City Central
Nick Marshal looked out over his team of detectives and gulped down the last bit of coffee from the plastic cup he was holding. Through the blinds in front of the window he could see it was getting cloudier outside, tonight there'd probably be a storm. The last person arrived from the toilet and joined with the others, for a Nick a sign to start his briefing about the murder investigation of Richard Schultz.
"I know the weather is being a bitch, most you are probably having a cold or expect to catch one soon, but we need some hard work to be done."
Nick chewed on the wooden stirrer from his coffee cup and turned to the whiteboard behind him. With a marker pen he had written down the main facts of the murder, photos of the crime scene provided visual details.
"Richard Schultz was found dead in his house this morning. According to his neighbours he never had any visitors; no friends, no family, nobody. This is statement is fuelled by the fact that nobody reported him missing except for his work. Schultz was working at a bank in the centre of London and of course he didn't show up today."
Nick dropped a pause and looked around to see if anyone had a question so far.
"This situation is a curse as well as a blessing for our investigation", he continued. "Victims with a large family and many friends also have a long list of possible killers. In this case our leads are limited. However, that means we also have to be cautious with everything we have."
A man at the front raised his hand up in the air.
"Sir, the way the victim got killed was extremely brutal, and we found these strange symbols on the wall. Is that giving us any clues right now?"
"It means that we are looking for a strong person, most likely someone with combat experience. The symbols on the wall might point to a psychotic killer. That would make things harder because it could mean that Schultz was a random victim."
Nick pointed at his friend Jason and winked.
"Jason, I want you to take young Jones and have a talk with the neighbours again. Briggs, Maud and Owen go around the street asking people if they saw or heard something suspicious. According to the forensic boys the murder took place in the evening. Jimbo and Dan are lucky, you guys can stay inside and check out Schultz' computer. We took the thing here; go through it with a fine toothed comb. Open every document, every image and every folder with favourites or anything. Try find out what kept him busy; maybe he had an address book in Outlook. I myself go to the city centre and drop by at the bank he was working. Phone me for important news, otherwise we will see each other again in the end of the day for the evaluation."
Everybody stood up and a noise of shoving chairs and folding paperwork rose from the crowd.
"Good luck", Nick said but his voice was drowned out by the chatter from his colleagues.
"Good speech", said Jason teasingly and slapped Nick's shoulder with a rolled up newspaper. Nick smirked and blocked the attack.
"Make me happy Jason; try to get something out of those pensioners. Schultz must have had hobbies or something, ask what they saw him doing in the weekends."
"Will do", said Jason and also left the briefing room. Nick was standing all alone now and silently watched the whiteboard with all the gruesome photos. As he stood there his confident attitude suddenly disappeared. He nervously looked over his shoulder and bit his cheek. Again he made sure that nobody was watching him and then he quickly took a few of the photos from under the little magnets. In his own room Nick searched in the desk drawers for an envelope and shoved the photos inside.
"What in the name of God am I doing?" he asked himself and wiped the sweat from his hands. Never ever since his first day as policeman he had done something against the rules. But now he felt there was no other choice. The telephone on his desk stood quietly waiting for him but Nick still hesitated. He had to keep this under control; one little talk couldn't do much harm. One tip that wouldn't be mentioned in the reports, that wouldn't draw anyone's attention. Nick took a deep breath before grabbing the telephone and dialling a number. As soon as the call got answered he regretted his decision, but he couldn't go back now anymore.
"Hello?"
"Hey it's me Nick, Nick Marshal. I have some stuff I want you to look at."
The person at the other side silenced for a moment.
"What kind of stuff do you want me to see?"
"Photos from a murder scene, it happened last night here in London."
"I don't want to come to the police station", said the man with a slightly boring tone. Nick heard how he took a swig of coffee and released a sigh.
"What kind of murder is it that you want to see me?"
"Something right up your alley, or so I believe. We will see each other in a diner or a pub, completely unofficial if you what I mean. Your name won't be mentioned anywhere."
The man cleared his throat and sniffed sceptically.
"Ok, I will be there."
