“All right, pops, you’ve got yourself a date. See you in the morning.” She picked up her Scotch and got up to walk away. After a couple of steps she stopped and turned back to him. “In the meantime, do you have any objections to me enjoying whatever it is this little soiree has to offer?”
“Well, that’s what I intend to do, so as long as you’re at the diner for eight and you’re in a fit state to do some proper police work . . . ” He nodded at the drink in her hand. “Then what you do in between now and then is of no concern to me.”
Coop grabbed his drink and walked to re-join his family; she followed closely behind. As they approached the table, Chris looked up and smiled. “What have you two been up to?” He inquired.
His father spoke before Maria had a chance to open her mouth. “Would you believe it Andrew, she’s been bugging me for the secret of my Southwestern omelet recipe.”
The inebriated female detective looked more confused than everyone else at the table as she tried to keep up with his story. The brothers glanced incredulously at each other then directed their attention back to their father.
“Erm, dad,” Chris smirked, “I’m Christopher and that young man over there is your other son, Andrew.”
His brother gave him a sarcastic wave of acknowledgement. “Hi. It’s me.”
The elder looked from one to the other; obviously trying to work out which of his sons was Christopher. “Well put your damn glasses on boy,” he said in an attempt to redeem himself, “how the hell are we supposed to tell you two apart otherwise?”
“Are you wearing contacts bro?” Andy asked, his brother nodded. “I would have thought with all this money you have floating round you would have at least afforded to have your eyes lasered instead of…”
“I’m thinking of it.” His brother cut him off.
“Oh good Lord, if you get that done I’ll never be able to distinguish between you guys.” Their father said sarcastically.
“Like I was saying,” the detective continued, “if you spent your money on things that mattered…”
“Are you jealous of one or two little luxuries I’ve afforded myself?” The executive said modestly.
“Little luxuries!” Andy exclaimed looking at the main house and around the expansive garden. “All I’m saying brother is, can a new Porsche make sure your health is intact or even more so, your families health. Priorities.” He tapped his index finger on the table as if making his point then sat back in his seat leaving the party in an awkward silence.
“I don’t think your eyesight really matters in this case Andy.” Coop broke the silence. “Your vision is gonna be pretty much blurred if you drive a car that goes naught to sixty in a few seconds.”
The partygoers began to laugh at the dry wit of the elder man causing the detective to concede.
“Very funny dad.” He smiled. “Hang on, Maria Hernandez wants a recipe for something that isn’t a cocktail? No, come on… seriously. What were you talking about over there?”
“He is being serious,” she interjected. “I’m all about the omelets; can’t get enough of those bad boys.”
Andy’s skepticism was apparent as he looked at her. “Do you even own a frying pan?” he huffed, and decided not to push the point. “I just don’t see you as a domestic goddess. Dirty Harry with a spatula?” Then putting on his best Clint Eastwood voice he went on to mock her. “I know what you’re thinking; did I use three eggs or four eggs? Question is, you feeling lucky, punk? Go ahead, punk, make my omelet.”
Everyone at the table laughed at Andy’s impression, and even though she was the brunt of his joke, Maria began to laugh too. “Fuck you, partner.” She smiled as she fired off the comment.
As the laughter died down, Maria looked around the table and devilishly decided to sit next to Miller.
Meanwhile, Coop sat himself next to Chris, who was at the head of the table. “So, son, what is this party in honor of, anyway?” he inquired.
“Well, thanks mainly to Miller down there,” he pointed at his employee, who held his hand up and gave a shy wave, “I’ve just acquired a new business for an unbelievably low price, and now AppTech stands to make a very tidy sum from the deal. So,” he smiled broadly, “I thought I would spread the wealth with the people who made it all possible.” He gestured with his hands at everyone in attendance.
“That’s my boy.” His proud father patted him on the shoulder. “Smart, and never forgets the people who are important to him.”
“You taught me well, Dad.” He looked at his father. “You always said—”
“A king is only as good as his legions. Treat them well and you will reign for a long time,” the elder interjected.
“In that case,” Chris rose from his seat, his glass of champagne in his hand, “I propose a toast.” He raised his glass. “To my legions; my trustworthy staff, my loving family, and to the future of AppTech. Thank you, everybody. Cheers.”
Everybody raised their glass and joined in the toast. Then one by one they began to applaud their king, who sat down and, to Andy, he seemed to revel in the adoration.
For a while the party continued. The conversation flowed, as did the alcohol and food. Andy noticed the Scotch had really taken hold of Maria; she was getting audibly louder and more obnoxious as she held court with the AppTech staff, reciting her version of events in the boss’s office a few days earlier.
“So, I’ve got my Glock pressed up against his temple, begging this fucker to move so I can put a hole in him.” As she spoke she was slapping Miller on the knee to emphasize who she was referring to. “Next thing I know he’s pissed himself right in front of the boss.”
She laughed while the programmer looked very uncomfortable; his face had gone rosy red with embarrassment. Every guest’s attention was now drawn to the conversation.
