The Silent Inquisition
(Chapter2)

Midday, August 31^st
San Francisco, California…

         “Even though I’m Welsh,” Karla said with a laugh, “You can’t deny that Joan of Arc was a badass.  She took a blow to the helmet from a stone cannonball while climbing a ladder.  I’m telling you, I’ll bet you cash that she was a supernatural; she just didn’t know it about herself.  She had prophecies, battle skills, and survived several battles only to win the day at the age of nineteen.  There are accounts of her walking away from things that should have killed her, like the cannonball to the head.  That’s a documented fact.”  Karla glanced back at an old man with a newspaper and said, “Nathan, are you even listening?” 

         The old man tilted the top of his newspaper down with his left and right index.  “Huh?  Yeah, Karla.  Maybe that’s why the English burned her as a heretic.  They realized they couldn’t hurt her while torturing her.  Look, I’m serious when I say that I think supernaturals are being targeted.  I haven’t heard anything from the so-called leaders of the so-called ‘Esoteric Sects.’  What about that guy you saved?” 

         “Donovan?”  Karla slid off of her sofa, stood up and stretched.  She put her tablet down on the coffee table and reached for a brush.  “I’ve had enough of Tumblr for one day.  Anyhow, Donovan is lying low.  Have you ever met him?”

         “No.  But, uh, I’ve heard of him before.”  Nathanial’s eyes lowered back to the newspaper.  “The police are saying it’s a small group of arsonists.  But still… fifteen fires all in the same night this week.  We need to look into this.  You’ve seen an Inquisition first hand, right?  I’m telling you right now, this Aris Falcon guy you mentioned… he’s the heart of this.  We need to take this seriously, Karla.  I wouldn’t mind having this guy, Donovan Loupe, on our side.” 

         “I’ll see what I can do,” she said.  “Do you have any friends you can call?” 

         Nathan nodded.  A wan smile tugged at his aged face.  “I know a girl who will help.  Her name is Sinopa Crevan.  I just have to find her and, unfortunately, I think she lives in Japan.”  Nathanial folded the newspaper up and put it onto the dining room table.  “We should take the fight to Falcon and we’re going to need help.  Do you still talk to Jon Parker?” 

         “Not for a long time,” said Karla.  “Why?”

         “It’s hard to explain but trust me – he’ll know what’s going on, here.”  Nathanial lifted his hand and held his fingers up to keep Karla quiet then he reached, with his other hand, and turned up the volume on a police radio scanner.  “I’ll be damned.” 

         Karla moved towards the dining room and tilted her head.  “I missed what it was saying.  Recap, old man.” 

         “Someone called the police, saying there were men in black military gear, armed and dangerous, who converged on a middle aged male and shot him to death.  Then they were witnessed burning the body right in public at the park.” 

         Karla tapped a manicured fingernail against his chin.  “You know, I could go down to the Chronicle and talk to my friend there.  If anyone knows anything, it’ll be him.  The more we know about what’s going on, they better we can figure out what to do.” 

         Nathan nodded in agreement.  “I normally tell you to stay out of trouble but… this time, you have my permission to look for it.  I have a feeling this is somehow related to the museum thefts that have been happening all over Europe.”

         The succubus balked.  “Say what?  Why would you think a couple of attacks against people would have anything to do with the disappearances of various artifacts on the other side of the world?” 

         “Call it a hunch.  Just trust me on this.  Do you remember when I told you we had to leave San Francisco back in 1989?” 

         Karla nodded, eyeing the elderly man.  “Yeah, you started packing during the second game of the World Series.  I never figured out how you knew that was going to happen.  You’re a mysterious old man, Nathan.” 

         “You have no idea,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.  “Go talk to your contact.  I’m going to run a few errands of my own.”

         “No offense but are you in any shape to fight?  I mean, you know, just incase you’re right about this Falcon character starting a silent inquisition against supernatural beings?”

         “Sweetheart,” said Nathanial, “I might be in the triple digits, but I can handle myself.  I’m willing to wager I have a little more time left in these old bones.  Now get your butt downtown and talk to your people.  We need to see if those thefts and these attacks really are related.” 

