SAGN: Chapter Thirteen- Two Eyes Burning free porn video

Chapter Thirteen: Two Eyes Burning Fourth Precinct: Day 26, 1000 hours When whoever it was that was responsible for sketching the layout of the fourth precinct first put drafting pencil to paper, there was one thing they were remarkably consistent about in their vision for the place. And that was that the office space that was assigned to each section head was always on the far end of each department's assigned area. If you were looking at it from the top down you would see that the design of each floor was a mirror; each side reflecting the other in layout. Because it was a subunit of DSVD, missing persons didn't rate a full floor for its own dedicated use like some of the other divisions did. There were three long connecting hallways that stretched between the two wings of each floor. The two floors that made up the Detective Support and Vice Division occupied the bulk of those two floors that were assigned to them. Technically missing person functioned as part of vice, but in practice they operated more or less independently of each other. In the floor plan of the fourth precinct, missing persons took up the side of the building facing the main road while the mirror part of the floor housed those detectives who mainly specialized in investigating prostitution and pandering. Until Mitch had transferred here and become his partner that was where he had worked. Because the architect who designed it had a more traditional streak, the office of the lieutenant in charge of each section sat square in the center of the far end of the each of the large open rooms where the bulk of the investigators were located. There were smaller offices along the side of the room overlooking the side streets that flanked both sides of the building. Those were assigned for the use of the senior detectives. You still couldn't miss Clayton's office though. It sat on the far end of the large open room and overlooked the area where the detective pool was assigned. The design made it easy for her to see and be seen. In service to that idea there were glass walls that allowed her to look out into the room that stretched down the length of this side of the building. If you were looking in the direction of the office from the detective pool you could see into it, but only if the interior curtains were not drawn. In that case that was all you saw and in situations like this morning, anyone who glanced in the direction of Clayton's office would only see those curtains and not know that this morning that Jim Brighton was sitting in one of the padded chairs placed opposite her own. That didn't mean that it was dark inside of Clayton's office this morning. While the interior wall curtains were drawn right now the same wasn't true of the exterior ones. Both the curtains and the blinds that normally framed the glass sheets looking out over the street below were partially open. The better to let the morning sunlight stream into the room giving it a warm midmorning glare that was less brilliant that it would be later on when the sun was moving to set and shining fully in this direction. Clayton was eyeing Jim now as she had the moment he had walked into her office a few minutes ago. Her steady gaze almost gave him the impression that in some way she could peer into him. As if by doing so she would be certain that what she was seeing would confirm that he was actually ready to return to duty. "I know the last few weeks haven't been easy on you." she told him, "But I need to be sure before I okay you returning to duty. I need to know that you're not pushing yourself too fast too soon. So I need you to tell me the absolute truth about this Brighton. I need you to convince me that you are fit to return. Can you do that today?" Lt. Clayton asked him. She leaned in towards him over her desk as if daring him to say otherwise and waited for him to answer. Jim was actually surprised at her reluctance and the idea that he needed to demonstrate his fitness to return when he had already been cleared to do just that, wasn't what he would have expected from her. "Yes ma'am," he said, "I understand what you're saying, but I am fit to return to duty. It's all in the paperwork there that they gave me when they cleared me." Clayton picked up the form that he had handed her when he knocked on her door after arriving at the station and looked it over again. She was being more deliberate in her examination of it this time and when she finished it she lay it down on the dark wood of her desk. "I have to know for certain before I sign off on you returning. Your medical evaluation says here that you are cleared to return and on the surface you look fit, but your physical condition never had anything to do with why you were put on medical leave in the first place. I need you back, but I don't need you coming back before you are ready. So I'm asking you again. Are you ready?" Jim supposed that if he were in her position, that objectively, he would have asked the same thing of a detective under his authority who had returned to duty under the circumstances that he had, but her insistence on this point still felt almost like she didn't want him back and that made no sense to him, but there it was. "Yes ma'am," he said. "I feel confident that I am ready. It's been five days since my last episode. They told me that once I had gone three days without one that they would be willing to clear me for light duty. When I passed that mark they requested that I agree to refrain from returning for an additional two days so they could make certain it was safe for me to do so." "All right then," she said to him. "I can't argue with that. You're cleared to return then. Welcome back." She leaned over the table to him and extended her hand. He took it in his larger one and as they shook it almost felt like they had come to a bargain of some kind instead of her letting him know that she was glad that he was finally fit once again. She seemed to relax almost when they ended the handshake, but what that was a reaction to Jim had no idea. The thing was that while Clayton may have looked relieved to hear that Jim was not likely to fall over his desk twitching and helpless anymore, she had no idea of how much relief that Jim actually felt now that this ordeal was over and the time since his last seizure was stretching longer with each hour. "You know I had to ask," she said, "For professional reasons and for my own personal interest. I needed to know that when they cleared you that it was thorough. I can't have you seizing up in the bullpen because you pushed it and came back before you should have. Considering the details that they shared with me, I needed to know for certain that if you were to go over the information that you were experiencing in any way that you wouldn't be triggered by it again." Jim confined his answer to a nod in the affirmative and a positive sounding grunt. If she only know just how thorough the final check they had subjected him to before releasing him back to light duty actually was. The whole time he was going through the test they had devised, he was dreading the possibility that the next word, the next thought was going to send him spinning back down like an out of control plane, but he'd made it through with only a slight ill feeling. The relief he'd felt when they told him that ill feeling was a positive sign in itself actually made him feel better even as it was twisting his stomach in knots. Eventually, they assured him, that feeling would subside as well and at some point he would feel nothing when he thought of any part of the vision that had twisted his world and turned his life upside down for the last couple of weeks. "Okay then." she said to him, "But I'm telling you the same as I told Mitch when he was cleared a couple of days ago. If it even looks like you are going to relapse I'll yank you off of the active list immediately. I need you both back here, but I need you back functional, understand me?" "Perfectly ma'am," he said. "Good," she said, "Now as I told Mitch when he came back, the first priority I need from the two of you is to close out the Barnes and Phillips cases. I've been going over the preliminary reports that the two of you had assembled before your departure and considering what we know about them and how they have played out, I don't see how keeping either investigation open is justified at this point. But before I directly order you to close them I want to hear from you as the lead investigator." "Ma'am, in the broad sense, I have to agree with you, but at the same time I have to also say that there are still certain areas that strongly indicate that further investigation is warranted." Jim said to her. "In what sense? You have located both missing persons haven't you?" Clayton said. "Yes, ma'am, but there is still this individual that Barnes reported being attacked by. At the very least a separate investigation to continue looking into that aspect is something I would strongly recommend, if for no other reason than such an individual may prove to have a possible involvement with other open cases and at the very least may attack others." Clayton's eyes narrowed and she leaned back in her chair thoughtfully. "That's going to be a problem," she said, "based on what information that both you and detective Travers have submitted, I'm not sure what to make of this...development." she said to him, "I'm not contradicting what you and detective Travers are pointed to, but the implication of you both suggesting we investigate may not be viewed in the same light by an outside observer." "The fact is that if you are pushing the department to divert resources to tracking down someone who, and I'm quoting your report here, 'moves surrounded in shadow and appears to possess mystical abilities' I'm not sure that Stafford P.D. can oversee that kind of investigation. Now, understand me when I say this that I'm not dismissing your conclusions, but I'm not sure that we could justify such an investigation for very long." Jim fixed her gaze with his own. "So are you telling me to bury this then? To ignore what an eyewitness account is showing us?" "I'm not even sure how what you report here even fits into this legally," she said. "I know that you and Travers both witnessed this and were mentally wrecked by it for the last couple of weeks but that still doesn't change that I can't even begin to place it in a legal context. Neither of you actually witnessed what happened so in a way what you both are reporting is more like hearsay, but at the same time you have seen it firsthand and that presents problems of its own. Say we do as you suggest and we actually track this unsub down? The last thing we need is to devote time and resources to a hunt that, if this is all we have to base our case on, might have a hole the size of Texas in it when we hand it off to be prosecuted. Do you see what I'm saying here?" Jim did see her point. The last thing he wanted to do was track down whoever this shadowy man was, manage to take him into custody and then see him walk because of a potential grey area like this in the law. But he didn't think it was a lost cause either. The regular legal system might have a blind spot where something like this was concerned but that didn't mean that they were without options either. The FRT might very well have something that neither of them was currently aware of that would cover a situation like this. And remembering what he saw in Barnes's vision he wasn't ready to let it go. "It doesn't change the fact that we do have conclusive evidence that an unsub of this nature does exist ma'am." Jim pointed out, " And it doesn't eliminate the strong possibility that this unsub may very well be involved in other areas that do fall under our authority here." Clayton held up her left hand in a go slow gesture. "I believe you detective," she said, "I'm making certain you understand the ramifications that such an expansion of this investigation would entail. And I'm pointing out that it's all too likely that degree of expansion would be shut down by others who are not as cognizant of the details as we are." "Ma'am, we can't ignore this development either," Jim said. "I don't want to suggest that you should," she said to him, "I'm trying to be realistic here and I'm suggesting that you employ some tact in pursuing this until you have something more concrete to point to. You bring me something that I can beat a skeptic over the head with and I'll back you all the way, but you're got to be careful about this." "I understand, ma'am," Jim said. "So you want me to fly under the radar on this?" "No, you may not have anything that you can do, but I may have something else in mind that could deal with this. But in the meantime what I want you to do is to close the Barnes case itself and bring me every scrap you can find that supports going after this unsub that your investigation has turned up. You bring me that and we're both in a solid position to not only zero in on whoever this is, but justify it as well to those who don't know any better. The last thing we need is for some busybody in the press to start screaming that we're wasting time and resources investigating the invisible man." "I understand that," Jim said. "But we can't leave this hanging either." Clayton looked at him from the far side of her desk. It was almost a trick of the light but it felt to Jim like her eyes had gotten brighter when she started talking to him again. For a moment it seemed to him like they were almost luminous in the hazy morning light that washed around her office. And the thing was that, trick of the light or not, he couldn't break the hold that gaze had on him. "It won't be left hanging. Closing these two investigations is your primary focus for now detective," she said to him. "What comes after that can wait until we have something that we can point to. I don't want you branching out into anything else until these cases are put to bed. Can you do that?" Jim nodded. When she put it that way agreeing with her made complete sense. Yes, the investigation as far as this tangent could continue in the future, but she was right that they could also close these two cases out as well. Accepting that suggestion didn't mean that it was over and looking at it in that light there seemed little reason not to. His eyes remained fixed in hers and he heard himself agreeing to not pursue anything else until he had closed the books on these two cases. "And that brings up another aspect of this whole thing that I need to discuss with you. I'm sorry, detective but I'm going to need you to rewrite your report before submitting it," she told him allowing her gaze to fall away from him. "In what way ma'am?" Jim asked. Clayton slid one of the folders on her desk across the surface to him. "I want you to look over the report that you have right now and try to look at it in the way that someone who does not have your knowledge of these matters will look at it. And then you tell me why I'm asking you to do this." Jim slowly took the file and flipped it open. The first sheet was his preliminary report. He did as she suggested and slowly read his way through what he had written. There were a few twinges of nausea in his stomach and he was lightheaded for a couple of moments in places, but that was as far as his physical reaction to reading it went. He closed the file and slid it back toward her. "Everything in that report I stand by," he said. "I understand that and you are completely right, but we can't file this. Take a moment and think on this and I think you'll understand why this can't be what someone pulls up if they want to look this case over just now," she said to him in a serious tone. "Lieutenant, I understand what you're saying, I really do," Jim answered. "I have a report where better than half of the information substantiating it comes from a psychic vision. It's talking about not only one, but two men, not only being assaulted by mythical creatures, but one of those same men actually becoming a mythical creature. In any other circumstances I'd agree that not only is this is weak and unreliable testimony, but it could likely be explained away in some areas because of that." "But regardless of that, the fact also is that the physical evidence we gathered before we got visual confirmation through that vision strongly supports that testimony." "Jim, I understand I really do, but you also need to consider the other factors that are in play here as well and those factors outweigh this report no matter how accurate it is," Clayton said insistently. "It doesn't matter that everything you have written is absolutely true," she told him. "No one is going to see this report for a very long time. Not in the Stafford P.D. Think about it for a moment. You're seconded to the FRT right now. That means that both of these cases are in their jurisdiction now. What do you think they will do with what you have here?" "They're going to bury it," Jim said without missing a beat. "They can't do anything else with it." "That's right Jim," Clayton said, "they're going to bury it and that leaves us holding the bag. Right now the whole city is in an uproar over part of Olympia being quarantined and the news just broke that many people are not going to be allowed to return home because of the contamination of the area. People are going to be looking for answers and something like this will be the last thing we need to have as general knowledge. They won't accept it and no matter how bad it is now, it will be worse under those circumstances." "I understand that ma'am," he said, "so I'm going to have to ask you if this means that you want me to falsify this report?" "No, I don't," she said, "I want you to document every detail you have uncovered before you file your final report. I want you to nail it down so tight that nothing could possibly sink it and then I need you to make a second report that muddies the waters. One that we can file in Stafford's case log. For now that one will have to be the official one. The FRT is right; the general public isn't ready to read something like what you have here. The other division heads, the captain, the commissioner, all of them will know that you have written the absolute truth here, but they are not who we have to be concerned with." Clayton's head bobbed in the direction of the windows looking out into the city around them. "I need you to think what is going to happen if some snooping reporter lays their hands on what you have there? It's bad enough that the public is mad as hell over the Olympia situation. If they find out what is really behind it, there will literally be heads rolling in the street." "I understand that ma'am," Jim said, "and I'm not going to raise a stink about it. I understand what needs to be done, but first I'm going to lay out what happened as it happened." "And make no mistake, that's just what I want you to do. But I also need you to make sure all the bases are covered. Two reports, on my desk as soon as you can put them together. Just make sure that you get both of them right," she said. "And make sure no one outside of this tight little circle lays eyes on the real report." "So is there anything I need to know before I write this work of fiction?" Jim asked. "You're going to have to explain Barnes's disappearance in a way that meshes with the public story. I'd suggest that you do what Mitch is doing with the Phillips report or at least something similar." "But we still have Phillips, he was retrieved and is still under quarantine the last I was told," Jim said to her. "The official story is that Phillips was evacuated for exposure after becoming disoriented and losing consciousness. From what I'm told about his current condition it doesn't look like he may recover. And if he does die as a result of what happened to him, which is going to be what the official judgment says." "I don't think exposure is going to hold up very well as an explanation Lieutenant. He disappeared during a time of year that most people can comfortably stretch out on their front porch all night if they choose to," Jim pointed out. "He disappeared during a weeklong rainstorm; he was exposed to toxic chemicals and passed out because of it. Exposure is not that farfetched of an explanation. It takes less than most people think to die from exposure, even without toxic chemical contact to hurry it along," she replied. That was true enough. Jim had seen plenty of people who had nearly died in conditions that most people would have shaken off ordinarily. "What about Barnes then? How do I explain him?" "I would suggest that he may have come into contact with the chemical contamination in some other similar fashion. But in his case he was exposed to a greater more concentrated amount and did die from his exposure to it. We can quietly announce that his body has been recovered and his sister can file a wrongful death lawsuit. She'll have plenty of company doing that incidentally," Clayton said. "So that's how they're going to handle it?" Jim asked. "The ball is already rolling," Clayton said, "the holding company that is apparently responsible for this entire situation already has their lawyers in court arguing that they can't be held responsible for this. They are trying to argue that the original company is the one that bear full and sole responsibility and they merely bought the assets when they took it over." "That's going to go over like a turd in a punch bowl," Jim said. "It's supposed to," Clayton said. "The whole point is to get the public good and furious over an out of state corporation trying to sleaze their way out of any responsibility. There's already a class action lawsuit filed, several individual suits and the DA and state prosecutor are preparing to rake them over the coals. When this finally shakes out, this company is going to start quietly offering generous settlements." The plaintiffs' attorneys are going to smell blood and they are going to get massive payouts for their clients over this. The company is going to be forced to pay to relocate everyone and the state and federal EPA is going to hit them with massive fines to clean up this environmental catastrophe. That is what the general public is going to see as this plays out." "After news cycle turns away from this, the holding company will quietly stop fighting those judgments and within a couple of years it will be quietly forgotten by most people, but not until after the people in that area end up with a couple of hundred pounds of flesh each." "I suppose that might work," Jim said. "I wondered how they were going to swing a relocation of that size. And the company is just going along with it?" Jim said. "How did they manage that?" "The company is owned by the Grove now. They bought all of the assets while you were out recovering. As for filtering compensation in this manner, this was their proposal. They know that they can't just walk up and outright buy the property without good reason. Too many people would refuse in the short term unless there was a compelling reason to encourage them to leave." Jim's head was whirling as he considered this approach and at first glance he didn't see that much that was wrong with a solution like this. There were at least three or four small towns that he already knew of that had been evacuated across the country because of industrial contamination and that now existed only as blank spots on the map. Taking this approach to clear the area around the Grove could well work as long as no one deliberately sabotaged things. Someone like Alderman Kinsey for instance. He could really screw the collective pooch and he didn't hesitate to point that out to Clayton. "Kinsey is actually being useful for this," Clayton said almost as if she expected him to shoot the whole thing in the foot at the last minute. "He's an attention whore, but something like this is what he was made for. The council is encouraging him to whip up public sentiment against the holding company. Every time he opens his mouth in front of a camera the amount the public in that area is convinced they deserve as compensation grows. I just hope he can shut his mouth when the time comes so the lawsuits can finish laundering the Grove's buy-out of the area." "So that's why you need this report then," Jim said. "That's right, Kinsey has whipped them up, but it's starting to become less effective. The department releasing a report that one missing person has died in connection with this and a second one may die as well from exposure is just what is needed to push it over to top. It's the only way we can explain why such a large payout to the people there is justified as well as ensure the relocation goes ahead as rapidly as possible." "I'll wrap the real one up first if you don't mind. I've still got some things to fit into place first. But I'll cut what I can out of the cover report. That will say that Barnes was found near the centre of the chemical dump and when his body was recovered he had already been dead for several days," Jim said. "The fact that you and Travers have been on medical leave the last couple of weeks actually is good support for this Brighton. We can point to that as supporting evidence of the two of you being exposed as well." "I'll submit them both at the same time then," Jim said, "but the real one I'm putting in your hands directly." "Just do your best Jim," she said, "I know this is asking a lot of both of you, but you more than anyone know how important this whole thing is," Clayton said earnestly. "I should have it wrapped up in a few days ma'am," he said, "but what happens after that?" "How do you mean?" she asked. "Once Mitch and I turn this in, the two of us have an empty caseload. Considering how much had to be shifted around when you assigned these cases to us, maybe we could take back some of the ones we were working on before this?" "Jim, I'll tell you what I told Mitch. As much as I would like to, I can't assign either of you anything," she said. "Why not?" he asked. "Because both of you belong to the FRT as long as they are the ones calling the shots in Olympia. Until they close the books on their end, I can't involve you in investigating what's for lunch, let alone any cases that are already under investigation. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied," she said. "Okay, I get that," he said, "I don't like it but I get it. But I'm sure that there is still something we can do unofficially once we close these two cases. Singh mentioned that you were running an investigation looking at possible connections between other cases and these two. Mitch and I can fly under the radar that way and still pull our weight." "I've already got someone looking into that, Jim," she said. "The two of you getting involved in that fashion, the way things are, is a complication. Maybe we can do that later, but not now." "Nobody needs to know..." he started to protest. "No. There are too many eyes on this for that to work," Clayton said, "While you're seconded to FRT, I have to keep you clear of any other investigations that the department is running, and that includes looking for this unsub, that's just how it's going to have to be Jim. The minute you are clear of them we'll reassess that, but until then your only job is to clear those two cases, understand?" "Yes ma'am," Jim said. "Will that be all?" Clayton nodded and Jim rose and turned to exit her office. He knew enough to know that butting his head here was a waste of time, besides there had to be more than one way to get around the restriction that FRT involvement had constrained them with. ------------------------------------------ Fourth Precinct, Stafford: Day 30, 1522 hours Jim turned away from the computer monitor that had absorbed his attention the last couple of days since he had spoken with Clayton. "Hey Mitch?" He said to his partner who was also absorbed in creating the final report for the Phillips case. "What?" Mitch said to him almost as though answering was an imposition that he had to tolerate. Jim checked the notes on his desk. "Did Clayton happen to mention what the dump site was supposed to have in it? I forgot to ask her." Mitch did stop what he was doing then. He shuffled around through some of the papers stacked to one side of his desk and found the one he was looking for. "Cadmium, chromium, and lead are what I have here. Formaldehyde as well in the outer areas," he said scanning the list that he had. "And they're sure about those specific ones?" Jim asked writing them down on a notepad. "No reason why they shouldn't be," Mitch responded, "Textile mills were notorious back then for dumping that sort of stuff and then not saying anything about it." "Nasty collection," Jim said, but it fit what he knew about it as well. They still would have to be careful. It wasn't just the casual consumer of this story that they had to be concerned with, but people like his grandmother who had actually worked in Alagosta Mills before it had closed down. The mills might not be running anymore, but there were still enough people who knew what was what that they needed to be careful with what was said about this. If they smelled a rat right away then things would start falling apart. And then there were also more immediate concerns that came into play. "I can see that adding up," he said to Mitch, "But not entirely, most of that is more of a long term health hazard. How likely is it that they are going to buy that contact with this particular cocktail of waste explains Barnes dying and Phillips in isolation." "I don't think most people are going to look any deeper than they have to Jim," Mitch replied. "The eco-warriors are going to chalk it up as a win. The population there is being comfortably bought out. The PTB are more interested in making this whole thing go away. On the whole there are a lot of positives coming out of this that are more likely to overshadow the negatives I think." Jim thought about what Mitch was saying and it pretty much matched his own assessment of what was going on as well. "You're probably right about most people," he said, "but those who love a good conspiracy theory will dig into this like a dog with a bone if they think they smell anything. If that happens, I suppose we'll think of something. How is your end of things going? Anything I should know about before I submit this work of fiction?" "I'm finished with the report itself actually. I was just going over it before giving it to Clayton. And you're probably right about the conspiracy prone. Those are the kind of people that see a mountain of horseshit and start digging because they're convinced that there must be some kind of horse in there somewhere. Let's just hope that no one feels like digging into this particular mountain of horseshit. How's your side of the fence?" "The cover report is done for the most part," Jim said, "but until I get a few more things from the tech guys I can't do anything with the overall report." "Why the hell not?" Mitch asked swiveling in his chair now. "We were out of commission for almost three weeks. They've had that time and then some to go through the video data. What did they say when you asked them about it?" "They said, and I quote; "with all the other demands from other investigations, that request was pushed back to a lower priority since the investigating officers were not available." "Figures, what did you say?" Mitch snarled. "I told them that it was a priority now and as the investigating officer for them to get the lead out of their collective asses and get it to us yesterday," Jim growled back. "That's going to cost you," Mitch said and Jim agreed. You didn't crap on the tech guys. They may be support in the world of the Stafford PD, but they had lots of things that they could do to make you regret it if they chose to. "Probably will, but even at low priority they should have had something for us by now," Jim said, "until I go over whatever it is they managed to dig up, I can't close this out." "Clayton's not going to like that," Mitch reminded him. "You know how hot she is to see the end of this mess." "As long as I hand in the report she wants to see, I don't think she'll make too much of an issue out of it," Jim answered. "Besides it's not like we have anything else beating down our doors after that is complete anyway." Mitch shook his head in disgust. "There's got to be some kind of way around that whole prohibition of us working on non-FRT connected cases," he said. "Were you able to change her mind about us being involved with that overview she said she was having done with the other cases?" "What do you think?" Jim said his nose wrinkling up in disgust at the situation. "That good huh?" Mitch said bleakly. "Yep, but I'm going to ask around anyway. Whoever she has doing that will probably be more open to a little under the table assistance; especially if they can claim all of the credit for it." "Who do you think she has running it?" Mitch asked curious about who it might be. He'd kept an eye out as well to see who it might have been that got handed this wheelbarrow of extra work and so far he hadn't been able to determine who it was. "Probably Krevsky, I'll make some time to see what I can get out of him once I have this nailed down," Jim said turning back to completing his report. Detective Sergeant Egan Krevsky was Clayton's unofficial second in command. Officially it was supposed to be Detective Sergeant Stratton, but Krevsky was the one she relied on more often. Especially whenever there was some reason that she couldn't be there. With her involved so deeply in the advisory council the last few weeks she would naturally turn to Krevsky to keep things on an even keel. When Jim ran down the mental list of people that she would likely trust with running a case overview like this. Something with the possibility of making connections along the line of what Jim had suggested, then there was only one person that he thought she would reach out to so that it would play out the way she wanted it to. And Krevsky was at the head of a very short list. She trusted him and there was no surprise factor there; the two of them had been tight since they were partnered together before she