by Ivan Bering
Emma thought about Charlie as a Watcher: it didn’t make sense. Was he ordered to attend? She struggled to forget him but reluctantly admitted there were times when she smiled about the incident at the dance, funny in a weird sort of way.
Charlie was tall, an olive complexion, average looking guy, almost handsome with a rugged appearance and an athletic build. She heard he worked both sides of the street, hard drinking played off with intense workouts. She knew his family history and his reputation, fast mouth, hard-nosed, excellent detective, fearless. He upset her. She grudgingly acknowledged, to herself, when she saw him, there was a visceral reaction but knew she would always keep her distance. She was not getting close to a man many in the Sector labeled a reckless maverick.
“This doesn’t make sense. If this convict thinks Charlie is going to help, he must be desperate. I’ll keep a close eye on that scan. I don’t know what’s going on, but my guess is: Charlie will try to pull something.”
CHAPTER 21: Brainstorming Concludes
The Historian’s original conclusion triggered the argument.
Terry refused to believe that one or both of the Five Star Couple was a cop. Charlie allowed the loud debate to continue, hoping the emotion would eventually drain and logic return. Could John convince the group? John Wojecki developed a reputation for being calm under pressure, his role as Historian for the S3 memory scan demanded that temperament. As one of the smartest people in the Sector, the Historian often searched for atypical activity to keep himself amused. When Terry stopped his rant, John started in a soft voice, very confident.
“Let’s go over some of the clues: first, one of these individuals or both has extensive practical knowledge about forensics, high-class call girls, and police procedures. It is extremely unlikely even a gifted academic could acquire this information and the associated practical knowledge by merely researching the subject areas.
Second, some of the forensic tools are so new only a restricted number of technicians are trained and able to use the innovations; then I say it had to be someone who saw these tools and sprays being used and knew how to apply them and the business…”
Terry interrupted. “OK…OK…..I’ve changed my mind; someone definitely had street experience. The way they dealt with the call girl agencies means either a frequent user or someone who knew the business, but for an active cop or a recent resignation, the risk of exposure is too great. Vice cops are known around most hotels. Shit, even the escort staff might recognize them. The street people certainly know most vice- cops, and we have to assume it is not a rookie.”
Manuel stood up and looked at Charlie. “It’s a fucking Hybrid……….a fucking Hybrid.”
“And John before you ask: for a few years Investigative Divisions created and experimented with a unique deployment of staff. A specialized unit worked with Forensics in gathering evidence at a crime scene; Forensic still supervised and managed the scene, but the assigned police personnel did a lot of the grunt work.
Because these guys work both the street and Forensics, they acquired the Hybrid tag. The experiment didn’t pan out, and people were absorbed back onto the force. But with this type of exposure an intelligent individual could absorb the science and the technique.”
The room fell silent again as everyone absorbed and accepted the conclusion. Even Charlie’s tablet remained silent, and the electronic board only carried his list of words from the initial session. Wes walked to the window and stared at the river; Charlie took the time to grab a donut and coffee, and Karen kept on doodling, then broke the silence.
“There were two west coast cities who experimented with those forensic tools….......numerous months before our city, in fact well ahead of any city. If someone from one of those cities is a member of the Five Star Couple, it would explain why they were not worried about being identified by street people or hotel staff.”
Charlie interrupted. He wanted to move. From experience, he found fresh ideas often came when a new direction was started. “Let’s go with that …..assume we are on the right track. What the hell is motivating the pair of them?”
“Christ Charlie, you don’t have to go that deep on these two. There is no logic; both are fucking crazy. In the old world a defense lawyer’s dream for instant notoriety, temporary insanity, just a couple of mixed up kids, take your choice,”
John didn’t miss a beat. “Let’s assume one or both are crazy or borderline wouldn’t something show up on their records? Like the excessive use of force? Or the unjustified use of a weapon? These are people who enjoy violence. If they were on a police force, I don’t see how they could have resisted using violence on some of their arrests or on an encounter in the street. There had to be cases where a criminal would be an easy victim.”
Charlie intervened. “I agree these tendencies would be hard to hide. Let me try this on you: suppose an incident happened which forced a resignation. Now our aggressors are really pissed and ready to step it up. The small taste of violence they’ve had up to this point just became a start, the appetizer.”
Karen jumped in. “We can search records. But if an incident or a blow up occurred, there’s a good chance it may have been hidden or worded with so much double talk you would never recognize it as a forced resignation. Otherwise, that department is announcing they are responsible for turning them loose, and the incident would have received prompt media attention. Hence, the official record could show up as a mere resignation to pursue avenues of greater interest and not a firing for cause or a forced resignation.”
Charlie’s instincts convinced him they’d broken through and he summarized.
“This is good. Next step, each of you has to think about any contacts you have in those two cities, of course, a Human Resources connection would be ideal. It may appear to be a strange way to start, but I share Karen’s concerns that an official reply to a formal request may be sanitized.
I’d like to try the back door first........unofficial……station gossip which tells the tale about someone who enjoyed the heavy hitting too much…..was frustrated by rules and was gently pushed out the door. We look for off the record sentiment that points to someone who was too much, even for the hard-nosed types.
