C8 Chapter Eight
Nagged by his inability to understand whatever it was Father Martin expected him to learn from the photograph, Cade left the manor house behind, crossed the commandery grounds on foot, and entered the science building. Photo reconnaissance was on the second floor and upon arriving, Cade asked to speak to Jarvis.
Though only twenty-five, Jarvis’ skills were miles above the other members of the unit and Cade preferred the use of his services whenever possible. He explained the situation to the photo tech and asked if Jarvis could sharpen up the picture enough for them to recognize the individuals in the photo.
“Bloody piece of cake, chap,” Jarvis said, beaming. “When did ya want it?”
“Yesterday.”
“Got ten minutes?”
Cade glanced at his watch and then nodded. “But not much more than that.”
Jarvis led him over to a computer workstation where he fed the photo into a nearby scanner. Once the picture had been digitized, he went to work.
“Every photograph is composed of millions of little dots, known as pixels. The computer analyzes the entire image and then begins to work on it one pixel at a time. Using a complex series of algorithms, it attempts to identify the most likely arrangement for each individual pixel based on the hundreds that surround it. By doing so, we can gradually clean up the image, correcting the focus, the color, even the perspective if necessary.”
There were eleven individuals in all, six women and five men, and as Cade watched, their faces slowly began to grow clearer. One by one he eliminated all of the women and four of the men, either because he didn’t recognize them or because there was no reason to consider them a threat.
The fifth, and final, man was a different story.
The man stood with his face partially turned to the camera, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Judging from the other people around him, he was tall and well-built, with dirty blonde hair that came down just past the collar of the coat he wore.
Seeing his face, Cade understood exactly what Father Martin had been trying to tell him.
The man in the photograph was his old teammate, Bishop.
The others were ready and waiting when Cade arrived at the motor pool fifteen minutes later. He explained what he’d done and then passed a copy of the enhanced image to each of them.
“Sweet Mary and Joseph!” Riley exclaimed upon seeing Bishop.
Flynn let out a low whistle of his own. “That throws a wrench into the works now, doesn’t it?”
He was right; Bishop’s presence in Boston changed things considerably. Cade was already thinking of the mission as a rescue operation now, rather than a fact-finding mission. Father Martin had been involved in the ill-fated operation from several years ago. He’d met Bishop when the Templar advance man had first arrived in the city and knew what had later happened to him at the hands of the Chiang Shih. He’d recognized that Bishop’s presence outside his church did not bode well for the congregation, or for Martin himself, and might even signal the return of the Shadows to the city proper.
It also explained why Martin had sent a note to Cade rather than bringing in the usual authorities. The police could do little against one of the Shadows. Bringing in the local authorities would only end with innocent people dead. Rather than doing that, Martin reached out to those who’d saved him once before; the secret, militant arm of the Mother Church.
Cade felt a growing sense of urgency settle over him.
They climbed into the SUV assigned to them and got underway. Riley drove, with Cade riding shotgun and Flynn and Riley in the backseat. The rear of the truck was packed with a variety of gear bags, and hidden in the secret compartment beneath them was the team’s firearms.
They made good time, straight up 95 into the suburbs of the city, where they switched over to Route 93 that took them into the city. Once there, they got off the highway and cruised into the streets of South Boston.
A predominantly Irish, blue collar neighborhood, South Boston was as well known for its St. Patrick’s Day celebrations as it was for its high crime rate. The Irish mob had ruled the streets for so long that even when their leadership crumbled in the face of multiple FBI investigations in the mid-90s very little had changed for the people on the streets. Life went on, just as it always had, and eventually someone else stepped up and to take the reigns of power, just as they always did and always would.
Cade had patrolled the area as a young beat cop. This was when he’d first come to know Father Martin. Cade had answered more than his share of operation calls in the neighborhood during his time on the Special Tactics and Operations team, or STOP. He’d been back once or twice during his years with the Order, but little ever changed in Southie and it felt like only yesterday that he’d left.
As they neared the church, they could see a squad car parked in the driveway of the rectory.
