The Sin Keeper

by Gary Winston Brown

  “You can stop now.”

  He settled back in his seat and pointed ahead. “Set a course for the Corona zone. Ahead warp factor one.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Hanover.”

  “My sodium’s been a little high, lately. Think you can help with that?”

  “Last warning…”

  CHAPTER 34

  UNSURE WHAT to make of the impossible act they had just witnessed, the officers rushed Egan.

  The Commander threw his arms open as the men attacked, sending them reeling across the factory floor in opposite directions from where he stood. Sergeant Brewer heard the commotion and turned around in time to witness his officers tumbling away from their prisoner. Having dispensed of his would-be assailants, Egan kicked the handcuffs aside and began walking towards Brewer and the gang. The Sergeant noticed the glowing band around his right wrist.

  Brewer stepped in front of the gang, drew his weapon and trained it on Egan. “Stop right there!” he yelled.

  Egan continued to advance.

  “Don’t make me shoot!” Brewer warned.

  “See? I told you!” Colin yelled. “Just like that! That thing on his wrist. That’s how he put us on the ceiling, man! The goddamn ceiling!”

  Brewer widened his stance and gripped the gun tightly. “Last warning, son… not one more step.”

  Egan raised his hand as Brewer fired. The peel of the gunshot repeated off the factory walls.

  Brewer watched the slug fall to the ground in front of Egan. He fired again, a third time, a fourth. Each of the slugs fell harmlessly to the factory floor.

  Egan walked up to the senior officer. The color had drained from the man’s face. His arms were locked straight in front of him, weapon held tight, his hands shaking. The Sergeant stared at Egan in disbelief. He had fired four rounds at the man at point blank range with absolutely no effect.

  “I’ll take that, Sergeant,” Egan said. He eased the gun out of his hands.

  Colin and the others stepped back. Their previous experience with Egan’s uncanny abilities had left them too afraid to consider challenging him for a second time.

  The old cop appeared to be in a state of shock. “It’s all right, Sergeant,” Egan said. “You can relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Sergeant Brewer heard Egan’s voice and nodded but seemed unable to process his words. He turned his head and stared at Egan.

  “You okay?” Egan asked.

  Brewer nodded slowly.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Egan said. “But I’m going to need you and your men to do me a favor.”

  Brewer nodded again. The look on his face was as though he had just learned that every impossible tale of science fiction that he had ever read about had suddenly just been proven to be true and were not stories born of the imagination after all, but science-fact.

  The officers Egan had dispatched to the opposite sides of the factory slowly regained their senses and shuffled to their feet. He watched them as they raised their weapons and prepared to fire. Opening his arms, he cast a protective shield of energy around the Sergeant, Colin, and his gang. The policemen kept firing until their clips were empty. Each round struck the invisible wall and fell harmlessly to the concrete floor. The officers stared first at Egan, then each other.

  “I warned you before,” Egan said, “you should have played nice.” He pointed his hand at the cops and opened his fingers. Channeler glowed. The weapons in the officer’s hands suddenly became red-hot. Egan maintained the intense energy level for a few seconds, then released the men. The cops screamed, then dropped their guns and held their burned hands tightly against their chest.

  Egan made a fist and lifted the two officers several feet off the ground. They flailed helplessly in the air before he dropped them, hard.

  “You,” Egan said, pointing to the cop who had been the instigator of his beating. “Dipshit number one. Handcuff yourself to dipshit number two. And lose the utility belts. Drop them on the floor. Radios, weapons, car keys, everything. You too, Sergeant.”

  The officers refused to follow Egan’s instructions.

  Egan raised his hand. Channeler started to glow. “You’re not really gonna make me ask twice, are you? No one could be that stupid. Then again, I am talking to you two.”

  Reluctantly the officers removed their belts and handcuffed themselves to each another.

  “Cuff keys too,” Egan said, “Throw them on the ground.”

