As Malcolm emerged from the taxi in Hunts Point, he was hit by a wall of smell, it was not surprising, just unpleasant. The Fulton Fish Market loomed in front of him, it was mostly deserted. At half past two, the market's peak hours were long over and the only individuals who remained were packing and moving materials. While the entrances were not labeled, he made his way through the market to the north side of the building. Emerging from a set of sliding doors, he could see the gates mentioned in the message, but no one was around.
Crossing the causeway to the gateway he was surprised to discover it manned by a woman in a pair of denim coveralls and a simple navy baseball hat. Stepping forward he said "Hello, I am looking for..."
"Me." The woman in the coveralls said, while handing him a pair of rubber gloves. "Mr. Bright, it is so good to finally meet you, Miranda Long."
Malcolm was shocked, he could not help but stare with his mouth slightly ajar. The woman before him was in her early 40's, her blunt bob was plastered to her face by the baseball cap. Diamond studs at her ears caught the mid-afternoon light and peeking out from under her coveralls was a spectacular pearl necklace. She was wearing a pair of rubber boots and gloves.
"Let's go through and talk, we have a lot to discuss."
Malcolm followed silently through the gate and into the passenger seat of a waiting van. Ms. Long took the wheel from the driver, who climbed in the back, and proceeded to drive around the massive warehouse to the rear entrance. Once parked she exited the vehicle, leaving the keys in the ignition and motioned through the windshield for Malcolm to follow her into the building.
"The Fulton Fish Market is almost 200 years old. This building, however, has only been in operation for the past 15 years. Prior to its relocation, the market was in Manhattan. In the old days most of the fish was brought in directly from ships, now everything is trucked in. The entire Hunts Point complex is one of the most important agricultural marketplaces on the Eastern seaboard." Ms. Long continued as she led him around fish stalls, weights, and cleaning stations.
Malcolm was utterly confused.
"The market is managed by a public commission, but during the renovation of the facility many of the vendors recommended that belowground storage be added in addition to the surface trading area. This way any seafood that needed to be transported live could be moved in tanks without fear of flooding work areas." Miranda said as she led the way through stripped curtains of plastic to a subterranean tunnel. The tunnel gave way to a dark and gloomy area. "I was called by an associate a few days ago, I heard about your recent delivery. We have a mutual acquaintance."
"I was under the impression that the Whitley's and Milton's were unconnected to the Long family."
"Mr. Bright, I believe you knew Mr. Castile." Miranda walked over to a walk-in refrigeration unit door and pulled it open. As she stepped out of the way Malcolm could see a man slumped over in the back of the unit. The man was in his mid-forties, with grey balding hair and was dressed in the white uniform of a fishmonger. He was unremarkable in every way, neither tall nor short, neither fat nor thin, the type of man you would see and, unless intimately acquainted, would never remember. It was someone Malcolm had no desire ever to set eyes on again. "Mr. Castile worked in this market for many years. I was quite disturbed to receive a call from one of my transport managers that he was found in this state this morning."
Malcolm walked over and knelt next to the man. There was a gunshot wound in his chest. Clearly this was the cause of death. "Do you know who was responsible?"
"At the moment I only have a hunch. However, I do know that in the past he was in the employ of an acquaintance of Nicholas Endicott."
Things were starting to fall into place, the death of the purser, the murder of a cleaner. Someone was trying to cover their own tracks.
"An assassin." Malcolm said aloud.
"That would be my thought. Mr. Castile's skills were legend."
Suddenly curious, Malcolm dared to ask the question that had been playing on his mind. "How did you come to make use of his services?"
"My grandfather had an unfortunate incident in Miami several years ago, following a failed agricultural exchange. Mr. Castile happened to be based in South Florida at the time. One of my associates recommended him, he has been on my payroll ever since." Malcolm found her language and demeanor opaque she was speaking in riddles and half-truths and he was having trouble reading her.
