“I’m already ahead of you.” Jenny handed the detective a printout of outside consultant employees. “I had Doug run this for me.” She smiled and stared at the detective over her reading glasses.
Duncan leaned in and gave Jenny a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a true gem Jenny… you should have been a detective.” He rose to leave, which took a few extra seconds and as he carefully squeezed between the desk and bookshelves.
“It’s always my pleasure detective.” Jenny’s smile brightened up the entire office long after Duncan had left.
* * * * *
It was almost time.
Angel wanted to be there to see all the glory of the fresh cleansing, no matter how long it took. He sat in the small room – waiting and watching. Every fire he had watched, never missing any of the intense heat, the overwhelming smoke, the blackened scorch, or the way that the flames danced to their own tune just for him. The ballet of the beautiful music eradicated the old and welcomed the new beginning with open arms. He loved the fire. The sin actually left the blaze, floated up high and dissipated. He witnessed the cleansing on many levels and yearned for more victims.
His mood, now chipper, and even a small smile crooked at the corners of his mouth. He tapped his mechanical pencil softly against the notebook, not feeling so alone anymore. The emptiness that usually plagued him every waking moment seemed to lessen in its grip on him. Something big was about to happen. Usually that would disturb Angel, the thought of something out of the ordinary, but not today.
A copy of an old paperback novel written by Martin Rover, missing the cover flap, earmarked on numerous pages, proved one of his most prize possessions. The book travelled everywhere with him. It too, had witnessed every fire. The story was about a young man who killed everyone in his family, including distant cousins, and anyone who knew or dated any of the family members.
He gazed at his laptop computer that was slightly askew on the small table, which never happened in any of his missions. Now he lived dangerously, even for just one day. The image on the screen was of the woman, the She-Warrior, small, powerful, and intense. It excited him. She knelt down examining something from the remnants of the fire. Angel felt in harmony. Even though he did not know her name, he knew it must be an important name – fit for a warrior.
Angel remembered the power he had received that special day from the high after the big fire. It filled him with a calmness and hope. He still celebrated that day on December 25th every year. It was better than any birthday or holiday; it was the day he freed himself from the filth and personal turmoil of society’s sins.
“We have another victim over here!” The firefighter yelled through his protective mask.
Angel overcome by smoke could not get out of the house before he collapsed, just before he reached the side door. As he lay there, he remembered hearing a loud repetitive crashing noise as the firefighters broke down the door, along with part of the wall in order to get to him.
The next thing he remembered was floating high above the fire; carried away on the flame’s shoulders as a true hero for everyone to see. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t open his eyes to witness the epic event. He could only enjoy how his body and spirit felt.
It had been so easy.
The solution materialized in a supernatural way.
The answer to his continuous question of how he could get out of his filthy, sinful situation, to start over again, presented itself cleverly. He remembered fondly as he carefully walked around his aunt’s bedroom early Christmas morning squeezing the lighter fluid. The toxic fumes tickled his nose. He moved faster and knew that once a fire started it would only take minutes to ignite the rest of the house.
The light of the match mesmerized Angel. He stared at it turning his hand slightly to get a better look, and felt a strong bond with the fire. It was a kinship. Something he had never experienced before. Everything about the mini inferno consumed him deep inside, the flame, the gentle flicker on the end of the match, and the deep range of color from yellow, red, to orange.
It was beautiful. It was the answer to his life. It was the cleansing of the bad to bring in the good.
He had tossed the match into his aunt’s bedroom.
It took seconds to engulf the room in a wonderfully systematic way. He ignored the terrified screams. The dance of the fire inspired him, which kept his full attention.
Standing and watching with attentive curiosity, he didn’t gauge the effects of the smoke and how aggressive the fire pushed through the piles of garbage, walls, curtains, furniture, newspapers, and old carpet. It was like pulling a string on a magical toy before flying off to another new world.
He played the fantastic sequence over in his mind as he lay on the gurney.
He forced open his eyes to an amazing new world. The oxygen mask placed over his nose and mouth made him feel like he was in a wonderful dream, a noble king, in a knight’s helmet watching over his kingdom.
The firefighters hurried to the blaze with high-powered hoses shooting tons of water, while the ambulance drivers fussed over him.
It proved he was worthy. He loved all of them. They changed his life forever. He could now go to a new home and begin again.
Angel did not realize that he could feel that happy again.
Until now…
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Tuesday 1030 Hours
“What were you thinking?” Rick raised his voice as he stood in a confrontational manner.
“I don’t know what the problem is? I’m following through with the investigation as usual.” Emily tried to keep her anger under control, steadying her voice, but lately she felt on the verge of losing everything.
“I thought we were working this investigation together?” His eyes cooled matching his demeanor.
“We are. Jordan and I checked out the P.I.’s house.” Emily moved to the kitchen followed closely by Rick.
“And?”