made lieutenant. The problem was that Krevsky was a prickly closemouthed asshole when he felt like it. And with his dour pessimistic viewpoint he wasn't to likely to let much drop that Jim was likely to find use for when it came to finding out what she had set him to find. Krevsky might be a pain to be around outside of the department, but that was something that most people were willing to overlook inside it. He was a good detective and that was all that mattered. The tricky part of doing this for Jim was finding a way to pump him for information without triggering his bullshit detector and causing him to clam up. The whole wall that faced the row of offices on that side of the central room had a sad looking row of ugly fichus in big pots for decoration. That was a leftover relic of some program the department had run a couple years before in an effort to create a more livable work atmosphere. Privately Jim thought it was a huge waste of time. A few plants didn't make any difference in how well they did their jobs in his opinion and anyway support for it had petered out not long afterward. He forgot what the reason was that they gave for dropping the program but it was likely budget cuts. Things like that tended to go on the chopping block first when some higher up wanted to find some tangible way of demonstrating that they were on top of preventing waste when it came to financial matters. The program that put the row of ugly fichus may be long dead but the same couldn't be said for the chest high plants with the broad flat waxy green leaves. They seemed to be doing fine even if, when you looked at them there was a regular coating of dust that feathered down from the overhead ceiling to settle on the plants. Jim stepped up to the half open door and rapped on the frosted glass of the door panel inscribed with Krevsky's name and rank in oversized block lettering. His office was situated midway in the row of offices that lined the part of the building that looked out over the narrow side street that flanked the precinct building. Hardly any natural light ever made it into the cluttered office Krevsky squatted in. If the fichus that was outside of his office door had been in the office instead, Jim wouldn't have been surprised to see that it was dead. Good thing they hadn't gotten around to doing something like that Jim thought to himself. "And if Krevsky isn't taking point on it?" Mitch asked him when he finally got up to see what he could get out of Krevsky and if he wasn't in the loop or wasn't in a mood to bring the two of them into this then there was only thing that Jim could think to do in that case. "I'll just have to see who is," Jim replied to Mitch. "There's not many that she would be willing to bring in on something like this though so it won't take long to go down that list," Jim said striking through a line of his report and writing a correction in the margins before he rose to see what he could dig up about this review that Clayton was apparently overseeing. "You're probably right about that," Mitch said turning back to his own paperwork. "Good luck you'll probably need it." The sad thing was that Mitch was probably underselling it Jim thought as he focused on what was the best way to approach Krevsky without throwing fuel on his low simmering temper. -------------------------------------- Krevsky looked up at him at the sound of his rapping. His face actually got even stormier when he saw whom it was that had disturbed him. It was pretty obvious that he wasn't that pleased to see Jim in his doorway and as he approached it was plain that his lip already was starting to sour as he glared at Jim for disturbing him. "Aren't you on some kind of vacation Brighton?" he asked in a cold tone. "Medical leave," Jim said, "just cleared to return to duty a couple of days ago." "Well isn't that nice," Krevsky said barely keeping the sarcasm out of his tone. "And this involves me how?" he asked. "I'm clearing the Barnes and Phillips cases today," he said. "Is that so?" Krevsky said. "Congratulations. Took you long enough." "Yeah, guess it did at that," Jim agreed feeling sour bile rising in his throat. Part of the reason for that was that Krevsky knew just as well as he did what was involved in cases of this type. Sure there were some that you could clear in the time frame that Jim had functioned under since both cases were handed to him and Mitch; but there were just as many that took far longer to clear. And even more that just went cold and the file ended up gathering dust in a police records office. If cases like that were lucky they would have someone who wouldn't quit and they kept after it anyway. Some of those even got solved, but most didn't. "Look Mitch and I are clear as soon as we hand these in. Clayton is telling us that she can't hand us anything because of this whole FRT situation, so we're both kind of hanging in the breeze right now. Clayton may not be able to hand us anything officially, but there's no reason that either of us can see that would justify us not pitching in with some of the other outstanding cases. Clayton mentioned that she was taking another look at possible links between multiple disappearances. That's a lot to put on whoever she handed that to," Jim said. "And your point is?" Krevsky said dryly. "I just thought we could help is all. So I'm making the offer. Go ahead and use us both. We can backstop whoever she put on this and a couple more eyes won't hurt. That's all I'm saying," Jim said watching him as he answered. He and Krevsky didn't get along that well but that was personal and this was professional. They'd been able to work together on that basis before and to Jim's way of thinking there was no reason to change that. "You want to help? Then go get me some coffee," Krevsky finally said. "I don't know what you're talking about when you say reexamining links between cases. Clayton rearranged the case load three weeks ago. Handed me most of the runaways. Now I got a lot of work to do here so unless you're going to get me that coffee you should probably turn around and let me get to it." Jim didn't bother to say anything when he turned back to the case file and started working on it. As he started to walk out he heard Krevsky talking to him as he left. "One cream, three sugars. Wouldn't want to cause you any strain, you being on light duty the way you are." Jim ignored him and kept walking. He could get his own damned coffee. As for what he said Jim supposed that it made sense that Clayton would have rebalanced everyone's case load the way that Krevsky had mentioned. When she dropped the Barnes case and then the Phillips case immediately after that in his and Mitch's laps, she had pulled them off of what they were on before. Those cases had to go to someone and it stood to reason that now being short two detectives that some had more than others on their plates. When it was obvious that when Clayton knew that neither of them would be coming back for an undetermined time, it also made sense to shuffle what was there around so that they weren't stretched too thin in Jim and Mitch's absence. He supposed that it even made some degree of sense that Krevsky had ended up with the juvenile cases. But that meant that someone was working the ones that involved young men in the target group. And whoever it was, that was probably also who she had looking for links between them. Robinson was his next likely candidate. The problem with that was that he knew that Robinson wasn't here right now. He had left over an hour before and Jim had no idea when he would be back. Asking him would have to wait. Until then he reviewed his mental list and looked around for his next most likely candidate. Maybe Robinson would probably be able to tell him more when he got back from wherever he was. But until then, there were enough people here still for him to ask around. One of them had to know something and at least when he asked them he wouldn't have to deal with the kind of hostility that Krevsky had shown him. Jim took a quick look around and saw who he should talk to next. He started walking over to him. --------------------------------- Area Command and Control: Day 30, 2100 hours Singh reached into the room and flicked on the light switch as he entered. The dark room was washed in buzzing florescent lights a moment later. The lights flickered for an instant and then began emitting a steady light. The hum of the light overhead filled the room and in moments the sound faded. The three men ignored it as familiar background noise and ceased to notice its humming almost from the moment it began. Singh walked across the room and settled in behind his borrowed desk. Once he had seated his bulk he gestured to the heavy chairs placed in front of it. "Be seated please gentleman," he said. "I think it is safe to say that we can most assuredly consider ourselves off duty at the moment." There was no objection from either of the two men to him saying that and there was no objection when Singh opened a deep drawer and lifted a small cut glass decanter and lined up three small whiskey tumblers on his desk. He removed the cork stopper and slowly poured a double finger worth of amber liquor into each of them before replacing the stopper and setting it onto the desk beside him. He nudged the glasses closer to the two men. "I think after today that I've earned this," he said quietly. "And you gentlemen get to share in my bounty." "What are we celebrating?" Jim asked. "Among other things, the fact that the advisory council and the Grove representatives have managed to come to several major points of agreement. Most of the larger issues seem to have been settled to an acceptable degree. And then there are things closer to home that are just as welcome to see." He lifted the glass in toast to them. "To your return gentlemen. You have been sorely missed in your absence. Jim didn't have any objection to either the liquor or the toast and from the way that Mitch took his as well clearly he didn't either. "So what was different about today?" he said to Singh as he sipped the whiskey. "What is this, scotch?" he asked after letting the smoky tasting liquid bite into him." "Single malt scotch," Singh said. "Twenty-five years old when I got it. It's somewhat older now since I do not partake daily of this particular libation." Mitch's face twitched while he drank. He didn't drink much and when he did Jim didn't think that scotch was his booze of choice." He coughed a bit as the alcohol bit him. "That's definitely an acquired taste," he said taking another slow respectful sip. "You'll get there eventually," Jim said to him. He didn't tweak his partner often, but he did pick his moments. Mitch cut his eyes at him. "We can't all grow up sipping shine now," he said digging back at Jim. Jim chuckled in response. His cousin had been the one to learn the ins and outs of making good moonshine before his grandfather had passed and every once in a while he slipped Jim a couple of mason jars to keep on the shelf. Mitch had asked him about that the first time he figured out what the hooch up on the shelf in the back of his cabinet was and Jim reminded him that as long as you were making it for your own use and not trying to sell it that it was still perfectly legal to make your own supply. Mitch's response was that was fine if you wanted to go blind and that was enough for Jim to insist that he take a thimble's worth so he would know better than to say such foolish things. Mitch had eyed the clear harsh smelling liquid with a jaundiced eye before tossing it down with an air of uncertain expectation. His eyes had opened wide after that and he couldn't stop himself from taking a sudden deep involuntary breath. "That's a lot smoother than I expected it to be," he admitted after the firebomb in his gut went off and settled down. "Good shine always is," Jim told him. "And Cousin Sam learned to make good shine." Singh had said something while Jim was thinking about that little drinking experiment and Jim hadn't heard what he said. He excused himself and asked that he repeat it. "I'm sorry what did you say?" he asked slightly embarrassed that his reveries had distracted him while Singh was speaking. "I said that I visited the Grove several days ago. Cecil Barnes is no more," he said. Jim sat up straight and looked at Singh. If something had happened to Barnes then things were about to get bad on some deep level he didn't want to contemplate. "What happened?" he asked. "Nothing bad detective Brighton, far from it. Cecil Barnes has taken the name Selicia and she has named her Grove as well." Mitch took a slow respectful drink of his scotch before venturing to speak. "And what is the name of this newest addition to Stafford?" he asked. "Phar' Naqua," Singh said. "We would translate that as Heart of Vigilance." The two detectives didn't say anything in response. Jim took another slow sip and placed the glass down on the desk where he could pick it up again easily if that was his intention. "That seems a lot more grandiose than what I would think that Barnes, excuse me, Selicia would choose," he said. "The name is chosen according to the dryad nature that is guiding her," Singh said. "Though I think that M'Tehr may have had some small influence in its direction." "Arath' Mahar Selicia of Phar' Naqua," Mitch said slowly. "Looks like Cecil Barnes has come quite a way from being a programmer who liked antiquing." "Indeed she has," Singh said. "That is not the only change that I observed during my meeting with her though. She has seated her sister in her Phar' Ador since the last time we saw her and she has chosen a Grove mark. It was blazoned on the king elm where she makes her home and it is etched out in her flesh where anyone who sees her will see it clearly if they know what they are looking for." "She's been busy," Mitch said taking another slow drink. "What does the mark look like?" "A variation of the rose tattoo that was on her right wrist. That tattoo is now absent though. I suspect that when she created the mark she chose to use it for her own reasons and however it was formed initially, it moved and changed to take its present form and location. I can only describe it as a rose devouring shadows or at least that is what it suggested to me when I saw it." "Makes sense I suppose," Jim said. "So the name and the mark? What's the connection?" he asked. "I would assume it has much to do with her adversary," Singh said. "Wherever he is, whether he knows it or not. She has declared war on him." "That sounds pretty serious," Jim said. "According to what you just told us not that long ago we barely avoided a war and now from what you're saying here we may not have dodged that particular bullet after all." "It is serious detective Brighton," Singh said, "But the two instances are not mutual. Before we were verging on involving entire races in a mutual suicide pact. This is something between individuals, although it may prove just as deadly to the ones caught in the waging of it." "There's not much chance of backing her down over this is there?" Mitch asked. "Because this may be more like a gang war than a world war, but that's not going to be much comfort for those who get hit by the crossfire. Even small fights spill over to bystanders, they always do. We all know it's going to happen if that is what's in the wind." "What about it Singh? Jim asked. "Do you think you can get her to back off a little, at least until we know what it is that she's so hot to go after? "That is what I was speaking about with her when we met. She has agreed to let me take the lead in finding whom it is that she seeks, although that decision was influenced by others that I can't go into just now. You should know though that when I saw her that she is very different from how she was when we met with her before." "She is, if anything, more herself now and the woman I spoke with is filled with a determination that would be ignored by us at our peril. She has a purpose now and she will move heaven and earth to fulfil it. That she did not do so before now I can only attribute to the fact that she was carrying her sister within of her. That is no longer the case and we will need to exert ourselves to the full measure in the days ahead of us and even then we can only hope that it will be sufficient," he answered. "It's that serious then?" Jim asked setting his glass of scotch on the small table between the chairs that he and Mitch occupied. "It is," Singh said directly and that by itself told Jim something about the depths of just how serious the situation that developed while they were recovering had become. "There was a great deal that has changed about her in these last few weeks gentlemen. Just what has spawned those changes I don't know, I may never know in fact, but they are there nevertheless," he said looking into the amber of his scotch. "What kind of changes" Jim asked seriously. "I'm thinking this is something we should be really concerned about." "Detective Brighton there is almost nothing about this situation that is of lesser or greater concern where the Arath' Mahar and her intentions are concerned. But we need to know more than we do. That much is plain. It is clear that for her own reasons that Arath' Mahar Selicia has made more changes recently than just taking a name for herself and her home." "She has recast a blemish of unknown origin into a design that now serves as her Grove's Sigel. Fae, even recently created ones like her, do not make such choices at random. It's not in their nature. There is purpose in her choices and for all our sakes we should divine what it is driving that purpose sooner rather than later." "Probably a good thing she did that," Mitch said. "Changing the tattoo that is. If she had kept that the way she did, someone who didn't know any better might think she was one of Fetterman's girls. He took another sip of his drink and put the glass on the table beside him. "Or at least they might if it was on the other wrist anyway." He might have said more on that topic but he didn't get the chance to. Jim was looking around the room while he was speaking and in doing so he noticed something that he hadn't seen when they first entered. A long tubular bundle that rested in the corner and looked as if it were webbed to the wall to keep it from moving too far to the right or the left. "What is that Singh?" he asked curious now that he saw it. "I've never seen anything like that before." "It's Pantra," he said quietly in response. "She was released from ICU not long ago. There is nothing more for her that they can do. Once her healing cocoon stabilized, all they could do from that point was to monitor her until she cuts her way out if it. I was informed that she was in the deepest level of her trance a few days ago and there was no more that they could do for her until she emerges." "So you brought her here?" Jim asked. "Can you think of a safer location than a building that not only has many people familiar with the nature of the Fae, but is also in the centre of what amounts to a small army? An army that can get in touch with not only me but any other who might be needed?" "But doesn't she need to be monitored?" Jim asked. "She is monitored," he said, "Agent Fitzhugh makes certain that there are eyes on her at all times, but as I said while she is like this, all they can do is keep watch on her and in her condition that is something that can be done as easily here as it is done in hospital." "Any idea when she'll come out?" Mitch asked. "Cause when she does if I don't at least give her a bottle of whatever it is that she favours, if Andrea doesn't kick me up one side of the wall and down the other, I'd have to do it to myself. We owe her. We owe her big time." "We do indeed, detective Travers. We do indeed," Singh said taking another sip of his scotch. "The only answer I can give you is the one that was given to me though and that is that she will emerge when she is ready." "The two men leaned back in their chairs. If there was one thing that both of them understood it was the limitations they all faced when circumstances dictated what was to be rather than what they wished it to be. "There is also news of Hank Phillips," he said and saw the both of them immediately focus on him with greater intensity. The entire incident with Phillips had taken place in their absence and this was the first that they were hearing of it. "You will both be relieved to hear that the doctors with the CDC have concluded that his condition is a result of what he personally experienced and is not any form of disease that we will need to worry about." "That's good to hear," Jim said. "We have enough to deal with at the moment without throwing that into the mix. So he did recover then? Is he in a condition to speak? Clayton made it pretty clear that our first order of business now that we're back is to close out both cases since we have located both missing persons." Singh wasn't surprised that Clayton would feel that way. After all both cases were on her doorstep and unlike a similar case that she could re- assign, it was out of her hands at the moment. The FRT protocol had seconded both of these men to their command structure as well as absorbing any relevant cases. As much as Clayton might desire to clear the books on a pair of closed cases, she didn't have the authority to do so; but as the involved personnel Brighton and Travers could. Singh took another slow sip of his drink. This next part was going to be difficult and he hoped that he could explain it in an effective way to the two men. He only felt that way for a moment though. Reluctance to tell them this didn't make much sense really. Considering what the three of them had shared over the last few weeks sharing the necessary information about what had taken place in their absence was something that he should be more willing to do; at least with them anyway. Unlike the case with others that he had to keep at arm's length, there was at least no need for him to be as private with these two as he customarily was. The habits of a lifetime he thought to himself. "Mr. Phillips is no longer at Mercy General. Almost two weeks ago he was returned to the Grove." "What in God's name happened Singh? Why was that even necessary after we went through what we did to get him out of the Grove in the first place?" Mitch said to him. "Detective Travers, right now there is no idea that adequately explains just what it is that has happened to Mr. Phillips. The cause of which is of great concern not only for my department, but also for the Grove network as well. At the moment we're all operating under the idea that Selicia's attentions in the aether drained him too much for his body to take. That once drained, his essence reached out for the only thing available for him to maintain his existence." "And what would that be then?" Mitch asked. From the tone of his words Singh thought he heard both confusion and resignation, but he couldn't know the character of what Singh was going to say to him yet. Perhaps it was a natural cynicism that was fuelling Mitch's grim outlook. "From what we can tell it seems that since there was as only fae energy around him to make up the loss as a result he may have taken too much of that into himself and started an irrevokable chain reaction. Before we relocated him, I spoke with Dr. Mercer, the fae specialist with the CDC. He told me that Hank Phillips possessed an extremely high level of aethereal energy centred in his person." "Are you suggesting that because of this that Phillips is going to become some sort of Fae himself?" Mitch asked. "Yes, detective Travers, That is exactly what has happened. In fact given what we understand about the situation, it is clear that when Hank Phillips was returned to the Grove, he was already well on his way to following the Arath' Mahar and like her, he will in time become a dryad as well, if he has not already done so." "That doesn't make any sense," Mitch said. "I thought that dryads didn't make little dryads like that. What changed?" "Detective Travers, the knowledge that Hank Phillips will likely join Cecil Barnes as a dryad of this Grove is of monumental concern for us. To have one human follow the path that Selicia already has was almost unbelievable, now that another has been affected in a dissimilar fashion it is of even greater concern for us. Fae simply do not change who they are in this manner. Their pattern is something that the aether has more influence over than any one individual could, even one like Arath' Mahar Selicia." "But it is possible though?" Mitch asked. "After all this is magic that we are dealing with. How do we know that it suddenly isn't possible for them to add to their numbers in this way? How can you be sure that there is only one proper way for creatures that draw direction on magic itself to live? How do you know that they only have one way to do something like this?" He had a good point Singh admitted to himself, but he didn't know just what it was that he was suggesting. "Detective Travers," Singh began, "We can be sure of this because the fae are bound in their own way to follow their pattern even more so than we are bound to our own genetic makeup. Now it is true that in the past there were a few, a very few, breeds of Fae that could do something similar to what it is that you just suggested, but it is not likely that they could be involved. Those breeds of fae were a menace and thankfully they are all extinct now." "Are you certain of that?" Mitch asked. "Yes, Detective Travers, I can reasonably say that I am certain of that. When I said those breeds of fae are extinct it wasn't just that they fell victim to the Withering that wiped out so many other fae species. I say they are extinct because humanity joined with the surviving members of the fae to deliberately wipe them out." "They must have been some nasty customers then," Mitch said. "From what you've told us fae and humans have only been friendly like this for a relatively short time, geologically speaking." "True and true again, detective Travers," Singh answered. "The truth is that the extermination of those dangerous breeds of fae was the only thing that could overcome the distrust the rest of them harboured toward humanity. Banding together to stand against a common threat forged the first crucial links that led to what eventually became the Concord. It's true that it was forged with the noblest of goals, but the trust that was needed to be cultivated to meet those lofty ideals was watered with the blood of some of the most dangerous fae to ever threaten all of our races." "But are you sure they are gone?" Mitch asked. "After all Selicia came out of nowhere and from what you are saying the forces that made that possible are only getting stronger. How can we be sure that those extinct breeds of fae won't return? After all they had to come from somewhere in the first place. That means that there is a pattern for them already in this aether that you are telling us about. And if the pattern is there, how can we be sure that something else isn't able to trigger it to bring these dangerous extinct fae back?" Singh obviously didn't like considering what Mitch was saying. But Jim could tell that he was a realist and that meant that Mitch's argument was being heard with serious consideration for what it could mean. "If you have any belief in a higher power detective Travers, then I would suggest that you pray very strongly that such a thing not come to pass," Singh said. "Such an outcome would come as close to a nightmare scenario such as you could not believe. It is one of the few circumstances that are viewed as justification enough for the FRT to make the knowledge of the fae presence in our world public before we plan to." "So how is it possible then that Hank Phillips has also become the same kind of creature that Barnes has become?" Mitch asked. "In truth, detective Travers, Mr. Phillips is not becoming the same kind of fae that Barnes became. It may be likely that he will shift into a Fae pattern now because of what he experienced, but it would not be the same pattern that Barnes fell into. The circumstances of their respective reactions to the aether are very different." "But she was the one that took him," Mitch insisted. "The pattern she set must have had a particularly strong resonance while he was her captive and I don't think its influence should be discounted." Singh leaned back in his chair and took another sip of the scotch. "We are not discounting that influence. Not the FRT and not the Grove. The truth is that even though Selicia was actively setting a Fae pattern in motion nearby, he is more likely to become a lesser version of the pattern she has set in motion rather than becoming a wild card as far as changing into some breed of Fae is concerned. And when it became apparent that she was likely responsible for his changes he was returned to the Grove so that they would be able to guide his change since it had already become inevitable." Mitch looked into the amber of his glass. "If I didn't know better that sounds like some kind of vampire rather than a dryad," he said. Jim looked over at his partner. "It does look like that doesn't it? I mean if that is what triggered it then it makes some kind of sense in its own way. Selicia is attacked and changed, she attacks someone else and they change. Sounds an awful lot like a vampire to me." "There were vampiric beings gentlemen," Singh said carefully, "but in reality, they were not like what the two of you are suggesting here. They were much worse. I think it is safe to say that neither Selicia nor Phillips is likely to become a Fae like one of those breeds." Mitch was clearly starting to feel the scotch and Jim wasn't that far behind him. Usually when either of them drank it was under different circumstances. This time the alcohol was making them both more willing to ask such questions of Singh. "Detective's you were as privy to Selicia's origin as I am. In that regard you know as much as I do," he said. "No I don't," Mitch said. "All I know is what I saw when she did what she did to us. I haven't the slightest clue as to why she becomes a dryad Singh." "Detective, what you say is completely true. I'm sorry, our shared familiarity with the events of the last few weeks has led me to project knowledge that you do not possess onto you. Perhaps I should share a bit of what it is that I know then to help bring the both of you up to speed?" "If it will help me do my job under these conditions, then by all means go ahead. I have no inclination to be killed because I am too ignorant to recognize a threat when it walks up and says hello," Mitch answered. "Then I'll start with what it is that we both already know then," Singh said, "I cannot be entirely certain, since this just my own speculation, mind you. But from what we witnessed in the Arath' Mahar's mind it may well be that her own collapse after battling this dark man may have much to do with that outcome." Jim had no idea why that should be and remained silent so that Singh would explore it further. He couldn't help glancing over at the corner of the room where Pantra's silver thread cocoon rested, webbed securely in a shallow alcove. From where he was sitting it was easy to do so without making it obvious that was what he was doing. There was no change in her condition that he could see. The tapering enclosure sat silent and there was no change that he could discern now from the last time when he was in the ICU. He silently wished her well and turned his attention back to Singh as he continued speaking "In a way what she showed us in her vision has confirmed something that we have long believed, but had no evidence for until now. That all races of Fae have at their earliest beginnings, a human ancestor. Those who study the Fae have long maintained that men evolved first as a sapient species and that when we came into being, we alone were the first sentient race. Our ability to use magic when it was strong may indeed have had a hand in developing our very sapience itself. We were alone, but we did not remain so. Origination theory speculates that it was the race of men that spawned all of the Fae, in all of their forms." "And you believe this theory?" Mitch asked. "Before our experience with Arath' Mahar Selicia gave me tangible evidence I would have said it was the most likely cause; but now I am utterly convinced of its veracity. As we saw with Selicia detective, a Fae breed can come from a human origin and as her condition reached out to ensnare Hank Phillips this then is not an isolated incident. I am now more certain than ever that if you could reach down far enough into their line, that each Fae familial line always would begin in that fashion." Singh paused a moment to light a cigarette and as he put down the lighter his eyes lit on Pantra's cocoon. "Pantra would have loved having this conversation you know," he said. "She always maintained that somewhere at the bottom of the pile was always a human that had enough power to tap into the aether in a powerful fashion and somehow, in some way, they went too far and found themselves trapped and unable to return to what they had been before. She maintained that many of the Fae breeds that we know of are simply the results of someone going too far and becoming trapped in a web of their own bad decisions." This time Mitch turned to look in Pantra's direction. He didn't say anything though and Singh continue speaking. "I tended to agree with her in this regard even before we met with Arath' Mahar Selicia. It just made sense that some of the Fae were created by one person's curiosity and others by their need, but that all of them had to begin with one person with the power to do so making an irrevocable choice. The aether has rules and as Selicia demonstrated to us, those rules can be bent. But once bent the rules still function as well as binding those brought under their sway. Whatever she was doing while she was in that state she was not just acting on the aether, the aether was acting on her as well." "I'm not sure that I know what you mean by acting on, Singh" Jim said. This was getting into areas where his frame of reference was not even theoretical