to what he’d seen back in the office. The guy was more skittish than a drop of water on a hot skillet.
Trey was just about to ask him if there was a number to get in touch with building security, when Cody Lyons, the CSI intern, strolled around the corner. He caught sight of Bradley Moore and waved.
“Hey, Brad!” he called out. “Missed you last week.”
“You guys know each other?” Trey asked the intern. Bradley was looking like he wished the earth would swallow him up. Did he hate Cody that much?
“Oh, yeah,” Cody gushed. “We’re both Entered Apprentices over at the lodge.”
Bradley was making some kind of hand motion to Cody, trying to get his attention. Trey turned to him, and the gestures stopped immediately.
“You’re Freemasons?” Trey asked, his brain whirling.
“Uh, yeah,” Cody answered. “Why?”
“Because whoever has been killing people all over Seattle and just finished kidnapping the Mayor is using an awful lot of Freemason symbols,” Trey shot back.
The young intern seemed to deflate. “Oh.”
“Oh is right. I’m guessing that’s why your fellow Mason over here wasn’t too interested in telling us that he was part of the brotherhood.”
Bradley shook his head. “No, no. That’s not it.” Trey leveled a look at him. It was one he’d copied from Maggie, and he was pretty proud of it. The assistant q
uailed. “Okay, yes. I mean, I saw all the symbols and stuff and I just panicked. It’s just way too freaky for me.”
“Yeah, well, it’s no walk in the park for me,” Trey muttered back. He was about to launch into another round of questions for the two budding Masons when his least favorite person on the planet walked in.
Carson Speer. Assistant Prosecuting Attorney.
“Hey, guys!” he smiled at the two young men in front of him. “There a lodge meeting I didn’t hear about?”
CHAPTER 18
Mala came out into the hall to Trey screaming at the top of his lungs.
“That’s it! You’re all under arrest!” He pulled two sets of handcuffs out of the back of his pants. “Darc! I need your cuffs out here!”
“Trey,” Mala called out to him. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he barked at her. “I’m arresting a conspiracy!”
At that point Darc had exited the office and was approaching the grouping of men in the hallway. He laid a hand on Trey’s shoulder, causing the smaller detective to whirl around, his arms flailing.
“Oh, Darc. Sorry, man. These guys are all Masons!” he hissed in disgust.
Well, that put a slightly different spin on Trey’s apparent descent into insanity. The fact that all three of these individuals was involved in a group whose identifying symbols were plastered all over Seattle made them persons of interest, at the very least.
“Handcuffing them is unnecessary,” Darc intoned, pulling Trey back away from the trio of men, all of whom were looking like deer in the headlights of a semi.
“But, Darc, didn’t you hear me? They’re Masons.” The last sentence was given in a loud stage whisper that would have been comical in some other situation. But right now, this grouping of men seemed like the best bet they had to get the Mayor back alive.
“I understand that,” Darc replied. “But Bradley was here with witnesses the entire evening. And Carson was at the hospital.”
“Yeah!” Yelled Trey. “Killing a witness!” He spun to the remaining member of the trio. “What about Cody? Where was he? Huh?”