If Angels Fall

FIFTY-FOUR

The smell of hot food wafted from the basement windows of Our Lady Queen ofTearful Sorrows Roman Catholic Church on Upper Market. Turgeon was talking onher cellular phone to an SFPD dispatcher who was directing four marked radiocars to the area.

“Tell them to take up compass points a block back, outof sight of the church.” She trailed Sydowski and Florence Schafer down thestairs through a rear metal door.

They came upon the kitchen, steamy and noisy with adozen volunteers grappling trays of food, dodging each other.

“Louey!” Florence called over the din. “He’s thekitchen boss.” Louey wiped a cleaver on his stained apron. He was in histhirties, had a three-day growth of beard, and the bleary eyes of an A.A.candidate. Florence introduced the inspectors saying they were looking forsomebody and everything was fine.

“How many exits to the basement here, Louey?” Sydowskisaid.

Three: the back, the front,”-Louey pointed to a farcorner with the cleaver-“and that stairway to the sacristy.”

“Thanks.”

“Anybody I know?” Louey said.

“Who?”

“The guy you are looking for.”

Sydowski glanced at Florence, who put her hand onLouey’s arm.

“You don’t know him. He’s one of my old friends. Theinspector just wants his help.”

“Yeah? For what?”

“We’ll let you in on it a little later,” Sydowski toldhim. Louey went back to work.

Sydowski went to the kitchen door to check the layout.It was like a bingo hall with two sections of row upon row of long tablesdivided by a middle aisle. A fire marshal’s certificate near the door put thecapacity at four hundred. Supper had begun. Less than two dozen people wereseated and eating. A few hundred more were queued at the serving tables at thekitchen end of the hall. Volunteers dished up meals and encouragement.

Sydowski decided to give it some time. He and Turgeonknew Virgil Shook’s general description and his tattoos. In a few minutes theywould join the volunteers casually walking the hall.

“If he’s out there today, we’ll have the uniformscover the exits. Linda and I will take him quietly while he’s eating.” Sydowskiremoved his tie and suggested Turgeon let her hair down. “We don’t want to looktoo obvious.”

Barney Tucker, a retired diesel mechanic and devoutCatholic, greeted the shelter’s “guests” at the door, his stomach expanding thewords: JESUS IS LOVE on his T-shirt. Barney clasped his big hand warmly overVirgil Shook’s as Shook passed by with the others making their way to theserving table.

“Nice to see you friend,” Barney said.

Shook ignored him, breathing in the aroma of turkey,beef, peas, corn, tomato soup, baked potatoes, fresh buns, and coffee.Sustenance, sanctuary, and pity from the pious. The God bless yous blended withthe tinkling of cutler as the holy ones tended their miserable flock. Contemptslowly painted Shook’s face. He battled the urge to scream: Do you know whoI am? If they knew, they would bend their knees.

Shook’s migraines had started again. Cranium quakes.Aching in his head, his groin. Fuck, it hurt. He needed to love again. It hadbeen too long. So long. He searched the hall for someone. Maybe that littletemptress from Nevada? Daisy of the incredible blue eyes. He couldn’t find her.Fuck. The food line passed the cardboard donation box and he deposited anickel.

Turgeon patrolled the far aisle, carrying a plate of freshbuns, wishing she were in jeans and a sweatshirt instead of a blazer-skirtcombo. She did her best, smiling, scouring exposed arms for tattoos and facesfor features matching Shook’s composite.

She stifled a yawn. She had not been sleeping well. Atnight, lying alone in bed, she was attacked by fear for Gabrielle Nunn andDanny Becker. She could not switch off Shook’s confession. They had to bringthis all to an end. Were they too late?

A possibility jumped at Sydowski as he went from tableto table, topping glasses with a pewter pitcher of milk. If they spotted Shook,spotted him clean with Shook making them, then maybe they could hold offgrabbing him so they could surveil him. He might lead them to the children. Ifthey were still alive. He might lead them to evidence. They could also, losehim. He could abduct another child. It was a risk Sydowski weighed, studyingthe line that reached from the serving table to the door, searching fortattoos, the right body type and face. He constantly checked to be sure hissports jacket was buttoned so his gun was unseen. He concentrated, taking stockof the hall, the exits. How fast could he make them if Shook bolted? What wouldhe do?

Florence’s scalp tingled. She saw the flames. Thebroken heart. And the cobra curled around Virgil Shook’s left forearm.

It was him. In line, making his way to the servingtable.

“Whatzamatter, Florence? You look like you seen aghost.”

“Huh?”

“Something catch your eye, there?” Marty, an ancientbottle-and-can collector, smiled at her from his plate of food, then followedher gaze across the hall to the long line of people waiting to be served.

“Oh. No, Marty. I’m sorry.” Florence distracted him byputting her hand on his frail shoulder. “Ran off with my thoughts, I guess.Say, how about some gravy for that turkey?”

