by C. R. Daems
"I wanted it clear I'm seeking a personal favor, which has nothing to do with the navy," I said.
"It couldn't have anything to do with General Guzman's missing daughter?" he asked, and I nodded. "Then you were ordered—"
"No, sir. Neither Admiral Webb nor Lulltrel would do that. They know the case is a local police matter. But General Guzman is a personal friend of Admiral Webb. He asked me as a personal favor to see what I could find out, hoping it would help ease the worry of his friend."
"Although I understand his concern, Anna, Guzman's an asshole. We told him what we knew—which admittedly wasn't much—but he got abusive," Kinard said. I nodded, understanding. "I like you, Anna. And because I believe you may have a useful insight, I'll let you see the file and talk with the detective who caught the case." He tapped on his tablet. "MaryAnn, have detective Gonzales bring me the Guzman case file." He smiled. "This shouldn't take long. I imagine he's using the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator." Sure enough, Gonzales arrived just after Kinard had made us coffee.
"Gonzales, this is—"
"Anna," I said.
"Anna. Despite her young age, she's a certified bloodhound and a colleague. I've agreed to let her look at the Guzman case."
For the next two hours, Gonzales went over what they had discovered in the course of their investigation: Susan Guzman was in the second half of her sophomore year at the Eastar Institute of Technology, working on a degree in Mechanical Engineering. Her grades were excellent, a four-point-seven grade average. She dated but didn't have a steady, liked parties, but was not a regular attendee. She drank alcohol and occasionally popped mild drugs but wasn't an addict. And by all accounts, she wasn't a virgin but was selective. In general, a good student who wasn’t indulging in any reckless behavior. It had been three weeks since she disappeared without a trace. She was last seen at the school cafeteria around nineteen hundred hours and reportedly had indicated she was going to the library to study for a test the next day in her Engineering Mathematics class. The library workers thought they saw a girl answering to Susan's description the night in question but weren’t positive.
"In our experience, girls that disappear usually fall into one of several categories: those who choose to leave home because they rebel against their parents' restrictions, are being abused, or for a boy. Kidnappings and murders are rarer, maybe less than five percent of the cases. Frankly, because Susan's father was a general, we went the extra mile. We interviewed everyone known to be in the library that night, students in her dorm, her friends, and checked the cameras around the campus, train stations, and space port. Since then, there has been no activity on her credit card," Gonzales said, obviously frustrated. "This is one of those rare cases where the person vanishes, like a magic act—poof."
"Do you get many magic-act cases?" I asked, wondering how common it was for someone to just vanish—an anomaly or not.
"They used to be very rare, but over the past few years I've seen more. Still rare, but not as much as before," Gonzales said and pursed his lips in thought.
Kinard laughed. "I see that bloodhound nose expanding and getting closer to the ground."
"Commissioner, I know you don't have the manpower to pursue…anomalies, but with your permission I'd like to satisfy my curiosity. It's actually the reason Admiral Lulltrel brought me to Eastar—I love puzzles."
"That's how you discovered the marines-for-hire syndicate, if I remember correctly," he said more as a question.
"Yes, sir."
"What are you going to tell Webb?" he asked, staring at me.
"That you went out of your way to satisfy me and that I thought your investigation was extremely thorough," I said, returning his gaze.
"And if I allow you access?" he asked.
"I'll report my findings to you for your action unless I find a problem that extends to other systems. But in any case, you get the information first."
Kinard smiled. "If it were anyone else, I would suspect they would be seeking personal gain. But after the marine-for-hire scandal, you turned everything over to us to take action. Hardly the response of someone seeking personal gain."
"Sir, lieutenant was the last rank I was comfortable holding." I didn't smile. Kinard roared with laughter.
"Anna, I actually believe you. All right, I confess I'm also interested. Gonzales, you can help the NIA get the access they need to look at this…anomaly."
* * *
"Carl, ask Commander Damon to see me when she's free…and Banner," I said over our intercom link and went back to contemplating what my involvement with my staff should be. I didn't want to micromanage their stations but worried their isolation may overlook something that could be relevant when all fifteen stations were considered. Thankfully, a knock at my door interrupted my musings, which were just giving me a headache. Banner stepped in and closed the door.
"Have a seat, David," I said, and he retreated to a chair against the wall. He had just sat when there was another knock and Carl peeked in.
"Commander Damon is here," he said with a grin. When I looked at the clock, only five minutes had elapsed. I smiled realizing, that was what I did when Lulltrel said she wanted to see me—drop everything and take the stairs two at a time to avoid having to wait for the elevator.
"Send her in, Carl." I grinned back. Damon exploded through the door, still breathing hard, and saluted.
"Commander Damon reporting as requested," she said in a rush. Her face was flushed with excitement.
"I think I heard you say you hoped I'd find an exciting project for you, didn't I?" I asked, producing a frown.
"Yes, Admiral. I do remember saying something to that effect." She beamed a playful smile at me and her eyes sparkled.
"Lieutenant Banner, get Commander Damon whatever she'd like to drink."
"Water," she said. When she sat, I began.
