Vanishing Point: A Warner & Lopez prequel novel

by Dean Crawford

  Ethan could recall at least a dozen missing persons cases that fit the mold of desperate, young and hunted people who had disappeared over the past couple of years. Course, there was nothing unusual about that – the hunted normally didn’t much want to be caught. But if only a few were related to the cult in some way, then Ethan and Nicola would have been picking them up as they found them, unaware that if they picked up a few too many…

  ‘I don’t remember anything about perps with illnesses being miraculously cured,’ he replied finally. ‘But Nicola and I did pick up some runners last year who had once been addicts but were mysteriously clean when we found them. Meth is notoriously tough to beat, but they’d all done it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, other than it was nice to see kids kicking that crap out of their system, but if they were something to do with the cult and we were cleaning up in Chicago, then maybe they thought that sooner or later someone would talk to us?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Lindsay replied, ‘or maybe they figured that you were closer to knowing about them than you really were and they decided to nip you in the bud before you exposed them. What better way to discredit you than have you strung up for homicide?’

  Ethan thought about that for a moment, and of the way that Lindsay had described Austin’s mission in travelling north back into Chicago, perhaps against the rules of the supposed cult that he had been a member of.

  ‘Maybe he was looking for something,’ Ethan surmised. ‘You think that this cult you speak of would be willing to follow him that far, to track me down?’

  Lindsay nodded.

  ‘I know very little about them, nobody seems to, and that’s the thing. To keep people that quiet, you’ve either gotta have some kind of reach or some kind of threat behind it. Dwayne Austin wound up dead because of it, ain’t no other reason for things going down the way they did.’

  Ethan felt a new resolve begin to strengthen within him. The links were still tenuous, but he sensed a glimmer of hope in the distance, a faint light at the end of the tunnel, and he knew that he had only one course of action to take.

  Find the cult, find Ben, and get him to tell everything.

  ***

  XI

  ‘Say that again?’

  Lopez was standing before the coroner but not quite able to process what she had heard.

  ‘Austin,’ Angela Hicks repeated, ‘he wasn’t quite human any more. Have you ever heard of the term trans–human?’

  ‘No, what does it mean?’

  Hicks drew a breath.

  ‘It’s a movement, led by scientific radicals who believe that in order for humanity to survive we must shake off our biological selves and merge with machines. They see this as a natural progression of the human state.’

  Lopez stared at Hicks for a moment. ‘You mean like bionic limbs and stuff?’

  ‘That, and much more,’ Hicks replied, and appeared to shiver. ‘The problem is that as an industry it’s completely unregulated. There are armchair scientists out there right now implanting themselves with all kinds of computer chips, figuring that it’s going to grant them eternal life or greater strength or whatever it is they’re looking for. Some are saying it’s possible that in the next couple of decades we’ll see the emergence of the first real “super hero”, someone sufficiently enhanced as to become like something out of a Marvel comic.’

  Lopez blurted out a laugh. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously,’ Hicks replied with a stern gaze. ‘Dwayne Austin’s left eye was a bionic implant, and I’ve never seen anything like it. It was impossibly small, incredibly advanced and scar tissue around it suggested to me that it had been there for at least a year. I didn’t get the chance to remove and examine it in detail before the body was seized, but I can tell you that it wasn’t something Dwayne could have put in there himself.’

  ‘So, he’d become trans–human?’ Lopez said.

  ‘In a sense,’ Hicks agreed, ‘but there were other anomalies. His red blood cell count was off the chart, suggesting the use of a drug called erythropoietin, or EPO. It was developed to enhance the blood of anaemic patients but is also used by sports figures as an illegal performance enhancer.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘The autopsy X–ray revealed several metallic implants in Austin’s arms and body which suggested further enhancements, but again I didn’t have the chance to remove them before the autopsy was shut down. Whatever was going on with this guy, he was full of stuff that his record suggests he could neither understand nor afford.’

  Lopez rubbed her temples as she tried to figure out what that could have to do with Ethan being framed for Austin’s murder.

