5th Pentagram: The sequel to the #1 Hard Boiled Mystery, 9th Circle (Book 3 of the Darc Murders Trilogy) (Book 3 of the Darc Murder Series) (27 page)

Besides, there were some advantages to having your partner go first in a big dark place with lots of nooks and crannies where scary things could lurk and hide. Until you started thinking about what could be sneaking up behind.

“What’s the plan? I mean, walking around this awesome railroad crossing-area-thingy sounds like a lot of fun and all, but…”

Trey cut himself off with a startled yell as a cat darted out from beneath one of the railroad cars. At least, he was pretty sure it was a cat. The other options were less appealing. Did rats grow that big?

“We are going to the location indicated by the positioning of the objects in the office,” Darc replied after a moment of staring at Trey. What was that for? It wasn’t like Darc had never heard him yell before, especially in places like this.

“Okay, fine, but…” Trey thought this through. There had been something bugging him about that whole office thing from the get-go. “… don’t you think that all that stuff back at the Mayor’s office was… I dunno… a bit
much
?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? You mean like
yes, I agree with you
, or
yes, that’s an interesting idea, keep going
kind of thing?”

Darc passed the last of the cars in the row and turned to the left, heading out to the huge space in front of them that was crisscrossed with tracks and abandoned cars. He spoke over his shoulder as he moved.

“The office was a message sent by the killer.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning that he has invited us here and is expecting us,” Darc clarified.

“Oh, great. Sounds perfect,” Trey grumbled. “You do remember what happened the last time we got a personal invite from a serial killer, right? We went to an unholy funhouse of death and I got a corpse thrown at my head.”

Darc marched forward, not responding to Trey’s litany of why-this-was-a-bad-idea. He wasn’t sure why he wasted his breath. It’s not like it was going to change Darc’s mind or anything. Nothing short of a nuclear explosion would, in Trey’s experience. Well, that and Mala. Or maybe Janey.

“You’re sexist, you know that, Darc?” Trey jumped over one of the railroad tracks, landing weird and twisting his ankle a bit. Not enough to incapacitate him, just enough to piss him off with every step. “You think you could maybe slow down a bit? No? Right. I forgot. We’re too busy goose-stepping our way to our own demise.”

And then Darc stopped just before entering a huge open area. There was one car, right in the middle of what Trey now recognized was a gigantic circle, with five cars placed around the circumference. Five.

Aw,
dammit
.

“It’s a big huge pentagram, isn’t it?” Trey said, looking at the large open space in front of him. “That’s what it is. A pentagram made up of railroad cars. And we’re still not calling for backup, are we?”

Once again, the bald detective didn’t answer. But Trey was pretty sure that was just because, for once, Darc didn’t have to correct his partner.

* * *

Janey knew that going home was the right thing.

It made sense. Janey had school tomorrow, and she had to be there. Had to, had to. Otherwise, bad things would happen. Plus, Mala would get in trouble if Janey didn’t go and if that mean, nasty man at that one ugly building found out that she had gone someplace scary.

Janey thought about that and wondered for just a second what that man would act like if he ever went someplace scary like Darc and Trey and Mala and sometimes even Janey did. He would probably cry the whole time.

Popeye said something naughty about what the man would do in his pants. It made Janey laugh. Mala looked back in the mirror and smiled at her. Janey smiled back and then rubbed Popeye on that spot behind his ear that he loved. Sometimes Popeye could be so funny, even when he was saying things that he wasn’t supposed to.

But the real problem with going back to the apartment and not with Darc was that Mala wasn’t happy. Janey could tell. There were rays of colored light that kept coming off of her in waves. Every time Mala sighed or looked at her phone or checked her watch, the lights shifted around and told Janey that Mala was sad.

And Janey didn’t want Mala to be sad.

Especially not when Janey wanted to go anyway. She didn’t want to make Darc nervous, which is why she didn’t ask to go at first. She could see that Darc was worried about her and Mala.

That was new. And she could see that it was a good thing, like learning to share your toys.

