December 12th, 0025

Walking toward the autopsy room, they saw a pair of burly men in suits and sunglasses flanking the door. Their outfits screamed "Federal agent of something very important and super top-secret."

"For the last time, gentlemen," Morales stated, with an icy calm, "please show me your identification, and state your business."

They shook their head. "It is a confidential Federal matter," the man on the left said.

"DDA Hobbs," Morales turned to her, "what legal right do these gentlemen have to have forced their way into my autopsy room?

Hobbs glared at the men. "Actually, as long as they show their identification, and submit to its validation by a responsible law enforcement officer, or an officer of the Court for the State of California, and state a valid purpose, they may not be charged with a crime under the statutes of the State of California." She took a breath. "The fact that they have not complied with your request, Doctor Morales, indicates that these gentlemen may be, in addition to being in violation of several state statutes, in violation of the "Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act of 2001."

She stepped forward to face the two men. "If you do not show Doctor Morales your identification, and submit to its validation by me or a person whom I may designate, and state your lawful purpose for committing trespass into this building, I will immediately arrest you under suspicion of violating the USA PATRIOT Act."

The men shook their heads. "We have the legal authority to be here," the man on the right said.

"Then show me a lawful Federal warrant," Hobbs replied, "or else I will arrest you, now."

They shook their heads. "You have no authority to do that," the man on the left said.

"But I do," Morales stated, "and as a lawful official of the County of Los Angeles, State of California, I have filed an official complaint against you for violating the laws of the State of California, in regards to trespassing, obstruction of justice, and whatever else DDA Hobbs finds there to be sufficient evidence to charge you with."

"Detective Sanchez," Hobbs turned her head, "please take these gentlemen into custody."

"You have the right to remain…" Sanchez began.

"No," Hobbs corrected, "I find that this arrest falls under the public safety exception to the USA Patriot Act, so they are not entitled to any Miranda warning." She glared at the men. "Just take them into custody."

Sanchez reached to his waist and pulled his handcuffs off of his belt. "Hands interlaced behind your heads," he ordered. The men refused to budge.

"I think that you ought to comply with Detective Sanchez, gentlemen," Raydor's voice was soft, icy, and more menacing than the .45 caliber Glock she had just retrieved from Sanchez's holster, which she aimed at the man on the right.

You could have heard a pin drop. A moment, two…and the two men interlaced their hands behind their heads. Sanchez handcuffed the first man, then took Raydor's handcuffs to handcuff the second man. He patted them down, and retrieved their guns, Glock .45's.

"Now, please go with DDA Hobbs to another room and search them," Raydor ordered Sanchez, "I would like to know who these men are." Sanchez and Hobbs took the two men out.

"Now, let's proceed, Captain," Morales opened the door to the autopsy room.

Four tables, four bodies. "Miss Romero, can you identify any of the persons here?"

She walked to the tables on the left. "This is Robert Stromwahl," Romero said, pointing to her left. "And this is my father, Theodore Benjamin Romero." She turned to face Morales and Raydor. "You have some questions for me?"

"In a moment," Morales replied. "First, I'd like to report on my post-mortem examinations." He pointed to Stromwahl's body. "He was struck by numerous rounds of 7.62 caliber munitions, twenty-six to be exact, head, neck, chest, and leg," He sighed. "Eight of the rounds were sufficient, in and of themselves, to have been the fatal wound." He lowered his head to look at the body. "Even if those eight had not hit him, the other eighteen would have caused him to bleed out."

Morales turned to the other table. "Detective Romero was struck by twenty rounds of 7.62 munitions, but only four did not strike him in his body armor vest." He glanced at Romero; she nodded. He removed the sheet from his body. "As you can see, one was a graze wound behind his head, one was a graze wound on the back of his neck, and one penetrated his left quadriceps." He pointed to the face of Romero's body. "There is one round that struck him, a kill shot, perfectly placed between his eyes, and that was from some distance."

"So, likely a better weapon than an AK-47," Raydor mused. "How much mobility would he have lost from the leg wound?"

"He was in a lot of pain," Morales replied, "per blood enzyme analysis, but if he could have ignored the pain, he could have fought for a little while." He turned to Romero, her face was frozen, but she was breathing normally. "Your father died instantaneously from the shot to his head."

Romero nodded, then pointed to her father's body. "The bruising on the side of his abdomen?"

"Those are from the rounds that hit his body armor vest," Morales replied.

"Have you called SID?" Raydor asked. "They will want to do an analysis of the body armor."

"I haven't had time," Morales replied. "It is secured in another place in the building."

"That's a good thing," Raydor nodded. "I take it that hi-def imaging of the vest is on the flash drive?"

Morales nodded.

Romero stepped to her father's body, by his head, bowed her head, and began fingering a rosary, "Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos, santificado sea tu nombre," Tears welled in her eyes.

Raydor and Morales stepped to her side, and joined in, "Venga tu reyno, hagase tu voluntad, asì en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan cotidiano, Y perdónanos nuestras deudas, asì como nosotros perdonamos á nuestros deudores. Y no nos metas en tentación, mas líbranos de mal. Amén."

Romero raised her head, wiped the tears from her eyes, and asked Morales, "We have two more victims."

