Chapter Three: Sniff Out
As Lorelai led the way back to shore on the back of her own Lapras, I did my best to stay calm. I told myself that just because one of the attackers had a Carvahna didn't necessarily mean I was on the trail of one of the bastards I'd been chasing since I was 17. Lots of criminals like Dark-types, fully half of the Aquas who'd been caught had one or more.
It didn't matter. There was a feeling in the very air around me, echoes of the sensation that had run down my spine when Looker set me on the hunt for Arabella. I'd have been enthusiastic in my pursuit of the people who attacked the preserve anyway, but now that I had this hunch that I might be looking for a very specific Aqua Grunt? Oh, Lorelai and Oak were going to get my best work.
That grunt was going to get my very best work.
That just left the one problem: Despite a thorough look-see at the scene, the assailants' point of entry, and the corpse of the dead Lapras, I only had part of the picture. I had a decent picture of what had happened and how, a thrilling hunch about the who, and we all knew why. Now the big question became "where?" Where had they gone after they pulled off the heist? Nothing in particular seemed to point to any particular location. If I intended to follow (and hell itself couldn't stop this Devil from doing just that) I needed more information.
"I saw forensics had already been here and gone," I called from my perch on Bruce's rough back, grabbing my smokes from a coat pocket and rooting for the new lighter my friend Tiff had gotten me months ago. I normally don't like to smoke while surfing, but my nerves were still jangling. Besides, the devil's head embossed on the red metal, somewhere between snarling and grinning, always gets a smile out of me. "They find anything you haven't told me about yet?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Lorelai was patting her Lapras affectionately, comforting and taking comfort all in one. I could just barely make out a bit of Lapras-song, nearly sub-audible. I've heard grieving Lapras sing before, nearly anyone who's ever seen a wild one has thanks to the over-hunting. Quiet as it was, this was somehow even more heartbreaking.
"You know what sort of procedures they went through? Any evidence gathered for analysis that hasn't gotten results back?" The preserve was a big deal for Kanto, fully endorsed by the Indigo Plateau Pokémon League and pretty much all levels of local government. There would be one hell of a rush put on all this. Someone was probably using Cut on miles of red tape even as we surfed towards Floe Island.
"There were a couple of blood and soil samples that might have come in with the attackers. They're being kept at tower one for the moment, they have lab techs setting up there to get a head start on making sure." We rode in silence for a few moments, the ex-Elite still stroking and patting her Lapras almost compulsively. Finally she broke the silence, if only just considering how softly she said "I should have been here, you know?"
"No, I don't. You can't be here all the time. You can't be on all five towers at once."
"I gave up my seat on the Elite Four to make this place happen, where else should I have been?" she ignored my second point. I shook my head and stayed quiet for the moment. She was grieving as strongly as the Lapras she rode. She'd snap out of it faster without me pouring salt in the fresh wound.
When we made landfall, I immediately turned and strode towards tower one, Lorelai close behind me. There, in front of the entrance, were two large tents pressed side to side with the flaps rolled up to form a sort of low-ceiling pavilion with several large stainless-steel tables inside. Cops moved around inside and out, some in uniform standing guard, others in plain clothes taking notes or discussing whatever was inside the various notebooks and file folders on hand. Scientists in lab-coats, probably lab techs, stood at the tables reviewing papers and staring into microscopes.
Holy hell, they were taking this one seriously. I almost felt unnecessary for a moment. Then I looked to the right. A short ways off, a number of the detectives and uniformed cops were battling each other, though obviously not in earnest. They were doing combat drills, and it was clear they needed them. Not a single man among them had a fully evolved Pokémon, not counting those with no evolutions like the Farfetch'd I saw one young woman send out. As I walked past, I could see them fumbling through low-level techniques like Tackle and Scratch. I carefully kept a neutral face as we approached the doors, the uniforms standing guard giving me an unhappy look until Lorelai waved them aside. These people might have pulled out all the stops for numbers and forensics, but in a fight I think I could take the entire lot of them.
