The Hammer Commission Page 3

  “A friend of the summoner reported it as part of their penance. As I understand it they confessed to having been involved with the summoner to some degree or other; I am not really sure on that as it is protected. But the priest hearing their confession assigned them to report it to the Church as part of their penance.”

  “I’d like to go talk to them.”

  “No, I do not think that would be wise right now.” Father Flores told him, “I will send someone else to interview them if you feel it is necessary. But I do not want them to feel guilty for having told the Church about their friend. It is too soon.”

  “But don’t we need to know how this happened Father?”

  “Oh I am sure we will figure it all out in good time Mark.” Father Flores stood signaling that the interview was over, “but it is so unusual that I do not think this will be happening again. Our scholars think that the demon was not in fact summoned by that young man, but was something left over by the Nazi’s, a trap meant to trigger when the Allies took Paris that failed to work and he just somehow released it unintentionally.”

  Mark stood up when the Father had and he shrugged, it did make more sense than anything else he’d heard and he was reluctant to argue with Father Flores. “Well if you say so Father.”

  Father Flores nodded and smiled, “I do. It is really the only thing that makes any sense,” he said leading Mark to the door. “I will see you tonight then Mark,” and after shaking Mark’s hand he showed him out of his office.

  The next few days passed in a daze for Mark as he tried to wrap his head around what had happened to him, to Jake, and that Jake was dead. He did say a little bit at the memorial service, and everyone did turn out. It was rather lovely overall, and he was sure Jake would have hated every minute of it. He tried to do a little research but the drive wasn’t there; his body was still stiff and sore, something he wasn't used to, and the painkillers left him feeling tired. Three days after his arrival he went down to the infirmary for a physical. Sister Susan Guinarra saw him, she was one of two doctors at the abbey, the infirmary was actually more of a small hospital.

  “Sister,” Mark said as she entered the examination room.

  “Mark. Please sit on the table, this shouldn’t take long.”

  Mark nodded and sat on the examination table, like most people he hated the little open back gowns of course, they were cold.

  “I see the bruising has almost completely faded. There will be some scaring, but it looks like it will be rather faint.”

  “I don’t understand that Sister.”

  “Understand what?” She looked up at him a moment, then returned to checking the scars.

  “Why I wasn’t healed perfectly. All the cuts were healed, all the serious wounds, I’d have bled to death otherwise. But why scars? I don’t understand why I’m left with bruises and scars.”

  She sat back in the chair and looked at Mark again. “So what you’re wondering is why God only healed you halfway, not completely.”

  Mark shrugged, “Well it is an act of God, right? Or at least one of his Angels. Why do only a halfway job?”

  “Maybe you should ask a priest?”

  “I’m asking you. You’re a doctor; you probably have seen this before. Surely you have already asked about it?”

  She nodded, “I have.”

  Mark sighed exasperated. Why are nuns always so hard to get answers out of? “Would you mind sharing your answer with me?”

  Sister Guinarra laughed, “As I understand it, God and his angels always use the minimum amount of divinity needed to get the job done. Otherwise we might become dependent, and therefore lose our freewill.”

  Mark nodded; it made a bit more sense than what Giscard had said to him back in France, freewill was a very important issue with God according to the Church's teachings.

  “Now, no more painkillers for you. You’re cleared for limited duty for the next week, after that you can return to full. The ribs look okay and those bruises are mostly gone.”

  Mark nodded again. “How is Father Gregory doing by the way?”

  Now it was her turn to sigh, “Still the same. Last year Monsignor Flores had some new equipment put in his room, the latest in treatment for comatose patients. But his condition hasn’t changed at all.”

  “Would it be okay for me to visit him?”

  “Yes. Have a good day Mark.”

  She left and Mark got dressed, and then went down the hall to the very last room. Father Gregory had been the one who had recruited him to work for the Commission; he had also been Mark's first teacher here as well as his confessor. Mark had loved him like a father, in many ways Father Gregory had become his father; Mark's own having died while he was still in school. A few years ago he’d had a stroke however and while at first he’d started to improve, he had another one shortly after and had lapsed into a coma. Entering the room Mark looked at all the machines they had inside it, Father Gregory’s head was shaven and there was a skull cap of some kind with wires leading from it to what looked like an ECG.

  Father Gregory looked small and fragile in the bed; he was in his nineties now. In his youth he had served in the field for over four decades, including during the war when the last of the great horrors had been called into the world. They all missed his counsel, which would explain why Father Flores was so willing to try any new treatment or technology that came along. Mark especially missed him; few knew all the details of Mark's past as well as Father Gregory, whose advice had always been priceless in helping Mark deal with Father Flores and many of the others around him.

  He sat there for a while and just talked about things in general. Mark doubted it made any real difference, but with Jake gone Mark didn’t really have any friends left here at the Abbey anymore and sometimes talking about his problems did help, even if there was no one there to offer advice.

  The next morning, with his head not as muddled now that he wasn't taking pain killers anymore, he headed down to the archives.

  “Ah, good morning Mark, what can I do for you?”

