Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1)

by Suggs, Lester

  “Bastard,” Joe muttered.

  Then he remembered someone else he had to call. His supervisor, Director Graves was going to shit a Buddha over the death of an agent in an active investigation. His investigation. “Piss,” Joe said.

  His cell read ten thirty eight pm. Best get it over with, Joe thought. Before the old man is sound asleep.

  “Yes?” Arthur answered.

  “Boss, this is Joe,” Joe replied. He was already regretting this call.

  “Shit Joe, what happened?” He and Arthur had a close working relationship and the experience to know each other's actions.

  “A shop owner found our newest agent dead in his DHD car. Tom Palocsik.” Joe said quietly. "No sign of trauma. No Blood. No sign of a fight.”

  “Captain Flashlight?” Director Graves asked, hoping Joe would prove his hunch wrong.

  “Most likely sir,” Director Graves cringed when Joe said, “Seems an unusual something penetrated the roof of the car. No sign of burns, catalyst, or strain on the ceiling.”

  “Joe, recall our conversation earlier? Where I gave you permission to call in other assets?” Arthur Graves asked in a supervisory tone.

  “Yes sir” Joe said.

  “Decide which reaction to employ and do so. I don't want anymore of our people killed. And Joe, I expect a report on my desk when I arrive in the morning.”

  “Of course Art.”

  “Everyone else okay?” Arthur asked.

  “Yes, sir. My techies are safe,” Joe said, almost sheepishly. He disliked losing people on the job. Joe would feel responsible for weeks.

  “Good night Joe.” Arthur ended the call.

  Joe winced and went back to his search pattern. Before his eyes hit the ground Joe entered his passcode back into his smart phone. Satisfying the additional passcode for agency interoffice email, Joe found the message from his supervisor and made a decision to add more security to his investigation. There would be no questioning him. Arthur all but said it.

  The Countdown

  There was a strangeness to waking up each morning and finding his mind and thoughts to himself. Griffin would enjoy a small window of his past life before Gabriel would return to share his body and his mind. Since Gabriel and he had made this adventure agreement, Gabriel would slip away, while Griffin slept, to do or go where ever, what ever Archangels do. Often, Griffin could recall a dream would shift from strict structure to the more familiar bizarreness of his usual dreams. When he woke, trying to trace the dream and the shift down, was often futile as each slipped away as dreams do. In his heart though, Griffin knew they were related.

  Gabriel was kind enough to wait until breakfast before remerging with him. At least all of the more personal routines were his alone. Griffin would be mortified if he had to carry on a conversation with a divine being while washing his junk.

  Griffin, dressed for the day in jeans, a comfortable Tee shirt and sneakers, sat down for his simple breakfast - coffee, three boiled egg whites, and blackberries. He enjoyed his breakfast with singular conversation inside his mind. Today's plan was simple. Gain funds from some source, Gabriel felt overly confident, buy train tickets (to where Griffin did not know), buy clothes, and a few supplies. He touched the list written in a notepad next to him on the table. Should be a simple day. Griffin shrugged thinking of Itishree. There were no plans to see her today but he would contrive to fit it in. Gabriel would allow him some measure of happy time. At least he got her phone number from last night's dinner.

  “Did you sleep well?” came Gabriel's familiar deep tuneful voice.

  Griffin glanced up to see Gabriel is ghost-like semi transparent form, sitting across the table. His face devoid of expression.

  How long had he been there? Griffin asked in his mind. Again Griffin remembered Gabriel could read and communicate with his mind, within a uncertain proximity.

  Griffin chose to speak aloud. “Well, thank you Gabriel. And you?”

  “I don't sleep.” Gabriel thought to both of them. Griffin noticed harmonized notes under the surface of Gabriel's thought speech. Had those always been there?

  “I was given many attributes as an Archangel. As are all angels. These attributes would be considered beautiful by terrestrial standards. Human or not.” Gabriel said unprompted.

  “I’ve been expecting an exalted display of wings with a melody of cherubs trumpeting in the background. Are those displays real or folklore?” Griffin asked.

