by Matt Lincoln
I didn’t see Hills or Chapman as I stepped into the office. I vaguely recalled that Diane had assigned them some desks to use while they were here, but I didn’t see either of them there, nor anywhere else in the bullpen.
“Are you looking for the agents from the other branch?” Birn called from his desk, having spotted the way I was peering around the office. “They’re in the break room, I think.”
“Thanks,” I replied as I made my way over there. As I approached, I could see Chapman inside, pacing idly back and forth, his phone at his ear.
“Yeah, it would have arrived two days ago,” he said as I stepped into the room.
Hills was sitting in one of the chairs against the wall, his chin resting on his hand as he waited for his partner to finish the call. I sank into the chair next to him.
“The suspect said they deliberately rerouted their path so they would still arrive in Florida on time,” Chapman said as he continued to pace, “so I guess the original departure date would have been a few days later? Yes. Yeah.” He paused for a moment to glance down at the watch on his wrist. “Well, I can’t say for sure how long it would take. It depends on how the questioning goes. Maybe two hours. Yes. Okay, thanks, you’re the best. Love you too.”
My eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion as he ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket. Based on what he was saying, I’d assumed he was talking to someone about the case, maybe another agent from his branch. That last sentence had thrown me off, though.
“She’s on it,” he replied as he turned around to look at us. “Oh, that was Fiona—er, Agent Gardner. She’s our head intelligence analyst. I was asking her if she could get us a manifest of everything that was on the boat, as well as of all the crew members. That should help us figure out whether the drugs were supposed to be there, first of all, and to figure out who among the crew might have been engaging in piracy under the table.”
“I just thought we should go speak to the crew,” I replied as Chapman walked over to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup.
“So were we,” Hills grumbled. “We figured it would be a good idea to go in armed with as much info as we could, in case anyone tried to pull anything. If we have proof that the drugs weren’t supposed to be on that boat, no one will be able to weasel their way out by claiming otherwise.”
“That’s a good idea,” I replied. “An official list of crewmen would be good, too. The last time Holm and I went, there was a lot of chaos since a lot of the crew didn’t speak English and seemed like the Coast Guard was having difficulty figuring out exactly how many men were missing.”
“Right, how is Agent Holm?” Chapman interjected.
“He’s doing fine. Thanks for asking,” I replied. “He was pretty annoyed that he’ll have to stay in the hospital for a bit, but otherwise, the doctor thinks he’s recovering well.”
“That’s good,” Chapman replied before taking a sip of his coffee. “Anyway, sorry about cutting you off like that. You were saying about the crewmen?”
“Right,” I grunted. “It was a bit of a mess. One guy, in particular, seemed sketchy. Lieu. He was a second mate on the ship. Holm and I both thought he seemed a little… off, but considering what he’d just been through, it was possible he was just experiencing shock. Now that we know about the drugs, I’m not so sure.”
“He might be our best bet, then,” Hills grumbled as he stood up. “He was fairly high ranking, and you say it seemed like he was hiding something? Sounds like a good place to start.”
“I agree,” I replied as I stood up as well. “We should head down there while there’s still plenty of daylight left.”
Chapman quickly downed the rest of his coffee before grabbing his bag and joining us as we headed out of the break room and through the bullpen. We split off and headed toward our respective cars once we hit the parking lot, and I felt a small sense of loneliness without my partner. It was one thing to work with other agencies or other people. I’d done that plenty of times before, but it was another to feel like a third wheel.
I pushed the thought from my mind as I got into my car. I’d worked under worse conditions than this, and Holm would be back the next day. It wasn’t like we would do anything particularly dangerous that would require someone I trusted to have my back.
At least, that’s what I thought until I pulled my car into the parking lot just beyond the temporary camp that had been set up by the Coast Guard. A crowd of onlookers was gathered around the perimeter, and just beyond them, I could see several Coast Guardsmen and police officers alike rushing around urgently.
“Crap,” I muttered to myself as I got out of the car. Hills and Chapman, who had pulled in just after me, got out as well.
“Um… was it like this the last time you came?” Chapman asked me tentatively.
“No, it wasn’t,” I replied as I shut the car door. “Something’s wrong.”
The three of us took off, racing toward the yellow police tape that encircled the perimeter of the camp, preventing any of the curious gawkers from getting through.
“Agent Marston, with MBLIS!” I shouted as I pulled my badge out of my pocket and pushed my way through the swarm of people. I ducked under the police tape just as one of the officers approached us.
“Stop—” he began to say before I repeated the earlier introduction.
“Agent Marston with MBLIS,” I informed him as I showed him my badge. “These are Agents Hills and Chapman. We’re the ones investigating the attack. What happened here?”
“Some of them just went crazy,” the officer replied as he shifted gears and ushered us further into the camp. “Out of nowhere.”
As we walked past the first large tent, I could see what the commotion was about. Two Coast Guardsmen and someone dressed in a pair of scrubs were lying on the ground in various states of injury. Doctors and paramedics were gathered around each one, applying gauze and bandages to bright red wounds.
