CHAPTER 1

It was 10:53 P.M. on Friday ofAchilles 14, 1973 ARC, and LeighPalkenberg was sitting at his ship lookout station on the RepublicAvenue Bridge watching for ships. The Republic Avenue Bridge wasa double-leaf bascule bridge, basically a very large gray drawbridgemade of steel that spanned the Cathedral Creek. Leigh's main jobas assistant bridge operator was to watch for approaching tug boats,yachts or whatever that passed the bridge, while they went throughthe Cathedral Creek on their way to the Flemish Mills and BedrockCreeks. Most of these boats were vessels that had unloaded cargo fromlarge oceangoing ships, which had come up the Omni River from theHercules Ocean. Occasionally, there were ships carrying cargo of thelocal variety or just pleasure boaters who had happened to stumbleupon the Cathedral Creek. Of course Leigh knew if they had any ideahow polluted the Cathedral Creek really was, they would avoid suchexcursions on the creek. Leigh had been working this job for the lastfour years and he enjoyed the solitude. Occasionally he had to manthe controls for the bridge to open, but usually a full-fledged bridgeoperator did that, but budget cuts in recent years forced Leigh todiversify his training as assistant bridge operator. Currently he wasusing his binoculars to gaze out in the distance. About a mile away wasthe larger Warsaw Bridge, which was so high above the ground, evenbattleships could pass underneath. But where Leigh was stationed, itwas a part of the Cathedral Creek that was somewhat more narrow andnot used by such large vessels.

Leigh then heard the blow of a car horn down below his station,and he thought to himself: "Old Nathaniel."

Leigh left his post at the high point of the Duchess Tower on theRepublic Avenue Bridge. He then went down some green metal stairsuntil he was at street level and he opened a metal door. Outside was aforty year old black car with an old man standing outside of it with awooden cane. It was his old friend Nathaniel Krapfen who used to goto the church Leigh was baptized in. Of course, that was back whenLeigh went to church. Leigh stopped going when he was seventeen, butNathaniel just couldn't break customs of trying to meet up with fellowcongregants, even inactive ones like Leigh. Nathaniel had known aboutLeigh working at the Republic Avenue Bridge for quite sometime, andtended to visit him on Friday nights.

Leigh stepped out and smiled. "Hey Nathaniel, what's up in oldPeakwood?"

Nathaniel grumbled. "Just counting my communal security checksand making sure those pesky kids don't bother my lawn."

"How's Father Quant?" Leigh inquired.

Nathaniel shook his head. "Don't even get me started about him.He's an asshole."

Leigh smirked. "A believer like you, one who follows the 'good book,'I figured you be as loyal as the next man to the clergy of the church."

"Our Lord knows the difference between true clergymen and falseones, and Father Quant is one of the false ones," Nathaniel pointed out."I'm still kind of sad you don't go to church anymore."

"I respect our God with all my heart. It's just that I don't respectthe priests, ministers and so forth. Human beings tend to use religionfor their own advantages. That's why when I talk to God, I do so inprivate, not through any churches or priests," Leigh proclaimed.

Nathaniel nodded. "I understand. I'll pray for you anyway, andmay the Holy Essence be with you."

"And also with you Nathaniel, and may the Lord Jehovah bless usall," Leigh declared, with a sincere voice.

Nathaniel got in his car and drove off towards the Borough ofStreambank. He had other business to attend to that night. Leigh thenwent back into the Duchess Tower of the Republic Avenue Bridge andclosed the door. He then locked it securely and then walked back upthe green metal stairs and went to his post. He looked out again andsaw no creek traffic; so he decided to take out his spiral notebook andwrite in it. Leigh was a part-time writer and hoped one day to get hiswork published. He was only twenty-three years old so he hoped hiswork would be published in his lifetime. He checked his watch againand it showed it was 11:12 P.M. Time seemed to go slowly on theRepublic Avenue Bridge. The phone then rang and Leigh recognized itas the outside line.

