Chapter 4
"What do you have for me?" Maria asked without preamble as she walked into the morgue.
"More weird shit," Miguel answered with uncharacteristic bluntness and obvious irritation. "This weirder than most..."
"Oh, come on, Miguel. You love challenges. So what crawled up your--"
"Bureau's asking questions. Lots of them."
"About Brandon?"
"Him and others who may have similar causes of death, yeah."
She cursed softly.
"So, who had this month in the pool for them finally wising up?"
"Mitch, I think..." She shook her head faintly. "Doesn't matter. What did you tell them?"
"I told them the truth. It looks like he was beaten to death with a sledge-hammer and I haven't seen anything similar in a few years." Miguel shrugged, his expression innocent.
"You're not playing ball," she whispered, startled. "Miguel, these are the Feds. Why would you lie to them?"
He shrugged again. "Honestly? Because the Feds in question spooked me more than a little." He shook his head. "I don't know, Maria. Why haven't you or Vic or Mitch or any of the other Detectives who've noticed this trend gone to them?"
"That's different. They wouldn't have believed us. You of all people know that."
"Yeah." He nodded faintly. "I know. That's why I'm a little leery of these guys. They walked in here asking all the right questions..."
She frowned. If they knew all the questions, they were already a step ahead of Maria and the other police officers who had started to notice the disturbing new trend in homicides and unexplained deaths. Normal, law-abiding citizens were behaving in decidedly abnormal, and criminal, ways. And then they were dropping dead with no clear cause of death.
"So what do you have on Brandon?"
"First off, that someone had a very personal grudge against the man. Even if he'd lived, he'd have been a soprano for the rest of his life at the very least. He was beaten to a pulp. I mean, like I said, it looks like he was beaten with a sledge-hammer. The man's bones weren't broken or shattered, they were turned to dust. Internal organs were ruptured..."
Maria, who had born witness to the brutal beating, was still startled by the strength it must have taken to cause so much damage.
Miguel shook his head and continued. "Problem is that none of those injuries were the cause of death. Hell, half of them were already starting to heal by the time he died."
"How the hell does a man survive something like that?" she whispered.
"I think the real question is how anyone with what it takes to survive that turns around and drops dead for no good reason a few days later," he answered.
"And you are sure, and I mean absolutely positive that the man was not beat to death?" she asked quietly.
She had seen the beating Cole Hauser had given William Brandon. She could not really blame him under the circumstances, either. But that did not change the fact that a lot of dead bodies were tied back to him in some way or other. Still, she had heard him tell Mel that he had not killed the man, too. And Vic swore blind that Cole was no killer, even if he had tacitly allowed that he was related back to a lot of the unexplained deaths.
"I don't know how he survived that beating, but it's not what killed him, either," Miguel said, shrugging. "I mean, quite a few of our DB's have had broken bones and whatnot, but that's not the cause of death on any of them, either."
"And still no closer to finding out what did kill them?" she asked, sighing.
He shook his head apologetically. "Not for want of trying to find out, but I am still clueless, Maria. I'm sorry."
"You're the best, Miguel," she told him. "We can't fault you on this. God knows you've been trying your damnedest to figure this one out." She shook her head. "We'll crack it," she promised, patting his shoulder.
"Here's hoping," he sighed.
"We will," she assured him with more conviction than she felt. "Between the two of us and the others... we will crack this."
He nodded slightly, heartened by her assurance. "Look, I know I probably pulled you from an evening with Vic, but I didn't want to talk about this over the phone."
"Those federales breathing down your neck?" she asked, frowning.
He shrugged and nodded. "Nothing I can't handle."
"I don't like them harassing my favorite ME, Miguel. It gets out of hand, you let me know."
"Only if you promise not to assault any federal agents," he told her with a grin.
"You know me too well, Miguel," she informed him with a crooked grin. She glanced over his shoulder at the wall-clock. "Go home, Miguel. Try to forget it."
"Like I could if I tried. Thanks for the advice, though." He nodded, sighing and retrieving his coat. "Any ideas, Maria?"
"None yet. I'll let you know what I come up with, though," she promised, winking at him.
"Yeah, right. I know you too well, like you said." He shook his head. "You'll let me know when and if it suits you. Not before and not otherwise."
"Miguel..."
"It's okay, Maria. I understand." He smiled reassuringly. "Go home, woman," he advised gently.
"Home?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "Nah. I figured I'd go out and get hammered first."
He shook his head. "See you at Mass on Sunday."
"See you then. Give my love to the wife and kids."
"Will do." He grinned and nodded before shrugging on his coat and leaving the morgue.
Maria watched him go with a sigh, shaking her head and considering their discussion. She had almost hoped that the cause of death would be as straightforward as an angry boyfriend defending the woman he loved. Factoring that out of the equation left more questions than it answered. Questions about Cole's strength. Questions about how Brandon had survived a pummeling that should have killed him. Questions about what had happened to him after that. Questions about what was happening to these people at all to make them capable of such crimes...