Morales smiled. "We do, and these two are very interesting." He led Raydor and Romero to the space between the other two bodies. "As you'll notice, there's only one round fired into each of these victims, execution-style in the backs of their head." Pulling the sheets from their bodies, he continued, "No bruising on their abdomen at all, and their body armor was not hit by any firearm rounds."

Raydor pointed at their legs. "That bruising…I've never seen that kind of bruising before." She looked at Romero, "I must tell you what I know now, about what happened." She turned to Morales," Is there anything else you need to tell us about these two?"

Morales shook his head. "I will tell you exactly what we found after you brief Romero." He walked toward the door. "My office." They followed him.

"Are you going to leave these bodies here unguarded?" Raydor asked.

"They won't be," Commander Reed intoned, hand patting his sidearm. "But would you please lock the door, Doctor?"

The lock clicked, and Morales led Raydor and Romero toward his office.

December 12th, 0055

"I never knew a baton could do all that," Romero gasped at the x-rays on the monitor on Morales' desk.

"Your father was wounded, in some pain, and he knew that he was outnumbered and outgunned," Raydor replied. "Seeing just how much he must have been hurting, and dazed, and stressed, I am rather incredulous how clearly he analyzed the situation, and made a decision to attack as he did."

"He saw two attackers," Sanchez spoke from the door, "and a brief opportunity to attack, probably when they were changing clips, and he used it."

"And he had the situation under control, then he was killed by the third man that he did not see," Raydor sighed. "Do you think he could have seen him? Should he have?"

Sanchez frowned. "It was dusk, and he was concentrating on the two immediate threats to him." He shook his head. "I can't fault him for his tactics, even though technically, he should have waited for help."

"But he couldn't have," Raydor concluded, "given the totality of the situation." She closed her eyes for a moment, her brow furrowed. "Remember, he didn't know whether anyone in the Civic was alive."

"He looked," Sanchez replied, "but only for a second, because that's all the time he had."

"Which explains why he did not attempt to radio in again, after sending the shots fired transmission," Raydor added, "he knew that help would get there too late to help if he didn't immediately attack."

"Miss Romero," Morales interjected, "I do have your father's personal effects." He opened a drawer and pulled out an evidence bag. "Is there anything here that shouldn't be, or something here that should?"

Romero looked. "Wallet, keys, twenty dollars, some breath mints, some change…no, this is what he normally carries."

"I doubt that the shooter would have had time to search his body," Sanchez said.

"I was thinking that there might have been something that would have explained what happened," Morales replied.

Romero glared at Morales. Raydor interceded, before she could object. "I know it's difficult to hear that question," she calmly told Romero, "but it's not unprecedented for a police officer to be part of a criminal enterprise."

Romero took a deep breath. "You mean, like MS13?"

Raydor smiled. Morales raised his brow. "What did you notice?" he asked.

"I noticed the tattooing on both John Does," Romero replied, "but on John Doe Two, the tattoo on his shoulder was not cleanly done, like it was on John Doe One." She took a breath. "On Doe Two, there weren't any other tattoos but the coded MS13 one."

"I'd say that would be," Sanchez stopped. "Can I see the pictures?"

Morales tapped a couple of keys, the pictures came up on his monitor, and Sanchez looked over Morales' shoulder. "Yeah, One is an old school MS13, they aren't doing much in tattoos anymore – look at all the ink."

Raydor looked over Morales' other shoulder. "It looks like Two had that tattoo forcibly applied?"

Sanchez nodded. "I think it was a loyalty test…as well as being asked to participate in the shooting up the Civic."

"But the question is, why that Civic?" Raydor frowned. "It was a deliberate targeting…and why would a Federal agent get himself into that position?"

"That's probably why those men broke in," Sanchez sighed. "They didn't want that operation, whatever it was, blown."

Raydor picked up the phone, was about to dial, when it sounded. "Lieutenant Provenza?"

"Captain, Lieutenant Stoner just called from the hospital," Provenza sounded tired and hopeful. "It seems that the child victim made it through surgery okay, and may be awake in two hours, or a bit less."

"Good," Raydor replied. "Is Buzz there?"

"Yes," Provenza growled. "What's up?"

"I want him to run facial recognition comparison scans, comparing Maria Camacho with CIIS databases first, then other state databases, but no international or Federal databases," Raydor replied. "Then, please pick up Cadet Romero and take her with you to interview the child."

"I think Sanchez should take her," Provenza growled.

"I need him for another assignment," Raydor replied, firmly but calmly. "MS13 is involved in some way."

A low whistle. "All right, Captain," Provenza replied. "Buzz is starting the recognition check, and Tao is also using his computer to access other state databases at the same time."

"When will you get here?" Raydor asked. "Make it code two."

"Fifteen minutes from now," Provenza replied. The call disconnected.

A buzzer sounded on Morales' desk. He looked at his monitor. "Captain Raydor, you will have company in one minute."

"Captain Raydor, a word, please," a very harassed Chief Pope addressed Raydor. Walking into Morales' office with him were Chief Taylor, Special Agent Howard, and a very harassed and upset person.

"Deputy Director Malcolm, DEA," the harassed person introduced himself. "I would like to know where my two men that I sent here are?"