Squeeze Somebody Else

252

The digital white board is alive. A utilitarian hybrid of files, photos, statistics and tangents, all updated in real time as new intel comes available, is the focal point of our in-flight investigation; media central. As I take a breather and review my cursive field notes, the screen is currently dominated by two individuals, Anton Bartowsky and Cyrus Williams, aka C., aka The Sea. Interestingly three others continue to trend upwards as new data is entered, one Vincent Sarccino, one Jeremy Covington, and one Violet Hayes, aka, Maria Satriano, aka The Queen.

I am starring at the screen trying to beat the cold and complex computer algorithm in the binary game of Catch the Crook. Each attempt going dark as the shortest distance between two, three or four dots is diverted into unknowns, oblivion, and impossible detours. We have been here before, I mentally review, with our go-to response almost always being the razor consistent with William of Occam's; the obvious, or as they like to paraphrase in detective work, 'Get off your ass and go knock on doors.'

Since we cannot knock from our current altitude, we call.

In rapid succession I discover that Davis and Saunders will be in Orlando by seventeen hundred, their new-hire contract informer placed in charge of surveillance in their absence, that Harlan is currently in communication with the law firm handling the case of the pair of kidnappers, and that Vincent Sarccino has something urgent to share. I tap a short-cut button on my phone and three new mug shots instantly appear on the screen, three detailed rap sheets indexed below them - along with red lines and blue dashes indicating possible connections and/or links. I am somewhat bemused to see that the italics below the file photo of Jeremy Covington contains a status report saying he has been granted immunity from felony prosecution by our office. Eyebrows raised, I call Sarccino.

"Yes, Vincent, I was told you have info to pass along."

"Thank you for you efforts with my wife and kid," he begins.

"I gave you my word, you're welcome, and I won't ask you how you got that information - yet - so please continue."

"Orlando is a distraction. The real target is that girl in the clinic, wazername? Satriano? Hayes? The one I was trying to nab."

"How do you know this?"

"The same person who offered the fat contract on you offered the same for her. And when I say fat I mean obese, not just portly. Caveat being a live delivery."

"Who?"

"I don't know how far higher it goes, but my contact is, was, the same guy that pulled the coup and ousted Satriano. It is all about revenge for rejection, guy gets stilted and will stop at nothing for vindication. Orlando should prove that much."

"I'm having a tough time digesting that someone, even a soulless domestic terrorist would kill twenty-six completely innocent people for nothing more than to send a fuck you card to his ex."

"That is where is gets interesting, because there is more. A lot more. That fuck you card was signed by somebody else, C was just the delivery boy. Set up to take the fall."

"By?" I almost scream.

"You'll need to squeeze somebody else for that 'cause I don't know. Honest."