CHAPTER 17 ~ KNOWN

Catherine awoke the next morning certain that Jason Walker was the prime suspect, her apprehension about Vincent’s possible involvement gone completely. As she readied for work, she let her new confidence fill her, adding in a healthy dose of remorse about her doubt, hoping Vincent would feel it. If she never saw him again, she hoped he would know her fear had dissipated.

* * *

Vincent entered Father’s chamber the next morning, joining him in conference with Pascal and Winslow, standing before Father’s desk.

“What progress have we made toward finding the vigilante?” Vincent asked.

“We were just discussing that,” Father replied. He nodded toward Winslow and asked, “Will you fill him in, please?”

“As discussed, we’ve stationed people in the subway stations and the empty spaces between them,” Winslow began. “You already know Pascal put the message out for the pipes to be emergency use only until this situation is resolved. Also, before I sent our people out, I checked the newspapers, verifying the locations of the attacks, then stationed them around those lines. No sense spreading ourselves thin. I was surprised to find that it’s a relatively small section of track.”

“Perhaps he is using a central access point into the subways,” Father remarked, “and the stretch of track surrounds that.”

“That’s probably how he has managed to remain unseen so far,” Vincent postulated. “And the children?”

“Rebecca and I spoke with them last night before bed, when they were all gathered together,” said Pascal. “We told them to hide if they see anything while running errands. Then to pipe a message when he’s gone.”

“Have we decided who to tell if we do learn who he is or where to find him?” posed Winslow.

“In that event, I’ll tell Catherine what his movements are,” Vincent answered. “Hopefully, it will help in her search for him.” He saw Father purse his lips and glance toward him at his remark.

“Very well,” Father said. “Is there anything else?”

“I don’t have anything,” Winslow stated.

“Me neither,” concurred Pascal. “If we’re done here, I’m going to head back to the pipe chamber. I want to be there in case any news comes through.”

“All right.” Father nodded his acquiescence. “Please inform me as soon as we learn something.”

Winslow and Pascal chorused their agreement and went to their separate duties.

When they were alone, Father turned to Vincent, querying, “Does Catherine… still suspect…” He did not need to finish the question.

“No.” Vincent stood tall, giving a slight smile. “She’s found an explanation that more completely fits the evidence.”

Father smiled at Vincent, saying, “Of course she did. Good. May I ask how you’re certain that Catherine’s doubts have been erased?”

“Yes. I know she dreamed last night, though I don’t know what about, and when she awoke, there was no fear of me left in her. She has a new… determination. I believe she’s found a probable suspect.”

Father smiled at the news, affirming, “That’s good. I’m sure it was only a matter of time.”

* * *

Prompted by her dream, Catherine went to talk with Jace before work, hoping to find something that would indicate if he could be involved and how. A taxi dropped her at the main entrance of the Protectors’ headquarters, where a Protector sat talking with another man on the steps. Catherine paused to read the flyer on the door, a statement of the Protectors’ mission, then went inside.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” asked a friendly young man, not much bigger than Catherine, dressed in a karate gi with a green belt.

Catherine noted his slim physique, unruly red hair, and pimples interspersed with freckles on his face, then guessed he was either still in or not long out of high school.

“Thank you.” Catherine gazed around, observing the rest of the people in the room. “I’m looking for Jace. Is he here?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The young man pointed toward the door that led to the stairs. “I believe he’s in his office. Would you like me to show you the way?”

“No, thank you.” Catherine gave him a friendly smile. “I know where it is.” She went to the door on the stage, climbed the stairs to Jace’s office, and knocked. When she heard an invitation to come in, she entered.

Jace sat behind his desk, focused on paperwork. He looked up when the door opened, then stood, surprised to see Catherine. He gave her a pleased smile.

“Well.” He rounded the desk, standing before her, hands clasped behind his back. “I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon. You come to sign up?”

She laughed lightly, replying with a smile, “I’d look really silly in one of those white hats.”

He chuckled, contesting, “I disagree. Besides, the guys in the white hats always win.”

