Petrified (8 page)

‘So what did you have for lunch? Come on, tell me the truth.'

There was a pause, and then Ellie said, ‘A Kellogg's cereal bar and half an apple. And a diet Dr Pepper.'

‘OK, fine,' Jenna told her. Maybe a Kellogg's cereal bar and half an apple wasn't a banquet but at least she had eaten something, and she didn't want to make Ellie feel any more stressed about it than she did already. ‘I'll see you when I see you, OK? And don't stay up too late.'

‘Kids today,' said Detective Brubaker, as Jenna hung up. ‘When we were young, my mom put us on the Earring Diet.'

‘Oh yeah? What was that?'

‘You sat down at the table, you said grace, and you ate what was put in front of you. If you didn't, you got a smack round the head, which made your ear ring.'

‘Yeah, those were the days,' said Jenna. ‘If I did that today, I'd have to arrest myself for assault.'

She parked around the corner on Brandywine Street and crossed over North Nineteenth Street to the Nectarine Tower Apartment building. The entire street was already jam-packed with squad cars, ambulances, a van from the medical examiner's office and press trucks. She pushed her way through the crowds and up the steps to the building's main entrance, showing her badge to the two young officers standing in front of the revolving door, although she knew that they knew perfectly well who she was.

Dan was waiting for her in the lobby, talking to the doorman. When it was first opened in 1968, the Nectarine Tower had been the second most fashionable address in Philadelphia, after the Metropolitan, but these days it had a dated, worn-out look about it. The lighting in the marble-floored lobby was dim, and the brown leather couches were sagging, and the bronze finish on the elevator doors was badly discolored. Even the gold braid on the doorman's maroon uniform had started to fray, and he could have used a shave.

‘I've managed to ID them,' said Dan, as Jenna came click-clacking across the lobby. He flipped open his notebook and said, ‘They were two friends from different apartments who used to go up on the roof to smoke, because their wives wouldn't let them do it indoors. Chet Huntley, thirty-nine, and William Barrow, fifty-two. Huntley was an insurance assessor and Barrow was an electrical contractor. As far as I can tell they had nothing in common except that they both enjoyed a cigar and they both supported the Phillies.'

‘Are the witnesses still here?' asked Jenna. ‘This time I need to talk to them.'

‘One of them lives in twenty-one-oh-nine. She's the one who saw the bird-thing the clearest.'

‘The one who thought it looked like Don Rickles?'

‘That's right. Her name's Mary Lugano. The other two live in nineteen-twelve and seventeen-twenty-three respectively. Christine Takenaka and Kenneth Keiller.'

‘Which of them found the bodies?'

‘Mary Lugano and Kenneth Keiller and another resident from twenty-oh-six.'

‘They're OK? They're not in shock or anything?'

‘Lucky for them they didn't really see too much. It was pretty dark, up on the roof, and all they could make out was one of the vic's heads, and a leg, and the floor all covered with blood. They came straight back down and called nine-one-one.'

‘OK,' said Jenna. ‘Let's take a look.'

They went up in the elevator to the twenty-second floor. At the back of the elevator car there was a brown-mottled mirror, and Jenna thought what a mess her hair was, and how tired she looked. These days she found herself wondering more and more frequently why she had chosen to join the police department. Even after all these years, her job frequently gave her horrific nightmares. It had broken up her relationship with Ellie's father Jim, and with several of her closest friends, and she always looked as if she had been dragged backward through a briar patch.

If she quit, though, she knew that she would miss it from the very first day. It was a curse, but it was a calling. It was like being a doctor, or a nun. She had told Sister Mary Emmanuelle that she couldn't understand how she could spend her entire life in prayer, but in reality she
did
understand, only too well. Just like Sister Mary Emmanuelle, she had no choice.

When they reached the twenty-second floor they stepped out of the elevator, crossed the corridor to the stairwell, and climbed up the last flight of stairs. Outside, the roof was brightly lit with portable halogen lamps, and cameras were flashing like summer lightning. Ed Freiburg and two other forensic investigators were waddling around in their noisy blue Tyvek suits, taking photographs and measuring the blood spatter and collecting samples of tissue and skin. Off to the left, two police officers were leaning on the low railing that surrounded the roof, talking to one of the medical examiners and deliberately keeping their backs to the horrors behind them.