"General Guzman's daughter went missing several weeks ago. The general, for whatever reason, felt the police weren't doing enough and were withholding information from him. He asked Admiral Webb for help, who asked me to look into the matter."
"That's tricky. It's clearly a police matter and they wouldn't like anyone interfering," Damon said, frowning in thought, probably remembering a similar incident.
"True. But I've had dealings with Commissioner Kinard and he was kind enough to have Detective Gonzales, who was in charge of the case, walk me through what they found. In general, none of the normal reasons for children to run away exists as far as they can determine. Her relationship with her parents appears good, her grades are excellent, which would indicate she wasn’t depressed or distracted, and they ruled out excessive drug use and a serious relationship. As Detective Gonzales said, she just went poof, like in a magic act."
"What was your conclusion?" Damon asked.
"The police were very thorough," I said.
"And you want me to…?"
"It appears to be an anomaly, which I'd like you to explain," I said remaining serious.
"Explain?" her eyes went wide in surprise.
"Right now, it's a small project for your boss. We'll call it Magic Act. I'd like you to look at the last three or four years to determine whether any similar cases have occurred, what they have in common, and the number that were eventually solved. You're to contact Detective Gonzales. You won't have a problem, as the commissioner has authorized him to work with us. You're not to share the project with anyone except Lieutenant Banner, Master Chief Stamm, and those you might have working on the project."
"You're expecting…?"
"You to tell me what happened," I said, like it was obvious.
"But you said the police were thorough," Damon said, looking nervous.
"Yes, but they didn't solve the case. Humor me. I don't like unexplained anomalies, or maybe I'm just bored and hoping you can solve that problem."
CHAPTER THREE
Star System: Eastar - When Is an Anomaly Not an Anomaly
Damon bolted up as Banne
r called attention just before I entered the Condor Conference room. It was one of three shared conference rooms on the eighteenth floor. The room was named after a UAS cruiser which managed to stop three FPU cruisers from attacking the planet Westar during the border war some forty years ago. Condor was the smallest of the three conference rooms, with a capacity for ten at the oblong table and another fifteen along the walls, which made it ridiculously large for my staff meeting—only four people were attending, not counting my ever-present security and Red. Although the room was the smallest, like all the admirals' conference rooms, the chairs reclined and rotated and were finished in a plush navy-blue leather. The table was a unique dark purple hardwood from the planet Black Water and the room contained the latest electronics gadgets.
"At ease," I said, feeling foolish, but knew I couldn't and shouldn't tamper with tradition—too much. Flag officers required the room be called to attention when he or she entered. As I sat, I noticed that Damon had a devilish smile.
"You knew what we would find," she blurted, "Commander Cooper said you were a witch," she said but added quickly, "A good witch."
"And what did I know that I sent you to find?" I asked, maintaining a serious face, although it was hard watching Damon trembling with excitement. "Sit before you explode."
As she sat, I felt Red emerge and wind around my neck with his head on my shoulder facing Damon. "Even Red is interested," I said.
"That's eerie, ma'am." She nodded toward Red. "Anyway, I've spent the last week with Detective Gonzales reviewing the missing persons files. He was very cooperative. When I had questions, he even called in the detective who investigated the case to answer them. We've narrowed the list to six young women over the past three years. We actually looked at a total of five years but found no similar cases in either the fourth or fifth year. We found one case three years ago, and two last year. This year has had two, including Susan Guzman. And this year has eight months to go. When Gonzales told the Commissioner, he got involved. He concluded they would never have found the…apparent trend, as there are over fifty cases a year and there are five detectives who investigate missing person reports." She laughed. "He said only someone like my boss could figure it out." Smiling she looked back at her notes. "Three of the girls were in college, but the other three had found jobs straight out of compulsory school. Three were blonds, one redhead, and two brunettes. And their heights varied from one hundred sixty to one hundred seventy-eight centimeters," Damon said and then cocked her head as if to ask what now.
"And your conclusion?" I asked, trying not to smile at the shocked look on her face. She remained silent for a long time.
"There appears to be a pattern here that doesn't conform to normal reasons that people go missing. For one thing, none of the seven have turned up or were reported as having been seen. But I don't know what that suggests."
I smiled. "You obviously talked to Commander Newman and he warned you I don't like guessing," I said. She gave a wry smile and nodded. "Good. The trouble with assumptions based on guessing is it can lead you down the wrong path and cause you to miss the right one. What we know at this point is that Susan Guzman isn't an anomaly. What we need to determine is whether the seven cases you found are related."
"Any suggestion, ma'am?" Damon asked, frowning in thought.
"Start with what they have in common. I'd like you to give the commissioner a profile he can use to predict the next woman who will go missing without a trace."
"What if they are random or unrelated?"
"What if they aren't random and they are related?"
"How will that help the Commissioner? That's likely to include hundreds of women."
"It won't. But it will please your boss."
"Yes, ma'am. I can see why the Commissioner would want such a profile." She gave me an elfin smile.
* * *
"Ma'am, I'm confused," Banner said as he set a cup of coffee on my desk. "How can such a profile help the commissioner?"
