Faith Defiled (Gray Spear Society Book 14)

by Siegel, Alex

  "Yes?" he said.

  "Alexander Reinagle?" Ipo said.

  "That's me."

  "We're looking for a book. Symbology of the Divine. Jorge Alba told us you bought it from him."

  "Correct," Reinagle said, "but that purchase was for a private client, and I already delivered the book. It's not here."

  "Who is the client?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say."

  Ipo pushed him aside and entered the apartment. Yang followed, feeling a little embarrassed about Ipo's bad behavior.

  Yang looked around. There was another man in the apartment, and he was just wearing boxer shorts. His body had been waxed from head to toe, and even his scalp was clean. He stood up with an alarmed expression.

  The apartment was furnished in a very modern style. Everything was made out of gleaming plastic or metal, and the contorted shapes were unconventional. Yang wasn't even sure how to sit on some of the chairs. A bookcase was packed full of books which appeared very old, and most of the titles were in foreign languages.

  "Get out of here before I call the police!" Reinagle said in a hysterical tone.

  Yang closed the door.

  "We need that book," Ipo said, "and we'll pay whatever price is necessary."

  "You and ten thousand other collectors," Reinagle said. "Symbology of the Divine is suddenly the hottest property since Da Vinci's Codex. I made a hundred grand tonight, but I could've asked for triple that. You may have to go to seven figures if you want a copy."

  "Just tell me who to pay, and let me worry about the cost."

  "How do I know you won't mug my client and steal the book?"

  Ipo narrowed his eyes. "What if I pay you a finder's fee to prove my sincerity?"

  Ipo's approach surprised Yang a little. Members of the Society often pretended to be police or FBI agents to garner cooperation. Enemies were tortured until they complied. Buying information struck Yang as somehow lazy.

  "My integrity doesn't come cheap," Reinagle said. "My clients expect me to protect them."

  "This one will be glad he met us," Ipo said. "Will fifty grand buy his name?"

  "Two hundred."

  "That's a lot."

  "A sleazy deal like this could damage my reputation," Reinagle said, "and reputation is everything in my business."

  "One fifty."

  "Fine, but I'm coming with you, and I'll do the talking. I won't let you screw this up."

  Ipo shrugged. "As you wish." He took out his gray phone and made a call. "Put one hundred fifty thousand dollars into the checking account of Alexander Reinagle. He's a book broker who lives in San Bruno." After a moment, he said, "Thanks. Bye."

  "What just happened?" Reinagle said.

  "You got paid. Check your bank account."

  He went to a computer in the corner and logged into his bank. His eyes widened.

  "Satisfied?" Ipo said.

  Reinagle nodded. "Theodore Kern has the book."

  "Get dressed. We're going now."

  * * *

  Corrie was shuffling through the San Francisco International Airport. Exhaustion made each footstep heavy. After being away from home for weeks, she wanted nothing more than to sleep in her own bed. She had seen incomprehensible horrors during her travels, and she wished she could wipe some of the memories away. A sleeping pill and at least ten hours in bed was the closest she could come.

  She arrived at the luggage carousel. She realized she might not recognize her own luggage. The commander of Houston had sent her home under chaotic conditions. She had grabbed a suitcase out of a closet without looking closely at it.

  Marina walked up to her. Even in her state of exhaustion, Corrie felt a touch of fear. The commander of San Francisco qualified as an incomprehensible horror of sorts. Corrie had seen the aftermath of what Marina had done single-handedly onboard the Fearless Star. There were bad things in the world, there were scary things, and then there was Marina.

  She was wearing a green shirt which was the same color as her eyes. Blue slacks also looked nice without being too formal. The fiery color of her hair was always striking. She was a naturally beautiful woman, and Corrie couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Corrie thought of herself as a short, fat slug.

  "Welcome home," Marina said.

  "You came to give me a ride, ma'am?" Corrie said.

  "To headquarters. We have some crystals that need to be tested."

  Corrie sagged. "But..."

