In the Ashes

At eight in the morning, the phone rang. Dia was in the shower, so Cord had to make a tough decision: stay in bed and wait until the fucking machine stopped ringing or try to get up so his head didn't explode.

The phone did not stop. Hey, what about the five-ring rule?

Sighing, Cord slowly sat on the edge of the bed, then, overcoming a splitting hangover, managed to find the strength to get to the phone.

"Good morning!" he heard the cheerful voice of Force.

"And what do you mean by that?" Cord grumbled. "You called me just to wish me good morning? Or are you claiming that this morning is good, no matter what kind of hangover I have?"

A chuckle.

"Both that and the other," Force had joined the game, "and also that on such a wonderful morning, it would be great to go to the crime scene and try to figure out who killed Familiar."

"What?"

"Familiar was killed and some other people too."

"Who?"

"Guards. I would have gone to investigate them myself. However, Chief insisted that you urgently put yourself in order and get to work."

"Ah… Wait a minute, I'm missing something…" Cord rubbed his forehead. "Did you just say that Familiar is dead?"

"Twice."

"Oh, shit… How is Chief?"

"Awful. So when should I pick you up?"

"In fifteen minutes. And grab three cans of beer, please."

***

Cord began to drink the first can as soon as he got into the car.

"Then someone set fire to the house. Don't you remember? I told you yesterday about the fire." Force was usually not very chatty behind the wheel, but a lot had happened that night, and he was in a hurry to share it.

"Yesterday?" Cord shook his head again and took a few more sips. "I remember nothing at all."

"No wonder," Force chuckled, "you were completely wasted when I came to pick you up last night."

"At what time?"

"At half past ten. What?"

"Wow." Cord grabbed his head. "I remember nothing at all. Anyway, what's with Chief?"

"I don't know. Most likely, he's still there. At first, he was waiting for the fire to be extinguished, and then he was waiting for the body of his son."

"Hmm. Who did it? Any guesses?"

Force shrugged.

"That is why we are going there. I was already there when the fire was extinguished, but maybe with a fresh look, you will see something I missed."

"You're too happy," said Cord.

"I'm not happy. Just exciting."

"Do burned-up people turn you on?"

"Go to hell," Force smiled, "but since the hospital massacre, this is the most significant crime we've had. Can you imagine if it points us to the culprit?"

"Yeah, right! Up to now, there has been nothing to point us to him, but now he will just lay all his cards on the table and say, c'mon guys."

"Don't be a pessimist."

"I'm a realist. However, let's see."

***

On the road, some distance from the site of the fire, was the last fire unit. Since the road between the plots was quite wide and because they were luxury summer houses, next to the burned-out structure, there was plenty of space for an ambulance, a forensics van and two police SUVs, around one of which Chief was pacing nervously. The head of the remaining fire crew was saying something to him.

Force parked near the neighboring property. Forensics immediately approached them.

"Hi!" Cord nodded to him, getting out of the car.

"How are you? Can you work today?" he asked instead of a greeting.

"Yes, I'm quite well. Are they letting us into the house yet?"

Forensics nodded.

"It's been an hour now. And we just finished the job."

"Is Familiar inside?"

"His body is."

"As I understand it, we need to deal with him as soon as possible so that Chief can take him to the morgue?"

"Right."

"All right then, let's get to it."

***

The investigators and Forensics passed through the gate and headed to the location of the fire. Except for the glass that had shattered from the heat, the soot spreading around the windows, and the partially collapsed roof, the house seemed almost normal. The garage door was open, revealing a burned-out pickup truck littered with debris from the ceiling, and the front door to the house had been removed from its hinges and placed against the wall. White and purple light poured from inside the house: the forensic team needed adequate lighting to work, and it was still dark outside. The generators to which the lamps were connected hummed softly.

"This time there are many more traces than before, despite the fire," warned Forensics, "so the site review will drag on for a while."

"Well, I'm not in a hurry anymore," Cord said dismissively. "My birthday has been postponed indefinitely."

Entering the hallway, Cord looked around. Wooden wall cladding, spruce insulation, the ceiling—everything that was not brick was burned out. The cozy summer house had turned into a blackened abode of soot-filled death. Even though the massive wooden staircase did not collapse, it now looked highly unreliable.

