“Homeland?” the man asked.
Arthur gave him one nod in affirmation.
“What do I call you?” Arthur asked.
“Mira Kessler.” He sat motionless, and uncaring..
Arthur produced a micro-thumb drive and set it upon the table. The drive sat in the middle of the table as neither man spoke or moved.
“Two traveling together, one male, one female and they are extremely dangerous. Both are linked to the manslaughter of twenty local police and three of my agents,” Arthur said flatly.
Mira Kessler took the micro-drive and pocketed it without examination.
“And you know where they are now?”
“No,” Arthur said flatly. “We will know more shortly. I will drop their location into a file share. The location, connection, and authentication of that share is on the micro-drive.”
Each man looked into the other's eyes for a long moment.
“Do you need anything else?” Arthur asked.
Mira Kessler shook his head slightly.
Arthur rose from the outdoor metal chair and turned his back on the assassin, heading for the car. As he reached the car, he wondered if turning his back to an accomplished hired killer was a good idea. He recalled only having to use such a resource once before. Then as now, he needed the situation to go away without being linked to the solution. Having a built-in drop for hired assistance was one of the beauties of the war on terror. When the coalition to fight terror was established, few knew each of the participating nations agreed to create a pool of their finest to be used by other sovereign countries. No local national could be hired in their host country. It was a perk of his level of responsibility. But, if anyone in the public sector had access to this knowledge and could prove the existence of the service, there would be heads rolling at many levels. Any government employee caught using the service in that investigation would be held in high example and likely imprisoned.
Arthur stood, car door open, watching Mire Kessler. The man had not taken his eyes off of Arthur, he saw. Holding his stare, Arthur slowly lowered himself into his car.
A Train of Thought
Griffin sat across from Itishree through the first two stops, Greensburg and Latrobe. His worry for her was mounting. Itishree had witnessed, albeit from a distance and in near darkness, Gabriel’s carnage on the streets of Pittsburgh. She had passed from sobbing to quiet denial in phases since they had boarded the train. She had sat mostly motionless for a hour. All Griffin could do was seek napkins and hand them over to Itishree in regular intervals.
The feeling of helplessness was the most emasculating emotion a fit man could experience. Especially witnessing emotional pain control someone you loved. Noticeably missing was Gabriel. He could feel the Archangel share his mind, watching Griffin’s empty attempt to comfort Itishree, and saying nothing. Griffin simmered from empathy to anger recognizing Gabriel’s lack of intervention. In fact, he became pissed.
“Captain Worthless Angel Pants. You want to help out?” Griffin thought to himself and Gabriel. There came a few angelic tones but no thoughts from Gabriel. Griffin took that as a ‘meh’.
“Itishree,” Griffin began softly. He leaned forward and placed his hands on her knees and looked down. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Itishree looked up and sniffed. “No. I don’t want to run what I saw through my mind again. I’m not ready for that.”
They both looked at each other. He was afraid she was about to wig the fuck out and have a mental break down. He looked around to gauge the other riders on the train car. There were few. Griffin resigned himself that if Itishree freaked he could do nothing but watch and hope Gabriel could teleport them or some other crazy stunt to keep Itishree safe while not drawing attention to themselves. Something must have given his thought away because Itishree melted a small amount holding his gaze.
“Look, darling, I believe in you. You’ve been through a lot of crazy stuff since you’ve met me.”
That brought out a small smile from Itishree. Griffin returned with a larger smile.
“Are you going to see this through to the end, Griffin? Can I truly count on you? I’ve heard stories abut you American men, you know.”
“From who, you’re cousin?” Griffin felt challenged.
Itishree crossed her arms and looked toward the window.
“We haven’t really talked about this, Itishree. I’ve walked away from my job, my home, all of my belongings. I can’t go back. I won’t go back.”
Itishree refocused her attention on Griffin and softened her expression. But, said nothing.
“She isn’t convinced,” Gabriel thought.
