by Matt Lincoln
In the end, it had made more sense for Patel to pose as a buyer anyway, and the bust had gone smoothly. While they took the woman into custody, we made a thorough search of the stall and found records of the woman’s shipments, as well as several kinds of designer bags and wallets. By now, a crowd had formed across the street, and some people even took out their phones and cameras to take pictures as we pulled piles and piles of merchandise out into view. No matter the time of year, Las Vegas was always packed to the brim with people. It was fun, working in such a fast-paced and noisy place, but it could be dangerous too. It was easier to hide inside a crowd, after all.
As we began to wrap up and got ready to return to the office, I couldn’t help but wonder how Agent Patel could afford to indulge in luxury items. It was clear she was familiar with them, and I’d seen her carrying fancy-looking bags to the office before, so I assumed she must have a lot of experience with them. I also knew how much a federal agent made, though. While I wouldn’t say I was struggling by any means, I also couldn’t afford to drop several thousand dollars on a single bag or a wallet on a regular basis.
I ran through the possibilities in my head. My first thought was family money, but I discarded it quickly. While it was possible that Agent Patel came from a wealthy background, she’d made an offhand remark this past Christmas about how she wasn’t in contact with her parents. By itself, the comment didn’t necessarily mean much, but the icy way in which she had said it made me think that she didn’t have a good relationship with them. It was unlikely then that the source of her discretionary spending was her family.
“You’re wondering how I can afford high-end bags, aren’t you?” Patel asked, jolting me out of my thoughts. I sputtered for a moment before answering.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Well, I didn’t,” Patel shrugged. “It was just a hunch. But now that you’ve confirmed it, I know for sure.” She smiled slyly. I felt dumb for having admitted it so easily.
“Well, I didn’t want to be rude or anything by asking,” I said as we made it back to the car.
“It’s understandable,” Patel smiled. “We work the same job, so you’re bound to know what the salary range is. You’re smart enough to put the pieces together and perceptive enough to wonder about things that don’t add up. It’s a good quality in a federal agent. So tell me, what are your theories?”
“My first was a wealthy background,” I answered honestly as Patel started the car and pulled onto the Strip. “But I don’t think that’s it. In prior interactions, I’ve noticed you don’t usually talk about your family, and any time you do, you don’t seem happy about it. My safest bet would be to assume that you made a lot of money wherever you worked previously.”
“Nicely done, Agent Chapman,” Patel said with a smile. “Right on all counts. I don’t get along with my family. You’re right about that. And before I started working for MBLIS, I worked for the US Embassy in India. I’m sure it won’t surprise you, but politicians tend to make good money. And I just so happen to have a penchant for well-made luxury goods.”
“Why did you quit, if you don’t mind me asking?” I wondered aloud. Patel’s smile fell, and her eyes darkened for just a moment before she arranged her features into a carefully composed mask.
“Family issues,” she responded curtly. “And I was tired of being all talk and no action, as things tend to be at that level of government. I decided I could do more here for the United States, both for myself and for others.” It was a perfectly polite and diplomatic answer, but I could feel that the atmosphere in the car had soured.
“How many purses do you have?” I asked, saying the first thing I could think of to change the subject.
“I’m not sure,” Patel answered, tilting her head a little as she thought. “Maybe fifteen or twenty in total. Although I only use about five regularly. The rest are for special occasions or when I travel. Why? Are you thinking of buying one for your girlfriend?” Patel smirked at me.
“Oh, no, I don’t have- I mean, no, I was just wondering since you seemed to know so much about them,” I corrected her quickly, wanting to move away from that particular sore point.
All my life, I had been so relentless in my pursuit to become a federal agent that I hadn’t really bothered to make time for a social life. Aside from the other agents at work, I didn’t actually have any friends, and my dating history was abysmal. Not for lack of trying. It was just hard to know what to do when most people fumble through the ins and outs of dating in their teens. I was rapidly approaching my mid-twenties and was only just now figuring all that out.
“I’m only teasing you, Agent Chapman,” Patel shook her head. “Anyway, this was a fairly open and shut case, wasn’t it? Aside from a little paperwork, there shouldn’t be much else for us to do.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I doubt Wallace is going to send us all the way to China just for a counterfeiting case.” There were times when it just wasn’t worth the money or manpower to push a case further than the surface. In this case, we were unlikely to get anywhere, anyway, since counterfeiting was such a rampant issue in China. There was little to no chance that they would extradite the supplier, so the best we could do was stop this particular flow into the United States. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but there never was one. I’d learned over the past few months that even when we solved a case, there was always some loose end or sliver of mystery left to investigate. We could only do the best we could and go from there.
We made it back to the office in just a few minutes since our building was located right off the Strip. I’d always thought it was a good location since we’d be able to get to any part of the city fairly quickly. Plus, our office was on the top floor of the building, which granted us an amazing view of the towering casinos and hotels. Any time we worked late, it was nice to be able to look out the windows and see all the glittering neon lights of the city.
