Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (25 page)

"Continue to the train station," Gabriel commanded.

“How else can you influence the human mind?” He asked the Archangel. “That trick was slick.”

“You will understand through experience, not through lecture,” Gabriel said.

Griffin took three quick slurps of his delicious latte, dreading to throw so much of it away. Instead Griffin asked for a 'to go' cup and transferred the drink. They were out the door before Gabriel had a chance to complain. Griffin imaged Gabriel was enjoying the latte too.

Two blocks later Griffin crossed Liberty at Grant and walked up the pedestrian walk across the station parking lot. Like most AmTrak major stations, the Pittsburgh terminal was not grand. A large ornamental sand colored building set a top the ugly chipped concrete columns and plain walls. The station appeared to be out of the 1980’s and was out of place among the more modern glass and steel towers. There was a small queue of people purchasing train tickets. Griffin fell into line. His pants pockets bulging from hard currency.

"So, where are we going and why the train?" He asked within his mind.

Gabriel seemed to make a musical chuckle sound in his head.

"I've never been on a train," Gabriel replied.

"You're kidding? We’re going on a train because you want us to?” Griffin asked.

“No. Regardless this is our path. Purchase two tickets for New York City, Penn Station.” Gabriel thought to Griffin.

“I’ve never been to New York,” Griffin said matter-of-factly.

The Archangel didn't reply but Griffin could sense a level of excitement. Like a child but to a lessened degree. Still the excitement was there.

Trying not to dwell on Gabriel's giddiness Griffin did a few slow spins acting like he was expecting another person to join him in line. He scrutinized the general public within the station. His paranoia working overtime.

“No one in this building is looking for us, Griffin.” Gabriel chimed into his mind. “And, I'm not giddy.”

Griffin smiled. So did Gabriel.

“Giddy like a ten year old boy on Christmas morning,” Griffin thought, clearly making light of Gabriel's barely reigned in excitement.

The line cleared. Griffin had never purchased train tickets before today and the process took a few awkward questions to the clerk. Gabriel mirrored the answers inside his mind adding to the short term confusion.

Two tickets on the 30 Capitol Limited in their own Superliner Roomette, Four hundred eighteen dollars.

Griffin was careful not to land a pile of cash on the clerk's counter. He counted out bills from the cuff of his jean pocket before giving the bills to the clerk.

“Identification please,” the clerk asked taking the cash. A smallish older woman now presenting the look of 'You're an Idiot' on her face.

Griffin hesitated reaching for his drivers license in his wallet. He gave the clerk a confused look stalling for time.

“Do I give her my drivers license?” Griffin asked Gabriel in his mind.

“Yes,” was all Gabriel replied.

The delay prompted the clerk to ask for identification again, although louder in volume in case Griffin was hard of hearing or more stupid than she already imagined.

Griffin apologized, presenting his drivers license from his wallet.

She took the license with a quick, “Thank you,” and began typing his information into her computer terminal. Griffin slumped from feeling he was doing something fundamentally wrong in the 'trying to avoid the man' category. He took a small draw of his latte.

Griffin began to scan the station again for dark suites and even darker glasses. Since the station was small and well lit, the gesture was little more than a look over his shoulder.

“Here you are,” the clerk said handing Griffin his license and laying the tickets on the counter. She began to review the information on the tickets to confirm Griffin knew what he just purchased. Obviously, this gentlemen was slow, Griffin imaged she thought.

Gabriel made a sound in their heads. Somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.

“Two tickets on the Thirty Capitol Limited. One Superliner Roomette. Train leaves five twenty am Thursday morning, day after tomorrow, and arrives Penn Station at one ten in the afternoon,” she rambled expertly. “Do you have any questions Mr. Clark?” she asked.

“Mr. Clark?” Griffin thought to himself, almost saying it out loud.

“No darling,” Griffin smiled his reply, “you’ve met all my needs.”

Convinced

Joe looked at the screen as Bryce explained.

“When the P.O.I.'s debit card was scanned in the ATM it triggered an alert we setup with the cooperation of the local banks. The bank's technicians were able to give me the end point's six octave IP address of the card's initial request and a trace route of the IP traffic from the bank datacenter to the end point,” Bryce noted.

“And?” Joe asked certain there was more.

“That’s where this all got strange,” Bryce pointed at the screen. “The ATM machine didn't pass the request through the datacenter. The transaction went straight from the ATM machine to the end point. The bank's technicians were able to get a trace route from the machine but it closed almost immediately.”

“Closed?” Joe continued not understanding.

Bryce continued explaining, “Their technicians could not repeat the trace completely. The end point fell off the trace. Like it shut down. Again their technicians repeated the trace route and the subsequent new end point IP address fell off. The entire route was self deteriorating. It's brilliant.”

Joe looked up at Bryce starting to understand.

“But how do you know the ATM machine was answered by an account in Rome?” Joe asked, trying to get to the bottom.

“I was live on the phone with the bank when this was taking place, just before the ATM transaction ended,” Bryce was working himself up describing the chain of events. “Their tech gave me the endpoint IP and I could ping it from here for a second and I ran my own trace route. But, it collapsed before I could reach the end point. The last IP hop address I got was in Rome, Italy. Specifically, the Vatican.”

“Did you pull the camera data from the ATM?” Joe asked. He was hoping to confirm it was this Griffin DeLuca his team had profiled.

“Yes, we have it loaded,” Bryce said looking over to Mark. Mark tapped out a short command and the black and white video came up with sound. They all watched Griffin DeLuca from the waist up. He was wearing a T shirt and jeans though what color they had little idea. The back ground noise included people talking and the occasional vehicle but all heard Griffin tap out three sets of numbers.

