Chapter 15 — Making Friends and Influencing People

"I'm just sayin', I expected you to be on the damn warpath here, removed from the case and all," said Maddie, a wine glass cupped in her hand.

Jeremy shrugged. "No skin off my back." He nodded at the TV. "And besides, why ain't you there?"

"Conflict of interest apparently, according to my people. Really it's just McCullough makin' a power play. Keep me off the panel so I lose the screen time." His big sister shook her head. "It won't work. Press is already banging my phone for interviews."

"Did you mean McDonough?"

"No, McCullough. Different senators. Annoying as fuck."

"The Select Committee to Investigate Potential Misconduct in the Rallsburg Incident Investigation recognizes Michael Aderholt. Mr. Aderholt, please state your position for the common record."

"Isn't this already on record?"

"We've had to reconvene a new committee. Please state your position for the record."

"Michael Aderholt, Sub-Station Chief for the National Security Branch, Olympia, Washington."

"Mr. Aderholt, are you the ranking officer of the station that took control of the investigation into the incident that took place on May 15th, 2018, in Rallsburg Washington?"

"Around May 15th."

"Just answer the question, Mr. Aderholt."

"I want to make clear that the timeline was not sufficiently established."

"Yes or no, Mr Aderholt. Did you take command of the investigation?"

"Yes, Mr. McCullough."

"And in the course of that investigation did you do anything that might be considered improper conduct befitting a federal agent?"

"Here it comes," Jeremy grumbled. He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes.

"You knew he was gonna fuck you." She got up to refill her glass.

"No sir, because I assigned the case to my best agent at the time."

"Which agent is that, please? For the record."

"Special Agent Jeremy Ashe."

"And this assignment took place…"

"On May 16th, shortly after we began the investigation."

"Why did you not take this case yourself?"

"With all due respect, Mr. McCullough, I have an entire station to consider, and Jeremy Ashe was assigned an investigation as a competent agent. This was standard protocol."

"Despite the fact that Mr. Ashe has several allegations of misconduct on file?"

"Motherfucker," Jeremy growled. "Those were buried. He gave them my sealed file."

"At the time, I was unaware of the allegations. When I discovered them, I removed Mr. Ashe from the case."

"And the incident on October 26th in Tacoma, where Agent Ashe took over a police standoff under the pretense of the Rallsburg case?"

"Totally unrelated. Mr. Ashe has since been temporarily suspended."

"Well you knew that was coming."

"No kiddin'. Why are we watchin' this again?" Jeremy started on the pizza his sister had brought over. "You're booked all week. You really want to spend your precious time watchin' a trial where we both get fucked?"

"There's somethin' you'll enjoy later. Jump forward about half an hour."

"Jesus Christ, it lasts that long?"

"Have you ever seen a Senate panel interrogate someone? You oughta be grateful Aderholt took your place down there."

He shook his head. "Motherfucker's just coverin' his own ass."

"Sure is, but you got bigger fish to fry. Just jump the damn video."

Jeremy leaned forward and tapped the keyboard a few times.

"...And the Bureau is unable to produce a single second of footage from these so-called 'golems'?"

"As I said, sir, we have no evidence they existed. We've had several medical professionals conclude it was mass-hysteria. Hallucinations spread by panicked people under threat by domestic terrorism."

"Yet there were several police cruisers visibly thrown into the air and rolled away from the scene."

"We believe there was some form of gas explosion, sir. It would also explain the exploded exterior of the bar."

"Not monsters, Mr. Aderholt? You have testimony from more than a dozen officers at the scene."

"And contradictory testimony from the hostages inside the bar. They all deny the presence of any monsters, sir, or this 'flying girl'. Since they were in the best position to see the attacks on the bar, being hostages, I'm inclined to believe them."

"Over the sworn testimony of the Tacoma Police Department, Mr. Aderholt?"

"It goes on for another couple minutes, but you get the idea." Maddie turned off the video and set the laptop aside. "Your girl's safe for now. Aderholt's covering for you both without even knowin' it."

"Anything to make his case go away."

"I thought you weren't actually suspended though? Did that change?"

"Nah, they just got me chained to the desk."

"Ah, in-school suspension."

"Cute from the girl who got it every month in high school."

"Anything for my fans," Maddie grinned. "Lani back to work yet?"

