Title: Lost Souls
Chapter: 2 – International Flavor
Author: ctrl_issue
Fandom(s): CSI:NY/Mermaid Saga/PotC
Rating: T for Teen (for cursing, for violence, and for now)
Pairings: Flack/Sheldon, Sparrow/Norrington, Messer/"Montana"
Disclaimer: If you know it, I don't own it. And chances are, even if you DON'T know it, I don't own it.
Summary: Sometimes there are Lost Souls that wander this world, and no amount of science will ever be able to explain the how or the why.
Author's Notes: Done for NaNoWriMo, so don't expect quality here folks. It's just that the premise of this amuses me. Funnily enough, whenever I tell anyone, whether online or in real life, that this is my NaNo project, I inevitably get the same response. "For gods' sakes, why?!" Well, really. There are tons of reasons. I mean, why not? It can be done, but no one else is doing it. I felt like it. I thought it would be funny. See, the list goes on. At any rate, please keep in mind that NONE of these are "my" fandoms. I've never written in any of them before. Hell, I've barely read anything for CSI:NY. As such, you should be prepared for some OOCness going on here. I figure that's okay for NaNo. If I feel like it afterwards, I'll go back and edit things so that it's more… palatable. *snerk* Also, can you spot the OTHER fandom I included in this chapter?
Word Count So Far: 10.136 for the first chapter, plus 10.018
Lost Souls
James watched as the other two men left the room. Specifically, he watched their reaction to his entrance, and the way they looked to the man behind the desk before they vacated the area. All three had stood when he had entered. 'But only one of them will remain. The man supposedly in charge.'
He had worked with and above a variety of types of men and women as both a constable and then later as a field agent for Interpol. On first blush, he could tell that the youngest man in the room was the blue-eyed tall fellow. The small, dark-skinned man was someone to be respected, though, as the man behind the desk relaxed when they shared a glance.
Finally, it was just him and the man behind the desk.
"I'm Detective Mac Taylor." The American said, his accent thick with something not very common to Americans on the television programs he favored.
'But then, when is life ever like the television.' James thought to himself as he held out his hand. "I am sorry to just barge in here like this, but you and your people are on a very important case that has to be treated very, very, VERY delicately."
"I take it you're here about the human trafficking?" Mac asked as he sat back down. He indicated a seat opposite him for James to take. "I was wondering who was pulling the Fed's strings, but I have to admit, I didn't think it would be Interpol."
Easing into the still warm seat vacated by the smaller of the two former guests, James smirked. "Officially, yes, that is exactly why I am here. And might I say, your Feds were not very happy about having their strings pulled by us, either. You Americans… you do not like playing with the rest of us."
"I think it really depends on the game," Mac retorted, one eyebrow quirking upward. "However, you say that you're here officially for one reason. Unofficially?"
"Members of your team are investigating a death by poison," James said. "I've had experience with the group that tends to use said poison, as rare as the usage is. I've had it flagged across the globe, in case someone else ever reports finding it."
"You're talking about the poison used by the Mermaids." Mac said rather than asked.
"Indeed," James said as he leaned back into the chair. Thankfully, he had already been across the pond, so he wasn't too jetlagged, but he still wasn't quite used to this time zone. "I first ran across it when I was working an arms case in Singapore."
"What can you tell me about the poison?"
"What can you tell me about your people?" James countered.
Mac sat up, his hackles obviously up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, Detective, that while I will be working very closely with your federal government for the human trafficking case, I'm going to be working even more closely with your agents that are working on THIS case. And I hope they're good."
Mac narrowed his eyes. "The two men who just left my office are the two who are working on this case. Detective Donnie Flack is a career police officer, and this is by no means his first case working a poisoning, a B and E, or an investigation. The other is Doctor Sheldon Hawkes, a medical professional as well as a Grade-A scientist. They're two of the best that I've got, and I've got some damn fine individuals working under me.
"I see," James nodded. "Well, other than this particular poison comes from some rare fish that has never seen the light of day outside of small, rural fishing villages and the closed circle for the Mermaids themselves? There are no actual records, written records of this fish existing. Nothing about it's actual appearance. But I can say that it is a very large fish. It only takes a small amount to kill a person, but they've fed over a twenty-five people with one fish alone. I know, I had to count the bodies."
"What are its scales like?"
"There have never been any recovered."
"What?" Mac asked, a bit stunned.
"All we have ever been able to find is the meat, which carries the poison," James sighed as he shook his head. "So, tell me, Detective Taylor, how is it that you have a doctor working a case?"
"Question for question, huh? Interesting game."
"I find in these kind of situations, especially where you are going to start off hating me no matter what I do, it is easier to get all of the important questions out of the way first."
Mac grinned as he leaned back in his own chair. "Hate is a very strong word. But to answer your question, this is precinct is actually part of a very large experiment. There are a total of three like it, one here, one in Las Vegas, and one in Miami. Basically, the CSI team works very closely with regular detectives, to the point of interviewing and interrogating suspects, canvassing, and other roles usually reserved for beat cops and detectives. It's thought that with a more rounded, scientific view of the crime and crime scene we, as officers, are more likely to apprehend the correct criminal."
"And how's the arrest record as opposed to a regular precinct?"
"Our arrest record is about average," Mac replied easily. "But our conviction rate is top notch."
"Impressive."
"Let me ask you," Mac said, a devilish glint in his eyes. "If you're in charge of the human trafficking case… who do you have working the warehouse scene?"
'He wants to play the field like this, does he? Fine, give him what he wants for now if it gets me what I want. Those girls are going to pay for what they did.' James grinned as he rubbed his chin, "Off the top of my head, I have no idea. But I'm more than welcome to suggestions."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Stella flipped through some of the papers she had picked up from the active files caseload.
"What do you have there?" A familiar voice asked.
Glancing up, Stella smiled. "Shelley Richie's case file."
