Page 73 of Love Me Darkly
“And the Shepherd?” Williams asked. “What do we know about him?”
Smith shook his head. “Almost nothing. To Caleb, he is a figure talked about but almost never seen. His orders are passed down by the Sovereigns and Harbingers, and the Acolytes are rarely even privileged to be in the same room with him. But he’s their spiritual leader. He leads them in special rituals, sacrifices, and direct initiations into the inner circle. Like the Sovereigns, he appears at the temple masked and only interacts with those who have been deemed worthy.”
“Okay,” Donovan said, pacing back from the board and then studying it with a hand braced at his jaw. “Now there’s only two things left to figure out. How the hell do we get Jones in, and where in this hierarchy do we think the UNSUB falls?”
Smith looked to Mateo then, clearly ready to give up his position as the center of attention. He had spent five hours interrogating Caleb and looked like he’d had more than his fill of talking. Mateo unfolded himself from the chair and accepted the marker from Smith. He snatched off the cap and made three asterisks on the board—one near the Sovereigns, one near the Benefactor and one next to the label of the Shepherd.
“I’ll answer your second question first,” he said, tapping the marker at the bottom of the pyramid where Smith had scrawled ACOLYTES. “We know it can’t be one of them. They’re all too young and broke. The profile indicates the UNSUB is a man of means in his mid to late forties. We know he’s wealthy and connected, so not your usual target of a cult.” He then drew an X through the names of the associates. “And we count out the three stooges. Now that we’re forced to accept the ritualistic nature of the murders, we know it can’t be them. Whoever murdered those women sacrificed them to Azrael, which means the UNSUB is a true believer. He drank the Kool-aid.”
“Or,” Donovan said, inclining his head and squinting at the board. “He’s making the Kool-aid.”
Mateo drew a large circle around the Benefactor and the Shepherd. “Yes … so that leaves only these two.”
“We can’t ignore what Suede said,” Donovan reminded him. “He told us Korenic is known to butcher his victims. He even mentioned bathtubs and severed limbs. The M.O. fits.”
Mateo shook his head. “Without a full accounting of Korenic’s kills, we don’t have a victimology. Also, there’s something else … something I didn’t want to mention until I was certain. I needed to make sure my memories were actually memories and not dreams.”
Smith peered at him warily. “What is it?”
“The Breath of Azrael. I’m fairly certain the UNSUB had it in his system when he … when he murdered Mari. When he attacked me.”
“Fuck,” Smith whispered.
Williams held a hand over her mouth with wide eyes, while Jones stared down at his hands.
“How can you be sure?” Darcy asked.
“He was strong. Stronger than a normal man. He pinned me down, and I couldn’t breathe from the force of it. He didn’t respond to any of the physical pain I subjected him to, and he kept chanting, just like the guy who attacked me in the warehouse district. Blood and breath. Over and over. He said some other creepy shit I thought was just the rambling of a psychopath. But when I think over it now, it sounded a lot like religious doctrine. Veil doctrine.”
Jones glanced up at the whiteboard. “So, what does it mean?”
“It means that he is likely our UNSUB,” Mateo replied, drawing several circles around The Shepherd. “Think about it. Korenic and the UNSUB don’t share power, they consolidate it. Korenic is a believer, but concerns himself with the running of the operation that funds his lifestyle and provides capital for The Veil. The Shepherd leads the flock and uses Korenic’s business to funnel in his sacrifices and the drugs. He’s probably hooked on the stuff, just like his followers. Then there’s Valemont and Vestra. Everything connected to Valemont concerns the trafficking ring. Vestra’s interests are all tied up in The Veil. They’re a perfect partnership, because while they have common interests, they are content to attend to their own wants and needs. It might be too soon to call it, but I’m counting on the wiretap to shed some light on the situation. We should be able to confirm the identity of the UNSUB fairly soon. Now, about Jones…”
Every eye in the room swiveled to Jones, who gave them a shaky smirk. His demeanor had changed throughout this meeting, and Mateo began to see the fissures in his resolve. He had insisted on going through with the undercover operation, but seemed anxious now that he could see with his own eyes what he was stepping into.
“Smith, how much longer before you think Caleb will agree to act as Jones’s sponsor? We can’t get the kid in without him.”
Smith lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if making calculations. “A day, maybe two. Gotta lean on him a little harder.”
“I’m giving you twenty-four hours starting first thing in the morning. According to the dark web chatter Darcy uncovered, whatever they’re planning is happening soon. We can’t afford to miss this chance to get someone on the inside.”
Smith glanced at his watch and heaved a tired sigh. Mateo wasn’t fooled by the slumped shoulders or haggard expression as he stood and yanked on his jacket. The man’s eyes were glittering from the thrill of the hunt. He’d have Caleb singing in twelve hours rather than twenty-four.
“Guess I’d better get some sleep,” he declared before leaving without a look back. “Good night.”
Mateo moved on. “Williams, gather everything we have and write the proposal for an internal case review on the undercover op. I want to read it before you send it to Carlisle. I trust you to make sure its airtight. I don’t want there to be any room for the brass to reject it. Drive home the short timetable we’re on, why the infiltration is necessary sooner rather than later, and why Jones is the only viable candidate. Include the specific objectives of the mission and everything we’ve already exhausted through surveillance, and talk up what experience Jones does have. Make it good.”
Williams took up the recorder with Caleb’s confession on it and a stack of files. “I’ll have it done tonight.”
“Jones, Donovan will prep you for the psych evaluation. They’re going to want to do a full workup—stress tolerance, mental resilience, trauma assessment. I want you ready.”
Donovan clapped Jones’s skinny shoulder with his large hand. “Come on, kid. I’ll grill you over a late dinner.”
The two set off, leaving him alone with Darcy. Mateo sank into a chair near hers and studied her in silence. She looked exhausted as she took off her cat-eye frames and rubbed her eyes. Mateo wondered if she ever slept. She was almost always the first person here in the morning and the last to leave. Sometimes she remained overnight, living on a diet of Cheetos and Red Bull while lurking in dark web forums and taking the occasional break to play HALO. He studied the sleeve of her tattoos, now familiar with the Alice in Wonderland motif. The Mad Hatter sat as the centerpiece, surrounded by Alice, the White Rabbit, The Queen of Hearts, and the rest. Clocks, aces of spaces, and clubs and hearts and diamonds were interspersed with checkered tiles.
Donovan had confided that before she was recruited by the FBI, Darcy had found herself on numerous watchlists for her dark web activity. A black hat hacker with her kind of skills had turned out to be a valuable asset to the bureau, and when they’d finally caught her, they’d offered her a job instead of a prison sentence. Mad Hatter had been her alias.
“How are you holding up?” he asked. He’d made a lot of demands of her these past few weeks and felt guilty that it had taken him this long to check in.