“Keep going past the church and park farther down the street,” Cade said and Riley obeyed. As they drove past Cade could see a uniformed officer sitting in the front seat of the squad car and the telltale yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front door of the rectory confirmed his worst suspicions.
It appeared they were too late.
Riley found an open spot a few blocks away, pulled in and turned the engine off.
“Now what?” he asked.
Cade gave it some thought. Having the four of them suddenly appear on the rectory doorstep was a bad idea, particularly if something untoward had happened to Father Martin. Cade decided to take Duncan and walk back past the church to see if they could get the uniform to tell them anything useful.
The two of them got out of the car, turning their collars up against the chill breeze, and headed off in the direction of the church. They hadn’t gone half a block before Cade caught sight of a foursome moving down the street toward them, three men and a woman, and he pointed them out to Duncan. The men were dressed in the black pants and shirts of the clergy and the woman wore the deep blue habit of a Catholic nun.
“Let’s see if we can get a bit of information,” he said.
As they got closer, Cade stepped out and raised his hand in greeting. “Excuse me? Father?”
“Yes?” As he responded to Cade, the older of the two men stepped out in front of the other three, as if getting ready to protect them, and Cade noted how all four immediately tensed at his approach. Easy or you’ll spook them, he thought.
“I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for Father Martin. Can you tell me if he’s still assigned to this parish?”
The nun, a young woman who couldn’t have been older than her mid-twenties, raised a hand to cover her mouth and Cade felt the level of tension among the group go up dramatically.
The priest’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Cade. “And what would you be wanting with Father Martin?” he asked, the hint of an accent creeping into his voice as a result of the stress.
Cade tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “It’s been a few years, but Father Tom officiated at my wedding. I was back in town on business and thought I’d stop by and say hello.” Cade pointed back up the street. “But the police car in the driveway made me think this might not be the best time to drop in for a visit. Has something happened?”
The group relaxed and the senior priest finally extended a hand. “I’m Father O”Malley, son, from St. Judes, a few streets over.”
“Jake Caruso,” Cade said, without hesitation, and then introduced Duncan as his friend, Michael Simpson.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, Jake. Father Tom passed away last night.”
Cade did his best to look shocked, all the while inwardly cursing this confirmation of his suspicions. “What happened?”
The younger of the three men spoke up. “Some street punk broke in and…”
O’Malley held up a hand, silencing the other. “Watch your tongue, Phillip. What will Sister Margaret think of such language?”
“Sister Margaret happens to agree with him,” the young nun answered, much to both Cade and Duncan’s surprise. “And I know you do, too. So tell the man what he needs to know and let’s all get out of this cold.”
O’Malley sighed, and Cade could hear the unspoken apology in the expression. The man was clearly old school and he apparently felt Cade was cut from the same cloth.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Father Tom was killed last night during a burglary. Police say he must have surprised the intruder in the midst of the crime and the man panicked, resulting in Father Tom’s death.
The younger priest cut in again. “He stabbed him with a butcher knife eight times and then left him to bleed to death on the kitchen floor. I hope he rots in hell.” His voice cracked and Cade saw the suggestion of tears in his eyes before the man turned away. Sister Margaret put her arms around him and talked to him in a voice too low for Cade to hear.
“Do the police have any idea who did it?” Cade asked.
O’Malley shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m confident that Detective Burke will find the culprit before long.”
“Detective Joseph Burke?”
O’Malley seemed surprised. “Yes, that’s the one. Do you know him?”
“Another old friend from the neighborhood. I guess we never really stray far from our roots, do we, Father?”
The priest nodded. “That’s true, Mr. Caruso, very true.”
They spent a few more minutes talking and then Cade thanked them for their time and let them continue on their way. He waited until they had moved out of sight before walking back to the truck with Duncan and letting the others know what they’d discovered.
“So you know this guy, Burke?” Riley asked.
Cade nodded. “He worked Bunko when I was with Homicide. We did a few task forces together. Decent guy overall. Takes the job a bit too lightly for my taste, but he was never a bad cop.”
Flynn spoke up from the back seat. “Think he’ll help us?”
“Only one way to find out,” Cade replied.
He took out his cell phone and dialed a number.
“Detective Burke, please,” he said to the woman who answered.
