First Circle Club Read online

  Haymaker worked his jaw for a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck." He walked out of the store with the papers in hand.

  After he was gone, Virgil turned to Alfred. "You'll be OK in here?"

  "Sure," Alfred said. "I'll just make friends with the cashier. She'll be happy to let me stay."

  Virgil nodded. "We'll be right outside."

  He, Lisa, and Sara left. They went to the trunk of their car and opened it. Furies' Bane was wrapped tightly in layers of towels for protection. Virgil carefully removed the towels until he reached the white leather bag containing the gun. The leather appeared natural, and he wondered what animal it had come from.

  He handed the bag to Lisa. "You get one shot. Make it count."

  She nodded and smiled. She looked around until her gaze settled on a bar across the street.

  She pointed. "Over there. We can get a clear shot from the roof."

  Sara had a dubious expression, but she followed Lisa across the street. The two women walked around the side of the building.

  After checking for witnesses, Lisa performed a standing leap onto the side of a dumpster, and then she jumped straight up to the roof. It was a maneuver no normal human could've accomplished. Sara then duplicated the feat. She smiled, obviously delighted by her own surprising agility.

  They moved to a front corner of the roof and laid down so they were barely visible.

  Virgil sat in the car. He watched the front door of Charon's Ferry with the steady gaze of a man who didn't need to blink.

  * * *

  Ken Walton stood before the video screen in the teleconference room in his mansion. He was meeting with two Japanese businessmen located in Tokyo. They were wearing charcoal gray suits, white shirts, and blue ties. One had shots of gray in his hair, and the other had gone completely gray.

  "Two billion dollars," Walton said sternly.

  The Japanese men appeared shocked.

  "That's outrageous," the older one said in a Japanese accent. His name was Mr. Okuda.

  "You know the numbers," Walton said. "My patents will let you dominate the entire market segment for the next five years. The two billion will be a mere line item on the spreadsheet by the time the deal has run its course."

  "You're being very greedy, Mr. Walton. I thought we were business partners."

  "We are. When I talk to your competition, I'll ask for even more. Two billion is a sweetheart deal."

  "This is blackmail," Okuda said.

  "It's just good business."

  A butler quietly entered the conference room. He had a portable phone on a velvet pillow. Walton knew the call had to be very important for the butler to interrupt a business meeting.

  "Excuse me, gentlemen," Walton said. "I need to talk to somebody else while you discuss my proposal. My apologies for my rudeness."

  He pressed a button on a remote control to mute the conference call.

  Then he put the phone to his ear. "Yes?"

  "The guys you're looking for are at Charon's Ferry," a gruff male voice replied.

  "How many?"

  "One came and left, one is still in the store, two are on a roof across the street, and one is waiting in a car."

  Walton nodded. "Sounds like a stakeout."

  "Yes, sir," the caller said.

  "Make sure they don't spot you."

  "We've been extremely careful. Something strange happened, sir. The two women sort of jumped onto the roof. It's like they had springs in their legs."

  "They're just very athletic," Walton said. "Don't worry about it. Call me immediately if there are any new developments, but I'm not expecting any until tomorrow morning. Stay out of sight. It's extremely important that they don't know they're being watched. If they catch you, I shudder to think of what might happen."

  "Yes, sir."

  Walton gave the phone to the butler who then left the room.

  Walton smiled slightly. The demons were following the clues exactly according to plan. The journey would end in their complete destruction. Walton merely needed to keep them distracted until the trap was ready.

  He turned back to the Japanese businessmen on the video screen and unmuted the call.

  "What is your decision?" Walton said.

  "Two billion up front is impossible," Okuda said. "The board would never approve it. If we spread the expense across the lifetime of the deal, it might be more palatable. Two hundred million every six months?"

  "Well, if you want to pay in installments, we must discuss the interest rate. I'm afraid you can't simply divide by ten and think we're done." Walton raised his eyebrows.

