That Author Guy

Ashes Of Babylon - Chapter Eight

By: Cory Sandrock, '06

Posted: 2/16/06

Frank and Michael stood together in shock. Before them sat the small vile that contained a nearly microscopic blood sample taken from the Langley crime scene. This was the only DNA evidence connected to their unknown suspect. It was also the only remaining piece of evidence from this entire investigation. The single hair, pictures from the crime scene, and everything else related to the case had been stolen by the mystery woman Frank fawned over the previous night. Although the feeling of stupidity continued to plague him, Frank now breathed a little easier knowing that at least something connected to the killer had been spared.

"Good thing DiPrimo is a control freak," offered Michael as he picked up the vial to examine it.

"Yeah," added Frank, "nobody gets stuff out of this lab…not even us." He smiled and looked at Michael for support. Michael replaced the vial and gave Frank a pat on the shoulder. Frank nodded.

"I still feel really stupid," said Frank.

"The only good thing is that it means we're getting somewhere," replied Michael.

"How so?"

"It means we made somebody nervous enough to break in and mess with the evidence," reasoned Michael, "which seems pretty desperate to me." Frank nodded and they both walked towards the door.

"Now we just have to figure out how the bitch that messed with me is connected," asserted Frank as he slammed the lab door closed and checked the lock.

Stephen shifted uncomfortably in a chair he had sat in many times before. The leather groaned subtly as he uncrossed his legs and scanned the room. Two empty bottles of champagne lay next to the fireplace where he had spotted them earlier, but now they seemed somehow sinister in the grey morning light that pushed through the windows. Father Thomas stood behind Stephen with a heavy rope clutched in his right hand. Stephen did not even dare glance at his supposed mentor because Ruth lounged on the sofa across from his chair with her small pistol pointed directly at his forehead. Time had moved slowly for Stephen since watching his pair of captors kiss in the parking lot. First he was stunned, then frightened as they burst into the vestry with guns, and finally angry as he was held captive in the apartment.

"What now?" asked Stephen.

"Don't talk," said Ruth sternly.

"Ruth please," responded Father Thomas, "Stephen would never try anything crazy, right Stephen?" He took a step towards Stephen to emphasize his point.

"I'm not stupid," replied Stephen. He shot a disappointed look at Father Thomas, who stepped back from the chair.

"I never even considered that," said Father Thomas as he placed the rope back on the kitchen counter, "you're one of the smartest altar boys we've ever had."

"Then tell me what the hell is going on!" demanded Stephen.

"We need you," Father Thomas interjected, "to save the Order."

"What?" Stephen looked confused.

"The Order of the Knights of Babylon," explained Ruth.

"Our society," continued Father Thomas, "is dedicated to improving the world and giving power to those who deserve it."

"Like you?" Stephen asked.

"And you," said Father Thomas, "how else could I get you into Harvard with one phone call?" Father Thomas smiled, slightly, and Stephen felt as though he had been hit by something harder than any opponent he had ever faced on the rugby field.

News of the robbery did not sit well with other officers at the 18th District Police Station. Although everybody told Frank they understood, he noticed a number of dirty glares in the halls and heard several whispered conversations in the bathroom. Michael tried to deflect some of the criticism while still harboring a hint of his own frustration with Frank. It was 9 a.m. and the station was coming to life in spite of the setback. If anything, the robbery actually strengthened resolve around the station while officers tried to remember as many lost details as possible. Amid this activity Frank desperately tried to remember something about the previous night that could lead them to the mystery woman.

"So nothing sticks out?" Michael asked again.

"No," said Frank, "I mean, she was hot and had a short skirt and that's pretty much all I remember."

"How drunk were you?" Michael jibbed.

"Don't start," mumbled Frank.

"Sorry," replied Michael. He paused and paced the room in silence. Frank stared out the window hoping something would appear in his memory. For a moment they were both lost in thought. Although Michael knew he could recreate much of what was in the evidence file with his own notes, he also knew they were still forgetting something important. Frank finally broke the silence.

"She had blonde hair," Frank mused.

"You sure?" Michael asked as something jumped in his mind.

"Yeah," Frank offered, "it's all coming back now…She had flowing blonde hair that stood out against her blue eyes."

"And it was definitely long?" Michael wanted to be sure. Frank nodded and Michael continued. "So was the one in the evidence room."

"You're right," Frank confirmed.

"So she is connected," Michael added, "somehow." Frank nodded and Michael grabbed his keys. They both knew they had to return to the crime scene.

Stephen had listened for what seemed an eternity as Father Thomas and Ruth debated how to proceed. Stephen learned that Ruth, Father Thomas and several other members of the Order of the Knights of Babylon had become increasingly upset by policies championed by the ruling council. Ruth and Father Thomas felt that the current leaders were straying too far from the original mission of the Order. Ruth even suggested that the ruling council members were simply promoting their own children without regard for their abilities. She explained that this was not the original intent. Father Thomas told Stephen how the founders designed the Order to maintain wealth and place the brightest nobles into positions of power around the world. He explained that the list of members stretched back to the Battle of Agincourt and included kings, presidents, and countless titans of business. Ruth and Father Thomas viewed the newest members with disdain and considered them unworthy of the power granted them. They wanted new leadership and were willing to seize it for themselves.

"But we need you to make the cycle complete," explained Father Thomas, "otherwise our grand vision will end with us. You are the future."

"And apparently Thomas thinks you're smart, tough, and ambitious," added Ruth with a smirk. Stephen looked down.

"I know this sounds crazy Stephen, but consider the possibilities," Father Thomas pleaded, "help us, go to Harvard and build an exciting life for yourself."