and he didn't want to get lost in the unfamiliar. Especially when it had such bearing on them as it did now. "Detective Brighton, there is really no difference between these natural laws and the ones that you are familiar with. In the physical world; gravity, thermodynamics and all of the factors that we understand through science influence us every moment and it is no different in the aether. If anything the rules there are easier to comprehend once you are aware of them. What holds sway in this plane holds sway there. It's just that they can be more easily influenced by one with sufficient power in that plane." "How can that be?" Mitch asked. "I would think that those rules would be just as difficult to break in either place," he said. "When you enter the aether you are in a state of flux detective Travers. By its nature, it can be no other way and so it was with Arath' Mahar Selicia when she was still Cecil Barnes. She was changing what was around her from the first time that she entered the aether. First in small ways and later in much more powerful ones. She may have dismissed the idea that she was a sorcerer when she met this dark man, but that is exactly the path that she was on, albeit in ignorance. When the nature of what she was doing changed, that also changed how the aether fit her into its framework." "Framework?" Mitch asked."I'm not quite getting what it is that you mean by that." "In either realm we are bound by rules that we cannot see and at the same time pay little attention to. I do not have to think of the laws of Newton to drive a car, yet they are in force while I do so. If I board an airplane, the laws of aerodynamics dictate what happens and what can happen, but I am not as aware of their influence even so. It is the same case with what happened here to Selicia when she was created out of Cecil Barnes." Singh flicked the long tube of ash that hung off of his cigarette into the ash tray, took a final drag from it and then crushed it out before continuing. "Think of some of the things that she related to us that she did after she met this dark man. She merged with the life essence of a tree, she traveled along their network, she communed with the one she merged with and she commanded them in attack against an invader. These were things that dryads do. The pattern for her change was already being set even if she was not aware that she was setting it even so." "In addition to that, was what had occurred before she did any of these things? She was completely female with no trace of animus in her due to the dark man's attack on her; as dryads are. They are the feminine as the Satyr's are the masculine in balance with them. She channeled the life of the aether into the tree, which is also what dryads do as part of their place in the natural order and the most important thing in my opinion; she was still linked with the tree when her mind was no longer in control." "Why is that important?" Jim asked. "I think it was then, when her mind shattered, that there was left only what she had done as a guide to the aether for integrating her into itself and those actions told it that she was a dryad. She was already far along her way to becoming full Fae before this, else her own ward would not have affected her and the other things we saw that were Fae characteristics would not have manifested." "Once on the path to becoming a nymph and without a functioning mind to keep the changes in check she was converted rapidly into the original dryad pattern while she slept. When her mind regained conscience all that was there to guide her was the natural instincts of a dryad and that is what she acted on Detective." "Being alone with only a fragment of her mind still remotely sane to keep her company she submerged herself into her own dryad nature. The channel was cut too deeply within her to do anything else and that was the path that she followed. When Hank Phillips passed through the woods taking his shortcut home as he did in the evening she sensed him nearby. She stalked him and captured him, and being the sole focus of her attention she nearly drained every part of him in her madness." "Phillips in turn was also cast into the aether and in his own vulnerable state he reached out in his own effort to survive and took into himself the seeds of may have been his own undoing. The influence of what was around him is shaping him now and it as we are seeing may be as irrevocable in its own way as what happened to Barnes himself." "That makes some kind of sense I suppose," Mitch said. "But what I don't get is how different Barnes is from M'Tehr. Barnes, well Selicia now I guess, she looks like a human woman even though she isn't. And you tell us that she is a dryad. Okay I can believe that since she has made pretty clear what she is. But if she is supposed to be a dryad why does she look like a human woman? M'Tehr looks like a wooden carving compared to her." "M'Tehr is the product of centuries of deviation from her ancestress's form. Her line has adapted over time, shedding human traits they didn't need as they diverged. But don't look at how M'Tehr is when you see her in her natural form and think that is all there is to her. If she offered you the chance to spend a night and a day with her, she would change what she needs to change to meet that need and you would never know the difference," As he spoke there was wistfulness about his words that Jim was hesitant to intrude on. "Selicia's line will eventually look little different from M'Tehr's I think. The main difference between these two dryad families is time and origin. The thing is that, based on what we have seen, Barnes may have ended up as some form of Fae regardless of what was or was not done to him," Singh said taking another drink. "How do you mean?" Jim asked "If it hadn't been for what happened I'm not sure that I agree with that assessment." "But he was already dangerously close to doing so if you think about it," Singh pointed out. "Had she not been diverted onto this path she may have indeed eventually become a form of angelic Fae," Singh said. Jim didn't know what to say to that. He had seen what Barnes had done in the vision and what he had made himself into, even if it was just for a short time, it sure looked like an angel to him. Who was to say that it wouldn't have turned out just as Singh was suggesting it might? "Surely just making a set of wings like she did wouldn't have done that by itself," Mitch said. The possibility that they might have had to deal with the sudden appearance of an angel in the flesh rather than a dryad was disconcerting. He came from a religious family and the idea that that part of his religious belief may rest on a Fae foundation was something that he discovered bothered him to consider. "She may well have done so detective Travers. In all likelihood Cecil Barnes would have maintained his masculinity as he developed into that breed, but that was not ordained. It was just a possibility and since until her encounter with this dark man, that is what the path she was embarking on inclined toward, it would have led her toward that end sooner or later. In all likelihood she would have continued to bend rules and they would give as her power and as her ability increased. They would give until she made that one irrevocable choice and then they would bend no further, and the aether would spring shut leaving her held fast by them; locked in the pattern that she made with her own decisions." "If she had been interested in it she may have ended up a centaur or perhaps a Mer just as easily. Each of the mythical races, as I said are thought to share a common human origin." "And is that why you want to keep them hidden? To prevent accidents like that? Jim said feeling a scrap of understanding fall into place. "If that were the sole focus of our efforts I would have an easier time of it detective. That part is unfortunately a very small concern for us. The biggest concern is that magic is strong enough to strengthen the Fae races, but not strong enough to be used by the general population. Too many, too soon would deplete the reservoir and that would also trigger a war between our races." "If men were to access magical energies on a widespread scale too early the Fae would have to strike against us out of self preservation alone. It was decided that it was better to lift the veil slowly as it increased. As the ambient magical energy slowly increases to a sustainable level, more and more steps are to be taken to do this. The lifting of the prohibition on black lotus was part of this procession. We are in need of sorcerers as well as knowledge of common magic, if we are to coexist with the Fae as equals. And right now with the increase that magic is undergoing that is something that we are rapidly losing parity with." "Are you suggesting that the FRT had a hand in passing the referendum last year?" Mitch asked. "Detective Travers, based on what you already know I will trust that you will keep that information to yourself until it no longer needs to be concealed; but as for the referendum itself," Singh paused a moment and then continued. "The referendum last year passed on its own merits with no assistance from the FRT... as it passed each time it came onto the ballot over the last thirty years." "You mean they were right?" Mitch said. "That the count was misreported each time to keep it illegal? Shit there's a dozen conspiracy theories about that little gem that what you just said would make them happy as all get out. They could scream they were right forever and a day over that." "I have nothing to do with that operation. Detective Travers," Singh said, "but yes, unfortunately that is quite correct." "For god's name why? What purpose would it serve to undermine that effort so long and then suddenly get out of the way?" he demanded. Singh looked uncomfortable having to discuss this. Jim was pretty certain that although he knew the reasons for what he had admitted to them were sound, he still didn't agree with them wholly in this instance. "Detective Travers think for a moment what has happened since the ban was lifted and no longer a focus of police interest," he said. "Other than this thing with Barnes I can't say that there is any change that I have seen," Mitch answered. "But that's just it, detective Travers. You haven't seen any change; not yet," Singh lit another cigarette and inhaled and then blew smoke out to curl upward and join the cloud overhead. "You don't see the changes because right now those changes are moving under the surface; this is only the first of them that we are seeing manifest. What is happening from this point on is the fruit of what was planted when that ban was lifted. Magic was too weak until now to serve both our needs and the Fae's needs; but that is not going to be the case for long and when it does break over us and can no longer be concealed, as I said, we will need sorcerer's who can handle it and more importantly we would have to know who those sorcerers are." "So Barnes getting involved with lotus was deliberate then?" Mitch asked. "All part of this preparation that you said has been going on over the last century or so." "Yes," Singh said. "Although he found his way to involvement with black lotus on his own, the website that Barnes visited and others like it that he found in his research are monitored by my agency. Others are maintained by my agency. In some ways the widespread use of the internet was encouraged once it was no longer a DOD project, so that Barnes and people like him might be identified as they developed and could then be contacted." "And was he?" Mitch asked. "Was he contacted in some way? Was that part of why we were assigned to this case at all? To contact him?" "No," Singh said. "According to my inquiries, he was a high level subject of interest, but until just before he disappeared. He hadn't yet tripped over into the must contact priority. And since we are speaking of his involvement in this manner, I would suggest that you access the video logs of those web forums that he used when you close the Barnes case officially. I will arrange that you will of course have access to the records maintained by the agency." "That's a pretty big oversight," Mitch said, "From what we saw he was making rapid progress even before the end." "That was a mistake made by that part of the agency," he said. "Barnes should have been contacted as soon as he began reaching out for help in his group. That he is an indictment of my organization. We have erred on the side of caution for too long I fear." "It was an error alright. He should have been contacted, but he wasn't and now he is a she and not even human anymore," Mitch said. "That's a pretty big oversight." "In that detective Travers, you have my complete agreement, but that is not the area of concern for me here." "What is then?" Mitch asked. "Barnes and Phillips are accounted for. We know where they are and we know what happened to them. More so with Selicia than with Phillips, but neither of them are unknown factors at the moment. Everything that is a result of our search is only a part of this whole. What we do not understand is the why. And the why is the key to everything. So what is the why gentlemen?" "The dark man," Jim said. "I tried to get Clayton to sign off on expanding the investigation to include him, but she didn't think she could." "Yes, the dark man," Singh responded. "His presence is unexpected and more importantly, until now, unsuspected. The fact that there is a powerful unknown magic user out there already. One who is malevolent and for purposes unknown ambushed Barnes and set her feet on this path, is of more concern than all else we have uncovered. I'm sure that you have heard stories before of people being changed into other forms against their will for whatever reasons." "I know it's almost become a bad joke. Jim said. "My ex-wife went as a witch one Halloween and kept a rubber frog on her shoulder the whole time. She used one of my bass baits to do it. She hooked the shank of the hook through her dress and capped it with one of my safety sleeves to keep it from getting a taste of her shoulder. She spent the whole night telling everyone that it was me when they asked her about it. She said that I went too far and she used her natural witchiness to teach me a lesson." "What is now a joke was once far more and the truth is more serious than that. Those times are coming again to us and this dark man, whoever he is, is the proof of that," Singh said urgently. He looked down into the amber of his shot glass and took a slow sip of his scotch. "It takes a special breed of magician to bend others forms against their will. Not many who are conversant with the aethereal plane would be able to do so; not with the current state of magic. That one of them has this ability now is disturbing on many levels. If he were Fae I would be less concerned, but no Fae I am familiar with matches the image of what Selicia showed us." "So we need to find this dark man then," Mitch said. "We may not need to find him, he may find us," Singh said. "He may have to. We have become aware of him and that in all likelihood is something that he does not wish others to know. Especially in light of what we already know of his abilities and his actions." Jim felt the hair on the back of his neck stiffen. Having a perp come gunning for him wouldn't be a new experience, but having one who could do to him what he did to Barnes was. The unnatural aspect of that possible consequence was unnerving at best and he was pretty certain that Mitch liked the idea of it even less. He had Andrea to consider as well as his own welfare; she had made it plain to him before that she wanted him to give up being a cop and if she knew what they had just found out he didn't think Mitch would be able to tell her no this time. "So what do we do then?" he asked Singh. "We do what I told Arath' Mahar Selicia we will do. We find this dark man. We find him and we put him in her hands." "I want to ask you a question Singh," Jim said "When you were meeting with the council you said that Clayton told them that she had put someone on looking into if there was any relation between Barnes and other missing person's cases, right?" "Yes, that is what she said. Why do you ask?" "Well you know that I think that there might be more to this than just what's going on in Olympia. And I know that M'Tehr insists that there isn't a connection, but I thought I should ask around and see what whoever is working on this has managed to dig up. That maybe there is a possibility that there is a larger connection. The problem is that I haven't been able to find out who it is and that is starting to bother me." Singh leaned back into the soft leather of his chair. I think that would be an excellent idea that you continue that inquiry Detective Brighton. As a matter of fact since the two of you have returned to active service I think it is a good a time as any for you to do much more than that." "What do you have in mind?" Mitch asked clearly interested. "I think for the moment gentlemen that I should allow you time to settle the affairs that the good lieutenant has been pressing you most vigorously on, but after that has been settled, I do believe that I have something in mind that both of you would be interested in." "Hell, I'm interested now," Jim said, "I've been going stir crazy the whole time I was sidelined. You say you have something for us I want to hear about it." "All in good time," Singh answered, "First I need to make some arrangements and you need to settle your outstanding cases lest your efforts be divided. Shall we meet in my office in the fourth precinct in a couple of days then to plan a means of going forward?" Jim and Mitch both nodded in agreement. "In that case, gentlemen, I will bid you adieu. Look for me to call you in the next couple of days so we can meet." ----------------------------------- Fourth Precinct: Day 33, 1055 hours "I just don't understand how something like this could happen," Jim said to Singh as the big man leaned back in the leather office chair with a worried expression. The two of them were sitting in the chairs that were placed opposite with the heavy desk separating them. This also wasn't the first time that he had needed to repeat something from their conversation the other night. The combination of the informal nature of their conversation and the alcohol that accompanied it had combined to blot out large portions of all that they had discussed. "I agree with you detective Brighton," he said taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "Something like this is difficult to understand how it could be possible. Unfortunately from our standpoint that does not make it impossible," He leaned over and flicked the lengthening ash into the ashtray and leaned back to resume his former position. They had needed to wait for him to arrive for nearly two hours before he did. And when he did walk through the door he refused to speak until the three of them were safely ensconced in his office with the door closed and securely locked. "I know we're new at this knowing that magic is possible status," Mitch said, "But this seems a little too much to take. When we were talking about it the other day I put down most of what we were talking about as the booze speaking." "However it seems, detective Travers, take it we must. We have no alternative, but to react to things as they are and in the larger picture nothing has really changed." "How can you say that?" he asked. "For the simple reason that before this new development that we already have no choice, but to react to things as they are rather than as we wish them to be. All that has changed are the new details that we are required to adjust to, nothing more," Singh said. "It won't be that simple Singh," Jim said, "You know it won't. This happening to Phillips is going to have some kind of fallout. Particularly when it becomes known. There's going to be consequences." "Of that I am absolutely certain. And that is why I deemed it necessary for the two of you to know these details gentlemen," Singh said. "I have a particular role that the two of you are eminently suited for. I think it is time to take the two of you off of the shelf." Jim cut his eyes over to Mitch sitting next to him in the adjoining chair. He figured the moment that Singh had started telling them what had happened with Phillips the other night that this was the case. Singh was precise in his actions and when he was the one calling the shots he tended to think ahead accordingly. Jim would have hated to play chess with him. He usually thought four or five moves ahead when he was in the habit of playing. You had to if you wanted to be an effective player; but he had the sneaking suspicion that Singh was one of those players who thought ten or twenty moves ahead. He was just as aware as Jim was of how this development could rebound on the delicate nature of the negotiations over the Grove and how this might still wreck his efforts to ensure that those negotiations were successful and peaceful. Concealing it just wasn't enough of a solution. That might take care of the initial problem but all it really did was punt the problem down the line and if this was something that would spread beyond Phillips himself, then it would probably get worse just when they thought the danger was past. "What do you have in mind?" Jim asked settling into his chair. "What is needed gentlemen is for you both to resume your investigation rather than close it as Lt. Clayton has suggested," he said. "I'm afraid that is not an option anymore, I have to close both cases. Clayton didn't give us any leeway as far as that is concerned and there is nothing that I can point to that would justify ignoring a direct order," Jim said "And Clayton already knew days ago that we have as much information as we can reasonably point to and there wasn't that much left for us to resolve," Mitch added. "The only reason that she's let us drag this out this long is because of the case's involvement with the Grove and the FRT. If that wasn't the case she'd have handed it to someone else to nail down while we were on medical leave." "I think that is a mistake," Singh said. "There is much more to this than what department policy says there should be and I want to task the two of you to start pulling on threads to see what unravels." "Where do we start then?" Mitch asked. "We've already gone over both cases to a hair and there is nothing left to add to them with what we already know." "As I mentioned the other night there is still one thing we do not know. There is the why of it," Singh said. "We need to know the why before we end this investigation. The why is what everything else hinges on. The why answers for what purpose Arath' Mahar Selicia came to be. It is connected with what happened with Phillips now. And without knowing the why the door is left open and what comes through it afterward is a factor we cannot allow chance to dictate." "Ordinary requirements may have been satisfied as far as the department is concerned, but these are not ordinary circumstances. The why needs to be rooted out and to do that I need you to expand this investigation beyond those ordinary requirements." "How can we do that?" Mitch asked. "The last few days has pretty much let us nail down almost everything to do with both of these cases. So what is it you want us to specifically do?" "I need you to search for this shadowy man," Singh said. "His presence gives us the why of this whole thing and there is another factor to consider as well." "What is that?" Jim asked. "Arath' Mahar Selicia is already looking for him. She will turn this city upside down to find him if she needs to do so and that we cannot allow to happen." "How do you propose to stop her?" Jim said. "I'm not going to stop her," he answered. "I'm going to co-opt her. As long as I can point to our own efforts to uncover who and what he is she will be restrained in her methods. She will cooperate with us. We will be allies. And she will allow us the room we need to seek the why." "Why us in particular?" Mitch asked. "Other than the obvious reasons?" "Arath' Mahar Selicia is aware that you both have intimate knowledge of what drives her. With the two of you involved she will feel less urgency to take matters fully into her own hands prematurely. Even if that were not the case the two of you would be the ones I would choose for this regardless." Singh raised his hand and started ticking off reasons on his fingers. "Because of your current status neither of you have any other demands that are placed on you by the Stafford police department. You have no conflict with other cases and so can focus your efforts fully on this investigation. You are already the investigators of record on these two cases and continuing this investigation in this manner is within your authority. Clayton may have insisted that you end the inquiry, but by virtue of my involvement you are not bound to do so. This gives you freedom to pursue related areas of interest. You may be seconded to the FRT at present, but there is a difference in your connection to them as opposed to my own." "I cannot pursue this angle of investigation as the two of you can. My efforts would be divided and my lack of full attention because of those divisions make me a poor choice for this task. That is not the case with you. Moreover should you find yourself with something tangible I will be able to fully support you in ways that the Stafford police department would be unable to do so. Gentlemen I am in effect taking whatever leashes you have holding you back off of your necks so you may roam freely. I need for you to be the detectives this situation requires." Jim felt a quickening in his pulse. It wasn't often that he had gotten as clear a directive as they had just gotten and to tell the truth he wasn't ready to bury this case just yet anyway. "And we have full discretion?" he asked, "We can take this wherever it goes to?" "You have full discretion," Singh said, "Now is there anything that you can point to right this moment? Something that would give us a hint of where you should pursue this mandate?" "There is one thing I can think of," Mitch said. Singh asked him what it was and Mitch immediately brought up the strange Jane Doe's that they had encountered in the morgue. "Yes, you mentioned those cases before passing that information to me," Singh said. "Are you thinking there may be some sort of connection with what we know already?" "That's the thing," Mitch said, "I don't know. All I know is they are damned strange and since this whole show revolves around strange I think that makes it likely that there might be something there. Maybe there is and maybe there isn't. Either way I'm thinking that it needs looking into." "I'd like to see the complete files that you were given detective Travers. I have little enough time as it is, but I may see something that you may overlook," he said. "I'll get you a full copy when we finish then," Mitch said. Singh nodded his head in acknowledgement and turned to Jim. "Is there anything that you think warrants our interest detective Brighton?" "I'm kind of in the same boat as Mitch," he said, "I have something that doesn't add up, but it doesn't look yet like it might be important or not. It's just something out of place." "And what would that be?" Singh asked. "This investigation that Clayton said she ordered into possible connections with other cases. I keep coming back to it in my mind." "What of it?" Singh asked. "There isn't one or at least not one that I can find. When you mentioned that she had told the council that she was having that put together I went looking for who was running it. I thought Krevsky was likely who she would hand it to since he's the section's number two. With her all tangled up in this advisory council, he's already the one handling the day to day operations." "Are you certain of this?" Singh asked. "Positive. Krevsky is who I would choose if I were in her shoes. I don't like him personally. He's a pain in the ass, but he's a detail man. A good investigator and he would be able to handle keeping the department on task with everything else and get the ball moving on this as well. The problem is that he had no idea what I was talking about." "And he told you this?" Singh said taking a slow drag from his cigarette and slowly expelling the smoke to linger in the cloud gathering overhead. "I dropped in on him to see if I could give him a hand with it. Since the two of us were where we are with Barnes and Phillips I thought I could give an assist. But like I said he hadn't heard anything about anyone doing another look-see for connections between the cases. At first I thought I just had the wrong guy, but when I asked other likely choices no one else knew anything either." "And you're certain of this?" Singh asked. "As much as I can be. After I talked to Krevsky I made the rounds of other likely candidates in an unobtrusive a way as I could manage. No one is doing anything of the kind as far as tying what we have together to see if what happened to Barnes is relevant or not. Either she was just covering her ass in front of the council or she hasn't gotten it started yet or she's handling it personally and not telling anyone. And if I had to make a choice I'd say the last one is most likely." "Why do you say that?" Singh asked. "Because about three weeks ago, just before Mitch and I went on medical leave, she went through the whole department and reassigned the entire case load. Tore up everyone's progress in some ways. The whole department was thrown off stride and still hasn't got up to speed yet. The story she passed around was that with the two of us out of the loop she wanted to balance everyone else's load even if it was disruptive in the short term." "That sounds reasonable to a degree, unusual certainly but with the two of you unavailable it makes sense to shuffle everyone's responsibilities around to make their efforts more effective," Singh said leaning back in his chair. "Maybe it is, but the fact is that we were already pulled off of our other cases and when she was doing that she pulled some cases and I haven't been able to find out who she handed them off to." "Which cases?" Mitch asked. "I don't have a full list yet," Jim said. "I just know that some of the cases seem to have gotten lost in the shuffle is all." "That may be a possible explanation," Singh said, "But if she was merely seeking to cover her bases so as to not look like she was less effective it is more likely that she could have started this broader investigation quietly for her own reasons and the cases in question may be ones that she has decided to flag for some reason or another." "That's what I was thinking," Jim said. "If it was just CYA not bothering to put it in motion is a pretty dumb move on her part. I mean it'll come out eventually and then when it does she has the original problem on top of that fallout. Clayton is too smart to ask for trouble like that. If she hasn't started an investigation into this, it's because she has a reason for not doing it yet." "I think that's the most likely possibility," Mitch said. "She may be running the cross-check herself because something we pointed her toward did make a connection and that's why she pulled specific cases." "Maybe," Jim said, "But she already has a full plate with keeping the department on task and dealing with the Advisory council as well." "That still doesn't mean that she isn't running point on this herself though," Mitch said. "Maybe she has something that she wants to nail down before she brings others into it. It's not the first time any of us have kept something quiet until it needed to have others brought in on it." "And how did you find this information out in the first place? Why would you even ask?" Singh inquired. "You remember when Arath' Mahar Selicia showed us what happened to us? That part where he called her clever girl?" "How could I forget that?" Singh said. "That experience will be with us until we take our last breath." "Well after my head stopped spinning and you asked us to wrap up what we had so far I started going through the witness statements. And when I did I remembered that I had heard that phrase 'clever girl' before we heard it in Barnes's mind twister," Jim said. "Where would you have heard that? That is not a turn of phrase that most would use in this context," Singh said. "One of the witnesses that we interviewed before we brought you into this called me. She was the one who mentioned it when she called me back." "Where was I when this happened?" Mitch asked. "It was while you were on medical leave just before we went into the Grove to speak with Barnes. One of the witnesses called me back while I was on light duty. I wrote it down and tucked it into the investigation file for later and I didn't think about it until now." "Perhaps now you should elaborate the full scope of that conversation for us then, Detective Brighton," Singh suggested. -------------------------------- Fourth Precinct: Day Four, 1433 hours The phone on the corner of Jim's desk jangled with nerve-wracking volume. With Mitch on medical leave and Jim confined to light duty he was having a bit of difficulty just concentrating on the case. His mind kept wandering to what they had experienced when they entered the Grove. He could hardly believe that there was such a thing as a Grove to begin with and it was more difficult to focus on the ordinary when the extraordinary demanded his attention. He was still a detective though and he just couldn't leave it alone even with the strangeness that hung over what he knew already. His mind worried at the scattered bits of it they had managed to piece together already. He could have gone home like he had the day before, but he did feel better and with everything else that was going on it felt good to step away from what was happening on Magnolia Circle and concentrate on some real police work instead. "Detective Brighton speaking," He said hoarsely into the receiver. "Detective, it's Mary Cortez. You interviewed me a couple of days ago. I live about two houses down from Mr. Barnes." "Yes, Ms. Cortez, I remember," He said, summoning up the memory of the short Hispanic woman he and Mitch had talked to. "You asked me to call you if I remembered anything about the last time I saw Mr. Barnes?" she said. "Yes, I did," Jim said into the telephone. "Have you remembered something then?" "It's probably nothing," The woman said. "Why don't you not worry about that and tell me what it is. If it is nothing then it doesn't matter and I'll thank you for telling me about it just the same." "Okay," she said. "You asked if there was anything out of the ordinary on Thursday or Friday night. Well, there was something that didn't seem like much at the time, but I kept thinking that I should tell you and I then I just kept putting it off." "Take your time. Tell me about it as completely as you can remember," Jim said, reaching for his pen and trying to encourage her to talk freely without seeming like he was forcing it out of her. "There was a man there on Thursday night," she said. "Inside Mr. Barnes's home?" He asked. "No, on the street outside. On the edge of the sidewalk, where the stairs lead up to the walkway." "And what was this man doing?" He asked her. "He wasn't doing anything," she said. "He was just standing there and I could hear him talking to someone in Mr. Barnes's house, but I don't think he was talking to Mr. Barnes if that makes any sense." "Was he speaking loudly?" Jim asked her. Maybe some of the others in the neighborhood could corroborate this and possibly shed a little more light on it as well. "No," she said "That's just it. He wasn't saying anything louder than a whisper, but at the same time I could hear him as clearly as if he was right beside me." "And what was he saying? Jim asked. "That's the part that doesn't make any sense. He was talking to someone he called clever girl. And I knew that it just couldn't be Mr. Barnes he was talking to, so that's part of why I didn't say anything until now." "And what's the other part?" Jim asked. "After I heard him say that, I could swear I saw him turn his head and look at me where I was behind the curtains." "He looked right at me and said that it would be best for me if I just minded my own business. And every time I've thought about telling you about this since you first came to talk to me, I hear him saying it to me again. It's only today that I've been able to hang on to it and bring myself to speak with you if that makes any sense." "Well thank you for contacting me with this information," Jim said to her. "I'll look into it and you don't worry about it," He said as reassuringly as he could to her. Jim took a few more minutes to see if there was anything more that she might add, but there really wasn't. He thanked her again and hung up the phone. He looked down at the notes that he had been taking while she was talking. There wasn't much to go on as a description. When he tried to worry any details about him she was unable it seemed to actually focus on anything specific about him. Just that the figure belonged to a man and that he was hidden in shadow even though there was no shortage of street lights in the cul-de-sac. He looked down at what he had written again and circled "Time to play now, clever girl," Jim had no idea what that could mean, but for some reason he was certain that phrase was wrapped up in the case somewhere. ---------------------------------- - "When I remembered that I went over my case notes again," Jim said, "And I realized that if there were a connection to any of the other cases it would turn up when they started comparing them. Things like this that made no sense before would have a base of reference now. At least that is what I was thinking might be possible. That's when I went to see Krevsky." "Whether Lt. Clayton has just not gotten around to authorizing this action or is investigating it personally for her own reasons is irrelevant now," Singh said. "It does appear that your instincts regarding possible connections with other cases though are more relevant than ever. Are there any means for you to investigate such a comparison now without anyone becoming aware of what you are doing?" "I already have. We had to turn over our case files to the others when they put us on Barnes's case, but I still have the digital copies of those files. I can start there and see what I dig up. After I do that I can ask around and see what the others have lurking on their hard drives. If there is a connection to this shadowy man hiding there, now that I'm looking for it I'm likely to recognize it when I see it this time." "And once you exhaust those investigations you have access to are you certain that the others will indeed cooperate?