"Oh, you want in on it?" Sheldon asked, amusement in his voice. "Don't you guys have enough going on?"
"Well, now that we're probably not going to be in on the human trafficking case anymore, I thought I would have some free time. And since you've been assigned what seems to be a tricky case…"
"Don't worry, Stella," Sheldon said as he shook his head. "This case is about as straight-forward as they come. We've already got almost all the evidence finished, the only thing I'm waiting for right now is to verify if some of the hairs I found on her were from her assailant or if they were from her dog."
"Her dog?"
"It's a Maltese. She had allergies, so she went with a special breed. Both her dog and her assailant have long white hair, so… I'm waiting for DNA test results."
"Which," Stella sighed. "We are somewhat backed up on."
"Hey, who knew we were going to have one of the machines break?" Sheldon shrugged helplessly. He took the file from her and absently flipped through it, though she knew him well enough to know that no matter how far away his thoughts might appear, he was still checking to make sure all the information was still in the file. 'Can't be too careful these days. Security and safety just aren't what they used to be.' "I'm about to go in there and do it the old fashioned way, so if you want to come in and help me out…"
"That's okay," Stella snickered. "I trust you can handle it."
"Stella!" Mac called from the door to his office.
Turning to her boss, she gave him a look.
"Gather the others, we've got the case after all."
'Well, well, well… I wonder what's happened in the last five minutes…' Stella nodded curtly. "I'll get them right now."
Turning back to Sheldon she saw that he was turning to go to the lab, as he had sad he would. Gently grabbing him by the arm, she asked, "Hey, are we still having dinner tonight?"
"Well, unless that restaurant up and leaves," he teased. "I know I'm good for it."
"Great. I'll see you at eight," she smiled, relieved. She had no interest in Sheldon, but she liked that he would go to different places with her and try them out, which she supposed was why he went to a lot of different sights around the city with as many different women. Not because there was anything romantic or sexual, but just for the companionship and fun of it.
He nodded and continued on to the DNA lab.
She turned to the break area to gather Lindsay and Danny.
"-I'm just saying… tofu isn't a real food." Danny said as he put a few quarters in the machine for a soda.
"It's made from soybeans, and is incredibly healthy for you," Lindsay countered as she stirred her drink.
"Hey, you two," Stella said, breaking in to their conversations. "Mac wants us in his office."
"Yeah?" Danny asked as he reached down for his prize. Standing again, he asked, "What's up?"
"Seems we're getting that case after all."
"Oh?" Lindsay asked, taking the lead between the two younger investigators.
The three of them made the quick walk to Mac's office. As they approached, Stella took note of the tall stranger with the pale green eyes that was sitting perched on the edge of Mac's desk. 'Wonder who that is? Seems relaxed, although Mac seems to be on his guard. We'll soon find out, I guess.'
She entered the room and sat down, Lindsay taking the seat next to her and Danny leaning against the back wall.
"Team," Mac said, acknowledging all of them, "I'd like you to meet Inspector James Norrington from Interpol."
Danny gave a low whistle and even Stella had to sit back in her chair. "Interpol?"
"Indeed," the young inspector said in a thick British accent.
"So…" Lindsay began, her eyes flickering between the agent and Mac.
"He's here regarding two cases," Mac explained moving to his seat.
"Interpol is very interested in the human trafficking case, as we're not sure where the head of this beast is, or rather we do not know where the need originates," James said, beginning the informal meeting. "The tail in, the places where this particular group recruits is across the spectrum. Europe, Asia, Australia, the Americas. No place is safe, and nothing is sacred. The only way we know that it is the same group is that they tend to go for the pregnant women, or those that are close to giving birth."
"The babies," Lindsay nodded.
"Those are their prize."
"Do you think that this is some weird, I dunno, adoption kind of thing?" Danny asked.
"If that were the case, things would be a lot simpler. I would almost want it to be that."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because there have been rare occasions where we've recovered the bodies of some of the children, usually a few years later."
"Bodies?"
"Always bodies. Never a live one." James sighed.
Stella could practically feel the rage coming off of Danny, and knew that he, especially, hated it when children were the victim. Clearing her throat with a light cough, she looked the inspector over from head to foot and back up again. "Mac says you are going to be working on two cases? This isn't a high enough priority that it warrants your full attention?"
James grinned at her, and though she knew it had to be coming, she still felt her heart do a slight flutter and her cheeks tinge with heat. "Oh, make no mistake, this is of UTMOST importance. Interpol is more interested in getting to the head and heart of this operation."
"But?"
"But this is not my top priority," James continued to grin. "There is another case that is being investigated here that I am much more invested in."
"Which one?" Lindsay asked.
"A mysterious death by poison." James said, and all the amusement and laughter drained away, leaving someone much more somber.
"It's the Jane Doe that Hawkes and Flack are working on." Mac informed them quietly.
"As I will be devoting most of my time and focus to that case, I will need to have some very reliable and thorough investigators under my direction for the human trafficking case." James continued. "People that know what they're doing and do not need to be micromanaged."
"Us," Stella said with a small smirk.
"I must warn you all, though. I am going on your Detective Taylor's word that this is the case," the inspector cautioned them. "Do not, under any circumstances, ruin this. There are too many lives at stake, and the threads are far too tenuous."
"We know our jobs, Inspector."
"As you say, Detective," James said. "Now, about the Jane Doe…"
"I saw Sheldon headed towards the lab."
"Lindsay, will you show Inspector Norrington here the way?"
"Sure thing," Lindsay agreed easily.
Stella watched the two leave, and then turned back to Mac. She saw the former marine pick up the phone and dial an extension.
"Who ya callin'?" Danny asked, moving to take the seat that Lindsay had just vacated.
"Hawkes," Mac replied. "Might as well warn him about his newest assistant."