  There was a pause.

  Griffin added, “With respect - the form you appear in front of me now is by your design? A higher design? I know you can also appear in blue light sparkles.” He made a gesture toward Gabriel's ghostly presence. “And there is this spectral form. Are the reference paintings of angels, wings and all, real? I mean - do you use that form? Do other angels? Or is it…” Griffin wanted to use the word 'bullshit', but caught it before he said it.

  “Shit,” Griffin thought in his mind. Thinking a word is as good as saying the word to Gabriel. Griffin would never get used to this form of communication.

  Gabriel saved Griffin from further self humiliation. “The Angelic form humans associate is a true form we use across all universes. However, it is used to awe, to strike fear, and sometimes intimidate. Mostly to gain attention.” Gabriel was thinking in that omni-directional sound his ears were unable to discern direction. Was Gabriel trying to find a better sound presentation or adapting to something Griffin could not sense?

  “That would gather a lot of attention in modern times,” Griffin said looking back at his task list, “Wait! Universes, plural?”

  “Best to concentrate on today's tasks. They are important and our time is scheduled and short.” Gabriel toned again.

  Griffin didn't know if he would get used to the multitude of combinations of sound generation and lack of or non-use of mouth movement, and-or thought-speak. He rose and placed his dishes in the dishwasher. He paused returning to the table, looking at his list. Gabriel continued to sit shimmering and translucent opposite Griffin.

  “Is there a priority or order to these tasks, Gabriel?” Griffin asked.

  “Money, transportation tickets, supplies for the trip. In that order.” Gabriel spoke omni-directionally.

  Griffin double checked his tasks in his mind. He was ready to leave.

  “Let’s go, Captain Sparkle Pants,” Griffin thought to Gabriel.

  Gabriel blinked out and Griffin felt re-energized. Omnipotence rang through him like a welcomed current.

  “Griffin, the need to physically cloak our work has passed.”

  “That doesn't sound good. What does that mean?”

  “Here forward, you life is about to become interesting,” Gabriel said. The mix of under tonal chimes was clear this time.

  “Is it time for me to say goodbye to all of this?” Griffin’s small gesture to his home was muted by his oncoming fear.

  “Don’t be afraid, Griffin,” Gabriel said. “Nothing will happen to you or Itishree. I am with you, and God is with us.”

  Griffin didn't reply as he made his way to the garage. His thoughts were on Itishree.

  “Wait! Universes?”

  The Coroner

  Joe brought Bob and Melissa with him to the coroner's office. Together they consumed all of the spare seating in the small room. Since exchanging morning pleasantries, none had said a word during the wait for the coroner. Bob and Melissa had arrived in a separate agency vehicle. Joe had brought his own car. They were here together because of Joe's new policy of sticking together. Bob and Melissa were with Joe due only to his new awareness safety policy. Joe would also use the policy to observe each of his eight technicians in pairs. Joe wasn't about to be caught off guard again. Especially with the lives of those assets working under him.

  Melissa was one of Joe's favorites. Not because she was an attractive female. Melissa had green eyes that were always thinking. Joe could see beyond the perfect posture, white teeth, and minimal makeup. Melissa had a sharp mind and t
he ability to focus her thought. Her pale complexion and marginally managed shoulder length brown hair gave Joe the impression she was in life for the long haul. No overexposure to sunlight, hair products, or harsh makeup. Melissa thought three-sixty, thinking on all aspects and contacts of life. Joe approved.

  Bob, though, wasn't as deep. His dress was less than thought threw. The slacks, shirt, and jacket all matched of course. But there was no tie and his shoes lent themselves to the possibility of running instead of detective work. Maybe Joe was thinking too harshly of Bob in the presence of Melissa? Bob's frame was larger than his and Bob carried more muscle. Bob could be more prone to action than thinking?

  “Bob, where are the rest of the technicians today and what are their assignments?” Joe asked. The question seemed like thunder in the absolute quiet of the office. Joe looked at Melissa to gauge her response. Upon Joe's gaze she straightened even more, popping her eyebrows up a notch and turning her head toward Bob.