“Hey, Junior, can I talk to you?” Fiona approached me as soon as we got back.
We’d been starting to get along the past few months, ever since we discovered that we both shared an interest in video games. She’d come out of her shell a lot in that time. Even though she was still shy and soft-spoken, she chatted with me a lot more than she used to.
“Sure, what’s up?” I asked as I set my things down at my desk.
“Remember that case from three months ago?” She asked. “The one with the tigers. Your first one with MBLIS. Remember how we never figured out who the main supplier was?”
“Yes,” I answered slowly, hoping that I was right about where she was going with this.
“Well, I researched that flower symbol,” she responded. “The one that was on all the crates. Remember? It was driving me crazy that even though we closed the case, we didn’t know who it was. I started doing searches in my free time, and for a long time, nothing came up. But then, I found this.”
She pulled a tablet from her bag and set it down on my desk. I recoiled instinctively as I took in the image of a dead body lying in a dumpster. It appeared badly burned, as the skin looked blackened and blistered.
“And this has to do with the other case? How?” I asked. I had seen some awful things on the job, but that didn’t mean I liked being presented with it unexpectedly.
“I found this on the back of her neck,” Fiona muttered, swiping the screen to the next photo. On this one was an image of a patch of unburnt skin, although it took me a moment to realize it was the back of the person’s neck. There, on a tiny patch of unmarred skin, was a tattoo of the exact same flower symbol. “Whoever killed her tried to burn her body to hide the evidence. Her hair managed to protect this part of her neck, which is why the tattoo is still visible.”
“Who is she?” I asked as I studied the photo. Most of the body was so badly burned that it was impossible to tell at first glance that it was even a woman.
“She’s an unidentified Jane Doe,” Fiona said. “Trash collectors found her body in Chicago a few
days ago. She was so burned that it was impossible to make a positive identification. I know it’s not much, but it’s the only thing we’ve found so far. And someone clearly wanted to get rid of any evidence of who she was.”
“Not much?” I asked incredulously. “Fiona, this is huge. There’s no way that tattoo is a coincidence. I don’t know how, but this is connected to the animal trafficking case, without a doubt. Have you talked to Wallace about it?” Fiona’s eyes went wide at the suggestion.
“No, I haven’t,” she mumbled, wringing her hands. “I mean, we don’t have any proof that it’s connected. What if we’re wrong? I don’t want to waste the agency’s time or resources chasing a case in Chicago that could lead nowhere.”
“There’s no harm in just talking to him about it,” I smiled encouragingly. “Let’s go right now. I’ll come with you.”
Fiona looked like she’d rather do anything else but then took a deep breath and nodded. I was happy that she agreed. I’d come to learn that Fiona was cripplingly shy and tended to just stay quiet even when she had something to say. It was good to see that she was making progress in speaking up. We walked over to Wallace’s office, and I knocked twice.
“Come in,” Wallace’s baritone voice boomed from inside. “Agent Chapman and Agent Gardner. What brings you into my office today?” As usual, Director Wallace smiled at us and spoke in a jovial way that reminded me of my grandfather.
“Agent Gardner found something,” I declared, getting right to the point. “It could be nothing, but I truly believe it’s connected somehow to the cat trafficking case.” I took the tablet Fiona had shown me and handed it to Wallace. His face turned grave as he took in the pictures.
“I really think we should look into this,” I finished once he’d looked at the pictures and handed the tablet back to me. Wallace closed his eyes and seemed to be thinking for a moment.
“I agree that there is a clear connection here,” Wallace nodded. “Unfortunately, we won’t be able to investigate.”
“Why not?” I blurted out. It was a bad habit I had picked up from Charlie.
“We don’t have any jurisdiction to investigate a case in Chicago,” Wallace said, pointedly ignoring my interruption. “MBLIS is an international investigative agency. Right now, there’s nothing to suggest that this crime involved any other countries. Right now, it’s just a homicide.”
“But the flower tattoo, isn’t that proof?” Fiona asked quietly. Her voice was shaking, and it was clear that it was taking a lot of effort for her to disagree with the boss. “That symbol surfaced repeatedly during the investigation of an international crime. Isn’t that an indication that her death had something to do with an international organization?”
Wallace looked at her sympathetically. “I’m afraid not. Not on its own, anyway. All the tattoo tells us is that she was in some way involved with the organization. For all we know, she might have been working with them, and her death is completely unrelated. Heck, we can’t be certain that she had anything to do with them at all. The symbol is unique, but we can’t fully discount the possibility that it’s just a coincidence.”
Fiona looked gutted, and I hoped this wouldn’t discourage her from speaking up more in the future.
“Now, I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” Wallace smiled sadly. “I’m only saying the onus is on us to prove that this case falls under our jurisdiction. Right now, we just don’t have enough to go on. I can’t legally use agency time or resources to investigate.”
“I understand, sir,” I conceded, although inside, I felt discouraged.