“Who went crazy?” I asked as we came to a stop outside an armored vehicle.
“Some of the crew from the boat,” he explained. “I don’t know the whole thing. We were called to come help after everything started. You should speak to Lieutenant Marsh. He’s the one in charge here.”
He knocked twice on the rear door of the vehicle. A moment later, the doors swung open, and a female Coast Guard officer with a sour expression on her face looked down at us.
“Federal agents,” the police officer explained briefly. “Said they need to speak with Marsh.”
“Who needs to speak with me?” The lieutenant that Holm and I had spoken to earlier poked his head out of the back of the vehicle. Inside, I could see that one side was lined with several screens and computers, while the other was outfitted with diving gear and other equipment. “Oh, it’s you again.”
He stepped out of the car once he spotted me.
“I’d like to say it’s nice to see you again,” I replied before taking a look around. “But it seems like right now isn’t the occasion for pleasantries.”
“You’re right about that,” Marsh sighed as he dragged a hand over his face.
“If you’ll excuse me,” the police officer muttered before rushing off again.
“He said that someone went crazy and attacked,” I remarked as I watched the officer tell off a group of kids leaning over the police tape to take pictures. “What happened?”
“A group of them, actually,” Marsh corrected as he put his hands on his hips. “They told one of the officers that they wanted to leave. It’s understandable, of course, but it’s not that simple. With immigration and figuring out where we could place everyone until we could get them safely back home, we couldn’t just let a bunch of people go wandering off on their own. She tried to explain that, but it just made them angry. Next thing we know, they’re going at her with some knives. No idea how they got them. Maybe they already had them when they were pulled out of the water…”
“I see three people injured out there,” Hills muttered. “At l
east. So what happened?”
“The facts are a little murky after that.” He grimaced. “I’ll admit, I didn’t see it firsthand, so all of this is coming from accounts I’ve heard from others, conflicting in many cases. From what I could gather, one of the other Coast Guardsmen pulled out his weapon and threatened to fire, but another one told him not to shoot inside a tent full of civilians. One thing led to another, and everyone’s panicking. A few officers start pointing their guns at the crewmen and trying to get everyone under control. I suppose the rest must have panicked then, not understanding why they suddenly had guns pointed at them. The next thing I know, everyone’s screaming, shots are fired, people are scrambling everywhere. I tried to figure out what everyone was panicking over, but I couldn’t get a straight answer. It all happened so fast.”
“And only three people were injured in all of that?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “If only. No, most everyone’s been moved to the big tent at the end of the camp. We rushed the worst cases out on the ambulances that were already here. The three left outside? Well, their injuries are bad enough that we can’t move them. Not until we get more ambulances out here.”
“Wait, so this just happened?!” Chapman exclaimed.
“Five or so minutes before you three arrived, yes.” He nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I was just radioing for whatever backup we could get when you arrived. We’re stretched thin enough as it is. Of the crewmen that weren’t injured, most of the rest of them took off, including the men that started the chaos, to begin with.”
“Dammit,” I muttered through gritted teeth. It seemed we’d been just a moment too late. “Did you manage to apprehend any of the men that attacked the original officer?”
“I’m afraid not,” he sighed. “The only ones still here are the ones who were unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire.”
“You don’t happen to have photographs of them, do you?” Chapman asked. “Or remember anything identifying about them?”
“I’m afraid not,” he replied before suddenly pausing. “Now that you mention it, though, the eyewitness reports I got all mentioned that the original group of men was speaking English. When they spoke to the officer, she specifically mentioned that they told her in English that they wanted to leave and that they got really upset when she told them they couldn’t.”
“Well, that’s something,” I muttered. “Lieu could speak pretty good English, too. I wonder if that’s the key to finding our pirates.”
“It would make sense,” Chapman chimed in. “I imagine engaging in international crime would be difficult if they were unable to communicate.”
“So our guys speak English,” Hills grunted. “That doesn’t actually help us find them.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as I thought about how we should proceed. Finding a few select men in a big city like Miami would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Even if they’d only left five minutes ago, there were dozens of places they could be hiding. Heck, they could have taken a boat and fled over the water.
“Wait,” Lieutenant Marsh suddenly spoke up. “I just remembered. Some of the crewmen were taken to the hospital, the ones with more serious injuries.”
“Did any of them speak English?” I asked.
“Yes.” The lieutenant nodded. “I know at least one of them did. He was helping to explain things to the other men that needed to be transported to the hospital.”
“Well… that doesn’t mean he’s definitely a pirate,” Chapman mumbled.
“It’s a good place to start, though,” I replied before turning to look at Marsh. “Thanks for telling us. Do you know which hospital they were taken to?”
“The university one,” he replied. “They should still be there unless they managed to heal their broken bones overnight.”
“Let’s go then,” I replied as I turned to Chapman and Hills. “We already lost our opportunity to question the men here.”
“I’ll let you know if I learn anything else,” Marsh assured us as the three of us walked away from the lieutenant and back toward the parking lot.