She took a cold bottle of mineral water from the refrigerator, twisting the cap off. “Nothing new, except I found some interesting brochures.”
“Brochures?” He snapped.
“Yes brochures.” Emily took a sip of the water.
“Where’s Jordan? He’s usually following you around like a puppy dog.” Sarge barked. “No offense big guy.”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I don’t know.” Emily hated the use of interrogation techniques for her own actions.
“Didn’t you guys go in his car?”
“Yes… but he took off.”
“Great… what’s his problem?”
“He sent me a text message after I got a cab and said that he would meet me later.” Emily felt trapped and wanted to get on a plane, to go anywhere else. Taking a few breaths, she said. “I don’t know what was up, but I don’t think we should worry unless we don’t hear back from him today.”
Rick calmed down. “Did he say anything?”
“Just his usual stuff… you know Jordan. Everything was fine. Then when I came out, the car was gone.”
Emily thought of the kiss in the old restaurant and thought better of telling Rick about it. Jordan seemed sad, but fine. She knew that he wouldn’t leave her stranded unless there was something important that needed his attention.
“I’m sorry Em, it’s just that things have gone a little sideways the past few weeks and I don’t have a good feeling about this arson investigation.”
Emily weakened. She knew that it was difficult for Rick to talk about his feelings. “I know, I’m sorry too.”
She hugged Rick tight and didn’t want to let go. It was difficult because she was burdened with too many emotions all vying for attention. She was apprehensive that any misstep in the investigation would cause the arson killer to claim another victim.
Rick looked at Emily. “I’m really sorry about everything.”
“I know…” It still pained Emily that he didn’t confide in her
especially with everything they had been through. She fought back the tears and concentrated on the next step.
“What do you want to do now?” Rick’s anger had disappeared and his typical resolve came into focus.
Emily moved back to the living room where she had left the brochures.
“What’s that?” Rick asked.
“The investigator’s house was just a work office for him and everything seemed typical. But, I found these brochures of exclusive resorts, security systems, and high-tech watches.”
“Someone he was trailing or a suspect background check?”
“I’m not sure, but all of these brochures are written with the same type of language. It’s like they were written by the same writer.”
She flipped open a laptop and keyed up the first website from the brochures.
“Looks like the same copyrighter.” Rick read the information over Emily’s shoulder.
“It may have nothing to do with the arson case at all, but…”
“What a perfect way for any criminal to remain anonymous. This is a dream job if they work as a copyrighter and submitted their work by computer.”
Emily frowned as she scrolled through the websites.
“What’s the matter?” Rick asked. “I know that look.” He managed a smile.
“It’s just that this particular killer or arsonist goes to great lengths to create these snares for his victims, and then burns them.” She glanced back at the white board. “He may be naive in some ways, but he wants some type of notoriety or something that separates him for the rest world…”
“Like serial killers that write letters to the police or leave their signature symbol at the grisly crime scene?” Rick perused through the brochures once again.
Emily moved the cursor over the security descriptions and inadvertently positioned the mouse on the item number. A strange symbol appeared and then disappeared. “Did you see that?” She slowly moved the computer cursor again and the “S” symbol appeared with a triangle.
“What is that? I’ve never seen that before.” Rick concentrated on the text.
“I don’t know, but it’s on most of the items identification numbers.” She quickly toggled through more item numbers. “There it is again! Is doesn’t stay long.” She grabbed a piece of paper and quickly sketched the image.
“It looks like an artist signature… coat of arms… some type of ancient text… It actually looks like a snake image…” Rick surmised.
Emily stood up straight to relieve some of the tension in her lower back. “But why would the private investigator for the prosecution, mainly doing background checks, have these brochures? He definitely wasn’t in the market for a high-tech security system or a ten thousand dollar a night luxury spa.”
“Something he found during a background check?” Rick contemplated. “Has Jordan checked out the employees, specifically the outside consultants for that security company?”
“He hasn’t sent anything yet.”
Rick scrolled through existing files on his cell phone.
Emily sat down at the kitchen table. She poured through arson photos again. She felt her heart sink. Nothing was coming together as it usually did. They were getting closer, but the how and why overwhelmed her.
“You need some sleep. Take an hour and just relax.” Rick seemed to sense her stress, partly caused by the pressure she put on herself.
“I can’t…”
“You need to refresh yourself, you’ll think clearer.”
“Wait.” Emily retrieved the piece of paper with the symbol.
“What are you thinking?”
“Isn’t there a symbol for fire? You know like an ancient symbol?”
Powering up his laptop, Rick typed in several search words and waited. “Here…” He pointed to the screen. “The Greek element sign is a triangle. See here…”
The screen showed all the elements and the signs that represent them, fire, water, air, and earth.
“Okay, that’s half our symbol. What about the snake or weird backwards “S”?”
Rick took a moment to search more specific symbols for fire. “Here. The triangle represents the alchemy symbol for fire, but there’s another one too.”
