Many people died in the explosion at the South PD…but all anyone cares about is the fact that Ed is dead. Hm, strange priorities, but understandable. Anyway, read on to Chapter 9!
Chapter 9
"Archer? Frank Archer?" Mustang resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Havoc's needless comment. "Chief Frank Archer?"
"Hav, how many Frank Archers do you know?" Breda snapped at him from his position against the wall. They were all at Mustang's apartment, each one of them taking a well-deserved lunch break after dealing with hell from the south at the station that morning. Roy couldn't keep it a secret any longer, so he called them all there (separately, of course, to avoid suspicion) and now they were discussing the revelation like they were just catching up.
"Okay, yeah, I don't know any others," Havoc started to give as a response, "but I'm just starting to get sick of this corrupt cop bullshit. Honestly, I never thought I'd miss the day where we dealt with garden-variety serial killers. Makes me need a cigarette, but then Becca would kill me."
"We could all use a break from this." Breda's words ended the conversation between the two. Hawkeye frowned in her chair, her gaze lingering on every individual in the room, stopping at long last on Feury.
"Kain, you're certain your data wasn't false? There's no way Archer could have fudged the data, or anyone else for that matter?" she asked coolly, just as unrevealing as ever.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Feury answered, sounding more confident than when he'd spoken to the chief that morning. "When Grumman became commissioner, he wanted a record of every file, report, and search that officers made all for the sake of accountability. I made that happen, and I made backups upon backups. Archer might have hacked in through the front door to clear the search history, but he didn't notice the secret cellar. That's where I got the uncorrupted data."
"I don't understand the computer jargon, but more or less, Archer's the definitive bad guy?" Havoc asked. Feury nodded.
"What about you, Alex? You've barely said a word since the chief told us," Hawkeye stated. Armstrong looked up from his seat, and Mustang noted that he looked deep in thought. He clasped his hands in his lap, obviously considering what to say. The chief couldn't blame him.
"I've worked with Archer," he said contemplatively, "and he always seemed devoted to the job. To think that he caused the death of Edward is…horrifying. I know we've seen it far too many times already, but I still cannot believe there are so many officers that have turned their backs on the oaths we swore. Then I think about how Edward was framed, and I cannot comprehend how someone could do something so…evil."
"I get that," Mustang commented. This pulled the team's attention back to him. "I've never liked Archer, personally, but he never struck me as a murderer. Sure, he never struck me as a police officer, either; more of a soldier than anything, but he's gone and made it personal. The moment he tried to take Fullmetal out of the picture, he made it very personal, and he needs to pay for it."
"You got that right," Breda said. "Ed was a good guy who didn't deserve what Archer forced on him."
"So, as always sir, what's the plan?" Hawkeye asked with a near indiscernible smile. Roy smirked from it.
"We finally have a face for our enemy, but we still need to tread lightly," he informed his team. At the same moment, he stood and they all snapped to attention. "I don't want to play our hand too early and give away what we know. What we do know is this, though: Archer's been behind this elaborate plan from the start. That means we leave no stone unturned. We look into everything. Why was Majahal Williams killed? Who was the third body? What is Archer's goal?"
"In other words, we're not approaching this like we did with Bradley?" Armstrong asked softly.
"Exactly," Roy confirmed. He was starting to pace the room, ideas forming in his head. "We have no concrete evidence and no clear discernment of his motives beyond chaos. Bradley's motive was obvious. He wanted money. Now, we need to know what Archer's after so we can anticipate his next move."
"Assignments, chief?" Havoc asked.
"Feury, dig into Archer's computer history. If he made a move electronically, I want to know it. Hawkeye, for now, I need you to follow Archer and see what he's up to. Havoc and Breda, you two need to look into his financials. I don't care how far you go back, just find something. In the meantime, since neither Feury nor Armstrong are taking any cases, Alex and I will look into those bodies from when Ed was being targeted."
"Yes, sir!" they said confidently. He took a moment to give a serious look to each one of them.
"I don't have to remind you how quiet we need to be in this investigation. Archer cannot find out what we're doing. If you have the faintest suspicion he knows anything, you tell the team."
"Easier said than done, chief. The guy is gonna be breathing down our necks," Havoc complained. Roy nodded but said no more. To this, Havoc gave a sigh and a jerk of his head to Breda. The two then left Mustang's apartment quietly. Hawkeye was the next to go with her own subtle nod, Feury trailing after her.
"Are you all right with this, Alex? I know this subterfuge isn't exactly your style," Mustang said to the big man.