"It can't."
"But Commander Damon said—" Banner began but I interrupted.
"Damon knows I want the profile. Therefore, the real question is, why do I want the profile if it won't help the commissioner?" I looked at Banner, who slowly nodded. "We now know Susan Guzman's disappearance isn't an anomaly, since there are other similar cases. The next question is whether their disappearances are related. To determine that we need information: did they know each other, participate is some activity together or separately, etc. When we have that information, we will be able to make an informed decision. Right now, any conjecture would be guessing.”
* * *
"At ease," Lulltrel said as she entered her conference room and sat. Her staff hadn't changed, but everyone was now a rear admiral, lower-half, because of our success in catching the hijackers and the marines who were part of the marines-for-hire syndicate. "Well, Paulus, how does it feel to be an admiral?"
"Embarrassing and boring," I blurted. Seeing shocked faces around the table, I quickly added, "The real problem is that I haven't been able to determine if being an admiral is boring or whether I'm bored because I'm not doing something I should."
"What do you mean, not doing something you should?" Lulltrel asked, leaning forward with amused interest.
"I have fifteen commanders reporting to me but only one attends my staff meetings. You have to admit that could be boring. But is that the way it should be?"
"But they will be sending you monthly reports. That's like having a monthly staff meeting with all fifteen of them," Byrnes said. He managed the NIA school, called the Academy, which taught new recruits the essentials of being an NIA agent. He was in his late forties, average height, and had a full beard and mustache that gave him the look of a college professor. And his laid-back, philosophical manner reinforced the look. He had a sharp mind and was constantly searching for ways to challenge the recruits to be creative.
"How would you like to manage the recruits from your office using monthly reports they sent you on their progress?" I asked which elicited smiles and snorts.
"But your direct reports are commanders, not students," Byrnes said, implying that was a different situation.
"Not so different. The students want to pass the course and the commanders want to get promoted. Those are strong motivations to omit, ignore, or embellish their reports," I said and heard Lulltrel snort, obviously thinking about the monthly reports from the NIA station chiefs before I was assigned to monitor them.
"That's human nature and we learn to read between the lines. You managed to identify the hijackers and the marines-for-hire activity when you were the Eastar station chief," Leyva said. He managed the NIA's Forensic Department. Leyva was also in his forties, but he was clean-shaven, and his light brown hair was receding at the temples. He frequently looked like he had stayed up all night at work but was meticulous at his job.
"True. It's easy to read between the lines if you can observe that individual. Not so easy when you don't know them and can't see them. And yes, I discovered two criminal organizations, but how many have I missed?"
"You're talking to the NIA's resident bloodhound," said Hadley, the NIA Data Collection Chief, with a laugh. Hadley was a tall, slender woman in her early forties. Her angular face and black hair pulled back in a ponytail would have been intimidating if not for her warm smile. "She's bored now that she's chased all the criminals out of the UAS."
"Yes, being an admiral can be boring, but most of us don't reach flag rank until we're old enough to appreciate the easier pace. Even so, admirals are paid for their experience and to guide their assigned organizations. Ninety-five percent of our jobs could be adequately handled by most competent lieutenant commanders. It's the five percent where we earn our pay." Lulltrel scanned everyone in the room before continuing. "Like coercing you to accept the Eastar NIA station chief position." She smiled at me. "But I understand what you are saying. Do you have a solution or suggestion?"
"No, ma'am. I'm a today perso
n, and today I'm not only bored, I'm concerned I'm not doing my job," I said, being truthful.
"When you figure it out, Anna, let me know because I'm interested." She looked around the room. "Anyone else bored and need extra work?"
"No, ma'am." Came the unanimous chorus. My face felt warm seeing everyone grinning at me.
"Paulus, join me in my office," Lulltrel said as she rose and left the room. When we arrived, she waved toward two padded armchairs off to the right of her desk. As we sat, her aide put two cups of coffee on the table between us. Lulltrel's was black and mine a creamy brown color. I nodded my thanks. "Well, what did you find out, if anything?" she asked, obviously referring to General Guzman's daughter.
"The police were very cooperative. They not only let me see the case file but had the detective in charge of the investigation there to answer my questions. Their investigation was very thorough."
"Apparently the general didn't think so," Lulltrel said, eyebrows raised.
"I suspect the general may have treated them like soldiers under his command and ruffled the commissioner's feathers. General Guzman was rightly upset, but the police aren't to blame. His daughter is just one of many missing persons. Given their limited resources, I believe his daughter's case got special consideration."
"I hear some reservations." She gave me a knowing stare.
"Ma'am, with the commissioner's permission, I'm looking at the case," I said, not wanting to speculate on the reason.
Lulltrel shook her head. "You think the police missed something," she said with certainty.
"It's possible. I'm having Commander Damon follow up on a few questions I have."
"What do you want Admiral Webb to tell General Guzman?"
"That the police were very thorough in their investigation but were unable to discover what happened to her and have no leads to pursue at this time."
"Oh, that will be a showstopper," Lulltrel said, shaking her head.