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure that the others won't object to me looking over what they have. After all Clayton did state for the record that what I'm going to be doing is what she has already directed," Jim said. "I think that it would be a prudent course of action to keep this investigation as quiet as possible for now gentlemen," he said. "The areas of inquiry you have suggested seem to be the ones more likely to produce some connections at the moment, but I am of the opinion that for now we should keep this expansion of our field of interest to ourselves." "Any reason why?" Jim asked. "Nothing concrete as yet," Singh said. "Just a reluctance to advertise our intentions for the time being." "And how long is it likely to be just the two of us on this?" Mitch asked. "I know you want us to dig into this as deep as we can, but just having the two of us on this can't be the beginning and end of it." "It isn't," Singh said, "But you will be on your own for a while unless you uncover something that demands greater scrutiny. Rest assured that once the status of the Grove is secured I will join you in your efforts then." "And how is that going?" "Once the council actually focused on what they were assembled for rather than undermining its purpose the progress has been much more rapid. But it will take several weeks of negotiation before they have the beginnings of a final agreement," he said. "And I'm sure that having Kinsey there isn't doing very much good. That man is garbage I tell you. He claims every success and abandons every failure. And if he isn't doing that he sits like a giant turd in the hallway stinking up the place," Mitch swore. "Alderman Kinsey is much less trouble than you might expect him to be in this instance," Singh said. "He has discovered where his own interests and those of the Grove intersect and he is now working to finalize the agreement between the Grove and city as rapidly as possible." "Well that's a surprise," Mitch said, "Why the change of heart, presuming he has one in the first place?" "I believe it has much to do with the initial offer the Grove's representatives made regarding financial compensation," Singh said. "Figures," Mitch spat, "As long as it fattens his bank account he's all for it regardless of any other consideration. So he's going to make out like a bandit and that's all that matters to him. I hope they know who they're dealing with and they have the money they need to choke him with." "I don't think that will be an issue, detective Travers," Singh said. "The Grove has been preparing for this moment for a long time. I suspect they have enough to quench even Alderman Kinsey's considerable greed." "They don't know the man very well," Mitch said. "He chases a buck like some people breathe." Singh merely answered by naming a figure. Mitch bolted upright hearing the amount being proposed. "You're kidding?" he said. "That much? How do they even have that much money?" "They have that much and more," Singh said "For as long as we have been preparing for this day the Grove has been preparing as well. They are not ignorant of what motivates some men and they began setting aside resources even before the Concord was ratified." "But how? I mean that's a lot of money and you're saying they are going just drop that to begin with," Jim said. "That amount is only a small portion of their financial resources gentlemen. In the last few years many of the technological advances that are of their design have enabled them to reap a great deal of income from that area alone. That is only their most recent effort though. There is also their longstanding effort in mitigating natural conditions as well." "What does that mean? How do they do that?" Mitch asked. "Flood and drought control for one thing. Wherever there is an established Grove they can directly influence the weather conditions in the immediate vicinity. In those areas there is moderation in seasonal conditions and they can attempt to do the same in areas that are at the edge of their range with greater or lesser success." "If you look at the data you would see that there are parts of the world that never really see drought or severe flooding. That is because of the dryad influence over the surrounding area. Just as Arath' Mahar Selicia influenced the weather here when she awoke; they can do the same as a matter of course. And they are well paid for what influence they can exert." "But there are still droughts and flooding. You see it all the time. There was a drought that lasted at least six years here not that long ago," Mitch pointed out. "There will not be another one in this area. Detective Travers. Now that there is a Grove in Stafford that influence will keep such conditions at bay. And as for other areas, the further away from their Grove the less influence they exert but as the ambient magic grows that may prove to be less of a factor." "And as for what they do with those funds let's try a simple mathematical exercise. If you were to place one hundred dollars into an account that paid even a small amount of interest over a century and a half you would find that small amount would have generated almost seven hundred thousand other dollars on average. The Grove, gentlemen have placed far more than one hundred dollars in their account to grow and in addition to that they have been setting up companies as well to handle those requirements. For a race that has little need of money they are surprisingly adept at collecting it. But then they have always been long term thinkers so in some ways this is not surprising that this habit would carry over in this way." "That's still a lot of money," Mitch said. "Enough even to buy Kinsey's agreement I would venture," Singh said. "Probably," Mitch said. "He's an utter shit, but there's one thing you can count on him to be. And that is that he is for sale if the money's right." Singh held up an imaginary wine glass in mock toast. "Then in this case for once let his greed serve the greater good. Salude," he said. "You still need to watch yourself around him," Jim said warily. "When I was in black and whites I drew the short stick to execute evictions that he was pursuing. He's a nasty piece of work when he wants to be. One of his renters had cause to contest the eviction and got a judge to sign an injunction. It arrived just as we were about to escort them out of the property. Kinsey was pretty livid over that, but there wasn't anything he could do about it right then." "We packed it in and both of us on that call were not regretting having it turn out that way. A week and a half later when the family was out, the house burned to the ground. Arson was pretty sure that he made it happen, but there was just enough wiggle room to let him get away with you see. Don't think that just because he ended up with more money this way than he would have doing it his way that he'll forget what happened in there. You made him look weak and that is the worst thing you could do to him. Don't be surprised if he comes after you later on in some indirect fashion." "Detective Brighton, Alderman Kinsey may be a big fish in our small pond, but as I told Mayor Watson when he raised a similar concern if he attempts retaliation when I am no longer in my current position he will find that there are countermeasures in place to deal with one such as him that will come into play. Whatever he may do to me to satisfy what he considers his due will become his regret when those wheels begin turning and they will grind very fine indeed under such circumstances." Singh mimed placing the glass on his desk. "Now for the time being, I'll continue to meet with you under the cover of briefing you about the Grove's status. None would think that it is anything other than routine and it will allow you to maintain what anonymity you have for that much longer. And with that gentlemen, I think it best that we focus on the task at hand; to whit, finding out the why. May we all find our way to it straight and true." "How long do you think we can fly under the radar with this Singh? Mitch asked. "I mean for now you're big daddy with the big stick, but that's not going to be forever. What do we do if someone tries to pull the plug after your mojo is gone?" "My tenure will expire gentlemen, of that there is the most absolute certainty," Singh said with staid gravity. "With that said, there are still things that I can set in motion that will continue past that point." "So you're certain that you can swing this then?" Jim asked. "There are too many things in this chain of events that are not even explored yet, let alone explained," he said. "Too many instances that need to be understood before an appropriate course of action should be undertaken. And they must be ferreted out; of that I am absolutely certain." "I agree," Mitch chimed in. "So what do you want us to do after we do find something? What are our limits?" "I want you to hound the trail of this shadowy man. He is the crux that these events revolve around and until his involvement is understood there is no end to this situation. So I am using my authority as the temporary head of the FRT in this matter to open an investigation; a very special sort of investigation." "How special?" Jim asked intrigued. "One that cannot be overridden by anyone who could possibly be thought of as being in your chain of command and cannot be ended until those who are tasked with it have satisfied themselves that they have exhausted all avenues of inquiry." "That sounds pretty high powered," Mitch said. "Are you certain that you can do it?" "I would not broach the subject with you if it were not only feasible but necessary as well. Are both of you gentlemen willing to beard the lion in its den?" Jim looked at Mitch and saw the same willingness to follow this case to its conclusion that he felt. "Absolutely," he answered a hair before Mitch responded in the affirmative. "Good," Singh said. "For this investigation you will report only to me. We must consider ourselves on our own for the time being. Not in the sense that we are without resources, but in the sense that what is uncovered is shared only between the three of us for now. Not Lt. Clayton, not the chief of police, not the mayor, not the governor. You can't even tell your wife what you are doing Detective Travers. There will be opportunity to bring in others when the time comes, even with my loss of station, if this touches on what I suspect it does. But for the time being only the three of us will know the entirety of our discussions and it must remain that way." Mitch and Jim nodded in somber agreement. Singh slowly rose from behind his desk and extended his hand to them. "Then let the hunt begin gentlemen. Hound and harry this shadowy man until you run him to earth and let not even hell itself stop you." He took their hand in his own one after the other and in doing so Jim felt that there was much more riding on what they were about to embark on than any other case that he had ever been involved in. The two men turned to leave when Singh bade them wait a moment. "Before you leave there is something that I would like for you both to do. A...precaution of sorts." "What kind of precaution?" Jim asked. "One that I think necessary considering what the two of you will be looking into. We already know that this shadowy man possesses powers of his own; powers he has already shown that he will not hesitate to use. With that in mind I would be remiss if I set you on his trail without girding you as best I can," he said opening one of the drawers in his desk and starting to rummage around. "Now where did I put those things," he muttered as his hand searched through first one drawer and then another. "Ha!" he said in satisfaction and stood upright from his search. "Found them. Little beggars slipped to the back of the drawer." Singh opened a small polished wooden box, extracted and laid a pair of teardrop shaped crystals on the wood of the desk next to the mass of paperwork and just in front of the two detectives line of sight. "What are those?" Mitch asked softly, his eyes drawn to the crystalline beauty of the stones. "A protection for the both of you...in its own small way," Singh answered. "I cannot tell you the purpose of these trinkets, because if I were to do so, such knowledge may negate that protection. I need for the both of you to do as I ask you to do without question and to trust in my intentions." "Is this really necessary Singh?" Jim asked him. "Gentlemen, it is in no way an understatement to say that what you are about to embark on is something that is highly charged to say the least and if it does have the aethereal connection that we suspect that it does then both of you may very well be in great danger from the moment you uncover its trail and even after we bring that information to Lt. Clayton's attention. Take the crystals in your palms and look deeply into them. Hold them and concentrate on them until they hold your protection in their depths." Jim and Mitch both reached for the small clear teardrops and cupped them in their open palms. "How long do we need to do this for?" Mitch asked. "You will know when it is completed. Don't speak when it is and give your crystal back to me immediately," Singh said and left them to looking into the crystal depths in silence. Jim was the first one to react. As he stared into the crystal depths his eyes widened and he made an involuntary "Oh" sound. His eyes snapped up toward Singh and he started to speak, but Singh raised his hand immediately and bade him be silent. He quickly scooped up the crystal from his palm and tucked it away back into the wooden box. When Mitch reacted in an identical fashion he did the same thing and took the now glowing crystal away from him and returned the box to the drawer in his desk. "What was that?" Mitch asked awe tingeing his words. "What you saw there is for your eyes alone Detectives, and it must remain so as long as this measure is needed. Do not ask me anything more lest you threaten your own protection." The two men nodded in uncomprehending assent and before either of them could speak another word Singh concentrated on the both of them until the two men's eyes dulled. As he did so the glow in his own eyes gradually increased until there was no doubt that he had them entirely in his control. He hated the necessity of this part, but it was a vital. Not a single trace of this memory, of this action was safe even in their own consciousness. Singh watched as both of the men's eyes glazed over briefly as the memory of what they did with the crystals was eradicated from their conscious minds. He held them there until he was certain that the purging of the last few moments was complete and then released them. The light in his eyes faded away and moments later the two men blinked and then shook their heads as if clearing away cobwebs. "I think that will be all for now gentlemen," he said and walked with them out of his office. "Good hunting." ------------------------------ "You know," Mitch said, "I know I say this each time, but I'm still going to say it again; I hope whoever this joker is that he's one of the stupid ones." "Won't get any argument with me over that," Jim said and the truth was that there wouldn't be. When you got down to it the basic fact was that criminal masterminds were mostly few and far between. Even the ones that were certain that they had all of the bases covered invariably overlooked things that they had no idea that they should worry about in the first place and that sloppiness was the chink in the armor that a good detective needed to start. And for every halfway competent criminal there were a few hundred fools who left so much to track them down with that the department would have to be both blind and stupid themselves to miss the trail. Take the average crook; here was an individual that seemingly held all of the cards. They chose the time, the place and the event; they dictated the first few crucial steps and all local law enforcement could do initially is respond to what was happening and that was starting from behind the eight ball if anything was. But then came the slew of mistakes that were inevitably made and as each piece of the puzzle was fitted together the balance of power shifted and most of the stupidest of them ended up snatched up within a few days because of their own actions betraying them. Usually the first thing most of them did was head for home; even if the smartest thing to do would be to go somewhere else entirely, most of them didn't do that. As long as they were not under suspicion yet quietly slipping away with a reasonable excuse for their absence would derail the speed of confirming they were who the authorities were looking for in a given circumstance and if they were already away they would have a head start in the event they were linked to the crime; but most didn't think that way. They went to where they felt comfortable and expected that they would just disappear even if they were the focus of an investigation. And then there were the truly stupid ones; the ones that made it obvious in some way because deep down at their core they just believed that they were so smart that they could do whatever it was that led the police to them in the first place and no one would notice. Like the idiot who gets away with robbing a bank and then a week later buys a flashy car like he just can't help waving a red flag in front of the bull that was the investigation. Most people seemed to think that the exceptions; the hardest cases that made headlines month after month, year after year were the rule rather than the exception and they were out there. But thankfully most weren't like that. Jim was thinking that when they started fitting this one together it was just as likely that whoever this shadowy man was they had an even chance of locking horns with someone who was overconfident and sloppy as one of those rare criminal masterminds that newspapers and novels liked to point to as the majority of who the cops faced off against. Looking at what they had already to go on that might not be as farfetched a hope as it seemed. Whoever this was, it was possible that he was relying on staying under the radar the way he had so far as his main line of defense. Now that someone was looking for him specifically that defense might prove to be little more effective than the Maginot line was and if that proved to be the case Jim would heave a sigh of relief. He wasn't James Bond and he had no desire to face off against Ernst Blofeld; give him a run of the mill idiot who thought he was untouchable any time. "So how do you want to tackle this?" he asked Mitch as they walked back to their desks. "We still have to wrap up the Barnes and Phillips cases to keep the Lieutenant happy as well as start in on this." "I know," Mitch said. "The problem is that I'm not sure we can do that, not in any way that the higher-ups in the department can swallow." "I hear that," Jim said and it was the truth down to the bone. The problem was that while both men had turned up and the two of them knew exactly what had happened from the time they disappeared until they resurfaced, explaining that they knew what they knew because of a mental vision of the chain of events wasn't something that those same higher- ups were likely to be willing to accept in an official report, even though they were aware of the veracity of the circumstances. "Maybe the techs have something from the eyes around the house like we talked about?" Mitch said easing into his seat while Jim settled into his own. "We never got back with them before we got sidelined, who knows they might have gotten something good out of it already. You've already ripped into them once over it. Maybe they have something for us now?" "Won't break my heart if they do," Jim answered. "Evidence like that would at least be something we could point to that they would be more willing to accept than just our sworn statement that this was what happened." "Then I'll tell you what," Mitch said, "You chase that angle. We have to close those cases first anyway and if we're lucky there may be something there that will point us in the right direction with the rest of this mess." "And you?" Jim asked. Mitch unlocked his lower desk drawer and pulled the thick file that Gregor, the assistant M.E. had passed on to them. "I'm going do what I told Singh I was going to do. I'm going to start with looking into this," he said, "I don't think it's an accident that we ran into this and if nothing else it's weird enough on its own that it merits a closer look. If it doesn't turn out to be connected then we can still run whatever I turn up past Singh and he can spin it off on a separate investigation." "Makes sense," Jim said, "I'll wrap this up then and you holler if you find something." "Will do," Mitch said and opened the file. --------------------------------- Fourth Precinct: Day 38, 0900 hours Looking over the thick file the first thing Mitch decided that he needed to do was to verify the critical facts of the cases that Dr. Gregor had already identified. From a medical standpoint he had been very thorough, but from an investigator's standpoint there were things that Mitch saw right away that Gregor had probably not thought to check. As he leafed through the paperwork, one of the first things that Mitch noticed was the character of the identification request that had been submitted through Dr. Gregor's office for each special case. Specifically that each of them was extremely limited in their scope. A copy of the results that were returned were included with each separate case file that made up the binder, but when Mitch examined each of them closer what jumped out at him was the way that the search request was submitted. As he looked over it he was fairly certain that even with his level of clearance that Gregor should have been able to obtain something more detailed than what was shown in the file now. It was almost as if whoever submitted the print match request did so in such a deliberately vague manner as to hobble any potential results. That may be what had happened he decided as he turned it over in his mind. Gregor had said that he had been forced to progress even this much under limitations that were imposed on him by his supervisor. It may well be that this lesser request was his way of attempting to get around that limitation. It was, after all, standard procedure to print and try to match any unknown DOA's that turned up against the database. No matter the reason for his objection to doing so, Gregor's boss would know that it would be a bad idea to skip that part of the protocol; doing so would leave him in actionable circumstances in a multitude of ways if he was trying to sit on this for some reason. None of these cases that Gregor said that the senior medical examiner wished to avoid having attention being drawn to was worth that kind if risk; particularly with was likely to happen if his behavior came to light in the first place. The first thing he decided that he would do then would be to resubmit another request that would return a full printout of all of the possible hits when prints he had taken were fully matched. Or at least as fully matched as possible. With possible victims in the apparent condition that these ladies were in, finding out who they were might raise more questions than they answered. That last part was fine with Mitch that was why he was doing this in the first place. He was looking at a jigsaw puzzle that had the picture wiped clean and so far he barely had part of a single border assembled to give him a decent start to that. To someone like him that was reason enough to start piecing it together again. He keyed in his authorization code and started running the comparison. The department computer had a direct land link hard wired into the system. The main network may not be the latest and greatest when it came to computer systems, but the connection was second to none and after a few minutes of waiting the machine started spitting the results of the search into the empty paper bin for him to collect when they were all completed. There were thirty-four cases listed in the digital file that Dr. Gregor had passed on to him and Jim when they had run into him in the city morgue beneath Mercy General Hospital. Mitch watched the paper spit into the hopper and wondered how long it had taken for him to assemble thirty-four separate dossiers. He hadn't asked him when they were speaking to him exactly how long that Gregor had been collecting this data. Since he was a junior member of the medical examiner's staff it probably wasn't that long at all he reasoned. Mitch watched the stack of paper climbing higher and higher as the computer hunted up the adjusted search parameters and dutifully spit out the adjusted search results. Every twenty five papers that exited into the hopper were stapled and shifted into a collection hopper for him to pick up when the process was finished. Finally the last batch passed through the system and after auto stapling it and depositing it into two sheaves, one thick and the other thin, the machine started winding down and fell silent. Mitch picked up the small stack of paper and carried it back to his desk to get started. ---------------------------- Matt Gregor's cell phone chirped in his shirt pocket. He let it go to voice mail and continued extracting the liver and kidney samples to get started on the toxicology report. That was a lot of what it was that he did here. That was actually the main focus of his job here since he had gotten on the bad side of the senior M.E. For his sins, he was the one who handled the tox screenings and had been since he first brought the special cases to the senior M.E.'s attention. The M.E. had played it off as a promotion at first, but it hadn't taken Matt long to figure out he was being shuffled to the side and being kept busy to keep him away from the special cases completely. Toxicology screenings had a lot of potential for keeping him sidelined and all that the M.E. needed to do to keep him busy was to have him run a full battery of tests over and over again to eat up the time he had available. And if the M.E. thought that he was looking still where he shouldn't, he had him re-run the screenings for cases he knew he'd done right the first time. Like what had happened today. This one had come in last night and he'd had plenty of time to run the toxicology report. If what he'd submitted had an error on it he'd eat the damned thing but that wasn't the case. This morning when he arrived he was told to reset and run this battery of tests again the moment he walked through the door, because the samples were supposedly contaminated. Something he knew hadn't happened, but he was too close to the line already so he pulled the body and got started again. When the phone rang he had been engaged in removing the organs one more from the cadaver in question. This was a fresh arrival, but it wasn't the only one. There was another special case that came in last night in the room and until he finished here he wouldn't be able to get at it and document what he needed to document before it went out again. When the phone rang he felt a flash of resentment that he would have to listen to the sound until it finally stopped no matter how annoying it was. With his glove sheathed hands currently sunk deeply in viscera there was nothing else he could do. He had just placed the organs in sample dishes and reached to strip off the gloves when the ringing stopped as it went to voice mail. Matt turned to finishing up what he was doing so that he could get the tests started. Once those were underway he would be able to step away from here and get started on documenting the new special case. He wouldn't be able to cut into her, not with the rest of them here, but he could do the other things that were necessary in trying to find out as much as he could about the Jane Doe's. The organs both visibly showed evidence that there was definitely some toxic assistance to this particular specimen's demise. Some defense attorney was going to have their work cut out spinning this in a positive light was Gregor's opinion. He deposited the collected samples on his work bench and stripped the blue gloves off of his hands and then dropped them in the wastebasket next to it. He was whistling a low keyed tune as he dropped the samples he had just taken into the centrifuge. The D.A. was already burning up the lines screaming for his toxicology report and no matter of reassurance that his request already had priority was doing any good as far as shutting him up. Matt wondered if he had some personal connection with this one as he finished preparing the samples and loaded them into the machine. Once it was beginning to spin and needed none of his immediate attention he reached into his pocket and checked to see who it was that had contacted him. He blinked when he saw the name associated with the number and immediately punched the call return. The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "Detective Travers," the voice on the other end said. "This is Dr. Gregors," Matt said. "Sorry for not picking up your call earlier. I was a little occupied and I wasn't able to call back until now. What can I help you with?" he asked. "You can start by telling me why you neglected to tell either detective Brighton or me the truth about the fingerprint requests that you ran. And then when you do that we can move on to what comes after that," Travers said to him. "Good," Gregors said in relief. "You