0-0-0-0-0-0
James entered the cluttered evidence room. 'No, not cluttered, as that would promote contamination of evidence. Everything has a place and everything is in said place. This is more of a controlled chaos art form.' Looking around, and sometimes through, the glass walls and table, James tried to find the person he needed most.
"Dr. Hawkes?"
The petite doctor looked up from one of the far tables, dark framed glasses highlighting his natural pleasing aesthetics. "Agent Norrington?"
"Call me James," the former constable replied automatically.
"James, then," the doctor grinned.
"So, shall I be calling you Dr. Hawkes while we work together, or do you have a preferred name?" James asked as he found a stool to sit on.
The smaller man eyed him suspiciously, but a slight twist of the mouth and quirk of the eyebrow gave away some of his thoughts. "I guess that depends on how closely you want us to be working on this case."
"As far as I'm concerned, Sheldon," James said, taking the initiative. "This case is my main focus."
"You seem to be taking this one pretty personally." Sheldon said as he removed his gloves. "What's the story behind it?"
"Mmm," James grinned and shook his head, causing some of the longer locks of hair to fall towards his face. "This is a case full of mystery and memories for me. The first I prefer to think on while I'm sober, the second tend to dwell on while I am decidedly NOT sober."
"Bad memories, huh?"
"Our lives are full of them, and each with a story or five to tell." James smiled slightly as he nodded towards the table. 'And you are not going to be getting the full story. Not unless I'm near death again, or until they are all apprehended.' "Speaking of which, what is the story being told with what you are working on?"
"Oh, this?" Sheldon said as he gestured to the table. "This isn't in regards to our case."
"No?" James asked. "That's unfortunate. Seems it would be a bit more straightforward than what I'm used to with these girls."
"Hmmm," Sheldon murmured with a smile. He jerked his chin in another direction. "I'm actually waiting on results of the stomach contents from our Jane Doe. Now that I can factor out what chemical components make the poison, I can figure out what else was in there with her dinner."
"You think whoever it was that poisoned the girl mixed it with her food?" the inspector asked, surprised. "You don't think it WAS her dinner?"
"If she just went with the poison, why was there so much extra food in her stomach?" Sheldon asked. "Now, granted, there wasn't much, but there was enough to get trace samples of."
"The poison is very fast acting sometimes," James warned. "Sometimes it can happen as soon as the first bite is ingested. Sometimes it takes a day or two. And some people are seemingly immune to the poison. As far as I am aware, there is no real timeline for the poison's effects."
"That's because every person is different," Sheldon nodded. "For instance, take a group of people and the same mixed drink. Some people will feel a slight buzz with the first sip, some people it takes half a bottle, plus mixing. Different backgrounds, different heights, different weights, different body types. There are even some races that feel the effects of alcohol differently than others. And going with the analogy that drugs are like other poisons, just in different doses, it is easy to see how people would react differently to a poison administered, especially if it were with a food."
James looked at the petite doctor for a moment and then grinned. "I can see why your Detective Taylor admires you so much."
A machine went off with a series of beeps before it began to spew papers. Sheldon went over to them, grinning. "I wouldn't say Mac admires me so much as respects what I know and do."
"And how is that any different than what I said?" James asked.
"There is a difference," Sheldon assured him as he went over the chemical components that were printed out before him. "Hmmm…"
"Hmmm?" a new voice called out, interrupting James and Sheldon's privacy.
Sheldon looked up immediately, and the small smile before turned into something a bit more genuine. "Hey Flack, how up-to-date are you with sushi restaurants?"
"I prefer my meat cooked, thank you," Flack answered as he came further into the room, those blue eyes going over him with careful scrutiny. He moved to stand almost protectively close to Sheldon, well within the smaller man's personal space, even by European standards. "This the Interpol Inspector?"
"That would be me," James replied carefully. 'What are you looking for, kid? What are you watching out for?' Instead of voicing his curiosity, though, the British born investigator grinned benignly and asked, "Not into the exotic?"
"I like exotic just fine," Flack corrected, "But I'm not into poisoning myself with uncooked meat. You know how unhealthy that is?"
James raised an eyebrow. "Last I heard, Americans were anything but healthy."
"You would be surprised at what some of us are willing to put up with to have a healthy, long life." Sheldon said, breaking back into the conversation. "And, if not long, then at least at least happy."
"Now that I can believe," James grinned charmingly at Sheldon, though he kept his attention if not his eyes on the detective practically hovering nearby. "I do remember enough of my lore to know that most Americans are a bit hedonistic."
Sheldon snickered while Flack just rolled his eyes.
"Hey now, some of us aren't just out for jollies."
"I don't know, Detective Flack," James countered. "We're all out for what pleases us most, just what pleases one doesn't please the other."
"And before this degenerates into a conversation that none of us really want to get into," Sheldon interjected, obviously deciding to play the peace-maker, "we need to get back to the question about the sushi place."
"I know a few places, why?" Flack said, his angry eyes still on James.
"Because there's only one place I know of that serves sushi using Jade Pearl rice," Sheldon murmured. "But I have no idea what the place is called."
"How do you know about it, then?" James asked.
"I've been there," the doctor replied as he went back to the other side of the room. He put the papers down and reached into his pocket. James watched with quiet curiosity as the man pulled out his cell phone and dialed a quick number.
Deciding to leave the other man to his phone call, the older Brit turned to the other detective. "So, Detective Flack-"
"You know I don't care what you have to say to me, right?" Flack said, rudely placing his cards on the table. "You have a personal vendetta against whoever is behind this murder, and I get that, but I also know that when these things get personal, people get hurt. Good people. I don't want you to get the good doctor hurt."
"Thank you for being so blunt," James replied dryly. "I would never have guessed you felt that way considering the dirty looks you've been throwing at me since the minute you stepped through that door."
"Yeah, well," Flack answered in kind. "I just don't want there to be any cultural misunderstandings."