“All right, Maria, it’s time to let it go. Leave the kid alone now,” Andy chastised his partner.
“It’s all right, he knows I’m only joking. Don’t you, piss quick,” she said as she again patted him on the knee.
Miller moved awkwardly and grimaced. It was clear to everyone that he was not in any way enjoying the moment. An awkward silence cloaked the event until Chris came to the rescue. He signaled to the waiter.
“Can we get refills on the champagne all around?” he ordered in an almost regal tone. The waiter hurried away. “Right, can someone please turn the music up? This is meant to be a party!” He ordered cheerfully. “Maria, how about you and I get the dancing started?”
He stood up and walked towards her, extending his hand in her direction. Andy watched the scene unfold; bracing himself for the tirade of abuse that he was sure would flow from her mouth. Instead, what happened next shocked everyone.
She reached out and grabbed Chris’s hand. Then, with her other hand, she grabbed Miller and dragged him along. As they made their way to the poolside, which was the designated dancing area, the embarrassed programmer kept looking over his shoulder. The nervous look of uncertainty on his face brought a few stifled laughs from the people still seated.
Coop stood up and took Catherine’s hand. “Come on, they say there’s safety in numbers. Let’s go keep that poor boy safe.”
Gradually, everyone stood up and made their way to the dance area. Even Andy got up after a little gentle coaxing from Kim.
The party continued into the early evening, until one by one they all left.
The Genesis Chamber
Chapter 8
Coop sat alone at the end of the counter in the diner, reading the morning paper. He looked around at the early-morning customers, who were mostly cops refueling their caffeine levels. He looked at his watch; eight thirty-four.
“Damn you, woman, punctuality is a virtue,” he muttered to himself.
He looked out of the window and saw the familiar sight of Maria’s vehicle pulling into the parking lot and intently watched her slender frame extract itself from the masculine muscle car. She began to make her way into the di
ner but suddenly stopped after a few steps, cursed, and slapped herself on the side of the head. Then she turned and headed back to the vehicle. Once there she impatiently opened the door, leaned in, and retrieved a pile of files. As she closed the door, a few documents fluttered to ground as they fell out of the folder. Cursing again, she quickly scooped them up and walked briskly into the diner. As soon as she entered she caught sight of Coop waving her over.
“I said eight a.m.!” he snapped. “Not eight thirty-six, not seven forty-nine; eight a.m.” He banged his finger down onto the table to emphasize his point.
“Not entirely my fault, old timer,” she said in a dismissive tone. “Those fucking do-gooder sons of yours are to blame.” He looked quizzically at her as she continued. “Get this. Apparently, I was far too wasted to drive home last night after the party, so they made me take a cab. As they had already taken my gun, I couldn’t protest too much.” He grinned as she started getting louder and her tone became more aggressive. “So, at seven a.m. I ordered a cab to go back and pick up my vehicle and service weapon from Chris’s house,” she ranted. “Seven fifteen the rat bastard turned up and proceeds to drive like Miss Daisy. I eventually got to Chris’s at about seven forty and was told by the maid that Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were still sleeping, and she does not have access to the safe. I did tell her who I was, but she point-blankly refused to get Chris. So I had to jump in the car and high-tail it over here.”
Coop looked to be studying her; she was visibly agitated by retelling the tale. “So, it took you just under an hour to make a twenty-five-minute journey?” he inquired.
She erupted into full flow, her eyes growing larger as she raged on. “Not quite; we have our wonderful colleagues of the Florida Highway Patrol to thank for that. I was trying to make up time so I put the pedal to the metal and those fuckers caught me doing seventy-five; bastards.” She pulled out her speeding ticket to show him.
He began laughing and gestured for her to sit down. She placed the files on the counter then sat down, while he signaled to Beth to bring two coffees. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this once; but it’s the first and last time, do you understand?” he said in a stern voice.
“Roger that. Do you know anyone at FHP who can get me out of this?” She waved the ticket at him.
“That’s your problem. You sort it out.” He nodded towards the files. “Let’s get down to business. What have we got here?”
“These are the files on all of the kids that have gone missing in the last two months.” She looked at him. “You must know someone at FHP; you know everyone.”
He dismissed her last comment and nodded at the files once more. “So, does anything spring out at you?”
She took the top file, opened it up, and flicked through until she found a paper that she had made notes on. “Nothing individually, but there is an average of 100 kids who go missing every month in the state of Florida.” She paused and looked at him to see if he was taking the information in, then returned to the statistics on the paper. “However, according to these files, over the last two months there has been an average of thirty kids aged between ten and fifteen who’ve gone missing within a fifty-mile radius of here alone.”
“Are you sure?” He looked directly at her. “That seems like an awful lot of kids to just disappear.”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. According to a paper published by the MCN—” “And the MCN is…?” he interrupted.
“The Missing Children’s Network,” she responded, as if he should have known that. “It’s some charitable organization that puts out flyers in an attempt to locate runaways.”
He nodded at her as if giving her permission to continue.
“Anyway, according to those guys, only twenty-one percent of missing kids get reported,” she finished.