  The Sergeant turned to Egan. There was fear was in his voice. “What are you going to do to us?”

  “To you, Sergeant?” Egan replied. “Absolutely nothing. You’re just doing your job. I know that. But you’re in my way. And that’s something I can’t allow.”

  “Who… what… are you, son?” Brewer asked.

  Egan put his hand on the veteran cop’s shoulder. “Sergeant, I’m afraid the answer to that question is way above your pay grade.”

  Egan turned to Colin Thackery and pointed in the direction of the kiln room. “Care to show them the way?”

  “You have got to be friggin’ kidding me,” Colin replied.

  “Do I sound like I’m kidding? Get moving.”

  The officers followed Colin and his gang into the wood drying room.

  Before closing the heavy kiln door, Egan spoke to Brewer. “Don’t worry, Sergeant. You and the dipshits will be fine. Someone will come for you shortly. Right now, there’s something very important I need to take care of.”

  Brewer crossed the threshold and stepped into the room. He had regained his composure and sense of command. He looked at Egan, spoke curtly. “Assault on police... threatening the life of an officer of the law...”

  “Still racking up those charges?” Egan said.

  “You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, son.”

  Egan stared at the policeman. “Actually, Sergeant, I’m inclined to think that just the opposite is true. Now, please step back.”

  He closed the door to the wood drying room for the second time and secured the latch. Inside, the men were quiet.

  Egan had to move fast. He was unsure if Sergeant Brewer had radioed for assistance while he was being dragged through the factory. He removed a police radio from one of the utility belts and clicked it on. Though unaware of the call signs of the units that had responded to the factory, he would be able to identify any chatter that sounded like it might have to do with calls relating to Brewer or his men. After removing the weapons and spare ammunition clips from the officer’s utility belts he placed his hand over the pile of equipment and gear lying at his feet, activated Channeler, and liquefied the items.

  Cal State University, Long Beach. That was the directive provided by Dr. Merrick in the neural interface transmission he received several minutes ago. The targets were there. He had to get to Long Beach as soon as possible.

  First, the stolen van that had brought such undue attention to him had to be disposed of. It was still parked outside the factory, blocked in by the responding police cars.

  Egan ran to the back of the factory and raised the drive-in door. Using Channeler, he levitated the van and the police cars off the ground. With the exception of one of the police units, he moved them inside the factory to receiving area, lowered the door, sealed it shut, and started the engine of the remaining police car parked outside the factory.

  Egan knew that a squad car being driven by a civilian might well draw suspicion. Another police officer, not recognizing the driver, might pull him over and demand he identify himself. Egan opened the trunk of the unit and found what he was looking for. He removed the magnetic NOT IN SERVICE signs from the trunk and affixed them to the door panels, trunk and roof of the unit. Driving the car now wearing non-police attire shouldn’t ring any alarms. He would be seen as a car jockey - a police mechanic, perhaps - transporting the vehicle to the service yard for repair.

  Still, it wouldn’t be long before dispatch realized they were unable to raise a radio response from not just o
ne but three of their units. They would suspect the officers had encountered trouble at the factory. Additional units would be dispatched to the location, followed by an all-out search for the missing officers. Egan couldn’t risk another encounter, especially if police agencies from neighboring jurisdictions were called in to help locate the missing units. He would have to get rid of the police car at the earliest possible opportunity and acquire a less conspicuous mode of transportation.

  At the main road leading into the abandoned factory complex, Egan stopped for an ambulance as it screamed past, lights flashing and siren blaring, then raced after it. He stayed on the vehicles bumper as it tore through one intersection after the next, down a series of side streets, and arrived at its final destination: the Emergency entrance at Mercy Grace Hospital.

  Egan parked on the street outside the hospital. The road ahead was divided. Straight ahead was the route the ambulance had taken. A sign on his left read, RESTRICTED PARKING - HOSPITAL STAFF AND AUTHORIZED VEHICLES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

  A motorcycle whizzed past and zipped into the Restricted Parking area. The rider raced the engine before backing into his designated space.