James snorted as he shook his head. "America and England really ARE two countries divided by the same language, now, aren't we."
"And once we've interviewed the people at the sushi place," Sheldon said, interrupting them, "and you two are done with your displays of bravado-"
"Hey!" Flack said, waving his hands in front of him. "I wasn't-"
"Trying to ruffle his feathers by displaying your own, it happens all the time in nature." Sheldon said with a quirk to his eyebrow. "I never expected to see it happen in my lab, though, especially by creatures that do not have feathers."
"Marking his territory," James nodded. "As a doctor, you should know that humans are just like any other animal, and we are all very particular about who we allow in our territories. Especially when foreign guests appear so unexpectedly."
"Exactly," Sheldon agreed, obviously giving the younger detective a way out. "But as I was saying, we can also go have a word with the manager at Knight's Landing Security, who installed the security system at Black Pearl, and who routinely make and destroy keycards for them."
"Sounds like a full afternoon," James commented as he stood back up. "Let's be off, shall we?"
0-0-0-0-0-0
Stella stood between Mac and Lindsay as they all looked towards the warehouse.
Back at the lab, Stella could still see the boxes and boxes and more boxes of evidence gathered by the Feds. Blood samples from the floor, pictures of the crime scene, shell casings, and litter. But not a single body to be found.
Danny was there, sorting and refilling and trying to get a computerized version of the scene going with the evidence they already had.
"So, where do we start?" Lindsay asked as she picked up her case.
"You can start with the front room. Stella, you take the left hall. I'll take the right."
"Okay," Stella said, "You take the high road, and I'll take the low road."
"And you'll get to Scotland before me?"
"Something like that," Stella smirked.
The three walked into the warehouse, turning on the lights as they moved.
"It's a shame we didn't have the lights on earlier," Lindsay said as she sat her case down in what appeared to be a relatively clean location. She knelt down to put on her gloves and grab her camera. "It would have made this place a little less creepy."
"I don't know," Stella said as she eyed the left hallway, and it's flickering, swinging lights. 'This place has to be as old as dirt. It's a wonder it's still standing.' "Something tells me that it would have just made me a bit more apprehensive."
"It's not the fear of the dark that's the most frightening," Mac acknowledged. "It's the fear of the unseen, the unknown."
"I once had a friend who was so terrified of the dark that she couldn't sleep alone. She always had to have someone in the room with her."
"What happened to her?" Stella asked, mystified that anyone could be so dependent on others.
"Not a month after she turned eighteen, she was engaged. She was getting graduation gifts and wedding presents all in the same month." Lindsay answered calmly, already snapping more pictures of the scene.
Stella shook her head as she donned her own gloves.
First came the pictures and measurements of the hallway, making sure to get each available scratch and grove along the hallway. As she made her way further and further away from the main entranceway and deeper towards the hole in the floor, she began to notice that some of the scratches on the floor were more like claw marks, dragging against the floor. Frowning, she took one of her measuring angles to get a better-documented account of the gauges.
As the flash went off, a tiny reflective shimmer caught her attention.
"Bingo," she murmured. She dug went back to her case and got out her tweezers. With delicate precision, she pried the shiny piece of flesh away from the wooden floorboard of the warehouse. "Now, what are you and what are you doing here?"
"Find something?" Lindsay asked.
"Some odd material," Stella said as she bagged the evidence. "I think it might be fish scales, but I'll test them when we get back to the lab."
"The feds were really good about collecting their evidence," Lindsay said with a sigh. She came to just inside the hallway, but made no move to get further in. "The floors are completely spotless of trash and shell casings, and while I can take pictures of the scene until the cows come home, I don't think I'm going to be getting anything useful from the walls that hasn't already been gotten."
"So, try the ceiling," Stella replied dryly as she turned to regard the younger investigator.
Lindsay opened her mouth as if to object, but then, tilted her head, as if she suddenly thought of something. "You know, that's not such a bad idea…"
Stella blinked. "Lindsay, I was joking."
"But I imagine that the ceiling is one place that they did not look, since it's so dark and ugly up there. It's still fairly low, blood splatter and GSR might still have reached up there. If nothing else, it will give us some clues as to where shots were fired and maybe where others were shot and at what angle."
Stella pursed her lips and thought about. In the end, though, she had to concede the point. "Okay then, good luck."
With a quirky smile, the younger female turned and walked back into her main area.
Hours later, when every square inch of the two main hallways and main entrance were recorded, including the ceilings, Stella took off her gloves with a grateful sigh.
"And just think, there are several other hallways, and we haven't even touched the main storage room." Mac said as he began taking of his gloves.
"That's tomorrow, yes?" Stella asked as she tried to pop her back, or at least relieve some of the stiffness.
"For now. Our cases are full and I for one have ran out of film. I want to get back to the lab and get fresh gear," Mac said. "Plus, I've been thinking…"
"Oh?"
"I'd like to try and interview the person who owns the warehouse, see what they know about this incident. See if we can track down who rented it for the occasion, or if it was supposedly vacant."
"Don't we have a file on that back at the lab?"
"I called Danny to ask, but he hasn't found a single reference to an interview with the owner of the warehouse, which leads me to believe that none was conducted."
"That's odd."
"I'll say. You would think that the feds would at least try to get every scrap of information they could about the place."
"Maybe they didn't want to tip the owner and renter off that something was up?"
"It's a thought and worth keeping in mind." Mac tilted his head to the side as he thought about it, his eyes going distant. "But I still want an interview with the owner of this place."
"Well, we can see if he's available," Stella said as she picked up her case.
"Lindsay?" Mac called out.
"Yeah?"
"Will you take this to the lab, bring back some fresh supplies?" Mac asked.
"Sure," she answered. "Mind if I ask what you two will be up to in the mean time?"