"If this is what it takes to see justice done for Edward…" He didn't finish his sentence, but Roy felt he'd said all he needed to say. The understanding confirmed between them, Roy led him out of his apartment, locking the door as he did so. "What's our first step, sir?"
"We need to go to Blue Rose Tech," he answered. "I was too blind up until now, but maybe that's what Archer wanted. He kept us so busy chasing our own tails that we didn't have any time to look closer. Why was Majahal Williams killed? Was he supplying bomb parts, or is there some other reason?"
"They may turn us away without a warrant," Armstrong observed. "From what you said, they weren't entirely helpful earlier."
"Are you willing to color outside the lines, Armstrong?" The implication behind his words was clear as day.
"Pretending, sir?"
"I know you can be an excellent actor when you want to be." Though it's more of being a large ham.
"I'm pretty sure we've done far worse before now," he chuckled when the two finally got into the car.
"Then let's get some answers, shall we?" Then he turned the car on and headed straight for that building he'd been to not even a week ago. Somehow, it looked even less inviting this time, but Roy couldn't care less; he planned to step in like he owned the place (though his profession and pocketbook told him he didn't). He certainly didn't expect the response he got.
"Mister-Detec-Chief Mustang!" called the familiar female voice. "I-I didn't expect you back here!"
"Miss Delbot, it's nice to see you again," Mustang said, forcing all the pleasantry he could into his voice. The young woman in question was standing and walking around her receptionist desk.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in a harsh whisper, as if afraid of asking. Mustang hardly cared since it wasn't like his presence was some big secret. That, and he figured the girl's father would have found out he was here already, anyway.
"I need some more information," he answered as truthfully as he could. Thankfully, neither the girl nor her father could be considered that bright, at least not when compared to the enemy they were up against. "The court loves evidence, and even if the killer's dead, our department needs accountability to know that we weren't wrong."
"And you plan on continuing to drag our company through the mud to do so." Sure enough, Charles Delbot was already approaching with a surprisingly beefed up escort. "Not today, Mr. Mustang."
"You would break the law? Obstruct justice? !" Armstrong suddenly wailed. The complete falsity of Armstrong's acting almost made the chief cringe, but since he was in on the act, he didn't make a move. "You, sir, are a villain!"
"I am the head of security at Blue Rose Tech. We will not allow you to…to…besmirch our company's name any longer!" Now, Armstrong even had this guy joining in on the hamminess.
"Are you saying your company is above the law?" Armstrong asked as though he were taken aback. Roy was the only one who knew he wasn't. "Are you telling me that-"
"That's enough, Armstrong," Mustang said with a pat to the man's bicep. "He's right, though. Your company is not above the law, and is subject to every search warrant placed on it."
"I'd presume you have one, then," Mr. Delbot asked, a little too haughtily.
"Not yet, but I have Judge Gold Steiner on speed dial," he told him, pulling his phone out. "We go back, so I'm sure he'd grant one to me in a heartbeat, but wouldn't you rather save us the trouble. I mean, sure, one call could get us a warrant, but it would also put your company down on public record and who knows what sort of nasty implications the media could come up with."
Delbot appeared to be struggling with this notion as his face made a myriad of looks before finally settling into one of resignation. He raised his hand and waved off most of the guard behind him. "What is it you need?"
"Just access to Mr. William's files, to see if there were any dealings he had with that woman before last Saturday," Mustang told him. He nodded with a tired sigh.
"Ricky, could you get those file folders and the backup hard drive of Mr. William's data," Delbot said to the remaining burly man who scampered off. Delbot himself didn't move, obviously refusing to allow Mustang to take a step further. Ricky was back minutes later with a stack of file folders and a hard drive that he shoved into Armstrong's arms. "There you are. I hope this means you'll leave the company alone."
"I hope so, too," was the remark the chief gave before he and Armstrong swept out the door. It was when they had finally dumped everything in the car and were on their way back to Roy's apartment that either spoke.
"I didn't know you knew Judge Steiner," Armstrong confessed.
"I lied," he said with a little smirk. "You did some pretty good acting yourself back there."
"Well, the art of acting has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations."
"I'm sure…now let's see what these files can tell us." Roughly a quarter of an hour later had them both back at Roy's place with Armstrong searching through the computer and Mustang flicking through the folders. It was a slow process until Roy noticed some small discrepancies. Money from the weaponry department had suddenly made a minor shift near seven months ago. The chief flipped back a couple months and saw that it was less in the present day, like the funding had suddenly decreased. Yet as he went through, he couldn't find a single memo that funding to the department would be decreased. Moreover, the money that had previously been going to the department was a fixed amount every month. The only mark on those payments was for distribution. But of what, and to whom? The only indication was an initial of SI L.L.C.