“Well, I don’t want nobody goin’ out of their way.” Atoothless smile came out from hiding in Marty’s grizzled beard.

“No trouble for a handsome man like you.”

Florence stole another glimpse of Shook. Their eyeslocked, charging her with raw panic. She looked away, struggling to conceal it,squeezing Marty’s shoulder.

“Gravy. Coming right up, Marty.”

Lord Jesus, please help me! Was she running to thekitchen? She didn’t know, or care. She was numb with fear and ordered herselfto be strong. Be calm for the children.

“Careful!”

She nearly ran into a volunteer carrying an urn of hotsoup inside the kitchen door. She leaned against a wall, gasping. Louey came toher. “Florence, you okay? What the hell is going on?”

What the fuck was it with that little bitch? Why wasshe gawking at him like that? Like she knew something about him. Shook couldn’tplace her. Fuck it. Let it simmer. He had enough to think about right now, likethe letters. It had been a week. Nothing had surfaced in the news. Nothing tohelp him get off. The blue meanies keeping a lid on it, denying him thepleasure of increasing San Francisco’s pain. What would the Zodiac do? Send theletters to the press, threaten harm if they weren’t published.

Slices of turkey and roast beef were heaped on Shook’splate next to a mountain range of mashed potatoes.

“Welcome, friend,” a young woman volunteer said.

Shook was cold to her kindness. Moving down theserving table, he grimaced. His pain was nearly unbearable, his need to loveagain was overwhelming and this other player, New Fuck, made it too hot tohunt. The letters, the game with the priest were poor substitutes for the realthing. He couldn’t’ stand it any longer. He had to do something.

Kindhart.

They could hunt together. Shook could plan somethinglike he did with Wallace. Grab a little prostitute, enjoy her, and turn up theheat. It would be rapturous. But where was Kindhart these days? He seemed to bescarce. Fuck him. Shook could do it himself. He grabbed a couple of buns and ithit him again. Who was that twitching dwarf gaping at him back there? She wasfamiliar, yet he couldn’t place her. Why had she acted so strange? Pious littlecunt. Maybe he would give her a lesson in humility.

Shook bit savagely into a bun and headed for asolitary table.

***

Florence was hysterical.

“It’s him! It’s him! Sweet Lord, he saw me!”

“Listen to me, Florence! Take a deep breath!” Sydowskisaid.

Turgeon was on the cellular phone. “Have the unitsmove in to the church exits now! No lights, no screamers!”

Florence was sobbing. Sydowski was bent over, holdingher shoulders in his big hands, comforting her. Turgeon pinpointed Shook fromthe kitchen door.

“I’ve got him, Walt. Doesn’t look like he suspectsanything yet-yes.” Turgeon described Shook over the phone, “Caucasian, whiteT-shirt, beard.”

“Good work, Florence. It will be over with soon.”

Curious kitchen staff had gathered in a circle.

“Folks, this is San Francisco Police business. It is amatter of life and death that you tell no one we are here.” Sydowski flashedhis shield. “Please. It’s important that you carry on.

“What exactly is going on, officer?” one man asked.

“Sir, we will tell you later. Please. Your help isvital now.”

“Walt, dispatch called the TAC Team.”

“We’ll sit on him until they get here.”

“And if he runs, Walt?”

Sydowski didn’t answer. He went to the door for a lookat Shook.

He sat alone, back close to the wall, stabbing at hisfood with his right hand, his left forearm draped defensively around his plate,displaying his tattoos, letting the world know he was a motherfucker. Hescanned the hall continuously, trusting nothing. It was the way you ate inside.Old habits died hard. But he never faced trouble here. It was one of the thingshe liked about Our Lady. That, and the fact that it was clean. The hall wasclean and the church was clean, smelling of candle wax and lemon furniturepolish. Pure and clean.

That was it.

Shook stopped chewing.

She cleaned upstairs. Polished the pews. And she wasalways there when he visited the priest! He had a clear line to the kitchendoor as a thin young man carrying a tub of dirty dishes entered. In the halfsecond the door opened, Shook saw a professional-looking woman in a blazertalking on a phone. And he saw that little slut talking to a man in a suit,with gray hair, tanned face-he recognized him from TV news.

He was a fucking cop!

Shook’s pulse rate exploded. The little bitch wastelling them about him.

They had come for him!

Shook heard the squeak of brakes, an engine idling.Through a cracked basement window, he saw the car’s rocket panels, it’sblack-and-white paint scheme. The window was too small to get through.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Uniformed officer Gary Crockett joined Sydowski andTurgeon in the kitchen, a radio in his hand.

“Use your earpiece,” Sydowski demanded. “Tell theothers.”

Crockett relayed their order through his radio.

“You got bodies at all the exits?” Turgeon asked him.

Crockett nodded. “Who’ve we got?”

“Suspect in the child abductions-shit!”

Sydowski saw the Channel 5 Live News van pull up tothe rear.