“Oh now you speak up!” Griffin thought.
“Shree, Gabriel can’t go forward without me. And, without you there is no reason for me or Gabriel being here. There are no substitutes, no bench to call on. We are it.”
“I’m committed Griffin, as crazy as all of this is, I’m committed.”
“Are you sure, babe?”
“Yes, yes, I am certain,” Itishree said. “Can you function with Mr. Angel inside your head, year after year?”
She leaned forward and took both of Griffin’s hands in hers. He was relieved to see Itishree animate and acting more normal by the second. She was quiet for a moment and looked at him with the most serious stare he had witnessed.
“Griffin, I like you. On top of all we’ve been through and what is coming next, I like you.”
Griffin not only saw the seriousness in her eyes, he heard it in her voice and could feel the world take on a sharpness. And then soft switch fell into place within him. He liked what was happening. Hell, he welcomed what Itishree was saying. He wanted this connection to Itishree to grow. He needed it. Somehow, he knew, this was what he wanted. Griffin felt his entire essence warm. His grip on Itishree’s hands firmed.
“I don’t want to lose you to Gabriel’s will. I don’t want to see you killed, too,” Itishree said. She looked down at their joined hands. “Will the Archangel’s ruthlessness bleed over to you? Will you become a monster within the monster?”
Griffin could felt her body betray a small quake as she worked to contain her emotions.
And there it was. Itishree’s reaction to what she saw on the highway was her imagining the same fate for Griffin or that Griffin would become a berserker too. It wasn’t the carnage. It was the fear of losing him that had shut her down. Losing him by thought or through the actions of Gabriel. With a rush Griffin could feel Gabriel take control of nearly all of his functions. He could feel his eyes swim from green to the freakish blue Itishree had described.
“Child. I have witnessed the violence of mankind and have taken measure of the advances in man’s ability to harm each other. There is nothing on this world that can threaten you or Griffin. The closer we move to your first sermon the more I see of the near future. There will be challenges both physical and mental. You and Griffin will struggle but I must ask you for that most elusive of human traits - faith.”
Griffin saw that Itishree had known it was Gabriel speaking through him now. She had released his hands, sat back, and recrossed her arms.
“Mr. Angel,” Itishree said. She had affixed an almost hateful glare. “If Griffin is harmed today, this year, this decade, or ever! I will stop what you have asked of me. Do you understand?”
Here she was, Itishree, in all of her one hundred eight pounds of fearsome glory, threatening the Archangel Gabriel. If Gabriel hadn’t held control of his physical form he would have hugged and kissed her. She was magnificent. He was so proud of her.
“No harm will come to you or Griffin,” Gabriel said. “Although, there will situations you may not believe my words.”
Itishree response was to narrow her fierce eyes suspiciously at him.
Gabriel made two mental requests from Griffin and he slipped control back to Griffin.
“Are you ready to learn what you’re going to say to the world?” Griffin asked. He was excited too.
“Bring on the Angel,” Itishree said. Her smile wasn’t full. However, the expression lifted Griffin. For the first time that miserable eventful day, joy filled his heart.
“Okay,” Griffin whispered. Straightening, he said, “Are you ready?”
Itishree unzipped an outer pocket of her backpack. She slid a new half-size spiral notebook onto her lap. A pen already jammed through the spirals.
“Yes,” she said with simple confidence.
Mira Kessler stood in the Johnstown Amtrak parking lot. A small heavy bag in his left hand. The unmarked sedan pulled away from the small lot and into the a town Mira could only think of as hick and dirty. The station was near a river, he saw that from the twin turbo prop before landing. Johnstown looked like any dirty river town. Even the airport was dirty. Mira imagined he could feel the slime penetrating his dark blue travel suit. The fabric unable to fend off the filth. Giving into his emotional weakness, Mira turned and walked into Amtrak terminal, purchased a ticket for Harrisburg and walked out to the platform. An ancient overhead led panel flashed the Pennsylvanian was on time and would arrive in eight minutes.