“That being said, I’m pretty impressed with the two of you,” Wallace stated, offering each of us a small smile. “You showed incredible initiative taking the time to investigate this. I’m glad to have both of you as agents.” His words were like a salve on an open wound, and I felt a little better as we trudged back out of his office.
I turned to Fiona to offer some words of encouragement, but to my surprise, she didn’t seem upset. Her brow was set, and she looked like she was thinking hard about something.
“He can’t waste company time or resources on this. That’s what he said, right?” Fiona mumbled.
“Well, not in those words,” I answered. It hadn’t seemed nearly as brusque when Wallace had said it. Fiona just waved me off.
“Semantics,” she shrugged dismissively. “But that was it, right? So all that means is that we can still look into this, as long as it’s on our time. As long as we don’t do it while we’re working or using any of the agency’s stuff, we should be good, right?”
“Oh, well, I guess that’s true,” I agreed, “But how would we even do it? Can you still investigate without using your work computer?” Fiona gave me a look I’d never seen her make before. She raised one eyebrow and smirked in a way that was frighteningly reminiscent of Agent Patel.
“Oh, please,” she replied. “My setup at home is way more intense than what I have here at work.”
“Seriously?” I asked, glancing into her office. She had several monitors, machines, keyboards, and all manner of things I could hardly hope to identify. I couldn’t imagine her personal setup being more complex.
“Yep. I used to do a lot of freelance tech security work before I joined MBLIS,” she explained. “And before that… well, I used to be a hacker, kind of. Not exactly the most legal of enterprises, but I certainly learned a lot in the time I spent doing that.” She glanced around the room as if someone might be listening to us. Patel was at her desk, probably doing the paperwork from our case earlier. Charlie and Castillo were out following up on a potential lead for a new case.
“So, you think you can investigate from home? And you want to spend your free time doing that?” I asked.
“Yes, I can, and I want to,” she insisted. “Why, do you not want to? I understand if you don’t. You probably don’t want to give up all your free time for a case that might not even lead anywhere.”
“No, I want to,” I assured her. “It just seems like a pretty big undertaking on top of work.”
“That’s true,” Fiona sighed. “Although, it’s not like it’s been busy around here lately. Personally, I could use something fun to do.”
Before I could respond, the double doors at the front of the office burst open, and Charlie stepped inside. Even from this distance, I could tell he was fuming.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“Waste of time,” he grumbled as he dropped his bag onto his desk and plopped down into his chair.
“What do you mean? Weren’t you investigating a series of bomb threats?” I asked as Castillo followed him in, looking pretty annoyed as well.
“It was just some stupid kid,” Charlie scowled. “He wanted to get out of finals, so he sent a bomb threat to his own school and used a VPN to reroute his location overseas. Then, as if that little plan wasn’t brilliant enough, he decided to send bomb threats to several other schools to try to throw us off his trail. All that little idiot did was start a city-wide panic.”
“As if the world wasn’t messed up enough,” Castillo complained, tearing off her jacket and tossing it over the back of her chair before sitting down. “The last thing we need is some little punk calling in fake threats, wasting our time, and scaring half of Las Vegas’s parents half to death.” I tried to hide a smile as I watched the two of them, noting how similar their personalities were.
“What are you laughing at?” Charlie snapped, and I pretended to cough.
“Nothing,” I replied innocently. Charlie was already in a foul mood, and I knew he wouldn’t appreciate the comparison. He and Miranda tended to butt heads, probably because they were so alike. They were rarely partnered together for this reason, but on the rare occasions that they were, they tended to come back to the office in bad moods. It just so happened that today they directed their anger at a third party.
“Agents Castillo and Hills, I’m glad you're back,” Nelson said, appearing out of nowhere and walking into the b
ullpen toward us. It was actually kind of impressive how quickly and silently he could move, even while needing a cane. He had his own desk at the far end but tended to spend most of his time in Wallace’s office. Usually, when he was in the bullpen, it was because he had a case for us. “How did the investigation go?”
“It was just some kid trying to get out of school,” Charlie muttered, clearly annoyed.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nelson smiled. “After all, that’s a much better outcome than having several schools be attacked.”
Charlie and Miranda both looked chagrined then. I felt bad for them. I knew they were both adrenaline junkies bored out of their minds with how peaceful things had been lately.
“Anyway, Agent Hills, I’d like you and Agent Chapman to follow up on a new lead,” he continued. “A possible illegal arms trafficking case in California, just an hour away from here. We believe the guns are coming in from somewhere in Europe. The investigation is still in the preliminary stages. A SWAT raid uncovered an arsenal of illegal weaponry, and we’d like you to go out and speak to the arresting officers to see if this is a case that should fall under our jurisdiction.”
“Alright, let’s go,” Charlie urged, standing up again.
“Let me just get my things,” I said, quickly gathering up my laptop and investigative materials. Since this was just a preliminary meeting, there probably wouldn’t be much actual investigating going on, but I liked to be prepared. As we made our way down into the underground parking garage, I wondered if Charlie might be interested in joining Fiona’s investigation.