“Crockett, have somebody keep the press back!”

“TAC is rolling, Walt,” Turgeon said from her phone.“Yes. Patch him through-Walt, it’s Lieutenant Gonzales.”

He took the phone. “Leo. It’s our boy.” His eyes wereon Shook.

“We need him, Walt. Sit on him ‘til TAC gets there.”

“I know my job, Leo.”

“I’m ten minutes from you. Rust and Ditmire are ontheir way.”

“Jesus!” Sydowski tossed the phone to Crockett. “He’smade us. Linda, come on! Crockett have your people move in when I shout.”

Shook rose, walking calmly to the door. He heard theirfootsteps on the hardwood floor behind him.

“One moment please!” It was the male pig.

Shook’s stomach tightened. He kept walking. He was notgoing back inside. Never going back. He reached down into his boot. “Police!Stop right there!”

The economy had cost Dolores Lopez her job cleaningtoilets in the office towers of the financial district. Her boss, Mr. Weems,was a born-again Christian who cried when he let Dolores go. She was a singlemother with four children. She didn’t know what she was going to do. In onemonth, she would lose her apartment on Potrero Hill. Every day she prayed tothe Virgin who smiled upon her. They had found Our Lady’s shelter last week andMr. Weems had arranged a job interview tomorrow with a cleaning firm inOakland. Dolores was telling her children to never abandon hope, to always payhomage to the Mother of Jesus, when she felt her hair being torn from her head,as she was lifted by an arm crushing her neck.

The steel point of a knife was pressed solidly belowher eye.

She heard shouting, but did not scream.

“Mama! Mama!” Carla, her three-year-old daughter, ranto her. Someone pushed her back. Dolores pulled weakly at the arm around herthroat. And she prayed because she knew she was going to die.

Please, Holy Mother, watch over my children.

Sydowski pulled his Glock from his hip holster.Turgeon had her Smith amp; Wesson trained on Shook’s head.

“Drop the knife, now!” Sydowski was ten feet away.Turgeon moved to Shook’s side. Shook glanced at her and said nothing.

“Everybody on the floor!” Sydowski locked eyes withShook. “Don’t be stupid! Release the woman! We want to talk!”

Two uniformed officers entered the doorway, gunsdrawn. Sydowski noticed the eye of a TV news camera peeking through one of thebasement windows. His fingers were sweating on the trigger of his gun. He hatedthis. Christ, did he hate this. Shook was encircled, four guns aimed at him.Sydowski ordered the officers into a pattern to avert crossfire.

“You can leave here dead, or you can leave here alive.But you are not leaving with the woman. Drop the knife now and release her.”

“Let me out of here or she dies and it’s on you!”

Shook cut Dolores with the knife, blood spurted downher cheek. Her children screamed.

“Officer!” Sydowski was talking to the uniform fifteenfeet from Shook’s right shoulder. “Do you have a clear head shot?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Don’t try it, pig! You’ll hit her! Let me outta here.I ain’t going back in the fuckin’ hole.”

“We just want to talk, Virgil.”

“I ain’t going back!”

Dolores’s face was a half mask of blood. Shook twistedthe knife.

Sydowski holstered his gun, raised his open hands, andeased forward. “We want to talk, Virgil. Please, let her go.”

When Shook relaxed his arm to reposition it acrossDolores throat, she bit into his bicep and stomped on his foot. Shook winced,and she broke away grabbing Sydowski’s outstretched hand, flinching when sheheard two shots.

They were deafening. The first bullet hit Shook in thelower neck shredding his internal and external jugulars, exiting into theceiling. The next destroyed his trachea and spleen before lodging in hisstomach. The knife went flying. He dropped to the floor.

The uniform officer was frozen, his gun stillextended. There were screams, sirens, and the smell of gun powder. Policeradios crackled. Turgeon called for an ambulance. Dolores Lopez embraced herchildren.

Shook was on his back, making gurgling noises, bloodand vomit oozing from his mouth. His white T-shirt was glistening crimson.Sydowski was on his knees, trying to obtain a dying declaration. Turgeon wasthere with him, listening.

“What’s your name?” Sydowski said.

Shook made unintelligible noises.

“Where are the children, Virgil?”

Shook’s mouth moved. Sydowski placed an ear over it.Nothing.

Sydowski touched his fingers to Shook’s neck. Wasthere a pulse?

Gonzales rushed in. “How bad is it?”

Turgeon shook her head. Sydowski bent over Shook’smouth again.

Special FBI Agents Rust and Ditmire arrived.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Ditmire said. “Fuckingbeautiful.”

Shook was still making noises when paramedics beganworking on him. “It’s bad. We’re losing him,” one of them said.

Sydowski stood, and ran his hand over his face.Walking away, he grabbed a chair, smashing it against the wall under thequotation:

IT IS IN DYING THAT WE ARE BORN TO ETERNAL LIFE.