“We all must make decisions with incomplete knowledge.
The courage we display when doing so
is what defines us.”
Master Penelope of Harrisburg
Masters Pietro and Theodore were looking at a console, deep in concentration. They had spent hours reviewing security footage of the Vigil's compound, looking for anything that might give away the identity of the killer.
Several cups of tea later, all they had come up with were a pair of stiff necks.
“The footage yields nothing. Brother Holland enters his room, the door remains closed until the following day when we arrive. Nobody enters or leaves, and only a handful of people walk the halls. So let us, once again, place what we know together,” said Master Pietro.
Master Theodore sighed. It was not like him to be impatient, but the death of one of his own, coupled with the complete lack of evidence was bearing down upon him.
“If we must,” he resigned.
“Brother Holland was killed by having the blood drained from his body. This would take some time, and skill, to perform,” said Master Pietro, “We know he had alcohol and chocolate and pornographic magazines, indulging in worldly pleasures. We know he was in correspondence with an unknown Alejandro de Feres regarding his infatuation with Sister Gertrude. Furthermore, Brother Marcus was at the sanitation facility and is now missing. While we might presume he is dead or taken, quite possibly by this Alejandro character, we might equally assume he has much to do with all of this. Until he or his body is found, and perhaps even afterward, we cannot rule him out as a suspect.”
He tapped his chin.
“If we put his disappearance to one side for a second, what if we concentrate on the draining of the blood?”
“Hmm. Well, to me that sounds like someone who had a grudge, and who had been reading too many books on autopsies,” harrumphed Master Theodore.
He poured some more tea.
“Sister Gertrude, or even Sister Ping, first come to mind. If Brother Holland's lust had been manifest into something more than urges, either might well have serious cause to despise him.”
“Sister Gertrude, we have seen from the footage, is never near the dormitories. So can we truly suspect Sister Ping?” asked Master Pietro, taking a biscuit.
“For the sake of moving this discussion forward, let us say yes. She knows the books of the library, and has no doubt read many more of them than anyone else.”
“It is also somewhat ritualistic, like a blood sacrifice,” mused Master Pietro, “The positioning of the body to stare up at the ceiling, or the stars. Two holes to let the blood... I have heard of it before, I just cannot think of what it is.”
“Move your mind away,” instructed Master Theodore, “Sometimes you can be so close that your nose tells you one thing, and your eyes another. Speak of something else.”
“Very well, but I know I shall not rest until I remember. Now, the assault on the facility. The uniforms. How can we not recognize them? Is there a military force on the planet that we do not know about?”
Master Theodore shook his head. There had been no insignia, no identifying traits. The weapons used were standard across many organizations, again nothing special.
“I think, Master Pietro, that the armor cannot be put to any known force. Special Operations branches do have a tendency to send their troops in undecorated, but something tells me this is neither Government nor Entity related.”
“Do we have an unseen enemy, then?”
“We do.”
“Hum. The assault was orchestrated with the help of Brother Holland, of this we can be certain. Searches of rooms have come up empty, but that is not to say that more of these latent cretins are not among us.”
“Yes. And the assault was performed with precision. Definitely trained troops with details of the facility. If Brother Marcus is guilty, and I know you highly suspect that he is, he could have provided such information.”
Master Pietro frowned deeply, “Ah yes, Marcus. I know I should still consider him my brother until proven otherwise, but with all my heart I believe him to be our greatest traitor. His disappearance is too coincidental, too convenient. Brother Holland, we know, is guilty, and by mere association I declare that... Voodoo!”
Master Theodore nearly dropped his tea at Master Pietro's exclamation.
“What, man?”
“That is what I have seen before: Voodoo. Ha, you were right. Sometimes the mind needs to be a bit distracted. It is an obscure religion, a sect, based in black magic, that placed a great emphasis on ritual, symbolism and biological sacrifice,” said Master Pietro in excitement, “Bloodletting was one of the rituals, I remember, along with posturing and being in a state of, of rapture.”
“Voodoo...” mused Master Theodore, “Black magic, yes?”
“If I am not mistaken, yes. Why?”
“Hum. Master Pietro, how does a magician make himself appear inside a locked cage?”
Master Pietro smiled, “You are on to something, you rascal!”
“I might be. But how does he do it? His assistant shows the audience that the cage is empty, locked securely, then covers it with a shroud. When the shroud is removed, the magician is miraculously inside the cage. How?”