"Nope. Still stuck in PT. It's boring as fuck there. And I'm supposed to work a drug case from my desk somehow. Fuckin' six bodies and a shitload of meth from fuck knows where. Abandoned building, no witnesses, death by burnin', slicin' and shootin'. Fuckin' nightmare."

"Jesus."

"I'm just actin' as liaison though. Hook up the Seattle detective who landed it with our tech where he needs it. So I'm a glorified errand boy."

"Gives you a good excuse though, don't it?"

"To what?"

"Hop all over Seattle, you amateur." Maddie shrugged. "You gotta find the Winscombe girl, and you gotta find Jackie. If you've got Seattle detectives callin' you for tech support, you oughta offer them house calls. You frame it right, there ain't no way they can keep you at your desk without pissin' off a whole lot of people. The Seattle mayor's under pressure to handle the increase in gang killings."

"Pressure from who?"

"Someone in the governor's office who got a friendly tip," she said nonchalantly. Jeremy grinned. "There's enough political clout in play that as long as you keep quiet, no one will bat an eye. Aderholt gives you the tiniest bit of lip, you call me."

Maddie gave him a sideways look. "Get out there and find her, Jeremy. Figure this out. Don't you stop til you do. This shit's just heatin' up, whatever it is."

Jeremy had a way back into the field, but he still wasn't sure where to go next. The manhunt for Dan Rhodes and Boris Morozov had still turned up nothing from their Canadian friends. Jeremy couldn't contact them or get up there himself, since he was strictly limited to Seattle for the time being. At best, he might be able to swing trips out to Tacoma and Olympia, but he knew Aderholt was itching for any opportunity to punish him further.

His best bet was the phone number. He'd texted Hailey back a dozen times without a response, picking up a new burner phone for each one. He knew better than anyone that it wouldn't stop the Bureau from noticing a few texts, but it'd stall them long enough that he might find her first.

As soon as I find them, I tell the chief everything I know. Just so long as Jackie's safe. Jeremy had priorities, but he was still an agent. Whatever the fuck was going on with Hailey Winscombe and the rest of the Rallsburg survivors, it concerned the whole country.

No, the whole fuckin' world. This is some next-level shit.

He ignored the cases he was nominally working. Gangs murdered each other; that was just normal operating procedure. The police could handle it just fine. He logged every request to come assist and carefully timed his comings and goings from the field office to match, but as soon as he hit the streets he was on a completely different track.

Every hint of strangeness, every weird report or unnatural sighting. He even listened to the goddamn crazies hotline for tips. If it sounded abnormal, he was there. Off the books, no badge and plainclothes, but he was there. He listened to each of 'em, and gave them the most police help they'd probably ever seen in their whole goddamn lives.

Not that he was a cop, of course. He made damn sure none of them thought he was a cop, in case they tried to run it back to the legit police.

It took Jeremy a week to finally strike gold.

A kid doing a magic show, of all things. The tip line recording was a shrill old woman trilling about a 'warlock of Satan's highest order', which Jeremy had overheard a couple coworkers laughing about. It was practically on his way to Lani's PT place with the agency, so he decided to stop by the guy's next show for a few minutes. Might give Lani something to laugh about.

It wasn't exactly discreet, in spite of the attitude he'd seen from Winscombe. He filed in with the rest of the crowd into the city library, which had a small-ish theater for community productions. Jeremy stood in the back corner where he could see everything clearly. Up front on stage was a wooden easel with a sign, declaring "THE MARVELOUS MAGIC OF MR. HUDSON" in bold letters, with a stereotypical top hat and sparkling black wand underneath.

Jeremy got one or two furtive glances from the crowd, but he couldn't tell if they were because he was the famous Agent Ashe, or just because he looked painfully out of place attending a random kid's magic show in the Tacoma suburbs. As the lights flickered, everyone's attention returned to the front, and he stopped worrying about it.

"Welcome!" boomed a deep, theatrical from the stage. Kid's got some pipes.

Smoke billowed onto the stage from both directions as the curtain rose. A silhouette strode forward from center stage, and as he walked the smoke around him seemed to fly away, as if he had an invisible force field pushing it aside. As he reached the front of the stage, the fog seemed to spill out onto the floor, dissipating just before it reached the front row.

If Jeremy hadn't seen the same stunt in the bar a week earlier, and much more intense, he might've been impressed.

I need to talk to this kid.

