37: Backroom Plotting

Another morning in New York City, and this one brought with it some grim tidings. Griggs had found himself in the office at the precinct earlier than he normally would report in, at least for a day shift (and those were all he had, now that his partner was suspended). He was falling into desk work, it seemed, which would have suited him just fine had he not been trying to dig into the very case that had seen his partner and his gargoyle colleague thrown off of the force, perhaps for good. Captain Haden had had no answer for him when he had inquired as to how long those two might be gone, and he believed it when the man said that the matter was out of his hands. Greater forces were at work here and Haden was simply caught in the middle. No wonder he was so high-strung, Griggs mused.

It was a little cooler today than it had been the past few days. The grey jacket Griggs had elected to wear to work this morning was actually feasible in this weather, at least until he found his way into the precinct itself. The air-conditioning was still non-functional on his floor, and the stuffiness of the office environment was enough to compel him to rip the jacket off almost as soon as he had reported in.

Waiting by his workstation, cast in the morning light that shone in through the arch-shaped windows nearby, was Ferretti. He nodded to Griggs as he entered, and in one hand he held up an SD card. Griggs felt a little rush then, realising that somehow Ferretti had come through for him, despite his reservations about the man. With the office floor still relatively quiet, given the early hour, the pair were able to converse without worrying too much about eavesdroppers. As for Captain Haden, he was already in his office, this time barking at someone into his phone. Something about misplaced coroner's reports, Griggs could only pick up a few words here and there. Just the usual stuff-ups that seemed to plague the police department, it seemed.

"What's that?" Griggs asked, as he stopped at his desk. Ferretti placed the SD card upon the desktop, offering the older Detective a smug grin.

"The traffic camera footage," Ferretti said. "I called in a favour at the Department of Transportation. There's a guy there who's helped me on a few cases. I thought he might be able to get what you were after."

"And did he?"

"Partially. He got a few seconds of the vehicle that, I suspect, the people who broke-in were driving. It's a bit of a guess, so it's not much, but it's what I have to offer you on your crusade for the truth." Ferretti added this last part with something dubious in his voice. "That's about all I'm willing to stick my neck out for. Something tells me you're going to get yourself into a world of shit if you pursue this."

"Don't you want the truth?"

"It's a Federal matter now," Ferretti countered. "I want the truth as much as any man, but I know better than to go sticking my nose in FBI business. I don't want to lose my job."

"This is bigger than your job, or mine." Griggs sat down at his desk, switching on his computer monitor as he went. He picked up the SD card and slipped it into the appropriate slot on the desktop PC, waiting a moment as it read the files on the card.

"You think you're going to find the guys who broke in with that?" Ferretti asked him, his face adopting a much more doubting expression.

"Maybe. I'm not ruling it out. Still, I feel like if they even let themselves get sighted for a few seconds then they've made a mistake. These guys, they knew what they were doing. And they have help from somewhere higher-up if any sighting of them has mysteriously disappeared off of any recordings." Griggs watched as the video began to play, little more than five seconds of a white van going through an empty intersection on some quiet backstreet. The single streetlight present provided only some small amount of light, and the speed at which the van moved was enough to make reading the license plate difficult. It replayed over and over again, with Griggs watching it closely each time, eyes taking in every detail before he clicked the 'pause' button. The license plate was still blurred. Not much help there, but he was sure that the image could be cleaned up. He was not technologically savvy by any means (he still had trouble operating his smartphone), but he was knowledgeable enough to know that with the right expertise, he could get something out of this. He could make out the model: a white Ford E-150, a real clunky looking one that had to be a good thirty years old. He doubted many people still drove those, although New York City was home to millions of people. 'Not many' could potentially mean thousands.

"Thank you, Ferretti," Griggs said, looking back up at the other Detective. It was unusual to be thanking the man, yet he had come through and on his own accord. Griggs had not been expecting that.

