He walked over to the metro station, grabbing the first train that came. It happened to be a blue line train, which served his purposes just fine. He needed to be on the blue line anyway, so he might as well climb on board now. He took a seat and read through the Express.
The train ran above ground, past Reagan/National Airport, then dived underground to go pass beneath Crystal City, Pentagon City and the Pentagon itself. It surfaced again to stop at Arlington National Cemetery, before diving back beneath Roslyn and the Potomac River. Twenty minutes later, Dashiell was finished with the Express and the train was just pulling into the Stadium/Armory stop. He exited the train, using the same door he entered through, and headed up the escalators.
Dashiell was always uncomfortable in Southeast D.C. It was a dangerous part of D.C., and the area around the stadium was one of the worst neighborhoods. But sometimes, the job didn’t give him a choice.
It was a short walk to his destination, the D.C. Medical Examiner’s Office.
He walked in the front door and stopped at the desk. He showed his ID and his detective license, and indicated that he was there to check on one of the bodies.
The kid behind the counter told him to head back to autopsy. “Detective’s already here.”
Dashiell figured it must have been in connection to another case, so he was surprised when he opened the door and saw Regina.
“Morning Regina. What are you doing here?”
She turned around from the autopsy table, a mask over the lower half of her face. “I could ask you the same thing, Dash. I’m here for the case I caught yesterday. You?”
“I came in to see if there was anything interesting on the zookeeper’s body. I hit a dead end yesterday.”
The medical examiner looked up from his autopsy of the young woman on the table. “Grab a mask Detective, I’ll be over to speak with you momentarily.” He pointed to a table on the other end of the autopsy room.
Dashiell grabbed a mask, putting it on. He seriously doubted there’d be anything useful to be found here. Then again, one of the iron laws of forensic science was that two objects couldn’t interact without leaving traces on each other. And if the murder was spur of the moment, then there was a good chance some evidence would be left that could point Dashiell in the right direction.
Chapter 12
Dashiell wandered over to the table where the Medical Examiner was working with Regina. He had to hold back a gag. What hadn’t been obvious from a distance, and what hadn’t been broadcast on the news, was that there were two bodies laid out on the steel table. And one of them was that of an infant.
“My God. What the hell happened?”
Regina turned to look at him, the sadness hovering around her eyes more apparent from up close. “Some sick bastard sliced up a pregnant hooker, that’s what happened.” Her voice was like cold iron.
“The baby…?” Dashiell left it hanging.
“No,” the Medical Examiner said. “It was born alive. And then deliberately strangled. There’s obvious hemorrhaging in the eyes. Coupled with the blue color, and bruising around the neck, there’s little doubt.”
“Dashiell, there’s a sick bastard loose out there. I won’t have time to work with you. I’ve got to find this son of a bitch and bring him down.”
As Regina spoke, the Medical Examiner continued his inspection of the baby, moving from the main body to the extremities. “Detective,” he said, drawing the attention of both Regina and Dashiell. “Found something else.” He used a small metal implement to gently uncurl one tiny lifeless hand. The baby’s fingers were missing. “Somebody mutilated the body. From the minimal blood loss, I’d guess post mortem.”
Regina grabbed the edge of the metal table and gripped it hard, her eyes going hard. Dashiell put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay Regina?”
She shook herself. “It’s just….You think you’ve seen everything on this job, Dash, and then something like this happens….” She took a deep breath, held it, then slowly let it out. “Someone’s gonna pay for this, Dash. I just hope when we catch up to him, the bastard resists.”
Dashiell nodded. It was a hard sentiment to argue with. Anyone who spent any time in law enforcement had a case like that, somewhere in their background. But as much as he felt for Regina right now, he had his own work to do.
The Medical Examiner finished his notes on the hooker and her baby, then put on a new set of gloves and headed to the other end of the room. Dashiell followed after him.
“So Mr. Aldridge, what can I do for you today?”
“Metro hired me to investigate the death of that tiger at the National Zoo. As you know, this zookeeper was killed at the same time. I’m hoping you can tell me about how he died and who may have killed him.”
The Medical Examiner flipped open the chart. Dashiell looked over the body, laying cold and naked on the steel table. There was a neat Y incision across the chest. Apparently, the autopsy had been completed the day before.
“Let’s see….says the cause of death was a blow to the back of the head, with a blunt instrument.”
Dashiell looked up at the Medical Examiner. “Blunt instrument? He wasn’t stabbed?”
“No, sir. No evidence of a knife wound of any kind. No defensive wounds or signs of a struggle either. Looks like he didn’t see it coming.”
Dashiell thought for a moment. The killer had a knife. Why not use it? Well, if it was sanctified in preparation for the tiger, that might explain it. Still, that was a lot of trouble, to find another weapon to kill the guard. There were few spells that required that level of purity in the ingedients. This changed things. If the killer went to that extent, then he wasn’t using these tiger parts for mere home remedies. He was angling for something a great deal more powerful. But what?
