by R. L. King
“What’s going on?” he demanded without greeting. “You found the thief, and he’s dead?”
“Yeah.” Blum sounded tired, like he’d been up all night. “Thought you’d want to know.”
“Of course I want to know. But how do you know he’s the thief? Those photos I gave you aren’t good enough for a definitive identification, are they? You don’t want me to come up there and try to identify him, do you?”
“I don’t think you need to. When they found him, he had one of the items from the collection in his backpack.”
Stone froze. Was it possible the guy had managed to get back inside the storeroom, or sneak into the truck when it was en route to San Francisco? “What item?”
“Hang on, I’ll send you a photo.”
His phone pinged, and a thumbnail photo popped up. He clicked it, expanding it to display a familiar form.
He let his breath out. “That’s…odd.”
“Why? That is something from the collection, right?”
“Yes. But…”
“But what?”
Stone examined the photo again. It showed the African statuette he’d seen the night he was inside the storeroom—one of the three items he’d identified as having magic. It had a ruler next to it and a tag with an evidence number. “Well…it’s not what I’d have expected him to have in his possession.”
“You mean because it’s not that pyramid thing you showed me the photo of.”
“Exactly.”
The line crackled. “Maybe he stole more than one thing. Either to cover up what he was really lookin’ for, or because he thought it might be valuable. Was that thing magical too?”
“To a minor extent, yes. They didn’t find anything else in his backpack? A book, perhaps, or a box of quills?”
“Nope, not according to this. Just that figurine. It was wrapped up all nice and safe in a cloth.”
Stone pondered. “And you said he got hit by a truck? Where?”
“In Pacifica.”
“Any witnesses?”
“Nope. Another driver spotted him lying in the road. The investigators figure it was a truck because of how high the bumper was, and the damage to the body. It’s not pretty.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. You know…are you certain the guy was looking for that pyramid thing? You don’t have anything other than your own speculation to make you think so, right?”
“I suppose I don’t.” Stone spoke reluctantly. Listening to Blum’s matter-of-fact words, it occurred to him the man was right: he didn’t have anything else. Discovering the pyramid and its strange properties had led him on a convoluted flight of fancy that might not have been anything but his own mind forming patterns where none existed.
Except…
“Wait!” he said. “Hang on. That’s not possible. I mean, it is possible he wasn’t looking for the pyramid, but something’s dodgy.”
“What?”
“You said this figurine was found in his backpack.”
“Yeah…”
“But when I talked to Greene—that’s my colleague who got hit over the head—he says he remembers waking up a bit and hearing the thief muttering something like ‘where is it?’ and ‘it’s got to be here.’”
“Yeah, and—?”
Stone gripped the steering wheel tighter. “When I was inside that storeroom, before the thief and Greene were in there, I saw that figurine. It was sitting on a table in the middle of the room. That’s where it was when I left.”
“I don’t—Oh. Wait. Yeah, I do. You’re sayin’ that if the thief was lookin’ for that figurine and it was right there in plain sight, how could he not see it when he was in there.”
“Exactly.” Stone’s heart rate increased. Something was going on here. “Greene is young, and this is his first job at the University. He wouldn’t dare move anything around, and he certainly wouldn’t have taken it. I doubt Dr. Inouye would have either. So if it wasn’t there when the thief arrived…”
“Then somebody else took it?”
“Yes, or someone planted it on our thief.”
“Wait—you’re sayin’ you think the thief was murdered?”
“Who knows, Detective? That’s for you lot to work out. I assume there’ll be an autopsy?”
“Already done, and preliminary results in. Injuries were consistent with getting hit by a truck.” Keys clicked. “I’m lookin’ at the report now. Assuming nothing wonky comes back from the tox screens, massive blunt-force trauma is probably our COD. Initial investigation says they didn’t find any skid marks in front of the body, which means whoever hit him didn’t brake.”
“That sounds like murder to me.”
“Maybe. But remember, it was dark, and the guy was wearing dark clothes. It could be hit and run, which is bad enough—the driver hit him, got spooked, and took off. That’s still bad, but it’s not the same thing as deliberately murdering him.”
“True. I suppose this could be a coincidence. Though I do wonder why the thief was carrying the figurine around several days after the theft, if that’s all it is.”
“Maybe he was planning to fence it somewhere. That happens too.”
“In Pacifica?”
“Okay, fair enough. Not exactly your hotbed of criminal activity. But one thing you learn in my line of work, Stone—you can’t expect things to make sense all the time. People are funny like that.”
“I won’t argue with that. Did the victim have any identification on him?”
“Nope. No wallet, nothing else in his pockets or the backpack.”
“Don’t you think that seems odd?”
“Yeah, I do. But then again, if he was tryin’ to fence that thing, maybe he didn’t want anybody to know who he is if he got caught.”
“I suppose…”
Blum sighed. “If you’re right about the guy lookin’ for that pyramid, though, this might be a problem.”
“Why is that?”