  Egan had an idea. He stepped out of the car, removed the NOT IN SERVICE signs from the vehicle, and returned them to the trunk. He cruised up the roadway into the Restricted Parking area and watched the motorcyclist as he removed his helmet and locked his bike. The sign on his parking spot read DR. BRIAN HARVEY, M.D.

  Egan backed the squad car into a space between another police cruiser and a vintage Aston Martin. Dr. Harvey rummaged through his backpack and pulled out his hospital ID, clipped it to his belt, then strolled up the walkway and entered the building through the doors marked STAFF ONLY.

  Egan walked over to Dr. Harvey’s motorcycle and placed his hand over the ignition switch of the Kawasaki Ninja crotch rocket. The engine came to life and thrummed impatiently. Egan slipped on the safety helmet, straddled the bike, eased it out of its parking space, then shifted it into gear and cruised out of the parking lot.

  The young doctor would be on call for at least the next eight hours, probably twelve. In the meantime, he would never know that his motorcycle had been stolen.

  The last place anyone would expect to find the missing police car would be in the reserved parking area of Mercy General Hospital, sitting right beside the other emergency vehicles.

  Egan hit the main road and gunned the bike.

  He was free of the factory.

  Free of the police.

  Free.

  Cal State University awaited.

  So too did his targets.

  CHAPTER 35

  THE UNMARKED sedans slowed as they approached the main entrance to the Corona Mews Shopping Centre. The occupants flashed Deputy Poole their ID: FBI and military. He spoke into his radio as he waved them through. “We got visitors, Chief.”

  Jenkins responded. “Copy that, Jack.”

  Ann Ridgeway waited as Jordan, Chris and Colonel Hallier pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the privacy barrier. They stepped out of their cars. Ridgeway introduced Jordan and Chris to Colonel Hallier. Together they walked through the alcove of the privacy blind and into the active crime scene.

  ADC Ridgeway called out. “Chief Jenkins?”

  Jenkins walked to the group. “Agent Ridgeway, I presume? Sorry we couldn’t be meeting under better circumstances.”

  “I agree,” Ridgeway replied. “These are my colleagues, Special Agents Jordan Quest and Chris Hallier, and Colonel Quentin Hallier with the Department of Defense.”

  “DARPA, specifically,” Hallier said.

  “You’re just the man I want to talk to, Colonel,” Chief Jenkins said.

  “How’s that?” Hallier replied.

  “You mind telling me what’s going on at Dynamic Life Sciences? I was told you’d shut the place down.”

  Hallier came straight to the point. “Sorry, Chief. DLS isn’t open for discussion. And, quite frankly, I don’t have the time or the patience to play politics with you right now. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to hand over all the evidence your people have collected to these agents who are operating under my authority. This crime scene is now the jurisdiction of the Department of Defense. From this moment on neither you nor any member of your department is permitted to discuss any element of this case under penalty of violating the Defense Secrets Act. Do you understand, Chief Jenkins?”

  “I’ll tell you what I understand, Colonel,” Jenkins replied. “That’s not going to happen. This is my town, and I’ve got a situation here that poses a threat to very people who pay me to keep them safe. If you think that I’m just going to let you waltz in here and tell my department to stand down…”

  “Yes, Chief,” Hallier interrupted. “That’s precisely what you’re going to do.”

  “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

  While the two men argued, Assistant Director Ridgeway motioned to Jordan. They stepped away from the group. She spoke quietly.

  “Take a look around. Tell me what you find.”

  Jordan nodded. She turned to Chris. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Jenkins raised his hand to the two agents. “You two can stop right there. No one goes anywhere until I get some answers.”

  “Go ahead, Agents,” Hallier said. “Chief Jenkins and I will sort this out.”

  Jordan and Chris walked around the numbered evidence location markers. One of Jenkins officers was busy photographing the scene from different angles.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Chris said. “Go do your thing.”