         Karla reached a hand up and sifted her fingers through the old man’s short gray crew cut.  “You’ve treated me with respect all the way back to when I met you in 1906.  And what a sharp looking young man you were back then.” 

         Nathan grinned.  “That’s because I learned fashion from Nikola Tesla.  The man was crazy and you couldn’t argue with him about atoms, electrons or the curvature of space.  He was underweight and overly critical of people who weren’t as thin as himself… but the man knew two things.  Electricity and how to look dapper.” 

A Cheshire smile spread across the demoness’ pink-painted lips.  “I liked that he believed women would become the superior sex in the future.  Too bad it hasn’t happened yet.  But we’re getting there.” 

         Nathanial smirked.  “He came to that conclusion after meeting you, Karla.  You’re a pretty strong-minded woman.  Then he started buying into the whole ‘eugenics’ thing after seeing your abilities.” 

         “Not to mention your abilities,” she said with a shrug.  “Control over electricity was kind of a big deal to that man.  Plus, after seeing you throw lightning, he wanted to build a weapon to emulate it.”  Karla grinned.  “Remember that?  The ‘Peace Ray to end all wars.’ Heh.”

         “Which never happened, despite pop culture.  Amusing how people became obsessed with the fact that the Office of Alien Property scooped up his belongings, as if they were hiding something secret for the Government.  Turns out it was all a bunch of bullshit.” 

         Karla ruffled Nathanial’s hair again.  “After eighty years, this is the first time I’ve heard you admit just how much you miss your friend.”

Nathan shook his head and sighed.  “He was certainly the most OCD and ornery fifty year old hermit I’d ever met back in 1906 – you’re right, I miss him.  All right.  Call me this evening and we’ll compare notes.  Remember not to get yourself killed.  Like I’ve told you in the past, you’re important to the future.”  Carrington’s body materialized into a brilliant white light then shifted into a bolt of electricity.  The pillar of energy zapped into the window, teleporting himself outside of Karla’s apartment. 

         A slight brownish burn mark appeared on the glass, illuminated by the afternoon sunlight.  Karla smiled inwardly.  “At least I teleport more gracefully than you, old man.”  She ran her fingers back through her canary locks, shoving them into waves, then disappeared without a trace. 

X

X

Half an hour before sunset 
San Francisco, California…

With a sigh of relief and content, Karla slumped back against the shelving and rested her canary-kissed head against a stack of laser jet paper.  “God I needed that.”  She cut her gaze to Jim, a journalist from the San Francisco Chronicle.  Karla eased her legs from his waist, still halfway pinned up against the corner wall in the supply closet.  “You okay?”

Jim nodded then eased her down to her feet and reached for his pants around his ankles.  “Tired.  You always seem to have that effect on me.”

“You can always sleep it off at your desk,” Karla said with a grin.  “In all seriousness, though, you should stop having these trysts with me and work things out with your wife.”  She eased a hand down, beneath her skirt and guided the fabric of her panties back into place.  “Not that I don’t enjoy these moments with you.  I’m just sayin’.  So… What do you know about these reports of men in black uniforms attacking people?  Do you think it’s related to the arsonist story?”

The average built journalist reached for his glasses on an adjacent shelf and pushed them up the bridge of his nose.  “I, uh, I’m hearing conflicting stories, Karla.  Someone told me, today, that they heard these attackers are going after specific groups of people.  It could be a religious thing, or a gang war thing.  But the victims come from all walks of life.  Some are rich, some are dirt poor; the FBI won’t talk about it, though.” 

         The succubus reached her pink-lacquered nails up and ran her fingertips through his short brown hair.  “That’s the feds for you.  They don’t talk about their investigation unless you have a buddy on the inside that wants to stay anonymous.” 

         “That’s just it,” said the journalist with a sheepish half-smile.  “They claim this stuff isn’t even happening.  They said it was a closed investigation involving falsified information, started by people who just wanted to get attention.  I tried to push for more information.  They suggested that I write an article claiming the whole thing was just a hoax.” 

