Filled with a flash of inspiration Carter's fingers flew over the keyboard and typed in what happened with Tanaka to see if there had been any similar occurrences. He was disappointed when there wasn't. Seth had seemed alarmed by Tanaka's behavior. Perhaps he had put the kibosh on anyone reporting this behavior. If anyone was going to be involved in the Lords of Baal, then it was going to be Seth. The man had his fingers in pretty much every type of illegal pie that was possible, which was good news for Carter. The wider Seth's grip reached the more chance there was of something slipping through his fingers. Carter had a tight hold on this thread of Hernandez's murder and he wasn't going to let go until it was solved. He was sure that Seth had something to do with it and he hoped that it would lead to him finally being put behind bars. Carter had to repay him for the beating as well. Even though it came from the two muscle-bound goons, it had really been a message from Seth. Carter wasn't interested in the minions. He wanted the big fish.
The more he searched he found some files from various crimes that had been suspected to be committed by the Lords of Baal. Some of them he recognized to be associated with Seth and it confirmed his suspicions. Seth had a flair for the dramatic. Carter wouldn't put it past him to resurrect some old cult to use it to add a bit of intrigue to his crimes, especially because he kept himself based in traditional, street-level operations.
Who would think that a man who specialized in underground fights would be involved in a satanic cult? Carter leaned back in his chair and chuckled to himself. He felt foolish for letting himself be lulled in by Father Constantine's fears. Of course, the cult wasn't real. Any talk of sacrifice or necromancy was far-fetched. It was just a group of criminals using the cult as a cover to try to throw people off the scent. There was nothing for the priest to worry about and Carter would tell him as much later on.
But first, there was someone else to see. A number of the crimes mentioning the Lords of Baal were under the purview of vice, and that meant talking to Sosa, not a proposition which Carter found particularly appealing.
****
Knocking on Sosa's office, he found Sosa with a napkin over his chest eating some chicken wings. Sosa gestured to him with a greasy hand to come in. Carter shut the door behind him. Sosa pulled out some more napkins and wiped his hands.
"My wife makes the best marinade for chicken. I just couldn't wait until lunch. I heard you were in the hospital yesterday. Are you okay?"
"Oh yeah, you know how it is. Just got a bit roughed up while I was chasing justice."
"At least they didn't have guns."
"I know, they were just thugs. I handled it alright."
"What can I do for you?"
"I've got a little favor to ask. I've got a tenuous lead in the Hernandez case. Have you heard of a group called the Lords of Baal?" As soon as the words left Carter's mouth Sosa's face fell, and he cleared his throat as though he was choking on his chicken. He glanced towards the door to check that it was shut, and then he leaned forward, forming a steeple with his hands.
"I'm familiar with this group. We've been trailing them for a while but they're hard to get to grips with. Just when we think we're closing in they slip through our grasp. I guess it's not hard to believe they'd have Hernandez killed."
"You think it fits their MO? What else can you tell me about them?"
Sosa leaned back and ran his hand through his hair. "Not much, unfortunately. I wish I could tell you more. We heard rumblings of some shady organization and we managed to catch some of the lower level guys. They told us the name but nothing else. Claimed they're a cult but I don't know why a cult would be involved in all these crimes. It sounds more like the mafia to me. Personally, I think it's more likely that someone is just using the name to spread fear."
"That's what I'm thinking as well. I have a suspect too. Seth Aguilero."
"He seems the type. He's involved in just about everything else."
"Not that I can prove it yet."
"How did you hear about them, anyway? We've been trying to keep this quiet. People don't need to know that there's a dangerous cult out there. It will only cause mass panic."
"I have a source."
"Keeping things close to your chest as usual I see. Well, if you can nail them for a murder that would certainly be a lot of weight off my shoulders. Something needs to be done about them that's for sure. I can't give you much but there's a warehouse by Van Nuys Airport. We strongly suspect the Lords of Baal own it although we haven't been able to prove it yet as we can't get a warrant. There's shell company after shell company protecting what we think is them so it's a legal mess to fight through before any real action can be taken. But then, Sosa scratched his chin with a still greasy finger and looked thoughtfully at Carter, you have a knack for getting into places you don't belong. So perhaps you can use your legendary charm to get a look."
"I just might," Carter said. He nodded to Sosa and then left the office, leaving Sosa to his chicken wings. Carter immediately pulled out his cell and called Father Constantine.
"Good day detective. How are you feeling? I hope that your wounds have healed," Father Constantine's smooth voice said over the phone. Carter spoke as he strode through the station back to his desk.
"I'm fine. Listen, I was thinking about what you said last night and I've decided to look into the Lords of Baal. I'm not saying that I believe in this necromancy stuff but I do think there could be a group of people using the name for their own agenda, and if this leads me to finding the people who killed Hernandez, then it's a good thing, so I wanted to ask you if you know of anyone else who is involved."