On the drive to the warehouse, he had conducted his research on this woman. From his research he learned how she had inherited a percentage of the business from her grandfather upon her birthday and instead of remaining with the company she traded her shares to her sibling for controlling ownership in an underperforming pharmaceutical research firm and how she transformed it into one of the leading agricultural medicine providers in the world. How her brother initiated a hostile takeover once it was successful and eventually how she returned to the family fold, all before she was 40.
"I imagine you were surprised to learn he was taking jobs on the side."
"Actually no. Our arrangement was mutually beneficial." She said with a slight smile playing at the edge of her lips. "A person must always practice in order to remain a master of one's craft."
Miranda had never married, it seemed as though she was married to her job, her businesses, the life she had built. There were few pictures of her, save her testimony before congress about a soybean virus. Five years ago her hair had been long and red, she wore the Chanel uniform that was ubiquitous among the scions of billionaires, not the fishwife pretense she currently donned. In video of her recorded testimony, she shared how her brother and father manipulated the soy commodities futures by hiding the accidental release of the engineered blight. She was sympathetic, her genuine disgust at their behavior evident in the tears which spilled from grey eyes as spoke of the farmers who lost lives and their livelihoods as a result to the choices of her nearest relations. Following the hearings, she was tapped by her grandfather to take over the family business. While the family firm's footprint in the U.S. remained below the radar of the U.S. Antitrust division, her machinations were globally impactful. In the years following her ascent she had quadrupled its market share through aggressive global consolidation and quintupled its revenues.
The woman before him, and the woman from his research shared only one thing, striking grey eyes. She was undoubtedly a sociopath and betrayed no emotion when discussing the man before them and the jobs he took on while in her employ.
"Why did you reach out to me?"
"Mr. Castile and I were quite close. When you requested his services, he reached out personally for permission. He was hesitant as the Whitley name could bring undue scrutiny to our operations." Malcolm did not comment, he knew that his father, though helpful, was as equal parts liability and asset. "As your mother's association with Endicott was well established, I was less inclined to be dismissive." Malcolm raised his eyebrow while she continued. "In the end the situation resolved itself to our mutual benefit."
While she did not elaborate, her tone was enough. Whatever business or personal relationship with Endicott had long since soured and he had become a dangerous confrère.
"I reached out to you today as I heard about the body at the marina."
"Yes. It has attracted the attention of Simon Hoxley."
"That is why you are here." This was news. That she knew Hoxley was not altogether surprising, as a member of INTERPOL, and a famous profiler, he was well known across the transnational criminal community. What Malcolm was curious to know is how she had heard of his presence in New York, when he only learned of it a few hours ago.
"It is?"
"His departure from Berlin caused quite the disturbance yesterday." She stated. It was clear from her tone that his presence had taken her away from whatever other business she had been attending to at the time. "The reporting on the marina further complicated the situation. We found the services provided by members of the crew invaluable, but I was not the only one to lease the yacht or it's services over the years."
"Oh?"
"Endicott lost his subtlety over the past decade. He thought that he was, but he took too much pleasure in his pet projects. His inability to control his impulses were becoming a liability for his other associates."
"Fixing the problems of others can become quite expensive." Malcolm replied quietly.
"Exactly." Miranda said with a smile this gesture was intended to draw him in, to inspire curiosity and comradery. It was the smile of someone who knew the power of an act of endearment. But it did not work, Malcolm saw through it as a baring of teeth; they were small, white, and sharp; and yet also not overly bright, too large, or intimidating. She had been threatened by Endicott and with him dead some unknown obstacle was removed from her own path. Now understanding that Miranda needed his assistance, Malcolm felt marginally more confident in asking his own questions.
"I am sure that the situation you are currently in is a nuisance. How can I be of assistance?"
"Nicholas did not evolve." Miranda said with exasperation. "As the world grew more interconnected, he remained a mostly analogue player. While he dabbled in new technologies, the instruments he used are traceable."
"Remuneration is always challenging." He responded with a nod.
"Portfolio diversification is the most efficient tool. All investments come with an element of risk. Some are riskier than others, and therefore frequently the most rewarding."
"I will admit, I was surprised when I was told that I would not be expected to make any payments for services rendered by Mr. Castile. I did receive a call from my advisor the next day. He had been informed about a new bond portfolio and I was able to move some funds around for him to carry out the investment."
