McCaleb was too jazzed by what he had read and seen to think about sleep. It was four-thirty and he knew he would complete this night awake and in the office. It was probably too early in Quantico, Virginia, for anyone to be in the Behavioral Sciences Unit but he decided to make the call anyway. He went up to the salon, got the cell phone out of the charger and punched in the number from memory. When the general operator answered he asked to be transferred to Special Agent Brasilia Doran’s desk. There were a lot of people he could have asked for but he had decided on Doran because they had worked well together – and often from long distances – when he had been in the bureau. Doran also specialized in icon identification and symbology.
The call was picked up by a machine and while listening to Doran’s outgoing message McCaleb quickly tried to decide whether to leave a message or just call back. Initially, he thought it would be better to hang up and try to catch Doran live later because a personal call is much more difficult to deflect than a taped message. But then he decided to put faith in their former camaraderie, even if he had been out of the bureau for nearly five years.
“Brass, it’s Terry McCaleb. Long time no see. Uh, listen, I’m calling because I need a favor. Could you call me back as soon as you get a moment? I’d really appreciate it.”
He gave the number for his cell phone, thanked her and hung up. He could take the phone with him back to the house and wait for the call there but that would mean that Graciela might overhear the conversation with Doran and he didn’t want that. He went back down to the forward bunk and started through the murder book documents again. He checked every page again for something that stood out in its inclusion or exclusion. He took a few more notes and made a list of things he still needed to do and know before drawing up a profile. But primarily he was just waiting for Doran. She finally returned his call at five-thirty.
“Long time is right,” she said by way of greeting.
“Too long. How y’doin’, Brass?”
“Can’t complain because nobody listens.”
“I heard you guys are looking for the Drano over there.”
“You’re right about that. We are clogged and flogged. You know last year we sent half the staff to Kosovo to help in the war crimes investigations. On six-week rotations. That just killed us. We are still so far behind it’s getting critical.”
McCaleb wondered if she was giving him the woe-is-me pitch so he might not ask the favor he had mentioned on the message. He decided to go ahead with it anyway.
“Well, then you aren’t going to like hearing from me,” he said.
“Oh boy, I’m shaking in my boots. What do you need, Terry?”
“I’m doing a favor for a friend out here. Sheriff’s homicide squad. Taking a look at a homicide and -”
“Did he already run it through here?”
“It’s a she. And, yeah, she ran it on the VICAP box and got blanked. That’s all. She got the word on how backed up you guys are on profiling and came to me instead. I sort of owe her one so I said I’d take a look.”
“And now you want to cut in line, right?”
McCaleb smiled and hoped she was smiling as well on the other end of the line.
“Sort of. But I think it’s a quickie. It’s just one thing I want.”
“Then out with it. What?”
“I need an iconography baseline. I’m following a hunch on something.”
“Okay. Doesn’t sound too involving. What’s the symbol?”
“An owl.”
“An owl? Just an owl?”
“More specifically, a plastic owl. But an owl just the same. I want to know if it’s turned up before and what it means.”
“Well, I remember the owl on the bag of potato chips. What’s that brand?”
“Wise. I remember. It’s an East Coast brand.”
“Well, there you go. The owl is smart. He is wise.”
“Brass, I was hoping for something a little more -”
“I know, I know. Tell you what, I’ll see what I can find. The thing to remember is, symbols change. What means one thing at one time might mean something completely different at another time. You just looking for contemporary uses and examples?”
McCaleb thought for a moment about the message on the duct tape.
“Can you throw in the medieval time period?”
“Sounds like you got a weird one – but ain’t they all. Let me guess, a holy shit case?”
“Could be. How’d you know that?”
“Oh, all that medieval Inquisition and church stuff. Seen it before. I’ve got your number. I’ll try to get back today.”
McCaleb thought about asking her to run an analysis of the message from the duct tape but decided not to pile it on. Besides, the message must have been included on the computer run Jaye Winston completed. He thanked her and was about to disconnect when she asked about his health and he told her he was fine.
“You still living on that boat I heard about?”
“Nope. I’m living on an island now. But I still have the boat. I’ve got a wife and new baby daughter, too.”
“Wow! Is this the Terry ‘TV Dinner’ McCaleb I used to know?”
“Same one, I guess.”
“Well, it sounds like you got your stuff together.”
“I think I finally do.”
“Then be careful with it. What are you doing chasing a case again?”
McCaleb hesitated in his reply.
“I’m not sure.”
“Don’t bullshit me. We both know why you’re doing it. Tell you what, let me see what I can find out and I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks, Brass. I’ll be waiting.”
