The Sum of Zero: Part Ten

by Dex

Will Piper looked at the house for a long moment before nodding to the jumpsuited man beside him. The NYPD SWAT team crashed through the front door of the house with a thunderous sound, and raced inside one after another. The shouts of 'Clear!' echoed over and over as they zig-zagged back and forth from room to room. Piper was right behind them, gun out even though he knew it wasn't necessary. Caulder's call had him moving in immediately but he was still unsure about the house. Piper knew that he'd need the clues that John swore were in the house as an excuse to move this squad along to St. Patrick's Cathedral. He went up the stairs on the heels of another SWAT member, and hit the landing just as the muted curses and retching reached him.

The gruesomeness of the room almost overpowered Piper, despite his foreknowledge of what he was going to find. One of the SWAT team members clawed at his mask, failing to yank it clear before he vomited messily down his front. More than a few of the tough, veteran force were milk pale against their uniforms.

"Motherfucker." The squad leader said next to Piper, who ignored him. He was editing out the horror, breaking the scene down into objective information, just like he and every other good detective had been trained to do. His eyes immediately caught the symbolism that Emma had described, and he made a show of turning slowly to follow it with a pencil before he spoke.

"St.Pat's."

"What?"

"The cathedral. He's at the church."

"How can you know that?" The squad leader, a twenty year veteran scoffed.

"Follow the wall. Look, I'm the detective, right? He's at the church. Get your men back in that fucking van and get them over there. You still have your suspect profile. I'll go over now."

"Rush a church? Man, you're talking civilians in the field of fire."

"Call the HRT. Have them standby if we need them." Piper said, rushing down the stairs. He didn't bother to add that the Hostage response team would be useless anyway. One of their most important tactics involved preying on the sense of the guiltless innocent in the shooter. And Piper knew that with this killer, there was no innocence.

***

Scott yanked the door open and was moving even before the car stopped. John Caulder and Emma followed at his heels, bounding up the steps of the church. The doors of St. Patrick's were open, with a trickle of people moving in and out of them. John ducked past a man in a blue polo shirt who was snapping pictures of the facade and drew up short at the doors. Summers and Frost came up behind him. Scott had switched his glasses for the same brushed metal visor he had worn in the FoH building, and was already trying to figure out how to minimize crowd panic.

"Alright. If he's in there, he'll be either in the pews or off to one side. Unless he's ducked by the priests and is in the back rooms." Caulder said.

"No. He'll be in the open. Where he can see the alter." Emma said, and John nodded.

"That's your call. Suggestions?"

"We take the front, Emma goes in the side. If we can bracket him, she should be able to slow him down long enough for us to neutralize him." Cyclops said.

"Perhaps. Don't forget, Scott, his mind is different from a normal person's. I can't guarantee that I can even touch him, much less control him." Frost said, ignoring Caulder's sudden puzzled expression. "You'll have to be very fast."

"I can do fast." Scott affirmed, and turned back to the door.

"You better. I'll give you three minutes." Emma said quietly, and jogged around the side of the building. Caulder watched her go for a moment, and turned back to Scott.

"You're not FBI." He said simply.

"No."

"You lied to me. And to the department."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because this lunatic somehow has access to my family and my friends. I'm not about to let him work his way to them."

"And if he hadn't? Would you still be here?"

"Detective, is this the time?"

"No. But I want answers."

"You'll have them. I give you my word."

"Fine." John checked his pistol in the holster, shifting his jacket so it would be more accessible. "I trusted you."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But does it matter what I am?"

"Yes, and you know it."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Damn you."

"If you have to," Scott said, and checked his watch. "It's time."

"I'll follow you in."

"Fine." Scott turned back to the door, and walked in. St.Patrick's was not crowded at this time of night. Even this late, a trickle of tourists snapped photos of the elaborate mouldings and spectacular altar. He had the entire length of the nave in front of him, and at least fifty or more people milling around or seated in the pews. Carefully, Scott faded back from the hall, into the darker shadows at the sides of the church. Caulder did much the same, checking his weapon again. They broke apart, at separate ends of the church, scanning each head and face that they saw. Painstakingly, they crept down the aisles, trying desperately not to appear obvious in the thin crowds.

John saw him first, sitting off to the left, near the front of the altar. The mousy brown hair was nearly hidden behind the impressive halo of white curls of the older woman behind him, but there was no doubting his eyes. As Eckert's head swivelled slowly, taking in the church around him, Caulder caught a flash of those black, tortured eyes. They were holes in his face, like a monstrous skull in the lights. John was about to motion to Scott when Eckert's gaze snapped over to him, and his expression passed from satisfied to shocked to terrible in a matter of a second.