"Just remember, any breakthrough you make, you let me know," Ferretti stated. "Now, if you excuse me, I have some criminals to catch." He practically slithered away from Griggs' desk, heading back for his own, sweat patches visible upon the yellow-tinted business shirt he wore. Waiting at Ferretti's desk was a box of doughnuts, as the Detective seemed content to eat such treats for breakfast. The thought made Griggs' stomach rumble, still reeling from the muesli he had forced down his throat before leaving home this morning.

First things first: Griggs had to get that license plate. Traffic cameras were not necessarily high definition, especially in the less affluent parts of town. Even so, he could perhaps make out the first two letters for this one: CX. A start, and it would help to narrow down the list. If the people who had broken in were professionals, then that van would be perfectly legal and therefore registered and insured. That would only make Griggs' job easier.

Any such investigation only needed a small foundation. One clue led to another and given time you would have a whole network of details and contacts as part of it. Griggs had some renewed confidence now, and he considered trying to call Sophie again. His last few attempts had failed, as the phone had simply gone straight to voicemail. Something was going on, and he could only hope it did not spell trouble for the woman.

"Brooklyn." A voice, familiar and gentle, broke into the gargoyle's thoughts. "Hey, Brooklyn, wake up."

Asleep. He was asleep, and he came to abruptly, finding himself drawn out of what had been an enjoyable dream involving a certain beautiful woman. Sitting up in the chair, he found himself face-to-face with that very woman in the real world, except in this instance she was wearing her usual outfit. In his dream, she had been wearing far less.

They were in the motel, and it was morning. Late morning, Brooklyn realised, his eyes flitting over to the clock on the wall behind Sophie. He had somehow fallen asleep with his head on the table, resting in the cheap chair that audibly creaked as he moved his weight within it. Human furniture was not often designed with gargoyle bulk in mind, even less so for the cheap items that were within the modest motel room. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds over the window at the front, and Brooklyn's eyes took a moment to adjust. He had been awake for so long, gliding over the city. He was not used to spending so much time awake, and it had evidently taken its toll on his overall energy level. Sometimes he wondered how humans could do it, being awake for twenty-four hours or more. In Sophie's case, she had fuelled her night shifts with the NYPD with a significant amount of coffee and energy drinks.

"Sweet dreams?" Sophie remarked, looking down at him with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah." Brooklyn nodded his head, feeling a little sheepish at the thought of them. He ran a clawed hand through his flowing mane of white hair, still unable to quite get over how unusual it felt to be sleeping normally. It seemed that with the pendant on, he could sleep like any human could. However, he would not benefit from the regenerative properties that stone-sleep provided. That was not a problem at this stage, as he had not been injured recently. That in itself was surprising, when he considered the kind of craziness he had been involved with the past few days. How many people had shot at him so far? How many of those bullets had only just missed him? He had taken a couple at Goliath's home, but his stone-sleep had healed the bulk of those wounds. This thought only made him far more concerned about Sophie, who did not have the luxury of stone-sleep and the healing factor it brought.

"You practically passed out last night," Sophie said. She put a bowl in front of him, and Brooklyn saw it was full of cereal and milk. It was one of those colourful, sugary cereals that he knew Broadway enjoyed. Brooklyn had usually opted for a healthier option to start the day (or night, as it had been for him until recently). Sophie, on the other hand, seemed more than happy to indulge her sweet-tooth first thing in the morning.

"I lost track of time." Brooklyn took the spoon she gave him and started eating. "I forgot I'd been awake for a lot longer than usual."

"You're not used to it, are you?" Insightful as ever, it seemed. She sat down in the chair across from him. "Sleeping normally, that is."

"Maybe. I mean, you're probably right. I sort of wore myself out."

"I know the feeling. My night-shifts would take a lot out of me some days." She shrugged, before meeting his eyes. Her demeanour appeared to change then, adopting one a little more dour. The way she frowned suggested that her mind had moved onto less light-hearted matters. "No luck, of course. All last night. No luck whatsoever. Trying to find any one person in a city like Miami is a lot harder than Xanatos makes it sound."

"Dingo will turn up," Brooklyn said, and he believed this. His experiences with similar things in the past had told him as much, and in this case, Dingo would have to raise his head eventually. Perhaps not in Miami, but he would turn up, sooner or later.

