Chapter 10

Detective Kay Basil, Kirkland Police Department, sat at her desk going over some files. 31, with flaming red-gold hair, firm and toned arms, legs and abs. She looked 23, thanks in part to a devoted exercise regimen she shared with her Deputy Sheriff husband. Consisting of regular swims and studies in Karate, supplemented by her additional qualifications as Defensive Tactics Instructor for the department, one wouldn't know that she was a mother and wife to look at her.

This appearance had served her in good stead too many times to count when as a beat cop she quickly lost count of the number of times that the barely sentient pond scum in human form she dealt with daily had tried to physically assault her just because of her gender.

In addition to her D.T.I. qualifications, she was also held a degree as a psychological profiler that had assisted on and even broken on occasion, cases that had senior detectives stumped. There were even a couple of commendations on her jacket for assisting federal agents. The cases she was reviewing at that moment were just such an example. Preliminary investigations into the spreading gang 'Poison Adder' had indicated a high level of organization that was further refining into something well and truly dangerous.

She had five folders, three men and two woman that had been forwarded to her first through the FBI then the ATF. Detective Basil suspected they were more closely linked than was being thought at first. So far, the offenses for these five began with the usual gang tagging, gang initiations where new members would have the crap kicked out of them to see how tough they were, shoplifting, failure to appear in court, restraining orders and weapons charges; but over the last year and a half or so had shifted focus to religious hate crimes against churches, mosques, cemeteries and other related places of consecrated or "holy ground"..

There were also reports of harassment of priests, nuns and even common church goers. What had finally gotten Detective Basil's ire were the physical assaults on those same people. She herself was a God-fearing Christian woman. Maybe not as ardent as the average born-again, but she did go to church when she could; had been married in a church and had her first-born baptised as well.

Of the five, she recognized one of them right away. Ronald Franks, "Reggae" to his fellow gang bangers, was wanted on a multitude of charges all over the state of Washington. Most recently, he had been named a "person of interest" for a suspected drive-by shooting on a church where the Head Pastor had been critically wounded. Only the intervention of a first-aid qualified parishioner who had been there that day to seek spiritual advice had prevented the Pastor from bleeding out.

She removed the Standing Arrest Warrant from its pocket in the file on "Reggae", took his picture out and locked up his and the rest of the folders in her desk, opened the top drawer and pulled out her gold shield and Glock-17 9mm pistol, loaded a full magazine of 17 rounds of hollow point, cycled the weapon to "hot" and put it in its pancake holster on her hip and her jacket on over that. As she walked towards the door with both picture and Warrant in hand she asked the Duty Sergeant at the desk to send the first available unit to meet her at the mini-mart just down the street from the precinct to be briefed on the suspect. As she exited the building, a loud thunder clap sounded through the humid, overcast sky and she shuddered involuntarily. "I don't like thunder. Not for almost ten years now. I hope this isn't a bad omen," she said to herself.

Returning to his celestial palace, after leaving Johnny and Jordanna in Thailand, Raiden returned to his Study and reviewed the file that Sonya and Jax had given him. From there, he slid down a lightning bolt to a dead end alley in Kirkland. Using the same technique his predecessor had, he threw a curtain of lightning around him and willed his clothes to change from what he wore in Thailand, to an immaculate suit of black slacks, white shirt, black tie and black jacket identical to what he had seen in pictures of federal agents. With a quick flick of the wrist, he had in hand a precise FBI picture ID and badge in matching case that identified him as Special Agent Ron Ingrid, a play on his mortal name, and put the holder in an inside pocket next to the picture of his first target, Ronald "Reggae" Franks.

Raiden knocked on the door to the discreet, pale green house in a neighborhood that fell between the true suburbs of Kirkland and the city itself. A small fenced yard lay in front of the house with a four foot tall chain-ling fence around it. A table and some mismatched chairs were clustered around a barbeque grill that had clearly seen better days but was still functional.

An older woman answered the door after the first knocks. Raiden, in his role as Agent Ingrid, smiled as he showed her is ID, "Mrs. Franks?" "Yes", she said. "My name is Ron Ingrid; I'm an agent with the FBI." She nodded and tiredly said, "What's my son done this time sir?" Raiden smiled again and said, "It's not so much what he has done as what he may have gotten involved in. Accidentally, I'm sure, but just the same, I'd like to ask him a few questions is all."

She smiled knowingly and said, "I doubt very much that my son is 'accidentally' involved in anything. He's been in trouble since he knew what trouble was but at least he still treats me decently. I don't know for sure where he is, but you might try down towards the warehouse district. He does a lot of odd jobs for some nightclubs and bars down there. I still worry that he'll get himself in over his head but he's old enough to make his own choices and live with them."

Raiden smiled again and said, "Thank you for your time Mrs. Franks. You've been very helpful. If you find out anything, please call me," as he handed over a business card. She took it and closed the door as he left. "Next stop, the warehouse district", he said to himself.

Barely an hour later, Detective Basil knocked on the door to "Reggae's" house. When his mom answered but before she could identify herself, Mrs. Franks said, "I'll tell you the same thing I told the FBI man who was here before you, I don't know where my son is but you can try the warehouse district. The suit gave me his card. I was being nice by taking it but I wasn't going to call him."

Detective Basil took the card, "The FBI, ma'am?" "That's what I said," answered Mrs. Franks as she closed the door in Basil's face. Basil turned to her back-up and said, "Head over to Club Jet in the warehouse district. If Reggae is anywhere right now he'll be there. I'd like to question him first before this FBI agent does. I'll meet you there." The two uniforms nodded in understanding and left. Basil looked at the card, "Agent Ron Ingrid; Ron Ingrid . . . why does that name ring a bell?"