The lights of the city twinkled all around them, and a soft damp breeze was blowing. Jenna stepped forward two or three paces, but no further, because of the dark shiny blood that was splashed across the concrete, as if somebody had thrown it from a bucket.

Dan had been right. The two victims had been torn to pieces, but much more explosively than Jenna could have imagined. They reminded her of a young woman who had been hit two years ago by an Acela express locomotive out at Norwood, and whose head had been found seventy-five feet further up the track than her feet, with every other part of her body littered in between. Both Chet Huntley and William Barrow had been ripped apart in a similar way, which indicated that they had been struck by something traveling at an extremely high velocity, and of considerable mass. And at a low angle, too.

Ed Freiburg stood up. His Tyvek suit was smeared with criss-cross patterns of blood, like an action painting. He lifted his glove in greeting when he saw Jenna and he called out, ‘Come around the edge of the roof – that's it, over to your right. There's not too much residue there.' By ‘residue' he meant blood and skin and smashed-apart flesh.

Jenna circled around the roof to the north-east corner, balancing on her toes as delicately as a tightrope walker. Ed Freiburg came over to join her, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. Resting in the right angle between the two low retaining walls was a man's torn-off head. Jenna guessed from his age and appearance that it was William Barrow. He was balding, with gray curly hair, and a bulbous nose. His pale blue eyes were wide open and he was staring upward with a concentrated look on his face as if he were trying to identify the stars.

His torso had been hit so hard that it had burst into pieces, and his skeleton and all of his internal organs had been scattered from one side of the roof to the other, a distance of more than a hundred feet. His feet were lying in the south-west corner, still wearing a pair of brown sneakers, with his shin bones protruding from them like turkey drumsticks.

Chet Huntley's body was spread out diagonally across William Barrow's, from the north-west corner to the south-east, so that between them they formed a grisly X. Where the remains of their two bodies intersected, there was a bloody confusion of ribs and livers and sloppy heaps of intestine. Ed Freiburg's assistants were painstakingly trying to separate them, by hand, and heap them into evidence bags.

‘No sign of the unfortunate Mr Huntley's head,' said Ed Freiburg. ‘Guess it must have bounced clear off of the roof when he was hit. I sent one of my people down to street level to see if they can locate it.'

‘Ever see anything like this before?' Jenna asked him. Unexpectedly, a sharp surge of bile rose up in her throat and she had to cover her mouth with her hand. In spite of the breeze, there was a strong smell of human insides up here on the roof.

‘I once saw a guy who was tied to two automobiles, which then drove off in opposite directions. That was in the days when “Little Nicky” Scarfo was in charge. But I never saw anything like this. These two guys are standing here, having a quiet smoke, when something that must have weighed the best part of seven hundred pounds hits them by surprise at – what? – a hundred and twenty-five miles an hour, at least. Probably a whole lot faster. And simultaneously tears them open, too, with a jagged instrument of some sort, like three baling-hooks.'

‘According to Dan, at least one of the eyewitnesses thinks that it was some kind of massive bird.'

‘Yeah, he told me. But, come on. What kind of bird do we know of that could do this? The giant roc, from
Sinbad the Sailor
? That's the only one I can think of. The roc was supposed to be able to pick up elephants and fly away with them. But here? Tonight? A roc? In Philly? I don't think so.'

‘Two of the witnesses said it had horns and one of them said it had bulging eyes.'

‘Yeah – like that statue we picked up this morning. Dan told me about that, too. He seems to be convinced that there's a link between them. But you don't seriously think so, do you? Whatever that was a statue of, it was carved out of solid limestone. Whatever killed these guys, it was living and breathing and it was plenty mean.'

It was cold and ugly and ill-intentioned
. That was what Sister Mary Emmanuelle had told her.
I felt its malevolence.

NINE

Tuesday, 8:57 p.m.

T
heodor Zauber leaned forward and spoke in a low, confidential voice. ‘You know from your own research about the
Wasserspeier
.'