“Do they?” Her smile faded just a bit; her tone fell between curious and dubious.

“Well,” he pulled a chair around for her to sit in, “at least in fairy tales.”

She settled into the offered chair.

“You know,” he leaned on the back of her chair, looking at her over her shoulder, “the city has its own myths. We’re all so rational, so… sophisticated and cynical, but we still need our gods and demons. Our… heroes and villains.”

He walked to his desk, perching on the front edge, facing her. “I… knew a man used to work the IRT. He swore he saw a monster down there once… when he was troubleshooting some track. You hear the street people talk about it, too. Some… terrible, fierce creature who haunts the dark places. Some… thing with the face of a demon… and the soul of an angel.”

“You can’t possibly believe that… can you?” She laughed dismissively. And thought about Vincent.

“They believe it,” he declared adamantly. “Don’t you see? Because they need to believe.” He huffed as if the idea was obvious. “Inside, we’re… all children, scared of the dark, wishing there really was a Batman.”

“But Batman was never half as formidable as you. Was he?”

“I can take care of myself. But I tell you, all the fighting techniques in the world… don’t equal what I learned from Isaac Stubbs in one afternoon. You remember his first rule?”

“On the street, there are no rules,” she recited.

“That’s the problem with doing things your way. You believe in rules. The predators don’t.”

“So, we throw away the rules?” She did not hide the seriousness of her question from her tone. “Then what’s the difference? The color of our hats.”

“I don’t have to tell you the difference.” Irritation laced his comment. “You know it already or you wouldn’t be here.”

Her mild smile did not quite reach concurrence. She rose, turning her eyes to the wall arrayed with armaments.

“Isaac tells me you were a star pupil,” he complimented her, momentarily pulling her gaze away from his weapons.

“Isaac exaggerates,” she returned with a humble smile.  Her gaze drifted between him and the displayed arms as she walked along the wall. “I still have a lot to learn. These weapons, for instance. Can you really use all of them?”

“Some.” When she reached for a katana, he quickly added, “I wouldn’t touch that sword.” When she stopped, looking at him, he added, “The samurai kept their blades razor-sharp.”

She eyed the sword, then looked at him and affected curiosity, asking, “Does that make you a samurai, Jace?”

He gave a noncommittal smile.

She glanced down a moment, then gazed at the wall and sighed. Walking back down the display, she stopped beside a collection of metal stars, each with four to eight points. She touched the wall next to the stars.

“And what are these?”

“Those are throwing stars.” When she looked at him, he added, “I can see you don’t make it to many ninja movies.”

Catherine observed all the weapons, walking to the other end of the wall again, stopping beside the pair of ninja claws she remembered seeing. The two braces had four claws each, long and sharp, with black straps attached for the wearer to tie them onto their hands. She examined them for a long moment, then looked at Jace, noting his barely concealed look of concern.

Turning away from the wall, she walked back toward the door, saying, “Well, I really should be going. Thank you for sharing your insights with me. I appreciate your time.”

“You’re welcome to stop in anytime.” He followed her to the door, holding it open for her, and walked her down the stairs.

“You have a nice facility here,” she commented as they walked. “Was it a lot of work getting it set up? Or was the building ready for use?”

“It needed quite a bit of work,” he informed her. “We did a lot of renovating. But it was worth it.”

“I can see that. You’ve certainly made sure all the needs of your clients are met. And you’ve created an open and welcoming atmosphere for anyone and everyone.” She stopped by the front door, turning to Jace. “It’s something to be proud of, helping so many people learn to protect themselves.” She smiled and reached for the door.

Jace grabbed the handle first, opening the door for her, then followed her out and down the steps to the sidewalk where he shook her hand with a smile. He kept his gaze on her as she walked away.

Catherine never saw the Protector leave the building behind her and approach Jace, whose eyes stayed on Catherine. The man looked at Catherine, then at Jace, who nodded to him. Then the man followed Catherine. As Jace watched the Protector follow Catherine, his smile faded into a worried frown.

