7. Recon
Recon
Isabelle flipped through stacks of documents on her desk in the late-night hours feverishly.
Not a day had passed since she’d met Detective Hernandez and brought him in to the investigation; she opposed it, naturally.
She didn’t trust him. Or like him very much.
His devil may care attitude rubbed her the wrong way.
And then there was his history. A long list of violations for excessive force, disobeying orders, and even psychological reports that deemed him anti-social; he wasn’t a team player.
A loose cannon like that could sink the investigation.
But she needed a guide and more importantly someone connected to the thieves who snatched the hard drive from APOLLO Technologies.
The FBI field office had gotten a hit from the license plate on the van days before; that’s when they learned of the group’s previous robberies and the man tasked with investigating them.
The hard work was to be left to him, of course.
“So, what do you think?” James Brown said, placing another stack of documents on the desk. Isabelle looked at the box. She shook her head.
“I’ll be here all night,” she replied.
“Still. Impressive, right?”
“Yeah. I guess you can call disobeying orders and destroying half a building impressive,” Isabelle said. She pulled a cigarette from the carton and put it up against her lips. Then lit it.
“You promised you’d quit. Remember?” James Brown said, backing away. She took in a deep drag, burning the cigarette midway, and blew the cloud of smoke in his direction.
“Don’t be a buzzkill. I’m stressed out enough as it is already,” she replied. Isabelle pulled one of the documents from the stack and handed it to him. “See that?”
He grabbed it quickly and backed away again.
“Former SWAT. Trained sniper and hostage negotiator. Commendations for valor. An injury forced him to retire,” James Brown read aloud. “Quite the resume. I don’t see what the problem is; it looks like he’d be an asset to the task force.”
“He does. On paper. But without clearance he’s useless to us,” Isabelle said. She took another drag from the cigarette. “And I’m not in the mood to fill out the paperwork to get him one.”
“Then get one of the new guys to do it. Or ask our boss. He could probably get him clearance within twenty-four hours. Why are you making this difficult?”
“I’m not. It’s just that I don’t think he’d be a good fit. And?—.”
“And? What?” James Brown said.
“I don’t like the way he looked at me,” she replied.
“Looked at you? When? Yesterday at the meeting?”
“Yeah. He couldn’t keep his eyes off me.”
“You’re full of it. ‘Oh, I’m so hot. Look at me. This guy WANTS me,’” James Brown quipped, imitating her poorly.
“Oh, shut up! I know you saw him. He couldn’t look away.”
“Maybe you’re the one who couldn’t look away,” he replied. “I saw the way you looked at him; like he was a piece of meat.”
“You’re insane. I should have you checked out,” she replied.
“I’m sleep deprived, actually. Have you forgotten? I was already seen by a doctor not so long ago; I want to go home.”
“Not until I finish looking into him.”
“Is this why you made me gather all of his old case files?” James Brown said, throwing the document back on her desk. “You’re doing some research on him. To see if you can find a pattern in the robberies or find a source of his and bypass him completely? He’s not going to like it if he finds out.”
“I couldn’t care less what he likes. This investigation is above his pay grade. And frankly he’s out of his depth,” Isabelle said. She pulled another file from the box in front of her and handed it to James. “The only reason I agreed was because Michael asked me to.”
“Don’t you mean forced? The director of the FBI doesn’t do much asking; I don’t take Michael Jones for the type do so anyways,” James Brown quipped.
“I guess you could put it that way. There’s no point in fighting it; I’ll use detective Hernandez to achieve our ends. And then dismiss him once he’s no longer of any use,” Isabelle said.
“Take a look at this. There’s a pawn shop not far from here and its owner has quite the history of fencing stolen goods.
And I just got word from the team I sent to the restaurant where the license plate tag was stolen that they got some information from a girl that works in one of the shops.
Which lead do you want to run down?” Isabelle said.
“A seedy pawn shop or stolen plates? I think you know which one,” he replied.
“Not in the mood for pawn shops after the Flamingo case, huh?”
“No, not really. I’ve had my fill of the miscreants that run those establishments. Next time, I shoot first,” James Brown said, turning his right wrist sideways.
“How is it? Has the bite healed?” Isabelle said, grinning.
“It’s not funny. And yeah, it has.”
“Sorry. I know I shouldn’t but I just can’t forget that short tubby guy gnawing on your arm like a piece of jerky,” she replied, burying her face in the files.
James removed his charcoal black suit jacket, folded it precisely, and placed it on a chair’s backrest beside him. Then he rolled up the sleeves on his right arm up to the elbow and extended his arm to her.
“See. It’s coming along just fine. The teeth marks are still there, though. Doctor said it might never go away,” James Brown said, passing his left finger across it gently. Isabelle leaned forward, smiled, and flicked it quickly before falling back into her chair. James pulled away quickly.
“Come on! You might dislodge something,” he yelled.
“It’s healed James! You’re treating it as if it were infected. Gangrenous. It was just a bite,” she said.
“Just a bite? Did you not see the man! He looked rabid! I had to get rabies shots just in case,” James Brown said, pulling down the sleeve and sliding on the suit jacket. “He was foaming at the mouth Isabelle.”
“Well, I did warn you to stay away from him; he looked a little off. Not all there, you know?”
“I remember. I also remember you giving me the zip ties and saying ‘book him rookie’,” he replied.
“And you did. It’s not my fault you got too comfortable once he was restrained. It was a learning opportunity.”
“He took a chuck off my arm,” James Brown said.
“I didn’t say it was a good one,” Isabelle replied.
“Forget it. I’ll run down the plates and you go deal with the rabid pawn shop owner,” he replied, leaving the office area.
“Where are you going? I haven’t got the information yet!”
“Home! Where you should be! It’s midnight go get some sleep,” he shouted through the closing elevator doors.
“Shit!” She replied, smacking a stack of papers off the desk.
Isabelle jumped from her seat and walked over to the windows overlooking the city.
She turned her attention to the old analog clock on the wall; its hands were both past midnight.
The city lights, in full bloom, sprinkled their warmth across the starless city skyline.
A lone security guard stood steadfast in his small booth showered in the whitest fluorescent lighting she’d ever seen; almost like a painting, he remained in focus as the rest of the canvas melted away around him.
There was no one else around for miles but she kept staring out at the vastness of the city.
Millions of little lights. Homes filled with people going about their daily lives.
And somewhere among them, the three she was after, plotted their next move.