by Nancy Mehl
Even though she could tell the situation was serious, Alex couldn’t quell the feeling of exhilaration bubbling up inside her. She clasped her hands under the table and tried to appear like the calm professional agent she knew she was.
Jeff sat down at the table, then gestured toward the phone sitting on it. “I’m expecting a call from Kansas City. They’re asking for our help.”
Alex nodded, studying the other agents around the table. She’d noticed Supervisory Special Agent Logan Hart as soon as she joined the unit. It was hard not to. He was good-looking, with kind blue eyes and dark blond hair that always seemed to need a good combing. Alex thought it looked good that way, windswept and romantic. She’d spoken to him a few times and found that his easy smile and manner matched his personality. Some people in the unit called him “Preacher” because of his spiritual beliefs, but they said it with affection. Everyone seemed to like him.
Before she realized she was doing it, she reached up and touched her bangs. Speaking of windswept, November’s strong breezes could certainly mess with one’s hair. She kept her long dark mane in a ponytail when she was working, though, so the wind wasn’t really a huge problem. However, her bangs were another story. She hoped they looked all right. Now that she was thinking of them, she wanted to fluff them out. She fought the urge, but it was difficult to put her hands back in her lap.
She was being ridiculous. She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Being part of the BAU was everything to her. Her focus was on her career. Any kind of relationship would just get in the way.
Looking across the table, she caught Monty Wong staring at her. She liked him, but he made her a little nervous. He was attentive and serious, and he rarely smiled. He was nice enough but just a little tightly wound. She tightened her lips to hold back a smile when she realized she was describing herself.
“Logan and Monty, you’re here because you’re seasoned and your work has been exemplary,” Jeff said. He turned to Alex. “And you’re here, Alex, because you worked with us out of the Kansas City Field Office. The special agent in charge has high praise for you, and your work as our NCAVC coordinator was impressive.” He locked his gaze on hers. “Kansas City PD is asking for our help. I want you to coordinate with them and our Kansas City office. Having someone who already knows the KCPD and our agents in that area will be really helpful.”
Alex’s body tensed. Lead the team? She knew she was respected for her work with NCAVC, but she’d only been here six months. What did Logan and Monty think of this? She quickly glanced at them. Monty’s expression hadn’t changed. Logan looked a little surprised, but he covered it well. A few extra blinks, but she didn’t see any other physical actions that betrayed his true emotions.
“Yes, sir,” she said. She had no reason to say anything else. This wasn’t a voluntary assignment. When you were told to go, you went. And you did what you were told to do. Period.
Jeff started to say something else, but then the phone rang. He pressed the button for the speakerphone.
“We’re here, Stephen,” he said.
Stephen Barstow was a well-known figure in the Kansas City law enforcement community. A decorated detective, he’d earned Alex’s respect as they worked several cases together during her time in Kansas City.
“Good,” Stephen said. “I hear you’ve assigned Supervisory Special Agent Donovan to help us, is that right?”
“Yes. She’s sitting right here.”
“Hello, Alex.” The smoothness she remembered in his voice came through the phone.
“Hi, Stephen. Glad to be working with you again.”
“Same here.”
“I also have Supervisory Special Agents Logan Hart and Monty Wong with us.”
“Good to have you all on board. So as you know, Jeff, we have a problem. Four murders. Only a week or two between each one, and they all look random. Nothing about the victims is similar—as if our UNSUB is selecting whoever is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Three men, one woman. Two Caucasian, one Black, and one Hispanic. Three of them younger, one in his seventies. All the bodies were discovered on trains and were stabbed multiple times.”
They could hear him take a deep breath before going on. “Unusual tags on the outside of the boxcars. Something like Bible verses, but we’ve searched several Bible apps to find them, and they’re not in any version we could locate. We’re not sure what the UNSUB is trying to tell us. He signed his work, but we have no idea what the initials TM mean. His name? Or something else?”
There was a slight pause. “I’m sending you some photos of the tags right now, along with everything else we’ve got, which isn’t much. We don’t have any real evidence. This guy is careful . . . and smart. At this point, we’re not in charge. He is. Have your team look over this information before they get here, okay? I’ll expect them at the command post in the morning. We’re setting it up now. Does that work for you?”
“They’ll be there, Stephen. Talk to you soon.”
The call done, Jeff turned on his laptop and pulled up the information Barstow had just emailed. He sent the file to a large screen on the wall and began slowly clicking through the photos.
In mere seconds, Alex felt like all the blood in her body had frozen, as if time itself had come to a halt. Her mind couldn’t seem to process what she was seeing.
How could this be happening?
2
Logan had listened closely to the detective from Kansas City, but he’d had to fight to stay focused. What was that scent Alex Donovan wore? It was a mixture of lilacs and . . . something else. His mind kept trying to figure it out, which was infuriating. He wasn’t interested in Alex. He was a Christian, and he had no plans to get involved with a woman who didn’t share his faith.
So why did his eyes drift her way whenever she was in the room? And why did he keep wondering what she would look like if she released her thick, wavy black hair from the band that held it in a ponytail? Alex wasn’t classically beautiful. Her bangs were no doubt an attempt to hide a high forehead. Her nose was a little long, and her mouth was too wide. But those slight imperfections faded when you looked into her eyes—gray-blue irises framed by black lashes. The way she outlined them made them seem even larger than they were.