Next to the bottom step, sitting with his legs wide apart and his back leaning against the wall, was the burned charcoal body of Familiar. It clutched a blackened rifle in its hands.

"Hmm," Cord looked around the body of his former friend. "What do you say, Force? Not under a cheese cap, of course, but not bad either."

Force was distracted from photographing.

"Cord! That joke was too black, even for you!"

"Such is the victim, such is the joke," Cord chuckled weakly.

As a human, Familiar was now nothing but a silhouette. His hair and clothes were burned completely off, and two black chasms now gaped in place of eyes. His lips were missing, and blackened teeth exposed. There was practically no skin left on the body, and burned muscles were clearly visible on the arms and legs. There were not even these in some places—the legs, forearms, and chest were partially burned down to the bone.

During his work, Cord had to observe many corpses, including various degrees of decomposition. But this burned-out man… Cord caught himself thinking that he perceived what was in front of his eyes only as a human mass and not as a recently living person with his own character, interests, and habits.

The practical investigator realized that there wasn't much to learn right now. Force began to photograph the dead man from different angles.

"How quickly did the firefighters arrive?" Cord turned to Forensics.

"Fifteen minutes after the fire was reported and an hour after it started," Forensics noted. "A column of smoke was noticed by a driver on the highway, and he made a call from the nearest gas station. When the firefighters arrived, the house was on fire."

Cord nodded.

"How quickly does a brick house like this burn down?"

"If I'm not mistaken, a wooden house would burn down in a few minutes," said Force, without taking the camera away from his face. "I don't know about brick ones. But in any case, an hour later, the task here was not to save the house but to protect the neighboring areas from fire."

"The cause of the fire?"

"Arson," again the voice Forensics. "Someone poured gasoline all over the house and lit it. Then the car in the garage and the electric generator in the basement also exploded. It is obvious that it was not negligence."

"Yeah."

A wide gaping hole was visible in the middle of Familiar's chest.

"And this, as I understand it, is the weapon."

The ax with a long charred handle had been driven into the handrail. Cord went up to it.

"Have you photographed this?" he asked Force.

"The front only," he was suddenly embarrassed, "so as not to go up the stairs with you."

"Then let's get some shots over here."

Force removed the strap from his neck and handed the camera to his friend. Cord took the pictures he needed and returned the camera.

"Well, I hope the ax won't fall apart."

He carefully pulled the blade out of the handrail. It came out easier than expected and didn't fall apart. Cord weighed the ax in his hands and grunted in surprise.

"It's heavy. And the handle is unusually long."

"Eighty centimeters," said Forensics.

"Because it's not really an ax. This is a splitting maul," explained Force.

"What's the difference?"

"An ax chops, a splitting maul splits."

"Explained as explained."

"You have already noticed the handle. It's long and slightly curved for a more comfortable grip with both hands. The blade is heavy, wedge-shaped, and blunt, but it easily enters the block and splits it, rather than cutting it. For example, if it takes two hits with an ax to deal with a birch chock of medium diameter—one to penetrate the log, the second to split it—with the splitting maul one will be enough."

"Hmm. Thanks for the clarification. So this splitting maul entered Familiar like a knife into butter. This is why the wound is so wide."

Cord cautiously laid the splitting maul on the step.

"As I understand it, this is the final point of movement for Familiar. Judging by the splitting maul and the gun in his hand, he clearly resisted."

"And the shots confirm it," Forensics said. "We found six shell casings and four marks from the shots. One of them is right there." He showed him the white chalk outline on the wall to the right of the stairs.

Cord considered this.

"Hmm… Perhaps Familiar had never been able to hit the killer. But why did he shoot to the left and not up to the second floor the last time he shot? Apparently, Familiar went down or was thrown down the stairs. This means that the major part of the confrontation took place on the second floor. Force, let's go up."

"Will the stairs hold me?" he asked fearfully.

"If they can't, we'll write you off as another victim of the house," Cord chuckled. "Forensics, are you coming with us?"

***

Unlike his colleagues, who calmly climbed upstairs, Force walked extremely carefully, holding onto the handrail and feeling each step with his foot before stepping on it. However, the staircase turned out to be stronger than it looked.

"There is an interesting shot here," said Forensics when they were all at the top of the staircase of the second floor. "It's right there in the floor."

