Retribution, Part II

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: Rating and disclaimer info in part one.

Chapter Summary: Which plan were we using again… and how many are there, anyway?  As always, reviews are welcome.

"MacAvoy!  Genesee!  Get your asses in here!"

The captain's voice bellowing through the bullpen made several of his officers jump.  He was obviously not in a happy mood.  The two detectives made their way to the captain's office. 

"Sit!"

Glancing at each other, the partners did as Captain DiMenna demanded. 

"Tell me that you've found something," he said.  "I'd settle for fingerprints on a note, a hazy outline seen by a neighbor in the fog.  Just give me something!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Genesee said.  "We don't have anything.  The scene was wiped clean as far as prints go, and while there is a large amount of DNA evidence, we don't have any suspects to match it against.  If there are any witnesses, they aren't talking."

"She was my partner's kid, Genesee.  I want her killer found.  So does the President… so does the First Lady, and to be rather blunt, I'm not sure who frightens me more.  Find him, gentlemen.  I want the bastard who killed Deena Young – so does the Secret Service.  MacAvoy."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Keep in touch with the FBI and Service profilers.  If we screw this up, they won't hesitate to step in.  Deena and Charlie were practically part of the First Family already, and they've closed ranks since Deena's murder.  All of them are pissed, from the President down to the gardeners and the IT staff.  On top of everything else, they do have access to tools that we as a department can't afford.  Use them.  Solve this.  That goes for both of you.  Dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir."

MacAvoy headed back to his desk to begin the series of phone calls that would connect him to the profilers, sighing as he once again wished he hadn't taken that night off.  This would have so much easier if he'd been part of the actual crime-scene crew.  He'd been out of town, and Genesee – who had also taken the night off – had been paged to come in and handle it.  And then Mac had asked to switch to day shift when it became clear that this was a hate crime… he hated working those.  The shift change didn't last long, though.  Day shift didn't suit him.

"Hey, buddy," his partner's voice called out from behind him, "what's going through your mind?"

"I was just thinking, Bobby," he said, "that I was glad to be off that afternoon swing shift and back on my regular beat."

"You and me both, pal.  I'm glad you decided that the day shift didn't really work for you."

"Guess I'm always gonna be a goof-off night owl at heart, huh, partner?"

"You bet.  Now, where were we on this case?  We'd better find something before we have the Secret Service breathing down our necks."

"Too late for that, Bobby.  They've been glaring for the past two weeks.  I had the misfortune to have a little chat with the Security Chief – one Ron Butterfield – a couple days ago, when you were off.  The man is odd."

"Odd how, Mac?"

MacAvoy paused for a second, mind searching for right phrase to describe President Bartlet's AIC.  "His gaze was… penetrating.  Like he knew everything I'd ever done wrong in my life and had a direct line to God, who had just decided to grant him judge, jury and executioner rights.  If he weren't on our side…  Well, let's just say this is one man I'd never want to meet if I didn't have my sidearm."

"I've never met him, Mac, but from what I hear about the Service, that's not too surprising.  Ready to get to work?"

"Absolutely, Bobby.  The sooner we find the guy that did this, the sooner I get Butterfield's eyes off the back of my neck."

"Always willing to help my partner, Mac."  Hope you aren't counting on solving this anytime soon, buddy.  If Mac saw the smile on his partner's face, he simply thought it was an attempt to lighten the mood.

Day 17

Charlie knocked on the door of the Oval Office and then opened it, knowing that the President was by himself and expecting this visitor.  "Admiral Fitzwallace to see you, sir."

"Send him in, Charlie."

Fitz entered the room, and Charlie closed the door behind the older man, leaving the two to their discussion. 

"What's the word, Percy?"

"Officially, the investigation into Shareef's death is still open, but the Qumari are letting it die off a bit.  They're tired of not finding anything convincing."

"You could have told me that over the phone, Fitz.  You could have told Leo that over the phone.  Spill."

"The plan's in motion, sir.  I finished coordinating with Ron this morning.  If he leaves the Residence now, Service can't officially do anything, although Ron has a rotation up for off-duty agents to keep an eye on him.  Corporal Simons will be standing in for Charlie at his apartment."

"He looks enough like Charlie to make this work?"

"From a distance, Mr. President.  If the UNSUB looks close enough, he'll be able to tell that Simons isn't Charlie… but from a distance, it should work.  Simons mentioned in passing that it feels odd to be in `civvies' while he's working, but since he gets to keep the suits, he won't mind too much."

"I'm so glad to know that he won't mind following an order."  The President dismissed the passing sarcasm by way of a slight smile. 

"Not a word to Charlie, Fitz.  He wouldn't approve of anyone risking his life to get this sick SOB… even if he seems more than willing to paint a target on his own back."

"Understood, sir."

TBC…