“Any chance we can get video of the keypad?” Joe asked.

“Illegal since the NSA reform act of two thousand sixteen,” Bryce reminded Joe. “We can't collect a person's ATM codes.”

Joe only grunted as he made a hand gesture for Mark to restart the video.

A few moments passed as the video played through again.

“I counted thirty two digits,” Joe said looking at Bryce.

“Same as I counted,” Bryce added.

“And we don't know if he was entering in his address? Renting a movie? Hacking the Pentagon?” Joe asked.

“The ATM gave him eight thousand dollars,” Bryce said to Joe directly.

Joe just gawked at Bryce.

“Eight thousand dollars,” Bryce repeated. “Defeating every monetary protocol and law written since ATM machines were first introduced.”

“Do we know where Mr. DeLuca is now?” Joe asked looking around the operations room looking for the Turd Twins.

It was Louis who said, “Perry reported twenty minutes ago they lost him on the street. They've been unable to find him since."

It was Bryce who broke in, “Sir, we have more.”

Bryce pointed at Chris and said, “Show him.” Turning back to Joe, Bryce said, “We searched all of the video feeds from around the area where Tom Palocsik was killed. The duty roster indicated Palocsik was to tale DeLuca.”

A video came up on a large monitor on an opposite table. The feed was from a security camera mounted high observing the parking lot southwest of the scene. A sedan pulled up into a parking spot within the lot.

Bryce walked over to the monitor and pointed to a spot along the top of the video with a pen.

“Watch here,” Bryce said, as he pulled the pen away from the monitor.

Tom Palocsik's blue agency sedan pulled up and parked next to a building just shy of the parking lot the camera overlooked.

Joe walked closer to the monitor.

Griffin stepped out of the first car and walked left toward something unseen.

Tom was clearly visible watching Griffin DeLuca stroll across the lot.

Bryce pointed at the screen again with his pen and said, “DeLuca.”

Bryce made a twirling motion with his pen at Chris and the video began to fast forward. In the monitor dusk fell away to darkness. Cars came and went. Street lights came on. The video stopped its fast forward pace and played at the normal speed. A white hot line appeared on the video rendering the feed blanched white for three seconds before the lens adjusted and the bolt burn cleared from the camera.

In the seat next to Tom appear a large pale blue light. As the residual burn of the bolt melted away the pale blue light focused into a human form. Although Tom's sedan was seventy plus yards from the camera, on the opposite corner of the parking lot, the figure was recognizable to Joe.

Tom's body slumped over against the driver's glass.

“Piss and vinegar,” Joe said aloud. “I want Mr. DeLuca brought in for questioning.” Joe thought for a moment then changed his mind. “Wait. Activate his cell phone beacon. I want him found and when we find him I want to talk to him on the street.”

Joe got up and walked across the operations room for his office. Moments later he came back with a sheet of paper.

“He’s the court order Bryce. See that it's done,” Joe said.

Bryce took the order and read it carefully. It was legit. Bryce eyed Chris and slid the paper over to him. Chris took it and spun around to his computer.

Joe gave each member of his team a serious glance. then headed back to his office saying, “Let me know when you've located Mr. DeLuca.”

Rails

Griffin left the train station and headed back into downtown, walking west. He had a strong desire to call Itishree. Strong. In his mind he felt Gabriel agree and vague questions began to form. Both were curious how Itishree was taking this dramatic change in her life. Has she truly resigned herself to going? Would being pregnate change her life? Griffin couldn't tell who had thought of which question. Him or Gabriel. By now, at certain moments, Griffin was finding the separation difficult. He wanted to call Itishree. But, he needed to get off the street with his pockets ridiculously stuffed with currency.

When he had managed the car out of the parking garage and had exited onto sixth street, he inserted his headset and called Itishree. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello, this is Itishree,” she answered. Her accent pleasing him to no end. It was like bird song. Each sentence a new melody.

“Hi, it's me, Griffin,” he said unable to stop the smile that came over him.

“Hey Griffin,” Itishree sang, as women sing salutations. However, Griffin could hear the smile in her voice too.

“How are you holding up?” Griffin asked.

“I’m okay,” Itishree said.

“No you're not. You've flown halfway around the world to have your life floored by an Archangel, and told you're the next prophet of God. This is an aberration. You have my permission to wig out,” Griffin said.

“I have imagined the last few days have been a dream. I'm going to wake up any moment, and get dressed for my new job,” Itishree said soberly. “And then I recall how my life has come to this moment, this day, this reality, and I embrace my fate.”

And awkward pause came between them. Griffin didn't know how to answer such courage. Itishree was taking all of this far better than he.

“My father would be proud of me,” she said. “But I haven't called my mother. She is going to kill me.”

Griffin mentally asked Gabriel in his mind if there is anything he could do to lessen the worry of Itishree's relatives in India.

Gabriel's reply was a short, “Yes.” And then Griffin could feel Gabriel mute himself. Then he realized the conversation he was having with Itishree was more important than him simply missing her. It was part of the journey.

“Yes,” Gabriel whispered in his head. But this time there was no melody.

“I am proud of you too. You're amazing,” Griffin said. His emotion welling inside of him.

Gabriel made note of Griffin's powerful response.

“Can we spend the day together?” Griffin asked.

“I would like that very much,” Itishree replied. Again the smile could be heard in her inflection.

“Let’s go shopping!” Griffin said a little too excitedly.

“I enjoy shopping. What is the occasion?” Itishree asked.

“Our journey begins Thursday morning. We'll need supplies. Traveling clothes. I'll need luggage,” Griffin rambled.