  The Japanese businessmen glanced at each other anxiously.

  * * *

  Virgil watched Alfred and the store clerk leave Charon's Ferry. The two of them were chatting like old friends even though they couldn't be more different. For one thing, he had been born at least a hundred years before her.

  The girl locked up the store and walked off. She gave Alfred one last smile before departing.

  Alfred came over to Virgil who was still sitting in the car.

  Virgil rolled down the window. "You have a new buddy."

  "Nice girl," Alfred said. "She's suffering from the usual mother-daughter rivalries though. I gave her some strategies for repairing that relationship."

  "Great. The store is closed for the night?"

  "Yes. We might as well leave."

  Virgil waved to Lisa and Sara who were still on the roof across the street. They jumped down and ran over.

  "That was a waste of a good three hours," Lisa said.

  "We'll return first thing in the morning," Virgil said. "I still have a good feeling about this lead. For now, let's just go back to Chinatown."

  "And do what?"

  He didn't have an immediate answer. While the rest of the world slept, they would be sitting around idly. Not having human needs was occasionally awkward.

  "I guess we'll just use our phones to learn about the modern world," Virgil said. "We still have a lot of catching up to do. I'm curious about something called 'social media.' It sounds important."

  He also wanted to see Mei again, although it was possible she was already asleep.

  * * *

  Virgil looked at Li and Li's Electronics Boutique with a feeling of dismay. The store was closed, and the windows were dark. A steel security gate protected the entire storefront.

  Light shone from windows on the floor above. Mr. Li and his daughter were still awake but probably preparing to go to bed.

  Virgil thought about tossing a pebble at the window, but then he remembered he had a phone. He called Mei's number.

  She answered in a tired voice, "Virgil?"

  "How did you know it was me?" he said in surprise.

  "Caller ID. It's late. What do you want?"

  "I just wanted to say good night. I'm standing out front."

  "Oh," Mei said.

  A moment later a window slid open, and she stuck her head out.

  "Good night!" he said cheerfully.

  "Did you have any luck finding that guy you're looking for?"

  "A little. Your list was extremely helpful. Thank you. We'll continue the investigation in the morning."

  Mei smiled. "You're going to sleep now? Where?"

  "Uh, a motel."

  "Which one?"

  Virgil wished she hadn't asked that question. He was actually planning on spending the night in the basement of Red Palace Antiques with the rest of his team, but that answer would only invite more questions.

  "I don't remember the name exactly," he said. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to take that walk with you. I'll see you tomorrow, but I don't know when."

  Mei furrowed her brow. "You just want to walk, or do you have more in mind?"

  "Well, uh, a little more."

  "Slow down. I don't know much about you. All I've heard is a crazy story about time travel. You seem like a good guy, but I'm not even sure whether you're from the future or the past. You certainly ha
ve a problem with modern technology."

  "I understand your reservations," Virgil said with a forced smile. "I'll tell you everything when we get together. Until then, good night." He waved at her.

  "Night." She closed the window.

  Virgil's smile turned into a frown. He wanted to kick himself for his clumsy handling of that conversation. He realized he needed a game plan if he wanted to pursue Mei romantically. Their brief, awkward conversations reminded him of high school, and not in a good way. Somehow, he had to woo her properly while not cutting into time spent on the mission. It wasn't going to be easy.

  He turned and headed to the antique store. All the street lights were still on, but Chinatown was quiet. Only an occasional car cruised down the streets. A brief rain had left a few puddles behind.

  He found the right alley and turned into it. He walked past the backs of several stores, mostly restaurants. Clouds of flies buzzed around dumpsters, but he couldn't smell the rotting food. His enhanced eyesight allowed him to see well despite the darkness in the alley.

  Virgil came to the stairway behind Red Palace Antiques. He walked down dirty, cracked concrete steps to a security door covered in sheet steel. The metal had rusted through in spots. He knocked.