But sometimes you shouldn’t share your toys. Like if a stranger-danger grownup comes over and wants to play with you. That was not a time to share.

So there were times that you weren’t supposed to follow the rules that were important rules. So even though it was good that Darc cared, maybe this was not a good time to listen to him when he told them to go away.

Besides, even though Darc was learning things, sometimes he still needed help. Janey was a good helper. Her mommy and daddy had always told her so. Mala did too. Even Mrs. Kingston, who sometimes got disappointed in Janey, told her she was a good helper. So it only made sense that she should go and help.

Now she just had to find a way to tell Mala.

There was one way that might work.

Janey started drawing badges all over the windows. She drew one after another after another and then tapped Mala on the shoulder and pointed to them.

Mala turned her head and saw the drawings. Even though they were kind of drippy and messy, Janey could tell that she knew what they were.

“Oh, Janey. He doesn’t want us there. And we shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t be there.”

Popeye said that he had told her so, and besides, he wanted a bedtime story. Janey told him to hush and it was way too late for a story anyhow. Once Popeye realized he wasn’t getting a story out of it, he changed his tune pretty fast.

But looking back at Mala, Janey just asked using her eyes. She was pretty good at it. Sometimes Mala knew exactly what she was asking without Janey even drawing a picture. And right now she was telling her that Darc needed their help.

She was also telling Mala that she would be good and stay in the car, but she wasn’t saying that as loud, because she wasn’t really sure she was going to. If Darc needed her help, there was no way she was staying put.

But Mala knew that.

“I know, Janey, I know, but…” Mala scrunched her face up. “It’s hard to explain, but I just want to make sure that we stay together.”

Janey knew that, but it wasn’t the right answer. Mala understood it wasn’t the right answer. So she just kept looking at Mala, and pointed at the badges again.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Mala asked.

Janey smiled and shook her head no. Mala was super smart. Almost as smart as Darc. What was even weirder was that Popeye seemed excited to go. That
never
happened.

Now she had to show Mala where they were supposed to go. Pulling out a piece of paper, Janey began drawing a picture of where Darc and Trey were.

She just hoped they got there in time.

CHAPTER 19

The fabric of glowing logic wove itself about the landscape around them. Darc could see clearly that there were several victims, including the Mayor, all trapped somewhere within those boxcars. Five marking each of the points of the star in the pentagram, one in the center.

Just as clear was the fact that this was a trap.

It was a trap that was unapologetic. There was no hiding that detailed piece of information. It had been clear in the office. It was clear here in the train yard.

Darc knew. The killer knew that Darc knew. That had been his intent. He knew that Darc would recognize the danger and come anyway. And Darc understood that there was little chance that they would be able to evade every part of that threat.

Darc calculated the probability of him and Trey coming out alive at 37 percent. The likelihood of them coming out unscathed was a statistical zero.

This killer was intelligent. He planned things out with precision, but remained flexible enough to change when things were not following the path he had laid out. He had help, possibly in the form of multiple disciples who were willing to follow his orders no matter how grisly they might become.

What’s more, based off of the information Darc had gleaned from the Mayor’s office, the killer was here. If not within sight of the area, close enough to be able to both monitor and shift the pieces that were in play.

Because as brazen as the invitation had been, the killer had left out anything that might help Darc ascertain the exact nature of the trap and neutralize it. He was operating with a plethora of information, but a dearth of useful intel.

The logical assumption would be that the center car would hold the Mayor. But something about that assessment rang false, the logic threads glowing a dark orange. The Mayor would be in one of the outer cars.

As they neared the first of them, Darc could see that every section of train was a typical boxcar. The one that they were approaching was not on a track.

Getting even closer, small indicators around the car swirled into Darc’s consciousness, bringing with them bits of gleaming information. The boxcar was suspended on blocks, one positioned on each of the corners.

But there was something else that demanded Darc’s attention, a thread that shone a brilliant red. There were depressions in the earth surrounding the boxcar, ones that made no sense when put in the context of a railway.