         Karla blinked twice.  “Say what?  It’s pretty hard to fake a burning building and charred remains and M.E. reports.” 

         “Those reports are missing.  There’s no longer any proof of charred remains – just a few fires around town.  Fifteen to be exact.  Why are you so interested in this?” 

         “Because I saw,” Karla trailed off then reached for her purse and shouldered the handbag.  “I saw bodies being pulled out of a fire.  Some people had fancy cashmere melted to their skin.  Some people had tattered jeans and metal band t-shirts – I saw it.  But I didn’t see anything about it in the paper.  I just wanted to know what was going on.” 

         “Karla…” Jim frowned and began buttoning his white dress shirt.  “I was ordered to stop working on that story.  Today, when I got to work, my draft article was deleted off the main server.  The backup copy was taken out of the cloud server.  All I have left is a few notes I penciled down and I was ordered to surrender them two hours ago.  When a cover up happens, it’s best you step aside.  You should just let it go.”  He paused then buckled his belt and, quietly, asked, “Did you know one of those people or something?”

“You, uh…” She glanced to the left with a sigh then fished a hairbrush out of her handbag.  “You might say that.  I don’t want to get you fired.  It’s bad enough I’m your home-wrecker.  I promise I’ll drop it, okay? I just wanted to ask because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t crazy or something.” 

Jim placed his hand beneath her chin and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip with a smile.  “You’re not a home-wrecker.  My home life isn’t wrecked.  I just… My wife and I grew apart and I still need to feel like I can please someone and can connect.  I never thought it would be with a girl half my age, though.” 

         Karla laughed.  “I’m older than I look, I promise.  You just like it when I call you ‘big daddy.’  Look, I can see that you’re fighting off wanting to sleep.  Go find a quiet place and put your head down for a few minutes.  I’ll catch up with you soon.”  She leaned up onto her tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth.  Karla opened the supply closet door.  She peered left then glanced right.  “Okay.  Coast is clear.  You know the drill.  Count to ten before coming out of the closet just incase.” 

         She kissed her fingers then tilted her hand outwards and blew across her palm.  “See ya around, Jim.”  Karla slipped out of the closet, closed the door behind herself, then focused her mind.  Her palms began to incandesce a soft carnation hue then she disappeared only to reappear in the lavatory down in the building’s lobby.

         She glanced under each bathroom stall then withdrew her cellphone from her purse and called Nathanial Carrington.  The phone rang twice then Nathan picked up the line.  Karla held the phone to her ear and said, “Mission accomplished.  So, for some reason, the Federal Government is trying to use disinformation to cover up the attacks.” 

         “You didn’t feed on your contact, did you?” asked Carrington, his voice tinny sounding over the line. 

         “I always do, old man.  He could barely stand when I got done with him.  Any minute the high will kick in and I’ll get rambunctiously hyper.  That’s why I’m calling you right away, before I get silly.  What are your plans for tonight?”

         “I need to go check on a few people I knew that had abilities.  You remember Richard Owings?”

         Karla thought for a moment then chuckled inwardly.  “Yeah.  The guy who was on Stan Lee’s Superhumans a number of years ago because he had that whole ‘animal magnetism’ thing, where he acted like he could communicate with any animal or something.  He lives in California?”

         “Yeah.  He’s in his late seventies, now.  I called him this morning.  His phone is disconnected.  He’s certainly not one of the more powerful members of the ‘Esoteric Sects,’ but if something has happened to him then I want to know.”  Nathan coughed over the line then added, “Think I’ll take the trolley or something. I’m getting too old to walk now that the State took away my license.”

         The sex demoness smiled and shifted the phone to her other ear.  “If they knew you were quite a number of years older than ninety, they’d be even more interested.  Alright.  You stay safe, okay?”

         “Yeah, yeah.  We can’t all be immortal like you.  Listen, if something happens to me, Karla, I want you to look up two people for me.” 

         “Yeah?” 