“Well,” Hills grumbled as we stepped over the low barrier separating the dock from the parking lot, “At least we know that Marco wasn’t lying. The fact that they suddenly attacked one of the Coasties pretty much confirms that they were up to no good.”
“Hopefully, Marsh was right about one of them being at the hospital,” I added as I stepped up to my car's driver-side door. “Otherwise, we’re going to have to find another angle to pursue.”
“I’ll call Wallace and have him put an alert out,” Hills muttered as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We should make sure air and sea ports are all on the lookout in case any of them try to flee the country.”
“Alright,” I replied as I got into my car and the Vegas agents climbed into theirs. I felt anxious as I turned the ignition and pulled out of the lot. First, Holm went down, and now we’d lost one of our most promising leads. I thought back to Holm’s quip in the hospital about how he wished that for once, we could just find the bad guy right away and call it a day.
Life’s not that easy, I thought to myself as I sped down the street toward the University of Miami hospital. As I made my way there, I pulled my phone from my pocket to call Diane. It would make things go a lot more smoothly for us if she were to call ahead to the hospital to let them know we were on our way.
When I pulled into the hospital’s parking lot a few minutes later, I noticed that the Vegas agents hadn’t arrived yet, despite having left just before me. In fact, I didn’t see them anywhere.
“Maybe they’re stuck in traffic,” I muttered impatiently as I looked toward the hospital. Holm and I were used to Miami traffic, and we were both familiar with the best side roads and detours to take to avoid the worst of it. The Vegas agents were probably still on the main road.
Just as I thought that, a car came screeching down the street before sharply taking the corner into the parking lot. It pulled smoothly into the parking lot, and just an instant later, the passenger side door popped open.
“You’re going to die in a car,” Chapman grumbled as he stepped out of the car. “Mark my words.”
“I’ve never been in an accident before,” Hills replied nonchalantly as he stepped out of the driver's side. “And if I recall, you were the one who wrecked one of the company vans last year.”
“Miranda was the one driving!” Chapman retorted. “I had nothing to do with that crash. And, technically, the suspect crashed into us.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hills replied dismissively as he walked up to me. “Sorry. Got a little stuck in traffic back there.”
“Until Charlie decided to pull an illegal u-turn and drive like a maniac,” Chapman muttered.
“It got us here on time, didn’t it?” Hills deadpanned.
Chapman just shrugged, looking defeated, and I could tell that this wasn’t the first time they had this kind of conversation. The more I learned about Hills, the more he struck me as the kind of guy that didn’t worry about the means, so long as he achieved the end result he wanted. While I could appreciate that tactic was sometimes the only way to go, it wasn’t a method I’d personally employed all the time myself. I preferred to be careful and think before I acted, whereas Hills seemed a lot more devil-may-care.
The University of Miami hospital was a sprawling complex consisting of several buildings. It made sense, considering the purpose of the hospital was to educate future medical professionals. As we stepped inside, I noticed that the inside of the hospital looked just as impressive and state-of-the-art as the outside, clean and crisp and smelling of disinfectant.
The lobby of the building was quiet and mostly empty, though I could hear voices coming from some of the offices lining the right side of the entrance. Two women wearing neat, simple uniforms were chatting quietly behind the main reception desk as we approached.
“Hello.” One of them cleared her throat as she
turned to look at us, attempting to stifle a giggle at whatever she and the other woman had just been laughing about. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Agent Marston, with MBLIS,” I replied as I pulled my badge from my pocket. “These are Agents Hills and Chapman. My director should have called ahead about us coming. We need to speak to the men who were brought here from the shipwreck a few days ago.”
“Just one moment,” she replied before picking a phone up off the desk and pressing several buttons. “Hi, yes, there are some people here who say they’re agents from some organization. Yes?”
I waited patiently as she spoke quietly with someone over the phone for a minute before turning back to us.
“Yes, my supervisor just got off the phone with her,” she replied, her face a little pale. “I can, um, take you up to the floor where they’re staying. They’re not… they aren’t dangerous or anything, right?”
I could tell by the sudden change in her demeanor and her shaking voice that she was nervous.
“We can’t say for sure,” I replied honestly. “But it’s important that we go speak to them as soon as possible.”
“I’ll tell security to be on standby,” the other woman behind the desk suggested as she glanced with concern at her coworker.
“That’s fine,” I replied, “but tell them not to make a move preemptively. We don’t want them to realize what’s happening and attempt to flee.”
“Okay,” the woman replied seriously as she picked the phone up off the desk.
The first receptionist, a short, slight woman with smooth straight hair pulled back into a low ponytail, led us back past the desk and toward a set of elevators further inside the hospital’s main floor.
“They’re all on floor three in intensive care,” she informed us as we stepped into the elevator. “In three rooms, no, four, I think. All side by side. We uh… we wanted them to feel as comfortable as possible, you know? We thought it would be scary for them if they were surrounded by people they didn’t recognize.”
“That was very kind of you,” I replied as she chattered anxiously.
