Chương 188: 178. The crime

Q'Shar sat by the wide table, making himself comfortable on the cushion. In front of him stood refreshments, pushed to the side a few seconds earlier to announce the start of the official part of the discussion. Finally, once settled on the soft pillow, the cat looked up at the person sitting in front of him. It was an older man dressed in priestly clothing, a man the cat knew.

"So, Father Ethan. I'm having a bit of déjà vu. Our last meeting also started with refreshments. Will this one go the same way?" the cat asked.

"Well, Mr. Q'Shar, this time around your client isn't present to threaten the lives of my personnel…" the man answered with a smile.

"Well, there are none of your personnel here to try judging my client's power, so sure... Although your presence is surprising. I heard Leo's position is shaky right now, not to mention the Riswalts..." Ethan gave him a tight smile.

"I'm afraid you're confused. I'm a man of God and God's position only strengthens with the competence and power of our pope." The cat tilted his head lightly.

"Oh, really? I could have sworn you were very close with the same family that let the skinwalker into the church meetings."

"Your information must be outdated. The man was a Riswalt traitor and a murderer. We had nothing to do with him." The cat's smile widened further.

"Really?" he asked with a low purr.

"I wonder why you don't have any servants around. I don't even see an altar boy."

"Earthly conveniences are inconsequential to a servant of God."

"You didn't seem to mind them last time."

"Last time was mostly due to your client. He did seem to have... expensive tastes."

"That he does." The broker nodded.

"So what does the head priest, now downgraded to a messenger, have to pass on to Clan Alhazred?" Q'Shar finally asked. Ethan took a deep breath before speaking, slowly picking each word.

"The church would like to know... why?" he finally said after some hesitation.

"Why what?" Q'Shar asked, pretending to be confused. Ethan paused for a second, once again trying to pick the words properly.

"When the deal was struck, we were under the assumption that this would end up as a simple message to those who would not take us seriously or try to hurt our interests. Your client's work, I believe, went past a message and entered the territory of... a strongly worded letter." Q'Shar nodded his head lightly.

"Well, you should have made the request more precise."

"Yes, but let us not pretend we don't speak the same language. We expected a corpse, maybe magical wounds, even signs of torture. The theatrics were a surprise."

"To us both, I guarantee you."

"And did you perhaps receive an explanation to solve that mutual confusion?" Q'Shar smiled widely.

"That I did, yes. Olga!" he shouted for the old cat lady. The older woman entered the room carrying a phone. Unlocking it, she clicked the screen a couple of times, finally turning it over and pushing the device toward the priest. Ethan took it and looked at what was shown. In front of his eyes was a message from a contact titled 'Headache.' It read: "Not a war crime if we're not at war."

The priest stared at it for a few seconds, rereading the text, trying to find some meaning in it, before slowly raising his eyes to the cat, confusion clear on his face.

"So... is that it?"

"Yes."

"That's not much of an explanation."

"Yes." The cat once again agreed. He had to admit to himself that he didn't hate the priest that much. He was just a man doing his job. But there was something strangely freeing in letting someone else deal with Sam's bullshit for once.

"Could you get any more explanation?"

"That might be hard, but we will try to give you a proper one. It's just that sometimes my client's ways are... mysterious." The priest twitched at that, but kept his composure, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"I understand. Saddening as that is, I would like you to write a proper letter to the Vatican explaining your client's actions, as the unnecessary cruelty of it might end up driving a wedge between the arcane and mortal worlds."

"We would not want that, I assure you." The cat smiled his business smile.

"We will stay in contact," he said, ending the meeting. The priest gave another tight smile and finally left Q'Shar's meeting room. Once he was out, the cat fell back onto the pillow. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"Will it really be all right?" Bakari asked, entering the room after seeing the priest out.

"Yes. The fact that they sent a priest who lost his pull and position means it's just theatrics. Clementus must have really gotten to know Sam, though. He assumed he would pull something extra. I'm just not sure what game the pope is playing. Is he trying to alienate the mortal part of the church or force them to pick a side?" The cat sat looking at the wall as thoughts and theories raced in his mind. Rey looked at the computer screen showing the footage from the traffic camera near one of the crime scenes.

Sadly, no man in a strange, branch-like mask showed up on the monitor. To make it worse, some of the places didn't even have any cameras nearby, so they ended up using those in the area, sometimes tens of them, to see everyone getting in and out of a given crime scene. The footage was way too long to review manually, so they had the FBI IT department run an algorithm to cross-reference the license plates between the crime scenes, but that didn't produce any results.

"We are missing something," Filip said, looking at another monitor displaying the man in the mask.

"I'm starting to think it's a whole well-resourced organization doing this. The man we're after is just the muscle."

"Maybe it's the guys from the ritual?" Josh suggested, looking at Lan. The woman gave him a stink eye.

"They were real," she grumbled.

"I'm not making it up. It was a whole ritual. They summoned a demon." Josh chuckled at her response.