“A trap door?”
“Hmm, does not help us in this instance. There is only some small plumbing and ventilation access points to any room in the dormitories, and the rest is solid concrete and stone. Ruling out any strange laws of physics, then, the only other way he can do it is if were in the cage in the first place.”
Master Pietro scratched his ear. He shrugged, “So... then the assassin must have been in there the whole time?”
“Yes... yes, I dare say you are right. But for how long? We have examined the footage days before and nobody has entered or left apart from Brother Holland.”
“And the only way in or out of that room is via the door. Let us, then, examine the door, and not the people. Master Pietro, if you will, rewind the section to before Brother Holland last entered the room. Yes, keep going back... a little slower... more...”
Several minutes went by as Master Theodore sat eagle eyed on the screen.
“Stop! There!”
The two looked closely at the console, their hearts beating in unison. Even though it was hard to make out, the grainy footage unquestionably showed Brother Holland's door open, apparently by itself, and then close again.
“Personal powered camouflage,” mused Master Pietro, “Which means it was a Vigil, or an ex-Vigil. No other corpus has that kind of technology yet. Well, now that we know what we are looking for, it explains a lot.”
“So, the assassin entered his room a good four hours prior. When did he leave?” asked Master Theodore.
After an extensive search, playing and replaying the video, they came up with nothing. The door had remained firmly closed after Brother Holland's return, all the way through Brother Alexis's repeated knocking, right up to when Masters Theodore and Pietro entered the room.
They played for a few minutes afterward while the forensic team sealed off the area.
Master Pietro scratched his head, “Even though the assassin was cloaked, there would be no way the forensic team would have missed him. So, again, how did he leave?”
“Ha! Ha ha! Well, perhaps it was when two doddering old fools opened the door to investigate, hmm?” said Master Theodore, “Think about it. The perpetrator could have slain Brother Holland, performed the positioning and ritual and had plenty of time to recharge the cloak. Then he makes his exit while all eyes were on the room.”
Master Pietro groaned, “Brilliant. So we have a murderer that we cannot identify, Holland is dead, Marcus is missing, Alejandro is unknown and we have nothing to lead us to the whereabouts of Ryan. But what we can say is that the assassin is or was a Vigil. Could we suspect his has something to do with...”
“Isaac? I am without a doubt. The words that Ryan spoke... His followers were cleansed, but only those that we found.”
Master Pietro tapped his palm, “That could be the problem. We found no more, and gave up looking. What if they did not disband? What if we started looking again, what would we find?”
Master Theodore leaned back in his chair and hummed. Master Pietro paced. Brother Tyrone knocked at the door.
“Come,” said Master Pietro.
“If I may, Masters, the dinner is about to be served in the hall,” said Brother Tyrone, bowing slightly.
Master Theodore looked up, “Hmm? Oh, very good, thank you, Brother. Say, before you go...”
“Yes, Master?”
“Brother Tyrone, you and Sister Karras took part in compiling a history on the Vigils, no? In particular, those that left the Brotherhood?”
“No, that was not me, Master, that was Brother Tung.”
“Ah, well, Master Pietro, I think we shall have to have an in-depth chat with Sister Karras and Brother Tung. If anything, the clues we have derived so far may well help us in deciding who our assassin is.”
“I am sorry Masters, but does this concern the death of Brother Holland?”
“Indeed it does, Brother,” said Master Pietro, “Do you have anything that might be useful?”
“Well, not exactly. I mean, I might.”
“Oh, out with it, Brother!”
“It is that there are rumors regarding, um, Brother Marcus and that he might be involved. They have grown worse ever since his disappearance. They are saying...”
Master Theodore held up his hand.
“Brother Tyrone,” he said, “Be calm. Rumors are beasts best slaughtered in the womb. Until the outcome of the investigation is released, you would do well to contain such rumors to yourself. You have heard the story of the Worm of Lambton?”
Brother Tyrone thought, then shook his head.
“I am afraid I have not, Master. Is it available in the library?” he asked.
“Surely, or you could look at any number of versions online. But allow me to ease your mind. Brother Marcus is still to be considered a Brother,” said Master Theodore, looking at Master Pietro, “Until such time as any guilt has been undeniably demonstrated on his part. Now let us sup, for I am old and growing older, and my stomach is empty and growing emptier!”