Nick made excellent use of the circumstances to cover up his off the record meeting. The diner they chose to meet was just across the street from the bank were Richard Schultz had been working. Right after the talk he could walk into the Barclays establishment and nobody would ever suspect anything.
When Nick entered the small bistro he saw that his friend already had arrived. At a table near the window sat a lonely man staring at the burning end of his cigarette. He was of average height, had dark brown hair and crystal blue eyes. He wore jeans, combat boots and a black cotton sweater with leather patches on shoulders and elbows. When he spotted Nick's thin lips curved up in a smirk and he straightened his back.
"You must be Kurtis Trent", said Nick mockingly as he sat down at the other side of the table.
"I have files on you, my boy. After your departure from the Foreign Legion you worked as a mercenary in Croatia, Israel, Russia and North Africa. Enough charges to send you straight to death row."
Kurtis took a packet of Lucky Strikes from his pocket and offered a cigarette to Nick.
"If only you had evidence, eh? They won't capture Trent so easily."
Kurtis and Nick had become friends more then a decade ago when they served together in the Foreign Legion. Nick Marshal came from a high class family and grew up in wealth and fortune. Upon finishing school he had no idea what he wanted to become in life. Nick had always been a philosophical type that needed time and solitude to think. With borrowed money from his father he went on a trip throughout Europe to orientate and think about his future. He didn't get further then France however, where he met an ex-Legionnaire in a Parisian nightclub. In a spontaneous mood Nick singed up for the Legion less then a day later.
"We haven't seen each other for long", stated the policeman after declining a cigarette.
"How're you?"
"I have had better days", answered Kurtis with a raspy voice and coughed.
"I was in Prague, about two weeks ago. I can't really talk about the business I was dealing with, but they caught me really bad this time. There's this wound right beneath my ribs; it didn't hit any vital organs, but the pain is awful."
Nick frowned concerned and looked around if a waiter would come to their table.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you on medication?"
"The doctor gave me tranquilisers to prevent me going mental from pain. Moving and bending is still a problem, I'm doing exercises every day. You see, sometimes there is this situation where the demons hunt you."
Kurtis had obtained the nickname Demon Hunter since his time with the Legion in Iraq. Despite his lanky built and limited physical strength Nick had made through basic training and was put in the paratrooper division together with Kurtis. During a mission in the Gulf War the Legion was camping in the Iraqi wilderness near a pre-Islamic temple. There Kurtis had revealed his knowledge of ancient religions and demon worshipping. He claimed that he could read the inscriptions they found on the ruins that were left of the temple. Nick remembered waking up one morning and overhearing some of the boys telling that Trent went out of his tent in the middle of the night to go to the temple. Apparently he had performed some kind of ritual and declared that the place now was free of bad spirits. Kurtis never confirmed this straight but the rumours kept buzzing around for a while.
"A coffee please and a blackberry muffin", said Nick to the waiter that appeared at their table. He wanted to hand the menu to his friend but Kurt didn't even look at it.
"That'll be two coffees."
"What can I help you with?" he asked when the waiter left.
"I'm not in the condition to run errands."
Marshal produced the enveloped from his pocket and placed it in front of him on the table.
"A man was killed this morning in a London neighbourhood. The killer wrote a message on the wall with the blood of his victim. We sent photos of the message to our cryptologists."
Kurtis reached out to take the envelope, but Nick pushed him back.
"Wait a second till the waiter is back. I don't want anyone else to see what you're looking at. Take them out and quickly sneak a peak, like checking out your hand at a poker game."
It didn't take long before the two cups of coffee and the muffin arrived at their table. Nick paid for them both and then shoved the envelope to the other side of the table. Kurt took out the images and looked quickly just as his friend instructed him.
"Yeah, that's kind of obvious", he said and put them back.
"Are you thinking the same as I do?" Nick leaned forward a bit and whispered.
The demon hunter nodded quickly.
"Yes, they're the same runes as in that temple in Iraq. Your cryptology department won't identify this. Too bad the image is too vague for me to read the runes."
Nick put the envelope back in the pocket of his coat.