"Shit," Caulder said to himself, and went for his gun. Eckert virtually leapt from his seat at the pews, crashing out into the aisle. Cyclops caught the move, and was racing down to close the distance from his side. Eckert pulled the celphone from his pocket at the same time Caulder's gun came up, and both men froze in a suddenly motionless tableau. The Number's thumb twitched on the quick dial button, feeling an almost sexual ache to start the destruction. But no, his equation was still too early; unfinished. He would have to wait for twelve. Fortunately, neither the detective nor the mutant knew that.

"Police! You're under arrest, Eckert," Caulder yelled. Around him, there was a smattering of screams and alarmed shouts as the patrons of the church tried to filter out and away from the sudden scene. John watched Eckert's thumb on the phone, knowing that he couldn't shoot him before that button was pressed. The stand off continued.

"I will not be arrested, detective." The Number's voice was steady and calm, his dry clipped tones suitable for a meeting or a lunch date, as opposed to a face off between police and mutants. The Number took in the situation, and the feeling of power rose in him. "In fact, I think you will point your gun at the ground. Now, detective."

"Eckert--" Caulder growled warningly, but knew that he was right. Slowly, he began to lower the barrel, ready to snap it back up at any moment.

"Now, get that thing away from me." For the first time, a touch of emotion entered the Number's voice, and Cyclops edged back from him. Eckert took three steps across the aisle and turned, his back to the wall. He was walking sideways towards a small alcove, that lead up into the upper levels of the church. "If I hear you on the stairs, I will push the button." He said crisply, and turned, dashing up the steps. Caulder and Cyclops watched helplessly as he disappeared.

"Godammit!" Caulder cursed, moving to the doorway and looking up the darkened staircase.

"Emma, where are you," Cyclops hissed.

{{There's a problem, Scott. You and the detective can take the stairs. I'll block him and meet you up there.}} Her clear voice rang in his head.

"What? Where are- "

{{There's no time. It's less than five minutes to midnight. He'll press that button then, no matter what. Move.}}

"John. Up the stairs."

"What? No, he's got the- "

"It's covered. We'll get up there clean. Now go," Cyclops said, starting up. "You have to trust me on this."

"Fine," Caulder said, clearly unhappy with the situation. Together they raced up the narrow stone steps. The stairs followed the wall up past the levels of the nave, towards the great vaulted ceiling. Their feet made clicks on the stone that rang like cannon shots in their ears, but they refused to pause. The stairway gave way to a long shadowy vaulted chamber, extending all the way to the arch over the alter. John Caulder eased forward like a wraith, Cyclops behind him. He squeezed against the wall half behind a pillar. Cyclops faded back on the other side, his visor strip reflecting oddly in the light.

The Number stood half way down the chamber, his lean frame caught under a shaft of light, no doubt shining in the high lancet windows from one of the nearby buildings. His head was half cocked, as if he was listening for something, and his body was turned away from them, the celphone hidden by his form. Caulder raised his gun, waiting for a shot. The Number looked at his watch, and began to raise the phone. Caulder tensed, and he saw Scott do the same, knowing already that a shot from either of them would fail to stop the maniac before he could press that button. The Number raised the phone, and put his thumb on the button.

"Thomas Allen Eckert." A voice rang through the hall and in their heads at the same time. "Your mother would not approve."

Emma Frost stepped out of the shadows, like a pale ghost in the dim light. The Number rose up on his toes, his body twitching and a horrible light in his eyes. His face twisted, struggling against the telepathic wash that fell on him like a cresting wave. Emma could feel, for that brief instant, the steel trip of his mind change ever so slightly, and a small crack in the faceless wall opened. Mercilessly, she drove her mind into that crack, wedging her power down against his madness and seizing him for a brief second.

"Scott- " she said through clutched teeth. Cyclops didn't hesitate, seeing the Number jerk under Emma's temporary control. He touched the trigger on his visor, and a tight beam of ruby energy flashed out of the slit. It caught the Number on the wrist, snapping it like a twig and sending the celphone spinning away to the ground. The pain ripped through the Number, and refueled his personal equation. Emma felt his mind close back around her probe, forcing her out. She started to cry out, to warn the others of the danger, but Eckert was too fast. Like a striking snake, his other hand went to his jacket and came out with a small revolver. Caulder was moving, his gun tracking up at the same time as Cyclops went for his visor. The Number fired twice, and Frost crumpled.