Trey started to approach the car, holding up his flashlight in one hand, his pistol in the other. Darc put out his arm to halt his partner’s progress.

“Stop.”

Trey ceased moving with no hesitation. “Hey. Don’t have to tell me twice.” He glanced from Darc to the car and back again. “Is it booby trapped?”

Darc nodded his head once, and from what he could tell, Trey stopped breathing. It would be unfortunate if his partner were to lose consciousness, so Darc clarified.

“Do not get any closer to the car.”

“Right.”

Darc bent down, examining every inch of the bottom edge of the boxcar. It appeared that he had found the nature of the trap, but ascertaining the trigger was the most important part of the operation.

There. Along the side of one of the blocks, almost obscured by the machinery, was a thin metallic filament. Either through the use of a trip wire, or possibly a pressure plate, as soon as Darc and Trey entered the boxcar, it would trigger an electric charge that would lead… somewhere. The paths tangled up, searching for the elusive clues.

Darc crouched down, looking for a way to detach or sever the filament to prevent any charge from passing through it. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, knowing the wood would not react in any way to the metal wire. It would take steadiness of hand to do this properly. But as he peered closer, another stray thread of logic washed across his mental pathways, alerting him to an unseen danger.

This filament was a decoy.

Following the wire back, Darc traced it to a large pack of C4. If Darc had pulled the wire out or cut it in any fashion, the entire trap would have sprung, destroying the boxcar and anything in the near vicinity. Including Darc and Trey.

It also would have set off a chain reaction that would have detonated the additional explosives in each one of the depressions around the car. Whether or not that would then spread to the other five containers was not clear.

Trey’s eyes followed Darc’s movements, landing on the brick of explosives. “Is that what I think it is?” he groaned. “Seriously? Could we not have a serial killer that likes flowers or something? Why is it always blades and blood and things blowing up?” He threw up his hands. “Why can’t it ever be good stuff? Surprise! You hit a trip wire and released a litter of puppies!”

Darc continued following the trail of wires leading from the C4 up to the doorway of the boxcar. Whether it was attached to a trip wire or a pressure plate was irrelevant at this point. Severing the wire should allow them to enter without fear of explosion.

As long as they survived the severing, that was.

Darc pulled out a pocketknife and cut the wire without hesitation. Trey followed the movement and barked out, “Hold on! Was that dangerous?”

“We are intact and the C4 did not explode,” Darc answered. “Therefore, it was not dangerous.”

“But it could have been? Did you really just cut a wire that could have blown us to hell?”

“I calculated the risk at 14.7 percent.”

“That’s a pretty high percentage when death’s on the table, dude,” Trey answered, his volume increasing. Seeing as how they were not in a place that would require additional decibels for Darc to hear him, it was feasible that Trey was upset. Perhaps more information would calm him.

“The probability of death if we went in with the explosive intact was 99.9.”

“So how about we don’t go in? What about that option, huh?” Trey grabbed his hair and paced back and forth. “Or, I don’t know, maybe we wait for backup. Like with the bomb squad or something?”

Darc squatted back down and pointed to the C4. Back behind the explosive, a timer counted down. It currently read four minutes and eighteen seconds.

“Sonofa…” Trey breathed. He looked around at the other cars. “Does that mean…?”

“All of the cars are more than likely similarly rigged. We do not know which ones contain corpses and which houses the Mayor.” The lines continued to writhe around, looking for additional clues to add to the computations. But behind it all was a pulsating urgency. They had to move. Now.

Darc sprang to his feet, running up to the entrance of the car. The sliding door was rusty and the metal screamed as Darc and Trey moved it to the side.

The car was empty.

“What the hell?” Trey shouted, peering into the dark metal rectangle, dimly lit by the flashing beam of his handheld light.

But the pathways of logic had already begun to congeal. Darc knew why this container had been left empty.

It was not a good thing.

* * *

Mala raced to the Industrial District, shooting down the 5 as fast as she could without risking attention from the highway patrol. She might be able to get out of a ticket with her ID, but it would result in losing precious seconds.