"Going for a short walk," Mac replied. "Down a long bridge."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Sheldon stood between Flack and James as the three walked down a back alley to the sushi restaurant. 'Probably trying to keep the peace between us.' James thought as he looked around at the unsettling scenery.
"You actually took a date here?" Flack asked as he looked around the area.
Like many other back alleys n New York, the walls were covered with graffiti and the ground was lined with trash and homeless. There was an unpleasant smell to the air, and the shadows caused by the tall buildings around them made the short trip amazingly cold.
"It was her idea," Sheldon replied nonchalantly. Turning his head to look at the taller detective, he informed him, "And we could handle ourselves."
"Still seems sketchy to me," Flack said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Life is all about the journey to some," Sheldon retorted as he made a sharp turn into a previously unseen alcove. "And the destination to others."
James allowed the American detective to enter ahead of him, keeping his eyes out on the rest of the world. He didn't see anyone down either direction of the alley, so he felt safe enough entering the establishment.
And what an establishment it was!
The floor was clear glass overlooking an aquarium, with live fish swimming just underfoot. The walls were made of water and glass, waterfalls and bubbles. There were colorful sculptures of reefs and underwater life all around them. Even the ceiling had fish, as the entire room seemed to play on the idea of them being underwater. Past the small hostess booth, there were dimly lit tables scattered about a spacious main room.
But the most impressive feature had to have been the center of the room where the main source of light for the room seemed to be coming from. The ceiling and floor were joined together by a giant fish tank. And while James had seen some people decorate their more miniscule aquariums with mock-ups of divers and clamshells, or sunken ships, this cylinder enclosure seemed to be housing a life-sized, resting mermaid.
The sculpture itself was a tribute to both the legend as well as the stone working craft. 'That has to be made of stone. Metal would rust in there, and wood would rot. What else could it be?' In her arms, she held two eggs, cleverly covering her bare breasts. Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the top of her head, with two bone white pins seemingly keeping the knot in place.
"Welcome to Miss Isago's Sushi House. Three to your party?"
James noticed that he wasn't the only one of their party caught unaware, as all three of them turned quickly to look at the young Asian hostess who greeted them.
She stood up to Sheldon's shoulder, and for all of James abilities, he oculd only hazard a guess at her age. 'She's sixteen. Maybe. Pretty. But far too young.' She wore an all black outfit that had an almost militant cut to it. Her ebony hair was tied back in a tight bun, with two pale white sticks keeping it in place, very much like those worn by the mermaid. 'Young, but professional.'
He and Flack flashed their badges at the same time, though he allowed the American to speak first.
"We're not here to eat, ma'am," the blue-eyed detective said kindly. "We're here hoping you can help us identify someone."
"Oh," she said, placing her hands behind her back and coming to a military-style parade rest. "Okay. My name is Sherri. Please, if I can be of any assistance."
The three shared a look before Sheldon pulled out a picture of the Jane Doe. "Do you remember seeing this young woman last night?"
"We see many women every night," the girl replied. Even so, she held out her hand to accept the photograph. "But perhaps, if she was remarkable…"
Sheldon held out the photograph.
She took the picture gently, and only then did James realize that she was wearing black gloves that matched the rest of her outfit. 'No prints to run, even if we needed them. That doesn't speak of a suspicious nature at all, oh no.'
"No, she does not look remarkable," the young woman said. "Not remarkable in the least. Very common, in fact. Although, she does appear to be quite dead."
"She is," Flack told her.
"Do you know who else might have been working last night? Maybe they might remember her?" Sheldon continued.
"Mm, what time?" Sherri asked. "We had different waitresses at different times."
"It would have been late yesterday." Sheldon replied softly.
"Mm, that would have been the Miyako sisters."
"Can we get some contact information?" Flack asked.
"Of course," she nodded as she went to the hostess station. She pulled out a small business card and began to quickly write down a number.
"Sherri!" Came a sharp, oddly accented cry from the shadows of the bar area.
"Yes, Mamma-Sama?" Sherri asked, stopping all that she was doing and looking towards the voice.
"Why have you not seated our guests?"
"We're here for an official investigation." James said as he flashed his badge once more.
"Oooh, Interpol," the woman chuckled as she came into view.
She was as Nordic as the hostess was Asian. Her blond hair was set in a tangle of curls atop her head, cascading down beautifully. She stood as tall as Flack did, which was only a few inches shorter than James. Her eyes were as pale blue as a summer sky in the Caribbean, and her skin was… flawless.
All in all, she looked to be a work of art come to life.
Until she spoke.
"International police, doing the work of the American police? Or is it the other way around this time?"
"Just an investigation into the death of a young woman," James said stiffly. "And the clues have led us here. And you would be?"
"My name is Mia Sake. And those clues would be?"
"Part of an on-going investigation." Sheldon answered smoothly.
"Of course," the older woman said.
"They are asking for the Miyako sisters' phone numbers."
"For what purpose?"
"To ask them if they have seen an unremarkable woman who seems to have gotten herself killed."
The blue-eyed woman snorted. "If they paid attention to anyone or anything other than money, it would be a sign of the end of times. But you can go ahead and ask them."
"If you do not mind me asking," James said, eyeing the woman. "Who is the owner of this establishment?"
"I am," the blond answered proudly. "My husband, God rest his soul, bought this… place for me. His wedding present, to be precise."
"I see," James nodded. "And have you ever been to Japan?"
"Many times," she smiled. She walked gracefully over to one of the bench where countless others had probably waited for an available table. "I actually grew up there, but I go back every few years to see my… family, as well as find new and interesting things to bring home."
"Oh?" James persisted. "Is that where you met your late husband?"
"Yes," Mia smiled, though her voice held no hint at wistfulness. "We met in a small fishing village in the Hyogo Prefecture. He was a wealthy businessman, and I… worked in a noodle shop."