She was also crazy smart, and when she looked at him, he felt as if she knew what he was thinking.
He felt his face flush.
“Grab your gear and get ready to go,” Jeff said. “Any questions?”
Logan shook his head and glanced at Alex. Her face had gone white, and her eyes were wide. “Is something wrong?” he asked her.
She was quiet for several seconds before saying, “I . . . I need to speak to you, Jeff.” She stared down at the table. “Alone, please.”
Her request bothered Logan. “We’re a team,” he said. “Whatever you have to say, you should say it in front of all of us.” His tone was sharper than it should have been.
“Hey,” Monty said. “If she wants to speak to the chief alone, that’s okay. If it applies to the case, we’ll get an update.”
“Does what you want to tell me have something to do with this case?” Jeff asked Alex.
She looked up at him. After another few seconds, she nodded.
“Then these agents stay, Alex. If it’s something personal, that’s different.”
“Do you have some idea who our UNSUB is?” Logan asked.
Alex shook her head slowly. She’d hung her suit jacket on the back of her chair, and now, because she wore a short-sleeved blouse, Logan could see the muscles in her arms working as she clenched and unclenched her hands on top of the table.
“No. But I . . . I know what the tags on the boxcars mean.”
Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. “You understand them?”
“Yes.”
“For now, don’t tell me how you know. Just tell me what they mean.”
“Go back to the first photo,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jeff clicked on the images u
ntil he found the images he wanted. “This is from the first murder,” he said. “Just outside Kansas City.” Then he read, “‘Angels walked on the earth. M 4:7.’”
“Stephen’s right,” Monty said. “That almost sounds like something from the Bible.”
Alex stared at it, then her eyes narrowed and her face flushed. Logan could almost hear the wheels in her mind turning.
“No. It’s not from the Bible,” she said. “Show me the next one, please.”
Jeff brought it up. Alex stared at this one for only a few seconds, then read, “‘And the angels made war. N 1:21.’”
Jeff shook his head. “So what are those notations? Like you said, these references aren’t biblical, but they seem like it, with chapters and verses.”
The red in Alex’s cheeks deepened. “They’re exactly that. Chapters and verses from a book. For example, M 4:7 is Marduk, chapter four, verse seven. It actually says something like ‘Angels walked on the earth, but the world regarded them not.’ N 1:21 is the book of Nergal, chapter one, verse twenty-one. ‘And the angels made war with the evil ones.’”
Jeff brought up the third photo and read, “‘He arises. T 7:12.’”
Alex squinted at the image. She was again silent for a few moments before saying, “I can’t remember which book T is. Sorry.”
Her eyes darted toward Logan and Monty, then back to Jeff. After hesitating a moment, she said, “From the time I was twelve, I was raised by an aunt who believed the teachings in a book that theorized the world is populated by beings from another world. Some good. Some malevolent. Everyone on earth is classified as either a demon or an angel. This is how the people who believe in this book explain the concept of evil. Supposedly, if a person is born with demon blood, all their descendants will be demons. If they’re born with angel blood, they’re angels forever. The same applies to their descendants. Demons are destined to cause pain and destruction. Angels are called to fight the darkness.”
Monty raised an eyebrow. “What if an angel and demon get together?”
Alex shook her head. “Can’t happen. According to the teachings, angels are repelled by demons and vice versa.”
“Well, that could explain a few relationships I’ve had,” Monty said under his breath.
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Logan grinned at him.
“You say this woman raised you?” Jeff asked.
“Yes. I lost both my parents when I was young. As far as I know, this aunt is my only living relative.”
“What did she say you were?” Logan asked. “An angel or a demon?”
Alex’s slight smile quivered before she said, “We never talked about that. I’m not sure what my aunt thought. Nor do I care.”
Logan flushed with anger. How could a child grow up like that and be . . . normal? “Well, you fight the darkness every day. That makes you an angel in my book.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he was instantly embarrassed. Alex smiled at him, making him feel a little better.
“Thank you, but our UNSUB isn’t following your book,” she said. “He obviously has a copy of the book my aunt quoted to me.”
Jeff nodded. “So our UNSUB is sending us messages from some book. But what is he trying to tell us?”
“We need to use your knowledge to get ahead of him, Alex,” Monty said. “Looks like we have a secret weapon. You can help us find him.”
“I doubt he’s going to make it easy,” Alex said. “Show me the message from this last murder.”
Once again, Jeff brought up an image. “This is from where they just found the fourth body in Independence.”
This time Alex frowned. “‘A 13:12. I am the Destroyer.’”
“What does it mean?” Jeff asked.
“This book claims that, at some point, the demons and angels will engage in all-out war and that the Destroyer, one of the chief demons, will wipe out one third of the world’s population. It’s a prophecy.”
“Something similar is in the Bible’s book of Revelation,” Logan said. “Something about four angels being unleashed and a third of mankind perishing.”
“That does sound similar. This verse is found in the book of Abaddon,” Alex said.