  Hanover identified himself to the officer and began questioning him about the day’s events.

  Jordan walked to the Dumpster and ran her fingers along its chipped surface.

  Two men… one older… the other much younger… anger mixed with calm… immense energy. Jordan felt her body begin to tremble. Her body had come alive. Massive extremes of expansion and contraction, alternating one second to the next… as if the molecular bonds that held her body together no longer complied with the immutable laws of science. The sensation was as if every nerve ending had suddenly short-circuited, the life-maintaining synapse-to-synapse electrical conduction made impossible. Death followed darkness...

  Drawn by a pungent smell not coming from inside the container, Jordan drew her hand away from the garbage bin. A large tarp, surrounded by numbered yellow tent markers, covered an area of the crime scene. Jordan knelt down and placed her hand above it. The area smelled like rotting flesh. Her gift revealed that human remains had been rolled up into a section of carpet and thrown into the bin. The evidence under the tarp offered the same psychic reading as that from within the Dumpster. The victim had been transferred from there to here. The latent energy signature was male.

  The reading, however, was confusing. Several energy forces fought for dominance over her psychic senses. The victim’s signature was clear. But two additional signatures were also present and appeared to be layered, one atop the another. But this was impossible. Dead or alive, two energy signatures could not occupy the same body at the same time. However, this was the world-between-worlds where the laws of man did not apply. Jordan concentrated harder and drew a weak match to one of the two signatures. The sensation was close but not identical to the energy signature of the killer which she had felt in the Rosenfeld’s bedroom. Similar, but not the same. Whoever murdered this victim shared a profound energetic connection to the Rosenfeld’s killer. Jordan toyed with the hypothesis that there might be two killers, twins perhaps, identical or fraternal, then quickly dismissed that theory. She had assisted the police with cases involving twin serial killers in the past. She knew what genetically-shared psychic signatures felt like. That was not the case here.

  The Assistant Director called out and motioned for her and Chris to join her as Chief Jenkins stepped outside the barrier. Chris thanked the officer for his time and joined his partner.

  “Anything?” Ridgeway asked.
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br />   “I felt the presence of the Rosenfeld’s killer here,” Jordan said. “But he didn’t kill Chief Jenkins victim. Someone else did. The energy signature of Jenkins UNSUB is very close, but not the same. There’s a connection between them but I don’t know what it is.”

  Chris added. “Also, the manner of death is entirely different. Our guy shot the Rosenfeld’s - very precise, very professional. Plus, he made a big deal about setting up the crime scene, from leaving flowers everywhere to concealing a flash drive in Rosenfeld’s mouth.” He pointed to the officer standing behind him. Ridgeway watched the man lift a corner of the tarp and examine the ground beneath it. “That cop says the remains of their guy looked like it’d been put through a juicer. All that was left were bits and pieces.”

  Jordan, Chris, and Ridgeway exited the crime scene and walked into the parking lot. Jenkins and Hallier stood beside the black Porsche. They continued to argue.

  “Looks like Jenkins isn’t taking the news about having to hand over his investigation to the Department of Defense very well,” Ridgeway said. “I’ll inform Colonel Hallier about what you read at the scene. This is his show now. There are unusual circumstances surrounding this case that you’ll both need to be brought up to speed on. But they’re matters of national security, and that information has to come from Colonel Hallier, not me.”

  “Understood, ma’am,” Jordan said.

  “Good.”

  Ridgeway looked at the two men. The confrontation between Chief Jenkins and Colonel Hallier was getting heated. “Someone needs to send those two to their respective corners before we end up with another homicide on our hands. Better give me a minute.”

  Chief Jenkins was irate. He walked away from the Colonel, stormed past Jordan, Chris, and Ridgeway, said nothing, barked something into his radio about ‘standing down until scientists from the Department of Defense arrive’ and marched around the barrier into the crime scene.