* * *

As Vincent performed his duties that day, he pondered what Catherine had told him about the vigilante’s method of killing. The shock of the revelation had worn off, and her doubt began to make more sense. The papers had never revealed how the victims were killed. He had assumed some form of knife was used, which led to his confusion and hurt over Catherine’s doubt.

But if they were clawed to death… he thought frequently throughout the day …no wonder she feared. He resolved to go to her as soon as he could and finally clear the air. If the longing he felt in her to see him said anything, there remained hope to redeem their relationship from this misunderstanding.

* * *

On reaching work, Catherine deposited her things at her desk and got coffee from the breakroom. As she headed back to her desk, Joe passed her, his focus on a file he held.

Joe caught Catherine’s gaze, saying, “Walk with me.” When she fell in step, he asked, “So, what have you found out so far?”

“There’s a lot of people out there teaching self-defense, some good, some not so good, but the one who strikes me as the most likely to turn vigilante is Jason Walker.”

Joe gave her a sideways glance and half a grin as he replied, “The guy in the news all the time? Isn’t that a bit obvious?”

“Only at first glance. But I’ve been doing some digging…”

“It’s not him.”

“Just hear me out for a second, Joe.”

“Let me save you some time.”

“I really believe I’m onto something here.”

“Radcliffe,” Joe cut in again, smiling fully at her tenacity.

“I’m telling you, Joe, we should move on Jason Walker.”

“This is the same Jason Walker who heads the Protectors, right?” He clarified as he gave her his full attention. “Heavily into karate, aikido, ju-jitsu, ninjutsu. He’s been sued maybe a half-a-dozen times by perps he’s brought in on citizen’s arrests. Collects secret ninja death toys. Pops up on TV and says how the subway slasher is a hero and not a nutcase, and isn’t it too bad we don’t have a dozen guys just like him.”

When they stopped near his office, he gave her a perceptive smirk as he asked, “We talking about the same Jason Walker here?”

“I have a sinking feeling you’re ahead of me?”

His smile became amused when he said, “Don’t be fooled by the gravy stains on their ties, Radcliffe. Cops aren’t as dumb as they look.”

“Well, he has the right skills, the right attitude…” Catherine defended her position.

“Yeah, well, there’s only one problem with that,” Joe countered. He walked around her to his office door, then turned back to her. “He’s also got an alibi.”

“Well, then someone’s covering for him.”

“Who, the cops? Jason Walker has been under twenty-four-hour police surveillance since this investigation began.” He took the last steps to his office and opened the door.

“I’m not wrong about this, Joe,” she insisted.

He turned and waved at her with the file he held, then closed his office door.

Catherine returned to her desk feeling frustrated. She worked for the rest of the day on the Subway Slasher case, finishing with the files Joe asked her to review, and wondering how to determine, one way or the other, Jason Walker’s involvement.

She arrived home late, ate the takeout dinner she had picked up on the way, then changed clothes and took her pipe to the basement. She stood beside the pipes for several minutes. She even raised her pipe a few times, ready to send a message, but could not bring herself to call Vincent. She wanted to see him, to tell him her suspicions, to apologize for her doubt. Yet, as she remembered the closed-off sadness in his eyes the last time she saw him, the finality in his voice when he bid her good night, she feared he did not want to see her anymore. In the end, she decided not to bother him. She raised her empty hand and held the silent pipes for a moment, then returned to her apartment.

* * *

Vincent stood storing leftovers, helping William, Sarah, and a few of the older children in cleaning up the kitchen and dining chamber after dinner, when he felt a strange combination of emotions flow through Catherine – longing, regret, despondency, apprehension. It took a moment to sift through the mix before he realized what it meant. She wanted to see him but was afraid he did not want to see her.

I need to fix this, he thought. I’ll go see her, once the evening chores are done. He realized a moment later that she was in the tunnels, then sensed her leave, returning to her apartment above, and wished he could go to her then. Yet he knew she would understand him completing his duties and remained confident that if he made the gesture to go see her, she would not turn him away. It would not take too long to finish his tasks.

Soon, he soothed his agitated inner self, impatient to go to her. I’ll see her soon.