"Sir, I think I may have one of the reasons Mr. Williams was targeted," Armstrong said. Mustang circled the payments and made his short trip over to look at Armstrong's progress. On the screen was what looked to be a bomb; a very well-known bomb.
"That's the bomb that was used on Psiren's place!" he exclaimed.
"I'd imagine it was the same bomb that was used everywhere else, too. That could be why it's military grade; they do have plenty of defense contracts at Blue Rose."
"All right, now it makes sense," the chief commented. "Majahal provides the parts for the weapons that Bald built and then they tie off the loose ends. The real question is: what incentive did Majahal have to actually give these weapons? I can't imagine money…"
"I did find something else you may want to see," Armstrong gave a few keystrokes and a new model appeared on the screen. "Look familiar, sir?"
"Isn't that the same model of gun that Bradley was using to shoot Ling?" Armstrong didn't say anything because he didn't need to. Mustang was starting to get a very bad feeling in his stomach. Suddenly, those payments were starting to seem all the more important. "Armstrong, is there anything on there about an SI L.L.C.?"
"I'll see…" he said tentatively as he went to work. He was no Feury, but Mustang knew that his months spent with the young detective had likely taught him something. Sure enough, Armstrong had seemed to find something moments later. "SI L.L.C. stands for Sultry Industries L.L.C., but that's just a front for some place called Seven Sins International. Hmm…their address seems to be the building that the sniper who shot Cohen was at. Anyway, Seven Sins seems to be a shell company for something, but I can't quite find for what…"
Mustang stepped backward because he knew that Armstrong didn't need to find for what. The answer was plain as day: the rifle design, the company name, corrupt cops involved, the sudden payments that ended seven months ago…and Psiren, the one thing he never should have missed. "It's Homunculus…Homunculus is the parent company of Blue Rose Tech."
"But Homunculus is…"
"I know!" he snapped. "This is too much of a coincidence to easily dismiss, though. Majahal, Psiren, they all have connections to Homunculus. Martins was just to get our attention, then they kept us twirling around so we couldn't find the truth."
"Then what about the third body?" That was the only thing that stumped Mustang. The third body was still unidentifiable for whatever reason, but with the picture now forming in his head, the reason for keeping the body's identity a secret was becoming all too clear to Mustang.
"Armstrong, hide those files, and bring the hard drive to Feury. See if he can get anything more off of it. In the meantime, I'll see Knox. Maybe he's found something since we got that body." Armstrong gave a hearty salute as he gathered everything up and, as discretely as he could, left the apartment. Roy was soon to follow, but he was heading to the morgue. A shiver passed over him as he remembered the events of two nights ago, but he swallowed those feelings down to see Knox, who appeared to be in the middle of an autopsy. He still saw him, though.
"What do you want, Mustang?" he asked crankily.
"Shouldn't you focus on your work?"
"Simple hit and run by the looks of it. Now, what are you here for?" Knox whirled around, but didn't lower his facemask.
"The body we found last Wednesday; have you been able to get any ID on it yet?" Mustang asked. Even under the mask, though, the chief could tell that Knox was scowling.
"What do you think I am? A miracle worker?" he grumbled out. "I work with the dead, not bring them back to life to give me answers!"
"Do you have anything?" Mustang asked exasperatedly.
"I'm in the middle of an autopsy, Mustang!"
"That you didn't care about five minutes ago." Knox cut off his next scathing remark to glare at the chief. Without so much as a word, he then whirled away from the dead body to open one of the boxes that revealed the still horribly disfigured form of the third body.
"There wasn't much to go on, and I don't think you care about how he died so much as what he was like before he died." Mustang nodded a confirmation. "From what I could tell by the state of his organs, he was an older man. Maybe early to mid fifties. Non-smoker, slight alcoholic, though. I managed to salvage a sample of his gray hair but that's hardly helpful…There was a lot of stress on his body, probably work related, and he had poor eyesight. Definitely someone who wore glasses."
"Anything else that doesn't describe roughly ten percent of Amestris' population?"
"Just be patient for once! It's not an exact science, but he wasn't from the eastern region. My best guess would be Central from the skin color and general state, but these are guesses. However, I did find bruising on his wrists far older than the other wounds. My first thought would be handcuffs because they're too tight and not enough burn to be rope. 'Course, he could just be kinky. Anyway, does that help you out?"
Mustang didn't immediately answer; his head was too busy sorting out what information was actually useful. He knew Knox had done the best he could without any DNA lab results, but the chief hadn't quite been able to figure it out. Then he remembered something Rebecca had said at dinner a few nights ago. Mustang took a second look at the body and through that could finally begin to see the resemblance of Gardner, who had mysteriously vanished under IA's watch.