"Bonds are a stable investment. They generally yield good returns."
"Do you know anything about Aliivibiologics?"
"Yes, they are a subsidiary of one of our Pacific fisheries. I believe they are doing research on symbiotic bioluminescence."
"Are there market applications for such research?"
"Of course. Natural bioluminescence has the ability to redirect or occlude shadows." With statement, he saw a bit of the real woman behind the façade. Her tone shifted, there was an optimism in her response. Ms. Long clearly enjoyed her work, enjoyed the opportunity to find something new. She may have been a woman with her own agenda, but she was interested in not only creative destruction, but also in innovation.
"That sounds like it would have numerous applications in a variety of industries."
"It would. However, current research and development initiative are not likely to yield success. The most recent data shows that subject contamination and cross-species toxicity remain quite high." With this statement her tone betrayed her disappointment. "I am certain that that subsidiary will default on the bond in the next year."
"That would be unfortunate for anyone looking to for a meaningful return."
"The bond was not especially highly rated. Anyone who invested in the instrument would have understood the potential monetary cost."
"Of course."
"In any case, business provides an example to us all. Evolution, innovation, planning, and, most especially, luck are all requirements for success." She replied before continuing. "Endicott did not understand. He continued to rely on outdated methods, and now his associates are paying the price."
"I take it you mean Mr. Castile?"
"No. Mr. Castile was never affiliated with Endicott." She turned away from the body against the wall. "Mr. Castile was an associate for one of Nicholas' liquidators. I believe that the authorities are closing in, as Endicott is no longer around to direct the light on others. It is why the yacht was a crime scene this morning, the person in question is attempting to remove the players from the board before they can identify him."
"Unfortunately, Mr. Castile will bring undue scrutiny to my own affairs, it is why I called you here today. I need this to look like its own design." She said as she motioned to the gunshot on his chest.
"I believe that might have been misguided. Between the painting and this gentleman, we are now quite entangled."
"What do you know about lobsters?" Malcolm made eye contact he was quite surprised at her train of thought.
"Are you serious?"
"Always." She replied, "But before he is moved, you will need these." She handed him a pair of scissors, and numerous other tools. "I am sure you have already deduced the identity of the man in question. Once you locate him, you can use what you collect here to ensure everyone is protected from Endicott's miscalculations."
"Why me?"
"You are the only one who can make sure the right information is found in the right place at the right time. While I can move about the globe unseen, I do not have quite the same access as you do in the places that matter at this moment."
"And the painting."
"Gift from a friend, I needed to get rid of it. But you don't need to worry. Soon enough you will be told it is the original." She said this with a smile.
"Then why now?"
"Mr. Bright, our meeting today was unanticipated. I had hoped to put this exchange off for another few months, but Hoxely's investigation accelerated my timeline." This is not what Malcolm wanted to hear. It was a challenge to manage on a day-to-day basis as the son of the surgeon and now the brother to another killer. He did not need to be obliged to keeping the secrets of yet another murderess. "Don't look so forlorn. The task you preform today should more than clear the slate. I promise, I will not prevail upon you unless your unique services or resources are absolutely essential. And, in return, I expect the same courtesy to be extended."
Malcolm was forced to nod in assent. While it was not what he wanted, but he had to acknowledge that her terms were acceptable.
"For the moment, I will leave you to your endeavors. The Market is closed until midnight, I believe that should be enough time."
"Are there enough in the tank outside?"
"I believe so. I will meet you at the entrance." With that she turned and left the cold storage room and Malcolm was left alone with Mr. Castile.
His plan was simple, remove the gentleman's thumb and use it to implicate Endicott's hired gun. In the process he would clear the books, it would look like Nicholas had been murdered by one of his own associates, and the person who had cleaned the scene and transported the body had been taken out by the man hired to tie up loose ends. It should have come easy by now, breaking down a body. After Endicott, the removal of a thumb should not have been a challenge, but it was. Dismembering Nicholas was justice fueled by his own protective instinct. This was mutilation.