         “Yeah.  A red head from Japan named Sinopa Crevan.  She looks a little on the Irish side.  The other person is a cop living here in town.  His name is, don’t laugh; Reno Nevada.” 

         Karla brought her free hand to her lips to mask a snicker.  “Did his parents hate him?”

         “Who knows – maybe.” 

         “Okay, so I’ve gotta know.  What power does the cop have?”

         Nathan cleared his throat over the line. “Uh… Let’s see.  It’s August 31^st… Okay, so far as powers go, he has nothing yet.  But he’s… uh.  He’ll manifest soon.  Trust me, he can help you.” 

         Karla faked a yawn.  “Yeah, yeah.  I get it.  You two are related or something.  I’ll keep him safe if you don’t wake up one day.  Just take care of yourself.  You’re the closest thing I have to a grandfather, let alone any kind of family.  I gotta jet.”  Karla ended the call and looked up as a woman stepped into the bathroom.  They exchanged pleasant smiles then the succubus made her way out of the lavatory.  She crossed the lobby and winked at a cute brunette girl sitting at the front desk. The busty blonde turned about and headed for the vestibule. 

Karla Howard perused her carnation-colored nails and stepped from the front entrance of the San Francisco Chronicle. She headed up Mission Street only to notice a police car in front of Bloomingdales. The vehicle had its emergency lights on and the officer took cover behind his cruiser.

She stopped on the corner then leaned back against the Chronicle building and watched as men with masks rushed out to a van parked on 5th Street. Karla crossed one ankle over the other as the scene before her played out like a cheesy action B-movie. "Cops in the front, bad guys around the back. How cliché."

A man in his mid-thirties came out from the Chronicle, walked down to the corner, seemingly oblivious of the police presence up the block, and held his index finger up. Karla recognized the man and smiled. She coughed into her manicured hand then said, "Funny running into you again." He glanced back and offered a slight smile. Karla waggled her brows. "Hey, slow down, Jim."

"I can't. I've got to hail a taxi and get moving. There's an attack on the Legion of Honor museum! There's a police standoff and he wants me there, like, ten minutes ago. I appreciate having a little fun in the copy supplies closet, but the Boss caught me sleeping it off at my desk and flipped out. Turns out there is a lot of crap happening around San Fran all of a sudden; some really-freaking-Twilight-Zone-calls just started coming in all at once. I've gotta get a taxi out there as quickly as possible."

Karla lifted a shiny-tipped index finger and pointed across the street to the old San Francisco Mint building. "But what about the robbery that's happening right now at The Granite Lady, cutie? And you're welcome for the romp, by the way."

Cops came down Mission Street on foot and turned onto 5th Avenue. The men in the van opened fire, causing the police to take cover. The journalist turned to Karla then said, "Jesus! Find somewhere safe! I'm headed back inside! Follow me!"

"Just go!" Karla told him. "And thanks for the shag! Now get moving!" She waited until Jim was out of sight then she cracked her knuckles by pushing her fingers together firmly. "Now to run off some of that pent up energy." A grin tugged at the pink-painted petals of her lips. Her eyes darted to the left, at the Bloomingdales a little ways up Mission Street. "Ah well, no time for shopping." Karla tossed a lock of blond over her shoulder and reached for a pair of white sunshades dangling at the V-neck collar of her blouse. She brought them to the bridge of her nose then gave a quick tug at the hem of her skirt. "Play time."

Traffic all but stopped on 5th Street and Mission Street, due to police cruisers moving into position to act as blockades a few short-blocks away. She waltzed across the street, sashaying her hips in a way that caused her skirt hem to dance against her thighs. "God," she murmured to herself, "Let’s see just how horrible of an actress I am.  Okay, act like a scared little girl – I can do that.  I got this.  I can do it."

Karla approached the van and the men with the guns. "Say, guys! You boys really shouldn't shoot guns in public like that! What about the state-wide ban on those things, huh?"

"Grab her!" one of the men shouted. The rear doors swung wide and one of the masked men hurried towards the girl. He threw his arms around her and forced her up over his shoulder then ducked back into the van. The driver exclaimed, "We have a hostage now, forget the security guard!"