"Thanks Knox, and you're still a miracle worker!" he said gruffly as he walked away.
"Miracle worker, right…" the coroner snorted, his head angling towards his hit and run victim. "Does that mean you'll get up and start answering questions?" Mustang almost laughed, but he was out the door before he could. Shortly after that, his face shifted into one of grim realization.
Archer had led them on a merry chase. So many dead bodies had piled up that they couldn't look in depth into any of them. Now, those circumstances were changing and Roy was determined to not let a single thing slip through the cracks. Inside, he wanted to beat himself up for not finding the links sooner, particularly for not realizing that the cologne belonged to the killer and not the victim. The only questions that currently remained were why Gardner was killed, and if Bradley had anything to do with orchestrating this behind the scenes. Well, he couldn't make any decisions until his team came back with whatever info they found. Knowing that, the chief returned to the station.
The East City station was, as expected, more lively than usual. A number of South PD officers were swarming the building, and while his own officers were more than accommodating, there was an air of tension. Furtive glances from officers and detectives that showed they didn't trust the South PD with anything. Mustang couldn't blame them, especially knowing that a complete nut-job was in charge of them.
"That was a long lunch break," came the dull voice of the man in question. Mustang refrained from jumping to see Archer waiting outside his office.
"I had a lot of things to take care of," Mustang said, his eyes narrowed. Archer couldn't have suspected anything, could he? "Besides, I figured that since there were two chiefs, you could handle things while I was out."
"No need for the curt tone, Mustang. I meant no offense by what I said this morning," Archer said, making to follow Mustang into his office. The East City chief stopped, preventing him from going any further. "By the way, your detectives Havoc and Breda came back from lunch quite late today as well."
"Archer, you run your detectives and I'll run mine. Until the structure of our working relationship changes, that's how it'll be." With that, he slammed the doors to his office shut and didn't come out until evening had faded into night. His team had left before him, but he knew they'd probably be waiting for him at his apartment. Archer was gone as well, and Roy took some solace from that fact on his way home. As expected, all five members of his team were waiting outside and he silently let them all in. "Find anything?"
"Other than the fact that Archer seems to try and run the station in your absence, I couldn't glean anything from following him," Hawkeye reported. "It wasn't like he left the station, though."
"Hav and I found something," Breda said, pulling a small ream of paper from his bag and throwing it on Mustang's coffee table. "Had to call in a few favors, but I was able to quietly get my hands on Archer's financials."
As Roy decided to peruse the reports, Havoc began speaking. "He hid it pretty well by only using small sums and taking a lot of things out as cash, but if you look carefully, it's obvious that a lot of it is payments. It looks like you were right, chief; Archer really was paying these guys to do stuff."
"Couldn't find where the money was coming from, though," Breda admitted, "and there's no way a cop, even a chief, could afford the kind of amounts he was pouring out."
"True, and I don't think he was exactly taking it from his pension," Roy said as he closed the financial report. "Armstrong and I found something that I don't think any of you will like. Our second and third victims from the Psiren case both had a common feature. Both of them were once part of Homunculus Corp." Somehow, none of them seemed very surprised by this revelation. Roy didn't find it the appropriate time to question them about it, either. Feury's findings meant he didn't have to.
"That hard drive you and Armstrong gave me had a lot of info on it," he began. "Archer's search history didn't yield anything but that hard drive did. I looked into Seven Sins International and since it was the name of a dummy corporation, I dug deeper into it and found it linked to an account in Aerugo. No name was attached to it so I had Havoc and Breda look into it."
"We still couldn't find any names, but what we did find were withdrawals and deposits made recently," Breda said. "Obviously, because it's an Aerugonian account, we couldn't look further, but it started to become obvious that it was Homunculus when we saw the flurry of activity from seven months ago."
"Well, that makes what I have to do simpler," Roy said. Next to him, Riza sighed.
"You're going to visit Bradley, aren't you, sir?" she asked. She didn't let him even nod before continuing on with, "You realize that all his assets were frozen when he was arrested. There's no way he could make any deposits."
"I know, but he may still be pulling some strings from behind the scenes here," the chief said. "I'll visit him in prison tomorrow, but we'll continue to follow Archer in the meantime. Be careful, though. He already noticed that Breda and Havoc came back late today, and we don't want him having any more suspicions."
His team said nothing to his orders but left one by one save for Hawkeye, who stayed the night. Neither could sleep, knowing that the devil that had gotten Ed killed was lurking around their station. Still, Roy would get some answers from Bradley in the morning. When the morning did come, Hawkeye was already gone, and Roy left quickly himself to make the annoyingly familiar trip to Central. This time, however, he went to a place that was markedly less familiar.