"Xanatos should have seen it coming."

"Yeah, well, he likes to think he's smarter than everyone, but really he's as human as the rest of us." Brooklyn paused, quickly realising that this statement did not make much sense in his case. "That is, as flawed as the rest of us. Unless this is all just part of some scheme of his. I wouldn't put it past him. No matter what happens, you need to know that Xanatos is always working some kind of angle. He always has some way out of things, that even if it looks like he's failed he'll have a way of coming out on top."

"He can't be trusted? But I thought you said he's helped you and your clan?"

"And he did. But people don't change as much as you might think they do, Sophie. The man's obsessed with getting back at the Illuminati. You yourself said as much. Revenge is a powerful motivator, even for a man like Xanatos who would have you believe he sees himself above that kind of thing."

"Who can we trust then, Brooklyn? Aside from each other?" A very good question, and they both knew it. Here they were, suspended from their jobs and thrust into an increasingly volatile situation wherein Xanatos had them working for him, more or less. God only knew what was in that metal case, and as far as Brooklyn could tell, God sure was not telling.

"I'm saying we have to be careful," Brooklyn said, even though he knew it sounded feeble. "If staying with Xanatos means getting that case, then that's what we'll do. But when it comes to handing it over to Xanatos, we might want to reconsider."

"So, you're saying we do what Dingo did and take it for ourselves?" Sophie cocked an eyebrow, her opinion on this suggestion one of serious doubt. "If the Illuminati want it, then we could be bringing them down right on top of us. Along with all those other people who want it, whoever they are. If it's some sort of powerful weapon or mystical item, think of how many people in the world would kill to have it in their possession? We're talking governments the world over, criminal organizations, corporations; just about every kind of bad guy in the world would want a piece of it. And we still don't even know what's in it."

"We just know we have to keep it out of the wrong hands."

"And Xanatos would fall into that category?"

Brooklyn shook his head, unable to help but sigh. His head was beginning to hurt just from contemplating this craziness.

"He could. But I just don't know. The important thing is, we need to find Goliath and Vincent. If this case is what we need to do it, then we'll do it. We just might do it for ourselves, if you catch my drift." Judging from the nod she gave, Sophie most definitely caught his drift. They were going to pull a double-cross, just perhaps without the body-count Dingo's own had created. The thought made Brooklyn uneasy, and he could see it affected Sophie in much the same way. However, he could see no alternative. They were here, caught up in the mess; it only made sense to get what they needed and pull out as soon as possible.

Maybe Xanatos really did have good intentions at heart? Still, Brooklyn could not shake the feeling that maybe the man had his own agenda at play? History made this much clear, as nothing Xanatos did, however benevolent it seemed, was without his own agenda in mind. There was so much uncertainty about it all, enough to make Brooklyn want to start ripping his hair out. Here and now, he was essentially plotting with Sophie to pull the rug out from Xanatos' plans, whatever they might have been. That meant that he could essentially add his own agenda into the mix, on top of all the other parties making a go for a piece of the action.

There was a knock on the door then. Both he and Sophie turned to the door, quickly exchanging awkward glances.

"Come in?" Sophie announced, sounding a little unsure of the request. The door swung open, revealing both Xanatos and Owen. They made their way inside, with Owen closing the door and locking it. For added privacy, no doubt. Xanatos had his laptop resting on his lap, as one might expect. He was all smiles as he wheeled himself over, the electric motor on his wheelchair making a quiet humming noise as it moved.

"Good morning," he said, strangely chipper. "I hope we're rested well?"

"As well as can be." Sophie narrowed her eyes, watching Xanatos carefully as he stopped at the table and placed the small laptop upon it. "Just how well do you expect us to rest after we almost got killed the day before?"

"Don't be so sour about it, Detective." Xanatos flipped up the screen of the computer, before he tapped in a few commands. "Setbacks occur even in the most well-planned operations. The key is in being able to adapt, to think on the fly. Improvisation can prove just as effective, if not more so, than even the best-laid plan. Unpredictability will make even the toughest of foes uncertain."