Emily read the description. “It represents the fire symbol that corresponds with southern directions in a practical ritual, the season of summer. This emblem also signifies connections made within the realm of transformation, with the point meeting in the center, where both are connected and affecting each opposite end.”
“I think we might have found our guy.”
Emily processed the profile in her mind and said. “He sees himself as an avenger of sorts? But what motivates him?”
“Experiences, traumas, brain damage?”
“There’s something driving him where he feels that there is no other choice.” She hesitated. “Is he destroying or helping victims in his mind?”
“We need that list from Jordan.”
Picking up her cell phone, Emily tried calling Jordan. It went directly to voice mail. She left a message. “Jordan, we need you. Call as soon as you get this.”
Rick grabbed the notes of the other possible victims from the table. “If we can’t find out who this guy is yet, then we’ll have to wait until he finds us.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Tuesday 1130 Hours
Jordan waited and helplessly watched. His nerves pushed his curiosity forward only out of sheer survival. He couldn’t keep his hands and fingers still as he resisted the urge to run like hell. He wasn’t sure if Red was a man of his word, or if he would kill him after he got what he wanted. The drive to the small airport made him uneasy, but Emily’s life and freedom were much more important than the arson case at the moment.
Red moved effortlessly in the hangar with the preciseness that had few flaws, if any. His solemn face, dead eyes, and a serious directness made him a force unto himself. He was a lethal weapon when called upon. Checking the Cessna, he went through the typical maintenance routine, while devising his scheme.
The impressive aerodynamics of the flying machine did not give the plane justice from a distance; but up close, it reeked of opulence. Jordan had only been this close to a private airplane once during his career in the F.B.I. It was an undercover mission, which involved three special agents posing as drug dealers. They had used a private plane as their mode of travel.
Flying wasn’t Jordan’s optimum choice of transportation, but Red gave him precise orders. He worried and stressed about the plan, but there was nothing else he could do to change what was already set in motion. He ran his hand along the side of the Cessna, sleek, perfectly proportioned, as it helped to steady his rattled nerves.
It made Jordan wonder how an assassin could live a lifetime fulfilling death contracts, and not feel any remorse for what he had done. It was living a hollow existence. Red seemed a different type of psychopath forced to believe that it was all in a day’s work. Jordan saw a flicker of light; perhaps hope in the man’s eyes as he told him about the best way to free Emily for good. There was something behind Red’s cold, calculating facade that provided hope and understanding.
Not knowing what else to say to Red, Jordan asked. “Do you need any help?”
“No.”
“I don’t know much about planes, but I could squeegee the windshield.” Jordan paced uncomfortably. He hated long silences when there were people around because it made him ramble on with extreme sarcasm.
Red stopped and looked directly at Jordan. He did not say a word. The stare was like the scope of a rifle.
“Hey, just trying to help.” Jordan shrugged and looked away.
The assassin slipped out of his leather jacket and shirt. He put on a compact parachute and redressed himself, this time with a heavier jacket that helped to camouflage the bulkiness of his attire.
Jordan opened his mouth to say something, but decided to keep his comments to himself instead.
Red walked up with purpose, J
ordan thought for a moment that the assassin was going to snap his neck or stick a shiv into his gut. Instead, he said. “It’s time.” Red gave Jordan a folded piece of paper. “You understand?”
Jordan unfolded the paper and read the instructions. “Yes.”
The hit man reached into the plane and pulled out a small duffle bag. “Everything you need is right here.” He looked at his watch. “You have forty minutes to get to the location.”
Jordan grabbed the bag. It was heavier than it looked. “Then I guess I better get my ass moving…”
He rushed out of the hangar.
* * * * *
It had taken him almost half an hour to pack the rations of food and water that he would need to sit out the time. However, time to Angel was relative. It was something that people worried about constantly, but he found it to be invigorating with the possibility of a hopeful new beginning.
With the information he had gathered from the county assessor’s office and the security company, the family would visit the home at least once a month, usually twice. Sometimes it was just the lawyer and other times it was the family, which included a few extra friends. It didn’t matter whether it was one person or a dozen casualties, the outcome would still be the same.
A perfect end with the ultimate cleansing.
Angel continued to make himself comfortable in the confined room, but his direct view was the master suite. As soon as the sinner arrived, he would be able to see his face. The stench of sin would be apparent.
He hoped one day that he was able to see the aura of sin on anyone he passed on the street. Imagining how it would waft around the body and exit out of the top of the head. It wouldn’t be beautiful, but sneaky, and ugly to gaze at the murky colors. It existed. It needed his help.
Sin must stop.
He unzipped the dark blue plastic lunch bag and retrieved perfectly sliced pieces of cheese. Angel only ate American cheese. Other cheeses were too soft and spongy, while others tasted of moldy garbage. He adored the orange color and the texture of the dairy product, which made it easy to cut in perfect two-inch squares.
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