“It seems Enoch Enterprises was a subsidiary of a larger company—”
“Grigori Ventures,” I said.
Putnam nodded. “Yes. Clarence had access to their database and learned all about the ‘trait’ of those in the bloodline. Once he brought the information to me, we came up with our plan of attack.”
Finishing my sandwich, I asked, “Which brings me to my next question. What do you need with me?” I flicked my eyes toward Alders and added, “…with us?”
Putnam twisted his mouth. “I don’t know how the Watchers found out about Clarence, but until I know how much they know, we are all in danger. We are still several days away from perfecting the virus.
“You are investigators. So: investigate! Find out how much the Watchers know about us, and, if necessary, stop them.”
Chapter Nineteen
And on the day of the great judgment he shall be cast into the fire. And heal the earth which the angels have corrupted, and proclaim the healing of the earth, that they may heal the plague, and that all the children of men may not perish through all the secret things that the Watchers have disclosed and have taught their sons.
–Book of Enoch 10:7-8
The night was punctuated with the sounds of gunfire, police and ambulance sirens, and the honking of horns as those who didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire evacuated the city.
As midnight approached, there came an eerie silence, heavy with anticipation. There was an old, portable television in the kitchen, but no amount of playing with the antenna could bring in a signal.
One of the security men had a radio app on his cell phone, and turned it to an all-news station. The only subject of conversation was the terrorist’s video, and the speculation on the fates of those members of the legal community who were the subjects of the bounty offered.
One minute after midnight, they announced the first casualties.
“I pray for their souls,” Putnam said. “It is for them that we must stop the Watchers by any means necessary.”
I didn’t want to hear any more news updates or the priest’s rhetoric. I got up and left the kitchen. Alders’ eyes followed me, but she didn’t move from her seat.
There was a series of storage rooms in the back of the warehouse where they’d set up several cots. I made my way there. I had been awake since early yesterday morning, and I was having trouble concentrating. There was nothing I could do tonight. Going out into the city now would be taking my life in my hands.
I felt frustrated and powerless, no longer in control of my own destiny.
Over the past year, my role in stopping the individual Watchers had involved nothing more than identifying them and calling in Father Webber to secure them. At the time, I believed I was effective in my efforts, but as it turned out, all I’d been doing was momentarily inconveniencing the spirits possessing their hosts. Stanley Lancaster was proof of that.
Father Webber’s plan to trap the fallen angels in cryogenically sealed hosts had only served to delay the inevitable.
As much as I loathed Putnam’s plan to wipe out every human who carried the genetic trait of the Watchers, I couldn’t think of another solution.
Long minutes passed while I lay on the bunk, trying to come up with a plan that didn’t involve the deliberate murder of thousands of innocent people.
I heard the gentle click of the door handle as someone opened it and entered the room.
Alders closed the door behind her. She walked over to the bunk on the opposite side of me and sat down.
“Thirty-two reported deaths, and probably more to come. I listened to the broadcast from beginning to end,” she said. “I thought, maybe if I let the horror of the murders sink in, I could get outraged enough to go along with you and Putnam.” She shook her head and raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. “I just can’t do it. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but I can’t justify killing one innocent person to save another.”
“Neither can I,” I said quietly. I didn’t think Putnam was eavesdropping, but there was no sense taking any chances.
“What?” Alders looked at me with a mixture of confusion and surprise, then lowered her voice when I put my fingers to my lips. She said, “I thought you were on board with Putnam’s plan…”
“If I’d said no, we’d be useless to him. Even if he didn’t have us killed, he’d make sure we were out of his way until he could put his scheme into effect.”
“Then … what’re we doing?”
I motioned with my hand, encompassing the warehouse. “I don’t see any production facilities here to develop the virus. He has to have a lab set up somewhere, and he hasn’t volunteered its location, or even its existence, to us. Until we can find it, we need to stay on his good side.”
“Once we find the lab, we’re going to destroy the virus, then?”
I nodded.
“So, how are we going to stop the Watcher terrorists?”
“I don’t know, but you saw how Putnam was able to stand up to Anton earlier. The Watchers are not invincible; they have vulnerabilities. We just need to find out their weaknesses, and then exploit them.”
Alders reached for the cross on her necklace, and regarded it as if realizing for the first time that there was power in it. “He used holy water on Anton, and prayer. You don’t have to be a priest for that.”
I smiled. “No, you don’t.” Then I lay back on the mattress. “If we’re going to fight, we’re going to need rest. I don’t know about you, but I could sleep like the dead.”
* * *
In the morning, Putnam informed us that the mayor had declared a state of emergency. He was in talks with the state governor, and had called in the National Guard to bolster the sorely taxed police force.
“Martial law?” Alders asked, eyes wide.
I whistled. “We’d better be careful out there today.”
“What’s your plan?” the priest asked me.
Sharing a look with Alders, I said, “We’re going to head back to the deli.”
