CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The FBI field office was bustling with an energy Miles had never experienced before.
When he and Vic entered the building, he could feel it right away before he even saw it.
When they reached the second floor, agents were moving through corridors with urgent purpose, phones rang constantly, and conversations overlapped in a symphony of controlled chaos.
As soon as they stepped off the elevators, a junior agent intercepted them.
“Agent Stone? Dr. Sterling? AD Hayes wants to see you immediately.”
Miles fought to keep up. The field office had transformed into something resembling a war room. Agents he didn't recognize hurried past carrying files and laptop computers. The energy was infectious and terrifying at the same time. This latest murder had changed everything, apparently.
Hayes appeared at the end of the corridor, his military bearing more pronounced than usual. “Stone, Sterling. Conference room three. Now.”
They followed him through the maze of cubicles and offices to the largest conference room in the building.
Miles had only been inside it once before, when helping with evidence from a sabotaged small plane incident a few years ago.
The space could easily accommodate eighty people, with a massive oval table surrounded by ergonomic chairs.
Whiteboards covered three walls, already filled with crime scene photos, timelines, and victim profiles.
A dozen flat-screen monitors displayed various databases and surveillance feeds.
"Gentlemen, ladies," Hayes addressed the room as they entered, his voice booming but still also somehow calm.
"This case is now the Bureau's number one priority.
Every available agent in the D.C. Metro area has been assigned to assist. We have three victims in less than three days, and the pace is accelerating.
We also have no way of knowing if the killer has already planted more of these devices around the city.
And as awful as it sounds, we are currently working with city officials to draft up a public health warning, recommending that everyone check their AC units. "
Miles counted at least twenty-five agents in the room, some seated at the main table, others standing near the whiteboards. The scale of the response was overwhelming. He'd never been part of an investigation that commanded this level of resources.
“Agent Stone and Dr. Sterling have been leading the investigation,” Hayes continued. “They've identified this as potentially connected to a larger pattern of element-based murders across the country. Dr. Sterling, bring everyone up to speed on your latest theory.”
Holy shit, Miles thought. Hayes had just not only mentioned the credibility of his idea that these murders were connected to other elemental murders across the country…
but he had done it in front of multiple other agents.
He wished he could appreciate the moment for what it meant, but there just wasn’t enough time.
Miles stood, suddenly conscious of every eye in the room focused on him. He cleared his throat and moved toward the whiteboards where crime scene photos were displayed.
“Based on our investigation so far, I believe we're looking for someone with chemistry training who has grievances against employers, the government, or society in general.” His voice grew stronger as he found his rhythm.
“The sophistication of the fluorine delivery systems suggests advanced knowledge, but the target selection indicates someone driven by personal anger rather than random violence.”
An agent near the back raised her hand. “What makes you think it's job-related?”
“The pattern matches what we saw in San Francisco with Diana Hartwell and the gold-related murders.
She was a museum curator with deep resentment toward the corporate interests that destroyed her family's business.
If I'm right about a larger organization or mastermind behind all of these murders, it seems that they are recruiting people who already have reasons to hate the system.”
Hayes nodded approvingly. “What's your next step?”
“We need to look for chemistry professionals who were fired, rejected, or otherwise mistreated by their employers. People who might have gone quiet after their career setbacks.” Even as he said this, he once again had a sense that Dr. Lawson didn’t quite fit this part of the profile.
He had remained among his old communities rather than shunning them and turning away.
“Good approach,” Hayes said. “Meanwhile, we have twelve agents reviewing surveillance footage from the floral shop. Two additional teams are interviewing family and friends of all victims. Agent Mitchum is coordinating background checks on anyone with access to the school's ventilation system.”
Miles felt both energized and overwhelmed by the scope of the operation. This was federal law enforcement at full capacity, and he was somehow at the center of it. A small part of him wished Elena could see it.
“I want constant communication,” Hayes continued. “If you need anything, anything at all, you contact me immediately. We're not letting this killer claim a fourth victim.”
The room began to disperse as agents returned to their assignments. Hayes pulled Miles and Vic aside in the chaos of it all.
“I'm trusting your instincts on this, Sterling. Your periodic table theory seems to have legs and…. well, this fluorine connection is too specific to ignore. But we need results fast.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Agent Stone, you and Dr. Sterling have full autonomy to pursue whatever leads you develop. Don't wait for approval. Just keep me informed.”
Vic nodded. “We'll find him.”
As the conference room emptied, Miles and Vic made their way to her office.
Miles had never seen Vic's workspace before, and he was struck by its spartan simplicity.
A single desk held a computer, phone, and neat stack of case files.
No personal photos, no decorations, no indication that anyone actually spent time here.
The walls were bare except for a single FBI organizational chart.
Even the bookshelf contained only procedural manuals and legal references.