I dismissed those thoughts as we stepped inside, relishing the air conditioned interior. It wasn't overly warm outside, but riding across the waves, being bombarded by the sun from multiple angles? Yeah, it gets hot pretty quick. Looking around, I could see the game wardens assigned to tower one this week were being left pretty well alone. The hallway had a few of the larger bits of evidence forensics had seen fit to take, including a section of the fence that had been breached, a pair of whole floor and wall panels with blood spatter, and other such odds and ends that hadn't gotten to the techs as of yet.
"Where are your boys at?" I asked Lorelai, pulling her gaze away from the bloodied panels.
"Up on the watch-level. We don't expect any more trouble so soon, but it gives them something to do. And keeps them away from all this," she tilted her head to indicate the evidence set aside here. "And you never know. Maybe whoever did this will come back." She sounded hopeful, under the icy inflection. I knew the feeling, but found it rather dubious. Contrary to popular depictions in fiction, smart criminals really don't return to the scene of the crime all that often. I just nodded and walked over to peer down at the evidence logs. I didn't recognize any of the techs or cops who'd signed off on anything, but that was no surprise. Aside from Looker I don't deal with most police officers for longer than it takes to hand over a handcuffed asshole and receive a check.
I was about to head upstairs and check in with the wardens when a young detective walked in behind us, respectfully taking off a fedora he'd been wearing. I'd have rolled my eyes at his inability to carry the look off in better circumstances, but it was hardly his fault. They might not have a literal uniform, but there is an unspoken dress code among most detectives I've met anyway. He eyed me, taking in my sword with distaste, then walked up and nodded to Lorelai.
"If you and this... gentleman will stand aside for a moment, I need to check some of the evidence in here ma'am." We stood aside, watching as the detective unclipped a Heal Ball from somewhere inside his coat and gave it a gentle toss.
I took another step back and turned to the side just in time to avoid the snap of sharp teeth from the Girafarig's rear head. The primary head turned to see what it's own ass had tried to bite, snorting at me as I glared at her owner. I'd have appreciated a bit more warning, its not a good idea to stand behind most herbivores. Even less so those with teeth in their rear. I'd expect better mon-safety out of a cop. From the too-innocent look on his face, he'd probably done it on purpose. After giving me an especially shit-eating grin, the cocky little punk turned back to the actual task at hand.
"Deuce, gimme an Odor Sleuth on this plate here," he commanded, keeping back to let the Girafarig do her thing. The Long Neck Pokémon stepped forward and stretched her signature neck out, not quite touching the floor panel with the small spatter of dried blood. The sound of deep, heavy inhalations filled the room as she took in whatever scent might be present and worked to identify it.
Odor Sleuth is one of those techniques you don't really see much of in competitive circles, let alone in the more brutal form of combat I'm accustomed to. Its normally used to nullify a Ghost-type's immunity to Normal-type attacks. Which comes in handy sometimes, true, but with so many Pokémon able to utilize at least a handful of Dark and Ghost-type attacks themselves its generally easier to just Crunch or Shadow Ball them into submission. But, much like my Luxray's x-ray vision, just because something isn't overly useful in battle doesn't mean its useless. At least, not in the right context. After a few moments of sniffing, the Girafarig raised its head and looked at her trainer.
The creature gave no outward sign that she was communicating with the detective, but the look in her eye and the inquisitive sound of her call told me she was doing just that. The mildly uncomfortable look on his face was another indication, like me he seemed to find having a Psychic-type in his head unpleasant. I watched, curious. I've never owned a Girafarig, nor really spent much time training any Psychic-type Pokémon. I did have some experience communicating with them, however, including Cresselia herself. There normally aren't words in the thoughts they send to you, not exactly. Instead, what they send at you is more like... impressions. General feelings, or snatches of visual. Considering how differently some Pokémon view the world as compared to humans, it can be rather difficult to understand. Or even painful to try.
