Chapter 4
Investigations
"I shouldn't have eaten that bear claw," said Gunn, clearly nauseated by the smell in the tunnels. "I thought it was bad last time I was down here, but …." His voice trailed off with a grimace of suppressed sickness. He pointed the direction to the others, who went on ahead of him.
They came upon the body of the female that had been shot first. She was still slumped against the tunnel wall in the same place Gunn had found her before, but the L.A. heat had begun to ripen the carcas. Wesley knelt to examine it, while Mac examined the walls around the entrance to the Kri-kite lair.
"Kri-kite's," said Wesley, standing up from his examination. "An extraordinary species, actually. I didn't think that there were any here in Los Angeles."
"There aren't anymore," replied Mac seriously. They all paused at the weight of his statement struck them. "What do you know about them?"
"They're a matriarchal society, existing in small family groups. Sub-human intelligence, almost animal-like, except that mature females develop a certain level of intellect along with primitive magical powers." Wesley paused to rub his chin, seeking to remember what else he knew. "I can't remember much more than that, but I can look up more back at the office."
"Look here," said Mac, pointing to the walls on either side of the lair's entrance. Small brackets were attached to the walls, twisted and discolored from heat. "This is where they mounted the incendiary devices. When they fired, they coated the inside of the layer with a flammable gel." He stepped forward a couple of steps and picked up another bit of metal about the size of a ragged quarter. "See these holes," he said, indicating a pattern of small punctures in the metal. "These insure an even spray over a large area, almost an aerosol. There probably wasn't a square centimeter of the room that wasn't covered by it."
"And it set everything on fire?" Cordelia asked in disbelief.
"The gel ignited," answered Mac. "It was probably a self-sustaining burn, the gel was designed to provide oxygen in the confined space. It likely contained an accelerant as well, and a thermal booster – probably magnesium. Everything in there was fuel."
"Oh," replied Cordelia quietly.
"Is that something the team would normally use?" asked Wesley.
"Absolutely – if they were intending to burn something up underground," replied Mac.
"So what you're saying is," said Gunn, walking up the tunnel, "they fully intended to do this. This was all part of the plan." Gunn shook his head. "That is messed up."
"Aye," was all Mac said.
Mac motioned Gunn to show him the rest of the tunnels. Since this time he knew exactly where he was going, it only took them ten minutes to find the other kill zone. MacKenzie examined it carefully, looking for signs that could be used to trace the source of the devices that were used. There were a few small clues, but nothing he'd count as definitive. After a few, long minutes, he started heading back.
"Well?" asked Gunn as he followed along at Mac's side. He was surprised that the man could remember his way back so easily.
"Russian make," said Mac easily.
"So that gives us a clue, right?" said Gunn.
"Maybe," said Mac, "But there's too much of it around – it's really everywhere." Since the fall of the Soviet Union, more and more Russian weapons were ending up in the wrong hands. Ex-KGB agents were aligning with Russian mafia to make the illegal arms trade a big business. In a city the size of L.A. there could be several different sources of the same weapons. "I need to find something more to narrow it down."
"How about the bullet hole in the demon up here?" asked Gunn.
"Standard issue rifle," said Mac quietly. "I carried one myself," he added over his shoulder. "We packed in our own ammunition, so there's nothing much to discover from it."
"So now what?" asked Gunn.
"Now we take a look at the lair," said Mac.
* * *
"So now what?" asked Kate.
"Now we …. I don't know," Angel said, searching for the right word, "Chat?" The two of them had gone to the prison at Angel's insistence, and over Kate's objections. As she had predicted, they had been denied admittance. Angel had tried to insist, but with the prison staff on edge from the escape, they weren't in any mood for it. Kate had convinced him, on threat of dusting, to back off.
She managed to speak to a couple of her friends there, and convinced them to come out to the parking garage and talk to her and Angel when they had a chance. For now, she and Angel had little to do but sit and wait.
They were on the second level of the garage, back in the deep shade. They had traveled there in Kate's car, with Angel under a blanket. Not much had been said on the trip, although there was much Angel wanted to say. Kate, however, was not really interested in hearing any of it.
"So," she said with exaggerated patience, "what would you like to chat about?"
"Well, how are you?" Angel said, folding his arms and attempting to smile into her glacial stare.
"How am I?" she echoed. She thought for a moment and seemed to mentally chew the words over. "I take it you mean, since my Dad was murdered by vampires, and since I lost the only job I ever learned how to do, and since every one of my friends thinks I'm a psych case, how am I?" She exhaled sharply, not inviting him to answer the obviously rhetorical question. "Well, other than the fact that my life is largely a shambles, and it's mostly because of you, I'm fine." She smiled coldly at him.
Angel began to protest, but she held up her hand. "No, wait," she said firmly. "Now that I think about it, I really can't blame you. After all, you did save my life. Which, on the whole is a good thing." Angel began to smile at this, but her expression warned him to be cautious.
"Now, on the other hand," she continued acidly, "the one thing I can't stand is to owe anyone anything. I always pay my debts back. But, with you I'm kind of in a quandary there, because you really don't have a life I can save. I mean, saving your life implies that you're alive, and you aren't." She threw up her hands in a gesture that seemed to indicate that everything should now be perfectly clear, even to someone as dense as he obviously was.
"But wait," she said, warming to her subject with a passion that was, on the whole, not quite what Angel was hoping for. "Knowing that I have no life in Law Enforcement anymore, and the person who embodies the shambles of my life is you, what do I do? I," she flung her arms out in exasperation, "go and stick myself with you for the entire day, at a Law Enforcement establishment."