“This is where you work?” Miles asked, settling into one of two basic chairs that faced her desk.
“I'm rarely here long enough to personalize it.” Vic powered up her computer. “All that stuff’s a distraction. And distraction doesn’t solve cases.”
Vic grabbed an iPad from her desk and logged it into the database. She handed it over to Miles before sitting down behind her laptop. “Let's start with fired chemists in the DC area over the past five years,” she said, already typing to search parameters.
They worked in focused silence, each following different threads through employment records, news articles, and professional databases.
The scope of their search was daunting. The Washington metro area employed thousands of people with chemistry backgrounds in government agencies, private companies, universities, and research institutions.
Miles scrolled through termination records from pharmaceutical companies, finding dozens of scientists who'd been let go for various reasons.
Budget cuts, performance issues, corporate restructuring.
Most seemed routine, but a few terminations involved disciplinary actions or whistleblower complaints.
“Nothing interesting yet?” Vic asked without looking up from her screen.
“Lots of layoffs, but those don't usually create the kind of anger we're looking for.” Miles opened another database and checked the time. Somehow, they’d already been at this for half an hour. “I'm focusing on people who were fired for cause or who filed complaints against their employers.”
Vic pulled up a map of the D.C. area marked with locations of recent chemical incidents. "EPA has records of seventeen workplace safety violations involving fluorine compounds in the past three years. Most were resolved with fines, but a few resulted in employee terminations."
“There might be something there,” Miles said. “Workplace safety violations involving fluorine would be exactly the kind of issue that could drive someone to extremes. Any names stand out?”
“Just one so far. Marcus Thompson. He was fired from Meridian Chemical after reporting multiple safety violations involving fluorine storage and handling.”
Miles typed the name into his search engine. “Here we go. Marcus Thompson, industrial chemist, terminated eighteen months ago after filing complaints with OSHA about improper fluorine containment procedures.”
“What happened after he was fired?”
Miles clicked through several news articles, working as fast and efficiently as he could. “He tried to take his case to the media. Local news interviewed him about what he called 'corporate chemical warfare' against the public.”
“Corporate chemical warfare?”
“Yeah. Says here he claimed certain chemical compounds are purposely being used to poison populations in small doses.” Miles found a video link to the news interview. “Want to watch this?”
Vic moved her chair closer to Miles and looked to the iPad screen.
The interview showed a man in his early forties, well-dressed and articulate, sitting across from a local news anchor.
Miles had expected another conspiracy theorist like Dr. Lawson, someone obviously unhinged or paranoid.
Instead, Marcus Thompson came across as calm and professional… almost kind.
“Mr. Thompson, you're claiming your former employer deliberately exposed workers to dangerous chemicals?” the anchor asked.
“Not deliberately in the sense of malicious intent,” Thompson replied. “But they prioritized profit margins over safety protocols. When fluorine compounds aren't properly contained, they create a cascade of chemical reactions that contaminate the entire facility.”
“And you believe this contamination affects the broader community?”
“Absolutely. These compounds don't just disappear. They accumulate in groundwater, in air systems, in the food chain. We're conducting a slow-motion chemical experiment on the entire population.”
Miles paused the video. “He's articulate. Sounds rational. And really, his theory isn't completely crazy.”
“More convincing than I expected, that’s for sure,” Vic agreed.
Miles continued his research. “Looks like he seems to have disappeared from public view shortly after that interview. No more media appearances, no social media presence, no speaking engagements.”
“Someone who went quiet after their career setback,” Vic observed. “Exactly what you predicted.”
"Let's see what he's been up to lately, then," Miles said.
He clicked through several more databases, looking for records of current employment.
"Looks like he's teaching chemistry at Northern Virginia Community College.
Just outside D.C. That's not exactly keeping distance form your community… but it's still promising."
Vic was already reaching for her jacket. “Think it's worth a visit?”
“You’re already getting your jacket,” he pointed out with an excited smile. “Does it matter what I think?”
She chuckled at him as they headed out of the door.
“Thompson has the chemistry background, the grievance against his former employer, and he's been publicly claiming that chemical compounds are being used to poison the population,” Miles said.
“That's exactly the mindset that would make someone vulnerable to recruitment by some higher-up figure.”
“Plus he went quiet after his public statements failed to get traction,” Vic added. “Someone in that position might be looking for a more dramatic way to make his point.”
They gathered their materials and headed for the exit.
The field office continued its controlled chaos around them, but Miles felt a growing sense of focus.
Marcus Thompson represented their best lead yet, someone with both the technical knowledge and the ideological motivation to commit these murders.
Within the hour, they’d hopefully have a new path to follow. Maybe a killer, maybe not. But at this point, Miles was willing to accept any path that pushed them forward rather than sitting around waiting for someone else to die.