One of the other men on the side of the van shoved a museum security guard down onto the pavement.  Without hesitation, the gunner shot him in the chest then dove into the van and shouted, "GO!" The white cargo van lurched forward, went up onto a curb, then turned about, performing a U-turn on 5th Street. Karla eased up just enough to look out through the rear window. She saw the security guard sit up, gingerly, and pluck a round from the vest beneath his uniform shirt.

"Head down, bitch," said the man who had pulled her into the van.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, easing back down to the rubberized floor in the rear. "So, what's your plan? Your buddies hit the Legion, you guys hit this… what's this all about, huh?"

"Shut up! You talk too much!"

Another gunman crawled towards her and got up on one knee. "What did you just say, girl?"

Karla smiled sheepishly, forgetting her plan to act scared. "What, about the Legion of Honor?"

"How the hell do you know about the attack on the Legion, huh?"

She offered a wan smile. "Mm, because I was just banging a journalist who got assigned to that story." She glanced around at the four men, all wearing stockings on their heads.

Someone from behind put a handgun to her head. "I admire your confidence, kid, but these guns are real. The bullets in them are real. What'd that journalist tell you?"

"That things are nuts over there. So, since you do know about it, you going to entertain me? I mean, c'mon… hitting several jobs at once? Takes a lot of people, preparation and…"

"Quiet," said the man on his knee. "You look too young to be a reporter or a cop. I can't quite figure you out. But you saw what we did to the security guy. Don't wind up like that guy."

She suppressed a giggle then cleared her throat so as to come off as somewhat serious. "Sure, no problem.  So, where are we going and are we there yet?" asked Karla with an exuberant smile. "And don't mind me, I always get a little hyper after sex. I'll try to tone it down; I wouldn't want to distract you boys, after all."

"Tie her up and keep her away from the door." The man crept back through the van and slid into the passenger seat. He strapped in.

The man that had pulled her into the van, earlier, turned her about and pulled a plastic zip-tie from his vest and put it over her wrists. Karla grinned. "Mm, this is turning out to be more fun than I thought."

"Cut it out," said the man behind her. He fastened the zip-tie firmly then shifted his weight.

Karla glanced over her shoulder, saw the bulge in his pants then whispered, "What's wrong? You like tying me up, sweetheart?"

"Just shut up," he grumbled. "You're, like… fifteen or something. Just shut up."

Karla broke into a fit of giggles. "Oh, don't give me that whole 'fifteen will get you twenty' logic. You just robbed a museum, kidnapped me and you’re an accessory to shooting a guard! Why stop there?"

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "Dude, if she doesn't shut up, you have my permission to ram your dick down her throat. Now keep her quiet."

"Hey, aren't you boys supposed to cover my head so I don't know where we're going or whatever?"

"If we shoot you," said the man sitting next to her, "It won't matter. If you don't shut up, that's what's going to happen. If you keep your mouth shut, we'll dump you off somewhere when we're done with you."

Karla leaned back against the wall of the van and pondered playing the 'I have to pee' game but decided to hold off until they were more frustrated. "So, are we there yet?"

"What'd they say about being quiet?" said another man, sitting still in the center of the van. "Shut up."

"Hold tight," said the driver. "Blockade up ahead." A handgun round pierced the windshield of the van. "Down!"

The man in the passenger seat opened his window and returned fire. The driver opened his own and started firing his pistol with his left hand.

The man who had put the zip-tie on Karla’s wrists suddenly slumped over.  As the van shifted, he sank into the rear passenger-side corner.  The succubus frowned thoughtfully and shook her head.  “Hey, one of your guys, back here, just took a bullet.  I, uh, I think he’s done for.”

The man that had shot the security guard, earlier, reached for her hair and forced her down onto her side.  “We’ve all told you to shut up.  Now do it and stay down before you get yourself killed.”

“Okay, okay.  Gosh.  Since when do you care about me?  You’re just going to throw me in a shallow ditch later anyway.” 

"Kid… you need to take your top lip to your bottom and shut it."