  Lisa opened the door. He realized she had been wearing the same blue suit all day, and it had become a little rumpled. Sweat and body odor wasn't a problem for the team, but they still needed to change clothes and get cleaned up occasionally.

  "How is your girlfriend doing?" she said with a smirk.

  "Sadly, she isn't my girlfriend," Virgil said. "She's fine."

  Alfred and Sara were sitting on chairs and playing with their phones. The gadgets held their attention completely.

  "The relationship can't last," Lisa said. "All you'll do is break her heart when it's time for us to go back to Limbo."

  Virgil had no counter-argument, so he ignored the comment. "What are you doing?" he said to Alfred.

  "I found something called Twitter," Alfred said. "It's a fascinating example of human communication in the modern age. The messages are remarkably terse yet brazenly honest. It seems people will tell the world things they wouldn't tell their own parents in my day."

  "That doesn't sound safe," Virgil said. "Aren't they worried about being blackmailed?"

  Alfred shrugged. "I guess not."

  * * *

  Virgil parked in front of Charon's Ferry. It was exactly 9 AM.

  "Same setup as yesterday," he said. "I'll wait in the car, Lisa and Sara are across the street, and Alfred is our inside man."

  "Are we going to spend the whole day here?" Lisa said.

  He looked over at her. Everybody had changed clothes, and now she was wearing a brown suit. Her skirt only went down to her knees, exposing muscular calves. Makeup darkened her eyebrows and lipstick reddened her lips.

  "If necessary," Virgil said.

  "When do you want to give up and move on?"

  "Let's try to be more optimistic. OK? Move out."

  The rest of the team dispersed leaving Virgil alone in the car. He decided to call Detective Haymaker.

  Virgil had spent the entire night playing with his phone until it no longer intimidated him. He had studied websites describing how cell phones worked at length. He even had a basic grasp of the intricacies of the internet. The technology was incredible, but it was still just a tool with strengths and weaknesses, and he was starting to understand both.

  He confidently looked up Haymaker's contact entry and made the call.

  "Hello?" Haymaker said.

  "This is Virgil. Did you make any progress on that list of places to check?"

  "No. I just got into the office. I'm still working on my first cup of coffee."

  "I gave you the list yesterday evening," Virgil said.

  "At the end of a long day. Some of us need to sleep. Besides, most stores were closed by then."

  Virgil frowned. "Please, get to it as expeditiously as possible. We're back at Charon's Ferry today."

  "I'll ask the locals to have backup ready in case you need it," Haymaker said.

  "Thanks, but if we bump into Daniel, the ordinary police won't be much use."

  "It can't hurt to have extra resources available."

  "Sure," Virgil said. "We'll talk again in a few hours. Bye." He hung up.

  * * *

  Alfred was reading a book on demonology. Even though he had little personal experience with demons, he could tell the book was mostly hogwash. The massive tome mashed together myths from many traditions and eras. The author had obviously written a lot of words in the hope that at least some were accidently right. It was a great example of literary desperation. People who knew the facts weren't afraid to state them clearly and concisely.

  The book was still a fascinating journey into human frailties. Alfred enjoyed picking out the repeated psychological themes. Fear of the unknown was the most common. People would rather tell ridiculous stories than admit they didn't know the truth.

  A young man entered the store. He was wearing a white T-shirt, white pants, and a white plastic belt. His hair had been bleached white. His ruddy face had more color than any of his clothing. Alfred was intrigued.

  The man in white walked immediately to the refrigerator containing little boxes of Prosphora. He took some money out of his pocket and stared at the cash forlornly. Alfred could tell there was enough to buy at most one box if that much.

  Alfred walked over. "Hello," he said in his special voice. "Expensive, isn't it?"

  The man nodded. "The price keeps going up."

  "Sounds like you're a regular customer."

  "I buy a box every day."

  "Oh?" Alfred said. "What's your name?"

  "Zachariah."

  Alfred was still using his voice to create trust and friendship. Zachariah smiled pleasantly.