"Emma!" Scott fired, his beam slamming into Eckert's chest like a sledge hammer, driving him to the ground. Both of John's shots went high due to Cyclops' shot. Scott moved forward towards Emma, while Caulder moved on the Number. The lean man rolled over, scrambling to his feet. The discarded celphone was at his feet, and Caulder caught his look towards it.

"Don't do it, Eckert. You're under arrest."

"Have you every read about St.John, detective?" The Number said, his odd voice now animate for the first time.

"Eckert- " Caulder said, catching the thinly veiled intimation towards martyrdom.

"For an equation to show its power, you must finish it first." The Number gave a tight smile, and lunged for the phone.

John Caulder fired twice.

"Scott, is Emma- " Caulder began, stepping over the prone body of Eckert, snapping the battery from the phone. Scott kneeled over her, tearing back the silk shirt and checking her body. The first slug had passed through her upper arm, missing the bone and leaving cleanly from the back. The second round had caught her under the right breast, leaving an ugly wound. Her breathing was shallow, and blood trickled around the bandage Scott had pressed to the wound.

"She's alive."

"I'll call for an ambulance."

"No." Scott hoisted Frost up in his arms. She groaned, protesting weakly. "I'll get her directly to a hospital."

"Scott, that's- "

"John, it's time for us to go."

"But- "

"I'll be in touch. Please, don't try to find us."

"I can't promise that."

"I know." Cyclops turned and began to head down the steps. For a moment, Caulder wrestled with his own instincts. They were a pair of vigilantes. Both broke the law on a regular basis. Even worse, both had used the department for their own ends. But they had brought down a man who was ready to commit an atrocity on the same scale as the Holocaust. John slowly holster his weapon, and sat down beside Eckert's corpse to wait for Piper. Eckert had been right about one thing; an equation's power was only realized at its end.

***

"The St.Patrick cathedral, one of New York's oldest and most celebrated churchs, has been witness to the dramatic end of a dark story. The serial killer know only as 'X Jack' was shot to death by detectives from the NYPD just prior to midnight in the upper reaches of the church. While details are sketchy, according to police sources, X Jack was in possession of a bomb of some type, which he was planning to detonate at the stroke of midnight."

"Detective William Piper, the head of the Task Force hunting X Jack said that details will not be released until the investigation is complete" The screen cut to a tired Piper, his face grey in the hot television lights.

"We have no intention of releasing any information at this time. X Jack, otherwise known as Thomas Allen Eckert, was an associate of the Friends of Humanity terrorist organization, and linked to several bombing prior to his death. We want to be sure that all elements of his quest have been neutralized before further details are released."

"Detective Piper, does that mean there is a risk of more explosions?"

"We don't believe so. Eckert did have a detonator for a small device in the church which has been retrieved and disabled. We just want to make absolutely sure that no other surprises are found. The ATF and elements of the NYPD bomb squad are at his residence right now, and should have the situation will in hand by morning."

"Detective, what lead to the final capture?"

"We have been following numerous leads, with assistance from outside agencies and some very talented people in the department. Once we found his house, this was the only place he could have gone. No further questions, thanks."

"Eckert was a former patient of the Eastpark Mental Hospital in New York. Doctor Richard Hillman, the chief of staff was one of the man who treated Eckert during his detainment. Doctor Hillman, was Eckert capable of the violence as X Jack?" Hillman appeared on the screen, outside of the Eastpark complex, a pencil twirling in his right hand.

"Certainly. Thomas Allen Eckert was a brilliant and meticulous psychopath. His mind was constantly under pressure from his own psychosis, and the rituals of his killings, the choosing, the hunt, served as a sort of outlet, a balm to his madness. Were it not for the police, he could have continued indefinitely."

"Why was he released if he was so dangerous?"

"Eckert came into the hospital voluntarily, which gives us a very difficult procedure under state law to have him interned against his wishes for a period of time. However, he had faked his own death and escaped us. I will be outlining this all on the Amber Jones show on Tuesday."

"A man thought dead, returning to avenge himself on those he believed wronged him, finally shot to death at the peak of his mad quest. The full truth of the serial killer known as X Jack may never be known, but that story at last can be called finished. For CNN, I'm Trish Tilby."

***

"Emma."

"Scott." Emma said wanly from the bed. "I see that we're not back at the estate."