"Relation to prisoner?" the prison guard asked when he told him who he wanted to see.
"I arrested him," Roy could only answer in a deadpan. It was inane questions like these that he had to suffer through, until the guard finally handed him a visitor's badge and led him to an isolated visitor's area. Moments later, the doors opened and Bradley strode in. For a brief moment, Roy reflected that he looked good in orange, though he looked as menacing as ever, striding in and taking his seat. The guard chained him to the table immediately.
"You have fifteen minutes." Obviously trusting the chief, the officer left the room. For a moment, the two men sat across from each other silently. Roy's fingers tapped on the table until Bradley opened his mouth.
"It's been a while, Mustang," he said with a faint grin. Mustang could see his teeth still looked as pearly white as before, but it was off-put by the patch around his eye. Bradley lifted a hand to it. "It still stings occasionally, I'll have you know."
"Yeah, I'm sure losing a limb is nothing compared to what you've suffered," Roy mocked sarcastically. Bradley laughed.
"Oh, I'm not complaining. It keeps the other lowlifes in here away from me," he said with that still aggravating grin. "I am surprised to see you here, though. You chose a lucky day to see me."
"Hardly. I've been following the trial, so I know it's suspended until tomorrow for the president's testimony."
"Very perceptive," Bradley commented with just a tinge of admiration. "You know, if you weren't straight as an arrow, your skills would have been put to good use in Homunculus."
"After killing Hughes? You'd have to be delusional," he spat back.
"Of course…but you didn't come here to get me to confess my sins again, have you?" Bradley leaned back as best as he could with his hands chained to the table. "Might this have to do with Fullmetal? I saw the unfortunate news on the TV. Is his wife all right?"
"You realize you have no right to ask that," Roy said, glaring fiercely at the older man.
"Then stop stalling and get to your point. Why are you here, Mustang?"
"Is Homunculus Corp still active?" It was as simple a question as he could've asked. Bradley, however, looked perplexed.
"Wasn't the company dissolved upon my arrest?" Roy's eyes narrowed. His answer didn't sound taunting or mocking. Judging from his tone and his face, Bradley genuinely seemed to have no idea. The chief couldn't trust that initial impression, though.
"Then why is it that we've recently found shell companies connected to Homunculus receiving deposits to carry out heinous crimes?" Roy asked. Perhaps if he pushed enough, he'd be able to get the answers he needed.
"I wouldn't know. My assets were frozen when you put me behind these walls, remember? Any other action with those shell companies has nothing to do with me," Bradley stated with venom. Mustang practically slumped in his chair, feeling defeated. Then, he heard Bradley sigh and ask, "Is this off the record or an official interrogation?"
"Off the record, if that's what it takes to get some answers," Mustang said grimly. Bradley smirked at this and leaned inward.
"I have nothing to do with anything going on outside these walls, but that doesn't mean my former organization doesn't."
"What does that even mean? Homunculus is gone."
"Homunculus itself is gone, but there was more to the company than corrupt cops and a few twisted individuals." Bradley informed the charcoal-haired chief. "When I became commissioner over twenty years ago, this country was a cesspool of criminal activity. I tried to combat it the right way, but eventually it became obvious that I'd have to play dirty. I gave my officers the right to do things that some would consider illegal. It worked for a time, but scum always manages to crawl back."
"Let me guess, this is when you formed Homunculus Corp?"
"Yes. I received some payments and formed it, but I knew that placing myself at the head would turn a few others. I kept things secret while retaining my face as commissioner. The cops came on the company's payroll to continue doing what they were doing, but it still wasn't enough. So, I took a leaf out of Greed's book: I began to turn and employ the criminals."
"Criminals like Barry the Chopper, the Slicer Brothers…Psiren?" Roy asked. Bradley nodded.
"Exactly. By using Homunculus Corp, I gathered almost all organized crime, serial killers, corrupt cops…all of them were gathered to me and I cleaned the streets. Sure, there were some crimes that went under my nose: husbands killing wives, kids killing parents, those random crimes of passion. They didn't matter, though. The twisted killers were under my control and it meant I could do whatever I wanted for myself and no one would be the wiser…until you came along."
"What exactly does that mean?" Here, Bradley sighed again and attempted to rub his temple until he remembered he was chained to the table.
"Mustang, have you ever heard of a creature known as the hydra?"
"The mythical Xersian creature, sure…You cut off its head-"
"More grow back unless you destroy the body. Well, Mustang, when you arrested me, you cut off the head of the hydra. All of those criminal elements that were under my thumb became free to do whatever they wanted. They became multiple organizations and some of them would potentially want vengeance."