Chapter 13
Dashiell was lost in thought and so he missed something Regina said.
“No nothing here. I can call around to some of the other local Coroners and see if they’ve had anything come through,” the Medical Examiner said.
“Hmmm?” Dashiell looked up.
“I was just asking if the M.E. had seen any other bodies come through with missing body parts,” Regina replied. “This looks like the work of a serial killer. Which means this probably isn’t his only kill. And if he’s taking trophies, that’ll link his kills.”
Dashiell nodded. “Makes sense. I never worked on serials, so I don’t know much about them, honestly. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Dash. I’m gonna call around to other precincts, from Baltimore to Richmond, and see if anyone else has seen anything like this. And to warn them to keep an eye out. We may have been the site of his first kill, but wherever we are in the order, we’re probably not the last. Unless I have something to say about it.” She got that hard look in her eye again. “I’ll call you later. I’ve gotta get on this.” She headed out the door, leaving Dashiell standing alone next to the zookeeper. Apparently, the M.E. had headed out to make those calls he mentioned.
Dashiell picked up the folder of notes the M.E. had left behind. He scanned over it quickly, skipping past all the details on stomache contents, weight of liver and such, to the notes about the cause of death. Nothing too detailed. Just a blunt object. No traces left in the wound, so it was probably a solid object. It was rounded, leaving an inwardly curving dent on the back of the skull. Apparently, death hadn’t been instantaneous.
Dashiell skipped ahead. He didn’t need the details of the poor man’s death. He turned the page and got to the section about trace evidence. Apparently a couple of dark fibers, inconsistent with the zookeeper’s clothing, had been found and sent to the lab. They appeared to be black or dark blue, made of a poly-cotton blend. Dashiell didn’t have much hope that they’d lead anywhere, but it was something.
Dashiell looked up as the door opened and the Medical Examiner walked back in.
“Is Detective Robins still here?” he asked.
“No, Doc. She took off to canvas surrounding precin
cts. What’s up? You find something?”
“Not really. Only corpse with missing digits from the last couple weeks was from that wreck out by Dulles. Body’s in the Fairfax Medical Examiner’s office.”
“What was missing?”
“Thumb on the left hand and part of the index finger. But it was a car accident, not a murder. Probably just got torn off during impact. People tend to grip the wheel pretty tight when they see the wall or another car coming. Does bad things to the thumbs.”
Dashiell nodded. It sounded like another dead end.
But something in the back of his mind was stirring.
Chapter 14
It was nothing Dashiell could put his finger on, and he knew from long experience not to try and pin it down. It was more like his subconscious was sending him a message that something was coming down the pike, and to keep his eye out. After chewing on it for awhile, his mind would spit out the answer. For now, he’d just have to let it marinate.
“Just reading your report here Doc. I see you found some fibers?”
He nodded. “Yeah, a couple of dark threads. The zookeeper was wearing lighter colors, so they were inconsistent. Probably came from the killer. But they seemed pretty generic. Still, you can never tell. There may be something in the weave or the dye. Those guys at the lab can do amazing things these days.”
“That’s true. I guess I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” He then crossed his fingers.
The Medical Examiner looked a little askance at him, but shrugged. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Aldridge?”
Dashiell shook his head. “I can’t think of anything. If you end up identifying the object that was used to kill the zookeeper, give me a call?”
“Of course.”
Dashiell headed out of the autopsy room and signed out with the young man working the front desk, and he stepped out onto the streets of Southeast D.C. He reflected again upon the choice to place the Medical Examiner’s office here. It made for shorter trips for most of the bodies that the M.E. would have to deal with.
He headed up to the Metro and tried to decide on his next move.
He now knew that whatever the tiger had been intended for, it wasn’t any mere folk remedy. That would help narrow down his research. But at the same time, that was the problem. Almost all of the uses for tigers were traditional cures. In fact, nothing in his books at the office contained anything that would fit. In that case, his course seemed obvious.
He grabbed the Metro to Capital South and headed north, to the Library of Congress.
Chapter 15
Dashiell entered the building and showed his Library of Congress ID. He then headed back into the depths of the labyrinthine library. The place smelled of an odd mixture of old paper and furniture oil. He headed to the room that contained the B section of the call numbers. That’s where the books on magic and superstition were located. If he struck out there, he always had his government ID that would get him into the more restricted section, where the Bureau’s old texts were kept.
He studied the symbolism of the tiger and didn’t like what he found. In India, the god Shiva was known to wear a tiger skin when in his aspect as the destroyer. It was this aspect of Shiva that Oppenheimer invoked when he saw the first atomic bomb – I am become death, shatterer of worlds.
Could whoever he was looking for be trying to conjure up a God? That would explain the effort to keep the knife pure. That was the sort of power that would require purity in the harvesting of ingredients.