"Your wound was fairly serious. I decided that it would be safer to get you to a local hospital until you were stabilized." Scott set down his package on the bedside and pulled up a chair.

"Was it that serious?"

"About an inch to the left and he would have hit you in the heart. As it was, the rib deflected the bullet down, through your lung. It was just luck that you weren't killed." Scott said.

"I'm too busy to die. Death will have to make an appointment with my assistant."

"I figured that."

"Eckert?"

"Went for the detonator. Caulder got him."

"Good. What does the detective know?"

"That we're not FBI. Remy managed to get the NYPD's request for information garbled, and send them a false response, so we're at least covered. Only Caulder knows enough to determine that we're X-Men."

"It's not going to take him long to piece the rest together."

"No."

"Scott, it would be safest for me to mind wipe him."

"I know." Scott stood up, pacing slowing in front of the windows. "That doesn't make it the right thing to do, though."

"How often have right and necessary ever been the same thing?" Emma said acerbically. "Scott, there are a few harsh facts about our world, and one of them is that to protect our students, and your dream, sometimes you have to step off the right path for a little while."

"Is that your opinion?"

"If he showed up at my school with a SWAT team in tow, I wouldn't hesitate to give each of them a major aneurism. I will not allow my students to be threatened again. Even if that means the removal of a dozen Caulders," Emma said, without fire or passion, a mere statement of absolute fact. Scott shivered a little inside, every so often amazed at the coldness of this woman he thought he knew.

"Is there another way?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Scott, this is a hospital. Don't you think you should have your hearing checked? I can ring for the nurse."

"Emma- " Scott growled.

"It's very simple. I can implant something I developed a few years ago. It's what is called a delayed trigger block. It sits deep in Caulder's subconscious. He'd never even know. However, a specific thought pattern, like say, the detective starting to look for us with threatening purposes in mind, it activates, and runs the telepathic commands." Emma stretched her neck to one side. "The command will strip him of the damaging knowledge of us. He'll be left with the memories of a pair of FBI agents that helped him on a case, and returned to Washington at the end."

"You know, they once implanted similar memories into Logan. It didn't work out very well."

"Considering they used cheap Korean optical chips inside the metal laced dome of his head, I'm not terribly surprised. Logan may have believed many things about his past, especially when his skull began to receive CNN signals." Scott laughed, breaking the tension. When he and Caulder had been in the diner, they had spoken of rules, and Scott was about to step away from his own rigidly defined set. However, he wasn't left with much choice. This way he would give Caulder his trust, but if that trust was broken, John himself would not suffer from it. He stared out the window over the city for a long moment, and then nodded.

"Alright, but before we do, we tell him everything."

"Excuse me?"

"Hearing problems, Emma?" The withering glare he received was highly gratifying. "Caulder has earned our trust. We show him the X-Men, and then if he turns, your implant takes effect."

"Why?"

"Because we need to start branching out, Emma. John was right. We never would have gotten involved if the X-Men had not been threatened. If that had happened, New York would be counting its dead as we speak. Caulder is smart, capable and likely in his job for a long time. I want to build a relationship with the department. The X-Men have to move out of the shadows, or the dream will never see the light," Scott said. Emma took in his body language and stilled her initial urge to clap sarcastically. The fact that she agreed with him was her secret.

"If you must. Now, shall we see about my clothes and getting out of this place?"

"You ever think I might want to keep you in bed, Emma?"

For the first time in her memory, Emma sat stunned, her mind fused. She shook off the shock like a tangible force and smiled at Scott.

"Mister Summers, if I didn't know better, I'd say that was an innuendo."

"Stranger things have happened. That's one for me." Scott grinned and walked out the door, leaving Emma to chuckle quietly as she began to gather her things.

***

"John. Will. Sit down." Adams twisted the unlit cigar between his fingers, scowling ferociously at the two detectives as they sat down. He brought it up to his lips, and with a deep sigh, fished out a lighter and flicked up a flame.

"Sir, your wife- " John started, and stopped as Oscar's glare bored into him.

"Now, both of you. I've read your reports. According to what you've told me, Piper followed up your original leads, John, and you just happened to be at the church when Piper uncovered this Eckert's plan. By the time you and the rest of the SWAT team reached St. Patrick's, John had identified the killer by his description, and subdued him with a firearm he wasn't supposed to have." Adams tossed the two reports down on the desk. "Now, this is the biggest pile of bullshit that I have ever read. John, you went after him, and somehow convinced Piper to help you, didn't you?"