The "Marvelous Mr. Hudson" went through a few magic routines while Jeremy tried not to get bored. He'd never cared for magicians, and the kid didn't really have a well-developed theatrical presence. High school plays maybe, but Mr. Hudson wasn't ready for the prime time by a long shot. Even the idea that some of his stuff might not actually be tricks wasn't enough to hold Jeremy's attention.

As Jeremy scanned the crowd, though, he saw something that could be interesting. Or fuckin' alarming.

A few others were standing as well, since all the seats were taken. Apparently Mr. Hudson was a big draw in the area. One man in particular, though, didn't seem awed or entertained. Jeremy couldn't really blame him for getting bored, but something else about the guy seemed off. He was concentrating very hard on something, and Jeremy couldn't figure it out.

Is he that into figuring out magic tricks?

"For my next illusion, I require a volunteer! You there! Dare you brave the mystical for a chance at the sublime?"

An excited young woman got to her feet and sprang onto the stage, breathless.

Hudson glanced around dramatically. "I'm terribly sorry, I seem to have forgotten your chair." He flourished his fingers, pointing back at the crowd. The woman's cheap wooden chair floated into the air and landed on the stage with a thump, sliding across the smooth stage to halt right next to him. "I hope this will do, my dear."

The crowd burst into applause. Okay, that wasn't bad. Jeremy ignored whatever Hudson's trick was, focused on the man in the other corner. He was fiddling with something in his jacket. A gun? Holy shit, they wouldn't, would they?

No, it didn't have the right shape for a gun. Jeremy forced his heart rate back down. The man turned slightly, and as Jeremy got a better look at his face, he recognized him.

It was the same man who'd been guarding Hailey in the bar.

Jesus Christ, they really might.

Jeremy's hand went for his own holster, reassuring himself it was still there, but the man didn't seem to be making a move. The show kept going, heedless of the sudden danger in the room.

Do I arrest him? I don't actually have jurisdiction here, and I'm not even supposed to be investigating this case. If I tap him, I'm gonna be fucked even more than I already am.

Follow the guy, maybe get an ID on the guys from the bar. Maybe catch a killer or potential killer. Or stay here, talk to Hudson, get in contact with Hailey and find Jackie, and get some fuckin' answers.

Whatever he's got in his pocket is important. I need it. Split the difference.

Jeremy had picked up a few tricks of his own over the years. If he was gonna pull this off, he needed to move now.

While the show kept going, he exited the rear door on his side of the theater, and crossed over to the opposite door immediately. The guy was already leaving, hands in his pockets. Jeremy only had a few seconds.

Fuck it.

Keeping his face turned up toward the sign for the bathroom, Jeremy walked straight into the man. As they both stumbled, Jeremy's hand snuck into the suddenly handless pocket. There was a small, rough object inside, like a stone. He didn't have time to look at it. It went straight into his own jacket.

"Sorry," he grunted. The man grumbled something rude, but kept walking nonetheless, beelining for the sunlight outside the front door. He hadn't noticed the stone vanish from his heavy jacket. Jeremy continued right into the bathroom, into the first unoccupied stall and locked the door tight. And fuck you too, Skinny, sayin' I could never actually make a pull.

He pulled out the stone. It was a strange rock, with most of the surface almost featureless and gray. The same as the fuckin' monsters, Jeremy realized with a shock. It was the same plain gray they'd been made of — the ones that hadn't grown straight out of the asphalt, anyway. This stone was a bit different though, as if it had been merged with a different rock. Patches of purple crystal filled in the gaps, giving it the rough texture he'd originally felt.

As Jeremy touched it, he felt something. A kind of pulling, as if the stone wanted something from him. He recoiled and dropped it on the bathroom floor. It sat quite innocently, just a strange-looking rock, not moving or throwing police cruisers across the streets.

Gingerly, he reached down and touched it again. It still pulled, but Jeremy overcame his revulsion and picked it up. He prayed he wasn't about to be corrupted somehow by it, like it were made of evil itself. Suddenly, the wailing old woman on the tip line didn't seem quite so crazy.

But as he thought about how much he wished it would stop, it did. Quite suddenly, quite extraordinarily, the sensation stopped. The stone sat in his palm, still strange and unsettling, but no longer actively reaching for his soul.

Or I'm just being insane. Making this all sound mystical and shit. I'm turning into Lani.