SUMMATION

by Daniel Syverson

  Then the second person, the one in the lab coat, turned, and looked right at her, right through her, and she immediately recognized him. No question. None. She fell back against the door, steadying herself, as the vehicle squealed off.

  Heart pounding, knees of rubber, she walked back in, stepping carefully so as not to slip on icy patches, blood pounding in her ears, mist billowing at every exhale. She turned in the hall at the top of the stairway, gripping the rail tightly, and walked down the steps, one step, then another, each step slowing, dreading what she would find, but knowing that she couldn't possibly be right. She finally arrived at the bottom. She walked ahead the dozen feet or so to the door of the actual body storage room, and pushed it open.

  Tim was still on the floor, staring at her with blank eyes. Mike looked up at her, questioningly. She glanced left, and saw the drawer, empty, a pile of sheets and plastic on the floor beside it.

  There was no handle to hang onto on this door - it was meant to be pushed open by hand or gurney, so nothing slowed her as she slid slow down to the ground.

  * * *

  The room began to warm again.

  Chapter 14

  Questions at the morgue

  As soon as Hans closed the door, the charcoal colored Dodge Ram pulled away, turning quickly right, around the building, so anyone following would not be able to get a good description of the car. Right behind, a two-year old, unobtrusive minivan that no one would notice, followed closely behind. It provided masking from any following vehicle. If anyone followed, the minivan could unobtrusively slow the traffic, allowing Simon to get the Ram to safety. If necessary, Brother Gerhard would cause an accident or run into the following vehicle to stop any pursuit. None was expected, however, and none occurred. Besides, as far as anyone knew, including the police who were called to the morgue, no law was broken by a man getting up from a table and leaving of his own will.

  Gerhard Richter had counted on the confusion slowing any progress, and he was right. First, the responding units had to be convinced that this was not some practical joke by other officers, and that the coroner was serious. Then, the fact that the dispatcher had given the call over the air meant every local news agency knew of the story, and immediately had all their people on location, with vehicles, cameras, and reporters. Finally, the locals themselves, first those with scanners, then those they called, and finally, those that heard it on the news, were all arriving to see first-hand what was going on.

  In just a couple of hours, all this created a carnival like atmosphere downtown. The Chief of Police was out of town, so the Deputy Chief had to decide on what action to take, and what to tell the Mayor and the news agencies. What could he tell them? He didn't believe the story himself, and even if it was true, what was he supposed to do? Arrest a man for being alive? He couldn't afford to aggravate the local press. With the chief scheduled to retire in the next eighteen months, he knew whatever he did would go a long ways to determining if he would slide into that chair. The phone was ringing on his desk, both the private line, and the office line. He ignored both, picked up the other phone, punched a free line, and dialed an in-house number.

  "This is Sanders. Send the Shift Lieutenant up." Pause. "No, I don't want anything over the radio. God knows enough has gone out already. Have him meet me in my office." Then he buzzed his secretary. "Jenny, hold everything that's not involved with this mess. Try to delay the mayor - tell him I'm, well, I don't know. Tell him I'm taking a shit. Whatever. And bring in some coffee. Have the Lt. come right in when he gets here. In fact, call Lt. Anders and have him arrange to have about a dozen of the next shift come in early, including himself and the Sgt. Have them both up here as soon as they get here. You writing all this down? - Good. Oh, have the detective in charge of the case, who is it? Never mind, just have them come up, too. What a mess."

  * * *

  Gerhard Richter hung up, and leaned back in his seat. Not fifteen seconds later his phone began ringing again. This was in addition to the other one, still ringing, still unanswered. That one had been ringing since he entered the car. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

  They had continued north along Highway 2, avoiding the Interstate by cutting through the small towns of Rockton and South Beloit, before crossing the border back into Wisconsin. They continued following the Rock River, until the river began pulling further west. A few miles later, he rejoined the river, a little before Janesville. Little time had passed - only about forty minutes since walking out of the morgue. A few more miles, and they would be there.

  * * *

  A small group was sitting around a several small tables in the garage off the lower level of the morgue. The coroner sat at a card table with two detectives. Her office had been taken over by techs who were going through the security tapes. She was told one of the two men was handling the case, and the other was the Chief of Detectives. He introduced himself and the detective assigned to the case before sitting down. Unnecessary, and pretty silly, as she had known both men for years.

  Just a formality, but everything was going by the book. The Deputy Chief wanted this done, done quickly, and done quietly. He'd seen the TV stations setting up outside, and wanted this thing settled before he had to go on the air. The Deputy Chief had punted the case to him, as Chief of Detectives, not wanting to take any chances of screwing up his shot at Chief. This meant that if he handled it right, the Deputy Chief would claim credit, but if anything went wrong, guess who was to blame.

  Another table, a smaller one, also collapsible, came out of the Crime Scene van. The Crime Scene tech was filling out paperwork there, and filing the evidence as it was collected. Kind of like on CSI, but everything seemed to take a lot longer, and seemed a lot more boring.

