Zeal

by Maxx Koerner

The cold Saturday morning seemed only to fit the mood at the Kensington circle. At 7:45 am people usually began to arrive to open their store; it would be a normal day, but everyone stood transfixed at the center of the circle, faces full of a mixture of fear and awe. J. Murdock stood in the center of the circle in front of two long beams, one vertical coming from the ground, the other was horizontal connected to the other. The cross was completely unremarkable. Other then that there was a man crucified on it.

The man’s head slumped forward lazily as if he was leaning down, breathing deeply. His body hung foreword as gravity wanted to push him down, but the two nails in the man’s palms kept him in that position. His legs were kept in place by a single long nail going through both of his heels. The man’s entire body was naked save for a single loincloth around his lower body. But the thing that drew Murdock’s eye was three letters carved into the man’s chest.

I.G.N.

“You think it’s the same guy?” Murdock’s assistant, Arthur McConnel, inquired.

Murdock took a long breath from his cigarette, not taking his eyes from the body. “I.G.N.? Definitely,” he said his voice scratchy from years of chain smoking.

McConnel looked again at the corpse, Murdock knew he was looking for something that he might have missed earlier, all in vain, apparently. Giving up, McConnel walked away to talk to some of the locals and see if anyone knew the man. The police Lieutenant, Henry Price, walked up beside Murdock, looking at the man.

“Think he died of blood loss?” the Lieutenant asked.

“One symptom, most likely. People who were crucified back in Roman times more often died of suffocation, rather than blood loss,” Murdock replied, stamping out his cigarette. “Chances are this poor asshole was drugged, mutilated, nailed on and put up here.”

“None of the locals seem to know him,” McConnel said walking back over to them. “Another random victim, apparently.”

“Apparently,” Murdock sighed, walking away.

The Lieutenant looked at Murdock, clearly confused. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Murdock motioned to the pub in front of him. “Pub,” he answered. “I need a drink.”

* * *

“Go over the victims again,” Murdock told McConnel, sitting down at a table with two pitchers of water and soda; the bartender wouldn’t sell them alcohol because it was too early.

McConnel sat down across from Murdock, brow furrowed in concentration trying to remember. “The first victim we found,” he began. “Was found surrounded by stones, clearly bludgeoned to death, I.G.N. on the chest of course.

“The second victim was found in front of a church, sitting cross legged, his severed head in his lap in a shawl. I.G.N. on the head this time. There’s almost no connection.”

“You haven’t read the Bible, have you?” Murdock said pouring some soda.

“No, why?”

“Because there is a connection between how the victims were killed. The first, the woman who was bludgeoned to death, relates back to when Jesus saved a woman from being stoned to death for adultery.

“The next, the beheading with his head in a shawl, goes back to the man who preceded Jesus, John the Baptist. He was beheaded, the shawl is more to symbolize a sacred shawl that is said to hold a faded picture of John’s head.

“The most recent victim,” Murdock continued motioning outside. “Is the most famous death in the bible, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.”

“So you’re saying that all of these deaths come from the bible?” inquired the Lieutenant, sitting down next to McConnel.

“Of course,” answered Murdock drinking some water. “Course, that only narrows it down to a few thousand people who’ve read the bible in a place where there’s tens of thousands.”

“Well, as I was about to tell you before you walked off,” said the Lieutenant, pouring himself some water. “The previous two victims were actually Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

“How’d you know?” asked McConnel.

“I’m one,” answered the Lieutenant, a little matter of factly. “So from time to time a get a news letter from the church, inside them, at times, is a list of local members. After we identified who the first two victims were, I was looking through the news letter and one of there names caught my eye. Looking through the news letter I found both of their names. It couldn’t have been coincidence.”

“It isn’t,” Murdock replied bluntly. “If everything points to it not be coincidence, it isn’t.”

McConnel looked at Murdock. “I’ve talked to a local Chaplain, he said that there are a few hundred Witnesses in the Bay Area, about twenty to thirty in the east bay,” he said.

“Get to work on that then,” Murdock decided, getting up. “I’ll go to a few local churches and see anyone there might have met these people.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” staring uneasily at McConnel.

“Worth a shot,” Murdock replied, lighting another cigarette. “Just because they’re witnesses doesn’t mean they won’t go to other churches to hear the word of god, or maybe they’ll go to spend time with friends. Still worth a shot.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go alone,” informed the Lieutenant, tentatively.

“Why not?” asked Murdock.

“Because of this,” replied the Lieutenant, pulling out a newspaper article and giving it to Murdock. The headline of the article read, Former FBI agent Jim Murdock put in charge of catching the I.G.N. killer.

“It was leaked that a former top FBI agent was put in charge of this case,” continued the Lieutenant. “Let’s face it, every since you moved here from New York to work for us, you’ve been pretty well known, and I.G.N. has been front page for a long while now. It was only a matter of time now.”

Murdock looked at the article for a moment. “Any idea who leaked it?” he asked.

“None,” answered the Lieutenant. “Whoever did it, though, doesn’t matter, you should be alone. You and McConnel should travel together, just to be safe.”

“Alright then,” Murdock shrugged. “McConnel, let’s go.”

McConnel got up and pulled out his wallet. “Let me just go pay for this,” he sighed walking over to the counter.

Murdock and the Lieutenant walked over to the door and watched the police investigate the crime scene. The cross still stood erect, but the body had been taken down.

“By the way,” said the Lieutenant to Murdock. “What do you think I.G.N. means?”