“I submitted those photos you took of the guy at the bar—said they came from one of my anonymous sources. They’re part of the case now. And from what I’ve seen of the autopsy photos, it’s pretty obvious it’s the same guy. Obviously they’re not gonna just believe one anonymous tipster, but I suspect this’ll take the heat off that case. As far as they’re concerned, they’ve found the guy who broke in, and they found what he took.”
“Bloody hell. So they’ll stop looking?”
“Probably they won’t stop, but trust me—I know Palo Alto doesn’t have the caseload we’ve got up here, but they still won’t prioritize a case that looks like it’s mostly solved. Unless they find anything else missing when they unpack that stuff in SF—” Blum paused. “But wait. They are gonna find something else missing, aren’t they?”
“Actually, no.”
“No?” He lowered his voice. “You put it back? Is that safe?”
“I put back…a reasonable facsimile. Nobody mundane will be able to tell the difference without a closer examination than I think they’re likely to do.”
Blum sighed loudly. “Stone, I don’t know what the hell to do with you. You’re gonna get my ass fired one of these days.”
“I’ll do my best to prevent that.” Stone started the car. “Thank you, Detective. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“No problem. I guess it does mean one good thing for you, doesn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“If the police back off on investigating the case, it’ll be easier for you to do your magic thing.”
“If there’s anything else that needs to be done. You could be right: I could have assumed the thief was after the pyramid when he wasn’t.”
“Here’s hoping. I gotta go, Stone. Talk to you later, okay?”
“Yes. I—oh, Blum?”
“Yeah?” He sounded distracted now, as if he’d already mentally moved on to the next item on his to-do list.
“Can you send me a copy of the autopsy report, and the photos, if possibl
e?”
“Why?”
“No particular reason, except I still think something dodgy might be going on here and I want to see if anything pops out at me.”
Blum hesitated. “I feel like I’m goin’ down a real slippery slope here, you know.”
“I know, and I do appreciate your help. I can make it worth your while, if it will help you feel a bit more comfortable with it.”
“Offerin’ me bribes now?”
“Of course not. Call it a…gift in recognition of our productive professional relationship.”
“Yeah. A bribe. And no, I don’t need one. I suppose the report’ll be public record in a few weeks anyway, so this is just jumpin’ the gun a bit. It won’t be complete yet, but most of the good stuff should be there.” He sighed again, loudly. “Listen to me twistin’ my brain into all kinds of knots to justify this.”
“Thank you again, Detective. This may end up being nothing. I hope it is.”
“But it won’t be. Because nothing you’ve got your fingers in ever ends up being nothing.”
By the time Stone arrived at the Encantada house, Blum had already emailed him the files he’d requested. He headed to his study accompanied by Raider and pulled up the email, which he noticed was sent from an anonymous throwaway account. The title was stuff.
It included two zipped files: one was screen shots of the two sides of the autopsy report, and the other was a series of photos. He glanced over the report itself first. It included what Blum had said it would: an initial cause of death of extensive blunt-force trauma to the chest and abdomen. There was also a post-mortem head injury. The medical examiner stated that the injuries were consistent with being hit by a vehicle with a high bumper and tossed away by the impact. Several parts of the report included only Pending or TBD, including the results of the toxicology report.
Stone was about to put the report aside when one of the fields caught his eye. Under Marks and Wounds, below the descriptions of the various wounds found on the body, the examiner had written:
Tattoos: Wolf’s head on left thigh. Small cross with letters M N P V on left chest.
That’s odd. Stone wasn’t exactly a religious scholar, but he didn’t recall ever seeing those letters in conjunction with a cross. He was about to call up a browser and search for them when the answer locked in.
A tiny chill ran up his spine and settled at the back of his neck.
It couldn’t be.
He was seeing things where they didn’t exist again.
With a shaking hand, pulled up and unzipped the photos, paging through each in turn. Blum was right, they weren’t pretty. The truck had done significant damage to the man’s body. Stone barely noticed, though, nor did he pay much attention to the thief’s face. Instead, he located the clearest shot of his chest and examined the tattoo there.
It was small—perhaps an inch and a half high on the cross’s long axis. The cross itself wasn’t elaborate, but merely the simple sort of thing any devout Christian might sport. It also didn’t have the crude appearance of a homemade or prison tattoo. This one had been done lovingly, by a professional.
What chilled Stone even further, though, were the letters. They were arranged with one at each of the corners where the cross’s two bars intersected. Each one was a capital: M, N, P, and V arranged in a square around the crossed beams.
He leaned back in his chair with a loud exhalation. “Bloody hell…that is not what I expected.”
MNPV.
Maleficos non patieris vivere.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.
18
It took a bit of effort to arrange a meeting between Jason, Amber, Verity, Eddie, and Ward, but all of them put aside their plans when he told them how important it was.
“What’s this about?” Verity asked. “Can’t you tell us now?”
“Better to get everyone together,” he told her. “That way I don’t have to tell the story multiple times.”