The driver fired two more rounds. "Gag her!”

Another pistol round struck the windshield. The man in the passenger seat continued firing back. "I thought cops wouldn't shoot in public! They're supposed to be chasing us! Not shooting at us!"

Karla faked a yawn, despite the erratic driving and volley of gunfire. "Boy, you guys really didn't think this out, huh? It's probably some rookie cop willing to take the heat from his sergeant because he's so desperate to stop his first…"

"SHUT HER UP!" the driver shouted. "Or shoot her!"

The man from the center of the van moved forward and brushed his lips against Karla's ear, whispering so that only she would hear him. "Lady, please, I need you to work with me, here.  My father and I are working to stop these guys and I need your help.  Please, stay quiet and don’t be offended if I pretend to be nasty to you."

Karla's eyes widened. She cut her brilliant green eyes to the man and met his gaze. She opened her mouth to say something but decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt. She nodded and pursed her lips together then leaned back against the side of the van.

The man whose name she didn’t know eased back away from Karla then told the men up front, "Look, you guys said you had a plan. Now the plan has changed. I have no problems being shot at, but I want to know what the score is if I'm going to be dodging bullets. Is this display piece even worth our time? Maybe we should tell that guy we want more money.  Hell, I don’t even see what we’ve stolen, let alone why we needed a cargo van to do this job."

The van swerved hard, causing Karla and the other man to brace themselves. It thumped down, having plowed through a road sign to avoid a police cruiser in the street.

The body of the dead robber remained slumped in the corner.

The man in the passenger seat glanced over his shoulder, watching the cops fade. He cleared his throat then said, "It was something from a storage lock box. Some private collector was having it kept there for safekeeping. I don't know how the commissioning person knew it was there, but the good Doctor was right on the money. And all of you, chill out – I've already texted the Doctor's contact; some guy named Rick – he's already promised us an extra ten grand, each." He pulled his phone out and pointed it at Karla. "Smile, sweetheart." He took a snapshot.

"Fine," said the man at the center of the van. "I have an idea. I have access to a van similar to this one. We should go there; it's not far. I'll either take the score to the dropzone, or I'll take the hostage and head the other direction. Hell, you guys take my van because the cops will be looking for this one, with the windshield shot up.  Then you can blend in.”

The driver and the man in the passenger seat looked at one another in silence then back at the road. After a moment of silent deliberation, the man in the right seat said, "I like that idea." He continued to fidget with his phone for a moment then it vibrated with an incoming text message. "Wait, hold up." He blinked then said, "Rick said he wants us to release the girl somewhere on Sunnydale in Visitacion Valley. He wants her alive."

"Jesus," the third man murmured. "She'll be raped, shot, and then raped again."

Karla yawned. "Sounds like a boring night. I know Sunnydale. It's not so bad.”

The man that had whispered in her ear earlier moved forward and spoke in a firm tone, acting nasty to put on a show for the two up front. "I said to stay quiet, whore. I mean it. Do not give me any trouble or I’ll make your life hell."

Karla smirked in reply. "Whore, huh? Say it again. That makes my ting-ting tingle."

The man eased back away from her ear and smirked. "Yes… whore. Girls who look your age should be virgins, not out having sex with journalists."

Karla laughed with a bright smile. "Hey, what can I say? I didn't want to die a virgin. What if there are terrorists up there waiting for me? I'm not trying to share some dickless idiot with seventy-one bimbos who don't know what to do with a penis."

"Let’s get the other van," said the driver. "Rick said Sunnydale.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, making eye contact with the last remaining robber. “Just drop her ass off right on the corner of Hahn and Sunnydale.” He raised his tone, then addressed Karla, “Your ass can walk, kid. Oh, and good luck."

"God, whatever. I'll walk then." Karla feigned a yawn again. "Wait, didn't they just build a brand new McDonalds on that corner? So, like, you're dropping me off at a Micky-D's?"

"Shut up, kid!"

"Do they have a ball pit?" she asked, trying to keep a straight face. "That would be awesome."