"What is going on here, Kurtis? You never told why you could read those symbols back then. Is my victim related to you in any way?"
Kurtis took a sip from his coffee and wiped his chin.
"This is all very delicate information, Nick. I'm involved in certain business connected with those runes. But this murder comes as a surprise for me as well. Give me a little time to investigate things myself and I will keep you updated with information."
Nick pulled an unsatisfied muzzle.
"As a good friend I deserve a little more then that. By the way, this whole conversation is off the record. I can't keep using you as source of information without mentioning it in any report. I'm not a private detective; I have superiors to deal with."
"Alright", said Kurtis. "There is a secret organisation, the Cabal. My stay in Prague was directly connected with it and the events in Iraq too. Don't mention this to anybody, but some gruesome stuff is going to happen in the time to come. This is all I can tell for now, but I will help you, I promise."
Nick looked at his watch.
"I have another appointment to attend", he said curtly. "Thanks for everything; I will speak to you later." The men said goodbye and Nick left the establishment.
Exactly thirty-two minutes later he took out his mobile phone and dialled Jason's number. A short interview with the bank manager had not resulted in any valuable information. Richard Schultz was a quiet anonymous employee who came always in time and did his job neatly. He was well organised, good mannered and a little shy. He had an English passport but during the little talks he had with colleagues they got the impression that Schultz had not always lived on the British Isles.
"Hey Jason, are you somewhere near the city centre? I don't have any change for the underground; maybe you can come and pick me up? I just finished a talk with that bank manager. Thanks a bunch."
Not much later he sat at the passenger seat of Jason's car and they drove through central London. Dark clouds packed together above them and a thunder rumbled in the distance.
"We're going to have some pretty bad weather", said Jason. "Did you have any good result from the bank manager?"
Nick Marshal shook his head and stared grumpily out of the front window.
"Nothing that we weren't aware of already. Except that Schultz is not of English heritage but that wasn't so difficult to guess with that name. How about your talk with his neighbours then?"
"A kraut then, is it?" Jason giggled loudly and offered Nick some chewing gum. He had a taste for politically incorrect jokes, without any bad intend however. Nick took a piece of gum and slowly chewed on it.
"His neighbours are an older couple", continued Jason. "Lovely people really. They say Richard was such a decent young man who never caused any trouble. He always helped them to trim the hedges, swept up the snow from the pavement during the winter, all that kind of suburban happiness. The only valuable information I received is that Richard Schultz was visiting some kind of support group during the weekends. Not that he had a drinking problem or something, from what his neighbours understood he talked with other people about faith and religion."
Nick nodded in acknowledgement and for a minute they both silenced. The thunder outside got louder and it seemed they drove closer to the core of the storm. The sky had a sinister sulphur-like colour that did not promise much good for the hours to come.
"How are you doing lately?" asked Jason suddenly. "You're looking a little feeble, to be honest." Jason was a good friend of Nick and basically the only one who could ask thing like that.
"Maybe I had too little sleep lately", answered his colleague.
"It's because you don't do anything when you come home", said Jason strictly. "Always watching telly and hanging on the sofa is not good for you. Why don't you come and visit me a bit more often?"
Jason lived with a wife and two kids in a renovated part of West London. Nick had always been single and rented a small apartment not far from the centre.
"West Ham United is playing at home this weekend. Usually I go with Leslie and Neill, but the girl can stay home with her mother for once. After the match we have dinner with the five of us. That will do you good."
Nick smiled a bit awkward but finally agreed to come.
"What is going on out there?" he asked to change subjects. Jason looked in the direction his friend was pointing. In between the many buildings and office blocks was a sandy pit with some scaffolding around it.
"Oh I read about that in the newspaper", he said. "There was supposed to be some construction going on there, new commercial development or something. But during digs they found the remains from a medieval settlement of some kind. Now the whole thing is closed down and being supervised by a team of archaeologists."
He giggled again in his familiar way. "It's a law you know, when they find something like that construction must be postponed until some freaks had the chance to dig up pots and vases. I bet the contractor went all bonkers when he heard that."