  "You can sleep when you're done. This can't wait. It shouldn't take you long to run a few tests. I'm sure you've had a lot of practice lately." Marina furrowed her brow. "It's been hard, hasn't it?"

  "Horrible, but at least I got to meet a lot of very interesting people. There is a woman in Mexico City who can bend..."

  "Shh. Not here. Tell your adventures to everybody tomorrow, but be careful. Don't give away information that might put another team at risk."

  "I understand, ma'am," Corrie said. "No names or addresses."

  She recognized her bag, but she checked the tag to make sure. Marina volunteered to pull the bag for her. The small kindness surprised Corrie.

  "Let's go home," Marina said. "It's good to have you back."

  * * *

  Yang looked at the home of Theodore Kern. It was in a nice part of Sausalito and right on the Bay. Yang expected the house came with a private dock. Brown wooden shingles covered the walls, and redwood planks framed the windows. A hill forced visitors to drive down a narrow, steep driveway to reach the front door. The night was still and very quiet.

  "Where did this guy get his money?" Ipo said.

  "He buys and sells water rights all over California," Reinagle said.

  "A contentious business."

  "He doesn't have a lot of friends. He prefers books."

  Reinagle knocked vigorously on the front door. Ipo and Yang stood behind him.

  Yang expected Kern to be asleep or at least getting ready for bed, but the man who opened the door was still fully clothed in a dress shirt and slacks. He was in his sixties, and the top of his head was bald, but his skin was still a healthy pink. He was short and round.

  "Mr. Kern," Reinagle said, "sorry to bother you at this obscene hour, but these men have an urgent business proposition for you."

  Kern narrowed his eyes. "What proposition?"

  Ipo stepped forward. "I want to buy your copy of Symbology of the Divine. I'll pay whatever it costs."

  Kern looked up at the legionnaire. They were so different in size, it was almost a joke.

  "It's not for sale."

  "Everything is for sale," Ipo said. "The only question is the price."

  "Not in this case."

  "It's just a book."

  Kern shook his head. "No. Brian Kelly might be a modern day prophet. His book could be added to the Bible someday, and I have a rare, first-edition copy. It's priceless."

  "I think you're jumping to conclusions." Ipo furrowed his brow.

  "Why do you want it so badly?"

  "My motives are my business. I will only say I can't walk away empty-handed."

  "Then you'll be standing here a long time," Kern said. "Good night. Reinagle, we'll discuss this unpleasantness tomorrow."

  He tried to slam the door, but Ipo blocked it with his hand.

  "I don't think you understand how serious I am," Ipo said.

  "Is that a threat?" Kern said. "Are you going to rob me?"

  "I would rather not, but I'm under orders, and the person who gave those orders doesn't tolerate failure."

  The two men stared at each other. Yang knew Ipo was telling the truth. The legionnaire wouldn't leave without the book, even if that meant resorting to violence.

  "I have an idea," Yang said. "Maybe we don't need the actual book. A copy might be good enough for our purposes. We can take pictures of every page with a phone."

  Kern and Ipo turned to him with expressions of surprise.

  "A copy?" Kern said in a tone of derision.

  "I'll cal
l the boss," Ipo said. He took out his phone and stepped away.

  "Who are you people?" Kern said.

  Yang shrugged. "I'm not allowed to say. Our money is good though. You really should make a deal with us."

  "That's not going to happen."

  Ipo returned a moment later. "The boss told me pictures are acceptable, provided we get a clear shot of every page. Also, we must physically examine the book."

  "I'm not comfortable with you touching it," Kern said.

  "It's a reasonable compromise, certainly better than the alternative. How much will it cost to rent the book for a half-hour or so?"

  Kern had a sour expression. "A hundred grand."

  "Seems a little pricy," Ipo said, "but fine. It's too late at night to quibble over details."

  "I assume you're going to write a check. How do I know it's good?"

  Ipo snorted. He walked away and made another call. Yang assumed Ipo was calling Jia, and Yang felt bad for her. She had to stay up as late as everybody else.

  Ipo returned. "It's done. Check your checking account."