I suggest we keep the search parameters broad and loose. We focus on a man or woman who was employed as a Hybrid. The individual was fired or resigned in the last 12 to 24 months..... hands-on experience with the new forensic tools...... has moved out of that city, and possibly, had some street time with Vice. And if all this doesn’t work, I’ll approach the Chief and we’ll proceed with an official request and get pressure from the top.
Any questions? No. Good. Please get on the phones but be careful; if our target department wants to cover its ass, staff may have been threatened to keep quiet and will be wary of any requests. If word reaches the top, they may freeze us out.
Wes, I want you to coordinate this search. In the meantime, I’ll bring the Chief up to speed. When we catch this couple, we’ll see how good our logic was.
On your way out, help yourself to any of the left-over donuts or muffins…..and…John… Karen…thanks for the help.”
A successful end to a difficult brainstorming pleased the entire group, a sense of fulfillment, satisfied with a tough session. Although they were close, in the end, there would be another surprise waiting for them. As with science, logic was not always foolproof.
# # #
It was late Saturday night.
Stella asleep, Stephen in his study. The house was silent, all dark except for the small lamp which shone onto his monitor. Before he settled into his study, he’d taken the time to mix an extra-large Irish coffee, one of his favorite drinks.
For the last time, he read the query from Regional: two questions demanded an official response: first, since White Rock had completed death row clearance, why wasn’t he fully staffed at Fort Green? Second, was he aware of the rumors circulating about flaws with the S3 interrogation?
Stephen knew his delay opt
ion had run its course. His original plan assumed Kate would have resolved all the issues. Should he be open about the dilemma and try to explain why he had not been frank at the beginning?
He felt the Irish whiskey warm his empty stomach, soothing and relaxing, maybe too relaxing. Stephen pushed the ‘send’ button and Regional headquarters received their reply. Years later he still could not understand why he did it, a brash move for a conservative man.
His response, although rather academic and ponderous, matched the style Regional preferred. But his summary was short and to the point: the delay existed because Forensic, after the observations at White Rock, wished to develop some procedural adjustments to S3 interrogations which should enhance the efficacy of the process. Last, the underlying science for S3 remained sound; rumors were to be expected with all the changes which were taking place.
His position now official and hard wired. If S3 proved defective, he would probably be asked to submit his resignation.
His original rationale had been to buy time, and he decided not to change course. If he allowed the doubts about S3 to surface, Dr. Kate would be swamped with questions, other experts and specialists contending for attention. Dr. Max would demand control, something which would only multiply the complications. His confidence in Dr. Kate remained high; if she had time and no media circus, she could solve the problem. He had to buy her time.
If the S3 Interrogation proved to be fundamentally flawed, at least she would not have to pay the penalty. But, he couldn’t give her more than a few more days, and then he would travel to Regional and make his explanations in person.
CHAPTER 22: Charlie’s Log: concern
Every week or two, my brother, Sam, visits for breakfast.
We finish the main course and are enjoying a coffee at my kitchen island counter. Herbie, Sam’s dog, lounges at my feet, hoping I’ll have a spare piece of bacon or toast, anything will do; he loves my cooking. He’s a mixed breed and, although a large dog, is a gentle creature.
I’m getting a little hot. “Jesus. You’re a clinical psychologist, certified or whatever, surely you can provide a little assistance.”
Sam hesitates; we have been down this road before. “There are numerous reasons why I’m not the best person; the main one, of course, is I’m your brother and too close to be objective. But since you persist I’ll give you two essential truths which will save your life. First, have one beer, then stop because I know blackouts aren’t stopping; second, chase the red head, I mean actually chase her and be nice.”
I smile, thinking Sam will eventually fold. “I won’t even tell you how I screwed up with Red and burnt every bridge which might have existed. So forget that path and listen to me. This is stupid stuff, and I’m just asking for your opinion, no head shrink shit. Alright?”
“Bring it on, you stubborn bastard and by the way, I know about the spring party.”
“Forget the bloody dance. My promotion means more contact with the Judge’s Board, and regular mixing with senior staff, like Doug Brewster and Jacob Konahouse. I will have to attend some of the weekly meetings, reporting and taking questions from Division Heads or their specialists. Senior staff often attend and are expected to participate with probing questions and opinions.
Anyway, my concern is the amount of additional exposure to all these people when I prefer to minimize contact. These exchanges mean stress and you know what happens to my vocabulary and temper when I have to deal with self-serving questions.”
I pause to give Sam some time which he doesn’t need; it helps if you have a thorough understanding of your patient and grown up with him. “Let me guess. You’ve allowed the feud with Jacob to fester. This is ridiculous: two adults at odds because of an incident dating back to high school.”
“OK true. But I also hear Doug Brewster has his sights set on my ass.”
“Is there anyone on the Board that you’ve not pissed off? You insult the Judge yet?”
“No, I think the Judge likes me. Not sure about Dr. Kate and Uncle Willie. I have to..”
Sam interrupts. “Slow down, you haven’t even attended a meeting.