  “Well Father Aimes, I was hoping you could help me with some research.”

  Father Aimes smiled and nodded, he was the head archivist of the order and maintained the library of not only the order’s records, but all of the sacred texts and other books and documents kept here as well. “You’ve come to the right place. Now what are you looking for?”

  “I don’t rightly know Father, I’m sure you’ve heard what happened to Jake?”

  Father Aimes nodded, “A sad end to a good man.”

  “I want to know what happened. How does a novice summon a devil that took Hitler ten thousand lives? Something that hasn’t been seen in over half a century?”

  Father Aimes looked at him, “So I take it you disagree with the current theory?”

  Mark nodded, “I don’t see how one can put a devil on ‘hold’. Especially not one as powerful as that.”

  “Just because we don’t understand how it was done, does not mean it can not be done Mark,” Father Aimes told him. “You of all people should understand that.”

  “It didn’t know what a car was Father,” Mark told him. “If it had been trapped in this world, stuck in an object or some set of wards, surely it would have known what an automobile was.”

  “Hmm, interesting point. Perhaps the summoning was cast years ago and only triggered now?”

  “Then why did it wait in the building for us to show?” Mark asked. “It escaped the warding circle on its own. So what held it in that building? If it was a left over Nazi trap, shouldn’t it have rampaged through the city the moment it was released?”

  Mark watched as Father Aimes pondered that a minute.

  “Now, that is a good question Mark. Come over here and have a seat, let’s see what we can discover.”

  Mark leaned back and stretched, it was well past lunch, they’d been pouring over old texts and books for hours. “They really should computerize this you know.”

  “They tri
ed,” Father Aimes said motioning to an old terminal on a desk across the room.

  “Really? What happened?” Mark said curious.

  “Didn’t work.”

  “You’re kidding me!”

  “Well actually it worked, at first. The old machine we have did okay with it, but when Father Flores had us upgrade to the new machines it wouldn’t work anymore.”

  “How so?”

  Father Aimes shrugged, “Something about the way the data is stored. Some of the spells and ceremonies can only be recorded on certain media, in certain ways. Of course on paper it worked, so it wasn't until they tried putting them into computers that problems came up."

  "So why not keep using the old system?"

  "The company that made it is long gone. The technology is no longer manufactured. Brother Stevens in the data center could probably tell you more."

  "Huh." Mark said thinking about it. He wondered if maybe there just might be a clue there. Perhaps that kid had tried something using a computer and discovered something no one else knew. "I think I'll look up Brother Stevens next and ask him about it."

  "Might as well, we haven't found anything here. I'll keep looking however, I love a good mystery and this one is the best to cross my desk in years."

  "Thanks Father," Mark said, "I appreciate it."

  "Well it's why I'm here after all. Now, let's go get some lunch."

  Mark didn't actually catch up with Brother Stevens right after lunch, instead after Father Aimes and Mark had left the Cafeteria Father Aimes brought him over to one of the break rooms. There were a few of the older priests hanging out there and chatting over coffee and Father Aimes had dragged Mark over to the group and introduced him around. Mark knew a few of them, but most of them he didn't, and he could see by their initial reactions that he still wasn't the most liked of the field agents. Once he really hadn't cared, he had Father Gregory or Jake to field those issues, but now it was just him. So he invested some time in chatting with the priests and socializing.

  He had reasons to keep to himself at times, there had been some nasty rumors about him when he'd first joined the Commission and apparently some of them were starting to make the rounds again. At least Father Aimes had no qualms about him and said as much to the others there.

  "Mark, right?" Brother Stevens said when he finally got there, it had gotten late, he'd spent a lot of time talking with the other priests in his attempt to show them he was just another member of the team.

  "Yes Brother. I was wondering if I could ask a few questions about some things."

  "Just call me Stevens, Mark. I don't go in much for titles down here."

  Mark nodded, "Father Aimes told me that the new system can't retain holy texts?"

  Brother Stevens looked at Mark rather curiously. "Why would you be interested in that? You're a field agent, aren't you?"

  Mark tried not to look embarrassed, "I'm investigating a few different angles on the case, and well it just seemed strange to me. Didn't the old system allow it? Any idea why the new one won't?"

  Brother Stevens shrugged, "Father Flores believes it has something to do with the manner in which the information is stored. The old system was ancient and used what they call 'core memory'. This new system uses a new type of chip. It's based on electricity while the old one used magnetic fields. Uses more power, but is way faster."

  "Father Flores?" Mark asked surprised. "What does he know about computers?"

  Brother Stevens laughed, "Flores has a PhD. in computer science and architecture. Man is brilliant; he even designed the new system we use here. No idea why he decided to take the vows and join the Church. Surprised everyone, but you know what they say: The calling can not be denied."

  "Huh, didn't know that," Mark said. "I always thought he was just following in the family tradition."

  "Oh he is now, I don't doubt that. Word is everyone figured he'd end up in Vatican City working on their mainframe; they have some serious needs for high powered computer scientists over there. But after he'd been there about a year he found his calling and then after joining the priesthood asked to come here to carry on the family tradition.