  "Huh?" Kern stared at him. "You made a deposit into my personal account without my authorization?"

  "Exactly. Let's go inside."

  They entered the house. The walls were painted royal blue, and the floor was made of redwood. There was a lot of empty space with not much furniture to fill it. Most of the lights were off, and Yang didn't hear anybody else.

  "Are you alone?" Yang said.

  "Yes," Kern said. "So?"

  "It's a very big house for one guy."

  "It's an investment property. I live here for the tax credit. Stop butting into my personal life."

  Kern led the group through the house. Their footsteps echoed down the long hallways. Its emptiness saddened Yang who felt such a beautiful home needed a big family to fill it. He was glad he had Jia and Olivia as his own family of sorts.

  They arrived in the one room that seemed fully utilized. It was Kern's study. A huge wooden desk had to be an antique, but it was in pristine condition. The chairs were richly upholstered with velvet. A chandelier had bulbs made to look like gas lamps.

  Three entire walls were dedicated to books. They filled all the shelves, and Yang could tell they were old. He leaned in for a closer look at the leather bindings and discovered Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Yang guessed it was an original edition.

  "You like books?" Kern said.

  "Sure, but I don't have much time to read," Yang said.

  "You're missing out on one of life's great pleasures."

  Kern went to a computer on his desk.

  After typing for a minute, he said, "The money is there. I don't believe it."

  "Of course," Ipo said. "Where is the book?"

  Kern pointed to a book on his desk. "Be careful. Touch it gently."

  Ipo and Yang walked over. Symbology of the Divine looked like a cheap, paperback novel. The cover had a cartoonish picture of a man staring up at symbols in the sky. The geometric squares and circles looked a lot like the writing on the walls.

  Ipo picked up the book and examined the pages. He frowned after a moment, obviously disappointed.

  Yang took a turn with the book. The paper was rough and slightly yellow. He tried to read it but was quickly put off. The text looked like religious gibberish with a little algebra thrown in for variety.

  He picked a random paragraph and read out loud, "'William Branham at the early ages of three and seven had an angel appear to him. In a cave in 1946, this angel gave him the power to discern thoughts and illnesses through the use of numbers. In his services, he would wait for the angel's presence before he could start. He called to the angels by reciting all the conjugations of seven, twelve, and ninety-nine, the numeric Holy Trinity. Branham was led away from orthodoxy when he realized Eve had sexual relations with the serpent...'" He looked up. "This is what we paid so much money to see?"

  "I'm afraid so," Ipo said. "Let's start taking pictures."

  Yang held the book down while Ipo photographed each page using his phone. They positioned a desk lamp so there was plenty of light.

  Much of the text appeared to describe a kind of dictionary and grammar. There were elaborate, convoluted instructions for how to decode the symbols. Yang hoped he wouldn't be the one who had to make sense of them.

  He looked over at Reinagle. The broker was browsing the book collection systematically. He had a notepad in his hand and was jotting down notes.

  "Mr. Kern," he said, "I didn't know you had Die Traumdeutung."

  "I'm quite proud of it," Kern said. "It's too bad I don't read German."

  "I might have a buyer who will pay above market price."

  "I'm interested. We'll talk tomorrow."

  As promised, Ipo and Yang needed about a half-hour to photograph all of Symbology. The electronic form was actually more convenient than the physical book. The entire team could examine it without needing to share the one copy.

  Ipo nodded. "Thank you, gentleman. You've done the world a great service tonight. We'll see ourselves out." He began to leave the office.

  "Wait!" Kern said. "You've seen the book. What's your opinion?"

  "I don't think it's worth the cheap paper it's printed on."

  "But what about the angels? The writing on the walls? It can't be a coincidence."

  Ipo narrowed his eyes. "That is the million-dollar mystery. Good night."

  He and Yang left.

  Chapter Five

  Hanley and Katie arrived at the Peninsula Buddhist Center in South San Francisco. It wasn't the majestic temple he had hoped for. It looked like an ordinary, three-story apartment building wedged in among others. The only notable detail was the doors were big and red. There was a small sign above the door, but otherwise, it was unclear who lived there.

