My apologies for the long delay in updating. I am currently going through a rather large and stressful matter that involves both my work and my health. As a result, this has sapped my creative energy and I have suffered major writers block. I know where this fic is going, and how it will end, it's just the actual writing of the story that has been blocked.
Not far to go now, however!
"Aaahhhhh man! Waddya done? That was my smoker!"
Cap turned to see the erstwhile naked sleeping man standing near the pulled apart scene. At least he had put on a pair of shorts now. "What the… You built this?"
"Yeah. I read about it in a book. Livin' with the environment, ya see. With a smoker I can make my own jerky and stuff. We were testin' it to see how long it'd take."
Cap's hands were on his hips, and his men moved slowly so that they were behind him. They knew the look on his face, and they weren't sure if this would be the time he absolutely lost it with a member of the public.
Captain Stanley's voice was ominously calm. "Stoker, call in and cancel the arson guys. The rest of you finish clearing up this mess. And you," he said and pointed to the unkempt man, "come with me and this Officer. We're going to have a little chat about your smoker."
They were so gullible these Angelenos. All he had to do was to persuade them that his God would offer a better way. For some it was renewal – elimination of decay, ugliness to allow beauty in. For others, the allure was destruction. He really didn't care, as long as they could be persuaded to aid his God.
He turned on the television and his eyes widened. There was his god in all his raging glory in a brushfire – somewhere up in the north-west of Washington state.
It was beautiful. He sank into a chair in front of the television and watched, enthralled.
Chief Houts; Captain Williams from Arson, the Chief Mechanic, a Battalion Chief from LA County Fire Department, as well as Detective Crockett and arson Investigators from Glendale, Pasadena and LA City Fire Departments, and Detectives from the same areas. And her. Hopefully her report would be able to help everybody shed some light on the arsons and help to catch the arsonist – before more firefighters were hurt, or worse, killed.
She was impressed at how all the investigators had tied together a series of arsons, some of which she had had no idea of. But the way that Detective Crockett explained she could see the connections and made some notes on her own findings adding them and their connection.
There were some fires that were listed that seemed some of the same attributes, but not all. She would have to study them with her FBI contacts.
"Well Gentlemen – and my fellow Ladies. I've called in help from the new FBI profilers on this because it's a learning process for me too. But we've come up with a profile that we think is accurate," she said. "First of all we're dealing with a single male – probably in his mid 30's to early 40's. He may have a military background and definitely has knowledge of both chemical warfare and bomb making, which also speaks to the military background.
"Our suspect is one of those arsonists who love fire – possibly even worships it. He sees the Fire Departments as the enemy – destroying the fires he creates. He's deliberately targeted fire engines and, sadly, has tried to deliberately kill at least three members of the LACounty Fire Department.
"This man is clever. And charismatic. He's managed to get close to engines to find out how they are operated, and he's managed to get specification documents from both Ward and Crown; as well as managing to gain access to buildings to set his devices. He also knows how to blend in with a crowd. We think he's been at every fire he's set."
Georgie took a breath. Here was where she was going to go off-report, given the information that they had already discussed. "I've only seen these other suspected fires today so I'm doing some guesswork here. I do want to take the suspected arsons back to the FBI and work on them.
"Firstly – there are too many similarities to the other ones for them to be a completely different person setting them. He seems to have stopped targeting engines, but if what I suspect is true, then there's a reason for that.
"We know this man has charisma, and is able to persuade people to give him what he wants. And, sadly, Californians seem to be especially vulnerable to this. We also call it "star power". I suspect that this guy is building a following. I don't know what his approach is, but he's probably building quite a gathering. Most of these will be easily led people, and able to follow order, but know when to act on their own initiative.
"Those fires you feel are him but can't quite include them, if you say that they were set by his followers then that provides the connection for them all.
"The reason engines aren't being involved – at the moment at least - is because he doesn't trust his followers to do that without being caught. He only seems to have hit the area covered by the people represented here, but I think we need to spread the word about him – and his followers. Especially the MO that they seem to use."
"Is he insane?" A female Detective from Pasadena asked.
"I don't know. I wouldn't know until I was able to get face to face and talk to him. And there are mental conditions that don't actually come under the category of insane, but are still a mental illness. But you can't tell until you are actually speaking to them and perform some of the tests that have been developed."
"So, is this person black or white?"
