March Into Hell (2 page)

"Incidents?"

"You must know what I'm referring to. You swoop in and save the day. You saved a baby with CPR, a child from being hit by a car, a teen from getting shot by an off-duty officer." She paused and when he didn't fill the silence, she continued, "I could go on and on. I cross checked your name in the paper archives with a source with the police filled me in on some that never made the news. How do you explain the string of incidents?"

"I don't understand why an explanation is necessary. Why are you asking?"

"Are you a religious man, Mark?"

Taken aback, he darted another glance at Lily. She was the religious one. In spite of her tendency to dress as a free spirit, she practiced her religion with a quiet devotion Mark admired, even if he didn't understand it. "What business is it of yours?"

"Do I hear defensiveness in your tone?"

"I have no idea what the hell you hear. I have dinner getting cold, so if you don't have something else you needed, I'd like to eat it."

"Do you work other miracles?"

"Listen, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"In the report on the baby who almost drowned, it says that there had been no heartbeat and you had to do CPR. Within a few minutes, the baby was crying and in fact, suffered no lasting damages."

"Yes. So?"

"Do you realize that nearly all children who require CPR end up dying or are left with severe neurological damages?"

"No."

"It's true, but the little girl you saved, Christy, is just fine. I spoke to her mother this morning."

He had never learned the outcome of that save, but hoped she'd recovered. The infant had appeared okay when he'd last seen her just before his arrest, but he knew that sometimes there were complications. "That's great."

"It is, and I have several more incidents that you were involved with that could be considered miracles."

Mark leaned forward, his elbows on the desk as he held the phone to his ear. "What are you implying?"

"Mark, do you feel like you have a connection to God?"

His mouth dropped open and saw Lily's eyes shoot up in question. He looked away. "Ms. Jeffries, I think you need to find another story, and I need to eat before my meal is ice cold." Ignoring her protests, he clicked the phone off.
Scrubbing his hands down his face, he sighed and bent his head, massaging the muscles at the back of his neck
.
What a nut.

"You okay?"

Mark let out a sharp chuckle. "Yeah, that reporter had some crazy notion that I worked miracles."

Lily stood and began pulling the cartons of food out of the paper bag. She shrugged. "What's so crazy about that? Isn't that pretty much what you do with your camera?"

"Okay, I admit the camera is probably something miraculous, but I can't tell her about that, and I'm just a regular guy, so yeah, it is a crazy notion."

Lily opened a
carton
and pulled out an egg roll, pointing it at him. "You don't give yourself enough credit." She bit into the roll with a grin. After chewing a few seconds, she said, "I believe in miracles, and I believe that some people are special."

Mark waved his hand in front of his face as the scent filled the room. "Yeah, well, that reporter was just looking for a story. The last thing I want is to be someone's story." He leaned over and grabbed a
carton
, opened it and snagged a chunk of chicken. The rich sauce flowed over his tongue and his stomach growled in response. 

Lily chatted while they ate, never seeming to mind that he wasn't much at making small talk. After finishing his fried rice and cashew chicken, he headed to the dark room so she could eat her second smelly egg roll without gagging him.

She called after him, "You don't need my help?"

Mark turned and walking backwards, smiled. "No, but if you want to hang out and see what develops, that's fine." He'd welcome some company tonight and hoped he didn't sound as lonely as he felt. He didn't wait to hear her answer. If she was here when he came out, great. If not, well, he'd be fine. 

He swallowed his disappointment when he came out with the photos in hand only to find a note from Lily saying she'd forgotten about her church choir rehearsal. The photos were some of the worst he'd developed after September 11th and the Wrigley Field incident, and he'd hoped to have her insight. Not that he could tell her much until tomorrow anyway. 

Tossing the photos on the desk, he flipped the page on the appointment book. Would she be in early? She had a couple coming in for engagement photos at ten, followed by a location shoot at one. He had an actor coming in for new head-shots at one, and later, was holding a go-see for some models for an upcoming job for a national ad for a major retailer.