“Last I checked, it was well on its way to burning to the ground.”
“Mike set off the bomb before they were able to pack everything away. There might be something there that will tell us where they were going. Also, two of his men died in the explosion. Maybe we can get an ID off them and work that angle.”
Alders spoke up. “We’ll track them down, Father Putnam. Not to worry.”
The priest said, “I’ll stop worrying when the Bellator and all of his kind are dead.
I cleared my throat. “How’s Clarence?”
“See for yourself.”
He led us to the office, where Brigson had spent the night on a couch lining one wall. The geneticist was awake and lucid.
“I guess I have you two to thank for help,” Brigson said, looking up as Alders sat in an office chair, and I rested my rump against the desk.
I said, “If you hadn’t left the breadcrumb for me to follow, we might not have found you.”
Putnam raised an eyebrow. “Breadcrumb?”
I explained about the security video at the pharmacy, then turned to Brigson. “Do you know how they figured out who you are?”
“I don’t think they did.” He offered a weak smile. “I was just looking for a different place to buy lunch, and happened to go into the deli on a whim. It was only by chance that the Watcher named Mike was there. I’d seen him before—not him, but his picture. It was in a report I saw when I was working for Enoch Industries in Chicago. He was on Sam’s list as a possible recruit.”
I asked, “So Mike recognized you?”
“How could he?” Brigson said. “Sam never made contact with him.”
“So what happened?” Alders asked.
The geneticist shrugged. “I thought I played it cool. I ordered my sandwich, smiled like a regular Joe, and left.” He glanced over at Putnam. “I went back to the office, but you weren’t there. I left a message on your cell to call me—”
The priest n
odded. “By the time I got it, you must have left for home. I tried you there.”
With a sigh, Brigson said, “I never made it. When I went to pick up a refill on my prescription, Mike was waiting for me. They took me back to the deli and questioned me for hours. Then that other Watcher got into my head and…” His skin paled at the memory.
“Anton,” I said. “That’s his name. He hosts Tebaliel, angel of nightmares.”
Alders ground her teeth. “He got into our heads, too.”
I asked, “How did you come to work with Sam Lancaster?”
As if sensing my suspicion, Brigson gave me a disarming smile. “About a year ago, I started hearing things, whispers. It got worse, to the point I thought I was going crazy.
“I got diagnosed as a schizophrenic and went into therapy. I got a prescription, which really helped.
“When I put through a medical claim, the lab where I was working found out. They didn’t want me to be associated with them. Oh, they didn’t come out and say it, but when they started shuffling me between departments, downgrading my security clearance, and cutting back my shifts, I knew they were pushing me out.
“That’s when I met Sam Lancaster. He told me some of the most brilliant minds in history suffered as I did. Philip K. Dick, Vincent van Gogh, John Nash.
“I gladly joined his team and began working on identifying a rare gene called ‘monoamine oxidase c’.”
Putnam said, “We’ve been calling it the corruption gene.”
“It’s very similar to MAO-A,” Brigson said, “a deficiency of which affects aggression, and MOA-B, which some geneticists theorize is linked to the aging process. It’s highly controversial in our community—”
I coughed. “I’m not sure I understand any of that.”
“From the tests we performed,” Brigson said, “we believe MAO-C affects cognitive abilities. It was only after I witnessed some…” He seemed to struggle for the right word. “I thought I was having a delusion.”
Alders said, “But you weren’t.”
“No.” Brigson swallowed. “When I saw what they were capable of—the Watchers—I knew they had to be stopped. They were too powerful. I started to develop a MAO-I, an inhibitor. On the samples I tested this on, it didn’t simply restrict the gene; it destroyed it.”
Putnam said, “When Clarence came on board, I put him to work developing a delivery system.”
“A viral strain coded to join with MAO-C.”
I pitched my voice to make it seem like I was anxious to hear good news. “When will it be ready for deployment?”
Brigson glanced at Putnam. “If all goes well, it should be ready for release in a week.”
Standing, Putnam said, “So you see, if the Watchers track us down before we are ready, all will be lost. We need to find out how they knew Brigson was a threat. At the very least, we need to know if they know about our plan.”
Giving me a pat on the back, Alders said, “We’re on it. But first, I think we need to arm ourselves.” She looked pointedly at the priest. “With your kind of weapons.”
* * *
“The best defense against Watchers is to keep as far away from them as possible,” Putnam said as he handed us various items we could use in case of an encounter. “Of course, since you’re trying to hunt them down, that might be problematic.”
I smiled grimly and picked up a necklace with a cross pendant. Holding it in my hands a moment before putting it on, I gave the priest a questioning look.
He grimaced. “There’s no tracker in it.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I promise,” he said. He handed one to Alders, but she shook her head and produced the necklace her mother had given her.
Putnam looked at it. “It has some power, but it hasn’t been consecrated,” he said, and reached out for it. Folding his hands over the cross, he prayed for a minute, and then released the pendant. “That should give you more protection.”