The man next to Karla leaned forward and whispered into her ear.  “I’m going to backhand you now.  Don’t move until they switch into the other van.  I mean it.” They made eye contact.  He saw Karla nod then he put his left hand next to her face, drew his right hand back and clapped his right palm across his left, besides her cheek, so that it looked like he struck her. 

Karla jerked her head away, playing along with the fake slap.  She fell over on the rubberized mat and lay still.  Her hair covered her face; she remained motionless and silently applauded herself for her best acting job to date.

“Okay, she won’t give us any more trouble,” the man in the back announced to the two up front.  “So what the hell did we steal? I don't see bags of cash. I don’t see anything. It's like… why the hell did we need a van in the first place?"

The man in the passenger seat reached into his pocket and withdrew a large block of glass with an eroded spike inside. "Because you guys wouldn't believe it if I told you. It's supposed to be one of the nails used to hold Christ on the Cross. Just having it in my pocket makes me feel ill." He paused then said, "Where's the van you mentioned earlier? You take that girl and drop her off. I want to hurry before the cops get back on our asses."

"Fine." The man got up onto his knees and gazed through the windshield. “Keep straight for the next two intersections, and then make a right.”

The driver nodded.  He passed a Garmin GPS back and said, "Put in the address. I'll take the GPS with me; can you find your way to Sunnydale?"

"Of course. I'll take the girl, right?"

"Yeah.” The driver nodded. “You'll be the one with the cops on your ass. You'll need her. I don't believe in Christ, but that's an old-ass nail and if it really has the dude's blood on it… then some wacko collector out there will want to pay a King's random for it. I'm satisfied this job is legit. Better than anything else I've ever stolen. So let's get this shit done.  Hell, maybe the buyer wants to try and clone Jesus or something, heh."

The man in the passenger seat put the glass-sealed nail back into his pocket. "Don't start. I don't think there's anything left in blood that old to do that kind of crap. So don't start. It's just some artifact. Now.” He glanced back at the man next to Karla. “I want you to start wiping this van down. I don't want any blood on the interior by the time you ditch the van.  When you’re done, burn it in the desert. If this case gets linked back to Rick or the Doctor… well, I don't want those guys having us killed for making rookie mistakes.”  He reached for the man’s hand and said, “Take your glove off.  I’m going to write an address on your palm.  Wash it off later.”

         “What’s the address for?”

         “It’s where you’re going to meet me when this shit is done.  I’m going to give you your van back and you’re going to take it to get detailed professionally.  Pay in cash.  Better safe than sorry.  When we meet, I’ll have your cut of the payout.  Do a good job and I’ll hire you again for the next gig.”

         “Sure.” The man took off his glove and let the guy in the passenger seat write an address on his palm in Sharpie.  He put his glove back on then reached to shake hands.  Their gloved hands met one another; with his free hand, the man from the center of the van discretely placed a transponder beacon into the vest of the guy with the crucifix nail.

         He turned back to Karla, acting as though he was checking to make sure she was still unconscious.  With his back turned to the two men up front, he withdrew a cellphone and thumbed out a text message that read, “Dad, I’m doing the ole van-swap routine.  Driver is expendable. Other guy has a nail from the crucifixion.  When you take it from him, hide it somewhere safe.  Transponder is in his vest.  Said he’s working for your ole protégé, Ricky Peterson.  I have a hostage to release. GTG.”  The man slid his phone into a pocket on his own gear vest then moved back between the driver and passenger seat.  “Okay, this is the turn.  In four blocks, make a left.  The girl is still out.” 

         “Okay, good,” the driver muttered.  “I hate smartass girls.  Glad you put her in her place.” 

         The man kneeling in the back said, “Yeah.”  He felt his phone vibrate in his vest.  He climbed to the rear side of the van and acted as though he was looking out the rear window to check for any pursuit vehicles.  “Still no cops, guys.”  He withdrew his phone and checked for the reply text. 

         The words on his screen read, “Great job, Fox.  Drop the girl off and meet me at the ice cream parlor – we’ll hide the van in the garage for now.”

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