C10 Chapter Ten

Cade didn’t have the luxury of taking things slowly at this point. He needed a look at Father Martin’s body and he needed to do it now. The fact that it was being housed over at the morgue annex, rather than the primary facility at Boston City Hall was a definite plus. Foot traffic was much less at the Annex and he knew they should be able to get in and out without too much difficulty. More importantly, the chances of someone from his past recognizing him at the Annex were much lower than they would be at City Hall.

Cade waited five minutes after Burke left and then returned to the vehicle. A few minutes later Riley opened the passenger door and climbed in beside him.

“Well?” Cade asked.

“Went straight back to his car and drove off. I took down the tags but I don’t think there’s anything for us to worry about. He didn’t have a tail and I don’t see any evidence of a stakeout; the rest of the cars along the street are empty. There wasn’t any activity in the windows of the building overlooking the diner, either.”

“Good.” He’d thought Burke was on the up and up, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. Cade sat there in silence for a moment and then made up his mind. He needed a look at that body and there was no better time than the present.

“Get a hold of the other two and let them know we’re headed over to the morgue. We’ll meet up with them back at the hotel once we’re finished.”

“Roger that.”

While Riley was on the phone, Cade opened the storage compartment between the front seats. He pressed a hidden stud and then lifted the compartment out entirely, revealing another, shallower space beneath. He removed several leather identification cases from inside the hollow and flipped through them. Selecting two, he replaced the rest and then reseated the upper compartment.

He waited until Riley hung up and then handed over one of the sets of ID.

“Who are we this time?” asked the sergeant.

“NSA.”

“Works for me.”

Cade knew the average municipal employee wouldn’t ask too many questions of a representative of the National Security Agency, the arm of the US government responsible for the collection and analysis of foreign communications, and so it seemed like a good choice. Believed by some to be the world’s largest intelligence-gathering agency, the NSA was a branch of the Department of Defense and with that affiliation came a certain sense that the less one knew about its activities the better. Cade was counting on that reputation of secrecy to allow them to get in and out of the morgue without having to explain what they were doing there.

He knew he could have simply asked Burke for access to the body, but that would have resulted in a paper trail. Right now his meeting with Burke was off the books and Cade intended to keep things that way.

They made the short trip downtown and parked across the street from the Annex to avoid the cameras that Cade knew where set up around the government parking lot adjacent to the building. They showed their credentials to the guard just inside the front door and then took the elevator down to the basement where they let the morgue attendant know what they wanted.

The attendant led them over to the bank of steel drawers built into the far wall and pulled one of them open, exposing the black body bag that lay inside. He deftly slid the bag onto a portable table, wheeled the table over to one of the examinations stations, and then repeated the process in reverse. Once the bag was in place, the attendant unzipped the thick plastic, exposing the body of an elderly man. He checked the toe tag against the clipboard he carried and then removed a file from a nearby cabinet, handing it to Cade.

“That’s him,” he said, indicating the body, “and this is the autopsy report. Looking for something in particular?”

Cade took the clipboard, smiled at the attendant, and said, “Thanks. Now if you wouldn’t mind waiting in the hall?”

The attendant smiled back. “Sorry, no can do. Rules say I’ve got to be here.”

“Riley?”

“Yes, sir.” The big man stepped up, took the attendant by the arm and led him toward the door. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, speaking over the man’s protests, “but this is a matter of national security. You are going to have to wait in the hall until we’re finished.”

“National security? What the hell does the death of a priest have to do with national security?”

“Sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you that. Your government appreciates your assistance in this matter, however, and I’m sure that…”

Riley’s voice faded as he escorted the man out into the hallway. Moments later he stepped back inside the room and then shut and locked the door behind him. He took up a stance in front of it, just to be certain they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Satisfied, Cade turned back to the autopsy report in his hands. He leafed through it for a few moments, noting the time of death as having been between late last night and early this morning. The pieces seemed to fit together. He could see Martin making the drive to Connecticut, dropping off the package, and the returning early that morning only to find the intruder in the midst of the burglary. Surprised, the thief reacts without thinking and suddenly he’s got a murder rap to add to his breaking and entering and burglary charges.