"So, what, you two get married and come here to start a new life?"
"There are others of my family that live here," she said simply as she looked between the three of them. "Now, if that is all?"
"Do you know of any other restaurants that use Jade Pearl in their sushi dishes."
"We are the only ones in the city," the blond woman said proudly, sitting up taller and puffing out her chest. "The others prefer to use long grain white or jasmine, and then there are some that use brown rice. But we are the only ones to use Jade Pearl. It is very difficult to use for sushi."
"I see," Sheldon said, his eyes narrowing. "What about where you get your meat?"
"The fish market, first thing in the morning. Fresh fish is best fish."
"Thank you," Sheldon said, nodding to the woman.
"Thanks," Flack said right after, still eyeing the woman suspiciously.
James couldn't blame him, as he continued to keep his distance from the blond. He nodded his appreciation for her help as he walked over to the door, taking the lead on the way out.
"If you can think of anything that can help us," Sheldon said to Sherri. James turned to see him hand the young woman a business card. "Please, contact us."
She made an almost unseen look to Mia before she gave a respectful bow to Sheldon. "If I remember, I will call."
The three of them left the restaurant, somehow more on guard than when they had first entered.
"So, where to next?" James asked, eyeing the door.
"Security," Flack said. "Check the hardware of the keycard and see if hey can give us any insights to whether or not another skeleton key was made."
"And then…" Sheldon mused aloud. "I think I'd like to check out the docks, see where they get their fish. Maybe one of the fishermen might know where that exotic fish came from."
"And what did I tell you about giving out your business cards to people?" Flack asked, looking pointedly at Sheldon.
"That you are the detective, and that the only business card I should be giving out is yours," Sheldon replied with a sigh.
"That's right," Flack retorted. "So, why, exactly, did you give that little girl your business card?"
"I didn't."
"I saw you!"
"No, you saw me hand her a business card. You did not see me hand her MY business card."
"Oh," Flack said, all of the wind suddenly out of his bluster. "Well… who's card was it?"
"Yours."
"Mine?" The taller American asked, surprise naked in his voice. "When did you steal my cards?"
Sheldon smirked as he continued to walk, but did not answer the question. Instead he gave James a decidedly wicked look.
"Well," Flack sighed. "At least you've started to listen to me."
As the three of them walked out of the alley, James turned to look back the way they had come. No one was down the alleyway, and the only thing moving was the trash that littered the ground. However, as he turned to look forward again, an odd movement of shadow caught his eye. When he tried to focus on it, though, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary.
"You comin', Inspector?" Flack asked from up ahead.
"Yes, yes," James replied distractedly. When nothing else caught his attention, no other odd movements or flickerings, the British born inspector turned his attention back to his American compatriots. "Just enjoying the sights of your American tourist attractions."
"First time you've been to America?" Sheldon asked.
"Indeed," James nodded as he picked up his pace. "Although I feel that it will not be my last."
0-0-0-0-0-0
A tiny bell chimed as Mac opened the door to the warehouse owner's office. Inside, there were three people of various ages milling about. One was a young black female with her arms filled with folders and files. The second was an Indian black man with thinning hair, his portly belly causing his shirt to stretch to within an inch of his life. The third and final person in the room was a knockout of a white woman, somewhere in her early thirties with round glasses and black hair that reached to her mid-back.
The office smelled of old coffee and mildew, but was surprisingly uncluttered. The carpet underfoot felt a bit off, as if there were only wood planks underneath it. There were a few potted plants here and there, but otherwise, the place seemed more organized than Stella could have hoped for.
"Who are you and what do you want?" The dark-haired woman asked in a thick Russian accent as turned to the detectives, crossing her arms as she did so.
"I'm Detective Mac Taylor," Mac said. He nodded towards Stella and said, "And this is my associate, Detective Stella Bonasara."
"Ah, you are here about the raid earlier today," she said. She nodded towards the heavyset Indian man. "I will return with my… partner and we shall be seeing if the price of renting one of your storage sheds comes down any."
"And I told you, Miss Cobray, that the price is fixed. This aint some kind of market place bazaar where you can try to haggle the price. This is America, and when I say it costs two grand per month, I mean that it cost two grand per month!"
The raven-haired woman made a very rude sound as she strode away from the obvious owner and out the door.
"That woman ain't nothing but trouble," the aged man sighed as he shuffled over to the larger of the two desks in the room. "Mark my words, Jezebel, she's gonna be back and she's gonna be trouble."
"Yes, sir," the young woman said. She eyed the two detectives suspiciously before she headed over to the filing cabinets.
"Welcome, my friends. My name is Peter." The man said. "So, what can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you could tell me about the person who rented the warehouse that was raided this morning."
"Well, like I told that federal agent guy, it was rented by a real bombshell of a girl, real sweet piece," he said.
From the filing cabinets, Jezebel snorted in annoyance. "You say that about all the blonds!"
"But this one really was!" he said.
"Whatever, old man," she retorted. "Just remember that your wife can come in here at any time and hear you."
"Oiy! Don't curse me like that!" Peter said with a mock shiver. He turned his attention back to the dectives. "But you want to know more about this beautiful woman, yes?"
"Yes," Stella smiled.
"Well, I can tell you she didn't look or sound like trouble when she came in here. But she did pay in cash, which isn't that uncommon around here," the old man said. "And I can tell you that she was from a fine area, she smelled like expensive perfume."
"Do you have a name?"
Turning back to the girl, Peter called out, "Jezebel!"
"I already gave the Feds a copy of the file, do you want me to make another?" she asked suspiciously.
"Be nice to the cops," Peter warned. "No telling when you're going to need their help."
The young woman gave him a look that spoke volumes, but put down the files she held in her hand and went over to her computer. With a few quick clicks, she went back to the filing cabinet and went to one of the lower drawers. Kneeling down, she opened the drawer and pulled out a copy of the file.