"Would Frank Archer be included in this group?" Mustang asked, foregoing all subtlety.
"Archer, huh? He always had a little psycho in him," Bradley said with a frown. Then he gazed determinedly at Mustang. "Understand this: when you took me down, you poked a wounded and sleeping dragon and woke it up. Now, you have to deal with the consequences." Mustang looked at Bradley, utter numbness running through his veins. He had heard those words before.
"What do you mean? Comanche said those same words to me. So, what consequences? Tell me, Bradley!"
"There's nothing to tell," he answered. "Just remember, sometimes sacrifices have to be made to reach the truth. The only question is what will you sacrifice?" The door clanged open as Roy was about to open his mouth.
"Time's up," the guard said, moving over to unchain Bradley. Roy stood as Bradley was being escorted out.
"What did you mean by a 'dragon'?" The ex-commissioner didn't waste a glance and left the room silently. Mustang would've punched the wall at his silence if it could have helped matters. Since it didn't, he left with his teeth grit, checking out and driving back to East City. The meeting with Bradley had practically been a waste. All he knew was that Homunculus Corp, or rather the remnants of it, were very much active. Bradley was no longer behind it, but Archer certainly was. Where is he getting his money, though? That lone thought wracked his brain for hours on the drive back to East City, and he still didn't have an answer when he pulled into the lot. All thought of it was banished when he pulled in, too, for Hawkeye was waiting for him.
"You have visitors," she said tersely as they surmounted the steps to the station. Her tone was grim and it told Mustang he shouldn't be happy about his visitors. "They're both waiting in your office."
She left right after that. Mustang scowled and made straight for his office. His eyes swept the station, but found no sign of Archer anywhere, his trepidation rising. The rest of his team was at their desks, each one staring at the door to his office with nervous anticipation. He didn't want to imagine what was inside, but he entered anyway. To his surprise (and a near disgruntled groan), Archer was sitting in his chair as if he owned the office. Across from him were the two visitors. One was easily familiar as the tired looking Commissioner Grumman, but the woman next to him was more of a shock. In fact, he just remained standing there as the door closed and President Dante stood and offered to shake his hand.
"You must be Roy Mustang. It's a pleasure to finally meet the Hero of Amestris in person," she said. Roy kicked his brain back into gear and shook her hand. It was the first time seeing the woman so up close. Now that he was, he noticed the overabundance of gray in her hair and the wrinkles in her cheeks. She looked tired, like the business of being president was weighing her down. He could relate, but found her handshake still brimming with energy. It was almost surprising to find such an old woman being so firm, but he figured she'd have to be in order to be such a beloved president.
"Mustang, we were just talking about how we were going to restructure the East and South police force relations," Grumman said, stroking his mustache. Mustang looked to him and saw something behind his eyes that made the chief wary.
"Oh, you've come to a decision? That was fast," he chuckled out nervously. He moved to stand beside Archer, glaring at him for taking his chair but the brunette didn't notice.
"We felt that given circumstances, it was best to come to a decision quickly, and given it affects almost half of the department, I thought it best to come along to deliver the news," Dante confessed, smiling and wrinkling her eyes a bit. Archer shifted in the chair a bit.
"They wouldn't tell me anything until you got here," he said lazily. "So, how are we restructuring?"
"As of this moment," Grumman began after clearing his throat, "all minor investigations are suspended. Anything less than murder is to be put on the back burner until this bombing case is closed. Furthermore, in light of the two departments being linked for the time being, we are officially placing Chief Mustang in charge of both the East and South City police forces until further notice. Understood?"
"Of course…" Roy breathed out tentatively. Something disturbed him about this whole situation. Why was he being named chief of both areas? Even if the man was a homicidal maniac, Archer was higher on the totem pole than himself. He wouldn't speak his mind in front of the man, though.
"Oh, yes, Chief Mustang," Dante said. Mustang looked at her, though half his gaze was on Archer as well. "Given the increase in security for the presidential parade, I was wondering if I might borrow Alex Armstrong to be the head of security. He comes highly recommended by Commissioner Grumman, here."
"Sure," Mustang responded. What else would he say to the president? "Just talk to him and I'm sure he'll agree."
"Wonderful!" She stood again and made to leave. "Commissioner, after I talk to Armstrong, I'll be waiting in the car." Then she swept out. Archer got up a moment later and left as well. His face was completely impassive and Roy couldn't tell what the man was thinking. Either way, it left him and Grumman in the room alone.
