The Hammer Commission Read online

  “One year, big deal,” Mark snorted.

  “So are you telling me that ‘only you’ can solve this case? If indeed these are even related?” Father Flores said putting down his tea cup and looking at him.

  Mark sighed and looked down at the desk top, remembering how he had felt those times in the past when he’d gotten in trouble here. Father Flores and he had butted heads a couple of times early on, to his own shame. Father Gregory had even taken Mark to task for his behavior. “No Father,” Mark said eyes downcast, “I don’t doubt their ability.”

  “Look, I understand. You’re still in mourning; it’s been quite a shock. You’ve got a lot of time off coming and it’s not like the world is going to end tomorrow. Take a month off. Go back to your home in the states for a while.”

  “Is that an order or a suggestion Father?” Mark asked finally sitting down.

  “More of a request. Everyone is supposed to get some off time when they lose a team member or partner, and I know we've been working you very hard the last couple of years. See Marilyn on the way out. I’ll have her set everything up.”

  “Yes Father,” Mark said and got up. "Can I at least start looking for a new partner?" He asked as he started for the door.

  "I really don't think this would be a good time for that."

  "Father," Mark said doing his best to keep his voice down and free of emotion, "it would help me to deal with Jake's death. There had been talk about the two of us training some of the new recruits. I'd like to at least continue with that."

  Father Flores sighed, "I'll see what I can do Mark. Now please, go home, get some rest."

  Mark nodded and left the room closing the door behind him. Marilyn had a sympathetic look for him and an itinerary already in her hand.

  "I have you booked on a commuter flight to Madrid tomorrow morning with a connecting flight to the States after that."

  "Thanks Marilyn," he said and taking the paper went back to his room.

  Mark shook his head looking out of the window of his room as the sun set outside. He just couldn't believe that they were sending him ‘home’ for some rest and relaxation, in the middle of a crisis! He hadn’t been home in nearly a year, and even then it was only for a few days when he and Jake had passed through Oregon. He had a small condo outside of Portland, the only reason he had even that was because they were required to have a residence.

  He should be going to Poland; he needed to go back to Paris. But once again he let Father Flores cow him. He hated doing that, but he had promised Father Gregory that he wouldn't fight with Flores anymore and he always tried to keep his promises.

  Still, it felt to him like he was being shuffled off to the side out of the way. He wondered if Flores blamed him for what had happened. He and Jake were the best team the Commission had; they always were put on the tough jobs and had more contacts than anyone else. Or maybe Flores had lost faith in him? Maybe he'd never had much faith in Mark in the first place?

  Mark and Jake had worked out a sort of 'Mutt and Jeff' routine over the years, and had stuck to it because it worked for them. Jake was more of the friendly talker with the flashier personality, while Mark was the darker, quieter one who didn't mince words and carried the wrath of God around, and wasn't afraid to use it.

  It wasn't exactly 'good cop / bad cop', but then they weren't exactly dealing with criminals either. Devils, demons, monsters, spirits, they didn't deal with people as people dealt with each other, they expected stereotypes. And as long as you fit into ones that they could grasp, it made working with them a lot easier. However Mark wondered, not for the first time, if people in the organization had started to believe the roles.

  And then, and then last of all was what Jake had done in the church. Jake probably knew the details of just what had happened, and who was responsible. Devils gloat and Angels can be down right chatty. That little gesture he had flashed was a warning, letting Mark know that he personally was in the shit. That both puzzled and worried him the most, because the dead were not supposed to be able to pass on such personal warnings, there were strict rules that governed the spheres, as well as the war.

  But Jake had at the very least bent one, if not broken it all together. Only God or one of the Archangels could allow such a thing to happen, and that worried Mark more than anything.

  3

  The highway was open and fairly straight. The cars on it might as well be standing still as he raced by them and sped through the night. One joker in a corvette tried to race him, but down two gears and a wide open throttle and the car quickly was lost behind him as one hundred and sixty quickly appeared on the speedometer. By the time they got up to that kind of speed he’d be miles ahead. He never understood why people in cars wanted to race bikes. Stock his bike did one eighty six.

  It was definitely no longer stock.

  The miles quickly passed by, he was up in the mountains now on highway 26, dealing with the long sweepers and having to downshift and occasionally slow for a few of the tighter corners. In another half hour he’d turn around and head back, eventually descending out of the mountains and back into the small town outside of Portland that he called home. Tomorrow he'd deal with his kids and his family that he hadn't seen in almost a year, but for now it was just him, the bike, and the road as he sped through the mountains.

  They all had their little sins, their little vices. This was his.

  Suddenly, as he was coming out of a long sweeper the engine went dead.

  He swore loudly inside his helmet. The headlight was still on, the oil pressure dropped off, the temperature was normal. There had been no sudden vibration, the engine hadn't coughed, he still had gas.

  He checked the kill switch, the fuel petcock, and just as he noticed that the key was still in the 'on' position he saw the lights up ahead on the side of the road: Red and blue. He swore again. He was under a hundred at this point, eighty and slowly losing speed. He squeezed the brakes and pulled in front of the police car and stopped.

