John Ringo - Queen of wands

“Well, I may have to transfer it,” Garson said, sighing. “We have a change of status on another case. A series of cases. The Madness cases.”

“Oh?” Kurt said, neutrally. Everybody in the office, everyone in the area, knew about the Madness cases. Technically a series of unrelated cases, they’d gotten tossed together because while the MOs and perps were different, the patterns were remarkably similar. In seven separate cases, otherwise more-or-less normal people had suddenly gone bat-shit nuts. Violently psychotic. They’d gone crazy, started attacking people around them, in one case partially cannibalizing a victim, and had never gotten their act back together. All seven were in long-term psychiatric holding, and the doctors couldn’t do more than dope them to the gills with antipsychotics.

“A consultant attached to the overall investigation has been injured,” Garson said carefully. “I was asked to find someone to assist the replacement. In your files there is reference to an unusual murder investigation you were involved in in Chicago. The South Side Cult Murders.”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt said, trying not to wince. The reality was, he had to get out of Chicago PD because of his final report on those murders. He’d been the guy who cracked the case, but putting in your report that you’d seen “a shadow” leave the body of the perp after he was shot and killed in the raid…Well, if Kurt had played it off and put it down to “combat fatigue,” it would have been one thing. But sticking by his statement and what he was sure he’d seen with his own damned eyes…

“What I’m about to explain to you his highly classified,” the Supervisory Special Agent said, interlacing his fingers and leaning forward. “Codeword Sierra Charlie. Sierra Charlie stands for Special Circumstances.”

Barb was used to the stares. It wasn’t that pretty women didn’t work for the FBI. It was that she was unusually pretty, and that attracted attention. Once upon a time, that had been a big thing for her. These days she found it to be a pain. And it was only getting worse.

The bag over her shoulder with the black cat head poking out of it, said cat looking around with interest, didn’t help.

She really didn’t care at the moment. “Focused” didn’t begin to cover it. Laser beams were lazy compared to Barb.

“Barbara Everette, Foundation for Love and Universal Faith, to see Supervisory Special Agent Garson,” she said in one sharp rush.

The rent-a-cop manning the security station couldn’t seem to get past the various views. He shifted from her face to the chest to the cat then back to the face, and his mouth opened.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” Barb asked.

“Uh…ma’am, you’re on the list,” the guard said, finally looking at his computer screen. “But cats aren’t allowed…”

“Fine,” Barb said, switching to command tone and whipping a copy of her affidavit out of the bag. “I’m crazy. Under the Americans with Disabilities Act, the cat comes with me. I need him or I get all upset. This isn’t upset. This is firm. You don’t want to see upset. Just call SSA Garson and tell him I’m here. Is that simple enough for you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said, picking up the phone.

“Hubba, hubba, hubba,” Special Agent Spornberger said at the sight of the woman. He was watching her through the glass of the supervisor’s office, and it was apparent she hadn’t seen him yet.

“Let me remind you of the department’s policy on sexual harassment, Kurt,” SSA Garson said, sighing.

“Understood, sir,” Kurt said, wonderingly. “But she’s stacked like a brick shi-”

“I get the point, Agent Spornberger,” Garson snapped. “Now can it.”

“SSA Garson,” Barb said professionally as she strode into the room. “I’m Mrs. Barbara Everette.”

“Mrs. Everette,” Garson said, standing up and shaking her hand. “This is Special Agent Spornberger. He will be assisting you on this investigation. He has…previous experience outside the Bureau and has been briefed in on SC investigations.”

“Hello,” Barbara said, extending her hand.

“Nice cat,” Kurt replied, shaking it. He slowed in his shaking and then shifted his grip.

“If you want me to put you on your knees, Special Agent, continue,” Barbara snapped, shifting her own.

“Tao-ki?” Kurt asked, withdrawing his hand.

“Yes,” Barbara replied, wrinkling her brow.

“Bu dao huang he xin bu si.”

“Bu dao huang he xin bu si.”

“Tiansheng wo cai bi youyong,” Barbara said, smiling thinly.

“I think I’m in love?” Kurt said, his eyes wide.

“Note the ‘Mrs.,’ Agent Spornberger,” Barbara said, tartly. “And I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, who, forgiveness or not, looks poorly upon extramarital affairs. So put your dick back in your pants and your tongue back in your head or I’ll rip both off and feed them to you.”

“I’m sort of new to the bureau,” Kurt said, puzzled. “Was that sexual harassment?”

“No, that was her promising to kick your ass, Agent Spornberger,” Garson said, trying not to grin. “But the question I have to ask, Mrs. Everette, is, can you work with him? Because this is, alas, Kurt. We’ve been trying to potty train him for the last couple of years and so far it’s had no effect.”

“The problem is not ‘can I work with him,’ but; can he survive,’” Barbara said, sighing. She sat down and laid Lazarus’s bag on her lap, letting the cat out to sniff around the room. “In these investigations, legally or not, the truth is that the Bureau agent is the innocent bystander. The civilian, in other words. We have to work with the Bureau and local law enforcement agencies, but we’d rather not. Because while the casualty rate of our agents is high, the casualty rate of the agents we’re assigned is higher. Agent Spornberger, you clearly have some martial-arts skills, and you’re old enough you may have some street skills. But this is a different kind of street and you are no more powerful than a baby on it. Can you face the fact that there may come a time when I tell you to run away as fast as you can, and if you don’t, you’re going to die? And probably have your soul ripped out and taken straight to hell?”

“Well, ma’am,” Kurt said, grinning uneasily. “You clearly have some martial-arts skills, but…”

“That’s the problem,” Barb said, looking at Garson. “The ‘but…’ That, right there, is almost sure to get him killed no matter what I do. Because there is no ‘but.’ Special Agent, are you a Believer in any religion? What religion are you?”

“Catholic, ma’am,” Kurt said. “I mean, I’m sort of Catholic. I haven’t been to confession in…”

“Then you are totally unprotected,” Barb said. “It’s like going on a drug raid without a vest. Or a gun. Or backup. Even if whatever we’re dealing with can be deflected by a cross, for example, you have to believe in the cross and be in touch with your God. And your God has got to believe in you. Otherwise, you’re totally and completely scr…unprotected, Agent Spornberger. With what we may be up against, it may be necessary for me to kill you, Agent Spornberger. If you cannot, when the time is right, follow my instructions to the letter. And I don’t think that you can.”

“Mrs. Everette, if you wish, I’ll replace him,” Garson said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“Do you have any other agents with experience in the paranormal?” Barb asked, looking Spornberger up and down.

“None,” Garson said. “Including me. I’ve been briefed on SC, I’m aware of some of the reports, the stories. But I can’t say that I’m totally convinced.”