  "What do you do with the Prosphora?"

  "My order performs a daily purification ritual." Zachariah grimaced. "Oh. I shouldn't have told you that. It's a secret."

  "Don't worry." Alfred winked. "I'm good at keeping secrets. Why are you purifying yourself?"

  "For the afterlife."

  "You're young. You won't have to worry about the afterlife for a very long time."

  "I'm hoping to get into Heaven early," Zachariah said.

  Alfred's eyes widened. "You're not considering suicide, are you?"

  "No. Suicide is a sin. Nobody gets into Heaven that way."

  "Right. You'll have to wait until you die of natural causes."

  "Or get murdered." Zachariah inhaled sharply. "I can't keep my mouth shut around you. I have to go."

  He grabbed a box of Prosphora and ran to the cashier. He didn't bother counting out his money. He simply threw all his cash down and left the store.

  Alfred followed Zachariah out. Alfred waved and pointed to get Virgil's attention. Virgil nodded.

  * * *

  Virgil locked his focus on the subject who was dressed entirely in white. Bleached hair made him even more prominent. The subject entered a small, white sedan and drove off.

  Virgil followed in his own car. He got close at first to read the license plate. Once the number was committed to memory, he backed off to a safer distance. The tricky part about tailing a subject was varying the distance the right way. It was like playing with a fish at the end of a long line. By reeling the target in and out, and by vanishing from sight on occasion, Virgil would cause less suspicion. The distinctive white color of the sedan made the job easier.

  When Virgil was stopped at a light, he grabbed his phone and called Detective Haymaker.

  "Yes?" Haymaker said.

  "I have a license plate for you." Virgil gave the number.

  The light changed, and he resumed driving with one hand.

  "Registered to a Zach Jones," Haymaker said. "Purchased a week ago, used. Why?"

  "I'm following him. Alfred signaled that the guy was suspicious. I don't know why. He likes the color white."

&n
bsp; "Hang on. I'll do a little more digging."

  Virgil heard keystrokes over the phone. He was amazed at the clear sound even though the device had no visible speaker.

  In the meantime, the white sedan was headed west. It made an abrupt turn onto a highway onramp. Virgil was caught off-guard and had to switch lanes suddenly. He got stuck behind a slow car and had to watch helplessly as the white sedan gained distance. He cursed softly.

  "Zach was a troubled youth," Haymaker said. "Drugs, fighting, truancy. He's still on probation."

  "Good news. If I lose him, the probation officer can tell me where he lives."

  Virgil swerved around the slow car, breaking a few traffic laws and inciting a chorus of car horns. He started to make up ground on the target.

  "Bad news," Haymaker said. "Zach missed his last two meetings. The probation officer can't find him."

  Virgil clenched his jaw.

  He followed the white sedan out to a neighborhood just south of O'Hare Airport. Proximity to noisy jets had obviously driven down real estate values because the homes were small, single-story boxes with little architectural flair. Most were built out of plain bricks. Mature trees lent much needed dignity to the area.

  Virgil slowed down. The sedan turned into the driveway of a house which was tiny even by the standards of the neighborhood. It wasn't much bigger than a mobile home. The house had brown siding and an asphalt roof. Virgil parked at a safe distance.

  He got out and cautiously approached. He wished he had had a gun. An ordinary gun wouldn't do much good against Daniel, but it would be helpful for other situations. Virgil decided he would obtain a serious weapon or two the next chance he got.

  He stopped when he was close enough to read the number on the house. Five other white cars were parked in the driveway and on the street. They were all different models but in similarly poor condition. He wondered what the neighbors thought of the odd collection.

  Virgil hid behind a big tree. He took out his phone and called Lisa.

  She answered, "Hello?"

  "I followed the subject to a house. Have everybody meet me here. Approach cautiously." He gave the address.

  "But we don't have a car."

  "Then take a cab. It's not too far."

  Virgil called Haymaker and gave the detective the same instructions.