"Is that supposed to keep it away?" he asked, pointing to a silver cross around her neck, a recent addition standing out against her usually messy clothing.

"It's consecrated silver, melted from a cross from Old St. Peter's Basilica, taken during the Sack of Rome in 1527," Lan recited, clearly defensive.

"Who told you that?" Filip asked, frowning as he turned to the woman.

"The old dude in an antique shop."

"Wait. How much did you pay for it?" Josh asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

"Five hundred dollars," Lan said in a half-whisper.

"Pffff." Josh began laughing.

"You got scammed out of five hundred dollars." Filip just sighed before commenting as he turned back to the screen, "If I spent five hundred dollars on trinkets every time I woke up not remembering the previous night, I'd bankrupt the FBI."

"I remember everything, just my camera didn't..."

"Because it didn't happen?" Josh suggested, trying to explain the phenomenon.

"What do you think, Rey? You like the cross?"

"Yeah. Better safe than sorry," the policeman answered, not an ounce of humor in his voice.

"Really?" Josh asked, surprised.

"You can read a place's past just by interacting with it. Are demons and magic so hard to believe?" Rey asked them, still deadly serious.

"I mean... it might be explained by some brain mutation or maybe... I don't know, but going from psychic stuff to summoning a full-fledged demon seems like two very different things," Josh said, slightly uncomfortable at the serious look in Rey's eyes.

"You'd be surprised at the mysteries this world holds. You yourself said in the visions that the veiled man can't be shot. Didn't you think that might be magic, or also a gift like yours?" They all fell silent at his words until Filip finally spoke up.

"Well... we didn't really check the angle much, but the only person I ever met doing something like that was Josh. In my whole career with the FBI, we never had a magical suspect, and magic or not, he should still be flesh and blood, right? Even if he's gifted in some way like our Josh."

"Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. And there are more and more strange cases each day. I heard the police are pulling out of certain neighborhoods due to a lack of personnel. Our case could be a symptom of something else," Rey continued.

"You think our suspect is using magic?" Josh asked skeptically.

"I think there are many possibilities we shouldn't disregard." Before they could keep exploring Rey's newfound faith in the paranormal, Filip's phone rang. The man took it out, and upon seeing the caller, a deep frown crossed his face.

"Hello?" he said, picking it up.

"Hi. I need you to come to a crime scene, and fast."

"Look, Jim, I'd really like to help, but I'm retired, and I have something—""I know. You asked the guys to give you a call if anything fitting your case shows up, and this is me giving you that call." Filip got up from the chair as the rest followed, hearing the conversation.

"The veiled man?"

"Yes, or no… I don't know. We have wounds that fit your case. I don't know. Look, the new guys are vomiting, two technicians have already contaminated the crime scene. I need someone experienced."

"Got it. Give me the address."

"Just go to Vaugler's main building in New York. I'll meet you there in nine hours."

"Got it," he said, and hung up. The rest didn't need any commands as they began picking up their things to move.

"That was a detective friend from the New York Police Department," Filip explained as they began moving.

"I asked a few old contacts to be on the lookout. We have to get to New York as soon as possible. If I got the call, then the FBI won't be far behind." They took their stuff and moved to the car as fast as possible. They booked tickets during the drive to the airport, and after a six-hour flight, they arrived in New York and took a cab immediately afterward. The whole process took eight hours, so, as they drove, Filip was hoping they hadn't begun cleaning the scene.

But as they arrived, the police cars were still there, though parked to the side with the lights off. They got out of the cab, helping Josh with the wheelchair.

"Jim," Filip greeted one of the policemen.

"Good to see you."

"I hope you didn't clean y—" Filip began, but Jim cut him off.

"We didn't touch the crime scene. The agencies are already squabbling over whose case it is. Vaugler wants it on the down low, so for now the whole building is out of commission. Gas leak," he said with a chuckle.

"Fuck me, corporations work fast." Filip shook his head.

"Can you get us in?"

"Yeah... Just. Look, get yourself ready."

"I've smelled worse, trust me."

"It's not that. The AC was set to max, the bodies are relatively fresh. It's... Just don't let it leak or the board of directors will eat us alive. No reporters. Got it?" Filip looked at Lan, who rolled her eyes and put down her notebook.

"Got it." After the short talk, Jim allowed them into the building. They took the elevator to the highest floor. The doors opened to a modern reception decorated in black, gray, and brown shades, with luxurious carpeting on the floor and some modern sculptures depicting geometric shapes. They were led behind the reception, walking down a corridor with meeting rooms to the side, all with glass windows showing the skyline of New York. Before they came to the end of the corridor, Jim stopped them.

"You need to prepare yourselves." They nodded in response.

"And look, Filip. I show you the crime scene, you catalog it as one of yours, and you take this fucking mess off my hands. Right?" Jim said.

"If it's one of ours, then yes."

"Good," Jim said, moving to the side. They walked out of the corridor only to stop dead in their tracks. Josh and Lan looked away, while Filip and Rey winced.

"What the fuck is this?" Filip whispered.