Cord crouched down next to the mark his colleague had pointed out to him.

"Hmm. The shot was obviously accidental. Did his finger flinch? But why, in principle, would you point the gun down when the enemy is on the same level with you?"

"Perhaps there was a fight here," replied Forensics. "Further shots indicate such a scenario."

"So, on this landing, the killer clearly won. Let's say he pinned Familiar against the railing. But why? To strike him with the splitting maul did not require him to be so close. Why did the killer drag Familiar to the stairs?"

"And one more thing," added Force. "Why simply not throw him over the railing? It's even more dangerous this way."

"I guess because of the Familiar's size. Throwing a hundred kilograms is not so easy."

"Are you saying the killer wasn't a strong man?"

"Well, physically, he is probably well developed."

"And extremely dexterous," added Forensics. "When you go to the checkpoint, you will understand why."

Cord nodded.

"First, let's finish with this. So there was a fight here, right before Familiar fell down the stairs. But I still don't understand why the killer would drag the victim to the stairs instead of hacking him open with the splitting maul?"

"Answer." Forensics patted the right doorjamb. "The killer might not have had the splitting maul because it was stuck here."

Cord stepped closer. Indeed, having cut through the wooden door frame, the splitting maul had entered the brickwork.

"That's it! The assassin clearly did not expect the ax to go so deep, so he was forced to improvise. This explains why he needed to get close to Familiar and lead him to the stairs. The killer just wanted to get his weapon back, then he threw Familiar down the stairs to disorientate him."

"But that doesn't explain why Familiar shot the floor," Force noted.

"You're right. Any ideas?"

"An accidental shot? Or the killer contrived it and pointed the gun down at the moment of the shot."

"I admit, that version has the right to exist," Forensics agreed. "As I said, the killer is extremely dexterous and, I'm afraid, extremely professional."

"Good. Let's go into the room."

***

They were right in the part of the building where the roof had collapsed. The far side of the room was littered with pieces of the burned ceiling and tiles, and the doorway to the bedroom was blocked by a sign "Do not enter! Life-threatening!" Catching Cord's eye, Forensics explained:

"Remember when I mentioned the car exploded? This room is just above the garage, and the floor has partially collapsed."

"I see."

"Maybe I shouldn't go into any room?" Force asked. "I mean, you are slim guys, and I am corpulent…"

"Is that what 'fat' is called now?" Cord chuckled. "Okay, give me the camera and go down. Also, you can go over to Chief and report to him we are finished with Familiar."

Sighing with relief, Force immediately passed on what was necessary to his friend and went to his boss.

"You said that you found traces of four shots," Cord turned to Forensics.

"Right," he nodded. "You have already seen two. The next one is now on your left, the other is in the broken TV. And others may be behind these collapsed areas. Still, until we clear them out, I cannot say."

"Hmm. Either the killer was moving so quickly and chaotically that Familiar could not aim, or the latter fired from fear wherever he hit. I will assume that the middle phase of the battle took place near this area."

"And it all started, it seems to me, at the sofa," Forensics nodded.

A pile of springs and the remnants of a frame were all was left of that piece of furniture now. Half of it was littered with pieces of slate.

"Two things are interesting here," Forensics continued. "First, pay attention to the many small holes nearby."

"Hmm. The cartridges exploded?"

"Correct assumption. How did you figure that out?"

"Well, if there was a weapon here, then it needed to be loaded with something."

"Right. But the radius of the dents from the shots is smaller than those left by the rifle."

"Pistol?"

"Most likely. But we haven't found any weapons yet. It might be in the gun safe in the bedroom we don't have access to yet. But the second detail is more interesting."

Forensics crouched down and pointed to the pieces of charred substance remaining on the sofa's springs.

"What is it?" Cord frowned.

"Silicone."

"I don't understand—"

"The Villain's mask was also silicone. Perhaps the traces are from it. The analysis will show that. But if that's true, then we have just found the Villain."

Cord nodded slowly.

"So. We need to think about this. But didn't you say there was something else interesting in the house?"

***

The men went down to Force, who was already waiting for them. Familiar's body was gone.

"Well, what?"

"Perhaps Familiar was the Villain," Cord replied and briefly described what he saw.