  “Chris and Louis,” Bob began. Joe making the mental note of 'Turd Twins’. “Are in the operations room coordinating the visual surveillance of the subject of interest. Mark is parked on all of the subject's financial activities waiting for transactions. Jason is searching all agency databases for more information on the subject. Perry is in the field accompanying the tale and reporting back to Chris and Louis,” Turd Twins rang in Joe's mind again. “And we are here waiting for the coroner to give us a report on what killed agent Thomas Palocsik.”

  “Thank you Bob, I needed the mental reinforcement,” Joe said. He looked at Melissa again. She seemed ready for her test. Joe would have to think of something with more bite and consequence.

  Joe gave Bob's reply high marks. Maybe Bob would make a good agent after all. His wit coupled with his rugged good looks may serve him in the future. Joe's thought train was derailed when the door suddenly opened and a man with a stained lab coat entered. He made out the word 'County Coroner' below his name badge. Joe made introductions all around before the coroner had time to position himself behind his desk. Still standing Joe tore into the meat of the day.

  “What killed our man, Coroner?” Joe asked rather pointedly.

  The coroner peered above his glasses as he sat, flinging his lab coat tales from underneath him.

  “Heart Failure,” replied the coroner. “Simple heart failure.”

  “How does that happen to a twenty six year old male?” Joe asked still standing.

  “It doesn’t,” said the coroner. Joe had forgotten his name already.

  “Tom’s car had signs of residual scarring on the roof, akin to a lightning strike,” Joe began but the coroner's head shaking brought Joe's sentence to a halt.

  “The victim had no signs of electrical trauma. Lightning strikes have a distinctive effect on the human body. Very clear indicators. The victim's heart just stopped. His organ's and brain showed signs of oxygen loss, similar to a drowning victim. However, it seemed his organs, heart, and brain stopped at the same time. The victim didn't want his body any longer.” The coroner stated.

  That last bit creeped everyone out, even Joe Diclaro. Melissa made a face like she bit into a sour orange. Bob's rugged features crumpled in on themselves.

  “What will be on the official report, doc?” Joe asked. He stepping aside from his unoccupied chair.

  “Massive simultaneous organ failure of unknown origin,” the coroner recited evenly.

  “Thank you, doc,” Joe said. He turned, opening the door.

  Bob and Melissa gave the coroner respectful nods as they left the office. Following Joe to the parking lot, neither spoke. The somber mood was universal. As they reached their parked cars, Joe's cell rang a sharp klaxon tone. It was the operations room. Everyone stopped. Bob and Melissa two paces away from Joe. Bob removed hands from his pockets.

  “Yes?” Joe asked producing his keys with the other hand.

  “We have a very strange financial transaction from our P.O.I.,” replied Bryce referring to DeLuca as the Person Of Interest.

  “How strange?”

  “Very. As in withdrawal from an account within the Vatican, and without an end point,” replied Bryce.

  “You’re telling me you can't pinpoint an account the transaction was sent?” Joe asked a little bewildered.

  “No boss,” Bryce explained, “I can't. And there is more.”

  Joe looked at Bob and Melissa and barked, “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Can you pull any camera data from the P.O.I.'s end?”

  “We’ll have it for you when you arrive,” Bryce said.

  “Is the tale in place?”

  “Yes, Perry has been checking in every thirty minutes as ordered,” Bryce chirped back.

  “Good.” Joe ended the call.

  “Back to the nest kids,” Joe said.

  Electronic Voice

  At the corner of ninth and Liberty Avenue, Griffin stood in front of Citizen Bank’s sidewalk ATM machine. The sidewalks and streets were busy for having been beyond the nine am work milestone. He'd had to wait for two others to conclude their transactions and a seemingly homeless person have a long conversation with the machine. As he waited, Griffin looked down both directions of Liberty Avenue and around the corner of ninth street. He first noticed the dark green sedan as it passed the first time. It had re-appeared just before it parked east of where he waited for the ATM. Now Griffin found himself face to face with the machine wondering what to do next. The green sedan remained against the shoulder oblivious to traffic. Two men were visible through the windshield. The two stared unwaveringly at Griffin.