He picked up his special photos. There were three of them, but all were darker than he would have desired.  Most of the people in them were hidden by robes. They had a surreal quality, as if taken on a movie set.

In the center of one was a tall cross, and he thought the photos were of a church, but there were none of the other things, just the cross, the hooded people, and in the last photo, a pale young woman crouched on the floor. She looked tiny, terrified, and nude.

He hoped it was a movie set. That would explain the robes as costumes. There was a studio out in Cicero. He'd been there before, taking stills during filming of some television shows. Peering closely at the photos, he couldn't determine if the background matched the studio. Of course, if it was a new set, he wouldn't be able to tell from the photos anyway.

* * *

Mark paced the office. He had rushed down from his loft over an hour ago, only to realize that it was still only eight-thirty a.m. and Lily wouldn't be arriving until a little later. While trying to pass the time, he caught up on some overdue book work but now he was finished, and getting impatient.

The dream last night had left him shaken and he needed advice. Lily was good at interpreting clues in his dreams. She was creative and tended to have a unique perspective.

It was his nature to look at the photos as literally black and white, but she had pointed out that some of the saves he did had repercussions he wouldn't have thought about. Like the time he saved a man from stepping in front of a city bus when the guy hadn't been paying attention, too busy caught up in his cell phone conversation to notice that the walk light had changed. The man was a heart surgeon, and the call had been about a patient. Lily pointed out that by saving him, Mark had potentially saved the dozens of patients that doctor would go on to save in his career. It was mind boggling and he wasn't sure he wanted all that pressure. Other times, he could save someone and down the road, that could cause someone else to die.

Lily called it the ripple effect. Trying to keep all the angles straight made his head spin and it was too complicated to handle alone.

There came a clank and rattle from the front of the building and Mark strode out of the office to the studio area. Lily had her back turned as she re-locked the front door.

"Hey, Lil." He hoped his impatience didn't come through in his tone. She would pick up on that right away. Needing to do something, he began setting up the backdrop she'd mentioned she wanted to use for the first shoot.

"Morning, Mark." She turned towards him, her expression puzzled. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not really." He tightened the handle on the side of the backdrop frame. "I just...I wanted to talk to you about this one." He gave the handle one last turn then motioned towards the office. "I have the photos on the desk, if you want to see."

She went ahead of him, but looked over her shoulder, her brow furrowed. "You sound scared.  What was the dream about?"

"Scared doesn't begin to cover it." Mark sprawled in the swivel chair behind his desk, waiting until Lily had taken her seat before sliding the photos he'd developed last evening across to her side.

 He recounted the details of the dream, suppressing a shudder at the vision. It was so clear in his mind. He leaned across the desk when he finished sharing the nightmare. "A...a ritual murder, Lily! How can I stop something like this? I didn't even get a good look at where it takes place. Just a quick glimpse of a street sign and the interior of what looked like a warehouse. And a damn cult--can't forget that."

He lowered his head, elbows propped, and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't have enough details! What the hell does it want me to do?" He slapped a hand down on the photos in frustration and leaned back.

"I don't know." Lily's brow furrowed in concern. "Maybe you can call Jessie? She might know something about cults. At the very least, she might know which warehouses on West Ohio are abandoned and give you a location to start."

Mark sighed and said, "Yeah, I guess. Doing that opens a whole new can of worms, but I need information, and she might have it. Thanks." Lily was right. While he hated involving the police and specifically, Jessie, it didn't seem like he had much choice. If he was going to stop this, he needed some help.

Lily reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Promise me, whatever you do, you'll be careful, Mark."

* * *

"Come on, Jess, just hear me out," Mark pleaded, his eyes skimming the photo, ever hopeful that some new clue would turn up. He held the phone with his shoulder as he flipped through the three pictures. Over the years he had found that often clues showed up in one photo and not the others. It was like the camera recorded different points of view. Nothing caught his eye this time. Of course he wouldn't get that lucky.  He sat forward in his desk chair and held the phone to his ear, drumming his fingers on the desk. "I just need--"

"Listen, Mark. You know I'd help you if I could, but this isn't my investigation. I could get into a lot of trouble for leaking information. Plus, I'm up to my eyeballs in paperwork on another case."