"But my dad," began Stephen.

"You're eighteen," asserted Father Thomas, "make your own damn decisions for once."

Silence covered the room as Ruth and Father Thomas stared at Stephen. He had spent his entire life doing what was expected of him and the offer before him was tempting, but something about it seemed almost entirely evil.

"What do we have to do?" asked Stephen.

The room where Mark and Danny had been murdered was still closed to students and teachers at Langley, so a layer of dust had begun to settle by the time Frank and Michael arrived to review the scene. Michael hoped something at the scene might connect the mystery woman to the crime or at least invigorate their search for answers. Frank opened the door with an audible creak and Michael walked in carrying his notebook.

"Here we go again," muttered Frank as he glanced at the notebook.

"We both know it works," retorted Michael, "so please try to help me this time."

"Fine, but why do I always have to play the victim?" asked Frank.

"I guess you're just good at being dead," Michael motioned for Frank to move over towards the location of the first body, "and you owe me after last night." Frank grumbled and obeyed.

"Okay, so you're Mark and I'm the killer," Michael reasoned.

"So you shoot me in the back of the head," added Frank. Michael nodded and took out his gun. Frank stepped back.

"Don't worry," Michael showed him the clip and placed it on the floor, "so I shoot you in the head." Michael gestured with the gun as though he had just shot Frank. In doing so he realized that Mark could not have been standing.

"Why was he kneeling?" asked Michael as he considered the crime.

"There was that book, right?" offered Frank. Michael nodded with recognition as the entire sequence of events began to fall into place. He walked Frank through the crime and mimed shooting a kneeling Mark. Michael then turned and aimed his gun towards the position where Danny would have been standing.

"How far would you say Danny was standing?" asked Michael.

"I don't know," said Frank as he walked over to his new position, "maybe three or four feet I guess, not too far."

"So why did he miss?" Michael wondered.

"He didn't," Frank replied.

"But it's an easy shot from here," Michael stood as he spoke and took imaginary shots at Frank. "The killer could have shot him in the head and avoided the second shot." Michael kept making imaginary shots as his frustration grew. He glared at Frank and began waving the gun wildly.

"Maybe the killer was a bad shot," Frank offered. Michael kept moving the gun around to new positions. He yelled out in anger as frustration overwhelmed him and his hand slipped higher on the gun. At the same time the gun hammer fell down and caught Michael on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He grunted in pain and watched as a drop of blood fell from his hand towards the floor in slow motion. Suddenly the sequence of events became perfectly clear.

"That's what happened to the killer Frank," exclaimed Michael, "he did the same thing and hurt his hand and that's why there was a drop of blood on the floor. Maybe he never fired a gun before." Michael furiously wrote this theory in his notebook. Michael knew that once he could put the mystery blonde and the inexperienced shooter in the same room, the nightmare would finally end.

Ruth and Father Thomas almost gushed as they explained how the Order Council met rarely and chose the secret meeting location based on a rotation schedule known only to the top leaders. Stephen still wondered what made this situation so dangerous and why Ruth needed a gun. His world was spinning as Father Thomas outlined their plan to take control of the council, initiate Stephen, and pursue a policy aimed at returning the Order to its original goal of promoting young talent.

"So what do you think?" asked Father Thomas after his lengthy explanation.

"It sounds too easy," muttered Stephen while he watched Ruth begin to lower her gun.

"It is," replied Ruth, "and that's the best part. We just bust it there, kill the council and take control. Everybody's in the same place, so it can't get much easier."

Shock hit Stephen again and he spun around to face Father Thomas.

"You're gonna kill them?" he asked in disbelief.

"Of course," Ruth piped in.

"This is a revolution," said Father Thomas, "and every true revolution begins in blood."

"But you're a priest!" Stephen became frantic and Ruth raised her gun again in response.

"No I'm not," yelled Father Thomas, "the Order just gave me this position to maintain its control over the church." Stephen gave a shout as he started to run and Father Thomas quickly knocked him to the floor with a swift kick. Ruth then straddled him and held him down as he continued struggling.

"Jesus, even Donnelly's kid didn't fight this much," grunted Ruth as she held onto Stephen, "and that kid knew he was dying." Stephen suddenly stopped struggling. A brief silenced covered the room.

"Mark Donnelly?" asked Stephen quietly.

"That dead kid at your school," Ruth replied as she stood and brushed herself off. Stephen nodded and remained motionless.

"We are going to do this whether you come willingly or not," Father Thomas intoned as he leaned over Stephen, "and now you know what we are willing to do." His grim expression made Stephen stay frozen on the floor.

"The council meeting is tomorrow," explained Ruth.

"So will you come quietly or do I need to get that rope out again?" asked Father Thomas. Stephen did not move.

Frank and Michael sat silently in the Volvo as they drove back to the station. They had finally found some clues at the crime scene and hope was beginning to shine its light on the case. Michael was confidant that the killer could be caught as he pulled out his cell phone to call Stephen with the news. He dialed the number and smiled at Frank. That smile quickly froze as the phone continued ringing without reaching Stephen. When the familiar cell phone voicemail message came on, Michael began to wonder if something was wrong. Where was Stephen?

The silver Porsche sped down the street with Father Thomas behind the wheel and Ruth in the seat beside him. The gun in her right hand was pointed at the back seat where Stephen sat in stunned silence. The cell phone in his pocket continued to vibrate as the increasing number of calls from his father went unanswered. The road they were traveling was familiar to Stephen, but the situation was so unbelievable that all he could do now was wait and pray.