Castle thought about that. "Even if Hudzinski disappeared locally, that doesn't mean he was killed here. Most car trunks contain ample room for a body, either living or dead."
And I bet you'd know, I thought.
"That's stupid," Karl said, which earned him a glare from Castle. I don't know if the Supefather was pissed at being talked to that way by a cop, or by a cop who was also a fellow supe.
"It makes no sense," Karl went on, "for them to transport a prisoner from Scranton to, say New York. There are lots of risks, haina? You could get pulled over for a busted tail light, or the guy could escape somehow. Hell, he might even die on you along the way. It's too complicated."
"He's right," I said. "If they wanted to film their fucking torture sessions in New York, or even Altoona, it'd be a lot simpler just to grab a couple of guys in those local areas."
Castle made a small gesture acknowledging defeat, which I thought was gracious of him. "All right," he said, "for the sake of discussion, let's posit that all of this 'torture porn' is being made locally. What do you want from me?"
"Names," I said. "That's what I want. If this stuff is being filmed around here, there's two possibilities. One is that the wizard doing the conjuring is from outside the area and came to town fairly recently. You know of anybody like that?"
Castle shook his big head slowly. "No one comes to mind. He wouldn't be required to check in with me upon arrival, but any practitioner who expected to remain in this community would probably have the good manners – and the good sense – to pay a courtesy call."
"The first of these videos was made while Vollman was still alive," Karl said. "Maybe the wizard checked in with him."
"That could be," Castle said. "But there's no way to know for certain. Vollman and I weren't close, and he didn't leave any written records that I've come across."
"The other possibility," I said, "is that the wizard is a local boy gone bad. How about it, Castle? Anybody in your community dabbling in black magic these days?"
"From what you've described, this individual is doing more than just dabbling," Castle said. "But in any case the answer is no. If I were aware of any such activity, I would of course have reported it to the police." He said that with a straight face, and any irony in his voice might have been my imagination. Or maybe not.
"Or you might've just handled it yourself," Karl said. "To avoid troubling the authorities, and all that."
The look that Castle gave Karl said, Just be glad you have that badge to hide behind, pal, or I would have your balls for breakfast. I hoped Karl would never have to deal with Castle without his status as a cop to back him up.
What Castle said was, "I suppose there is that possibility. But if I had, we would not be having this discussion, would we?"
We left the rug shop with Castle's promise that he would shake the supe community's tree a bit to see if any black magicians fell out, and would let us know if they did.
As we walked to the car, I said to Karl, "You gave the Supefather a fair amount of attitude back there."
"The guy's an asshole. Just rubs me the wrong way."
"You weren't like that with Vollman."
"Yeah, well," Karl said, "that was fucking then and this is fucking now."
Yeah, back then you weren't undead, and didn't have to prove your independence to anybody – including yourself.
I decided not to share that observation with my partner.
"I notice you didn't say anything about the werewolf in Nay Aug Park," Karl said.
"I'm keeping that as my ace in the hole," I said. "Although what game we're playing here, I have no clue. Besides, if Castle really is the Man, like Vollman was, he'll know about it from his own sources soon enough."
When we returned to the car, the red light on the police radio was blinking, which meant that we'd had a call while we were in the rug shop. I got in on the passenger side and picked the radio out of its holder.
"Dispatch, this is Markowski. A call came in for us sometime in the last half hour."
"Wait one, Markowski."
A couple of seconds later, a female voice in my ear said, "This is Agent Thorwald."
I'm pretty sure I blinked at that. "This is Markowski. How is it you're on the police radio net?"
"Lieutenant McGuire let me borrow one of the units. I've been trying to raise you for the last twenty minutes," she said, not sounding happy about it.
"Sorry, we were engaged in a gunfight with a gang of desperate criminals."
"Really?"
"No, not really. What can I do for you, Agent Thorwald?"
When she spoke again, her voice was matter-of-fact. She had controlled her temper, rather than ream my ass out for joking around with her. That earned her a point in my book. A small one.
"You and your partner had best return to the squad area," she said. "ASAP."
"Can I ask why?"
"An agent from the Scranton field office brought over something that arrived there today, special delivery. It's another snuff film."
I felt my guts contract. Some other poor bastard had died in unimaginable pain, for the amusement of a bunch of fucking sickos.
"I agree that we should take a look at the video," I said. "But can't it wait until near the end of our shift? We've got a couple of other stops to make." I was in no hurry to sit through another episode of Grand Guignol with real blood, although I knew that I was just postponing the inevitable.
"Up to you," she said, "but I'd recommend you come in now. This one's different from the others."
"How so?" "There's a woman in it."
The set-up was the same, except that it wasn't. They had the pentagram, all right, and the red protective circle surrounding it. What looked like the same blood-spattered wooden chairs sat within the circle, and nearby you could catch glimpses of the table with its instruments of agony all ready to go.