Georgie sighed. In a perfect world, that question wouldn't be asked. The civil rights movement should have negated it. But it wasn't a perfect world, and as much as she hated to have an answer for it, she had to face facts.
"Honestly – I would love to say it doesn't matter. It could be anybody. But sadly, the civil rights movement has not completely gotten rid of entrenched ideas. All races of humankind contain people with the traits to do these arsons. But right now, in the USA, I have to say this is a white male, probably born in the USA with English as his first language. Simply because he needs people to trust him to be able to do what he's done. And the only people with the power to gain that trust, and the opportunity to get the education he needed are white males."
"Doc," Crockett said earnestly, "I appreciate what you're sayin. But lets face facts here – detective work is all about elimination of suspects. And by being able to give that information, you've eliminated a hell of a lot of suspects. If he has formed a following, then we don't just want the followers – we need the ringleader. We have him, and the followers disburse. I know I've got some informants who may be able to shed some light on any new firebug groups that have formed. And I suspect I'm not the only one."
He was nodding, as were all the others around the table. "We need to work together so that we're not pullin' all the same people in. Compare lists, and then decide who pulls who in, where and when. We don't want to tip off our birdie."
God it was good to be home! To finally be clean all over, to not smell perpetually of smoke, to not taste grit and smoke in his mouth. To be able to breathe fresh air, with that slight tang of the sea that he usually never noticed until times like this.
Mike Stoker stretched and did breathe in deep again. Sometimes, he had found their home at Seal Beach to be too out of the way – too far from work. But really, it ws a quite easy 20 minute drive to the station and if it was out of LA County, it was only just out. And definitely worth it for the fresh air and lack of LA smog.
He smiled as he walked into the kitchen and draped himself around Georgie, breathing in her scent from her hair. Yeah – this was the best thing about home. Georgie. She twisted round and hugged and kissed him.
"Hank's beaten you to breakfast," she said. "I've done up a nice big platter of fresh fruit – nice and cold to go down smokey throats. Do you want coffee or juice?"
Mike moved and took his seat at the kitchen table, squeezing Hank's shoulder as he went past. "Juice sounds great for the moment, Georgie. I'm so tired, I want to be able to sleep. But I'm hungrier than I am tired."
"You and me both, babe," Hank said around a mouthful of cantaloupe. "Two days off and I fully intend to spend at least the next twelve hours sleeping. I hate brushfire season."
"Don't we all. Are you going to sit and eat, Georgie?"
She smiled and came to sit between them. "I am now you're both here eating," she said. And a good thing I stayed up all last night watching a movie marathon and catching up on my paperwork. I can sleep with you both."
Hank frowned. "You shouldn't have done that, Sweetheart."
"Hank, Mike, I couldn't have slept even if I wanted to. The news was showing footage of other fires, and I have to say that Big Red was a bit prominent."
"Yeah – ever since they featured us in that special brushfire report, and before that with that "Day in the Life" thing that they did, they seem to want to focus in on us. Of course, Big Red deserves all the spotlight she can get. She's the real star." Mike's eyes were glowing as he spoke of his Engine and Georgie just smiled at him and punched him lightly on the arm.
"Good thing I know Hank at least loves me more than Big Red."
Hank laughed and kissed her, moving his chair close so he could tuck her against his side. "I wouldn't dare do anything else. Besides, I'm not an Engineer any more." Georgie just snorted, and Mike moved close.
"Don't believe a word he says. I've seen him polishing her. And you should hear what happens if he thinks she isn't clean enough."
"We have a reputation to maintain, Michael," Hank said mildly, sipping his coffee. "Besides, it's in the Manual. Don't you have any patients today?"
"It's Saturday, Hank. I only do urgent cases on a Saturday and Sunday. And that new answering service and pager takes care of the phones. Anything urgent, they page me – or they can put the call straight through to the phone here if necessary. And yes – I've tried it. It will wake me up from quite a sound sleep."
She looked up at Hank's concerned eyes. "Hank, the girls and their mother, your Boys and anybody from the Fire Department are automatically put through. Same with Mike's parents. Don't worry."
"You think of everything."
"Well, actually it was Consuela thought of it. Sometimes I think I work for her rather than she for me."
"Speaking of work;" Hank flipped a pile of papers to Mike. "You should read that, Mike. The Ward guys have worked out how Red was damaged. And they've made recommendations to prevent something similar being done again."
Mike's face darkened with anger. "It's about time," he said, and began to read.