Murdock only breathed in from his cigarette, not taking his eyes away from the cross.

“In God’s Name.”

* * *

It had been a long day. Murdock and McConnel had visited several churches, met with their ministers and attendants to see if any of them had seen or known any of their victims. All for naught, no one knew or had ever seen any of the victims before, though Murdock didn’t expect them to. It was later in the day, about 8 pm when McConnel told Murdock that the Lieutenant wanted to meet them back at Kensington Circle. When they returned, the circle seemed dead. Since the street had been closed off by the police, there were no cars, no pedestrians, no businesses open. It looked like it had been abandoned.

“Where’s the Lieutenant?” Murdock asked, looking around.

“I don’t know,” replied McConnel. “Maybe he’s late.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, my cell phone is out of battery, but there’s a payphone by the bus stop,” McConnel motioned to the bus stop behind them. “I’ll go use that to call him.”

Murdock rounding on him, “No, I don’t think you will.”

“What? Why not?”

“Bear with me for a moment,” Murdock replied blowing smoke in McConnel’s face. “Don’t you think it’s a little odd that you would get a call from the Lieutenant from out of the blue telling us to meet him back at the crime scene in the middle of the night?”

“Well, it was odd,” answered McConnel, defensively.

“Or,” continued Murdock. “That you could talk to those preachers as if you had known them for years, even though we were investigating a crime?”

“What does that have to…”

“Or the fact that you have a cross on your wallet that says ‘Jesus Saves’?” Murdock shouted at him.

“I don’t…” McConnel stammered, pulling out his wallet and seeing “Jesus Saves” on it. “This isn’t my wallet!”

“Then why do you have it?”

“Murdock, you’ve known me for years!” Shouted McConnel. “Why would I murder someone? Hell, I’m a Pacifist! There’s no reason, none!”

Murdock looked McConnel dead in the eyes. He could see desperation, fear, but more importantly, the truth.

“Alright then,” he said stepping back. “You’re telling the truth.”

McConnel let out a sigh of relief. Murdock Drew his Magnum and fired. The shot whizzed past McConnel and there was a shot of pain.

“He, on the other hand,” said Murdock, walking past a stunned McConnel. “Wasn’t.”

McConnel turned around to find a man lying on the ground, holding a bloody knee and a silenced pistol on the ground which Murdock was picking up. The man was wearing a mask, but McConnel could tell he was in pain.

“The thing about a Magnum, is that when you shoot someone, especially if there’s a bone in the way,” Murdock began, talking to the man. “That bone is generally destroyed.”

“Who is he?” McConnel asked, still slightly dazed.

“First impression would say he’s I.G.N.” said Murdock lighting another Cigarette. Murdock looked at the man. “How are you Lieutenant?”

“Fuck you Murdock,” the man said through gritted teeth.

“Lieutenant Price?” McConnel said in astonishment.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Price sneered. “Bet’cha never guessed?”

“It did take me time to figure out,” said Murdock. “But you’re little phone call to McConnel proved it. Also, Arthur, I’m sorry, I needed to distract him, and there was little time.”

“It’s alright,” McConnel said shakily. “But how did you know it was him?”

“My first sign,” Murdock began. “Was I.G.N., you used a scalpel for that, the handwriting was very similar. But not the basis for an accusation.

“The next came today, with a flaw in your information. Witnesses do get newsletters, yes, but they, under no circumstances, have the names of every Witness in your area in them. I did do some research into different Christian sects in college, I know how the Witnesses work they don’t do that.

“You are also the only one with the media resource to leak that story about me being put in charge of this case, assigning McConnel to accompany me so you could take us both out.

“Finally, when you called earlier, you called McConnel. If you needed to talk to me, why did you not just call me? You called the unsure of us, the one more likely to trust you. Am I missing anything?”

Price laughed. “No, you got it all.”

“But-but,” McConnel stammered. “What was the motive?”

“That’s an excellent question, Price,” Murdock nodded. “Why did you do this? Why Witnesses like yourself.”

“Because they’re not doing it right,” Price laughed.

“Pardon?” Murdock questioned.

“They’re not spreading the word right,” laughed Price. “Not getting people to the right faith, not saving them. And what has their half assed efforts gotten? Bunch of damned pagans running around fucking like there’s no tomorrow.”

“You’re sick,” declared Murdock.

“But, why I.G.N.?” McConnel still stared at Price in disbelief. “Why ‘In God’s Name’?”

“I think I can answer that,” Murdock interjected before Price. “In Hell’s seventh circle, violence, there are three rings: violence to one’s self, violence to one’s neighbor, and violence to God. To put it bluntly, murder is one of the deadly sins that will condemn you to an eternity of damnation.

“Price’s murders,” Murdock continued, motioning to Price. “Is more irony than anything. That these murders, one of the deadly sins, were done by and for God.”

Price was clapping now. “Murdock, you never cease to impress me,” he laughed. “But I’m sad to say, you have nothing to persecute me with.”

“He’s right,” said McConnel. “We don’t have anything.”

“But you did murder them, yes?” pressed Murdock.

“Yeah, I did,” admitted price. “So what?”

Murdock reached into his coat and pulled out, much to Price’s horror, a recorder. “Because I feel that these are useful to carry around,” Murdock answered, pressing stop. “I just have one question left, Price.”

Price just stared at him in amazement.

“I.G.N.?” Murdock said. “Naming yourself after a gaming website, are you that unoriginal?”