  Gabriel's voice sprang to life in his mind, "Use your debit card."

  "We're not going to get very far on my checking account," Griffin thought to him and Gabriel.

  "Balances will not matter," replied Gabriel. A few harmonics played beneath his thoughts.

  Griffin had his debit card out and swiped it into the machine. When the machine asked for a P.I.N. code Griffin began to plunk in his normal code. Gabriel stopped him.

  In Griffin's mind's eye he saw a long sequence of digits and began punching them in. The machine seemed to consider the code. A few moments later another blank field opened and Gabriel gave Griffin another set of numbers. Again the machine chewed on the data. Another moment and the machine prompted for a withdrawal amount. Griffin balked at the number Gabriel gave him but did as instructed. Two breaths later the machine began spitting out bills in varying denominations of twenties, fifties, and hundred dollar notes. Each time the machine stuck out a half inch stack of notes, Griffin could hear the machine counting more. Soon, Griffin had to begin stuffing cash in another pocket of his jeans. Then, another pocket.

  "You could have told me to bring a paper sack," Griffin complained.

  Gabriel said nothing in reply. And then the machine gave Griffin it's last stack.

  "Eight thousand dollars? We're going to need eight thousand dollars?" Griffin asked looking around to see who was going to mug them first.

  "Train station is next," Gabriel thought.

  For a moment Griffin couldn't recall where the train station was located. Then it came to him as if he'd been there many times. Griffin guessed Gabriel had placed or exposed the location and images for Griffin to access. He spun and began walking in the direction of the underground station.

  As soon as he seemed to be crossing ninth street the green sedan leapt from the curb and drove past. Griffin gawked like a tourist and saw the man in the passenger seat was young. Late twenties. The driver kept his eye on Griffin the entire pass while the younger man avoided eye contact.

  "Federal agents from your nation's local office," Gabriel thought to them both. His tone unconcerned.

  "We're being followed?" Griffin asked Gabriel.

  "Again, yes," Gabriel mentally replied.

  He turned to see the green sedan was far down Liberty having a difficult time trying to execute a U turn. The sedan had slowed considerably without being encumbered by traffic light or traffic. />
  Griffin picked up his pace heading east down Liberty Avenue. He needed to get off the street for ten minutes while the sedan circled the block trying to find him. It didn't take long for the opportunity to present itself. On his side of the street City Cafe was open and not crowded. Griffin stepped inside and ordered a almond milk latte. Griffin's favorite morning splurge.

  With coffee mug in hand Griffin found a table just outside the effect of sunlight trying to bleed off the narrow street through the cafe windows. You would have to be standing on the street and look directly at Griffin to pick him out of the shadow. Driving by, it would be impossible.

  When Griffin saw the green car drive by Gabriel extended his will and attached himself to the driver's mind. Griffin could witness Gabriel confuse the driver into thinking he was two blocks north of the street he had last saw Griffin. He walked to the cafe windows as the car passed by and saw it turn south and speed away.

  "Continue to the train station," Gabriel commanded.

  “How else can you influence the human mind?” He asked the Archangel. “That trick was slick.”

  “You will understand through experience, not through lecture,” Gabriel said.

  Griffin took three quick slurps of his delicious latte, dreading to throw so much of it away. Instead Griffin asked for a 'to go' cup and transferred the drink. They were out the door before Gabriel had a chance to complain. Griffin imaged Gabriel was enjoying the latte too.

  Two blocks later Griffin crossed Liberty at Grant and walked up the pedestrian walk across the station parking lot. Like most AmTrak major stations, the Pittsburgh terminal was not grand. A large ornamental sand colored building set a top the ugly chipped concrete columns and plain walls. The station appeared to be out of the 1980’s and was out of place among the more modern glass and steel towers. There was a small queue of people purchasing train tickets. Griffin fell into line. His pants pockets bulging from hard currency.