She rolled up the note and tossed it in her mouth. The sugar- impregnated rice paper dissolved pleasantly on her tongue. When it was gone she walked into the Wal-Mart to pick up sundries, sipping on her Frappuccino to get the taste of ink out of her mouth.
“Agent Donahue,” Halliwell said as Greg entered his office. “Sit down, please.”
Donahue glanced at the visitor in the office as he sat down, then looked over at his boss.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“This is Mr. Germaine,” Halliwell said, gesturing at the newcomer with a frown. “He’s a… consultant on the R-143 investigation.”
“I wasn’t aware that we’d called in a consultant,” Greg said, frowning. The visitor was well dressed in a tailored suit. The FBI used a variety of consultants and Donahue mentally pegged him as a specialist in some forensic field.
“Greg, you’ve been with the Bureau… twelve years, right?” Halliwell said, with a hint of nervousness. “But most of that time in Robbery, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Donahue said.
“This is your first kidnapping investigation,” Halliwell added. “I’ve been in kidnapping and serial for over twenty years now. And… well, I’ve seen some things that, let’s just say they don’t make the news, okay?”
“I’m not following you, sir,” Donahue said, frowning. “What sort of things?”
“The term is ‘Special Circumstances,’ Agent Donahue,” the visitor said. He had a light accent, maybe British overlaid with something else.
“What does Special Circumstances mean?” Greg said, feeling like he was interviewing a suspect rather than having a meeting with his boss.
“It means the supernatural, Greg.” Halliwell sighed. “And before you decide I’m nuts, don’t. About the sixth investigation I was on turned out to be a vampire. A real, honest-to-God, bloodsucking, charming, stronger-than-human vampire. I am not shitting you, okay?”
Greg’s face bunched up, his eyes closed and he actually felt his blood run cold.
“You’re not joking, are you, sir?”
“No, he’s not,” Germaine replied. “When there is an investigation that has Special Circumstances, the FBI calls us in. They, in fact, keep us informed on all investigations that might have such circumstances. We’d been tracking R-143, mostly because the cabalistic symbols on the bodies are, in fact, the correct symbols for a particular form of necromantic rite. But we had hoped that it involved, let’s just say a normal psychopath. Unfortunately, we’ve recently been informed that such was not the case. We have reason to believe that the girls are being sacrificed to a particular lesser deity, call it a demon. Such sacrifices create power which can be used by the sacrificer. Furthermore, sufficient power can permit the deity to manifest on earth. We would prefer to prevent that from happening. Things get… remarkably ugly when that occurs.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Greg asked.
“We have far fewer agents available than the FBI,” Germaine said, smiling faintly. “On the other hand, we also have some techniques the FBI does not to narrow down the field of suspects. We believe that, of all the potential conventions, the one that you are going to attend has the highest likelihood of attracting your perpetrator. Therefore there will be a Special Circumstances consultant attending that con. They will probably accompany you to it. In the event that you find the perpetrator, I would recommend that you inform the consultant. It is possible that the person may have abilities that you will be unable to combat. By the same token, the consultant may need… back-up. Depending upon who is sent they may have an attitude of nonviolence towards all but the necromancer or entity. Therefore, if your perpetrator is not using ritual, or does not summon a manifestation, you and the local police may have to handle the capture.” Germaine paused and thought for a moment. “However, if there is manifestation, it is probably better if you let the ‘consultant’ handle it.”
“If it hadn’t been for the SC operative in that vampire investigation, I wouldn’t be here,” Halliwell said. “I’ve dealt with them several times over the years. Sometimes it turns out to be nothing, just your usual murdering madman. But when you need an SC operative, you really need an SC operative. Understand?”
“No, sir,” Greg admitted.
“Well, let’s put it this way,” Halliwell said, grimacing. “If the SC operative tells you to jump, don’t even ask how high. Just jump. Period. Or you’re liable to end up as a corpse.”
“And, I might add,” Mr. Germaine said. “A corpse whose soul now resides in hell as the plaything of the demon you were opposing.”
“Yes, sir,” Greg said, swallowing.
“One more thing,” Halliwell said. “Nobody finds out about SC unless they have to and they’re considered trustworthy. The very existence of Special Circumstances is top secret. You don’t tell anyone about it, you don’t admit to its existence outside of the circle who know about it. There is no ‘Special Circumstances’ department in the Bureau. It doesn’t exist, period. You cannot talk about the special aspects of this investigation with anyone except myself or the director. And, obviously, the SC operatives you may encounter in your career. You’re now on an inside track in the Bureau. It won’t get you promoted faster but… you’ll see things and know things that very few do.”
“Assuming you survive,” Germaine said, with another faint, secret smile. “Special Circumstances investigations are notoriously hard on regular agents.”
Chapter Two
As Barbara fixed dinner she considered how to broach the subject of her trip to Mark. She loved her husband and, as a good Christian woman, considered him to be the head of the household. And Mark was not going to want her to go. However, she also knew that the group she was involved with was, without question, doing God’s work. This was to be her first formal training session, not to mention first official mission, and she intended to be there when called.
She finished fixing dinner, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and broccoli, then set it out on the table, calling the family to feed. It took a while.
Allison was on the phone with a friend. Getting her to hang up involved threats to lose the privilege for a week. The first games of March Madness were on so dragging Brandon away from the TV practically involved oxen. Mark had already decided that he was just going to eat off a tray, so Brandon wanted to know why he couldn’t as well. Since Mark was ignoring the argument, Barb got no support from that direction. By the time she got Brandon over to the table and a TV tray on Mark’s lap, the phone had rung again and Allison was back on. Even Brook was hiding in her room so it took nearly fifteen minutes from the moment the broccoli was ready before they sat down.
They had just said grace, Barbara saying the prayer since Mark was glued to the Georgia Tech game, and settled down to their food when Allison made a face.
“This broccoli is cold!”
Barb counted to ten, slowly, then did it again in Fusian. If she didn’t she might say something… unChristian to her daughter. Demons were going to be a vacation!
Barbara waited until the break between the third and fourth quarter to spring her surprise.
“Mark?” she said, sitting down on the couch.
“Yeah?” he asked, distractedly, as the announcer ran over the highlights of the previous quarter along with what was going on in other games.