McCaleb went into the master cabin and shook Buddy Lockridge awake. His friend startled and began swinging his arms wildly.
“It’s me, it’s me!”
Before he calmed down, Buddy clapped McCaleb on the side of the head with a book he had fallen asleep holding.
“What are you doing?” Buddy exclaimed.
“I’m trying to wake you, man.”
“What for? What time is it?”
“It’s almost six. I want to take the boat across.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now. So get up and help me. I’ll get the lines.”
“Man, now? We’re going to hit the layer. Why don’t you wait until it burns off?”
“Because I don’t have the time.”
Buddy reached up and turned on the reading lamp that was attached to the cabin wall just above the headboard. McCaleb noticed the book he was reading was called The Wire in the Blood.
“Something sure put a wire in your blood, man,” he said as he rubbed his ear where the book had hit him.
“Sorry about that. Why you in such a hurry to cross, anyway? It’s that case, isn’t it?”
“I’ll be on top. Let’s get it going.”
McCaleb headed out of the cabin. Buddy called after him as he expected he would.
“You going to need a driver?”
“No, Buddy. You know I’ve been driving a couple years now.”
“Yeah, but you might need help with the case, man.”
“I’ll be all right. Hurry up, Bud, I want to get over there.”
McCaleb took the key off the hook next to the salon door and went out and climbed up into the bridge. The air was still chilled and tendrils of dawn light were working their way through the morning mist. He flicked on the Raytheon radar and started the engines. They turned over immediately – Buddy had taken the boat over to Marina del Rey the week before to have them overhauled.
McCaleb left them idling while he climbed back down and went to the fantail. He untied the stern line and then the Zodiac and led it around to the bow. He tied the Zodiac to the line from the mooring buoy after releasing it from the forward cleat. The boat was free now. He turned in the bow pulpit and looked up at the bridge just as Buddy, his hair a wiry nest from sleep, slid into the pilot seat. McCaleb signaled that the boat was loose. Buddy pushed the throttles forward and The Following Sea began to move. McCaleb picked the eight-foot gaff pole up off the deck and used it to keep the buoy off the bow as the boat made the turn into the fairway and slowly headed toward the mouth of the harbor.
McCaleb stayed in the pulpit, leaning back against the railing and watching the island slip away behind the boat. He looked up once again toward his house and saw only the one light still on. It was too early for his family to be awake. He thought about the mistake he had knowingly just made. He should have gone up to the house and told Graciela what he was doing, tried to explain it. But he knew it would lose him a lot of time and that he would never be able to explain it to her satisfaction. He decided to just go. He would call his wife after the crossing and he would deal with the consequences of his decision later.
The cool air of the shark-gray dawn had tightened the skin on his arms and neck. He turned in the bow pulpit and looked forward and across the bay to where he knew overtown lay hidden beneath the marine layer. Not being able to see what he knew to be there gave him an ominous feeling and he looked down. The water the bow cut through was flat and as blue-black as a marlin’s skin. McCaleb knew he needed to get up into the bridge to help Buddy. One of them would drive while the other kept an eye on the radar screen to chart a safe course to Los Angeles Harbor. Too bad, he thought, that there would be no radar for him to use once he was on land again and trying to chart his way through the case that now gripped him. A mist of a different kind awaited him there. And these thoughts of trying to see his way through turned his mind to the thing about the case that had hooked him so deeply.
Beware Beware God Sees The words turned in his head like a newfound mantra. There was someone in the cloaking mist ahead who had written those words. Someone who had acted on them in an extreme capacity at least once and who would likely act on them again. McCaleb was going to find that person. And in doing so, he wondered, whose words would he be acting on? Was there a true God sending him on this journey?
He felt a touch on his shoulder and startled and turned, nearly dropping the gaff pole overboard. It was Buddy.
“Jesus, man, don’t do that!”
“You all right?”
“I was till you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing? You should be driving.”
McCaleb glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were clear of the harbor markers and into the open bay.
“I don’t know,” Buddy said. “You looked like Ahab standing out here with that gaff. I thought something was wrong. What are you doing?”
“I was thinking. Do you mind? Don’t sneak up on me like that, man.”
“Well, I guess that makes us even then.”
“Just go drive the boat, Buddy. I’ll be up in a minute. And check the generator – might as well juice the batteries.”
As Buddy moved away McCaleb felt his heart even out again. He stepped off the pulpit and snapped the gaff back into its clamps on the deck. As he was bent over he felt the boat rise and fall as it went over a three- or four-foot roller. He straightened up and looked around for the origin of the wake. But he saw nothing. It had been a phantom moving across the flat surface of the bay.