"Alright, that's good work Deuce," the detective turned to Lorelai, pointedly ignoring me. I didn't care, I'd hear whatever he relayed just as well if I didn't exist to him. "Deuce has a familiar scent here ma'am, other than your boys. We worked a case last week in Johto," I noticed dimly that he had a hint of a Johton accent, "There was a burglary in Azalea Town, a pretty decent haul of Kurt's custom Poké Balls were stolen." I nodded, although the cop still didn't care to acknowledge me. Kurt's balls are excellent quality, made the old fashioned way from apricorns rather than mass produced from plastic and metal. They could sell for a pretty penny, and depending on the apricorn used they had properties not easily replicated by the folks at the Silph and Devon Corporations. "Whoever bled on this panel, they were there. She's sure of it."
"So you're going to Johto? What makes you think they went back there?" Oak asked a few hours later, after I'd exhausted myself fighting with the police presence over whether I should have access to their reports. Lorelai had eventually stepped in and demanded it on my behalf, at which point they jumped to obey. Retired though she is, she's still Elite Four as far as they're concerned. It chafed to need her help, I'm rather used to cooperation from the police. Between Arabella's complete lack of speech and this, I'd begun to grow a tad irritated with them as a whole.
I leaned against the wall of one of the offices in tower two, where we'd met back up with Oak to share what we'd learned, and took a drag from my cigarette. I'd normally refrain from smoking inside, but Oak had his pipe going and offered me a light, so I went with it. Oak himself hadn't learned much, aside from finding out that another of the guards had died during the trip to and from Sinnoh, bringing the total up to three dead and two wounded. It wasn't looking good for the other two either, but they were still hanging in there for the time being. For myself, I'd informed him of Deuce's findings back at tower one and my plans to follow up on it.
"I'm not sure they did, and there really isn't much sense in going back to Azalea Town. I read the reports, they didn't leave a stone unturned. Kurt is a popular guy, they went to the wall for him," I smiled. I met Kurt once, even caught a Nidorino with one of his Moon Balls. He's good people. "But its all we have to go on right now. I'll take the Magnet Train and get myself a room somewhere. Probably..." I trailed off while I consulted the Johto Map-Card I'd slotted into my PokéGear "Ecruteak is pretty central to the region, I'll get myself a place to stay there. I can get out in the field, talk to the right sort of people and maybe find something if its there. If not, we haven't lost anything but time and that's going past in a hurry anyway." Oak nodded, seeing the sense in that even if he did look dubious on the chances of anything coming of it. "You guys have my PokéGear number, so if anything worth knowing comes up here you can get me back within a day."
That seemed to settle that, and I headed for the door while rummaging in the pockets of my pack looking for my sword permit. I'd forgotten all about it during the flight in from Sinnoh and been forced to check it as baggage, only to find the damn permit shoved between a my stock of Burn Heals upon landing. Just as I stepped outside, Lorelai came out behind me and got my attention with a polite cough.
"Before you go, take this," she held out one hand, upon which was a glittering shard of ice. Ice that, I noted, was a frigidly cold as anything I'd ever touched. No melt-water pooled in my palm as I'd have expected, my body heat had as little effect on it as Tackle would have on a Dusknoir. "Its for your Glaceon. I don't expect it'll help much with the people you're looking for, but take it anyway." I looked down at the Never Melt Ice she'd given me and pulled out 'Scicle's ball to hand it over before leaving.
"Every little bit helps Lorelai, thanks." I waited a moment, letting 'Scicle sing out his fierce, prideful cry at the Ice-Master looking on, which as I'd hoped got a smile out of her. "You and Oak take care of things here," I swept my gaze over the preserve. "I'll take care of them out there. Promise." I tossed a Premiere Ball into the air and was soaring back toward the mainland before she could answer. I wasn't sure I wanted to know if she'd heard the stress I place on "take care of" or not.