Mira retrieved his cell from his jacket breast pocket and reviewed the information again. The text app had a single conversation from an eight-eight-eight area code. There were no words in the text message. Six pictures, three of an American male, and three of an Indian woman. He studied the images again, one at a time. The man was tall, over six feet with plain no distinct features. The Indian woman small, attractive. In one picture she was smiling at the man. She cared for him. For a moment he felt a pang of regret. This woman was someone’s daughter. She had the pretty face anyone and everyone who met her would remember. Her smile was perfect, innocent, natural.
Killing beautiful people was always grievous to Mira. He immediately threw up a mental shield and rechecked his consciousness. Mira trained himself to capture emotional stabs, hold them in his mind and analyze their effect. The grief was observed and tossed away. He cleaned away his emotions, and unfocused his eyes. Moments passed to him. The train entering the station brought him back to the present. He straightened and placed his cell back into his jacket pocket, trading it for his ticket.
Itishree’s hand cramped. She had sixteen scribbled pages of what Gabriel had described as the most important text in the history of mankind. From the Angel’s declaration of the gravity of what she was undertaking her entire body had tensed. She had crossed another milestone ratcheting the tension. Her writing hand had gone down hill from there.
“You have what you need for your first sermon,” Gabriel spoke through Griffin. “You must study what you’ve written and rewrite it with your own words.”
Itishree looked out the train window as a distraction and to relieve her neck from the position it had held. They had come along a river and were pulling into another station. The platform placard read, ‘Johnstown’. She looked back at Griffin and saw his eyes switch blue for green. She smiled. Itishree felt better given something to do. She had always accepted what others had seen as ‘too much responsibility’ since she was a little girl. But Itishree had never felt overwhelmed. Now, she was forced to accept a role she didn’t fully understand much less own. She told herself this was just another task she could manage. Her process of returning to normalcy reinforced from will and desperation.
“Hi babe,” Griffin said returning her smile.
“Hey darling,” she said. Her smile increasing in intensity. “How was your Angel nap?”
Griffin chuckled. “I don’t get to sleep while Gabriel takes control. I’m a passenger. I hear, see, feel my thoughts, his thoughts. Come to think of it I feel many thoughts in and around me. If it not for Gabriel I know I would go insane trying to compartmentalize it all.” He made a screwed up face and looked down the aisle. Itishree leaned and turned following Griffin’s stare. A dark suited man, sans tie, had entered their train car. He nodded to them both and sat in the row of seats just inside the car’s furthest doors.
“We’ll need to keep down our voices,” Griffin said. They had moved to this car after boarding the train in Pittsburgh, hoping for privacy. Now, they would need to keep to themselves.
“Move to another seat. Give Itishree an hour alone. She needs to digest all she has written,” Gabriel thought to Griffin.
“I’m going to give you some room to study,” Griffin said. “Do you need anything?”
“Yes, a bottle of water and the privy would be nice.”
“I’ll find the food car, you can find the John yourself,”
They both rose, walked down the aisle towards the suited man. Itishree passed the last row of seats and opened the compartment door, but sensed Griffin had stopped. She stood in the door and saw Griffin pausing at last row. He turned and faced the suited man. Griffin’s face was fixed and stoic. Itishree saw the suited man flench and jerk his head toward Griffin.
Griffin said, “Excuse, I thought I recognized you.”
Itishree reached out and took Griffin’s arm, leading him through the compartment doors and into the next car. She turned her eyebrows opposite themselves. “What was that about? Is he here to harm us?”
“No, but I don’t like him,” Griffin said.
“What does Captain AngelPants say?”
“He isn’t saying anything.”
“You were being rude?” Itishree asked.
“Over reacting, maybe?” Griffin shrugged in self defense.