“The destroyer,” Logan repeated softly.
“You know that Abaddon means destroyer?”
“Yeah. Again, Revelation. It mentions an angel named Abaddon.” He sighed. “I’m not that knowledgeable about end-time prophecies. Sorry, I only remember a few things from reading about it in the past.”
“Do you see any other similarities between your aunt’s book and the Bible?” Jeff asked.
“I don’t know much about the Bible, but I doubt it. This book says the end is already decided. People are either angels or demons. They have no choice, and they will never be anything else.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “After being brought up by someone who kept trying to ram this stuff down my throat, I don’t have much interest in any kind of religion. But from what I’ve heard about Christians, they believe people can change. They can decide their own fate, isn’t that right?”
Logan nodded. “If you mean we can choose the forgiveness Christ offers and become new, then yes. It’s referred to as ‘being saved.’”
“Then the difference between The Book and the Bible is like night and day.”
“You just call it the book,” Jeff said. “But what’s its title?”
“That’s it. It’s considered so sacred that no one can be trusted with its true name, so they just call it The Book—both words said as if they’re capitalized. Followers—the angels—call themselves the Circle, and they’re the only people allowed to read it.”
“Okay, so what is our UNSUB trying to tell us?” Jeff asked, his voice tight with concern.
“I think he believes he’s a demon—the Destroyer called to carry out the destruction I mentioned. Obviously, he’s delusional. No one has that kind of power.”
Jeff’s face went blank, and he was silent for several seconds before he picked up his phone. “Get Agent Suter in here. Now.”
Monty started to say something, but Jeff held up his hand, signaling him to be quiet. The silence in the room was thick with apprehension. What was going on? Jeff was never at a loss for words.
A few minutes later, they heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Jeff called out.
The door was pushed open, and Moreen Suter, a BAU agent, walked in. Logan admired her. Smart, insightful, and bold, she had helped to bring quite a few initially unknown subjects, referred to as UNSUBs, to justice.
“Yes, Boss?” she said.
“Repeat what you reported to me earlier.”
Moreen stared at him for a moment, then said, “We heard from a research lab in Kansas City. They think they may have a problem with a shipment of viruses from Ethiopia. They’re not sure yet, though. It’s just an alert for now.”
“What kind of problem?” Logan asked.
“Before anyone gets too concerned, remember there may not be anything amiss. Sometimes things get misplaced—”
“Deadly pathogens get misplaced?” Alex said. “What kind of Mickey Mouse lab is this?”
“Unfortunately, not all overseas labs have the safety protocols they should,” Jeff said. “This has been an ongoing problem for a while now. The CDC is trying to correct the situation.”
“What might be missing?” Logan asked.
“Six inactive samples were sent from Addis Ababa to Kansas City for testing. Scientists are trying to develop effective treatments for patients already infected with certain viruses.”
“You’re talking about a vaccine?” Monty asked.
“Yes, we have preventive vaccines for this particular strain but nothing to combat the virus in patients who are already sick. This is an attempt at a cure.”
“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “You said these samples were inactive. So they’re not contagious?”
Moreen nodded. “Researchers can wo
rk successfully with inactive samples. Obviously, it’s safer.” She took a deep breath. “But after the six samples were received and logged into the lab in Kansas City, the next day they could find only five. Not long after that discovery, they received a call from the lab in Addis Ababa. They’re missing an active sample of the virus. Right now both labs are checking carefully, trying to figure out what happened. It could be a simple mistake. Or . . .”
“A dangerous, active virus was shipped to the Kansas City lab and is now missing,” Jeff finished.
“Yes. And this morning the research assistant who received the samples from Ethiopia didn’t show up for work. The lab called the KCPD, who found he’d moved out of his apartment.” Moreen sighed. “According to the head of the lab in Addis Ababa, the chemist who prepared the samples is missing as well, and they have reason to worry about some of his recent actions. Coworkers said he talked a lot about the ability to mutate certain viruses. Turn them into superbugs.”
“Would something like that be more dangerous than COVID-19?” Monty asked.
“Yes.”
The room fell completely silent. Logan was certain everyone was thinking the same thing he was.
“What virus are we talking about?” he finally asked.
Moreen swallowed hard. “It’s the Zaire Ebola virus. Already extremely lethal. Incredibly deadly. If it were altered in some way, it could be the most devastating virus we’ve ever seen. We could be talking about an easily spread pathogen with a ninety percent mortality rate.”
“That’s it,” Alex said, her voice so soft Logan could barely hear her. “Our train killer has the virus, and he’s going to unleash it. That’s how he intends to carry out the prophecy.”
3
Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Jeff said sharply. “We need more information before we can confidently link our UNSUB to the missing sample. If it’s even really gone.”
He pointed his finger at Moreen. “I want you on this right now. Find out for certain if that sample has really disappeared—and who the missing researcher is. Once you have a name, contact the KCPD and tell them to put out an APB. And run this guy through NCIC and ViCAP. I doubt he has a criminal record since they would have run a background check before hiring him. But maybe we can check the VIN number for any vehicles he’s owned, see if he was ever stopped by law enforcement. We need to figure out where he might be.”