Leigh stood up and went over to the phone. He picked up thephone, and said: "Republic Avenue Bridge, Duchess Tower, how can Ihelp you?"

"Who is this?" a voice shot back.

Leigh spoke boldly. "This is Leigh Palkenberg, who are you?"

"Never mind that, I want to talk to Ezekiel," the voice replied withvenom.

Leigh breathed in deeply. "Ezekiel got laid off, five months ago."

"Bullshit," the voice responded.

"I don't know what to tell you. The city couldn't afford that manypeople, and full-fledged bridge operators have high wages because ofunion rules," Leigh pointed out.

"Are you a union man?" the voice inquired.

"Local 43, got any other questions, or do you still wish to remainanonymous?" Leigh asked, with a forceful voice.

"No anonymity, I am Oriel Depas, Chief Delegate for Local 27. Irepresent the guys on the Flemish Mills bridges. I wanted to talk to Ezekielbecause I had a favor to ask. Do you know where he's at?" Oriel queried.

Leigh cleared his throat. "No, I don't."

"Let me know if you do," Oriel replied, and then hanged up.

Leigh hanged up the phone and muttered. "Fucking jerk."

He went back to his post and gazed at the Cathedral Creek withhis binoculars. He then went back to his creative writing. About twohours later, Leigh was preparing some coffee when he noticed lights onthe creek. His two-way radio blurted out a message. "Republic AvenueBridge, respond."

Leigh manipulated the radio dials for better reception, and hethen pressed the transmit button, and spoke: "This is Republic AvenueBridge, Duchess Tower, over."

The voice on the other end spoke with authority. "Roger DuchessTower, this is PPD Boat 57. We're conducting an investigation in thisarea. Have you noticed anything odd tonight?"

"Negative, it's been quiet all night," Leigh replied.

"Very well, let us know if you see anything," the voice said, andthen there was static.

"Roger, over and out," Leigh replied.

The Polyxenburgh Police Department boat went under the bridgewith little trouble, because it was such a small vessel. Leigh then turnedon his shortwave radio and tried to get different stations. If he waslucky, he might even get radio signals from Europe this time of night.Though he knew most radio stations in Europe were off at this hour, hehoped to get their morning news from there. He played with the radiodial but received nothing. He then went back to his creative writing.Hours passed and light started to shine in; and it was 5:45 A.M. andLeigh yawned. He was tired from a boring night's work. He then heardthe door open downstairs, and heavy feet climb the metal staircase.Leigh turned around and saw his coworker Joseph Holz.

Leigh smirked. "A little late for you. Usually you're here 5:30 A.M.the latest."

Joe shook his head. "There was a problem on Kaiserland Avenue,some sort of police action. My guess is a murder or something. TheMunicipal Avenue Bridge was closed and even Republic Avenue on theStreambank side. I had to go over one of those Flemish Mills Creekbridges in Mulberryflint, just to get into Duchess today."

"Shit, I was wondering why traffic was so light," Leigh remarked.

"You don't know the half of it," Joe declared.

Leigh continued writing in his spiral notebook, and Joe pouredhimself some coffee. Joseph took out binoculars and gazed at the creek.He noticed a few police boats on the creek, and commented: "Whateverthe cops are into, they're certainly maintaining a presence. They are notmessing around."

Leigh nodded.

Joseph then spoke thoughtfully. "Listen, why don't you get going.I got an inspector coming by soon, and I don't think you want to bearound when he arrives."

Leigh stopped writing, and inquired: "On a Saturday morning?"

"It's a surprise inspection. My contact in Local 43 warned me aboutit," Joseph responded.

Leigh had a thoughtful expression on his face. "Okay, sure. You'llcover the ten minutes I'm leaving early?"

"No problem," Joseph replied.

Leigh packed up his things including his spiral notebook andshortwave radio. He then turned to Joseph, and asked: "Hey Joe, youever hear of a guy by the name of Oriel Depas."