looked at the files then." "Of course I looked at the files," detective Travers said and from the way you just answered me you know that when I did I found out something that didn't quite match the story you were telling me before. What I want to know is why you did it. I already know what and how, but I'd like to hear it from you before I take any further action. " Matt was expecting something like this so the accusation didn't faze him. He could tell that detective Travers could probably hear that in the tone of his voice when he answered. "Call it a tripwire of sorts," Matt said to him. Detective Travers didn't respond at first and then he made a soft hmm sound and Matt was pretty certain that he grokked what Matt had intended when he left that part of the puzzle open ended. "You wanted to see if I'd actually look into it," Matt heard his voice say through the phone's speakers. "Or if I was just going to say I was going to and then file it away and let it disappear." "And since we're having this call, obviously you have looked into it and when you did you found the same thing that I did," Matt said. "Why didn't you just mention that when you handed this off to us?" he asked Mitch. Matt wished he could have, he really did. The problem was that bringing something like that up was information that he reckoned would have hurt rather than help his cause. But now that it was out and was sitting in front of the detective as a result of actions that he had initiated himself it was all right in Matt's opinion to set the hook since the detective had taken the bait. "Before I get into that detective I'm going to have to give you some information and you'll have to write it down. Let me know when you're ready." There was some shuffling around on the other side of the line. Matt didn't need to be there to recognize the sound of a drawer opening and the rattling of a hand picking through what was in there in search of a pen. When detective Travers indicated that he was ready Matt started talking him through how to find the nested file that was hidden in with the other data that he had passed along and the password that would allow him to open it once he ran the decryption algorithm in the file. "You'll find copies of everything that I didn't mention in that file," he told him. "There's more in there than just the little bit you turned up when you ran a couple of print requests." "I actually ran all of them at once," Travers said to him. "That's how I know it was not an isolated incident but a deliberate effort to shade the truth of what I'm seeing here." "If you know that then you should be able to figure out why it was that I did it this way," Matt said. "I have my own ideas along those lines," Travers said to him. "I'd still like to hear it from you even so. Just to have it out in the open you might say." "Well it's pretty obvious, I'd say," Matt replied, "It was bad enough that none of the physical evidence of any of these cases matched up. I already told you how much trouble I had trying to get someone to look even at what I had." "And then the two of you walk in and you were willing to give me at least a fair hearing. I knew that if I had told you that every one of those bodies that I sent in a print request for came back as belonging to a woman in her mid twenties instead of what you saw on the table, that you would have thanked me for my time and then quietly walked away and forgotten about me." There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment and then Travers spoke to him. "I can see that," he said. "In your shoes I can see how shading it just enough to get it in motion was a risk worth taking. And the thing is that if it wasn't for what my partner and I were involved in already I might have done just what you were worried that I would do." "But," he said firmly, "I am a curious man by nature Dr. Gregors. What you showed us was enough by itself to make me interested in what you stumbled across and I'd like to think that if you had told me the full story I'd still be doing what I'm doing right now." "I hope you see that I couldn't take that chance, detective Travers," Matt told him. "I needed you to see what I saw in much the same way that I found out about it. I knew if you did that you wouldn't be able to let it go." "And is there anything else you've neglected to mention?" Travers asked him. "No, detective Travers, once you decrypt that file you have everything I've gathered so far, but that still won't be complete I'm afraid," Matt told him. "And why would that be the case?" Mitch asked him. "Because about four hours ago another special case was delivered here. I haven't looked at it yet, but I'm positive it's the same as the others." "And what makes you so certain of this if you haven't examined it yet," Mitch inquired. "Because the moment that I stepped across the door this morning the senior M.E. insisted that I reprocess all of the tests that I worked on yesterday." "Why did he say that he want you to do that? How does that have anything to do with this new body being a possible special case?" Mitch asked. "He claimed that the samples were contaminated and it skewed the results, but that's not true. I triple checked those results when I finished them. I told you when you were here before that I was already on thin ice over this. Well part of my cover yourself routine is making certain that I don't make sloppy mistakes. When I left here last night there was nothing wrong with any of the work I did yesterday." "And you're positive that this latest body is a special case?" he said quietly. "Absolutely detective," Gregors said, "The moment I came in this morning all of the work I did yesterday suddenly needed to be redone. That's what he does now every time that one of these comes in. He never claims that it's my fault that the test was compromised, something else always happens. But the result is the same. He's trying to keep me occupied so I don't have time to look them over." "And will you? Have time to look them over that is?" Mitch asked. "I've already done the tests," Gregor responded, "When I started suspecting that was what was happening I started running two of every test and submitting only one set of results. I have to retake samples now to make it look like I'm starting from scratch, but I promise you that case won't go out the door until I've had a look at it and collected the samples I need to collect. I'll get at it as soon as I can. What I'm doing isn't going to take me as long as the senior M.E. thinks it will." "And what if someone else comes in and processes it while you're dealing with these tests? Can you take that chance?" Mitch asked. "Detective Travers, that's not going to happen. Ever since I started having to do these tests over I've made it a point to do them in the same room the special is stored in. Don't worry; it won't go out until I've had a look at it." "All right them," Mitch said. "Send me what you find to my department e- mail. It's there on my card. Use that same encryption that you just gave me." "You'll have it in a few hours," Dr. Gregor assured him. "And Dr. Gregor?" "Yes, detective?" "From now on you notify me immediately the moment one of these special cases comes in. If one gets slipped through the mail slot by Santa Claus, I want to know about it," Mitch said. "If Santa Claus is slipping those in my mail slot, I promise you I'm not keeping that to myself. If another comes in you are definitely my first call, count on it." Mitch thanked him and ended the call. Matt stared at the now blank screen of his phone. He felt like he'd just made a touchdown at the Super bowl and if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't want to let his boss know what he was up to he might have done more than allow the enormous grin that was spreading across his face show how much taking this call had boosted his morale. Matt slipped the phone back into his pocket and pulled another pair of surgical gloves on. Those samples would be done in a little bit and even if the call was the best news that he had gotten in a while there was still a need to go through the motions of putting that toxicology report together. Bending over the centrifuge he started humming again in an off key fashion while he got back to work. ------------------------ Mitch found the file that Dr. Gregors told him of right where he said it would be. He probably would have found it eventually as he went through the files one by one, but just when that would have been would be anybody's guess. He keyed in the decryption code and while he waited for the file to process he picked up the sheaf of papers that he had pulled out of the FDS fingerprint files. The thing that had gotten his attention when he entered the collected fingerprints into the system was that each one of them had processed far too quickly. Each of them did take time but there was no way that they had been compared with the entire database. That was what happened when there wasn't a match. But not with these ones. Some of them had come back right away and all of them had come back with a name attached. When Mitch started seeing information that contradicted what Dr. Gregor specifically told them it sent his suspicions into a higher gear ratio and the only conclusion that he could reach was that he was getting played in some fashion. But after talking with Dr. Gregor again he didn't feel that way now though. The man was paranoid about this, but it seems that paranoia had been justified. The assistant medical examiner had given him some pretty good reasons for omitting what he had and looking at it from his point of view Mitch didn't have much that he could point to that would find fault with what he had done. If he had come out and insisted from the start that each of the cases that he was pointing them to matched a woman in her twenties there was a pretty good chance of him being dismissed as a crank before the evidence was given a good going over. But instead Mitch had ended up doing just what Gregor intended for him to do. You had to admire someone who used an omission that should have been a weakness as strength in that fashion. Mitch looked over at the bar monitoring the file decryption. It was at twenty percent now and not in any big hurry to finish up. That must be one monster of an algorithm that Gregor used he thought and turned back to the print outs and started flipping through them. Some of the names tickled at his memory, but he couldn't say for what reason it was that they did so. When this was done he was going to have to run another search through the system. He had just specified an identification request. He hadn't asked for anything more than that for a first run. When this was done he was going to see if any of these girls had any sort of a record. If they did then that would likely point him in some kind of direction he was more familiar with and then he could take it from there. At least that was what he intended to do. His intentions though only lasted about halfway through the stack of papers when he found himself freezing in place and staring at the name that was listed there. He blinked to make sure that his eyes were not over tired and just seeing things, but it was still there when he looked at it again. It wasn't a mistake he realized. The printout had clearly identified Jane Doe number 4968 as Marissa D'Angelo. Mitch stared at that and as he did other pieces began to fall into place in his mind and he knew why some of the names he'd ran across sounded familiar and what was more he knew where he needed to look next. ----------------------------- Fourth Precinct; Day 36, 1500 hours Jim looked up from his computer as Mitch walked past his desk without a word and settled heavily into his office chair. Mitch had stepped out a couple of hours earlier and from the look of what Jim was seeing now that he was back whatever he had been up to hadn't panned out as much as he had hoped that it might. "Hey Mitch, care to see something?" he asked. "Depends," Mitch said, "Is is going to wow me?" "Oh I think it will," Jim said as he minimized what he was working on and pulled up the file he wanted his partner to see. As the video began to play Mitch frowned and asked what it was that he was looking at. Jim leaned back in his chair with a slow smile and told him it was footage from inside of Barnes's house covering the entire time that she had shown them in her vision. "I thought he didn't have any cameras positioned inside the house?" Mitch said. "He did, they were just very well concealed. Buttonhole cameras with a wireless link on his home server," Jim said. "How did we miss that?" Mitch asked. "Cause we were supposed to," Jim answered. "When you mentioned that his house devices might have a few images in the memory buffer the techs we sent to the house traced where the buffer was supposed to be connected to. Once they located the file the surveillance footage was there as well. We have a complete record of everything that happened in every room of the house. From what they tell me it had a hell of a nasty encryption protocol. Took forever for them to crack it." "Holy shit," Mitch said, "Does that mean it got everything?" "It does. Down to the last detail. Inside and outside. We should have figured that a techie like Barnes wouldn't go for big boxy obvious cameras. Not him. He'd want the latest stuff for his pride and joy," Jim said chortling as he started the video file. He didn't want it to take forever so he upped the frame speed and fast forwarded. The house itself had eight rooms and two hallways. There were two cameras sited for each room, except for in the two bathrooms and the four bedrooms. With the six cameras outside of the house that gave them a record with twenty-two points of reference. "Can you isolate any one camera like that?" Mitch asked him. "No this is just the multi-screen view. The separate cameras each have their own dedicated file though and on top of that we have the snapshots from the other devices scattered through the house that were uploading to the same server. We got plenty of clear shots from the door cam as well as interior shots that the T.V. and computer camera captured as well." "Enough to back up what we detailed when we wrote down what she showed us?" Mitch asked. "Uh-huh," Jim said scanning through one of the individual camera feeds until he reached what he was looking for. "Take a look at this." Mitch watched and saw the Florida room. From the angle the camera must be mounted in the far corner facing the door so that it could capture everything in its camera angle. There was a second camera mounted opposite it that covered what little blind spot was created by the first cameras location. Jim pushed play and the footage fast forwarded through the images preserved in the data file. Barnes was lying on the floor apparently unconscious. Beside him was the barely smouldering brick hibachi that he had installed in the centre of the room. There was a faint haze of golden smoke from the lotus that he had ignited earlier, but it was gradually thinning now that the source of the smoke was slowly burning out. As the two of them watched they saw him suddenly jerk as if he had touched a live wire. The convulsion was short lived and he did not reawaken after doing so. Jim stopped the playback. "I figure that jerk we saw was when he re-entered his body the way he did after meeting the shadowy man. According to Barnes's journal he was out for a couple of days after that," Jim said. "And does that match up with this?" Mitch asked. "See for yourself," Jim said and started the playback again. Even at high speed it took a while to go through what was there, but that didn't take that long at the high end of the playback range. As the time stamp scrolled by they watched the motionless man as the day rapidly advanced and then was replaced by nightfall. The cameras must have had a low-light filter, because while the night-time image was not as clear as the daylight one was, you could still see what was taking place reasonably clearly. At the time that their memories told them he should be waking they saw him bolt upright and scream in terror and scramble to the corner almost out of frame. Jim stopped the tape. "When I started watching this I was almost certain that it was going to trigger an episode, but I guess I'm clear of that like the doc said when he certified me fit to return." "And you didn't think that it might trigger me?" Mitch asked somewhat alarmed. "No, you got the same all clear that I did. I didn't think it would trigger you either." "If it does I'm going to make sure I puke on you for doing that to me," Mitch said menacingly. "Good luck," Jim said, "If you get triggered by this, I likely will be too and then we both can kiss the floor while we decorate the carpet with our lunch." "What else does it have?" Mitch asked. "This is the most useful part here. Pretty much lays it out in black and white in a way any review board would have to accept," Jim skipped ahead to the time index that he was searching for and ran the recording again. The image on the screen was Barnes again wearing clothes that were almost the same as those he had worn in the previous recording. Jim spun the playback at maximum speed and at first there was little difference between the two recordings. That lasted until it was obvious that this was not the same recording. Before both of their eyes they watched the man's form begin to slowly shrink in size. Subtle at first then with greater speed as the change fireballed its way through his body. Jim didn't think there was any danger of either of them relapsing while they were watching this. When they were experiencing it in the broadcast vision this was something that Barnes did not see at all so it was likely in Jim's estimation that nothing would happen to either of them seeing it in this fashion. Barnes's body continued to shrink in the video, becoming smaller in overall size and rapidly moving in a more feminine configuration as it did so. While they could not see details beneath the clothing that didn't mean that they couldn't see evidence of the changes occurring beneath. He was lying on his back and they could clearly see when the faint outline of his groin abruptly collapsed as well as the swelling of his hips as they reshaped themselves while Barnes's mind was unresponsive. The narrowing chest and shoulders were less detailed for most of the change; the expanse of the shirt he was wearing concealed what was beneath far longer. But the slow steady tenting in the material by a pair of gradually rising breasts was unmistakable when it began. As they watched at high speed the change took only moments instead of the hours it had taken in actuality, but the effect was staggering to behold. While the changes wrought by primary and secondary sexual characteristics were more seen by their impact on the clothing that Barnes was wearing that was not the case with his head. Throughout the change his face was turned away from one of the cameras so there was little to see except the steadily increasing mass of his hair as it thickened and lengthened to pile behind his head. That only meant that the opposite camera was directed at his face as it changed. Under the lenses unblinking eye Barnes's face was reshaped and sculpted until it matched that of the woman that they were introduced to as the Arath' Mahar when they entered the Grove with Singh. There were other changes that took place after that was complete, but for the most part they were more of a refinement of what was already changed rather than new changes in and of themselves. Several hours after the last noticeable change was apparently completed they saw her stir faintly and then slowly rise from her position sprawled on the floor of the Florida room. As in the memory they had witnessed there was no awareness that there was any change immediately. They followed her as she rose and left the room. The hall camera caught her as she went outside and into the view of the six outside cameras. They watched her make a slow circuit around the house as she inspected her handiwork and then re-entered the house itself and slowly mounted the stairs and made her way to the master bathroom. The camera in the master bathroom was mounted at an angle that let them look almost directly over her shoulder into the mirror itself while still taking in the entire room. They watched as the slim black haired woman paused in front of the silvered surface focusing at first on her arm and then they saw the moment that she comprehended the entirety of the physical change in her form. In the vision blackness had swallowed her up and she had little memory of the exact instant that had happened. The film of the event was less forgiving. The moment she entered the room Jim had reduced the playback to half speed. The cameras had an integrated microphone as well so he had muted the audio while the image played across his screen and both of them almost wished they hadn't. The look of sheer horror that suffused her face, the terror literally spilling from her eyes was mind-numbing to behold and at reduced speed the few seconds that she remembered from her first person point of view was stretched and elongated. Watching her collapse was a mercy to them both and Jim already wished that he let it run at normal speed. That way at least it would have been over quicker even though it would have been just as disturbing either way. He hit pause and turned to look at Mitch. "Christ I thought we'd flash just watching that," Mitch said after a moment. "If anything that was actually worse than seeing it through her eyes." "I have to admit I skipped this part until you were back," Jim said. "I needed your eyes on this to make sure I wasn't reading something I shouldn't into what I was seeing here." "What else have you got?" Mitch asked. "Everything between this moment and the moment that he came back and everything that happened after that as well. Right up until we first entered and the techs cloned the hard drive before they removed it from the server." "Have you looked at that part yet?" Mitch asked. "Yeah," Jim said, "It's some pretty gruesome stuff. I won't ask you to subject yourself to it unless you think you need to. Watching that part was the closest I felt to a relapse all week. I had to force myself watch it all the way through. Once she passed through the outer fence it was just him and it took him forever it seemed until he passed through after her. The only thing the cameras outside captured after that was the beginning of the storm." "Did you get anything useful that would help us ID him?" Mitch asked. Jim shook his head negative. "Not a damned thing that we didn't already know from what she showed us." "What about the front door stills? Anything useful come from those? Asked Mitch. "I was working on this other idea I had while I waited for you to get back," Jim said. "I thought it best if we watched that part together." Jim pulled up the gallery and found the still images from the door cam. There weren't that many, but one stood out more than the others. It was a spectacular frame that had caught him just as the ward snapped out and ensnared him. The electric blue of the energy pulsating through the ward had jerked him upward and suspended him screaming in midair, hanging above the stairs just as Arath' Mahar Selicia had shown them, but this image was different from the one in her memory. When she was waiting for him to approach she had been inside, far away from the window where she first saw him coming to get her. She couldn't have seen him like this. She was crouched by the hearth holding back the trap she had set; ears poised waiting for the sound of his foot hitting the stair so she could ensure that she had ensnared him. The camera mounted facing the road and the door camera saw though and the digital images held what she could not see in excruciating detail. One image in particular had to have been taken by the door cam at just the right moment. At the moment that the trap snapped shut while the energy of the protective ward lashed and paralyzed him it had also done one other thing; it had illuminated his face and while the overhead security camera had caught the film, the door camera had frozen that perfect image in its memory. A clear unhidden image of the dark man himself with the shadows that concealed his face stripped away. Mitch looked at Jim but he didn't speak for a moment. Jim understood. The two of them had a more than usual immersion in this case and seeing their quarry like this was both unexpected and eye-opening. "At least we have a face we can match now," Mitch said at last, "Though with only that to go on, it's going to take god only knows how much time for the computer to chew through the facial recognition database for a match, if there even is one there to find." "I'll start the search running as soon as I set up the last bit of this other search I was in the middle of working on," he said, "Like you said, no way of telling how long this is going to take." "Clear the parameters when you do it," Mitch said. It sounded like a strange way to run a search to set up a search, but Mitch didn't volunteer any reason for why he suggested doing that. "Care to tell me why?" Jim asked. "Just a hunch is all," Mitch said, "I'm thinking you might get farther with that if you didn't throw anything into the mix that might limit it." "All right, I'll do it that way then," Jim said and closed out the video file for the time being and tagged the picture so he wouldn't have to rummage through the whole file when he turned back to this. "So what were you working on before you needed me to look at what the techs dug up for us?" Jim pushed away from his desk and called up the minimized search pattern he'd been setting up when Mitch walked up. "I've been running a check of locations where each of the missing person's cases they have on file vanished from and I was going to have the computer put together a city-wide display for us to reference. I'm not sure how much help it could be, but it's a solid place to start." The truth was that doing that was one of the steps that missing persons had already taken and it had turned up nothing when it was done before. Jim had little hope that it would turn out any different this time, but it still was the first logical step when running a comparison of this scale in his opinion so he did it anyway. It wasn't like there was anything else demanding his attention right now that they had the digital record that would verify the report that both of them had furnished to explain the timeline for Barnes's disappearance. But this time it might turn our different as well. Yes, they had run pattern matches with the locations where their cases were last seen and no, there hadn't been anything that leaped out and even implied a connection, but that was before the added factor of the Grove in Olympia was dropped into the stew to season it of course. And now that it was there it demanded of him that he see if this just might show him something this time that it didn't show him before. If there was just some way that they could tie all of these things together then they at least would have a direction they could move in. Just something that might show more promise than what he had dug up so far was all he asked for. "Did you have any luck?" he asked. "You didn't say where you were headed when you went out and from the look on your face when you walked in it didn't look like whatever you went out to do helped much," he said to his partner. "It didn't," he said, "Wasn't sure if it would, but I hoped for more than I got." "That doesn't sound very promising," Jim answered. "It wasn't. I paid Fetterman a little visit," he said. Jim sat up in his chair and leaned over toward his partner. "Now why'd you go and do something like that?" he asked. "I had a lead that didn't pan out," he said. "I was hoping that if it panned out that maybe Fetterman might point me in the right direction." "And did he?" asked Jim. "Not in any useful way," Mitch said. ------------------------- Stafford; Day 36, 1022 hours Mitch walked slowly up the stairs of the six story brownstone that was part of the row of buildings lining the street in this neighbourhood. The structures here in this part of Stafford had been built sometime in the late sixties and the same developer that constructed this building had been responsible for all of the ones on both sides of this street. The brownstone was part of one of the waves of urban renewal that had been responsible for this section of Stafford looking the way that it did today. Some genius on the city planning council, sometime in the early sixties, had proposed that with the nation's bicentennial not that far away, that Stafford should use some of the urban renewal funding that they had received to redevelop housing in this part of the city to reflect each of the great American cities. There was enough enthusiasm generated by the idea that it passed with no opposition and ground was broken on the project only a few months later. Stafford residents tended to call this part of town little Brooklyn after that and standing on the end of the street looking down the row of buildings Mitch didn't have to ask why that was. The entire neighbourhood looked like it had been transplanted whole from New York and set down intact in Stafford. Mitch was pretty sure that the architect was from New York City and if it mattered he could check to be certain, but it didn't seem worth bothering over. Most people in Stafford didn't think too much about the odd character of this part of town. By this time, most people who lived in Stafford couldn't imagine the place without it, which was probably a good thing since the buildings weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Except for the car license plates and the accents of the people who lived here, about the only thing that proclaimed that this wasn't a Brooklyn neighbourhood were the trees that were planted by the roadside. There was no way that you were going to find Spanish moss hanging like long grey-green beards on the live oaks that grew here in the north. Mitch climbed the steps of high stoop, opened the door and entered the building. The air conditioning was struggling to cool the place and from the way it felt it was already losing the battle. He headed up the stairs and started making his way to the third floor. When little Brooklyn was being built it was intended that it be mostly residential structures. And it had stayed that way up until the late nineties. Mitch remembered being on patrol here when he was in black and whites and back then this whole place had gone to the dogs. It was run down and it wasn't a place that you lived in longer than you had to if you had a choice and if you were stuck here then it was almost like being condemned in its own way. Since then there had been a lot of changes in the area. Redevelopers had swept in, in the early aughts and started buying up as many of the buildings as they could and mostly they kept it quiet for a while. When they started there were quite a few people who were of the opinion that, whoever it was that was trying to turn the neighbourhood around was just pouring money down a rat hole. Folks didn't think that anymore. Not after it had been rezoned from residential use only to a mixed residential/commercial project. Many of the people who had lived here before ended up leaving as their rent began to steadily rise. Most of the poorer residents wound up moving to Olympia where they could find the cheap rent that was no longer available in little Brooklyn. Ironically, many of them had come to this neighbourhood to get away from Olympia in the first place and now that it had become a nicer place to live it was just another place they couldn't afford to do more than pass through anymore. Now there were more small businesses that were here than actual people who could say that they lived here. There were some of course. Not all of the apartments had been converted to office space in the wake of redevelopment. Quite a few had been repurposed as high priced lofts looking down at the street below from the upper floors and others had been expanded to large homes that took up the upper floor and were far out of reach of most ordinary people's price range. Fetterman kept his office on the third floor of a brownstone about midway on the street that housed this particular set of buildings. According to the information that was in his file he housed his girls in the apartments of the upper three floors as well. He'd been here for a long time. While the neighbourhood itself was in the throes of reinvention he was a steady constant and Mitch was fairly certain that if some of his more recent neighbours knew what he actually did for a living they would be surprised by the revelation. There was no name on the door identifying the business behind the glass. Only the black outline of a rose that grew from the door frame upward to the jamb. Officially it was the Obsidian Rose modelling agency. A small time photo shop that provided local advertising with cheesecake when they needed it, that also had a minor sideline as an escort service. Anyone with a lick of sense knew it was the other way around. The girl that manned the reception desk wasn't familiar to Mitch, but from the tattoo on her right arm she was clearly one of his. Mitch didn't know her name, but that was not surprising. He'd been out of vice for a while now and he had no reason to keep current with Fetterman's talent pool now that he was out of that part of the game. Fetterman was in his office fortunately. Mitch thought that he might be when he headed over here and he was pleased that he had guessed right. The receptionist buzzed him right in. When he stepped into the office the only real difference between Mitch doing so now and the last time he was here was the few years that he had added to his calendar. The reason why was almost the same even and it gave him a feeling of d?j? vu that there wasn't any real change in the place. Fetterman didn't go in for ostentation. Not in his office and not in his lifestyle. He kept it simple. The desk that squatted in the centre of the room wouldn't have looked out