"Right." Sophie remained unconvinced. "You know, you would make a killing as a motivational speaker."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Xanatos replied. "That is, in case I decide on a career change."

"So, 'paranoid recluse' is a career now?"

Xanatos gave the faintest trace of a frown when he heard this remark, but it was gone in an instant. He was not the kind of man to take offense easily. Owen stood behind him, always ready to attend his master. Brooklyn had originally found the man's loyalty and seeming willingness to do Xanatos' bidding a little unnerving; of course, it had made more sense once he had found out Owen's true nature. Xanatos had made the right choice, in accepting the fae's offer of a lifetime of service. Who would not want a loyal, magically inclined manservant around to do their bidding?

"What do you have for us?" Brooklyn asked. He had to assume that Xanatos had found out something, as why else would he be here? Coming by simply for a leisurely chat over breakfast was unlikely, especially in the current circumstances.

"Something we may be able to take advantage of," Xanatos declared. "We're still working on tracking Dingo. Owen here has been trying to whip something together that might assist in finding the case, but he's bound within a certain set of rules that make anything even remotely magical very tricky to pull off. On that note, I've put out feelers of my own. A few contacts of mine in the CIA and NSA owe me favours, and with enough money thrown their way they'll keep quiet about my whereabouts."

"You can trust those people?"

"Not entirely. I'm using proxies to communicate with them. Voice filters, encrypted phones, dead drops. All that exciting espionage stuff. It's been a while since I got really involved in it and I'd forgotten how thrilling it could be."

"And no news?" Brooklyn leaned forwards a little, curious. Xanatos shook his head, some small measure of disappointment dancing over his features.

"Unfortunately, no. Not where Dingo and Jane are concerned. However, I did find out something else. For one, there was a shooting on the edge of town late last night. A few Chinese nationals were shot dead in an old drive-in. The police are considering it gangland related, but I believe that Dingo may have been involved. No doubt trying to profit off of the case, give himself a healthy retirement fund."

"He was selling it?"

"To the Chinese, it appears. Now, I don't know about you, but there is something vaguely ironic to be found in our one Australian friend selling out to China." He smirked then, even if his joke seemed to have been lost on Brooklyn. "From the look of it, the exchange went bad. Where Dingo and Jane are now, I don't know. They would have gone to ground and will, if money is their objective, try and set up another buyer."

"Did you ever consider giving Dingo a pay-rise?" This question came from Sophie. She spoke it half-jokingly, with the more serious edge making it clear that yes, Xanatos really should have thrown more money at the man.

"I paid him a nominal fee. Just as I will you and Brooklyn, plus additional for however much more work it takes to retrieve the case. I don't intend on simply using the two of you and throwing you aside. I'm an honest man, I pay my debts."

Brooklyn felt like making a remark to the opposite effect but decided against it. No use antagonising Xanatos, not when he was still some help. The promise of money had piqued Sophie's interest, and her usual scepticism had seemingly evaporated. A suspended Detective facing the prospect of unemployment (and no pension) would have needed some funds, and soon. Brooklyn did not blame her, living in New York City was not exactly cheap. And if a chunk of money made her life better, than he was all for it.

"As you know, I used to be in the Illuminati," Xanatos continued. "I made a few contacts of my own within that organization. Now, they went and cut contact with me as soon as I disavowed my membership, but it just so happens that one of those people is here in Miami. For what reason, I cannot determine. It likely has to do with the case we're after, as his being here is no mere coincidence."

"He can help us?" Brooklyn could see the possibilities already. A current Illuminati member, right within their grasp. Who knew what secrets that individual could tell them? Of course, they were not likely to part with those secrets easily.

"There is no doubt in my mind that he will be able to help us," Xanatos said, nodding eagerly. He was thinking very much along the same lines as Brooklyn was. "We get him, and we can potentially use him as a means to find Goliath and Vincent. Not to mention, we use him to find the case. The Illuminati have a sophisticated information network. If they haven't found the case yet themselves, they will sooner or later."