Father Constantine took a long time to answer, so much so that Carter pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure that the call was still connected. Eventually, the priest replied. "I think you should pay a visit to my church detective. We can talk more freely here." Carter was about to reply when the priest ended the call. Carter frowned and exhaled deeply. The priest was acting mysterious and now Carter would have to endure more of his speculation.
As far as Carter was concerned the Lords of Baal were just another criminal organization and should be treated as such. Carter would find out more information about them and then form a task force to try to bring them down, but he needed to know people who were currently in the organization. Information was power and at the moment Father Constantine seemed to be able to get his hands on a lot of information. He was right when he said that people were often more willing to talk to a priest than to a cop. It was a sad state of affairs but it was the way the world worked, and Carter had learned a long time ago that you could work within the nature of the world or fight against it and struggle to maintain your strength.
One of those paths was often more fruitful than the other.
****
Carter lit a cigarette as he made his way to the church, but he put it out before he entered. He could see the lit cross from far away. His skin began to crawl as he got closer but he told himself that he had to keep going for the sake of his job.
When he reached the threshold of the church, he paused for a few moments before he entered. It had been a long time since he stepped foot in a church. It almost felt as though he was betraying himself by stepping in. The old stone was washed gray. This building had seen a lot over its time, and if the walls could talk, they would have told tales of happiness and sorrow, of love and loss. Someone pushed past him. Carter cursed at the rudeness. He adjusted his coat and then took a deep breath as he walked in.
Thankfully he didn't burst into flames. The church was a wide hall with long wooden pews facing towards the pulpit. Huge statues stood like watchmen in the corners of the room. Large paintings hung on the walls, depicting famous scenes from the Bible. Sturdy pillars supported the roof. A swirling painted pattern twisted up the pillars and spilled over the ceiling. It was a marvelous sight and Carter felt in awe at the technique and skill it must have taken to paint it. The temperature in the church was slightly chilly because of all the s
tone but there were a number of people gathered in the space at the front of the church. Tables had been lined out and there were coats and other clothes draped all over them. Homeless people shuffled around, inspecting the clothes and coats to find ones in their size.
There were more of them than Carter would have liked to see, and volunteers who were helping the homeless pick out the right types of clothes. Father Constantine was moving through them all and greeting them warmly. Then he spotted Carter from across the room and held open his arms, smiling warmly.
"I'm so glad you made it! It's a wonderful thing isn't it, to be able to help those in need. We have been fortunate that many people have been generous with their old clothes this year. Please, would you mind coming to help?" the priest said, taking hold of Carter's arm and nudging him in the direction of the tables.
"Well, uh, yeah I guess but we really should talk about what I came here to talk about."
"There's time enough for that to come. But first, we really do need to help these people, why don't you go over there and help that gentleman pick out a coat," the priest said. Carter knew there was no point objecting so he went over and was surprised to see that it was the same vagrant he had seen a number of times over the past couple of days. The man nodded slightly. He had thinning gray hair that was long, down to his shoulders and a wispy beard. He stood with a hunched back and his fingers were skeletal. He looked as though he had been living on the streets for a number of years. The stench of alcohol was heavy around him. Carter knew that all too well.
"I think this one might fit you," Carter said, pulling out a random coat and handing it to the man. He took it and looked at it for a second. His hands shook. He put the coat back on the table.
"Thank you," he said, and then turned to look at the clothes he had previously been looking at.
"I don't know if you remember me but I saw you a couple of times yesterday. You staying around here?"
"Yes," the man said, and coughed. His voice was raspy. "I live under the bridge near the dam. I like the water."
"I can imagine. Well, I just want to tell you to go carefully if you go poking around in residential areas like these. There are a number of people who own guns around here and they won't like people on their property." The man nodded slightly and went back to looking through the clothes. Carter didn't want to make his words sound like a threat, more a warning. It was bad enough that this man had to live on the streets; he didn't need to die because someone got a little jumpy. Carter's eyes moved to the rest of the homeless people. They all looked broken and weathered by life. So many of them had been forgotten by the world and relied on the charity of people like Father Constantine.
It was sad how easy it was for people to slip through the cracks. It could happen to anyone without them realizing it and Carter's heart was heavy. It seemed stupid how opulent the church was when there were so many people here who had but a handful of possessions to their name. Where was God when these people really needed them? Nowhere close, that was for sure.
Carter kept trying to get Father Constantine's attention, but the man was always occupied talking with someone else. Carter kept handing out clothes for longer than he wanted. It felt as though he was wasting time. He liked helping these people but there was a murder to be solved. There was a point where he lost track of Father Constantine. He was about to go and carry on with the search by himself as he had already wasted most of the morning and the afternoon when Father Constantine appeared by his side. The man walked so softly that he was able to creep up on Carter, and usually that was an impossible task for anyone. Carter prided himself on his awareness of his surroundings.