  Both Mike and Sue stood against the far wall, waiting to repeat their part of the story, again, while Jenny waited in the lounge upstairs. An officer was upstairs at the door to make sure no one else came in, other than the other tech, who had come in to replace Tim, who was taken to Rockford Memorial Hospital for observation.

  "I don't know how else to put this, Detective. The man was dead. Not almost dead, not in a coma, but DEAD. Look at these photos. Look at them. Most of his organs are outside his body. The hips, spine, and rib cage are completely crushed, with bones coming out both front AND back. Both legs and hips are broken, dislocated, and crushed. He couldn't get up and walk out, alive or not!"

  "Just my point," responded the detective. "Just my point. So we're missing something here. Somehow, they got his body out, and must have had someone else walk out that just looked like him."

  "What about the camera? An identical twin walked out, with the dead man tucked under the lab coat? Come on." Nancy was referring to the security camera in the office. It clearly showed Mr. Richter walking out, followed by a second man. The picture got kind of fuzzy as the second man walked by in nothing but a lab coat, but clearly, no one else had gone in or out. And, just as clearly, nothing was carried out. Gerhard Richter walked in. Gerhard Richter walked out. Someone in a lab coat walked out. Nancy followed them out. Nancy walked back in. Then, nothing for several minutes, followed by two uniformed officers walking in.

  "Besides, do you really think Tim went catatonic because a dead man's twin sneaked in, and they tried to steal his brother's body?"

  The detective leaned back in his chair, tipping back on two legs. "We better come up with something, and fast. Questions are coming in a whole lot faster than answers. What all do we actually know, I mean KNOW, about this guy?"

  Detective Olson flipped back in his notes. "Well, we have the name, address, and some credit cards from his wallet. School ID from Madison, but the home information looks iffy. The guy is definitely connected. If this is correct, he's the son of the guy who runs some media conglomerate out of Germany. Rich guy. Very rich. The plate on his car comes back to some corporation, and we don't have anything on that yet, just a name, 'Richter Communications', with a Chicago address, but it looks like that's just another
subsidiary of this Richter guy. I've got a call in for more on that. No record on that name, no wants, no warrants. Nothing in Wisconsin, either, but they're still checking. Just a driver's license, tied to his student visa, clean. Supposed to call me later, but I'm not holding my breath. No apparent connection to any of the other victims. Listed on a student visa, consistent with the Madison info. Checking that now. State department just called back with info on next of kin, including father, Gerhard Richter. They're gonna send a photo. German embassy was notified last evening. Unknown when father contacted.

  "As far as the facility here, no signs of any forced entry down here. You can see how the door is locked. Security monitors show no entry through the ambulance entrance here, in fact, only entries since last night were from upstairs. We had two more bodies come in early this morning, after things got started, but they're being held separately, with one of our guys watching them and the rest of the area. Needed to keep the bodies cooled down, but we didn't want to contaminate the scene. I reviewed monitors for the previous twenty-four hours, and no one that looks anywhere close to that came in, so no one was hiding ahead of time. Of course, that still wouldn't account for where this Richter kid would have disappeared to.

  "We can't corroborate the temperature drop, but mist can be seen on monitors, possibly frost on metal railing, but the pictures aren't good for that. We're also running a background on the tech, just to be on the safe side, as well as the rest of the staff." He looked up, and glanced at the coroner and doctors, "Sorry, folks, no offense."

  Mike snorted, "No offense? Of course we're offended, but I guess we don't have any choice, do we. You know who we are. You seriously think we've got nothing better to do after a major wreck than try to set up some kind of publicity stunt?"

  Olson ignored the outburst. "One last thing- it was a longshot, but the doctor here and I went through each of the other bodies, just to make sure there were no switches. Everything else was OK."

  The chief detective stood up. "Well, I have no idea what's going on. But I'm sure as hell going to find out." He closed the little notebook he'd been jotting his note in, sticking it back in his jacket pocket. "Needless to say, don't say anything to anyone, and stay in touch, in case we have more questions, which I'm sure we will. If you can think of anything, and I do mean ANYTHING, no matter what, call one of us right away. I have to see the Chief now, and try to figure out what we're going to tell people."

  Mike suddenly had a thought. "Hey, detective, I just thought of something. The samples. We took some tissue samples from him and to send down to Atlanta."

  "What will they tell us?" asked the chief detective asked. Olson pulled out his notebook again.

  "I don't know if they'll tell us anything - they're just routine - drugs, alcohol, stuff like that, but there was something odd on X-Ray. Probably nothing, but I just wanted to let you know."

  "They still here?"

  "Yeah, but they're ready to send. We don't have the equipment to analyze them."

  "Maybe the State Crime Lab could. Maybe we should send them over there."

  "With all due respect," Mike replied, "Your lab is geared toward the criminal angle. Whatever happened here, it's way past our level. They need to go to Atlanta if we're gonna get anything."

  The Chief thought about that for a moment. "When will those come back?"

  "Some of the results, probably a couple days. Others, longer."