"Is this a good idea?" Sophie cocked an eyebrow, the plan sound in her mind but still bearing with it a great deal of doubt. "I mean, isn't this guy going to have protection? A small army of bodyguards? Because the last Illuminati guy I met had just that. Josiah Lockwood, that is."

"Lockwood is a big businessman on top of being a member of the Illuminati," Xanatos said. "He would have an army of bodyguards regardless. Now, this man I'm talking about, he's purely an Illuminati footman these days. Martin Hacker is his name, he used to be a Federal agent. Retired now, but still doing work for his other employers. I suspect he was sent here to help oversee the exchange with the case, before we threw a spanner in that works."

"You know where he is?" Brooklyn could go along with this plan. It was certainly better than the wild goose chase he had carried out last night.

"I have a good idea."

"Hold on." Sophie raised a hand, her doubts having returned in full force, it seemed. "I mean, sure, let's go meet the Illuminati guy, why not? But what's the plan? Are we just going to talk to him? Will we just walk up to him in the street and say, 'Why, excuse me, but I hear you work for a secret society hellbent on subverting the entire world. Would you mind pointing us in the direction of the following: a magical box, a large grey gargoyle and, lastly, that gargoyle's half-human son'?"

Xanatos showed the smallest hint of a smile. Whether that was for Sophie's remarks or what he planned for Martin Hacker, neither she nor Brooklyn could be sure.

"Well, we can't just ask him outright. First, we need to secure him."

"You mean abduct him?" Sophie rubbed her forehead with one palm then, shaking her head. "Just another crime to add to my rap-sheet, I suppose."

"So, we abduct him." Brooklyn saw no other choice in the matter. "Then what? We interrogate him? Torture him, even? Because I won't have any part in that." He shook his head. "I don't do torture."

"Don't be so extreme, Brooklyn. Torture is ineffective, and just like you I would never do it myself. People will say anything to make the pain end, and that means they will tell you whatever you want to hear regardless of whether it's actually true. There are other ways to get information from the unwilling. All I need you and Sophie to do is get the guy. Bring him to the rendezvous alive and well, obviously."

"Obviously," Brooklyn remarked. "What's wrong? You think I'm planning on killing the guy?"

"No, not at all. I'm just telling you to be careful. You're a gargoyle, you could easily crush the man's windpipe with your bare hands."

"I'm well aware of my own strength." Brooklyn felt a little offended by the implication, but he otherwise let the matter rest. He went out of his way to try to avoid killing his enemies, even if circumstances sometimes made that impossible. He had that luxury, granted by the mobility his wings provided and the strength that came with being a gargoyle. Sophie, on the other hand, had to engage their enemies on much more even ground. If the violence was getting to her in any way, she did not show it. In fact, she seemed positively normal. Was that a good or bad thing? Brooklyn would have to ask her about it some time, make sure she was all right.

"And I'm sure you and Sophie can handle it," Xanatos said, his tone imbued with confidence. "You two have handled yourselves well so far, despite all the unforeseen circumstances that have been thrown your way. Keep it up and we could take down the Illuminati completely, I'm sure of it."

"How would you do that, anyway? An organization like that has concealed itself for centuries. Taking them down would be no easy feat." Sophie was curious, and she and Brooklyn could see right away that Xanatos had given it some considerable thought.

"That is exactly the point, Detective. The Illuminati relies on secrecy and deception. The one thing they fear most is complete and open exposure, the kind that cannot be refuted or buried under the sea of misinformation that they themselves create. I don't care how long it takes, but I will expose them to the world. And it will be undeniable exposure. People will be forced to wake up, and the whole world will change, just like that." He snapped his fingers then for emphasis, eyes beaming with the prospect. It was the look of a man certain of the purity of his intentions, the look of a man obsessed. Sure, it sounded noble, if very difficult to pull off and Brooklyn was all for it. Even so, Xanatos may have become a little too embroiled in his dream of destroying the Illuminati, and Brooklyn could only wonder what that kind of obsession had done to the man's psyche.