"I think it's time you and I had a conversation," the priest said. The two of them walked away from the table of clothes and the other people. They walked in the shadows of the church. The temperature dropped even more. The brass pipes of the organ rose against the wall forebodingly. Everything seemed so big and impressive. Carter wondered if the whole point of this building was to strike fear into the people who came to worship God. "I am pleased that you have opened your mind to the possibility that there is a satanic cult working their dark magic in our midst."
"I wouldn't go that far, but any leads to Hernandez's death will be helpful."
"Well, I think I may know the leader. I taught him as a young boy and I may be able to get in contact with him through my mother. If I am right, it is a grave thing. I have taught so many boys I suppose it was inevitable that some of them would stray from the light yet I cannot help but feel as though I have let them down."
"Don't be too hard on yourself Father. Call me when you have any news. And be careful. These men are dangerous."
With that Carter left the church as quickly as possible, not wanting to spend any more time in there than was necessary.
Chapter 11
B ack at the precinct, Carter was investigating any known accomplices of Seth to see if he could find a concrete link between Seth and the Lords of Baal. Then he received a disturbing call. Father Constantine was in hospital having been attacked.
There was no doubt in Carter's mind who had been responsible. The cult was real. He raced down to the hospital and winced as he saw the priest's bruised face. It was a sad world when people would attack a man of God so brutally and without mercy. Although Carter had philosophical differences with Father Constantine, he recognized the priest to be a good man and he didn't deserve this. The cult had a lot to answer for, and the list was only getting longer as time went on.
"They got me as I was leaving my mother's house," the priest croaked, "They must have known I would go there." He gave Carter a brief description of the men and then said something that chilled Carter to the bone. "Before they attacked, they invited demons into their body imbuing them with superhuman strength and agility. Please, before we go any further let me baptize you in order to protect you. It is the only chance we have. Please, Carter, it is the only thing that will give me peace of mind. You may not wish to accept your role in this war but it is a role you have, nonetheless."
Carter looked at the frail man, beaten and bloodied. He took pity on him and managed to let go of his pride for a few moments to accept Father Constantine's offer. Carter bowed his head and felt the priest press his thumb against his head. Father Constantine spoke a few words, including some in Latin, and then the deed was done.
"Go forth my son and do the work of the Lord," Father Constantine said before his head lolled back against the pillow. His chest rose and fell, but the man was weakened. Carter clenched his fists and sprinted out of the hospital ready to get justice for all those who needed it. He raced back to the station and rounded up a few of his officers to get to the warehouse. It was the only lead he had, and he was done waiting. He was going to arrest anyone there and deal with the fallout later.
****
The warehouse was nondescript and looked about the furthest place that a cult would use, but it was away from the main city and quite isolated. It was ordinary too, low-key; an excellent place to hide. The task force ran in brandishing guns. Warning shouts ran out telling anyone in there to stand down. For all Carter knew there could have been an entire army in there but as he strode in there were only a few men. From the description, Father Constantine had given he arrested the two men for assault, and to his delight, Leo Tanaka was there as well.
"I won't let you disappear again this time," Carter said as he slapped the cuffs on the man himself.
Back at the station, Carter was interrogating Tanaka himself. He'd made sure that Tanaka wasn't let out of his sight, not that it helped. Carter was yelling at him, telling him to reveal how he had escaped before but Tanaka simply didn't know.
"I don't remember, and I certainly don't know Latin. I'm afraid that perhaps you misheard me," he said. This only served to stoke Carter's anger. He wasn't getting anywhere even though he felt like he had one of the pieces of the puzzle in his hand, yet he just couldn't seem to make it fit. Tanaka seemed to be amused that Ca
rter couldn't figure out the truth of the matter and kept provoking him. Carter came close to giving into anger and beating him, but as soon as he felt his palm slamming against the table Carter removed himself from the situation and went to talk to Sosa instead. He hoped that Tanaka was through with his disappearing acts.
"I hope you have some good news for me," Carter said.
"Depends on what you consider good. The men you brought in have been connected with some violent crimes including the murder of two children and-"
"What the hell? Are you kidding me, Sosa?! How on earth can you still believe in God when there are men like that on this planet? What the hell is wrong with you!" Carter exploded in a fit of anger. Sosa waited for him to calm down and spoke evenly.
"I have to believe in God Carter. If I didn't everything I saw on this job would drive me to suicide. I have to believe that there's something better worth fighting for, and God gives me the strength to do that."
Carter didn't have a reply to that. Sosa spun on his heels and walked away. Carter was about to chase after him but then thought better of it. Sosa's answer had surprised him and Carter was beginning to think that his stance on religion was too strict. This case was playing on his mind. He still hadn't made any real progress and wasn't any closer to getting Hernandez's killer. But he had Tanaka in custody. That was something. He returned to the interrogation room and was glad to see that Tanaka was still there. This time Carter was going to keep his cool.
BELIEVE in DEMONS Page 6