"Sir, isn't this unorthodox?" Mustang asked, not bothering to take a seat. "I thought Archer would be placed at the top."
"Archer recommended you, and the president seemed to agree, Hero of Amestris," he told him with a wry chuckle. "Besides, this whole situation is unorthodox, is it not?"
"Yeah, and it unnerves me…" Roy said back. "I think it's a little too much for me to handle."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll do fine, Roy," the commissioner dismissed. Then his face got serious. "Just tread lightly around Frank Archer. That man is as shrewd as they come."
"I'm figuring that out for myself," he mumbled out. Grumman stood and started to walk away.
"I don't know what you've gotten yourself into this time, Roy, but be careful," he told him. Then, as an afterthought, "Take care of my granddaughter."
"Of course, sir." Grumman left and Mustang watched him go while also locking onto Archer at his own new desk in the station. The man was invariably inscrutable. At first, he'd thought the South PD chief would be less than pleasant about not getting the top job, but to find out he had recommended Mustang for it…What game was he playing? Did he intend to force him into the spotlight so that the corrupt chief could do what he needed without detection? Well, he could certainly play that game. Mustang straightened his shirt and stepped into the thicket of the station. "All right, everyone, listen up!
"As of this moment, all minor investigations are suspended. I've been placed in charge of both this precinct and our southern counterparts and have been told that if you're not working a murder, we need all hands on deck for this bombing case. I'll be handing the case over to Chief Archer, who'll be running point. That's all." The station, which had remained silent through his orders, burst into sound. Roy was more concerned with Archer's reaction. Naturally, the pale man took it all in stride. Still, Roy felt satisfied that he'd be keeping the spotlight on him for a while. Archer stood and immediately went to corral his troops. Meanwhile, Roy joined up with his team, Armstrong already missing.
"What about us, chief?" Havoc whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"You and Breda be part of the team. Observe everything Archer does during the day," the chief responded in kind. "Since Armstrong will be missing, Feury's with Hawkeye on whatever murder case pops up." Then he left. He couldn't have Archer suspect anything, particularly with the other chief's most recent move. He, however, had to suspect everything about Archer, and that meant tracking him.
Unfortunately, when night did arrive and Roy decided to track the man, he realized what a boring affair it was. Not that he expected Archer to enter some shady part of town and conduct an equally shady business deal, but what the other man was doing was positively mundane. Even Hawkeye thought so, since she was joining him on his stakeout. Frank Archer lived alone, which meant he had no one to return home to and could easily stay at an extended stay motel in the city. In place of returning there, though, he met a few of his officers for drinks but barely spoke a word. He also went grocery shopping and made a few calls on his cell, but nothing to suggest illicit activities. Honestly, the most exciting part was when Archer surprisingly dipped into a strip club. Even with Hawkeye at his side, Roy eagerly followed because it would at least take his mind from the boredom.
"Sir, if this is because I refuse to do a strip tease, then you need to elevate your tastes," Hawkeye said dryly, giving a near evil look to a stripper named Glitter (who, yes, had glitter all over her).
"Shush," he warned her, taking a booth near to the one Archer and a man wearing a ball cap were sitting in. Their words were muffled, but Roy could hear some of it.
"Testing's finally complete, so she's pleased…" the man he was meeting said. "Our little intern's unhappy, though."
"Ugh, this always happens with you people," Archer commented. "You need to learn some discipline like we have at the police station."
"We can't all be cops," the other man snapped. Roy sat back in defeat; it just sounded like inane babble about a work day. "I'm surprised you'd come to a strip club, though."
"Every good cop has his vices. It's either strippers, drinking or gambling, and I'd rather not waste money on something and get nothing in return, you understand?" The other man laughed. Mustang couldn't see his face but at this point he didn't want to get close enough to look at him. Instead, Roy jerked his head to Hawkeye and the two slowly crept out of the strip club. Of course, this meant fighting through a parade of strippers and customers. Roy almost even knocked over a black-haired customer who rudely ignored his apologies. All in all, by the time Roy returned home Hawkeye-less (he believed she was miffed about the strip club), he was feeling it had been a wasted night and fell asleep without a second thought.
The next morning was far simpler, considering he didn't have to go in early and it was the first time he'd been in first thing for a few days. The station was also a little quieter. Archer had quite confidently taken charge, though the chief knew it was only because he was the actual perpetrator. Mustang didn't expect the killer to be caught when said killer was leading the investigation. No, that'd be up to him and his team. No matter what the reason, Roy found it strange to actually be happy to have the time to do paperwork. He did take a mid-morning break at some time, turning to more coverage on the Bradley trial.
As most of the country had expected, President Dante was set to take the stand.