  The Detective nodded slowly. "Okay, go ahead. Just let me know when they come in." He turned to the other detective. "Keep on them, and see if we can get a priority on those test. Somehow, I think a couple of days may be too late for any useful information."

  * * *

  He was right.

  Chapter 15

  The Promise

  They had ridden for hours, stopping only to feed, water, and briefly rest the horses. The wound on her stomach burned, but it got no worse. After several meals, many water stops, and swallowing who knows how much trail dust (the scarf was worthless against the dry dust raised by the horses), she could still taste the blood-star mixture. Or maybe it was just in her mind. Did it matter which?

  She was exhausted. They had gone for two full nights, purchasing new mounts when the current ones could go no further. They had not slept during this time, other than the few moments stolen while feeding their mounts. Dawn was again approaching, and she knew she could go no further. They slowed to a walk, approaching a large country home with neatly trimmed hedges surrounding it. There was no sign of life. Unusual. People rose early, well before dawn to start. The estate was obviously well cared for, requiring a large staff. Where...

  She noted some motion along the hedge. Looking more closely, the hedge seemed to be moving, as if alive. Too long without sleep? Her escorts did not seem to notice, but her eyes were sharp, her attention suddenly focused. What magic was this?

  "Jonas!"

  "Jonas!"

  It was one of her escorts, the one that seemed to be in charge (although with no more than a dozen words exchanged between them since departure, she really had no idea).

  The hedge stopped moving, and nearly a dozen faces, wrapped with branches and painted darkly arose from behind, below, and within the hedge. As they stepped out, in front of the finely manicured decorations, she saw that each was well armed, with what appeared to be both swords and blades of the finest materials. Where was she? Who were they?

  Three men stepped forward, taking hold of the halters, guiding the horses toward the house. Another came forward to help her down. She slid, more like collapsed, from the saddle into someone's arms. She was carried into the house, and placed on a bed. She wanted to ask, but dropped off, and was asleep before the helping hands placed a blanket over her.

  * * *

  She awoke, not knowing where she was, what time it was, even what day it was. She looked down. She was wearing clean clothes. She noted clean bandages on both wrists and ankles. She raised her gown. The wound on her stomach had been cleaned. There was no redness, no infection. Just the very clear symbol, so visible on the outside, and on the inside, more. The pain was almost gone, though her stomach was still tender. When she ran her finger over around the almost healed wound, something felt funny. Different.

  Something was different.

  * * *

  It wasn't so much that something was different - it was that nothing would ever be the same.

  * * *

  She would always wonder who, and what, and certainly, why. Those, and many other questions. Most would never be answered.

  * * *

  After resting for another day, she was taken by wagon for another two days to the outer edges of her own kingdom, near the river that flowed downstream past a rocky knoll she remembered from years past, which left about two additional day's ride.

  Here she was released, and put upon the horse that had been tied behind the wagon. She was given two skins of water, and some meat and bread wrapped in rough cloth. The escort in charge finally spoke directly to her, looking straight into her eyes for the first time.

  "Tell no one. Show no one you wounds, especially your belly. Your seed shall be as the moon, ruling the night. But they must wait, and watch, and know their place, for their rule is temporary. They serve another."

  Before she could ask more of the cryptic warning, they turned and rode off with the wagon, leaving her to return home with much on her mind.

  * * *

  And she saw that her belly was never seen, by anyone. Not by her maidservants. Not by anyone in the royal family. Not even by her husband, to whom she only opened herself in the dark of night, under cover of blankets. Not even by the Royal Physician who delivered her first and only son.

  Chapter 16

  Becoming King

  Her son grew tall, strong, and intelligent; a worthy successor to the throne. He was comfortable with his power, and moved to ever increase it. His mother had been proud of his early successes, though she silently voiced concerns over his tendency t
o reach those successes with ruthless focus, and little concern for those around him.

  From early on, too, his mother kept his birthmark hidden. It was a source of fear to her- how to explain the tiny mark behind his ear that mirrored her belly. All those years she kept her own body hidden, and now, her son's. It was not until shortly before her own death, shortly before he ascended to the throne, that she took him aside.

  She shared no details, nor showed him her body, but told him only that there was a greater purpose, unknown to her, that he was meant for. His birthmark would be his destiny. Although she told him not of her sign, she made it clear to him that this was no ordinary birthmark - it set him aside. She told him of the warning and of the promise. She also made him swear an oath to never, ever show it, for it would put him at risk. Beyond that, she knew no more.

  He took this information quietly, absorbing it all, agreeing to the promise, and never discussing it. At first, he thought it might have been the ramblings of an old woman nearing the end, but the more he pondered it, the more he wondered. There was a strange intensity in her warning. She spoke clearly, without any doubt. She spoke as if it were fact.

  She had never led him astray growing up. He trusted her council. She was more than his mother, more than a queen merely sitting beside her husband. He knew that she had known far more, yet seldom spoke.

  He chose to follow her directions. No one ever saw his birthmark. He had always known he was meant for more, and only now, with his mother's late warning, did he have it confirmed.