A thought came to me. “Why didn’t your security guards wear crosses for protection?”
“They did.” The priest jerked his thumb in their direction. In a sour voice, he said, “Atheists. No faith. That is why I need you two. You’re both believers.”
I glanced at Alders, who regarded her cross thoughtfully before tucking it back inside her shirt. She may not have believed in the power of fallen angels, or that they truly existed, until last night, but now it was obvious she was as much of a believer as her mother had been.
Putnam handed me a vial containing holy water. “Don’t think for a moment that this will do any serious harm to a Watcher. The most you can hope for is to distract them momentarily, or interrupt their powers long enough for you to run.”
“What about one of those restraints?” I asked. “The kind Webber used on the Casanova Killer?”
“By far, the most powerful weapon you can use against evil is faith. I’m sure, if you held absolute conviction of spirit, you could bind a fallen angel. If we had the time, I could teach you the rituals of binding and exorcism.”
I said, “While that would be good to know, it’s not just the Watchers I’m worried about. It’s the Wild West out there. I’d feel better if I had a gun.”
Putnam waved his hand at one of the security men, who came over and handed us two Berettas. I checked the clip, the chamber, and the safety, then slid the piece into my overcoat pocket. Alders followed the same procedure and put hers into the holster at her waist, then pulled the bottom of her hoodie over it.
“All right,” Putnam said, assessing us. “All you need now is transportation. You can take the SUV, if you like.”
I grumbled. “It’s far too big. You’ve got to imagine how many abandoned cars there are out there. Traffic could seriously hamper our ability to get around.”
“What, then? I don’t think the buses will be running today, and good luck hailing a taxi.”
“I saw a scooter rental shop on the other side of the expressway.”
Alders gave me a sharp, surprised look.
I shrugged. “They’re small and maneuverable. And,” I said with a growl, “I’m done with walking.”
Chapter Twenty
And the whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin. And to Gabriel said the Lord: Proceed against the bastards and the reprobates, and against the children of fornication: and destroy the children of fornication and the children of the Watchers from amongst men and cause them to go forth: send them one against the other that they may destroy each other in battle: for length of days shall they not have.
–Book of Enoch 10:8-10
If it hadn’t been for the knowledge that dozens of people had lost their lives, and that the city looked like something out of a war-torn third-world country, I would have enjoyed zipping in and out of traffic on the scooter.
The most I could coax out of it was about thirty miles per hour, which was enough for what I needed, but at the same time, it served to remind me what riding a full cylinder motorbike was like. One summer, before I’d joined the Chicago Police Department, I’d purchased a Suzuki and toured the East Coast. Maybe, one day, I’d drive across America…
Although the scooter dealership had been closed when Alders and I got there, I’d spotted what looked the manager inside, and got his attention. He came to the door with a shotgun, but dropped his guard when he saw me flash my badge. At first, he hadn’t wanted to give up any of his vehicles for police purposes, but I’d paid for the full insurance package, and purchased two of the more expensive helmets he had in stock. It wouldn’t come close to making up for a lost day of business, but at least he wouldn’t go home that night with nothing to show for his trouble.
Though it seemed every other intersection was jammed, the traffic was lighter than I’d expected overall. Because of the state of emergency, many people opted to stay home from work. Once in a while, a National Guard 5-ton, or Hummer would pass by. The driver would call out on his loudspeaker that c
itizens were advised to stay off the streets to allow emergency vehicles and essential services a clear path.
As we drove between cars and trucks, and sometimes on sidewalks when needed, Alders and I drew odd stares and curious glances from those hearty individuals who had decided to venture out today. Maybe it was my own sense of self-consciousness, but I imagined seeing a large man on a tiny motorized bike was unusual enough to warrant the extra attention.
As we neared the Gowanus district, the first major obstacle presented itself: the entire block around the deli was cordoned off with yellow sawhorse barriers.
There were no police officers in sight, but each intersection was manned by two armed soldiers. I’d had some experience with members of the guard in Chicago, and though they took a lot of guff for being ‘weekend warriors’, those I dealt with took their duties seriously and with as much professionalism as their full-time counterparts.
As Alders and I pulled up to the nearest pair, they tightened their grip on their rifles. One of them put a hand up.
“This area is off-limits, sir,” the man said. “Please return to your home and remain there. This is not a good place for sight-seeing.”
“I’m a cop,” I said.
The guard blinked at me, looked pointedly at my scooter, and then frowned.
I held up my badge. “Chicago PD,” I said. “I’m here consulting on the terrorist case.”
The soldier looked at his companion, who shook his head.
“I’m sorry, sir; unless you have clearance…”
“Who’s the officer on point?” I asked. The guard didn’t seem to want to answer me. I sighed. “Can you radio whoever is in charge and tell them we were the hostages in the terrorist video last night.”
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 92