But summoning forth a god, while possible, was extremely difficult and even more dangerous. In fact, it was not something that could or should be tried alone. So perhaps he was looking for more than one culprit.
Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. Of course. He had seen marks of three candles on the ground at the zoo. He had assumed that they were three separate focus points to control male, female and tiger cubs. Apparently, he’d been only half right. Those candles had been used by three separate people.
This had its own comforts and fears. It was comforting to the extent that it meant that he wasn’t dealing with a truly powerful warlock or witch. That had been bothering him ever since the zoo.
On the other hand, if he was correct, it made this new theory that much more possible. Witchcraft was a funny thing. Witches and warlocks, working together, were capable of much greater feats than either one working alone, even if they were working on similar spells. When you started messing around with mystical numbers, it got even more powerful. There was a reason that Charmed had three main actresses. Circles of 3, 7 or 13 witches could bring about truly powerful magic.
That was why the Bureau always made sure it had 273 witches or warlocks available in D.C. at all times. When combined, this circle, made up of all three mystical numbers, could do anything. But it took the organizing force of a government to bring together that much magical ability.
If it were Dashiell, he wouldn’t even risk calling forth a god with less than 7, and he’d prefer 13. And even then, he’d stick to the more benign end of the pantheon. Calling up anything more serious, he’d want at least 21 or 39, a combination of two of the three numbers.
To do anything less would be insanity and risk loosing a destructive force on the plant that nothing could stop. Ever since the Administration closed down the Bureau, the agents had scattered to the four winds.
Dashiell had the sudden sinking feeling in his gut that he couldn’t afford to get this wrong. He had to stop whoever was doing this before they could complete their work.
But how?
Chapter 16
Dashiell shook himself out of his reverie. Dark thoughts lay down that path and he wasn’t sure he could afford to entertain them. Then again, he was even more worried that he couldn’t afford not to. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was that he was right.
And while his subconscious had yet to cough up whatever it was that had started nagging at him in the coroner’s office, it did tell him that this seemed to fit. He just hoped it would spit out whatever it was chewing on soon. He had a feeling he didn’t have a lot of time.
He shook himself again. Okay – he was fairly certain whoever he was looking for was in the process of calling up a god. An incredibly risky and stupid maneuver. But then, smart people didn’t go for a life of crime. So now, the question was, which god? If Dashiell could figure that one out, he might get a jump on finding whoever they were.
Well, he could rule out Western religions. The God of Christianity and Judaism, not to mention Islam, didn’t come when summoned. He came when He felt like it, and contacted the individual or individuals in question. Of course, that was true for most full Gods. Some would deign to respond, when summoned. But most preferred to be the instigators of any contact. And then they’d provide a much easier way to get in touch than this. No, this much power was designed to get a god’s attention.
Maybe they were just going for a demigod. That was much safer, could be handled by three witches or warlocks without too much risk to the casters, and was much more likely to respond to a summons.
Of course, that list wasn’t exactly slim. But he had a big clue. It would be a demigod linked to tigers in some way.
He looked around the section of the Library he was in. Well, there would be some books here, but mainly pop cultural stuff. For the sort of details he needed, he’d be better off with the work the Bureau had done. Much more authoritative.
So he got up and headed even deeper into the building, headed for the parts not open to the public.
Chapter 17
Dashiell approached a door with a frosted glass window, the words “Restricted Access” emblazoned in large letters. As if this wasn’t enough, the two armed guards on either side, members of the Library of Congress Police Force, ensured that no one entered without a proper pass.
Dashiell reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim black wallet. He flipped it open. Inside was a badge that identified him as a former gov
ernment employee with clearance to enter this portion of the Library. The guard on the right looked over the ID, nodded and then turned to the door. He pressed a code into the keypad next to it, while the guard on the left pressed his thumb into a sensor on his side.
With an audible click, the door opened, and Dashiell stepped through. It closed behind him and he heard the locks engaging. He nodded to the two guards on this side of the door, before looking at what lay before him.
He was standing in a well-lit hallway, florescent bulbs in the ceiling reflecting off the hospital white tile floor. This portion of the Library looked different than the public sections. The hallway was wide. Three people could easily walk abreast down it, without brushing shoulders. Running down either side of the hallway were large oaken doors. Each door was made of a dark, solid oak, and each had a keypad over the handle.
The doors had no nameplates. Instead, the only indication of what lay inside were the official seals that marked the doors in gold paint. The first few doors carried the familiar symbols of the cabinet departments. A cursory examination would show that, starting with the first door on the right, and then alternating across the hall, the cabinet offices were in order of creation, from the oldest, State, to the newest, Homeland Security.
He walked a good way down the hall before he came to the door he was looking for. It was on the left. He briefly reflected on the fact that the secret archives of his former employer was on the sinister side of the hall, and knew that the former Director would have had something to say about it.
Something Wicked This Way Comes Page 3