  ‘Okay, look, if there was some cult or something enhancing people, maybe against their will, where would they get this kind of technology from?’

  ‘That’s my point,’ Hicks whispered, ‘they can’t. This isn’t stuff you can buy off a shelf someplace and shove under your skin. This is high–grade stuff, the kind of thing you see in a science fiction movie. Wherever Dwayne got these enhancements from it wasn’t Walmart, you know what I mean?’

  Lopez nodded, and made for the door. ‘Thanks for your time, doc.’

  She walked out of the coronor’s office feeling more confused now than when she’d entered. After passing through the security checks she made her way outside onto the parking lot. She was half way to her Corvette when her cell rang. She spotted Honor’s name on the screen.

  ‘Lopez, you got anything?’

  ‘I got something, sending it to your cell now.’

  A few moments later Lopez’s cell pinged as a video was forwarded to her. Lopez accessed the file and hit the play button, shielding the screen from the bright sunshine as she watched the pixelated image.

  It was shot in black and white, but Lopez was able to see clearly Ethan in his seat, Dwayne Austin in his on the opposite side of the bus, and several other passengers inside the bus. As she watched the vehicle travelling, so she saw a man pull a phone from his pocket, dial a number and begin speaking. Although the footage was not particularly high resolution, it was almost enough to identify the face.

  Then, Honor went one better.

  The video cut to a scene minutes later, this time from a camera at the front of the bus. She saw Dwayne Austin leap from the vehicle and out of shot, then sprint back up the freeway as Ethan leaped out in pursuit. Other passengers on the bus were twisting in their seats to see what happened, and she saw the bus driver get out just as she glimpsed herself get up off the asphalt and go after Ethan.

  Then, from the rear of the bus, the man who had made the call stood up and walked without hurrying down to the front of the bus. The video showed him exiting the vehicle and turning left before he vanished from sight. Although he was wearing a baseball cap to partially shield his face, there was enough clarity in the shot to identify him.

  The cell rang in her hand, Honor’s name appearing on the screen.

  ‘Great catch,’ Lopez said as she answered.

  ‘The time stamp matches the call to Kankakee PD,’ Honor replied. ‘That’s your caller and he fled the scene before the police showed up. I called Greyhound and got a copy of the manifest, and it shows one passenger who paid cash and used a forged driver’s license to get his ticket. That’s the same passenger who flees the bus, as the driver said he never got off at his stop later that night and wasn’t seen again.’

  ‘Great,’ Lopez said, finally seeing a way out. ‘That proves that he made the call before anything happened, was travelling under false pretences and fled the scene. It’s enough to cast doubt on Ethan’s arrest.’

  ‘But not enough to get him out of the jail,’ Honor warned. ‘It only proves that somebody called the police from the bus. Any prosecutor would argue that they were merely doing their civic duty and for reasons unknown did not want to get involved. They’ll suggest any number of reasons for him running from the scene: fear of being involved in violence or fear of being identified for reasons other than f
elonies. It won’t hold up.’

  ‘It’s more than we had before,’ Lopez said, not letting Honor’s pessimism drag her down. ‘Can we identify the caller?’

  ‘I’ve called PD here in Kankakee but I don’t think they’ll have the resources and the man in the video is unlikely to be local. He’s in the wind for now.’

  Lopez had a sense that she knew where the man might have gone.

  ‘If this really was a set–up arranged by some kind of cult down in Cairo then I’d wager a hundred bucks he ran right back there. If I can locate him and get him to talk to us it might be enough to expose whatever this cult is up to.’

  ‘It makes sense but it’s a long shot. I’ll see what I can do from here to get Ethan out of his cell. Judge Ellis might be willing to grant bail given the evidence we have so far and the doubts over his arrest.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lopez said as she turned back toward the jail. ‘See if you can get the bank details of this mystery company down in Cairo from Chicago Respite Incorporated. It might need a sub poeana but if we can trace the payment for Austin’s bail to them it’s another link in the chain. I’m gonna tell Ethan what we know and see how it plays out down in Cairo. Hell, I may as well post bail myself, I need him out so we can run this thing down.’