  He pulled his helmet off and started taking off his jacket.

  "Hold it right there," A woman's voice said.

  Mark stopped what he was doing. "My wallet is in my pants pocket, I need to get my gear off to get it."

  "How do I know you don't have a gun?"

  Mark laughed. "I can't even see you and I'm all lit up sitting on a dead bike. Trying to shoot you would be suicide. Besides, the jacket is armored, taking it off makes me even more vulnerable."

  "You a cop or something?" She asked.

  "Or something." Mark agreed. "Can I take the jacket off?"

  "Just don't make any sudden moves."

  Mark nodded and took the jacket off slowly, then held it off to the side and dropped it. Next he unzipped his riding pants enough to be able to reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet.

  "Get off the bike slowly."

  "Sure, just don't shoot me if I trip over my pants when they fall down around my ankles."

  She let him get off, and then get his license out which he handed to her along with his ID card.

  "What's this?" She asked after making him stand bent over the hood of her car.

  "Diplomatic ID."

  "You serious?"

  "Yup."

  "It says 'Vatican City'".

  "That's correct officer. Call it in if you want to."

  "I'll do that."

  Mark watched as she stepped back from him and called it all in on her radio. Bent over a squad car wasn't the best vantage point, and her uniform with the obvious bullet proof vest underneath didn't help much, but she looked kind of attractive, dark skin, short black hair, and athletic figure.

  Suddenly he wondered if someone was trying to set him up on a date? Angels could have a strange sense of humor sometimes and the way his bike shut off wasn't exactly what he'd consider 'natural'. But they had to know he had enough women in his life and didn't want anymore.

  "Well Mister Levin. It appears that you're not going to jail tonight," She sa
id walking back over and handing him his ID as he slowly stood up. "Care to tell me just what you're doing up here at two in the morning driving in excess of the posted limit?"

  "Only if you tell me what a Clackamas County Sheriff is doing up here at this time of night as well," Mark said smiling and looking at her name tag, "Officer Keen."

  The look of mixed embarrassment and anger was easy to make out even sitting on the side of the road at night.

  "That is none of your business Mister Levin." She said sharply. "Furthermore, while I may not be able to arrest you, I can and will write you a summons for your excessive speeding."

  "You know they'll only dismiss it."

  "Maybe your bosses will punish you were mine obviously can not." she said almost growling it out.

  Mark shrugged, "Knock yourself out," and walked over to the bike. If it wouldn't run, he'd have to call a tow truck. He pushed the start button and the bike started up without a hitch.

  Curious. Putting on his gear he turned and watched Officer Keen as she wrote him up for speeding, then spent another half hour looking over his bike and writing him up for every little thing she could find, which fortunately wasn't too much.

  During all this time a State Police car drove by and didn't even stop. Apparently someone wasn't very popular Mark guessed.

  "Have a good day and please drive safely," she said when she finally handed him the ticket.

  Mark smiled and saluted. Getting on his bike he drove off heading back to his rarely used condo, and as soon as he was out of sight he kicked the speed up a little, though not quite as fast as before. He had something to think about. They wanted him to meet her that was obvious. But why? She definitely was nice looking and appeared to know how to take charge of a situation and use a gun. She hadn't taken any chances with him until she knew he was safe, but then again if she was any good why was she on a punishment detail? And why hadn't the State Trooper stopped? This time of night they were usually looking for an excuse to BS with everyone and anyone.

  He'd been here several days now, and out of sheer boredom he'd started working on his bike when he wasn't on the phone to Spain leaning on anyone and everyone he knew to get a new partner. Early this morning he'd called Cardinal Richards and asked for a favor. If that didn't shake things lose he didn't know what would.

  When he got home he took the time to wipe the bike down and make sure it was clean and shutting off the tank he drained the bowls on the carbs. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be doing any riding for a while.

  He woke to the sound of his phone ringing, groaning he looked at the clock, six a.m., he’d been asleep for maybe two hours.

  “Hello?”

  “Mark Levin please?”

  “Marilyn, it’s six in the morning here,” he grumbled.

  “Oh sorry, I forgot. But I thought you might want to hear this immediately.”

  “I’m back on active status?”

  “Not exactly. However I’ve been told you’ve been cleared for a new partner, and they’re putting a list of candidates together now.”

  “Candidates? Does that mean what I think it does?”

  “Afraid so, you’re getting a new recruit. They’re even making you do the recruiting.”

  Mark sighed, “Well at least it’s something.”

  “I was told they’ll have the list of candidates to you by this afternoon.”

  “Thanks Marilyn,” Mark said and hung up the phone. A partner was a start at least, he’d have to start calling some of his contacts and finding out what they knew. Right after he went back to sleep.

  The very next day Mark was standing in a church in Portland looking at a folder and examining the woman in front of him as she stood at attention staring at the wall behind him and realizing that yes, Father Flores did hate him. He hated Mark a lot.

  What made it even worse was that this was the officer who had pulled him over last night and she recognized him just as quickly as he had recognized her.

