Play with Fire

chapter Forty-One

EIGHT DAYS LATER, the group that Morris privately thought of as his “War Council” met for the last time. The venue, as it had been all week, was a conference room at the Austin DoubleTree Hilton.

Had minutes been kept, they would have shown that those attending were:

- Quincey Morris, whose privately-owned company, QM Reclamations, Inc., had booked the facility.

- Libby Chastain, Mr. Morris’s business partner.

- Special Agents Dale Fenton and Colleen O’Donnell from the FBI’s Behavioral Science section.

- Eleanor Robb, representing an organization informally known as the Sisterhood, of which Ms. Chastain and Agent O’Donnell were both longtime members.

- Malcolm Peters, formerly of the Central Intelligence Agency and now a private consultant.

- Ashley (aka Ashur Badaktu, former resident of Hell), partner of Mr. Peters in every sense of the term.

Morris opened the meeting a little after nine a.m. by looking around the oval conference table and saying, “Not to be unduly dramatic, but this is it.”

Ashley whispered to Peters, “If that’s his idea of undramatic, I’d just love to see what he thinks drama is.”

“If our understanding of the way these people operate is correct, they will hit a house of worship someplace in Austin tonight. Their M.O. – if you’ll pardon me sounding like Jack Webb – is to abduct a clergyman, take him to his church, ritually murder him, and then burn the building down, using state-of-the-art incendiary devices. They have been known to leave traces of black magic behind, but not in all cases. To stop them from succeeding tonight, we have taken what measures we can. On that issue, maybe we should hear from the FBI next.”

Everyone looked toward Fenton and O’Donnell, who sat side-by-side. “We’re here because our boss is persistent,” O’Donnell said. “She persuaded an Assistant Director that the church burnings represent serial homicide, rather than a civil rights matter. Then we received a tip from a usually reliable informant–” she gestured toward Morris “–that the church burners/murderers would strike in Austin next.”

“We’ve got the Austin Police Department on the alert,” Fenton said, “along with the Travis County Sheriff’s office. But–” He looked toward his partner.

“But,” she said, “there are an estimated five hundred to five hundred and fifty houses of worship in the metropolitan area, depending on how you define a ‘church.’ There isn’t enough manpower in the P.D. and Sheriff’s departments combined to put a cop at each one of them – even assuming that they had nothing else to do tonight.”

“And, since this is a town of close to a million people,” Fenton said, “there’s usually plenty of work for the local law on any given night. They’re not gonna treat this like the President’s coming to town – not based on an anonymous tip, even one that comes by way of the Bureau.”

Morris nodded and turned to the woman seated across from Fenton. “Ellie?”

“There’s also the problem that even if the police did turn up in the right place and at the right time, they’re not prepared to defend themselves against the demonic power that the being calling himself Theron Ware can wield,” Ellie Robb said. “These black magicians have avoided confrontations with the law up to this point, but there’s no reason to believe they would be anything but ruthless in dealing with interference. So I’ve been working with Libby and Colleen in an effort to offset their power.”

“We’ve been able to prevail upon twenty-four members of the Sisterhood to put their lives on hold for a week and join us in Austin,” Libby said. “They are all experienced practitioners of white magic. We’ve rented twelve cars, since they’re going to work in teams of two.”

“Assuming we all survive the night, Ellie,” Morris said, “send me the bill for those rental cars, as well as the hotel. I’ll take care of it.”

“No, I don’t think so, Quincey,” Ellie said. “The Sisterhood has a contingency fund for emergencies, and this situation certainly qualifies. Anyway–” She gave him a tight smile “–I expect we all have an equal stake in making sure that the gates of Hell remain closed.”

Libby went on, “Our twenty-four sisters have spent the last several days becoming familiar with the city, and will be mobile at six tonight. In the event that the specific location of the next atrocity is identified, a blanket text will send the address to each car, and the sisters will get there as quickly as they can.”

“Speaking of moving quickly,” Fenton said, “Colleen and I have a car on loan from the local field office. It’s got a siren and flashers, which should get us through traffic faster than otherwise. We’ll get the text if it’s sent, and we’re also gonna monitor the local police radio band.”

“Peters and I will stay here,” Ashley said. “It’s a central location, and I should be able to reach any place in town without too much trouble.” She grinned. “Besides, that means we can f*ck while we’re waiting.”

Among those few humans who knew her, Ashley’s name was rarely used in the same sentence as words like “appropriate.”

“Libby and I will remain here, too” Morris said. “As Ashley said, it’s a central location – unlike my house, which is on the west side of town. I’ve got a few friends on the Austin P.D., and one of them will let me know if anything likely shows up on their radar.”

He stood up. “Thanks, everybody. If we pull this off, I’ll buy all of you breakfast tomorrow morning. If we don’t...” Morris’s face, already serious, became somber. “... then hunger’s likely to be the least of our problems.”

As the others drifted out, Morris went over to a nearby window and looked out at his city. Fenton joined him. After a few moments he said, “Nice day.”

“It usually is, around these parts,” Morris said. “But I hear it might storm later.”