‘The water-spitters?' Nathan replied. ‘Yes, of course I do. That's the German word for gargoyles.'

‘But how much do you
really
know about them? The gargoyles?'

‘Not a whole lot, I guess. I know that there was a whole plague of them in Europe in the early part of the fourteenth century. They slaughtered sheep and cattle mainly, but they also killed quite a few people, didn't they? Especially little children.'

‘Aha! They killed more than “quite a few”, Professor. It was many hundreds of people, probably thousands, maybe even
tens
of thousands, all across the Netherlands and Germany and Poland and as far east as Russia.'

‘I didn't know that. I've never seen anything about it in any of my textbooks.'

‘That is because nobody would openly say the name of the
Wasserspeier
out loud, for fear that the gargoyles would hear them, and come after them seeking retribution. Gargoyles were said to have unnaturally sensitive hearing. Nobody would even dare to write the name down for fear that they would pick up the scratching of the word
Wasserspeier
with a pen – not that many people could write in those days, only monks. It took my father many years to find out how many thousands of people they massacred, the
Wasserspeier
. But – as you probably
do
know – they disappeared from the face of the earth quite suddenly. In less than a year, almost all of the gargoyles were gone.'

Nathan finished his beer and slowly crushed the can in his fist. ‘That was round about thirteen fifty-something, wasn't it, from what I read? Nobody knows why they disappeared – not for sure, anyhow.'

‘There are many conflicting explanations,' Theodor Zauber agreed. ‘But most religious historians agree that they were finally purged by a select band of priests known as the
Bruderschaft der
Reinheit –
the Brotherhood of Purity.'

‘Really? Who were they?'

‘They were all experienced exorcists, of different nationalities, twenty-one of them in all. They were dispatched by the Vatican to travel from country to country, hunting down the
Wasserspeier
one by one and sending the demons who possessed them back to hell.'

‘Great idea, a posse of exorcists,' said Nathan. ‘Personally I prefer Doctor Jacob Lenz's theory. He thinks the
Wasserspeier
died out because they contracted a highly-infectious strain of diphtheria which was not particularly harmful to humans but which was fatal to gargoyles. Pretty much like the Martians in
The War of the Worlds
.'

‘Yes, I am aware of Doctor Lenz's theory.'

Nathan was getting up from his chair to fetch himself another can of pale ale. ‘You don't sound very convinced.'

‘Doctor Lenz is highly regarded and his theory is very plausible. In fact it is much more plausible than what really happened. But what
really
happened was an extraordinary combination of science and religion and some thaumaturgy, too – what your man in the street would call black magic.'

‘Go on.'

‘I don't know if I should. And if you knew what this was leading to, maybe you shouldn't ask me to.'

Grace came in from the kitchen. ‘Everything OK, darling? Would you like another beer?'

‘I was just about to get myself one.'

‘That's OK, I'll do it. Mr Zauber? Would you care for a drink? How about something to eat? I could make you a sandwich. I have cheese, or baloney.'

‘I think a glass of water please. But, no, no sandwich,
danke sehr
. I have to observe strictly my special diet.'

Theodor Zauber waited until Grace had left the room and then he said, ‘My father discovered that the Brotherhood of Purity included more than exorcists. It was led by Bishop Bodzanta from Kraków, who was a fierce opponent of all kinds of corruption and debauchery, especially in the royal courts.

‘Also with them was our friend Ibn ar-Tafiz, Artephius, and a Dominican friar called Tomaso Campanella, who had taught himself to become proficient in astrological magic, so that he could defend innocent people against demons. In his later years he was said to have saved Pope Urban the Eighth from a life-threatening attack by evil spirits.'

‘Quite a gang, then,' said Nathan.

‘As you correctly say, quite a gang. They traveled from one city to another, and as they did so, Tomaso Campanella located each gargoyle in its hiding place by means of a witch-compass. Once the creature was cornered, the priests gathered around to exorcize it and render it powerless. As soon as they had done that, Artephius applied his “secret fire” and the gargoyle would be turned to stone, so that it could not by repossessed by evil spirits. In total, the Brotherhood of Purity hunted down and petrified over a thousand of them. Sometimes they petrified as many as thirty in a single day.'