  "The people who work the computers in the Vatican weren't very happy, but the Cardinals were positively thrilled to have another Flores running the Commission again."

  Mark nodded at that, "Hard to argue with the Flores name, they are a very impressive lot."

  "Kind of surprising to hear that coming from you Mark," Brother Stevens said laughing again. "His dislike of you is pretty well known."

  Mark sighed and shrugged, "I admit I had a few rough edges when I first came here, after some of what I'd been through I thought everyone was out to get me and I know I wasn't trusted."

  "You killed a vampire. By yourself. That sort of thing makes people nervous."

  "Not like I had any choice in the matter, someone had to do it and I was the person on the spot. I just was lucky."

  "Howso?"

  "My mother is very devout. She gave me a cross to wear years ago. Turns out it had been blessed by a Cardinal."

  "Really?" Brother Stevens eyebrows raised. "That was enough to stop a vampire?"

  "It slowed him down long enough for me to empty four clips of blessed bullets into him and spray him down with about a gallon of holy water. That tore him up enough that I was able to cut his head off with a machete before he could regenerate his body."

  "Huh, hadn't heard about that."

  Mark nodded, "Except for Father Gregory I didn't tell anyone else the details of what happened. It wasn't a very powerful vamp, it was still young, and I got a local priest to help me out with holy items. That was how I came to the attention of Father Gregory."

  "So you just took a vampire on by yourself?" Brother Stevens looked amazed.

  "I didn't know about the Commission back then, and I'd been through some rather nasty stuff as a soldier in Afghanistan. The thing was murdering people; I figured it was my duty." Mark tried not to look too embarrassed. There was more to it than that, but Father Gregory had cautioned him to keep that to himself.

  "No wonder why they made you a field agent so quickly. A lot of people thought you were related to the Pope or something!" Brother Stevens said laughing.

  "Father Gregory told me once that was how most people got picked back when he got started: they'd look for the survivors. Everyone figured they must have had something going for them, either skill, brains, or just plain luck."

  "Well better you than me. I'm scared spitless just from the pictures they show me of some of those monsters!" Brother Stevens looked up at the clock. "Dinner time! Come on up, I'll treat."

  Mark was surprised, "Serious?"

  "Course! I don't get the chance to talk to any of the field agents often and I actually have a lot of questions I'd really like to ask."

  Mark grinned, "Well as long as you’re buying!"

  When they got to the cafeteria the people there looked upset and there was a lot of muted talking going on.

  "What's wrong Jonathon?" Brother Stevens asked one of the other priests.

  "We just got word that another team was attacked in Poland, just to the north of Warsaw. Reports say that they managed to destroy the devil, just barely, but only because they’d brought along a few priests from one of the local churches to help. One of those was able to pull out their artifact in time and dismiss it. But both members of the team and two of the accompanying priests were killed."

  “Dammit!” Mark swore. “I told Father Flores that this wasn’t an isolated incident.”

  Father Jonathon looked a little pale, “But the power is not there anymore, we know that!”

  “Maybe we’re wrong,” Mark said, “maybe something changed. I need to talk with Father Flores.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “I can’t just sit here doing nothing! I’m a field agent, I belong in the field! Somewhere out there is the answer, or at least a clue. How can you guys figure out what's going on if no one is
out there digging for you? We're down to what, one team now?”

  He turned and left, going directly to Father Flores office.

  When he got there he had to wait, Father Flores was in a meeting. After thirty minutes or so a group of people left the room, no one that Mark recognized, lay people most likely.

  “Ah, Mark, what can I do for you my son? Come in please, come in.”

  Mark walked in and paced nervously in front of the Father’s desk as he got himself some tea from the side board.

  “Tea?”

  “No thanks Father,”

  “Might help calm you down a bit Mark.”

  “No, no I’m fine. I heard about the team in Poland.”

  Father Flores sighed and sat down, and took a sip of his tea. “Sit please,” He said with a wave of his hand, “Sit down Mark. Yes, I heard as well, just outside of Warsaw at the old concentration camp in Dzialdowo. There is a memorial there now to the many who died or were killed there. Apparently the site also housed one of the Nazi's arcane weapon groups from the war. Cardinal Ferdinand thinks we are seeing the results of some old Nazi experimental weapon. That the bonds are finally wearing down from age. I’m tended to agree.”

  “Wards don’t wear down Father.”

  “Normally, no. But the items they are placed on can decay. If these were supposed to be some sort of delayed set off, the wards were probably substandard to start with. They weren’t built to last this long. We know they rolled out a lot of stuff at the end of the war, stuff that they never even got to use.”

  “I’m not so sure Father. I want to go to Poland and take a look.”

  “And just what would that accomplish Mark?” Father Flores looked over his cup of tea at him, obviously annoyed. “I know you’re upset over losing Jake, and this other incident has everyone rather upset as well. I’m sending out Miles and Burton to check over the scene.”

  “But they don’t know what to look for!” Mark protested, “They haven’t been through this!”

  “They’re both seasoned and experienced professionals. David Miles has been on duty longer than you I might mention.”