Malcolm was at least comforted in the knowledge that his efforts would not be discovered quickly or easily. While not naturally cannibalistic, lobsters were deprived of food from the moment they were caught. Most people did not know the reason why claws had to be bound, it was not because they were sharp or especially dangerous, it was so that they would not eat each other in transport to their final location. If provided while in captivity, a lobster would consume any flesh or food source they had access to. Mr. Castile's missing digit would be initially unmissed as it could easily be attributed to teeth lined stomach of the crustacean.
With his task complete, he removed the body from the freezer and pushed him into the tank moving as quietly as possible. While he was quite sure that Ms. Long had removed all observers and obstacles from the room, he did not want to linger any more than strictly necessary. As he followed the exit signs to the tunnel and back into the marketplace he was struck by the quiet. Although the trading floor was fully illuminated no one was around, he could hear only his footsteps, the hum of lights, and the refrigeration units as he returned to the vehicle. Miranda was waiting in the backseat of a town car. She had removed her coveralls and hat. To his surprise her hair was long, and she was dressed in a simple black suit with an androgenous cut. The guise was another transformation, entirely appropriate to her own shifting nature.
"I thought a cab from here is a bit too conspicuous. Mr. Maynard will drive you at your home after dropping me off."
"Of course." Malcolm replied.
Their ride was quiet. Traffic was heavy but not overwhelming as they entered Queens. They were headed to the airport, a development that did not relieve Malcolm. He knew that if Ms. Long was heading out of New York, she would not be checking up on developments personally. Had she remained in town, he would have been assured that she would keep her distance and that he would not be monitored. By leaving town he felt more under the microscope, and the stress of that made an unexpected appearance in the twitch of his fingers. Despite his best attempts to hid his tic, it was observed.
"You have a nervous personality Mr. Bright."
"The consequence of growing up the son of a serial killer."
"Why let someone else define you and your emotions?" She asked this with true curiosity. He could tell that she was someone who had few emotions and shared even less.
"Fear is powerful. It can take hold of you and never let you go. Childhood fears are especially potent, they define development." Malcolm replied. It was the answer of a psychologist.
"Hmm. My father and brother were terrible men. In some ways not quite as bad as The Surgeon, but worse in their own way. Fear can also be a source of strength. It can be a means for control." Her reply was meant to be instructive; she was sharing insight about how she managed herself. "It was my pleasure to meet you today Mr. Bright." She said as the driver pulled up to the airport drop off zone, "It is my hope that we will cross path anytime in the near future."
After she exited the car, she did not look back and Malcolm was left to consider all that had occurred. He took his time reflecting on the events of the day and in doing so realized that he had not yet reconnected with Gil, Dani or JT. Pulling out his phone, he carefully considered what he wanted to communicate. He had walked out on interviews to meet with his sister only to later be unavailable because of the impromptu trip to the Bronx.
In the end he settled on calling JT, while not his partner, he was the most likely of the team to inform him of the missed events without asking him about his activities for the day.
"Hello." It was always a statement with JT, never a question.
"So, what'd I miss?"
"Not much, Hoxley came in and talked to Gil. The paperwork on the crew is a mess, and Dani is down with Edrisa now."
"Any updates on what killed Stephenson?"
"Not yet. But I did hear about your little delivery. Must be nice."
"How did you hear?" This was news to Malcolm, given what he knew about Detective Lawrence's interview style, he had not expected gossip between departments.
"I have a buddy at One-P-P. Said you were in with a suit yesterday. Your statement was uploaded to the server today."
"Huh." Malcolm had not expected JT to be curious about this, it was not in his nature to want to inquire or make small talk beyond the scope of a case.
"Only you would get a Van Gogh delivered to your front door."
"What? So, it's confirmed?"
"Not yet." He replied, "But, the preliminary report looks good. They sent it up to the Met for further analysis."
"Thanks for the update." Malcolm replied. "Any luck with the owners of the boat?"
"It looks like it is owned by a corporation that is owned by another entity offshore. Hoxley is working to untangle it now with some of his European contacts." JT Replied. "Dude, who is he?"