He looked thoughtful; it was as if he was trying to comprehend the scale of what she had told him. “So, let me make sure I’m clear on this. You’re saying this figure of thirty kids could be as many as one hundred and fifty kids missing?” He looked genuinely shocked.
She held her hands up. “I’m not saying anything. I’m just telling you what I’ve learned.” Her tone had a hint of smugness about it.
“That’s a hell of a lot of kids. I can’t believe that no alarm bells are ringing at the precinct.” He paused to compose himself and looked around the diner.
A young family caught his attention; he watched them enjoying their breakfast. The baby, no older than two, was laughing as the dad made silly noises while the mother cradled the child in her arms. All three started laughing.
Coop turned back to Maria. “Well, I think we need to do some digging on this.” He pointed to the young family. “We owe it to people like that to make sure they can let their kids play in a safe environment.” He paused, then absently said, “One hundred and fifty kids a month; how is that even possible?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“I know, old man, it’s fucking shocking. So, what are ‘we’ going to do about it?” she asked.
He looked thoughtful again. “I think the best plan of attack is for you to leave these files with me and let me go through them thoroughly, see if I can see something you might have missed.” He placed his hand on top of the files. “Am I all right to hold onto these?”
“I had a feeling that’s what you would want, so these are all copies. You can have them as long as you want, as long as nobody knows; fucking data protection.” She grinned at him.
“All right. While I go through these, can you find out if there are any ongoing investigations on any of these cases? If so, find out the status of the investigation.” He had switched to cop mode, and looked to be enjoying having something to get his teeth into, even something as unimaginable as this.
“It’s going to take me a couple of days to chase this up, old man.” She stopped and looked a little flustered, as if trying to find the courage to ask something.
He must have picked up on this unusual behavior. “Anything else?” he asked.
“Well, just one thing.” For an instant she looked like a vulnerable girl, a look that was rare for her. She looked like she was summoning the courage to ask for something. Then, she retrieved the speeding ticket from her pocket and held it up in front of him. “Seriously, do you know anyone at FHP?”
He began laughing and snatched the ticket out of her hand. “Leave it with me. I’ll take care of it.”
Maria stood up and kissed Coop on the cheek. “Thanks, old man. I’ll get straight on this first thing. It’s going to make things a little difficult as I have to be secretive, but I’ll try my best.” She pulled a five dollar bill from her pocket and threw it on the counter. “If that’s all, I’m out of here. See you tomorrow.” She smiled at him and turned to walk away but before she had taken three steps he called after her.
“Hey, Hernandez.” She stopped and turned around. “That’s some damn good police work you’ve done.”
“Hell yeah, it is.” She gave a beaming smile, turned towards the door and walked off.
Coop shook his head, laughing to himself; he watched her get into her vehicle and exit the parking lot before turning his attention back to the files. He chose the top file, opened it up, and began reading. He stopped when he saw the name at the top of the page.
Sergeant Simon Percival. He looked again in disbelief, then under his breath he muttered, “Son of a bitch.”
The Genesis Chamber
Chapter 9
The atmosphere was less tense in the isolated cabin as the wolf decided which record he thought would be appropriate for the moment. He delicately let his finger touch the spine of every cover as he moved his hand from right to left along his prized vinyl collection, then suddenly stopped and moved back a few records to retrieve his choice. He perused the cover for a moment and gently slid the vinyl disc out, blew off any possible dust, and placed it on the player. With the push of a button, the arm mechanically moved across and lowered the needle onto the record. The sound
of an acoustic guitar filled the cabin, followed by the haunting voice of the late Johnny Cash singing “Hurt.”
I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
Wolf mouthed the words as he entered the kitchen, picked up two meals that had been prepared, and made his way into the dining area. He placed one meal in front of his guest, then seated himself opposite to him. His guest wore the usual pig mask and red baseball cap, and waited patiently for the host to sit before starting to eat.
“Do you like Johnny Cash?” Wolf asked.
“Take him or leave him,” the guest nonchalantly replied before putting his cutlery down. “So, how does this work? What’s with the masks and caps?”
Wolf put his cutlery down. “The masks are for safety. If you don’t know who I am, you can’t mistakenly identify me if something goes wrong and you are detained by the authorities.”
The guest acknowledged the reasoning with a nod. “Good thinking. But you know who I am.”
Wolf nodded. “You have been specially chosen because of your previous activities. Now, listen very carefully.”
Wolf picked his cutlery up and proceeded to cut his steak into small pieces. “I will give you a description of the desired target. You will make contact and bring him to me. Then you will have the pleasure of whatever gets you off. After that you can leave.”
“What about the kid?” The guest continued eating.
“You don’t need to know what happens after you leave; just be certain that you will never see that kid again.” Wolf put a piece of food in his mouth and stared at his guest. “Do you have a problem with that?”
The guest shifted in his seat. “No.”
“Good.” Wolf put his cutlery down again, wiped his mouth and stood up. “Would you like a drink with your food?”
The Genesis Chamber Page 6