  Lopez rang off and was back inside the jail within a few minutes. A few minutes later, she was staring a duty sergeant in the face.

  ‘He’s what?’

  ‘He’s out,’ the sergeant replied. ‘Bail was posted this morning, you only missed him by an hour or two.’

  ‘Who posted the bail?’

  ‘Lindsay Hicks,’ came the reply. ‘Five thousand dollars. Bail conditions state that Mister Warner cannot….’

  ‘Leave the county and must check in every twenty–four hours,’ Lopez snapped. ‘I know the drill.’

  Lopez whirled away and headed for the exit, her cell phone in her hand. She dialled Ethan’s number but got nothing other than a message informing her that his cell phone had been switched off. With a flourish of curses, she stormed out of the jail toward her Corvette.

  The sun was setting and she knew it would be pointless heading down to Cairo now, following Ethan’s trail but without hard evidence to back up her case. She knew that she needed assistance, someone here who would be able to keep an eye on the investigation on the bridge before she could head south in pursuit of Ethan.

  ***

  XII

  Cairo, Illinois

  There was something distinctly odd about Cairo that Ethan detected the moment they drove into the town. The sun was setting to the west, streamers of tattered cloud sweeping in gray bands across a molten metal sky as they drove through the town’s levee underpass, then over a rail–road crossing from the Ohio River and the Kentucky state line.

  The town appeared to be deserted as Lindsay drove slowly down main street. Buildings were shuttered up or crumbling away, long–abandoned homes lining side streets. Parking lots were empty with foliage pushing up through cracks in the old asphalt.

  ‘Ghost town,’ he said as they drove along.

  The Alexander County Court House, Post Office and Fire Department seemed to be in order, but around them there was a bleak air of neglect, of a town long forgotten by history.

  ‘Cairo died with the river trade on the Mississippi and Ohio,’ Lindsay explained. ‘There’s not much else down here now, exceptin’ farming. Most all folks are poor, it’s a real shame.’

  Ethan could see once–grand Colonial style houses consumed by foliage, their shutterboard white walls stained with the filth of ages. Cracked and crumbling sidewalks lined weary roads that often seemed to vanish into woodland now encroaching on empty lots where entire buildings had been pulled down.

  ‘Why the hell would a cult set up shop in a place like this?’ Lindsay asked out loud.

  Ethan glanced around them and he knew the answer right away.

  ‘Plenty of recruits,’ he replied. ‘Lots of folks abandoned and penniless, with nothing much to look forward to. A cult gives them something to belong to, somewhere to share their hardship and build something new. They’ll be drawn to it like moths to a candle.’

  Lindsay nodded.

  ‘Only two thousand folks live here,’ she said, ‘according to the last census. The town’s slowly going extinct. Local authority’s tryin’ to keep things alive but there’s not much they can do to stem the flow, ‘specially the young kids who can’t wait to head south into Missouri or north to Chicago.’

  The setting sun threw long shadows across the street. Ethan knew that he wouldn’t have long here to figure out what the hell was going on. Not showing up at noon tomorrow at the Kankakee Court House would pretty much bring most of Illinois’ police force down on him and would only serve to further convince them of his guilt.

  ‘What’s that?’ Lindsay asked, and pointed up into the evening sky.

  Ethan peered through the grubby windshield to where the sky was darkening to the south west, and immediately he saw a brilliant orb of light hovering stationary over a nearby forest. Ethan rubbed the glass to clean off some of the grime, trying to see what the object was.

  ‘Pull over,’ he said.

  Lindsay pulled the truck into the roadside and they climbed out.

  Ethan could see that the orb of light was orange and yellow in colour, vivid and brighter than anything he’d ever seen before, like an arc lamp hovering in the sky. There was no sound, and he noticed that he could hear no animals or birds, the air unnaturally still as they watched the light in the sky.