To summarize you’re worried one of these senior staff members will take a run at you and you’ll respond like a pit bull. I suggest you let it play out and see what transpires. Unfortunately, I think you’re right a smart individual who knows you can set it up. His best strategy will be to trigger a hostile exchange to diminish your status and position, to demonstrate your presence at Board meetings is not appropriate.
You’ll be alright when you’re giving a report which you have prepared and are in control; the problems will occur when the questions and the give-and-take start. Here you had best remember your breathing routines and take your time in responding. Don’t rush, it may feel like hours, but it’s only a few seconds delay and you can regain composure. Don’t react, don’t jump.
OK? Let’s go at this again after the first couple of meetings. Just don’t react, when you perceive a threat or insult. Play statute, be still. Play statue.”
“Alright, alright. I don’t like any of this, but I want to stay in Homicide and out of Records, so I have no choice but to attend the damn meetings. Thanks Sam.”
Sam is rather economical with words. He says he gets paid to listen. “No problem brother, and shouldn’t you be running to your first Board meeting?”
“The Judge’s assistant called and said the meeting was canceled until further notice. This is strange; the Judge keeps canceling meetings. You know there doesn’t seem to be time to think. Today there are twists, subtleties and nuances which almost have me spinning. If I ever fall off the wagon, I will be gone for a long time.”
Sam doesn’t understand what I am talking about, and I don’t explain. I don’t tell him about a cop as a possible serial killer, about my suspicions that the Chief is trying to set me up for a fall, or about the wild rumors the Interrogations have failed. Sam laughs, gives me a hug and then is out the door, Herbie at his heels.
These goddamn Board meetings, on and then off, then a canceled emergency session. Stir in grave doubts about the Interrogations, combine all this with my two serial killers and I feel like I’m breaking the speed limit on the freeway and chaos has just merged in from the on-ramp, a potential collision at any moment. This last sentence is my attempt to avoid some more basic terms like shit and fan.
# # #
I’m up and pacing at 2:00 am in the morning.
We’ve very little on that bastard rapist/killer. Karen and I both know it’s only a question of time before his next strike. He won’t stop. We’ve issued a warning to the public, but earlier in the evening I cruised some of the target neighborhoods, the hot spots. From what I saw it appears our warnings are being ignored. The streets were busy, many girls on their own, looking for adventure, easy pickings for a psychopath.
I feel I’m not much help to Karen. Does it mean we have to wait for one more rape/killing and hope he makes a mistake or is spotted? A helluva way to solve a case.
Jesus, the house is empty, only the hum of the refrigerator for company.
CHAPTER 23: Charlie’s Log: first Meeting
I’m nervous. I can feel a tremor in my hands. My imagination?
Finally, I get to attend a Board meeting. And just my luck I run into Jacob Konahouse, head of the Prisons Division. He’s a nasty mouth, and he starts on me immediately.
“Charlie….Charlie. World famous detective and shit disturber. Hope you can behave yourself for a solid hour, and don’t embarrass your Chief.”
I know what Jacob is hoping, and it isn’t for my good fortune. I give him a shot. “Jesus, Jake, you’re out. I see the hospital reinstated day parole. You must’ve been a good boy. It’s always nice when they let sex offenders out for a few hours. Just remember to take your meds.”
He ignores me and goes to his seat. The Chief sees me in the doorway, waves and points to a chair next to him. It’s a large rectangular room, arranged to accommodate the four Divisions w
ith chairs and tables for all in attendance. The front is reserved for the Judge and his assistant. There is an emergency exit at the side and a series of large windows filling the east wall. The other walls are covered with some type of wood paneling, elegant, impressive, an intimidating scenario.
The Judge and the Division Heads are all comfortable with each other, the rapport obvious, the Judge first welcoming all the seconds and deputies who are in attendance. I try not to look over at Emma, who is with Dr. Kate. Since our rather hostile discussion at the Chinese supper, I have learned something else about Emma. Her empathy for the less fortunate runs deep, and she is quick to take umbrage with comments which exhibit a hostile or unsympathetic attitude toward the underdog. Her stance is often seen as naïve and not realistic for a professional in the modern world.
I scan the room one more time, nodding my head to acknowledge people. I know everyone but have never seen them perform in front of the Judge. There is Doug. I’m sure he remembers the time I almost grabbed the pipe out of his mouth; the guy is smart but is always calculating the next move in his career.
And of course, there is Jake. Jacob as he likes to be called.
We have a long belligerent history. Money and ambition rule his life; law and order are only a means to an end. He has built an extensive political network. A persistent rumor is: the Judge never selected him, but he was forced on to the Board by the political masters.
Next, is my boss, Chief Duncan, who promoted me for some strange reason, well maybe not that mysterious. He likes rules and order; he would have had a great career in the military where life revolves around a solid core of regulations for all occasions. The Chief does have a fierce temper, most of the time under control.
The last Division Head is Dr. Kate. She’s a great looking lady and possibly the hardest worker of the lot. I think she’s the star of this group; she has worked long hours to get her team ready and thoroughly familiar with the tools and chemistry of all three Interrogations. On occasion, I encounter low-grade gossip: Kate and the Judge used to play house, but if true it must have been many years ago.