Cause of death was listed as exsanguination, caused by multiple knife wounds to the chest. Father Martin had bled to death alone there in the early morning darkness, unable to call for help. Cade found himself hoping the old man hadn’t suffered too much, that his faith had allowed him to face death with the same bravery and determination with which he’d faced life.

The report noted that the wounds were caused by a common kitchen knife, that the weapon had been recovered at the scene, and that the nature of the wounds matched the size and shape of the blade. The knife itself had been sent to the lab for analysis, so Cade was not going to be able to examine it for himself.

But he had the next best thing.

Martin’s body.

He put the report down and turned to Riley. “M.E. puts his death sometime last night, early this morning, which means we’ve still got time to give this a shot.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

“All right. You know what to do if anything goes wrong.”

Knowing he was in good hands, Cade turned back to the body and took a few deep breaths, preparing himself mentally for what was to come, and then removed the thin cotton gloves that he habitually wore, the gloves that kept him functional and sane.

Seven years before, back when Cade worked for the Boston police department, he’d come face to face with a supernatural entity he’d come to know as the Adversary. That encounter had scarred his body and his soul, and had left him with a few unique abilities. One of those was psychometry.

Cade called it his Gift, though for years he had considered it more a curse than a benefit. Still, there was no denying its usefulness at times like this. By touching an object with his bare hands, Cade could read the psychic impressions that had been left on it by the last person to handle it. Thoughts and feelings poured out in his head as if he were actually experiencing them. They didn’t last long, a few seconds at most, and the impressions faded from the object over time so that after forty-eight hours or so he was unable to get anything worthwhile from them. But if he got to the object in time, he could learn a tremendous amount of useful information.

If he used his Gift on the deceased, he could “experience” their last moments just as they had. If Martin had gotten a glimpse of his attacker, Cade would see the same thing. In addition, he’d have access to whatever Martin was thinking at the time, allowing for an even greater understanding.

The technique wasn’t without its dangers, however, for Cade not only saw what the deceased had seen, but experienced it as well. If the priest had been scared, Cade would be scared. If the priest had been injured, Cade would feel his pain; his body would react as if he himself was experiencing it. Occasionally the wounds themselves would manifest on his body, which made every use of his Gift a potentially deadly one.

Riley would be his backup. If it looked like Cade was in trouble, he would break the connection by pulling Cade away from the body. That was usually enough to prevent further harm, though occasionally more forceful measures were required. Cade hoped today wouldn’t be one of those times.

With a final nod to Riley, Cade reached out and touched Father Martin’s face.

Darkness.

The sense of being followed, hunted, as he scrambled up a long incline, the rocks sharp against the flesh of his hands.

Have to warn them.

Have to warn them all before it's too late!

His breath came hard and heavy, his ankle hurt where he’d twisted it earlier, but he dared not stop. If he did, they’d kill him. There was no question in his mind.

A strange baying sound reached his ears and his heart leapt into his throat. It wouldn’t be long now; they’d released the hounds.

Darkness.

Inside the church.

The feel of the holy wafer on his tongue.

Figures moving in the darkness around him, holding his arms out to the sides, the altar steps hard against his knees, but he had eyes only for the crucifix on the wall above the altar before him.

Pain ripped through his body, but he did all he could to ignore it, focusing on the message he had to pass on.

The cross, Captain.

You must find the cross!

The image of a red, Templar cross swam before his eyes and he concentrated on it, fighting the pain, holding out as long as he could, the cross centered before him.

Someone moved to stand in front of him and a new, savage pain ripped through his body, forcing him to lose his concentration, his eyes focusing on the man standing before him, the blond haired man who leaned forward into the light so that he could get a good look at his face as he slammed the knife into his chest…

Riley hauled Cade away from the body of the priest, turning him away just as the other man vomited up a great gout of blood that splashed on the floor tiles at their feet as if it had been poured from a bucket high above their heads, blood from a wound that didn’t even exist. Cade coughed several more times, clearing his throat, spitting up the last of the blood that had filled his mouth in the same way that it had filled Martin’s, a result of the knife that had been driven into his chest by the man standing before him.

A man Cade recognized.

Bishop.

When he could speak, he told Riley everything that he had seen, including the identity of Martin’s killer. They had the confirmation they needed. Bishop was back and he was up to no good.

But Martin had left them a clue, a clue meant specifically for the Order, and if they could find it they might understand just what was going on.