"You don't keep them in numeric number?" Mac asked as he eyed the file.
"We want discretion here," Jezebel said. "But we also want to be able to find things. I have it set up in the computer that every new renter gets a new file. A proper sorting method gives me the ability to pull up which shed they rent, time, payment history, even when they activate and deactivate the security that may or may not come standard with the place."
"Did this specific warehouse have security?"
"Nope," she replied. "Didn't want it. Said they had their own brand of security. And if what I heard that went down in there is true, I'd say their brand of security is pretty damn effective, whatever it was."
"A bit too effective," Mac warned.
Looking over his shoulder at the file, Stella noticed there was an ID of the renter. 'Bombshell is right. If she can take this good of a Driver's License, she had to be absolutely stunning in person.' "I see you got a copy of her ID."
"It only makes sense," Jezebel retorted. "She's paying cash, we still need some proof of who she is. Otherwise…"
"Otherwise there's trouble," Peter nodded. "My Jezebel, she's a smart girl. Named for a troublesome woman, she was but she fights fire with fire!"
"Indeed she is a smart young lady," Mac agreed. "And you're lucky she's here. She's going to keep you out of trouble."
"Big time," Stella murmured.
"Flattery will get you guys nowhere," the young woman in question sighed. "But if you can give me about five minutes, I can make another copy for you guys so maybe you can get somewhere other than here."
"What your tongue," Peter warned. "I swear-"
"I'll be making copies," Jezebel said, interrupting her employer.
"I swear," Peter sighed as he watched her retreat to the back room. "Women and girls… nothing but trouble. The whole lot of them."
Stella caught Mac trying not to laugh.
"Maybe," Stella said tightly. "But we get things done."
0-0-0-0-0-0
James sighed as he tossed his suit jacket onto his hotel chair. 'Dead tired doesn't even begin to describe how I feel. At least I had lunch.' Walking further into the room, he noticed that his things had already been brought up to the room. "At least that's a universal thing. Money does buy you comfort, even if it can't buy you … anything else."
He strode into the bathroom and began undressing, placing his clothes neatly in a stack, off to the side. While he did so, he avoided looking at the mirror, a habit he had acquired after the last time he had investigated the Mermaids.
Just as he was about to begin brushing his teeth, his phone went off. Frowning he grabbed it and noticed an unfamiliar number. 'But then, all the numbers around here are unfamiliar.' With a deft click, he answered, "This is Inspector Norrington."
"Norrington, it's Taylor," came a distinct voice. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time."
James looked down, noticing that he was only wearing his boxers, and that he still had his toothbrush in his hand. Rolling his eyes, he replied, "Not at all. How can I be of assistance, Detective?"
"I was wondering if you could tell me how Interpol knew where the traffickers were going to be."
James's eyebrows rose at the audacity of the question. "Are you questioning our research skills, or do you have another point to make?"
"It's just… my team and I went and spoke with the owner of the warehouse. He said that one of the Feds interviewed him, but there's no record of it in any of the files that were provided. Not only that, but the man was able to provide an ID on the woman who rented the space," Mac said, trying to explain his stance. "So, since your people and the Feds didn't follow that lead, I'm wondering how that warehouse was even targeted."
"Ah, I see." James said as he put his toothbrush down. He walked over to his bed to sit down and began to explain, "We went with a tip about a cargo ship, code named Flying Dutchman. Said to have left a decent sized port in eastern Asia and was headed here. Normally, it would have made more sense for that ship to go to San Francisco, a much closer port, but this particular ship was vested into coming to New York. A little bit of further digging granted us a shipman who didn't make the boat."
"And the crewman told you where the ship was located?"
"No, but a search of his home gave us all the information we needed." James said. "We contacted the American authorities and tried to use negotiations and talk to get them to intervene. When that didn't work, or rather when that just prolonged the process, we started pulling strings."
"Which was why the Feds were suddenly all over this case."
"Exactly."
"Is Interpol in the habit of fighting dirty?"
'Some are,' James thought uncharitably. "Interpol is in the habit of getting drugs, slavers, and killers off the streets and into jails. We don't care whose jails. We are, however, always mindful of international law, and customs of the land on which we walk."
"Meaning you're willing to bend the rules if that's the custom of the country you are working in."
"I follow the rules, Detective," James warned him. "They are there for a reason."
"But not everyone does."
"No, not everyone does," James conceded. "And they are more of the fool for it, too."
"So, did you know about any interviews with the owner of the warehouse?"
"To be blunt, Detective, I wasn't paying that close attention to it. I've been more caught up with the poisoning case," James answered honestly. "But I gave you all the files that Interpol could pry from the Feds. If your American government is hording their information, there is very little I can do at this point."
"So, no way you can pull a few more strings?"
"Not even if I felt that the situation called for it," James replied.
"I see," Mac sighed over the phone. "Well… how is your case going?"
"Slowly," James said. "But, I'm hopeful."
"Do you mind my asking… why are you so focused on this case? Did one of the Mermaids attack you or someone you were close to?"
"No, nothing like that." James replied, he looked to the side, to the mirror above the hotel dresser.
And for a moment, he saw someone else's reflection. Someone a bit more haggard with longer, paler brown hair. There was a bloody red stain on his white blouse. But no matter his appearance, he still had James's green eyes.
Turning away quickly, James tried to return to the conversation. Pinching the bridge of his nose to avoid rubbing a scar he had just under his left breast, he asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Detective?"
"You can answer my question."
"Perhaps another time," James replied shakily. 'Perhaps another lifetime, in fact.'
"Then no, there's nothing else right now."
"Good," James sighed, relieved. "Then I shall see you at some point tomorrow morning, after I have visited your fishing docks."
"Oh?"
"Your Doctor Hawkes wants to see if any of the fishermen are bringing in exotic meats."