"Of course, I have. You should know him too. He's a big shot inthe union," Joseph remarked. "He owns a restaurant in Mapledale, abutcher shop somewhere in Timberbank, and a...."

"Wait a minute," Leigh interrupted. "This guy owns a restauranthere in the Borough of Duchess, in essence the South Side of the city,and a butcher shop somewhere in Timberbank, the North Side of thecity?"

"Yeah, Oriel Depas has hands in pies all over the city. I think hehas a house in Mapledale, but also another house or mansion in theGrafburg section of Timberbank," Joseph explained.

Leigh exhaled some air. "Shit."

"That's about the size of it," Joseph quipped, and his face changedslightly. "Why are you so curious about him?"

Leigh shrugged. "Somebody claiming to be him called during thenight, he was asking for Ezekiel."

"Our good old pissed-off at the world Ezekiel," Joseph remarked.

"One and the same," Leigh declared.

Joseph shrugged. "I have no clue what Depas wants with him. AllI know is last I heard Ezekiel was working construction in Minuit.Always jobs out there, but a little bit of a commute by light rail Isuppose."

"This Depas guy sounds like a fucking jerk," Leigh commented.

"That fucking jerk is a big shot. Politicians, clergymen, communityboard members, you better watch out for that guy. He has connections.I heard he got his daughter into the Collegium of Pontifex, aprestigious university downtown, as you most likely well know.Scientists, politicians, archdeacons, even imperators are among thealumni of that school," Joseph stated.

Leigh smirked. "Just my luck to talk to him last night on the phone.Well, I better get out of here. Good luck with the inspection."

"See ya," Joseph replied, and relaxed in a comfortable chair.

Leigh left the post and went down the metal green stairway. Hearrived at the door and opened it. Outside was a familiar face, that ofVince Deinhof. Vince was an old friend of Leigh's, and they went toPeakwood High School together. Vince was known to be rough aroundthe edges, even had a few run-ins with the law, but nothing serious. Hewas 100% German-Vespasian unlike Leigh Palkenberg, who was half-Germanand half-Dutch. Leigh closed the door behind himself andlocked it, and then turned to Vince.

"Why the fuck are you up so bright and early?" Leigh asked, with atired expression.

"I slept at this hot girl's house last night. I got up early, so figured Icheck on my old buddy Leigh," Vince said, with an enthusiastic voice.

"A hot girl?" Leigh remarked. "How hot?"

"Hotter than Rebecca Steinmetz," Vince proclaimed. "She's a redhot redhead, but she seems not to want to put out easily."

Leigh smiled. "The hot ones never do. Did she give you her numberat least?"

Vince grinned. "Yeah she did. Though I have to admit I'm not theonly guy who has it. Her name's Deirdre Svenningsen."

Leigh's ears perked up. "The last name sounds familiar."

Vince spoke with a frank voice. "It should. Her sister is PersisSvenningsen."

Leigh's mind clicked. "Oh shit, Persis Svenningsen is like thehighest paid escort in the city, not to mention a good singer. I think sheowns a nightclub in Bede Bluff, all the way up in Palatine."

"You betcha," Vince replied. "Deirdre is her younger sister."

"Are they Swedish or something, a name like Svenningsen and all?"Leigh inquired.

Vince shook his hands in the air. "Nah, that's a Danish name, andanyway they're half Danish and half Scottish, a good mix becausethey're both knockouts."

"Well, I certainly can say Persis is. So how did you meet Deirdre?"Leigh queried.

Vince cleared his throat. "I just met her last night after work whenI went to the movies. We went to a bar afterwards and she invited meover. Unfortunately, no fun, but she did let me feel her legs a little bit."

"There's that at least," Leigh commented.

"Yeah, I know. Far cry from the main attraction. She's the bestpiece of ass this side of the Ogden River though," Vince declared.