  “You shot your partner?” Mark said looking up at her.

  She didn’t reply, just stood there at attention.

  “This isn’t the academy, or the military. Now answer my question: You shot your partner?”

  “Sorry sir, I didn’t realize that was a question. Yes, I shot my partner. Sir.” She said crisply.

  “Care to tell me why?”

  “It’s all there in the report Sir,” she was still looking straight ahead.

  Mark stood up and got in her face, he had a bad feeling about this and it wasn’t getting any better. “I didn’t ask the freaking report, I asked you!” He yelled it at her.

  “He crossed my line of fire during the shoot out Sir, it was an accident, even the review board cleared me.”

  “I noticed he hasn’t forgiven you.”

  She turned red at that.

  “I see you lost your previous partner after a car wreck, care to explain that?”

  “Just pure bad luck Sir. A truck lost its load as we were pulling it over.”

  Mark glanced at her file jacket again. The local police kept good files he had to admit.

  “Five years as a cop and you’ve gone through not only two partners who were medical'ed out, but you lost three others, and have been in trouble more times than I’ve wanted to count while reading through this.” Mark looked back up at her and shook his head.

  “Well sir, with all due respect Sir, I’ve been promoted twice.”

  “Yes, I see that. Promoted to get you out of one person’s hair and into someone else’s no doubt”

  He sighed and walked back to the desk. Judith Keen. There was only one person the ‘recruitment committee’ had chosen, Judith Keen. Originally a Portland cop, twice promoted, twice decorated for bravery and recently farmed out to the Clackamas Sheriff's office on a personnel 'loan'. Her previous assignment was narcotics and she got crossed up with some of the Commission's guys investigating a new trend in drugs used for arcane purposes. For some strange reason they had liked her and apparently keeping her mouth shut was one of her better traits.

  It was her or he’d have to wait until they found someone else. And that could be a long time. A very long time.

  Time that he didn't have.

  “Sir, I resent what you are implying. Does this have anything to do with an actual assignment? Or is this simply payback for giving you a ticket?”

  Mark looked up at the ceiling exasperated and started to wonder if Jake was bribing the angels to make his life miserable. It was Hobson’s choice and apparently the folks ‘upstairs’ didn’t want him wasting time trying to get someone else. He now understood just why his bike had died in the mountains.

  He looked back at officer Keen. “Then prepare to be resentful for a long time. Now come over here, raise your right hand and put your left one on the bible there."

  She blinked at him, “Sir?”

  “You’re hired, and it’s ‘Mark’ not ‘Sir’."

  Judith walked up to the table and raising her right hand put her left one on the Bible.

  "Repeat after me; I Judith Keen do solemnly swear,"

  "I Judith Keen, do solemnly swear" she repeated.

  Mark continued then, stopping every few words to let her repeat; " to obey the orders of my superiors, protect the weak and the innocent from evil, to combat the works of Satan and the other devils, and protect all that is good and holy, so help me God."

  Mark smiled and shook her hand as she finished.

  "Welcome aboard. Now go clean up your affairs and be back here as soon as you can today. We have a plane to catch this evening.”

  “I see, umm Mark. Where are we going?”

  “Paris, I need to do some investigating.”

  “Paris? But they told me there’d be training first!” She looked surprised.

  “I don’t have time for that and as you’re my new partner, neither do you. Any problems with that?”

  She blinked. “What happened to your last partner?”

  “He’s dead.
Ripped to shreds by a very large devil.” He smiled at the shocked expression on her face. “Now you know how your partners feel. Still in?”

  She paled but she nodded and left.

  Mark tossed her file in the shredder and sat down behind the desk of the borrowed office he was using. He had talked to one of his connections in the police department; the Commission had connections in all the major police departments of course. The woman he'd talked to, Joyce, had given Mark the off the record run down on his new partner. Judith didn’t have much of a future in the police, no one would partner with her anymore, and word was that her ability to screw things up was legendary already. She even fell off a five story roof once while trying to talk down a suicide.

  However her luck apparently was legendary as well. A hay truck just happened to be going by. In downtown Portland of all places. Apparently the driver had been lost. These things weren’t in the official record however because they were either too strange to be true, or just too funny. They all thought she was jinxed and bad luck on top of that as well. She might never get hurt, but the people around her often did.

  “So what do you think of her?” Joyce had come in after Judith had left the room.

  “That she’ll be the death of me,” He sighed and looked at his watch.

  Joyce laughed, “Then why’d you take her?”

  “No choice really. I need someone and I need them now.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Mark shook his head, “No it doesn’t, not good at all. At least she seems to have some good luck to offset all the bad.”

  “Yes, but it seems to only save her.”

  He nodded, “Yes, apparently my boss is hoping she’ll be the death of me as well.”

  “You can’t really believe that, can you?”

  Mark shrugged, “Somehow I must have managed to piss him off and after seeing this, well there isn’t much else I can believe.”

  “You know, I still don’t know exactly what it is you guys do anyway…” Joyce trailed off on the unasked question.