"Good idea," Mac said, and James could swear he could almost feel the man nodding on the other end of the phone. "Well, you had best get some sleep."
"I know," James sighed. "They pull into the harbor at an ungodly hour of the morning."
Mac chuckled on the other end. "Not a morning person?"
"Hardly." James retorted. "But, good night, Detective."
"Good night, Inspector."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Stella smiled as she saw Sheldon enter the small restaurant. He was of course dressed as immaculately as he could be considering he had just enough time to get off work, get home to shower and change, and to get over here. She stood up to get his attention, and saw his face light up with a long familiar smile. "Hey there, stranger."
"Hey yourself," he retorted as he wrapped his arms around her in a platonic hug.
From the moment she had met the petite doctor, Stella had felt unthreatened by him. The relaxed feeling was helped by the fact that she was taller than him as well as by the sense that he was never sexually interested in her. She got more of a vibe from Mac and Flack than she did with Sheldon. When she had discovered his 'dirty little secret', it had come as more of a "huh" moment than anything else.
Although, the fact that she caught him in the middle of a kiss with someone he didn't feel like introducing her to was probably as embarrassing for him as it was for her, but that was neither here nor there. Nothing was really said about the incident, but she did mention to him that it didn't change anything for her.
Of course, after that, their relationship did change and went on a decidedly different course. It became a relationship that seemed to be one where they were more of siblings than coworkers, but that was only when they were off the clock. During work hours, Sheldon was nothing but professional. 'You can't pick your family… unless you do. And I think I've picked mine well.'
Letting go of the hug, the two turned back to the host.
A short wait later, the two were seated at a quiet table in the back and very few people around them. They were given bread and water as well as menus. And then they were left alone to talk and review their dinner options.
"Want to split an appetizer?" Stella asked, eyeing the calamari.
"Depends on which one you want," Sheldon replied.
"What are you in the mood for?" She asked as she peered over her menu.
"We were at a sushi place earlier today, so I'm thinking seafood is going to be on the menu tonight," the dark-skinned doctor answered.
"Good, then calamari it is," she nodded decisively. "So, was the sushi place part of the investigation or… something else?"
"Investigation, why?"
"Well, if it was investigation of the poisoning case, I know not to eat there," Stella grinned wickedly. "But if it was for fun, then I would want to check it out."
"It's a nice place," Sheldon answered. "I've eaten there before."
"Yeah?"
"Mmhmm. My friend Julia really likes the place," he answered. "I think it's because of the floors, which are all glass looking down into a pond kind of thing. There are fountains all over the place, too. Very nice, very trendy, and very expensive."
"I bet," she replied.
"So how is your case going?"
"It's… going." Stella sighed. "Lots of work to process. Lots of blood and lots of area."
"Sounds like you guys are going to be tied up for a while."
"I'm not planning on seeing my apartment for a while," Stella replied sadly. "Which it's a good thing that me and Mac are single and that Lindsay and Danny are seeing each other."
"No one to get jealous," Sheldon chimed in with a rueful grin.
"Speaking of special some-ones….?"
"Don't go there," her date warned her.
She blinked at him before she took a sip of her water. As if on cue, the waiter came back to their table. They ordered drinks and an appetizer, as well as their entrees. Once the waiter was gone, the two leaned forward to talk quietly again.
"Was it that bad?" Stella asked. "I mean, you seemed to really like him…"
"Until I got him out on his own, away from his comfort zones," Sheldon replied dryly. "Like the book store and his favorite coffee shop."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Stella asked, completely confused.
"Mud is more interesting," Sheldon answered, irritated. "He barely spoke, and when he did, it was quiet and mumbled. There just... wasn't any life to him."
"I'm sorry," she said with a wince. "I'd say there were more fish in the sea-"
"Please, no fish jokes," Sheldon replied with a ghost of a smile. "It's been a long day, and it's going to be an even earlier morning, and I can already tell that I am going to be up to the gills with fish jokes and puns."
"Oh?"
Sheldon looked around before he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "Our Jane Doe was found with a key to the building she was discovered in. We had hoped that it would give us another avenue to investigate. Suffice it to say, the keycard seems to be a dead end. While it looks like it belongs to the building, the actual design inside is completely foreign."
"So…?"
"So this means that Investigator Norrington, Flack, and myself will be down at the docks bright and early tomorrow morning at four to see what the catch of the day is, and if anyone has ever brought in anything more exotic than shark."
"Ahh," Stella said with a nod of her head. "So, you've spent the day with Investigator Norrington. What do you think of him?"
Sheldon grinned wickedly at her. "Why, are you interested?"
"As if," she laughed. "My luck is even worse than yours. It seems just about every man I date in the past few years turns into a psychotic killer. I'm thinking staying single for a while might be the smarter plan, at least until we've locked up a few more of the crazies."
"I don't know, crazy might be fun," Sheldon said wistfully. "Better than boring any day."
"So?" Stella persisted. "Which is he? Crazy or boring?"
"Well," the doctor said as he looked up in memories. "He seems… very by the book when it comes to the actual procedures, but he isn't stiff or cold while he works. He's a bit… mathematical about it."
"Boring?"
"I wouldn't go that far," Sheldon said hesitantly. "He… I don't know. He just reminds me of an older, more mature, even-tempered Flack. He has a goal, and he's very passionate about it."
"As opposed to Flack, who is ruled primarily by his passions and his ties to people," Stella said quietly. They had had tried to profile their coworkers often enough in the past, trying to figure out the relations between their coworkers and themselves as well as trying to figure out how each other perceived the world. "So, his passion is tempered by…?"
"By experience, but it is that experience that gives him his passion."
"He sounds complicated."
"You asked," Sheldon said with a shrug.
"So? What else?"
"He's gay, if that's where you are going with this."
"He is? Are you sure?" Stella asked. "I mean, it could be that he's, you know, European."