Leigh nodded. "Well good luck. I just hope for your sake you nailthis girl before you hit thirty."

"Don't worry, I will. All I need to do is let loose the classic Deinhofcharm, and she'll fold like a deck of cards," Vince replied, with anoptimistic voice.

"If anyone can do it Vince, you can," Leigh quipped.

Vince nodded. "Hey, you want to grab some pancakes in Elmpine?"

"Elmpine, why not good old Henryburg in Streambank?" Leighasked.

"Ah, we can't," Vince stated and then gestured with his headtowards the west, and Leigh noticed a police checkpoint blocking theStreambank side of the bridge.

Leigh nodded awkwardly. "The police action, I heard. Do you knowwhat it's about?"

Vince spoke boldly. "Yeah, I fucking do. The news is spreadinglike wild fire. Old Nathaniel got murdered in Mulberryflint near theHenryburg border last night, maybe no more than a half mile fromhere."

"Shit, I saw Nathaniel last night. He dropped by for one of hisbridge visits. I must have been one of the last people to see him alive,"Leigh remarked.

Vince shrugged. "I guess. Probably some people saw him inStreambank too, and then of course whoever killed him. Poor fuckingguy. He was a loud mouth, but he was a devote believer and churchgoer,I'll give him that."

"Yeah, he was the religious type. He prayed to the Triune God,at least three times a day. Never forgot his religious duties," Leighcommented.

There was a brief moment of silence as they contemplatedNathaniel's death.

Leigh then spoke softly in a prayerful tone. "Jehovah, savior ofmankind, please guide Nathaniel on his journey to the afterlife. Maythe Holy Essence have mercy on him when he is weighed on the scalesof righteousness, so that he may be judged worthy for eternal life.We ask this in the name of the Triune God, and of all the angels andsaints."

Vince nodded but remained quiet. They then returned to a morenormal state.

Leigh spoke softly. "I just felt I should do that."

"I get it Leigh. I might be a dick at times, but we're just mortals. Inthe end we have to talk to the Divine Ones, no matter what their namesmay be, and ask for help, because otherwise we're nothing more thanspecks of air and dust. Whoever the Divine Ones are, we have to hopethey can help us after death," Vince said, and continued to speak. "Butof course I believe the Divine Ones want us to live our lives fully, toenjoy it all and to follow our wills and our pleasures, so that we mayhave wisdom, money, property and pussy."

"Poetic," Leigh quipped.

"Yeah," Vince replied. "The working man's guide to the afterlife orsomething like that."

"Well, do they have any idea who did it?" Leigh inquired.

Vince cleared his throat. "Nah, nobody knows who did it. Somepeople think it's the Bavarian Mob, but others think maybe theRussians had something to do with it," Vince remarked.

Leigh rolled his eyes. "What would the Bavarian Mob or theRussians want from Nathaniel?"

Vince sighed. "All right, well that's what the cops are saying. If youwant to hear my opinion, I think it was those fucking Arian-Cathars.They're always roaming around the streets in the shadows. Alwaysmumbling about that they believe Jehovah is not God, that he was justa man and the material world is evil. I mean what a bunch of psychos."

"I don't know," Leigh replied. "You might have a point. But thisis stuff I don't want to think about. The Arian-Cathars are an ancientvariation of Christianity. In our church's case, the Triune CatholicChurch, we're a unique variation of Christianity. We worship JesusChrist, we just call him Jehovah, and we believe in the Trinity, or aswe say the Triune God. But we also do things most other Christiangroups do not adhere to or believe, except maybe the Triune OrthodoxChurch. Our members perform ceremonial magic, follow the teachingsof Qabalah, as well as various esoteric ideas and are slightly influencedby Hermetic philosophy. To put it simply, we're a mutated version ofChristianity. Though familiar to us; to others it might seem out there,especially to groups like the Arian-Cathars or the Nestorians, or anyother Christian group you can think of. Who's a psycho and who isn't,it's all subjective, Vince."