  ‘Damndest thing,’ Lindsay said as she watched it.

  ‘What’s out there?’ Ethan asked, rows of nearby trees obscuring his view beyond the rough ground.

  ‘Nothing,’ Lindsay said, ‘old Fort Defiance is off to our left, there’s nothin’ out that way but forests, the Mississippi River and Angelo Towhead.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘An unpopulated island out in the river, there’s nothing on it and no roads or bridges to the island. The Mississipi Channel has rapids that block navigation. Nobody goes out there. Beyond that it’s the Missouri border and nothin’ but fields ‘til Charlseton.’

  Ethan watched the ball of light hovering in the sky. It flickered with an incandescent glow, reminding Ethan of oil flowing through water, swirls and patterns, but the orb was alive with brilliant light like a miniature sun. As he watched, he noticed a small group of men in a nearby vacant lot. Their car must have pulled up about the same time as Lindsay’s truck and now they were spilling out of it with cameras in their hands, pointing animatedly.

  Ethan, one eye on the light, wandered across to them. He could see at once from their appearance and accents that they were out of Chicago. Each wore T–shirts with images of the X–Files or Star Wars upon them, college geeks of some kind, and Ethan wondered what they would be doing all the way down here in Cairo. One of them noticed his approach and concern creased his features. Ethan figured that three days of stubble and his crumpled clothes might make him look more threatening than he actually was.

  ‘You seein’ that?’ he asked conversationally as he slipped his hands into his jeans pockets and joined the four men.

  The Chicago accent, casual pose and easy–going voice calmed the nerves of the four men as one of them, a scrawny guy with a thin beard, nodded excitedly.

  ‘Looks like we came down here at the right time,’ he replied. ‘There’s been a flap going on here for weeks but we only just heard about it.’

  ‘Flap?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘UFO flap,’ another replied, ‘lots of sightings in southern Illinois right now, ‘specially around Cairo.’

  Ethan, intrigued, watched as the group began unfolding expensive looking cameras and tripods, rushing to get footage of the orb. One of them wore a black T–shirt emblazoned with the legend “MUFON” and an image of a classic disc–shaped craft on it.

  ‘You guys know anything about a cult out on the island, ‘bout where that thing’s ho
vering?’ The four men glanced at Ethan as they worked.

  ‘Not heard of anything like that,’ the bearded guy replied. ‘Just the lights. Did you know that last week the police chased on object right down the I57, dozens of witnesses, video footage, the whole nine yards. Dismissed by the Air Force as swamp gas. Can you believe that? Since when does swamp gas fly at two hundred knots and change direction at right angles?’

  Ethan said nothing as he watched the light once more. It remained perfectly stationary in now almost completely dark night sky.

  ‘Yeah,’ uttered another of the group in disgust, ‘no doubt this one they’ll write off as the planet Venus or maybe the glow from freakin’ Las Vegas.’

  The others laughed as they switched on their cameras and began recording. Ethan surreptitiously stole a glance at one of the camera’s fold–out screens, and saw the object fixed in its frame and zoomed in. He felt a supernatural shudder as he saw what looked like a ring of lights around the circumference of the brilliant orb, some sort of structure concealed within. He was about to mention it when he saw the orb suddenly shoot vertically up into the night sky without even a whisper of noise. He almost cricked his neck as he looked up to see it vanish into the heavens.

  ‘Whoa, you see that thing go?’

  ‘Damn, I didn’t get it fixed in the Infra–Red. You see it Greg?’

  ‘Nah, too slow.’

  Ethan noted that a moment later the air around them seemed to move again, and he heard the distant twitter of evening birdsong in the distant trees. In the distance he heard an engine start, and he watched as a white van with darkened windows slowly pulled away and drove off into the night.

  ‘That was weird,’ Lindsay said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ethan replied as he saw the van disappear and then turned to look at the spot in the sky where the orb had been. ‘We need to get out to that island.’

  ‘You’re going out there?’ the MUFON guy uttered in amazement.