"Madam President," began Douglas' line of questioning, "you were the one to employ King Bradley twenty years ago, correct?" Roy watched the president on the screen, sitting confidently and dignified.
"Yes, I was," came the simple answer.
"Could you describe to the court your reason for doing so?"
"At the time, King Bradley was chief of the Central Police Department. Crime rates were constantly lowering and I found he was the best choice."
"Were you aware of his ownership of Homunculus Corp?" Douglas asked.
"I knew nothing about any company he owned. I did understand that his family had a small fortune, however."
"Very well," Douglas said, his eyes obviously raking over the jury. "During his time as commissioner, could you describe your relationship with Mr. Bradley?"
"Detached, at best. I let him run his department with minimal guidance. We typically only met for big events like the Ishval bombing, or for budget reports and maybe at Presidential Galas."
"So all of Bradley's actions were of his own accord and not on yours or anyone else's orders?"
"As far as I would know, but like I said, I wasn't involved." Roy's fingers started tapping his desk as he watched. The president was practically unreadable, but there was no denying that her testimony of having no involvement and of Bradley acting on his own would paint him as even more of a monster.
"One final question, Madam President," Douglas said sternly. Dante sat silently, awaiting said question. "Were you, at any time, aware of Bradley's illegal activities prior to his arrest?"
There was a pause, like an inhale of breath in the courtroom. It was like that was the most important question to be asked; the crux of all things. To Roy, it seemed like that would be the most damning piece of evidence. Her answer would be the final nail in Bradley's coffin. Dante, herself, seemed to look at Bradley for a mere second before lifting her head in dignity. Then she answered, "No. I was never aware."
The court exhaled into a series of murmurs that the judge had to silence and Roy flicked the TV off. Judging from Klemin's sputters, he didn't care to stick around and watch the defense attorney be a laughingstock. With that done, Mustang turned back to his paperwork for the remainder of the day.
Evening came far too quickly and his team bid him good night, each of them keeping their noses down in Archer's presence. Hawkeye left as well. Obviously she wouldn't be joining him on his stakeout tonight. Mustang continued his paperwork until Archer bid good night and the East PD chief surreptitiously followed him. It was a familiar route. Actually, it was practically the same route he had followed the night before, though he skipped the strip club. Roy still followed him, and found himself outside Archer's motel room in East City, using coffee to keep himself awake. It was shortly after midnight when his phone rang. Roy blearily reached for his phone but found there was no call, though there was still a ringing.
Mustang's brow furrowed as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his old cell phone, the one he felt had been compromised. The screen was lit up with a call from "Blocked". He knew it was probably a bad idea to answer the call. After all, who would be calling him with a blocked number on this phone? Mustang answered it anyway, curious as to who it was. "Roy Mustang."
"Mr. Mustang, it's wonderful to finally talk," said the voice from the other end. It sounded young and unfamiliar to his ears. Regardless, the chief persisted with the conversation.
"And who exactly am I talking to?" he asked, hoping to whittle something out. Roy's eyes flicked over to Archer's room, but saw that all the lights were off. That was ruling him out.
"Me? I'm the one who sent all those threatening texts to Edward Elric during your investigation," the voice responded.
"Are you? If that's true, why not just send me a text?"
"Because I'm not threatening you," the voice said. "I want to meet in person. There's some information I have to share, and it can't wait, okay?"
"Why would you want to give me information?" Roy asked warily. This entire situation was strange and he had to be careful, especially after hearing the sigh on the other end.
"I'll tell you that when we meet, but I need you to guarantee my safety. It's imperative that we meet in secret."
"Fine, I can do that. Where do you want to meet?" Mustang's hand quietly slid over to his gun, though it wasn't like the owner of the voice was anywhere nearby.
"An old industrial park by the East City Armstrong Mansion. One hour." It seemed a strange place to meet, but Roy knew it. He also knew he'd be calling backup with his burner phone, which led to a separate issue.
"You know, it may not be safe, calling me on this phone," he pointed out.
"It's safe…because I'm the one who made it unsafe originally. I'll tell you that later, too. You'll be there, right?"
"Yes, but can you at least tell me who you are? I'd like to know who I'm meeting." There was a moment of silence and Mustang feared he had hung up. He hadn't, and he answered after their silence passed.
"Selim Bradley."
Author's Note: Be honest, how many of you saw half the events of this chapter coming? How about the ending? Much of this chapter I had planned out back when I was still writing To Catch a Killer, to be honest. It was great to finally get it on paper. The story's tumbling forward now, so rest assured more things will happen next time. Until next time, though, Review, and Dare to Be Silly.