"Chief, just like the reports says. It was coincidence." Caulder looked pained.

"John, I've been a detective since before you hit kindergarten. Give me a little credit."

"Chief, like John says. It all went down across the board," Piper said, adjusting his glasses nervously. Oscar Adams drew deeply on his cigar and l leaned back in his chair.

"I'm pretty sure the precinct is now all non-smoking- " John started and was again silenced with a glare. Adams finally shook his head and sat back up.

"Very well. We just got the final word from downtown. Will, because of your work on the case, the collar is officially yours. You've just been promoted. New rank, pay scale, all of that. You are the first member of the NYPD to ever bag a serial killer, Will," Oscar said, and turned to Caulder. "As for you, since you officially were on leave at the time, your presence was not as a police officer but as a civilian. You're going to receive a commendation from City Hall. No charges will be filed for your unregistered handgun, but it is not coming out of the evidence drawer. Don't ever carry a fucking unlisted piece in the city again, John. Not if you want to remain a detective."

"Uh, yes sir... sorry sir."

"Now, you will return to your job, and the review board has been advised that the bulk of the groundwork was prepared by you. It will look good on your record. We also got a call from the FBI. It seems that they were ready to take over once Eckert was listed as a serial killer. We got him about two days before their task force out of BSci Langley was going to move in. They wanted all sorts of files. Why they didn't just read their agents reports is beyond me." Adams pulled a piece of paper from his desk and tossed it at Caulder. "They want you to come out and do a full brief on Eckert to them. Asked for your performance record too. I think they want to headhunt you."

"Sir, I'm sure that- "

"John," Oscar said levelly, staring into Caulder's eyes. "You stepped outside the line on this one. You did a lot of good," John started to look up, and was stopped by the iron stare. "But you did it in the wrong way. This department is not about vigilantes. If they make an offer, the best thing for you to do is go."

"Wait, are you serious?"

"John, you've been falling apart for the last two years. Your dress, attitudes... everything since Jenny left. The fact that you're a brilliant reliable detective has been the only reason that your fitness reports haven't had you shuffled off to a traffic beat. But now I can't trust you. You've stepped off once, and I can't allow you a chance to do it again on my watch." Adams snuffed out his cigar. "This whole city owes you, John, and because of that, I'll give you the best recommendation to take to the Feds with you. There isn't a place for you here. Not now, not anymore. Now out, both of you. I've got work to do."

John Caulder started to open his mouth, to protest the decision when he really looked at Adams for the first time. The man looked sick, tired; a core of pain behind those dark eyes. It was the act of a father betrayed by his son, completely and irreversibly. The words died in his throat, and John nodded mutely, following Piper out.

They trudged silently down the short hall to the detectives pool, and stopped at his desk. Will sat down on the edge of the desk, staring at his hands.

"Look, John. I'm going to be flavour of the month for a little while. You can appeal this; fight it. I'll back you, and so will half of the others in the pen. If- "

"No." John turned, staring out the window. "Will, I think he might have been right. Too much of the same. I can't even hang a new picture in my own apartment, because it means she's gone for good. Too much of this town."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'll go talk to the FBI. Maybe they'll make an offer. Or I'll look at a transfer."

"One nowhere near Seattle?"

"Right. However, I'm still technically on leave. I think I'm going to take some time off, upstate. Go do some thinking."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, it's just because I heard that Erin Mallory was planning to spend a weekend up the Hudson." Piper grinned as John rolled his eyes.

"I wish. Look, congratulations on the promotion. You deserve it."

"No, you deserve it."

"Not really. Piper, can you do me a favour? I'm going to list the apartment. Keep an eye on the whole deal?"

"I can do that. I'm going to go get some coffee. You need anything?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." Caulder stood looking out his window as Piper walked away. He felt a certain clarity inside, a sense of peace lost to him ever since the loss of his wife. There was a lot of rubble in his life that simply disappeared.

The city skyline looked different in the waning light, with hints of red and gold running along the grey and blue reflective windows of the skyscrapers. It soothed his own imaginings of the skyline in red, reflecting only the carnage of flames and explosions. A small smile grew on his lips and he put his hand on the glass, leaning forward as if to connect directly to the city itself. He had crossed a line, but in doing so had ultimately done the duty he swore to do; 'To protect and serve'. John Caulder stood looking over the city, lost in the red on the skyscrapers and his own future.

FIN

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