They headed off on their respective errands. Itishree badly needing to pee and Griffin to purchase two bottles of water. It was Itishree who made it back to their car and her seat first. She saw Griffin open the compartment car, at the opposite end, and step into their car. He gave the suited man a long look while allowing his hand to linger, closing the door. He walked down the aisle, a water bottle in each hand, a look of accomplishment plastered on his face. Itishree smiled and sat up ready to receive one of the bottles of water.
But Griffin stopped short of their seat row. His usual gimpy smile had vanished, replaced by a look of concern. Griffin’s eyes were looking straight ahead. At first Itishree thought Gabriel had taken control of Griffin but she saw his eyes were still green, Griffin’s green.
“Don’t move,” came a non-familiar whisper.
Then she saw a hand reach from behind Griffin and check his left pants pocket, then disappear. A moment later a hand checked Griffin’s right pants pocket. Then Itishree caught a glimpse of the suited man behind Griffin.
“Take off your backpack,” The stranger’s voice said. The voice had a gravel quality to it. The sound made Itishree’s hair stand on end.
Griffin did so, setting the backpack in a seat two rows from Itishree. As he did so, Griffin leaned to his right just enough for Itishree to see the suited man completely, from the waist up. He had a gun pointed at Griffin’s head. The barrel seemed long somehow, extended beyond what was normal in movies, or television.
“Sit down next to your girlfriend,” the gravelly voice said.
Griffin raised his hands at the elbows and walked the two rows. Itishree scooted over to the window seat and Griffin sat next to the aisle. Once he was seated he lowered his hands to his lap. The man remained standing in the aisle.
“Normally,” the suited man began speaking. Itishree heard an accent mixed in with the rough tone. She couldn’t place the accent. “I would kill you both and leave.”
The man walked closer to them both and leaned against the opposite seat, nonchalantly. To Itishree it was the stance of a shopper picking out the best loaf of bread. The man was uncaring.
“But, I have been given an agenda,” he said, looking around the car as if searching to construct his next sentence. “I was hired to ensure I would be here to deliver a message. I have been hired occasionally to give this speech but in all of those instances the circumstances have proven false.”
“What do you want?” Griffin asked.
“To get paid,” the man said. “But what I want is unimportant. Fi
rst the formalities. I am …”
“Mira Kessler” Griffin said. From the slow and deliberate enunciation, Itishree knew it was really Gabriel who spoke.
The man, Mira, nodded his head slowly and leaned into observe Griffin more closely.
“Maybe we are at this moment, after all. Do you know who sent me?” Mira asked Griffin.
“No,” Gabriel said.
“Interesting, indeed,” Mira said. He straightened, enjoying the irony that escaped Itishree. “A substantial bonus awaits me if this pans out.” Mira smiled but the gun in his hand never wavered from pointing at Griffin. The gunman leaned slightly closer to Griffin and said, “Cartaphilus. I was hired by your Department of Homeland Security but in reality Cartaphilus owns most of the guild’s contracts and filters us into government contracts in order to monitor if certain persons return.”
Griffin looked at Itishree with an inquisitive glare. Without Mira and his weapon Itishree would have laughed at Griffin because it was Gabriel who was dumbfounded. As she thought more on Gabriel, Itishree recalled the horror she had seen the Archangel perform this very day. She relaxed. And, Gabriel smiled back at her.
Mira watched the exchange and said nothing. Slight waves of the gun was the only objection Mira could muster. Itishree almost felt sorry for the man.
Mira continued, “Cartaphilus has watched for your return. You were out of reach during your time with Buddha. And Cartaphilus’ efforts were limited the three years you instructed Muhammad. But since the industrial revolution he has built the means to monitor and respond.”
Itishree glanced over to Griffin and saw his innocent confusion slip into a frown. The frown crashed into an expression of rage. She began to fear for her life then. Not from Mira but from Gabriel’s wrath. Griffin’s hand reached out and comforted Itishree with a small gesture. Itishree still wished she was in another state, far away from what was about to happen.
Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) Page 25