Since she seemed finished, Angel gestured to speak. But instead Kate stopped him her hands once again. "No," she said. "Anything you say right now, any attempt to make me feel better, will just be rubbing salt into the wounds, okay? So, just drop it. The last thing I need to hear right now is you being nice."
Angel struggled for a long moment as his nature battled with her request. He actually looked rather comical as he tried several times to speak, but each time stopped himself before any words came out. Finally, he settled into a thoughtful silence.
Minutes later, they were both still standing there silently – Kate fuming and Angel in abject confusion – when one of the guards approached. He cleared his throat to get their attention. They instantly snapped their heads up, all the thoughts about their personal relationship – or lack thereof – being left behind.
"Kate," said the man, an older black gentleman wearing Sergeant's stripes, "it's good to see you."
"It's good to be seen, Ben," she said, smiling. "How's Rosa?"
"You know," he said, smiling broadly at her. "She still asks about you. She still thinks you should let Jeremy take you out on a date." He laughed at that. "You're father would've like that – you dating a doctor."
"Yeah," she agreed, but wistfully. "Dad would've liked that." She paused for a moment to let the conversation shift its momentum. "What can you tell us about what happened to Faith?" Instead of answering, the old cop looked meaningfully at Angel. "P.I." she said, by way of introduction. She made a mental to note to check and make sure that 'Angel Investigations' had properly gotten its Private Investigators license. "His name's Angel, and he has a vested interest in seeing Faith back here where she belongs."
Ben nodded, accepting Kate's version of the situation while admitting to himself that he didn't quite believe it. "They're saying it was an inside job. Nothing busted, nothing broken. No sound. She's just not there"
"Any chance it could be true?" she asked carefully.
He shrugged. "Always a chance of that," he said plainly. "The thing is, even if it was an inside job, no one can figure how they did it."
"Was anything else missing?" asked Angel.
Ben looked at him carefully and instead turned to Kate. She nodded to him, so he answered her. "That's the strange part," he replied. "The only other thing missing was her mattress. Folks figure they rolled her up in it and carried it out, kinda like Cleopatra." Ben shook his head at the suggestion. "It doesn't show up on the tape, though. If they carried a mattress out, with or without her in it, nobody knows what exit they used."
Kate nodded. "Is there any chance she's still inside? Maybe she's been ditched somewhere in the physical plant."
Ben nodded, pleased with assessment of all the possibilities. "They got the dogs in there now searching, but so far none of them have found anything."
Kate looked at Angel, who shrugged with no more questions to ask. So, Kate thanked Ben, gave him a hug, and extracted a promise to call her if he found out anything more. Ben, in turn, extracted a promise from her to come over for Sunday dinner – after all, Jeremy was going to be there.
After Ben left, Kate and Angel stared at each other for a long moment. Finally he said, "You never really did answer the question about why it took so long for you guys to figure out she was gone. How do you manage to keep any prisoners at all?"
"Well," she said, sighing, "even if we do lose them, most of them come back to visit their friends, so we just pick them back up then."
"Really?" he asked, unsure as to how much of her reply was sarcasm. She didn't answer, but instead climbed into the car. Angel hurried up to climb in with her. "Kate," he said, smiling what he hoped was a pleasant smile at her, "really?" She continued to ignore him.
"So," she said instead, "we've got a mattress. Not much to go on."
"True," said Angel, "but maybe its enough."
* * *
Cordelia picked up a badly deformed, but not consumed, spring from the floor. There were several others around where it lay. She looked at it, trying to discern its meaning.
"Mattress," said Gunn, pointing at the spring.
"Wha-huh?" Cordelia replied.
"There was a mattress here," said Gunn. "That's what the springs are from."
"Oh," replied Cordelia, and dropped the spring on the ground.
"That's unusual," said Wesley, looking at the ground where the mattress springs were.
"Not really," said Gunn. "Most of them are deathtraps anyway. Smoke in bed and – whoosh – just say, 'duraflame.'"
"Not that," responded Wesley. "It's the location of it. There seems to be some evidence that there was a sacred circle here. They never would have slept on it."
"A sacred circle?" asked Gunn. "You can tell that?"
Wesley, distracted, merely grunted, but did not enlighten anyone further. "This confirms that there was probably a magic capable matriarch living here. She would use this circle to perform her magic rituals."
"Rituals?" inquired Cordelia, not sure she wanted further elucidation, but like a particularly bad car wreck felt the need to look further. "What kind of rituals?"
"Oh," said Wesley, still distracted, "your typical magic invocation ritual. She would probably do a little dance, and shed a little blood – "
"Get down tonight, whoo!" Cordelia chimed in, laughing at the parallel.
"Don't!" said both Wesley and Gunn sharply. They looked at one another, and then Wesley continued. "This kind of ritual magic can be very primal, and very powerful. Remnants of it likely linger in this space. We shouldn't take it for granted, or underestimate it. Don't you agree, Charles?"
"Damn, Wes," replied Gunn, shaking his head and smiling. "I was thinking more along the lines of not messin' with the Sunshine Band. For a Miami white boy, K.C. could sure lay down some tracks."
Wesley and Cordelia both rolled their eyes at that. "We'd better get back," Wesley said finally.
"With what?" said Gunn, frustrated. "All we got here is a misplaced mattress."
"Hopefully," Wesley responded, "it will be enough."