  Hanley opened the door and went inside. The front room had a desk for a receptionist, but nobody was sitting on the chair at the moment. There was also a couch that looked very comfortable. Statuettes of Buddhist gods stood on a side table, and burning incense scented the air.

  "Hello?" he called out. "Anybody home?"

  A woman wearing loose-fitting blue pants over tights came out. Her black hair was very long. "Yes? Can I help you?"

  "We're looking for this man." Hanley took out a printed picture of Brian Kelly and showed it to her. "There is a good chance he spent time here a couple of years ago."

  "Are you with the police?"

  "FBI, actually."

  "Oh." She pursed her lips and studied the picture. "I don't recognize him, but I'll get the master. Maybe he can help you."

  She left. A few minutes later, she returned with a Chinese man. The newcomer was at least seventy years-old, and he had a long, gray beard. Some of the hair on his head was still black though, and Hanley wondered if it were dyed. The "master" was wearing black robes.

  "You're looking for somebody?" he said.

  Hanley showed him the picture. "Brian Kelly."

  The master took the picture and studied it. "Yes. I remember. He tried to be a monk here. He slept in the temple for several months."

  "He's gone now?"

  "Yes. He was a very troubled man. Always going on about angels and secrets. Inner peace eluded him. He was bothering the other worshipers so much, we had to ask him to leave."

  "That sounds like our guy," Hanley said. "Do you have any idea where he went?"

  The master shook his head. "There was a loud argument, and he walked out. It's a terrible shame. If he had truly understood the teachings of Buddha, he would've been much happier."

  Hanley frowned. "I don't suppose he left any of his stuff behind."

  "No."

  "OK. Well, thank you for your time."

  He and Katie left the temple. It was a cool, sunny morning outside. An unusual breeze from the west blew dry air. The narrow street wasn't busy at this hour of the day.

  Hanley called Marina. Katie leaned in so she could overhear.

  "Yes?" the com
mander said.

  "The Buddhist temple was a bust, ma'am," Hanley said.

  "That's annoying. I hope the hackers can find Kelly some other way. And I have other disappointing news. Corrie tested those crystals you found last night."

  "She's home?"

  "Yes," Marina said, "finally. The tests were negative. There was no evidence of exposure to supernatural radiation. I've also been trying to read the book, and it's frustrating. This guy can't get through a paragraph without jumping between three different topics. I think I need to be on drugs to make sense of it. I'll keep slogging away though. Something important must be buried in the mess."

  "What do you want us to do?"

  "Come back to headquarters. You can read police reports."

  "Yes, ma'am," Hanley said. "We'll be there in a little while."

  * * *

  Marina scowled at the computer screen on her desk. She decided to read some of the text out loud to see if it helped.

  "'Number mystics feel the properties of numbers by non-rational means. In my opinion, this approach reeks of the apostate. Simple, provable equations give us all the answers we need. Who cannot see the divine in 32 + 42 = 52? Even mundane things like the stock market are governed by the all-powerful Fibonacci sequence. More specifically, consider Don, the twentieth symbol. We have twenty fingers and toes, don't we? One has no choice but to see the relationship between Don and humankind...'"

  Marina sighed and sat back. I give up, she thought.

  She needed help from an expert, and she knew of two people whose qualifications were unassailable. She used her computer to send the pictures of Symbology of the Divine to Aaron. Then she called him on her phone.

  "Marina?" he said. "What's up?"

  Just hearing his voice made her feel good. She missed him terribly.

  "I have a problem, and Bethany and Leanna might be able to help me. I just sent you a file. I'd like them to look at it."

  "They're busy," Aaron said.

  "It will only take a few minutes. The file contains a book which purports to explain the true language of the angels. I know the twins talk to God every day. They may be the only people in the world who can come close to conversing with Him in His native tongue."

  "That's true."

  "They'll know right away if this book has anything useful in it," Marina said.