"If so, you were right from the very beginning," said Force.

"It doesn't matter now," waved away Cord. "What's next?" he turned to Forensics.

"To the kitchen. It's okay, Force, you don't have to worry about falling through the floor there."

"Usually in the kitchen everything falls on me," he said sarcastically, smiling.

The kitchen was also severely damaged. All the appliances were utterly burned out, and the electric stove and refrigerator were covered with a thick layer of soot. This was expected. But what was unusual was the wide-open window. The glass in it had also been shattered, but the fragments lay inside, perpendicular to the windowsill, and not along it.

"Did you open it?" asked Force.

"No, of course not," answered Forensics. "Look at the fragments: the glass was broken during the fire."

"Hmm. But why open a window in winter? To smoke?"

"Hardly," Cord shook his head. "To smoke, there is no need to chill the entire house. Rather, Familiar went to smoke on the porch."

"Your version?"

"At first, I assumed that the killer could have come in through the window, and then I thought—why? After all, he could have used the door. Now I think—"

"I think the reason is obvious," interrupted Forensics. "Cravings."

"Yeah," Cord said. "Surely the killer and the arsonist are the same person. He opened the window, so that there was a draft and the fire spread faster. By the way, what was the accelerant?"

"As I said, gasoline," answered Forensics. "Familiar had several cans of it. For the generator, it is in the basement."

"We'll go down there too."

"There is not much of interest down there, except perhaps a severed electrical wire. Apparently, that was how the killer de-energized the house."

Cord nodded.

"What else did you want to show us?"

"Let's go to the veranda."

The men passed into the adjoining room. It had suffered the least, and even some windows were still intact.

"Apparently, the killer's goal was not to burn down the whole house, but only to cover up his tracks," Force commented on what he saw and then nodded at the burned-out window opening. "You wanted to show it to us?"

Forensics nodded:

"The killer got into the house through the window. He broke it, most likely with the splitting maul, and then entered."

"Are there any clothing fibers on the fragments?" Cord asked.

Forensics shook his head.

"No. The killer poured gasoline over the window and the fragments very carefully. If there was anything, it burned up in the fire."

"By the way, where did the killer get the splitting maul from?"

"From the shed, which was also burned down, in case you weren't paying attention."

"Good. Let's go there later. Is that everything that you wanted to show us?"

"Yes. Now you need to walk to the checkpoint. It's time for me to start working with Familiar."

***

The fire brigade had already left, but the fire inspector had arrived and was drawing up the reports.

It was only two hundred meters to the development entrance, so Cord and Force decided to take a walk. Forensics gave commands to the forensic team and went to the morgue: it was required that he carry out an autopsy as soon as possible and complete all the paperwork. That would take at least the entire day, and the investigation should not slow down, moreover, in such a case as this one.

"Wait a minute," Cord suddenly stopped at the metal picket fence that fenced off the territory of the summer house. "Look."

"What is there?" Force looked where his friend was pointing.

"The snowdrift is shaved off."

"So what? There were many cars here today."

"That's the point. And the track of the wheel under it is clearly that left by a motorcycle, and it's fresh."

"Hmm. I see." Force started taking pictures. "Do you think our killer came here on a motorcycle?"

"Why not?"

***

Finally, the investigators reached their destination—a small one-story brick building. The door was open, but there were no forensic experts nearby. Apparently, they had finished here too.

"The door was not broken open," stated Force. "So, the killer was admitted in."

"Hmm, most likely, the door was usually not locked. What for? There was no one here."

Entering the checkpoint, they looked around. In the center of the only room lay an inverted table and two chairs, nearby, scattered playing cards, an open bottle of vodka without vodka in it, two glasses, and the corpse of a young man lying on his left side in a bent position. His companion, old and gray, was standing in a kind of kitchen area to the right of the refrigerator, which had bloodstains on the door.

Force approached the body of the young man and began to photograph it.

"He looks about our age, maybe slightly older, about forty."

Cord walked around the chair in front of the body and squatted down. The man's head was covered in blood, and a deep knife wound was visible on his right temple.

"The first victim," said Cord.

"I don't quite understand how he died."

"From a blow to the temple with a knife."