of place in any other business with a comparable office space. The office itself was decorated in mostly heavy polished wood and older style leather chairs. It was a room that matched its inhabitant and entering it the only thing that felt out of place was who was visiting it. Fetterman didn't fit the stereotype of a pimp either. For one thing he looked more like a long in the tooth businessman. He claimed that he was sixty, but he looked closer to somewhere in his early fifties. He had short cropped hair and was clean shaven. He wore a business suit in subtle grey and other than a single gold ring on his right hand there was only a well cared for watch on his wrist otherwise there was nothing on his person that could be counted as jewellery. He was unfailingly polite too, that was the other thing about Fetterman. He insisted on it as a matter of fact not only from himself but from those who worked for him. When Mitch walked in he rose from his chair and made certain to come around the desk to glad-hand him. That was another thing that was consistent about Fetterman. He never threatened officers with suggestions of what his influence might do. And he never was anything other than courteous even when the officer in question wasn't. Despite what he did for a living most who met him in person had a generally positive impression of the man. And the thing was that Mitch didn't think it was camouflage. However Fetterman had ended up in this business he had obviously made the effort to not let it define him. When he offered Mitch a chair Mitch didn't hesitate to take it. "I must say you are looking quite splendid detective Travers. How is it we haven't seen you in all of this time?" he said in his smooth mellow voice. "Oh wait, I seem to remember hearing that you had moved on to bigger and better things. That being so what could it possibly be that would bring you to see me on this lovely morning?" "Thank you Mr. Fetterman," Mitch said. With Fetterman you just couldn't help responding in kind and if nothing else it made a welcome change from dealing with some of his competitors. "I'll try not to take too much of your time. The thing is, I need to ask you about a couple of your girls," he said. "I'm a little confused detective," he said taking a tone of someone vaguely bothered at the thought that he even rated the modicum of attention the Stafford police department extended to him. "My girls don't get into trouble. You know that. That is something that I just don't tolerate from them and they all know it. I have a reputation and standards to maintain. If they do anything that threatens either of those they know that I will send them on their way. I don't need the trouble. Your organization knows I try to keep a clean house over here." Coming from someone else it might be reasonable to dismiss what Fetterman was saying as nothing more than a smokescreen, with Fetterman though it was all true. It was one of the things that tended to frustrate the more zealous of vice cops. Fetterman might be a pimp, but he seemed to go out of his way to keep his girls far away from any behaviour that would draw any additional attention from the police. And the thing was that he was doing it not so much to hide what they might have done, but to make certain that there was little or no need for that attention in the first place. "This doesn't have anything to do with anything that your girls might have done Mr. Fetterman. But I do need to speak with Marissa D'Angelo," Mitch said. "Is she around today?" Fetterman licked the corner of his mouth and then bit softly against his lower lip. That wasn't very helpful to Mitch as tells go. All it meant was that he was thinking seriously about what it was that he was told. "I'm so very sorry detective," he said after a brief pause. "This is rather embarrassing. You know how willing I am to offer my assistance to you and your department, but in this case I'm afraid that I can't do so. The Angel isn't with me anymore. I wish I could help you with whatever it is that you need, but the fact of the matter is that I haven't seen her for a long time now." "I can't say that I'm not disappointed to hear that."Mitch said. "She was with you for a good long time wasn't she? Why did she decide to up and skip if you don't mind my asking?" "Oh I don't mind telling you in the slightest detective," he said. "And the Angel didn't skip out on me. None of my girls would ever do something so crass. The reason Ms. D'Angelo is no longer here is that she obtained what it was that she was looking for is all. And once she achieved that then we amicably parted ways." "How do you mean parted ways?" Mitch asked. "I thought none of your girls were interested in leaving here. At least that's what I've always been told," The thing was that no matter how polite and polished the man was you couldn't let your guard down around him and his instincts were telling Mitch that he definitely shouldn't take what Fetterman was telling him at face value. That was true when he walked into the office and he was less inclined to do so now." "I mean precisely what I said detective," Fetterman answered. "A surprising number of my girls can and do depart my employ. I run a clean operation here. No one who works for me does so under duress. My girls come here and they stay as long as their contract permits. They are all happy with my employment conditions and when they reach their goals, and then they head off to greener pastures; in that way they're not unlike you detective. So if I may ask you, why is it that you have a sudden need to speak with Angel?" "Angel isn't in any trouble Mr. Fetterman, but certain information that I have come into possession of indicates that she may have relevant information that could have a significant bearing on another case. We need to speak with her as a material witness," Mitch said. "I surely hate to disappoint you detective," he said. "I truly do. Despite my...occupation, I've always tried to have a cordial relationship with your department." "I know that, Mr. Fetterman and we do appreciate it," Mitch said and while in other cases he would just be making a polite lie serve the moment, right now he was telling the complete truth. "But I still need to speak with her. And any others that may know where she might be now if I you would call them in." Mitch retrieved a printed list from his inner pocket and slid it across the wood of the desktop and watched as Fetterman scooped it up and let his eyes travel down the list of names." He let the list drop back onto the desktop. "This is indeed awkward admission detective," he admitted, "but the girls on this list were all in the cohort that included Angel. All of their contracts with me expired over the course of three to four months. I regret to tell you that none of these girls are represented by me anymore." "You do realize that in my profession a coincidence of this type tends to be looked at as sort of suspicious don't you?" Mitch asked him. "Yes of course I do," Fetterman replied. "But we both know that the plain fact is that none of my girls are the kind who intends to be doing this sort of thing as a long term occupation you might say. Due to the nature of this business there is always a high turnover with escorts. And the name of my game has always been finding fresh faced talent to serve my clients interests. I know it appears suspicious but the truth is that none of my girls stay more than a couple of years with me. Some of them spend even less time than that if they're good earners. I've had several who managed to achieve their goals before that time and ask to be released from their contracts." "Is that so? Now that is something I didn't know," Mitch said in a surprised tone of voice that made it plain that he was not surprised at all. "If you don't mind telling me, where do most of your girls go once they leave your employ? Even with the precautions that you have for their well being it still can't be easy for them." Fetterman let a smile creep across his clean shaven features. "It's surprisingly less of a hardship for them than you might think detective," he said. "The girls that I employ are for the most part doing this sort of work for their own reasons. I don't go out seeking them, they come to me. They are under no illusions about the nature of my employment when they sign with me." "Some make it very plain that they are only doing this for money, while others quite enjoy the thrill of it. I don't judge them. They all have their reasons for agreeing to my facilitating their encounters. You know that as well as I do. And when the contract I have with them runs out then they tend to go back and pick up where they left off and the both of us are the better for it. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement and the next girl that is unhappy with how we run things around here well, that would be would be news to me. I can tell you that." "Then Marissa D'Angelo is gone solely because she finished her contract with you then? And you have no forwarding information you can give me?" Mitch asked. "Detective, I'm sorry to say that I do not carry such information on my person. But I will ask my receptionist to furnish you with such forwarding information as these ladies deigned to leave with us before you leave." Fetterman leaned forward and pressed the intercom. "Sandy would you please join us for a moment? Thank you." The door opened and the young woman that had buzzed him in earlier walked into the room. Fetterman handed her the list of names. "Sandy the good detective has a need to contact the former employees on this list. Be a dear and get what you can from the files for him." Sandy took the list and bustled out of the office. "It will take her a little time to look up what we have on file detective. In the meantime can I have her bring you some refreshment? Coffee perhaps?" "No that won't be necessary," Mitch said. "While we're waiting perhaps you can tell me a little more about Angel's departure. I know that none of your girls drive. How did she leave when she finished her time here?" "That's simple enough to answer detective," Fetterman said. "She departed in the same fashion all of the girls in my employ depart when their time with me is complete. One of my long term employees ensures that they are conveyed safely to the airport and then they return to whatever it is that they lay aside when they needed to seek my employment in the first place." "And in the case of Marissa D'Angelo, who was it that escorted her then?" "I'm afraid I can't recall just yet, but if you truly need to know I can ask Sandy if she recalls that information." "Please do," Mitch said. Fetterman touched the intercom again. "I'm sorry to disturb you Sandy but do you by chance recall if Mr. Walnut or Mr. Salvador was responsible for escorting Ms. D'Angelo to the airport when she left my employ?" "Not right away Mr. Fetterman," she answered, but if you need that information I can check and see which of them was tasked with assigned that duty for that time." "Please do and include it on the list of information that you are compiling for the good detective if you would." "If he's here now I'd like to speak with him," Mitch said, "Maybe he recalls something she said that would help me locate her." "Of course, if we can be of any assistance to our good friends in the Stafford police department then we are at your service," Fetterman answered. Fetterman stood up and walked slowly to the bar that was flush with the wall. He opened the sliding door and started pouring himself a whiskey in one of the shot glasses that he fished from the shelf with a slight flourish. "I know you are on duty detective but if you care to indulge I promise it will remain between the two of us." "No thank you, Mr. Fetterman," Mitch said maintaining his non committed tone. "Suit yourself, the time it takes Sandy to complete this will still be the same," he said moving back behind the desk and sitting down again. "Tell me detective, should you locate Angel what will you do if she refuses to speak with you. Material witnesses can be quite uncooperative at times I understand." "Mr. Fetterman, I hope it doesn't come to that, but if necessary I will swear out a warrant to bring her in over this matter," Mitch said to him. "I don't think that will be necessary at all detective," Fetterman said. "Warrants are what one uses with those who have something to hide. I certainly don't think that Angel falls under that category. I'm sure she will be quite cooperative when you speak with her." "I certainly hope so," Mitch said as the receptionist/secretary Sandy entered the room again with a printed list. "I'm sorry Mr. Fetterman; I wasn't able to get contact information on some of the girls the detective wants to speak to." "That's alright Sandy," he said taking the list from her. "I'm sure the good detective appreciates the efforts that you have made. Where you able to check on which of the gentlemen might have taken Ms. D'Angelo to the airport when she departed?" "It was Mr. Walnut," she said immediately. "Ahh, thank you then Sandy," He said, "That will be all for now." Sandy turned and left the room closing the door behind her. Fetterman leaned over and extended the list to Mitch. "I'm sorry detective, but it appears that we do not have a listing for further contact with Angel, but I will ask some of the other ladies who were friendly with her before her departure. Perhaps some of the may have knowledge of how you may arrange to speak with her." "And Mr. Walnut?" Mitch asked. "Regrettably, Mr. Walnut is not on the premises at this time. I will instruct him to speak with you as soon as I see him. Is there anything else you may require detective?" Mitch rose from the chair and folded the paper and then placed in his inside pocket. "Not at present, Mr. Fetterman," He said, "But please impress on Mr. Walnut the urgency of speaking with me as soon as possible. I can be reached through the precinct switchboard." "I will endeavour to do so Detective," Fetterman said. Mitch had gotten to know quite a few of the men who gravitated to pimping as a means of earning and he had to say that, while many of them tried to pass off what they were doing as some kind of legitimate business; only Fetterman had actually succeeded in carrying it off in a believable manner. Not for the first time he thought Fetterman would have been a pretty good interrogator. He didn't come at you in the open and instead used his conversation to lull you until you let slip something that might seem inconsequential, but would in time start to shine more light than you intended to allow him to shine on matters. Even knowing that about him Mitch found it a challenge to leave here without giving up more than he did. That's the thing that people who didn't know Fetterman didn't think about. He ran as much on information as he did on what his girls were doing for him. He was like a vacuum cleaner always snatching up little scraps and tucking them away until he could make sense of them or they could be useful in some way. As the door closed behind him and he began walking down the stairs he realized that Fetterman had done it to him again. He had made Mitch feel like he was the one being interrogated and that he was the one who had something to hide. Every time he spoke on the surface he looked like he was just trying to comply, but even as he did so he was probing. Even with his polite exterior to mask it, Mitch was sure that Fetterman was absolutely aware of how much that finding and speaking with Marissa D'Angelo meant to him now. He didn't like the feeling that he had right now; that feeling that he had just walked into an elaborate stage play but the thing was that he couldn't point to anything that suggested otherwise. Fetterman's response had, as it usually did, cast just enough doubt on things. If he tried to point to anything else all that he could say was that he had been absolutely cooperative and polite. That he knew it was a mask was irrelevant. If there was any reason for him to come back here he wasn't going to come alone. It was too easy for Fetterman to do what it was that he did when you were by yourself and he should have remembered that. ------------------------------------ "Did he give you anything worthwhile?" Jim asked. Mitch shook his head and dropped the papers on the corner of his desk. "I'm not sure yet," he said. "The forwarding information that he did have was sketchy and that's being generous and I won't know how solid it is until I run through it." "You think he's running you around?" Jim asked "If he is I've still got to check it all out Jim, for all I know Fetterman is just a bystander in this. Won't know if I don't look. Mitch looked at Jim and shrugged. "Just another fun filled day in the glamorous life of a detective." "Ain't that the truth?" Jim said. "So how has your end of things played out?" he asked. "I've asked around as quietly as a could," Jim said. "I've managed to put together a partial list of the files that Clayton scooped up when she went through the department rearranging everyone's case load." "And?" Mitch asked. "I think you might be right," he said. "I think that Clayton is running the cross check herself. All of the files she scooped up are prime candidates for being connected to the same person or group if that's what is going on." "Are you sure about that?" Mitch asked. "Positive," Jim said. "When she hoovered up all of those files she left the ones that didn't fit the profile out in the open." "Which ones were those?" Mitch asked. "Missing teens, missing children, women who've disappeared are all out there in everyone's hands still. But cases involving young men turning up missing are all gone. She's got them," Jim stated. "You think she saw something?" Mitch asked. "If she has she's playing it close to her vest for now. I think we should let her do whatever she's doing and see how it plays out." "Where does that leave you?" Mitch asked. Jim gestured at the computer on his desk. "I thought I'd go back to the beginning. Work on it from that end. That way if she comes to us we have something to bring to the table." "Sounds workable," Mitch said. "How are you going to do it?" "I thought I'd start with a location search," Jim said. "I know she said that it was probably a waste of time, but I still think that there might be something there. I've got the program set up to run an aerial view and then I'll see if something jumps out at me." Mitch nodded and told Jim that if he found Jimmy Hoffa to make sure that he clued him in. Jim favoured his partner with a glare and turned back to the program search parameters. As he focused on that he heard Mitch sit down at his desk and start in on Gregor's files again. ------------------------------------- Jim leaned forward and started to slowly increase the area of the map. The computer had just recalculated all of the locations based on current information. The problem was that when it did that it resized the screen back to where it was when it began. The mouse cord pulled up short and without thinking about it he gave it a slight tug in his irritation over it doing that right now. "Shit!" he spat, realizing to late that the reason for the hitch in range of motion of the mouse was because the edge of his coffee cup was sitting on a loop of mouse cord. A loop of mouse cord that when suddenly pulled free destabilized the Styrofoam cup that contained his oily nasty coffee. Coffee that was now flooding all over his desk soaking into the papers and already waterfalling over the edge and dripping down onto the floor below. "Goddamn it!" he said hurriedly standing up and snatching the pile of paperwork out of the spreading pool of coffee That only made things worse, once he had taken the papers out of the liquids path it then rushed over to join the stream of coffee that was waterfalling and now was spattering not only the floor but his shoes as well. Mitch had looked up when he first started swearing. He took in the situation in a moment and pushed his own collection of paperwork to one side. He reached down into his desk and pulled open the big bottom drawer and fished a half used roll of paper towels out of it. He handed it over to Jim. "And that is why I don't use those crappy Styrofoam cups," he said smugly. Jim took the paper towels and stripped a long chain of them off before wadding them up and tossing the roll back to Mitch. He started blotting the spilled coffee up and made a disgusted face as the warm liquid soon overwhelmed the papers ability to soak it up fully. "Now I'm gonna have to go and get a mop for this crap," he said stepping over the pool of coffee. "You're gonna have to get a wet towel while you're at it. That's gonna be sticky as hell when it dries, Mr. three sugars and wave the cream at it." "Bite me Mitch," he retorted. "Andrea says I can't do that anymore Jim, so can't help you there. You sure you don't need some help some other way?" Mitch said. "Check those papers that got splashed would you? I'm pretty sure that the damage isn't that bad, but I'm not positive," Jim flung the mass of wet paper in the wastebasket to join Mitch's hill of Styrofoam cups and went down to the janitorial closet on the far side of the room. Sure he could always call for the custodian, but that seemed like a waste of time to him; he could have this mess cleaned up long before one of the staff would even get up here and besides he had to wipe down the coffee off of his shoes as well. The lucky thing was that it had only splattered on the surface of the leather and hadn't reached his socks. He cleaned off the sticky brown residue, that would have to do he realized. There wasn't that much else that could be done with them right now. He rinsed out the cloth and passed it quickly over the soles of his shoes. The last thing he wanted was to feel that sticking sensation of dried sugar while he was walking around the rest of the day and looking at them now he was certain that he was going to have to bust out the kiwi when he got home as well and touch up the finish on them. That damned spill had completely ruined the shine. Jim rinsed out the rag again and soaked another as well; it would probably take two of them to deal with the mess. One to finish cleaning it up and another clean one to completely remove whatever sticky reside that was waiting for him if he didn't. He dunked a mop into a bucket of cleaning water and started to steer the whole thing across the room to his desk. He hoped that the spilled coffee hadn't gotten into his mouse or keyboard while he was fetching the mop and bucket. That would be a real pain in the ass if it did. Mitch was perched over his desk when he returned, he hadn't even looked at the papers that he asked him to watch out for. Just as well he supposed. He thought he had snatched them away fast enough that the only thing that was likely to have happened was the edges would just have a brown coffee stain when they dried and if any of them were really ruined it wouldn't be an absolute tragedy anyway, they were mostly copies and not originals. He never worked with originals more than he had to anyway and even if it would be annoying to get more copies it wasn't like they were irreplaceable. "Hey Mitch," he called as he pushed the mop bucket up to the desk, "I never asked you before, just why do you even bother getting any Styrofoam cups at all? Wouldn't it be easier to just take your cup up there in the first place?" Mitch didn't say anything to him; he was still staring at Jim's monitor screen. "Hey Mitch..." he called again. "Jim, you need to look at this," he said in a hollow voice. Jim plunged the mop down into the strainer and dropped the wet end into the pool of coffee and then tossed the wet cloth towels on the wet part of his desk. He moved around where Mitch was standing and looked over his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and froze. The zoom out command was still being followed during his whole spill and now it had expanded until there was an extreme high altitude image of Stafford being displayed there. What made Jim's heart skip a beat at the sight was the overlay map that was displayed as well. He had been matching all of the missing person's data and trying to cross check it citywide to see what kind of pattern if any might exist. He'd found a pattern all right and looking at it he was starting to wish he had not. "That can't be right, there's too many," Jim said. Mitch reached over and made a screenshot and then hit print. He closed it out and hustled over to get the now printing page. "We need to see Singh now," he whispered urgently as he tried not to draw attention that he was trying to get to the copier before anyone else saw what was printed on it. ----------------------- Greenlawn Cemetery, Stafford: Day 46, 1400 hours The afternoon had promised to be hot and sticky and like so many summer days in Stafford during this time of year it delivered with interest. The heavy blue serge of his uniform coat managed to not only wick every particle of sweat from him, it managed also to shield it from drying. The result was that while the coat became damper and more uncomfortable to wear, even the slightest breeze was unable to pierce it and cool the wearer in any marginal way. The early afternoon sun beat down on the little group and Armin Singh tried to ignore how uncomfortable he was while maintaining a stoic expression. He was not the only one doing so. The group here to represent the Stafford P.D. was doing much the same as he was; if for no other reason than any other expression was disrespectful of the occasion. In its own way focusing on what he was doing like this was an aid to him. As much as he felt discomfort from the environment around him at least it gave him something to focus on other than the reason he was there. The day's heat did more than just cause his own level of personal discomfort to rise. It heated the fabric making his uniform smelled faintly of mothballs; it usually did since he rarely had reason to wear his police dress uniform. Most of the time it remained in his closet sealed in the plastic dry cleaners bag from the last time it was needed, but under the right conditions the smell came back more strongly. It didn't really have to be this way, part of the reason that it was so hot was that the fabric was stiffer than the regular suit he normally wore and not for the first time he wished that the ones responsible for setting the dress standards had factored climate into their decision rather than tradition. Because it spent so long in storage between uses mothballs were not the only odor that he needed to contend with now that he was required to use it once again. It also smelled faintly of dry cleaning chemicals as well; fitting in its own way since that was a scent that he associated with what he was doing now. Lt. Clayton was standing silently on his right; her dress uniform was more well worn than his, since she had more reason to wear it regularly. She did not look any more comfortable than he did though. The look on her face was identical to his; a conscious effort to maintain a countenance that projected control and firmness as well. He hardly needed to look in her direction to be certain that they were not the only ones there doing that. "I am going to nail these pricks to the wall," she said to him in a furious nearly noiseless whisper. "Nobody touches one of us and gets away with it," she spat bitterly. "Do control your anger, Lieutenant," Singh whispered back to her. "Words do carry, even here. This is neither the time nor the place. Remember we are here on other business today. Dealing with the reason for that business is work for another day." "I know that Singh," she said, "But this is something I never want to do again and every time I say that I know that it's only a matter of time before here I am standing for the same reason saying the same sentiment." The memorial service itself had not been held at St. Agatha's as was the usual practice for the department. Instead the family had arranged for it to be held in the smaller chapel of McClutchin's funeral home. In keeping with the deceased wishes it had been a short gathering and a brief memorial service. The department chaplain, a local minister who also held a position as a department auxiliary began with his invocation and in keeping with the family's wishes kept it mercifully short. Singh sat in the fourth row alongside others in the department and remained in respectful silence while the minister finished his remarks and was followed then in turn by the chief of police. What he had to say at this occasion was what anyone under the circumstances would expect to hear from him and he, like the minister, kept his remarks short as well. After the chief had completed his eulogy he had stepped down and resumed his place in the gathering. What words that needed saying were said and standing with the other gathered mourners Singh watched as the Navy detachment slowly enter the room. The honor guard marched in well drilled movement toward the coffin. As they approached it one moved to the right while the one behind moved to the left until the short column was divided equally with three on each side. Once the detail was in place they halted and then faced left. At each end the outer sailors reached over and together they tucked the ends of the flag in for transport. More hushed orders were given and the men bent slightly at the knees to remain as upright as possible while they lifted the flag draped polished wood in a single taut movement. "Right face...forward march," the petty officer ordered in a hushed tone of voice and the six men turned toward the exit to carry the casket to where it would be loaded for transport. As they departed with slow steps the officer in charge saluted and held it until it had passed out of the door. The whispered commands could be heard from where Singh sat quite clearly; nothing was as loud as a whisper was when all around was still. The pallbearers had lifted it with minimal motion and after they had taken it in hand they turned and bore it silently with measured step to the waiting hearse. Once they had departed the group broke up and prepared as well to leave. Singh rode in one of the other mourner's cars to Greenlawn cemetery and then he separated himself from the crowd of gathered mourners to take his place near the others from the department and wait respectfully and silently. Clayton soon joined him as well, remaining by his side for the rest of the service. When the funeral procession had reached the burial plot the same careful process the burial detail had exercised to place the casket inside the hearse was repeated when they removed it. Singh watched silently as the detail reached the graveside and then slid the casket onto the stand that would hold it in place until it was ready to be lowered one final time. The flag draped coffin now in place, Lt. Clayton left Singh's side. She had been the one chosen by the department to speak at the graveside. She managed to make it through the remarks that she had prepared. Like those who spoke at the funeral home she kept them short, but the words she spoke brimmed with emotion barely kept in check by the time she finished. The minister took his place to offer a final benediction while she slipped silently back into the crowd and returned to Singh's side. The two men at the nearest edge of the casket begin to pass the colors down the line of hands until each of the six men were holding them loosely. They took a half step back drawing the fabric tight and paused. As the flag detail held it taut and level in position the hushed orders from the petty officer in charge of the honor guard carried louder to the listener's ears than a shouted order would have. "By squad... fire three volleys," the officer said to them. "By squad...attention," The line of men and women stiffened. "Take arms," As one they swiftly kneeled and picked up the rifles that were laid muzzle toward the gravesite. "Blank ammunition...load," There was a faint metallic clicking as they loaded the ammunition magazines into the weapons and waited. "Ready...aim..." he said and the line of sailors half turned and raised the rifles to the sky as one and held them in an identical angle. "Fire," he said and the seven rifles barked as one. As the barking crash shattered the stillness there were soft choking sobs heard from the gathered mourners, but Singh could not tell which of them had voiced them. The petty officer repeated the order twice more and at the final command the rifles barked one last time and were silent. "Present...arms," There was the slapping of hands moving swiftly into position on black plastic from the honor guard as they moved their rifles vertically and held them there magazine outward while the right hand of the officer in charge at the graveside snapped to his brow and held it there. Moments later Singh heard the first notes of taps sounding slow and mournful. Those in uniform both military and civil held their salute while it sounded and then it was over. The last notes died away the assembled group heard the ensign give the firing detail the command to order arms. "Port arms... Order arms... Parade rest." The men shifted their rifles and then came to position with their left hand behind them, resting in the small of their backs with their legs spread apart slightly even with their shoulders. While the rifles spoke the men standing at the foot of the coffin continued to hold the national colors taut between them. But once the last notes from taps trailed off they began to swiftly, reverently fold the flag they had taken from the coffin until it was at last packaged in the triangular shape for presentation. The petty officer gravely took the folded flag turned and slowly placed it between the two hands of the chief petty officer standing next to him. Once he had done so he saluted and held it a moment and then allowed his hand to slowly return to its place by his side. His duty complete, he faced inward toward the men who had remained at attention during this entire process. While the folded flag was borne to be passed to the Lieutenant in command and handed over to him; the petty officer led the six