They met at the London house early that evening, and gathered around the big table in the dining room. “Okay,” Eddie said. “We’re all ’ere. What’s this bug you got in your knickers now, Stone?”
“Is Ian coming?” Verity asked. “Did you tell him?”
“No point in getting him involved in this,” Stone said. “He’s off in South America somewhere with Gabriel, and this doesn’t really concern him enough to pull him away from that.”
“So, what’s up?” Jason asked. “This have something to do with that guy Blum told you about? The one who got hit by a truck?”
“What’s this, now?” Eddie leaned in, his curiosity obviously piqued. “Who got ’it by a truck?”
Pacing around the table, Stone filled them all in on the latest information Blum had given him, stopping before he got to the part about the thief’s tattoo.
“So…somebody murdered him?” Verity asked. “And they found something from the collection in his backpack, but not the pyramid?”
“That’s weird,” Jason said. “Especially since you said the statuette was still there when you left.”
“Any chance the other two could have taken it?” Ward asked. “Your colleagues?”
“I can ask them if it comes to that, but I’d put a lot of money on no.” Stone paused his pacing and gripped the back of his chair. “They’re scholars. Curious, sure, but theoretically they’d have had all the time in the world to study anything that caught their interest. The heirs were willing to remove things from the auction if any of us decided we wanted a more in-depth look. So why risk their careers on getting caught nicking something?”
“Like you did,” Verity said.
“Yeah, well, ol’ Stone’s a special case,” Eddie said. “You lot should all know that by now.”
“Anyway,” Stone continued, “that’s our first question: who killed this man? We still don’t know his name, by the way. They didn’t find any identification on him.”
“That implies there’s a second question,” Ward said.
“Yes, and a much more interesting one. Blum sent me the preliminary autopsy report. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until I got to the bit about marks and wounds.” He’d snapped a close-up photo of the thief’s chest tattoo on his phone, which he pulled up now. He slid it across to the center of the table. “Take a look at that.”
All of them stood and leaned in for a better look. “It’s a cross,” Jason said. That’s not all that odd, is it? Maybe he’s religious.”
But Eddie and Ward had both tensed.
“You see it, don’t you?” Stone asked.
Eddie nodded wordlessly.
“What is it?” Amber asked. “What do those letters mean?”
“They’re almost certainly an abbreviation,” Ward said. “For a Latin phrase: Maleficos non patieris vivere.”
“Sorry…I’m a West Coast kid. I took Spanish in high school. What’s that mean?”
“It’s from the Bible,” Eddie said. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”
Jason and Verity exchanged horrified glances.
“Holy shit,” Verity said, turning back to Stone. “Are you saying—”
“I’m saying I think our thief might have been a member of Portas Justitiae.”
“Portas what, now?” Amber was the only one at the table who still appeared confused.
“Portas Justitiae,” Stone said. “It means ‘Gates of Justice’ or ‘Gates of Righteousness.’ They’re an organization dedicated to wiping mages off the Earth.”
She looked around at the others. “That sounds pretty bad. Why hasn’t anybody mentioned them before?”
“We’ve got no idea how big they are.” Stone resumed his pacing. “We dealt with them once a while back, before you and Jason were together, but haven’t heard anything from them since. I thought they were likely some sort of small lunatic-fringe outfit. They might still be.”
“But you said the guy was a mage. Why would a mage be in an organization like that?”
“Why would they want to do that?”
“Who knows? In the last case, the woman chose to toss her lot in with Portas because she felt ashamed of her magical abilities.”
“They likely look for mages raised in strict religious environments,” Ward said. “The sort of people who’ve been indoctrinated since childhood to believe magic is evil or of the Devil.”
“Exactly,” Stone said. “Some of those types are masters at rationalizing ideas and practices that further their ends, even though they ostensibly go against their core beliefs.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Amber nodded. “Okay, so why is this guy breaking into a collection of occult artifacts?”
“Easy,” Eddie said. “They’re anti-magic. They want nothin’ more than to see every mage on the planet—including their own, eventually—destroyed. Or neutralized,” he added meaningfully, with a significant look at Stone.
“Oh, bloody hell, yes.” Stone stopped again. “I saw the first part, but the second makes even more sense.”
“Huh?” Jason frowned. “I don’t get it.”
Stone spread his arms. “Portas Justitiae is a religious organization. We’ve seen before that they go to great lengths to avoid killing mundanes. Remember when they cornered you at that construction site and beat the stuffing out of you?”
“Shit…yeah. They easily could have killed me, but they didn’t. They even said they didn’t want to, when they were talkin’ to each other.”
“Spot on. They don’t want to kill mundanes. I’ll wager they’d prefer not to kill anyone, if they can help it. The only reason they kill mages is because they consider them both evil and irredeemable, as long as they possess the power they consider Satanic.”
“Wait, I get it now,” Verity spoke up excitedly. “So, you’re saying if this thing you’re looking for really can neutralize magic once the pieces are put back together, they might think they can use it to…I don’t know…de-magic mages and make them redeemable again?”