"I...I know you're busy and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." He fidgeted with a pencil, then lowered his voice, almost pleading, "Come on...for old time's sake?"

There was a long pause before she sighed and grudgingly gave him the little bit of information she had. He jotted down the details about several empty warehouses that she knew off the top of her head. Her knowledge of the religious sects was a bit sketchier.

"We're investigating one cult that we suspect has been running drugs and a money laundering operation. They don't seem too interested in the religious aspect; they seem to use that as front to recruit members."

Mark shook his head even though she couldn't see him. "What I saw was more than a show. These guys were serious about what they did. Or rather, what they are going to do." The whole time frame perspective always confused him when he spoke about it. None of the events depicted had taken place yet, except in his dreams. "Anyway, thanks for your help. I appreciate it."

There was silence on the other end, and Mark wondered if she was as reluctant to hang up as he was. When Lily had mentioned calling Jessie, he couldn't help the thrill of anticipation that shot through him. He'd have a reason to call her...to hear her voice again. 

Jessie sighed, her breath loud in his ear. "I wish I could help you more, but as long as your gift has to remain a secret, there's nothing more I can do. Can you call Jim with this? Would he be able to help?"

Mark tossed the pencil onto the desk. "I thought about calling him, but this isn't exactly a national crisis. I'm pretty sure it would fall under the jurisdiction of local law enforcement--and you know my history with Chicago P.D."

"But he's still heading up the FBI office, right?"

"Yes, that's true." 

"Just because he's CIA doesn't mean he can't act in the capacity of FBI. Give him a call. It couldn't hurt."

"I don't know."

"Listen Mark, I know you still don't like talking to the guy. I
get
that. But you agreed to keep him informed if you see anything that could be a threat."

"Yes, I did, but not garden variety threats, it's meant for national security threats." He slid the top photo to the side, and studied the next one of the girl strung up on the cross. "As horrible as
this
is, it's not a national threat."

"National threat or not, you should tell him because you could be in danger trying to stop this. You are an asset now. His asset. It's his job to keep you safe."

"He'll just tell me not to save the girl." He had come to respect Jim despite their rocky history where the other man had been head of the CIA team who had interrogated Mark for over a year. "He'll say it's not worth the risk."

"In a way he's right, you know. You could potentially save thousands if there is ever a repeat of 9/11, but if something happens to you..."

He blew out a breath in exasperation. "So you think I should just let her die? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, I'm just saying that you should get some help."

It was useless. At an impasse, Mark ended the awkward moment. "I'll think about it. And Jess, thanks again."

"You're welcome. Just don't let on where you got the cult info, or I'll...I'll..."

Mark grinned, recognizing her playful tone. "You'll what?"

"You won't have to worry about the cult because I'll crucify you myself."

Mark laughed."Thanks. I owe you one."

"You're damn right you do. More than one." Her voice softened. "And Mark? Stay safe, okay?"

CHAPTER TWO

The first warehouse Mark checked later in the evening was dark and locked up tight. It didn't look like anything could happen there anyway. At least, not in the time frame Mark had figured out. It was already eight-twenty and if a ritual was planned, it would have to get going pretty soon if it was going to happen tonight. If only he had a name. Why couldn't the dream have provided some clue as to who the girl was? Sighing, Mark pulled out his flashlight and checked the photos. He still had hopes that maybe, somehow, they had changed. Unfortunately, he still found grisly pictures of the soon to be dead girl.

The night was dark with heavy clouds scuttling across the sky and a cold, damp wind whistled through the alley. Mark hunched into his jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets as he hurried to the next address on his list. Approaching the building, he paused when he heard muffled voices, laughter and a popping noise float through a broken window. He peeked between the shards of glass and spotted a small group gathered around a burning trash can. The men passed a bottle around.