"No, no, I'm talking about something else," Force shook his head. "That would have been a very difficult stab, right? And the killer had to be exactly behind him. The victim had to remain still, but this would have been impossible: there is only one entrance, the room is perfectly visible, and the friend of the murdered man was sitting opposite. Then how did the killer manage to sneak up and strike?"

"Maybe Forensics was talking about precisely that when he mentioned the dexterity and professionalism of the killer? This guy was sitting almost opposite the entrance. The killer burst into the building and stabbed him quickly and accurately in the temple. The killing took a second or two seconds if everything was done perfectly. But there is one thing, and you voiced it."

"It would have been tough."

"In my opinion, almost impossible."

Cord got up.

"The second guard had already reacted and jumped up from the table, knocking over the chair."

"And then ran to the kitchen, probably for a knife."

"Yes. The killer was behind him. Then he flipped the table over, whether for effect or to get by the obstacle. Let's go to the old man."

The body of the gray-haired man was half-standing at the sink. His head and left hand were in the sink; the right one hung along the side. A clean kitchen knife was lying on the floor nearby, but Cord was interested in the other, sticking out of the victim's back in one of the wounds.

"Where could I have seen this?" he muttered.

"I'll tell you," Force replied. "During the massacre in the hospital, we found one that was almost the same."

"So the killer from the hospital and this one are the same?"

"Not only is the weapon the same but also the method—a massacre."

"He was fast and calculated. It is unlikely that the killer was stupidly brandishing a knife."

Cord stepped closer to the body. Six stab wounds in the man's back, his right arm pierced all the way through at the bend of the elbow.

"This one resisted," said Cord. "It would be good if it had been effective and he managed to wound the killer, but we are unlikely to be so lucky."

"That's for sure," Force sighed.

"Here the strikes are no longer too difficult. Except one."

"Which one, the one in the bend of the elbow?"

"Yes. Apparently, the old man managed to grab a kitchen knife and turn around, but the killer was too close. He caught his hand and nailed it to the refrigerator. Look at this trace," Cord touched the dent. "This blow was also not an easy one, but since the killer managed to plunge a knife into someone's temple while on the move, a blow to the elbow would have been a piece of cake for him."

"And then he turned the old man around, put his head in the sink, and stabbed him in the back several times. What for?"

"I don't know. Maybe he just wanted to. After all, technically, from that moment on, he could beat anywhere and as much as he wanted: the guard was neutralized. But for some reason, the killer decided to spend time on a massacre."

"I still don't understand: why kill the watchmen at all?"

"Well, look: the killer did not arrive here on foot. And there is only one gate. The fire, by the way, helped the killer to hide the traces of his transport."

"How?"

"They were erased by the fire trucks. Also, it was a motorcycle. It is the only track different from the rest."

"So you admit that the killer from the summer house and the one from here are the same?"

"Hmm." Cord thought. "It seems to me…" he continued slowly. "There could be two different assassins involved. And the murders here may have been done by Familiar."

Force looked at his friend, puzzled.

"Look," Cord began to explain. "Do you agree that running into the room looks unrealistic?"

Force nodded.

"Imagine another scenario: Familiar comes to the checkpoint, and the guards are playing cards. He talks peacefully with them. Then he stands behind the young man, puts his left hand on his shoulder, and with his right, drives a knife into his temple. Is that so far-fetched?"

"And the blow to the bend of the elbow?"

"Luck."

"Listen, you may be right…" Force muttered thoughtfully. "But why would Familiar even kill his own guards?"

"That is actually our profession, to sort things like this out," Cord chuckled. "And if Familiar really was the Villain, there is no point in being surprised about their deaths."

Force nodded.

"Also, how do I know that the killer in the house and the one here were not the same?" continued Cord. "Because the checkpoint was not burned down."

"Maybe there was not enough gasoline."

"Let me remind you that a gas tank exploded near the car in the garage. If the question were of the amount of flammable liquid, the killer would have drained fuel from there. Well, and if the killer here had wielded a knife, it is unlikely that he would not have taken it with him to attack the house."

"And if he, that is the Villain, imagines himself an executioner and for the sake of symbolism decided to execute Familiar with an ax?"

"That is still not a reason to leave a knife in the body of a guard unless the killer is a poser. Being a poser in such a case would be stupid. This criminal obviously is not."