"Hoxley is a profiler, a celebrity in Europe. He known for always catching the killer. Do we know who he is looking for?"
"I think Gil does, but so far nothing new to report. Hey, I gotta go ICE just sent me some records." JT said as he ended the call.
In a few minutes he was deposited in front of his home. He quickly ran inside and deposited Mr. Castile's digit in his freezer, taking great pains to hide the digit where it would not be seen or discovered by prying eyes. While people rarely visited his apartment, on occasion his mother's housekeeper would swing by unannounced to clean or deposit groceries. Under no circumstances did he want her discovering it on accident. Once safely secured he tidied up and called a cab so that he could make his way to his mother's house for dinner.
The ride uptown was mercifully short, and when he arrived his mother was already holding court in the sitting room, Ainsley by her side. Immediately upon seeing Malcom she began "I was just telling your sister. You will never believe who visited me this afternoon, Simon Hoxley."
"I was just telling Mom that he was at your crime scene this morning."
"What was he doing here?" Malcolm asked as he slumped down in the chair opposite the lounge.
"He came to ask about Nicholas Endicott." Jessica replied. "A detestable man, he was talking about how this room was the scene of the crime."
"And what did you say mother." Malcolm was frustrated. While Ainsley could hide her emotions under a veneer of indifference, Jessica wore her heart on her sleeve. She was not one to conceal anything even if it was in their own best interest.
"I told him he was being preposterous and that I had no idea what he was talking about."
"Why did you even let him in?" Ainsley asked.
"What was I supposed to do let him ring the bell all day?" Jessica replied testily.
"Of course not." Malcolm interjected. "But, maybe instead of inviting the wolf to come inside, you think about calling one of the many attorneys you keep on retainer before you speak to law enforcement in the future."
"How dare you, Malcolm." Jessica began "It's not like anyone else was around for him to talk to."
"I was busy."
"Yeah, where have you been all day?" Ainsley inquired, "I went to the station after I completed production, but Gil said you left early to go meet with someone."
"I did, I may have found a solution to our problem. It involves a lot of people and I will need to leave early to get it all taken care of so no one comes back looking for Ainsley."
"Malcolm what have you gotten yourself in to?" His mother said in her most exasperated tone.
"It's not what I have gotten into, it's what I am trying to do. You have no idea what I am doing to keep this family safe."
"I have no doubt you will do your best dear." His mother replied. It not something he wanted to discuss further, but her tone was condescending and the tenuous hold he had on his last ounce of composure finally snapped.
"My best? Maybe you'd like to know about the thumb in my freezer."
"No, we don't" replied Jessica.
"Really? Seriously?" said Ainsley with a look of intense interest and curiosity. It was the last thing Malcolm needed; he had no desire to get her more interested in sticking her nose any further into this debacle.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair, while his mother stood to pour him a drink.
"What are we going to do?" She asked when she finally turned around.
"We do nothing. You do nothing." Malcolm replied, in the other room he heard his phone chirp. Leaving his mother and sister momentarily he walked to the hall to retrieve his phone and examine at the message. It was from Simon Hoxley.
Come to the boat at 8:00. We need to talk privately.
"I have to go." He shouted to his mother and sister.
"But Malcolm, you just arrived." His mother called back as Ainsley emerged from the sitting room behind him.
"It's Hoxley, I told him if he needed anything he could reach out. If I don't go, he will get suspicious."
"Fine, fine." His mother said coming up behind his sister.
"I will call you later. Stay inside and wait for me to call before you do anything." Malcolm replied as he shrugged into his coat.
Emerging from the house Malcolm looked at his watched and noted he had just enough time to make one last stop on his way to the marina. He knew then it would be a long night.
So this is another chapter out before the next episode. I do not know if this will dovetail into 2x08, but if it does not, I have a different end to the story now so either way I am fairly motivated to finish. I am certain that I want to, until I no longer am. We shall see how the next few days progress. Comments and suggestions are always appreciated, also I do not have a beta so all mistakes are my own.