men who had served as pallbearers away from the graveside with silent slow measured steps. At the same time the honor guard behind them also silently faced to the right and moved away from the crowd. Singh, like all the others in the department had echoed his movements in time with the military commands when they were given. His white glove was an indistinct blur in the corner of his eye as he held the salute. The lieutenant, after receiving the folded flag, carried it carefully and kneeled where Andrea Travers was seated facing the center of the casket before placing the folded cloth in hers. Singh was far enough from them that he couldn't hear the words spoken, but he knew what they were. The naval lieutenant finished speaking and laid his hand on hers in sympathy before rising and saluting her. Andrea clutched the folded colors. She had barely made an audible response the entire time. The lieutenant moved away his duty done. The casket began to slowly lower into the earth, while it did so the burial detail had returned to attention and held a last salute until it passed under the earth. Andrea Travers watched hollow eyed and as its upper edge passed out of sight her shoulders bent down until she was folded in half in the chair and there she slowly rocked back and forth while sobs shuddered through her wracking her frame with the force her grief. The emotions she had kept in check thus far she surrendered to and the dam holding them back and was finally breached allowing her tears to flow unchecked. Family close to her leaned in and clutched her to them. The crowd of mourners waited out of respect until she gathered enough composure to rise from her chair and then waited as her family escorted her away. Only when did the crowd begin to disperse did the cemetery workmen began to remove the graveside materials that had briefly concealed the raw earth of the grave and prepare to finish the burial. Out of respect they would wait until most of the gathered mourners had departed before moving to fill in the grave itself. Singh lingered with Lt. Clayton as the men moved through their task. "What time is Detective Brighton's service?" he asked her. It was a question that he already knew the answer to, but he needed something to say and those words would serve as well as any others. "Jim's service is at four o'clock tomorrow," she said, "We should get going," Singh walked with her silently back to the car. In the distance a meadowlark started singing as if it had been waiting for the noisy humans to leave before letting the world know where it was. ------------------------------- --- Fourth Precinct: Day 46, 2000 hours The only good thing that Singh could say about the entire day was that Pantra's cocoon had finally showed a glimmer of movement within for the first time since Singh had taken her from the ICU. When he had returned from Mitch's funeral he had gone directly to his office and locked the door behind him. The bottle of scotch that he kept now sat on his desk and he was nursing the only drink he had poured from it still. He didn't intend to have more than he'd already poured and he really should put the bottle back in the deep desk drawer where he kept it, but he had no inclination to do so. Outside his closed office door there was little sound and less indication that many others were here now. It was as if the loss of two of their own had muffled even the normally quiet evening sound of the station. As he took a slow measured sip of the scotch there was a faint hint of sound as the silk that made up Pantra's cocoon flexed again, but it was only a single movement and it was over almost as soon as it happened. It was still a promising sign for Singh though, after the last couple of days he'd take any good news that he could get. He leaned back into the leather of his chair and looked at the room around him, the smoke from his cigarette curling up in grey-blue coils where he held it in his fingertips. The pair of chairs opposite his desk sat empty in front of him and seeing them staring back at him he couldn't help thinking of what Detective Travers had told them both the last time they met here. Singh was certain that the two of them being taken in this fashion was no accident. There was no random encounter with fatal results as the evidence suggested. That was a cover he was certain, just as he was certain that it was all tied to this investigation and sitting there in the dark he was starting to grasp the outlines of just what that might be. ------------------------------- Fourth Precinct: Day 40, 1700 hours Mitch was even more agitated when Jim met him to meet with Singh than he had been when he had seen him last. He was waiting for him as he exited onto the floor and immediately drew him aside and told him to not ask anything until they were in Singh's office. His eyes were constantly moving as they walked like he was looking for something that shouldn't be there and he expected it was anyway. Jim had rarely seen him like this and all down the walk down the hallway to Singh's office he was trying to figure out what it could possibly be that could rattle his partner the way he was now. It had to be something big. When Mitch said that they needed to speak with Singh Jim had thought that he had meant immediately, but instead he had delayed the meeting until now. When Jim asked him why he clammed up and only would say that he had to be sure before they spoke with Singh. Getting hold of Singh was becoming easier. With the negotiations over the status of the Grove finally winding down and expected to be resolved soon, more and more of the day to day operations were being shifted out of his hands in preparation for ending the FRT involvement in Stafford. Singh's time was more evenly divided between his office in the fourth precinct and the ACC now and they had needed to wait until he was here to do this. Mitch had made sure to emphasize that they needed to have this meeting in Singh's precinct office for this. When he called Jim and told him that they were meeting Singh today he had made certain that Jim understood that he needed to go directly there and nowhere else without speaking to anyone. As he passed by the other officers in the hallway he was hoping that whatever it was it might be the break they had been fruitlessly looking for and wondered if it was as really as serious as Mitch's behavior seemed to indicate that it was. They reached the door and Mitch opened it and waved Jim inside before he stepped in after him and closed it. Jim heard the lock on the door click behind him and then Mitch moved quickly to take his seat. Singh was already there waiting for them hunched over his desk when they opened the door. Pantra was still in the cocoon she had spun when she was injured. It had been over three weeks since Singh had brought her to stay with him when she was released from the ICU at Mercy and now that he was spending more time back at the precinct the cocoon sat suspended above the miniature futon she kept in the office from gossamer strands that reached out from the cocoon itself and fastened in the surrounding walls. Jim had asked if Singh had any information about how long she would be in there, but, even Singh wasn't sure how much longer that would be. Jim looked up to Mitch as he finished making sure that no one could enter and disturb them before they were finished. "Jim," he said gravely as he sat down. "What I'm about to say can't go beyond the people in this room. Not yet." "This sounds pretty serious Mitch," Jim said leaning back in his chair and focusing all his attention on his partner. Mitch wasn't given to exaggeration, nor was he inclined to jump at something that wasn't there. If he was saying this in this fashion, then there was a damned good reason. "What have you got?" "Not yet Jim," he said turning to Singh. "I need to know if there is anything that you can do with your mojo that can keep us private for this Singh." "Just a moment, if you would detectives. If this is as serious as you are suggesting then you are right that we should exercise caution. Fortunately there is something that I can do that will buttress the security of our conference before we begin," Singh said and closed his eyes in concentration. Both Jim and Mitch waited for him to finish whatever he was doing before continuing. Singh's eyes opened again. They held the faint glow that the two men had already started to find familiar when he did something like this. Singh exhaled. "It's done now," he said. "Now no one can spy on us while we confer over this information that detective Traver's needs to impart to us." "What did you do?" Jim asked knowing he had done something but he couldn't tell what it was. "I raised a ward, detective Brighton. A very special kind of ward. Until I drop it anyone who tries to scry out what we are doing will hear a very different conversation. Just a precaution I felt is necessary given the urgency that Detective Travers has demonstrated just now about what he has uncovered." "And what's that Mitch?" Jim asked turning to his partner. Mitch drew out a piece of paper from his briefcase and laid it down on the desk. "Meet Joshua Oliver," he said. Jim looked down at the paper. It was a Department of Defense record. He'd seen them frequently enough in past investigations that he didn't have to look into the maze of print for very long to find the information he was looking for. "Oliver, Joshua L," he read. "27 years old, served a four year enlistment with the army, honorable discharge, transferred to inactive ready reserve afterward," Jim laid it down again on the table. "Okay, how does Mr. Oliver connect with us?" Mitch pulled out another paper and laid it down. Jim looked it over seeing the familiar layout of a Stafford P.D. arrest record. "So Mr. Oliver also has a record I see," Jim said. "Assault and battery, DUI, public intoxication. Mostly low level stuff. Oliver has had a bit of trouble adjusting to civilian life," Mitch said hitting the highlights of the rap sheet. "I can see that," Jim said looking over the paper. "But most of these charges are about two years old. Looks like he got through it and made his peace with it from what you're showing me," Jim said. "It looks that way, but it's not," Mitch said. Jim looked up sharply at Mitch and then back at the two photos on the printouts. "You think he might be our guy then? This shadowy man that keeps cropping up? That he went quiet because he's wrapped up in our missing person's problem?" "Not quite, Jim," Mitch said pulling out another arrest record and laying it down. It was for a young woman in her late twenties. "Marissa D'Angelo, also known as Marissa the Angel," Mitch said. "This one I know about personally. My ex-partner in vice busted her a few times for solicitation and prostitution earlier this year. For a while she was in and out of lockup so much that she almost had a regular bunk there." "How do you mean had?" Jim asked. "She disappeared about two months ago. Before that she was being picked up anywhere from three to five times a week and then it was almost like she couldn't go outside of the door without being hauled in. Until the last time she is picked up. She gets released same as always and then she disappears. It looks like it just got too hot for her on paper and instead of dealing with it here it appears that she's pulled up stakes and left. Nobody knows in vice knows where and nobody cares," Mitch said. "Not exactly strange," Jim said. "We both know hookers are like the wind, here one month gone the next as soon as it starts heating up for them. Pimps trade them all the time when they get too hot for their territory." "Exactly. Which brings us to this," Mitch said pulling out another sheet of paper. This time a coroner's report. Jim picked it up. "Jane Doe #4968, found deceased in an alley six weeks ago. What of it?" "I found this in that pile of information that assistant M.E. Gregor dug up and documented. Look at her closely Jim," Mitch said. Jim took the enlarged photo of the elderly street vagrant and looked it over again before handing it back to Mitch. "Whatever it is, I'm not seeing it Mitch. What am I looking for?" he asked. Mitch laid the enlarged photo of the Jane Doe's face next to the one of Marissa D'Angelo. "It's the same woman. Jim," Mitch said. "You're going to have to walk me through this Mitch," Jim said. Because I don't see how this woman..." he gestured at the photo of Marissa, "And this one is the same person without mixing sixty something years into the equation." "It's her," Mitch said "I'm positive of it. I've seen her getting booked enough times that I can see her the way she was and recognize her in that woman's face now." "I'll grant you there's a physical resemblance..." Jim started to say, but he was interrupted by Mitch before he could finish. "The prints are the same Jim. Marissa and the Jane Doe both have the same prints," Mitch said. "You're certain?" Jim asked. "Positive", he said pulling out enlargements of both women's prints from out of his case. "And there's more." Mitch pulled more enlarged prints and laid them down side by side under each photo. "They're all the same prints. All of these print records match hers and they all belong to Joshua Oliver." While Jim digested what Mitch was saying he continued laying out what he had. "Are you certain?" he asked. "I mean 150 percent absolutely nail me to a cross if I'm wrong certain?" "The only record of Marissa D'Angelo anywhere is her arrest record in Stafford. She showed up two years ago, peddled her ass during that time and then she disappears. I've already sent inquiries in to other departments regionally and no one has arrested a Marissa D'Angelo with these prints for anything since she disappeared. She doesn't exist anymore because seven or eight weeks ago that old woman she turned into died in an alley and she wasn't found for a couple of weeks afterward. No one connected it because no one cares about whores and vagrants." "So why didn't her prints pull up Oliver's file when they ran them the first time she was busted then?" Jim asked. "That should have stood out like a giant red flag." "They did," Mitch said. "But they were filtered out of the search results. The requesting officer specified a female with those prints. Oliver's military record and his arrest record both came up with the first request as a hundred percent match on the prints and a fifty percent match on the entered data, but because the match wasn't right they were filtered out; nobody saw them. And after that the top result returned was just her record for prostitution and that's what everyone stopped at. But Oliver's prints still came up every time her prints were run each time after that. I already checked the remaining computer records in the log and confirmed that." "So to make sure that I wasn't getting a false positive I did an unspecified print match request. No parameters, but the prints themselves and the computer spit all four of these out as a one hundred percent match." "Joshua Oliver isn't our guy, Jim," Mitch pointed to Oliver's military photo and slowly swept his hand across the table ending up over the Jane Doe. "He's one of our missing persons and nobody even suspected it. Two years ago something got hold of him and it didn't let go until he was her," Mitch's finger stabbed at the Jane Doe's photo for emphasis. "I don't think he's the only one either. We were looking at the wrong thing the wrong way. We don't have a missing person's problem in Stafford Jim. We've got some kind of a serial killer." -------------------------------- "Jesus Christ!" Jim said looking at the photos. "Are you certain about this Mitch?" "I've never been as certain about a set of facts in a case as I am about these ones Jim. And there's a lot more." Mitch pulled more files out of his case and started laying them on the table in small piles of paper. When he stopped there were almost twenty of them perched there covering the wood of Singh's desk. "Once I knew what to look for the computer started spitting them out like a kid with a mouthful of watermelon seeds. Most of those Jane Doe's that Gregor identified matched an open missing person's investigation and here's the thing. Some of these are cold cases. There are a couple in there that match the ones on the departments case load right now, but there are others that have been sitting in the system for years." "How many years?" Jim asked. "These ones," Mitch said, "are the ones with the fastest turnaround time. They average about eight months since they first went missing. They were taken, the family files a missing persons report but no one ever finds them. The trail goes cold. Meanwhile, a new hooker shows up and she flies under the radar for a while and then she starts racking up an arrest record." "She doesn't take long to have a pretty well established presence and then she disappears and isn't seen again. But nobody cares because she's just another whore and without a body to tie to her pimp no one is going to be looking for her. And without anyone noticing it an elderly Jane Doe turns up soon after that and gets processed through the morgue. She gets the bare minimum because no one bothers to look any deeper than they need to; the body goes up in smoke and that's all there is to it." "These ones," he said indicating the other stacks of paper, "follow the same pattern but they take longer to do it. Some go from initial disappearance to Jane Doe in around two years, same as Oliver. A few last longer. The longest run of any of those I could find was almost four years before they turn up in an alley. But they all end up there no matter if it's sooner or later." "You said that you matched them all to missing prostitute's right?" Jim asked. "Every time," Mitch answered. "Which stable? Have you run a comparison for outstanding cases to hookers being picked up by the department now?" Jim asked. "That was the next thing I did," Mitch said. "As soon as I went through what Gregor gave us I started looking for other common factors and it didn't take long for one to wave right in my face. When I was pulling these ones that have gone through whatever cycle this is completely, something else also popped up that I wasn't expecting." "What was that?" Jim asked leaning forward towards Mitch already half suspecting that he knew what he was going to say. "All of these girls," he said indicating the files matched to a Jane Doe, "belonged to Fetterman." "Fetterman," Jim said quietly. "That's going to be trouble if what you're saying about this is as explosive as it looks like, you know that don't you?" "I think we can start to see why it's trouble Jim," Mitch said, "And there's more. Fetterman runs a stable of about twenty or so girls. High end market. Not one of them less than a thousand bucks a night. The people that he provides talent for don't like anyone looking too close at either them or their rentals. So they tend of make sure that Fetterman and his girls are mostly ignored and that's where it stays. Any investigation of Fetterman is as dead as one of those Jane Doe's. Until I started looking at it from this angle. When I did a print match using these parameters, the computer spit out about thirty-three more matches. All his girls and all of them are lambs." "Thirty-four?" Jim asked "That's more than twice the number of his girls on average. What about the rest? How many of them did you link to our missing persons logs?" "About twenty-two," Mitch said. "Only twenty-two?" Jim said, "That can't be right. Something's off with that. That's too much of a coincidence if that overlap is what you're suggesting it is. And if Fetterman's mixed up in this why don't all of them match missing person's cases?" "I'm thinking that has more to do with some of our missing person's cases not having any fingerprints on file at all before they came to our attention. As for the others they don't come to our attention until they get processed into the system the first time. Until then they are invisible as far as Stafford P.D. is concerned," Mitch said. "Look at the ones that did pop up; they all had a reason to be in the system for one reason or another. Military service records, previous run ins that got them arrested and in the system and one or two that had their prints on file when their parents enrolled them in kidnapping prevention programs when they were kids. But if they didn't have anything like that, the first the system knows about them is when they get busted for solicitation and that is who the system says that they are after that." "And you're certain about the Fetterman connection Mitch?" Jim asked. "Absolutely Jim, every one of them has his mark on them when they take that first mug shot. It's right there in the photo and it's noted in the arrest record," Mitch said pointing to it. "And then there is this," Mitch pulled a transparency showing a scatter plot of his own out of another file and laid it onto a blank sheet of paper. "This marks where each of the Jane Doe's that I've identified were found. At first it didn't look like much. It seemed too random and I couldn't see any pattern. Not at first, and then I added this," Mitch reached into the folder that he had drawn the transparency out of and came out with another one. Mitch laid the second one over the first and began to merge them together. Singh and Jim watched as the two patterns aligned and when he stopped moving them there was a definite design that the two sheets created. Jim looked down and saw the clear unmistakable image of a rose. "That second one looks familiar Mitch," he said, "Where did you dig that one up?" "I didn't dig it up Jim," he said, "You did. That's the scatter plot that you ran across the other day when you were doing that location search and you spilled your coffee. Put them together and you get this. A location match to the disappearances and a record of where these Jane Doe's show up all over the city. All tied up into a fat flaming rose that looks too much like the one Fetterman marks his girls with for me to think it's just a coincidence. And here's another thing...they go back for decades." "Son of a bitch! That's why no one could ever find a pattern when we looked for it. We were only using half of the picture," Jim said. "But when I saw it before I said that there were too many. You snatched it away before I could get a good look at it." "I wanted to be sure before I told you I had the other half of this Jim. And you're right about there being too many here. That's why I suggested that you do an unspecified match request. When I ran my scatter plot to see if I had anything that would expand possible locations of special cases on the city map I pulled up the same thing you did. A tabulation of bodies that seemed too large for what we were looking at. When you isolated disappearances of males in the target range they matched without a specified date range this is what you got. And from what I can tell this cycle has been going on since the 1970's." "That can't be possible. Fetterman is in his 60's. He'd have had to gotten started in elementary school to match that date range," Jim said. "That was my thought as well, but from what I'm seeing here this tells a different story," Mitch answered. "So is it Fetterman himself do you think or is he just neck deep in it?" "That's the thing Jim," Mitch said, "I don't know. Fetterman doesn't like complications and if this is the case he may not know." "It would be a damned good explanation for why he keeps such a low profile, but the time frame doesn't support him being involved in this the way this suggests," Jim replied. "Maybe this shadowy man started doing this earlier? Maybe he is supplying Fetterman with his girls and he's the one going after them later on without anyone the wiser or maybe it's one of his enforcers. It might be Fetterman himself but right now I don't know. All I know is what is being suggested by what I have here. I don't have enough here to tell you right now. All I can tell you is that Fetterman is involved somehow. That and that whoever this is, the bastard can't help advertising what he's doing. He's practically waving a flag over the city and laughing at us for not seeing it." "Gentlemen," Singh interjected. "While I have heard this man's name during my tenure here, it does not have more than a passing familiarity with me. You both have obviously had greater experience with this individual and so I will need you to enlighten me somewhat concerning him." "He's a pimp," Mitch said, "But he's not an ordinary pimp. The girls he sells go to a higher level of john than your ordinary street walkers do. He's got influence that way because of who he markets them to. But he's not just a pimp, he's practically a clean pimp and you just don't find those." "His full name is Lucius Fetterman," Jim said, "And he keeps a low profile unlike other who run hookers. Some guys can't help but showboat. Fetterman just doesn't make waves and he's got connections. He's been doing this for years and he's probably the worst kept secret in the entire force," Jim said. He hadn't worked in vice like Mitch had, but he knew who Lucius Fetterman was. If you were in DSVD you had to be deaf, dumb and blind not to be aware of him. Every time a beautiful teen girl turned up missing there was always someone who mentioned that Fetterman's stable needed to be paid attention to in the next few weeks; just in case he suddenly acquired a new girl and was keeping her dark until no one was looking for her anymore. It was always a waste of time too. And anyone who had been a cop for any length of time in this city knew it. For one thing Fetterman stayed away from runaways and trafficked jailbait like they carried the plague. For another the girls in his stable were an entirely different order of magnitude of difference than the ones who were snatched and hopped up before being sold over and over again until they were used up and discarded. They had little in common with the runaways who started peddling the only thing they had that anyone wanted to buy when they got desperate enough. Fetterman's girls were something else altogether. There were three things about the girls in Fetterman's stable that made them different from the other prostitutes selling themselves across the city. Their beauty, their loyalty to him and the black rose tattoo that marked each of them as his. Fetterman's girls were all young and beautiful. He had no older prostitutes working for him like some other pimps did. And no matter how young his girls may look, none of them were anywhere close to being underage. So, any suggestions that he was involved with trafficked or runaway minors usually were dismissed almost immediately and even when an investigation veered in that direction it didn't take long to find out that wasn't going to pan out. The truth was that no one really knew where Fetterman got the girls that made up his stable from. The most common theory that floated around was that he recruited them from colleges and most of them only worked here for a couple of years before moving on. The general consensus was that he was a smooth talking operator that managed to convince those girls to walk away from what they were doing and when they had the money they needed they went back to that and were replaced by another. His selection was always fresh and as far as his clients were concerned always of high quality. They also were some of the cleanest girls that the department had seen as well. The run of the mill pimp used a lot of methods to control the girls that they sold. Some preferred violence, others leaned toward mental coercion and manipulation and most of them wouldn't hesitate to use drugs to keep their girls in line. While all of them leaned more heavily toward one method over the others, it was common for them to use all of them to varying degrees on their girls. But not Fetterman. His girls were clean. None of them had ever come up hot on any drug test on the infrequent times that processing them had made it that far in the system. They never were found to be using, transporting or selling any type of drug, heavy or social. Fetterman was almost puritanical about that. He also never laid hands on them or ordered anyone who enforced for him to do so. His girls just didn't end up in the emergency room with battered bodies or broken bones and during the infrequent times that one of them was admitted for treatment it was always the John's fault when something like that happened. Not a good idea for the John, in Jim Brighton's opinion. Fetterman didn't take kindly to renters abusing his property and there would be consequences for the idiot stupid enough to lay too heavy a hand on one of his girls. They also never did anything to draw attention to themselves. They didn't steal from clients, they never showed up in VD clinics and they never did anything to draw police attention to themselves. They showed up where Fetterman told them to go and did whatever it was that their John wanted, no questions asked. If they weren't hauled in for solicitation they would be invisible to the police. They were as close to model citizens as you could expect considering what it was that they did for a living. Even when the cuffs came out no arresting officer ever had the slightest hint of trouble. They didn't scream curses at the officer or make any attempt to resist. It was the same thing that happened with any of them and once they got to the station they sat quietly in their corner of lock up while they waited for Fetterman or one of his people to come and bail them out. A dozen department shrinks had tried to crack the wall of loyalty that his girls showed Fetterman over the years. Most of them believed that what the department was dealing with was not so much a prostitution ring, as it was some kind of a sex cult. It was the only thing that they had going for them to explain how fanatically devoted his girls were to Fetterman's interests and how tightly they closed down when outsiders tried to probe the inner workings of his organization. Since he didn't cause any other reason to draw their attention, the department itself didn't place a high priority on looking too deeply into that when it was suggested. Belonging to a cult wasn't illegal and his girls just didn't get into trouble the way other pimp's girls did so officially he was regarded as a low-level nuisance rather than a threat. The last thing that made them different was the tattoo. All of them had the same one. A black rose that started at their right wrist and wound around their forearm in a delicate serpentine fashion. It was delicate and at the same time harsh in its contrast. The thorny stem of the rose looked like barbed wire as it encircled the wrist and as it wound around the arm itself it did not seem so much like the path of a plant as it did the sinuous path of something venomous. The bloom of the rose itself was the only variation. On some of them the rose was small, barely a faint bud and on others the rose was more fully represented, spreading its petals across hollow of the flesh of each woman's inner arm. On one of them it would just be considered decoration, but on so many it was understood exactly what it was. Nothing more than a brand marking which of the girls in the city belonged to him. From time to time some rookie would come in and make waves with Fetterman. Usually it was simply and quietly dealt with. A new patrolman brings in one of the girls and they get booked. That didn't last too long. Fetterman had an understanding with someone higher up in the department's food chain and because of that his girls were mostly left alone. They wouldn't all be left alone though. Even with whatever influence that he had, Fetterman wasn't foolish enough to think that his girls could work with impunity. There were a select few of his stable that didn't get spit out unprocessed through the catch and release program that the department ran for him. Vice detectives called them the lambs. The lambs collectively were nothing more than the fig leaf that was presented so that the department could point to the record and say that his organization was paid as much attention to as any other pimp, even if that was not strictly true. There was usually any number of them ranging from as few as three to as many as a dozen. The lambs didn't get let go as quickly when they were brought in like the rest of Fetterman's girls. They were the ones who spent the most time in lockup and they had the longest records. Again, it was the tattoo that told you which one you had gotten if you were a desk sergeant and some rookie brought in one of Fetterman's girls. If the rose was small and delicate you kicked her to the curb as quickly and quietly as you could. It may not be in the book, but that was what happened. If she had a bigger bloom that was filled in with full detail, then she was a lamb. Every time someone started making rumbling noises about cleaning up the department in regard to the influence that Fetterman held those rumbles didn't last long. There were other more pressing concerns that ensured that the effort was redirected and even though there was no evidence as to who it was that was Fetterman's advocate in the department, it was clear there was someone at a high level that was looking out for his interests and no one wanted to butt their head against that particular wall when there was so little pay-out for doing so. --------------------------------- -- "When you checked the Jane Doe's did any of them have Fetterman's mark?" Jim asked. "That's the thing that threw me for a while," Mitch said. "I looked at Gregor's autopsy photos and there was no trace on any of the Jane Doe's. It's like it was never there. But there is no doubt in my mind that every one of them belonged to Fetterman before they ended up on an M.E.'s slab." "So the question is then, just how deep is Fetterman in this then?" Jim asked. "Impossible to say right now," Mitch said. "Like you said earlier, it may be whoever it is that is funnelling girls to him. That may be the one we're looking for. Fetterman himself may just be a cog in something that he doesn't know about. Him being wrapped up in a kidnapping and whatever this is that changes these missing men into these girls he gets is a little too high profile for him. And we both know how much he hates being in the spotlight." "Gentlemen, I think we need to take a step back," Singh said. "How so?" Jim asked. "Does this Lucius Fetterman resemble in outline the shadowy man?" he asked Mitch since Mitch had the most experience with Fetterman and his organization. "Absolutely not," Mitch said immediately. "Fetterman is an older man and he is much more heavy set than the person we saw in Selicia's vision and he doesn't match the one photo we have that shows his face that isn't hidden in shadow." "So at the very least we can exonerate Mr. Fetterman of not being the dark man in his own person. But his connection is too firm for it to be a coincidence. What about those he employs?" Mitch thought about it for a moment or two and then responded. "Fetterman keeps two guys that act as muscle around. Gentleman John and Walnut. They police the girls, escort them where they need to go and deal with troublemakers who think that the size of their wallet means they can play fast and loose with Mr. Fetterman's property." "Walnut?" Jim asked. "As in crush your head like a..." Mitch finished. "Walnut's actual name is Silas Finney. He's a bruiser no doubt about it. Almost seven feet tall and looks like he could pick up a VW Beetle and play 'what have I got in my hand?' with you." "And the other one?" Singh asked. "Gentleman John?" Mitch answered, "Of all of them he is the closest fit physically. Tall, slender but decent build for a guy that's not a gym rat. Face is close enough from what I can tell, but I can tell you also that it likely isn't him." "And how can you be certain?" Singh asked. "Because the minute Gentleman John opens his mouth the first thing you hear is pure south Miami Cuban flavoured English. The second thing is how polite he is. That's why they call him Gentleman John. His real name is Juan Salvador. Parents are Cuban exiles. They came in with the Mariel boatlift in 1980. No way it's him." "That does not eliminate them as being involved in this, only of being the individual for whom we are looking. And what about the fourth man?" Singh asked. "Fetterman doesn't have a fourth man," Mitch said. "He does not have one that we know of," Singh pointed out. "There could very well be a fourth associate of Mr. Fetterman who keeps to the shadows and if this person is the shadowy man we seek that would be a literal assessment." "So you think we're looking for something like Burke and Hare then?" Jim asked. "It could be," Mitch said. "Someone else is doing the dirty work and using his operation to conceal it." "Burke and Hare were grave robbers that turned to murder to get bodies to sell," Jim said, "Whoever this is has inverted that; selling the bodies sexually and then finishing off with murder with whatever it is that they do to them after they leave Fetterman's hands." "From what Selicia showed us, I think what we saw was a failed attempt. I think that if she hadn't had it happen that way we'd have another missing person's case that we couldn't crack and Fetterman would have ended up with another girl and no one would have been the wiser," Mitch said. "The question for us that we need to work out then is how is Fetterman involved? Is this shadowy man that Selicia showed us someone who works for him or not?" Jim said back to him. "Of that gentlemen I am unsure," Singh said to them. "From what you have said this Fetterman likes to remain unnoticed if at all possible and that does not seem to be the character of the creature that Selicia showed us. Whoever that is did not behave as someone who wished to remain unnoticed when he struck at her first in the aether and later in the material world. There is a connection but not necessarily that they are one and the same person." "Her account seems more of someone who is intent on consuming his victim and causing maximum fear and pain while he does so. This process that you have pieced together Detective Travers seems too drawn out to meet those needs in some part. This shadowy man doesn't seem the type to keep his victims in play for years at a time. Weeks certainly, but the longer that he has them in that position the more opportunities present themselves to the victim to escape and if he were indeed sending them to this man Fetterman the opportunities for escape increase as well. There is a connection here, but what that connection is does not match yet and we will need to dig much deeper before it does," Singh said to them. "I agree with you completely," Mitch responded. "And that's why I kept digging deeper. These girls belong to Fetterman, but it occurred to me that we might also be looking at something that is overlapping rather than connected." "In what way? Singh asked. "After I confirmed that Joshua Oliver was Marissa D'Angelo and Marissa D'Angelo was Jane Doe #4968, I considered that maybe someone was supplying girls to Fetterman this way and someone else was hunting them and they are not the same. I couldn't confirm anything but I had to consider that," Mitch said. "So what was your next step?" Jim asked. "Keep digging, trying to track one of the girls down that might prove that not all of Fetterman's girls ended up as elderly Jane Doe's. When I visited Fetterman he told me directly that Marissa D'Angelo had finished her contract with him and moved on. He said the same thing about each of the other girls I wanted to talk to as well. So I kept digging. A few days ago I got something I didn't expect." "What did you find?" Jim asked. "It's not what I found, it's what found me. Marissa D'Angelo called me," Mitch said. "And over the next few days several of the others that I asked to speak with followed suit." "But you said Marissa D'Angelo is dead," Jim said. "She is and so are the others that I spoke with, but she called me just the same. She claimed that one of her girlfriends who still works for Fetterman gave her my contact information and told her that I was looking for her."Mitch said. "How cooperative was she?" Jim asked, "As dead people go how cooperative would you say she was?" "Very, she backed up Fetterman's story to the letter. She said that she finished her contract over two months ago and that Walnut took her to the airport. She said she stayed with a friend of hers for about three weeks and then she boarded a ship for England." "England?" Jim said "Why England?" "According to her after she finished her contract with Fetterman she boarded the M.V. St. Sebastian and three weeks later landed in Southampton. She claims that the whole reason that she worked for Fetterman in the first place was to pay for her place in university there. She claims that she is supposed to be starting during the fall semester because she couldn't get there before then." "And do you believe her?" Jim asked. "Not for a moment. Marissa D'Angelo is dead. I've got comprehensive proof of that. But here's the kicker, when I was speaking with her I can also say that whoever I spoke with was Marissa D' Angelo. Her street name was Angel as in voice like an... Trust me if you heard her speak you would remember it. She has a really distinctive voice and whoever that woman that called me was, she sounded exactly like her." "Did you get anything on where she was calling from?" Jim asked. "Nothing conclusive, it was a British number. Purchased through Skype and I couldn't check the server location to confirm it, but that doesn't mean as much. A good VPN can mask location and a lot of people purchase Skype numbers that are not in that country." "What about the others? You said there were more," Singh interjected. "They called too, in dribs and drabs over the next few days. All variations of the same story. All of them finished up and moved on to bigger and better thing and all of them have traveled to Europe on the M.V. St. Sebastian." "All of them?" Jim said. "Now something is really starting to stink." "All of them. When I asked about it, they said that Fetterman arranged passage for them as part of their severance package. Apparently he has some sort of arrangement with the captain to take his girls there if that is where they want to go." "Well that's not fishy as hell is it?" Jim said. "Have you checked immigration?" "The first requests should be here in a couple of days. The others will probably trickle in over the next few. However it is managed, all of these girls' stories seem to check out on the surface." "How do you mean?" Jim asked. "U.S. customs did verify that a Marissa D'Angelo boarded the M.V. St. Sebastian on the day she said she did. Customs passed her out of the country. Three weeks later, the St. Sebastian docks in Southampton and presumably British customs clears her for entry. I'll know for certain when they get back with me. After that she disappears. Except for the phone call to me there is no other indication that Marissa D'Angelo exists after she entered the U.K." "What about the others?" Singh asked. "I'm still verifying their stories," Mitch said. "I focused on D'Angelo because I know for a fact that she is dead." "Somebody pretended to be her though," Jim said. "Whoever it was, it sounds like the whole reason for the call is to muddy the waters. Any idea who it might be?" "Maybe Fetterman's bottom bitch," Mitch answered. "Or maybe someone else entirely. Someone was pretending to be D'Angelo on that ship." "So where did she get her passport? Jim asked. "No way she's leaving officially or entering the U.K without that." "That's the other thing, her passport was recently issued. Same thing for each of the other girls on that list as well. So I did some more digging," Mitch pulled out another sheaf of papers and laid them on the desk. "Every one of Fetterman's girls that had a passport had to submit a birth certificate. I asked a connection of mine to look into it and he sent me these," Mitch said laying his finger on the papers. "All of them were listed as being born in one of these three towns. Wilcox corners, Tylersburg or Charity." "So did they match what was on file there?" Jim asked. "There was no file to compare it to," Mitch said, "All three of those towns no longer exist. They were flooded out when Lake Marris was filled in by the Army Corps of Engineers in 1974. The town's records were transferred to a storage area in the county seat. Then in 1979 a fire burns the place to the ground leaving nothing that can be salvaged." "So there is no telling when those birth certificates were actually issued then is there?" Jim said. "No, and no way of knowing if there was a death certificate to match the birth certificate." "Do any of Fetterman's current girls match like this?" Jim asked indicating the connection that Mitch had made with Oliver. "Not that I've found," Mitch said, "this might have been a one-off that was thrown together because I was sniffing around D'Angelo or it could be how all of them get explained. I just don't know. I have a search request in now trying to match his current stable with any birth certificates issued from those towns or any of the others that are at the bottom of that lake. I just haven't heard anything back yet." Mitch turned to Singh. "Is that enough or do you think we need more before we kick this up to the next level?" "There's still a lot left for us to nail down, but I think we have enough right now to take to Clayton and bring her into what we have discovered. We may not have all of the pieces, but we have the border of this puzzle together now and to fill it in we're going to need a lot more resources committed to doing that. Gregor has linked the Jane Doe's to Fetterman and Selicia may link this Shadowy man to Fetterman as well." "Fetterman's organization is involved with practices that suggest deep involvement. Whatever there is in between this we're in a better position than what we had before we made this connection. And there are the ones that I've identified as alive that are on the street right now to consider. We need to get those girls under surveillance and keep officers right under their skin in case whatever it is doing this moves against them and they end up as another Jane Doe. And to do that we need Clayton on board. Hell we'll need a whole damned task force to tackle this," Mitch said. "And what will we do then Detective Travers?" Singh asked. "If the Shadowy man that Selicia linked to these disappearances is captured what then? Can he be imprisoned? And if so will he remain so? The problem is that we need more information to aid us in resolving this matter and we cannot approach this from a pure police perspective. Limiting our efforts in that manner may be too much of a barrier to putting an end to whatever this is." "That almost sounds like you want to step away from this for now, or are you thinking that this might need to have a more final resolution than arresting whoever is responsible?" Jim asked. "At this point detective Brighton I have no answer for you. And as for a more final resolution that will depend on what Arath' Mahar Selicia decides. If we find him I have a promise to keep and considering the potential nature of what we have discovered it may be the only resolution that we could find," Singh said to them. "But detective Travers is correct that whatever effort is committed to this matter needs to be wide ranging and it will involve much more than the three of us alone can manage. The good lieutenant will have to be fully informed and brought on board at this junction, and probably the FRT as well, especially since there is an aethereal component to this situation that will require a more effective response to counter it. And the most important factor of all is that the Arath' Mahar will have to be involved at the end of all of this." "So we start by bring Clayton into it then," Jim said. "Yes, she needs to be part of this now I think," Singh said. "And I will speak with the FRT as well concerning this. Fitzhugh will want to know what is on the horizon as well. For now, I will wait before informing Arath' Mahar Selicia of what we have uncovered." Mitch and Jim stood up. "I think we should tell Clayton now."Mitch said, "Now that we have a direction we need to start turning hounds loose." "Wait a moment if you would gentlemen," he said as they started to leave. "I will need to dispel my ward before either of you attempt to open the door and there is something else that we should do before you leave to bring the good lieutenant into this." Jim and Mitch waited while Singh reached into his desk drawer and moved what was in there around until he found what he was looking for. It was a small wooden box and when he opened it there were two teardrop crystals inside that were glowing with an electric blue light. Singh handed one to each of them. "It's beautiful," Mitch said. "What is it?" "Something that may help us," Singh said. "Now both of you need to look into the crystal and focus only on what you see there. When you feel it happen hand them back to me and forget about doing this," Singh's voice had taken of a seductive tone and both men obeyed without murmur. He watched them as they did as he told them and once the crystals were back in his hands he placed them in the box and closed it. Both men stood silent in front of him without speaking while he put the box away. Singh concentrated and his eyes took on the faint glow that they had assumed earlier. Jim watched dully as his lips moved soundlessly and in a moment he told them that it was safe for them to leave and take everything to Clayton. The two men shook themselves unconsciously when he spoke and started moving towards the door. When they asked him if he should not accompany them he told them that it would be best if Clayton brought him into this later to avoid possible complications due to the connection with the Grove and his role in that. He watched them leave and opened the drawer again to look at the two tear shaped crystals resting against the black velvet of the interior. He reached into the drawer and withdrew a small velvet lined wooden box and once he had ensured that they both were secure in its depths he closed the lid. Box in hand he rose and made his way to place them in the wall safe behind the plant that overshadowed Pantra's futon. There was a risk doing this again but after what they had told him this time it was warranted in his opinion. "God willing it will be enough," he said to himself as he placed the box in the safe and closed the door behind him. ----------------------------- Stafford: Day 47, 1100 hours The long line of cars was moving slowly down the street from St. Agatha's. Like yesterday Singh was traveling in the funeral procession with Lieutenant Clayton. Unlike yesterday they were by themselves in the back of the car. "I need to ask you a question Detective Singh," Clayton said to him quietly. "It's important and it needs to be asked while we are alone." Singh didn't say anything in response. He merely looked at her waiting for her to continue. "The night before they were killed, Jim and Mitch contacted me. They didn't give me any details when they did. They just said that it was urgent that they speak with me." "And what did they tell you when you met with them," Singh said in as neutral a tone as he could project. "That's the thing, I didn't meet with them," Clayton continued, "I don't know why it was that they had such urgency that I heard when I spoke with them. When they contacted me, I was meeting with the Chief and couldn't get away for the next couple of hours. The Chief is keeping me busy every evening. He is really worried about how this development with the Grove is going to affect the city. He has been since this situation with the Grove began." "I wasn't able to satisfy his demands until almost eight o'clock. And by the time I was able to get away and reach out to Jim and Mitch, both of them had already left the station. All I know is that they needed to speak with me and that it was about some connection with the Barnes case and the Grove with other cases." "I need to know if the two of them shared their information with you. They have been tangled up with this whole thing since it was started and since I can't speak with them, I need to know if they told you anything that would explain their agitation." "Yes, Lieutenant they did," he answered. "They told me that they had uncovered some new evidence that was related to both the information that we had uncovered in the Barnes investigation and a possible connection to some other cases." "Did they tell you anything specific about that information?" she had turned in the car to face him directly when she asked. "Did they share with you any hard copies of whatever it is that they found? I need to know everything they might have told you," she said. Singh felt his eyes being drawn in to hers. They seemed to grow larger and more luminous in the back of the car. That was an illusion of course he told himself, a trick of the light fostered by the heavy window tinting and the overcast sky. "No, Lieutenant Clayton," he finally managed to answer. "I regret to have to tell you that they did not share their findings with me. They also contacted me that night as well, but I was unable to leave my duties in the Grove as well. I also understood them to be speaking quite urgently on the subject. The seemed to be almost frantic that they share whatever it was with you before providing details to me." "Damn it," Clayton swore in frustration, turning her gaze away from him. "I was hoping you of all people would know something solid," she said. "Unfortunately I was out of the office when they spoke to me and all they told me was they had uncovered something important connecting several of these cases together. Something that they insisted could only be spoken of in person," Singh said, relaxing now that the forceful gaze she had turned on him was averted. Clayton turned back to him and he could feel the sense that her eyes were the only thing in the world increase again, stronger now than it was before. She was definitely doing something he thought. Before it had been faint and he could write it off as other things but not this time. It was clear now that she was projecting something and whatever it was intended to do to him it was stronger now than it was before. "I need to know everything that they might have shared with you Singh," she said. "Any physical documents or other evidence. Something, anything that could tell us what it was that was so important that they needed to meet with us and couldn't tell us over the phone more than that." "Lieutenant..." Singh began. "I'm sorry.... but they shared nothing with me other than they needed to speak with the two of us." "That's such a pity," she said to him leaning closer and placing her hand on his. When her skin came into contact with hers it felt as though it should jump from the reaction. "I need for you to be certain though," she said. "If there is anything that they might have mentioned before now that may have any connection with what they were going to tell me that night I need for you to share it with me." Her eyes seemed luminous now, the dim interior of the car seemed darker and all there was to focus on were Clayton's eyes and the sound of her voice. She's enchanting me, Singh told himself as he struggled to maintain his focus. Is it deliberate or something she does without realizing it he asked himself? It was the last thing that he would have expected from her, but it was there still. "Is there anything they might have shared with you?" she asked again. "Something that may have seemed trivial then? I need you to tell me everything." "No...Nothing," Singh managed to say to her. It was becoming more of a struggle for him to keep from telling her what they had spoken of during their last meeting and her eyes were enormous pools now in the darkness. They hung there burning and it was all he could do to keep from losing himself in them. If he were to fall into them nothing would matter but those eyes. They would swallow him whole and he was feeling the stirring of a desire to be swallowed by them. Something abruptly loosened in his mind and then awareness of what she was doing flooded over him. Her eyes and the spell they were casting over him receded until he was only sitting in the car looking back at her. "I'm sorry Lieutenant, but there is nothing that I can share with you. I know as much as you do about whatever it was that Detectives Brighton and Travers had to say to either of us that night." The car came to a stop and she withdrew her hand from his. "That's disappointing," she said to him. "I was positive that if anyone in the department knew anything about it that it would be you." "I'm sure their files will have the information that you are looking for," Singh answered as the door to the car was opened by the driver. "I hope so," Clayton replied. "Whatever it was they were going to share we need to find out and if it's as important as they thought it was, we need to find it out quickly." She exited the car and Singh moved out into the overcast light of the day from the shadowed interior after her. "We'll talk about this again later, detective Singh," she said as they joined the others streaming from the line of cars across the freshly cut grass of Greenlawn cemetery. "Forget about it until then, we have other concerns right now." Singh looked at her with hooded eyes and then shifted his gaze to the graveside pavilion before she could see how he was looking at her. "Of course we will, Lieutenant." ---------------------------- Fourth Precinct: Day 47, 2100 hours The door to his office was locked now and Singh's dress uniform had been exchanged for his more customary suit. It now hung from a hook on the wall of his office, its plastic dry cleaning cover once more draped over it. After the service for detective Brighton he had returned to his office in the fourth precinct and begun sifting through what the two men had left with him. Except for what they had shared in common there was very little that he could point to now. His encounter with Clayton in the car on the way to detective Brighton's service was alarming to say the least. He'd never seen her speak to him in that fashion before and more disturbing he hadn't suspected that it was something that she could even do. There were many who possessed a latent talent for doing what she was doing to him in the car; but this was the first time he had encountered someone who wielded it in such an overt manner. He wasn't certain that she was aware of what she was doing while she tried to influence him, but what he was not sure of yet was if it was an ability she had always been able to use or one that had recently manifested like Pantra's increased facility with her fire affinity. Feeling the failsafe that was part of his own mental protection activate only confirmed that it was something she was actively doing to him and not a trick of his own imagination and that was worrying on an entirely different level. One of the most threatening ideas of the approaching increase in magic was that it would manifest itself in the general public in various forms. Until now it had all just only been theory and speculation; but if someone he knew, someone like Lt. Clayton could project her will to influence the person she was focused on the way he had experienced, then theory and speculation were already moving more rapidly into reality than he had hoped to see right now. When he spoke with Arath' Mahar Selicia she had clearly warned him that they collectively had less time than they had expected to have. He had hoped when she told him that information that it was more her own inexperience underestimating how much time remained. Now he wasn't so sure. Given Clayton's interest in what Brighton and Travers had uncovered right now he thought it only prudent to lay his hands on as much as they had gathered together. He already knew how important it was, but regardless of her words to the contrary, Clayton did as well. His authority had gotten a tech up to unlock and copy the hard drives of their computers and the physical files in their possession had been gathered up at the same time. The car they were driving however didn't have anything in it and if they had been keeping their evidence close at hand it may have been removed before anyone was aware it was there at all. His visit to each of their homes had not yielded anything either and what he had been able to assemble out of the thick file they had brought to their meeting the last time was only a thin pale shadow of what they had shown him. Clayton claimed that she had not seen anything that they had gathered; but Singh was of the opinion that what he had found thus far was only the scraps left behind when the bulk was swept up and spirited away. If he were not able to gather what they had already completed then he would have little choice but to follow the path that they had already blazed. The advantage he had right now was that anyone who suspected that he had been told more than he had admitted to knowing was still unsure of that. If he was careful he might be able to reassemble what it was that was no longer there without revealing that he was not discovering but rather relocating. After all he knew where to look already and some of the pieces were in his hands. The key now that he saw it was to maintain that he was further out of the loop than was strictly true. As long as others thought that he knew less than nothing he had leeway to operate within. The problem was that he didn't believe Clayton when she said she had not spoken to them. He might have initially, but not after she had tried to influence him in the manner that she had attempted to do so. And there were other things that he knew that others didn't that argued that what had happened was much more than it seemed. One thing he was certain of was that he was not going to make the mistake of thinking that whomever it was that had scooped up what he had salvaged was satisfied that all ties connecting what Mitch and Jim had uncovered were now severed. He rose from the desk and made his way to where the safe in his wall sat and retrieved the copies of everything that detective Travers had shared with them when they met last. He checked them over to make certain that they had not been tampered with and added the slim folder containing what he had retrieved on his own. He sat them down on the desk and started laying them out. Some of what he had found was a duplicate of what was in the safe, but there were still bits and pieces that he hadn't had in hand before. The wooden box holding the two crystals came with the bundled papers and that he sat to one side of the desk for now as he sorted through what he had. Right now it was more important to sift through the fragments of the case file that he had been able to find to compare the two and assess the level of damage. On the surface it was disheartening. What was left was vague and indistinct. Without the bulk of the information what remained it made little sense and if that was all he had to go on Singh was fairly confident that he would have run into a brick wall sooner rather than later. There was just not enough left there to re-forge the connections between the data that Mitch had gathered and the scraps of what was left remaining. One thing he was certain of. Someone had been into detective Travers's files and to a lesser extent detective Brighton's as well. That meant that there was someone here who was moving to keep this information buried and it appeared to Singh that they were willing and able to even cover up the disappearance of two seasoned detectives to do so. He didn't like to think that Clayton might be that person, but her actions since then had aroused his suspicions. Singh replaced the papers in his safe and closed the door. As the tumblers locked into place he laid his hand on it and warded it against other forms of intrusion as well as the more conventional ones. Singh reached for the phone on his desk and after referencing the number he needed dialed it. This wasn't a call that he intended to make from his personal phone and the scrambler in the base of the one in his office should serve to conceal from whom it came if he was indeed being watched. The phone rang several times and he was beginning to think that it wouldn't be picked up at all before a man answered and asked him to wait a moment. When the voice returned to the connection Singh began to speak slowly and precisely to him. "I would like to speak with Dr. Gregor please. Are you Doctor Gregor?" he asked him. "Uh yes I am," he answered. "Who is this? I'm not seeing a name here." "Dr. Gregor, this is special detective Armin Singh. The materials that you passed on to detectives Brighton and Travers have passed in turn to me. They are...unable...to continue looking deeper into the matters that you brought to their attention during your meeting with them. I will be continuing the investigation where they left off." "Oh thank god, detective Singh. I am so glad to hear you say that. I saw in the paper where both of them had been killed and I've been looking over my shoulder ever since then," he said. "Doctor Gregor, I am not certain as yet that my colleague's unfortunate deaths may be related to what you showed them. However they did pass those materials on to me and you have my complete attention in this matter. Are you alone right now Doctor?" "I'm home right now," he said. "I live by myself and the house is small so I'm pretty certain that I am." "Please be certain of that fact Doctor, I will wait while you confirm it to be so." While Singh listened Gregor carried the phone into each room and verified that it was empty. When he finished his check of the last room Singh gave him his personal number. "Dr. Gregor it is most imperative that you memorize this number. Do not enter it on your personal phone. Call me from your office phone when you need to contact me. I need you to keep me alerted to the situation that you have uncovered there. Under no circumstances are you to send out another cadaver meeting those special conditions that you discussed with my colleagues without calling me so that I may see the evidence myself. Can you do this?" Gregor assured Singh that he could. "Excellent Doctor. Now the first thing I need for you to do is to send me a complete copy of all information that you have gathered thus far. Keep me informed the moment that new cases are identified. Remember not one of them is to go through that building without my personal examination and for the time being I will arrange that all Jane Doe's that are picked up pass through your hands. You are the gatekeeper now Dr. Gregor. This investigation will need to rely on your skill and your discretion. Can I rely on that?" Gregor assured Singh that he could and Singh thanked him and ended the call. He would need to make some arrangements and pull some strings to conceal where the directive gathering all Jane Doe's into this one medical examiner's office came from but he didn't think that would be too difficult to do. Pantra's cocoon bulged again as she moved beneath the silk. Her movements were coming more often now. She was moving out of her healing coma and he hoped she could awaken soon. Singh hoped that it would be sooner rather than later. Not only would her companionship be needed, but he would need the strength and experience that she could bring to bear on this matter. Probably sooner than he would like. For now he needed to decide how he would couch what he had found to Clayton without revealing that his base of knowledge was much deeper and of greater extent than anyone else in his position would expect it to be. And more importantly he had to do so without revealing that her own actions had alerted him to her interest as well. He turned off the desk lamp plunging the room into shadows and flipped the lid of the wooden box open. The glow from inside the box illuminated the room in cool blue light and reflected off of his face so that he seemed to loom larger in the darkness. Singh looked down at the two glowing teardrop crystals and concentrated on them. "Where are you?" he asked the two burning eyes staring back at him. "Where are the both of you really?" he asked, but there was no answer for him.