"Too damned many questions," she muttered, shaking her head and leaving the morgue.
Not that questions or challenges bothered her, but she hated the feeling that she was deliberately being kept out of the loop. Clearly, something was going on. Just as clearly, Vic knew exactly what it was. Which begged a whole other set of questions, not the least of which was how Melanie Porter was involved in it all as she so obviously was.
Mel... Maria shook her head, trying to dispel the memory of the woman lying on a warehouse floor, glowing. There was no way she had seen that. It could not have happened. Humans did not glow. Certain funguses may have, but not humans. Radiation, maybe? There had been burns on some of the other victims that were not inconsistent with concentrated doses of radiation. But if that were the case, Mel should have been dead and Maria should have been suffering a nasty case of radiation poisoning of her own.
Just a trick of the lighting, she told herself firmly, and it was easy to make herself believe it. It was somewhat harder, though, to ignore the fact that the woman glowing on that warehouse floor had borne dozens of injuries, bruises and deep cuts, none of which had been in evidence two days later. That was somehow significant, she knew, although she was unsure why or how. Her mind knew the connection was there, it just refused to make the necessary leap to see it.
Deep in thought, she made her way automatically to the parking garage, not noticing that she was not alone there until someone quietly called her name. She jumped, reaching automatically under her jacket to where her pistol was holstered.
"It's okay, Detective," one of the men said, holding his hands away from his body. "I'm going for my badge now," he told her, slowly reaching into his pocket and extracting it.
He flashed it and started to put it away, but Maria caught it with one hand. The other remained poised to draw should the need present itself. She did not like being approached by strange men in dark parking garages. Mentally kicking herself for inattentiveness, she scanned the badge. FBI, Agent Sampson. It looked genuine, had all the right holograms in the right places. Which did not mean a damned thing and she knew it. Feds did not decide they wanted to talk to cops and then follow them into empty parking garages after hours.
She handed the badge back to Sampson, snapping her fingers at the other man. "Yours too, please."
He handed it to her, his expression amused.
"You have me at a disadvantage," she explained smoothly, aware that he was less amused than he looked. They were sizing her up. Her gut told her that if they had actually been Bureau, they would not have needed to do that, not when the FBI had been scouting her out for years now. "You know my name. I didn't know yours, Agent... Wilkes," she read, handing the badge back to him without further scrutinizing it. "Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?" she inquired, affecting a casual air that was not at all in keeping with her current feelings. Her fight-flight instincts were screaming at her to get out of the situation at all costs. Her Detective instincts wanted to stay and find out as much about these men as possible. Starting with what they wanted with her.
"You know this man?" Wilkes asked, producing a surveillance photo and handing it to her.
The plot thickens... "Yeah, I've seen him around. Cole something, I think..."
As if they did not know that she knew him. It was the oldest ploy in the book, getting to a wanted individual through a second or third party. Every RICO investigation ever conducted relied on it, finding a way into organized crime families through chinks in otherwise impenetrable armor.
She handed the picture back to him, affecting polite interest. "My former partner would know the name for sure. He used to date the woman your boy lives with," she offered, glancing at her watch. "Seems like a decent enough guy the few times I've seen him around the bar." She paused, then explained, "Oh, Melanie, his girlfriend, owns this little cop-bar. He helps her out down there sometimes."
"And this Mel used to date your former partner?"
Maria resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at the slip, using Mel's nickname before she herself had. They knew everything she was telling them, obviously, or they never would have come to her. She decided to keep talking, to see if she could get them talking.
"That's right. Vic and Melanie used to date. Lovely woman, very sweet. They parted amiably enough, still stay in touch..." She shrugged. "Why do you ask?"
"We're interested in this man she's living with."
She raised an eyebrow, not commenting on how obvious that was. "Is that so?"
"Yes. We have reason to believe that he's in this country illegally."
Maria felt her eyebrow making its way further towards her hairline. That was new. "Wouldn't that be INS territory?" she asked after a moment, keeping her voice steady.
"INS, ATF, CIA, FBI... A lot of people would like to get their hands on this man, Detective," Sampson said quietly. "You're an intelligent woman, you've seen the same crime trends the rest of us have. We think he's related to what's been happening to these people."
Not new information. She was back on terra firma for the time being, but still highly suspicious of these men and their motives. If their investigation had been legitimate, and what they claimed it was, they would have been able to come to her directly. Or, for that matter, to Vic, who could certainly be expected to be forthcoming if national security really was at stake. Whoever they may or may not have been, their investigation was under the table, that much was clear.
"Not that we have proof yet," Wilkes added, shaking his head.
"We were hoping we could pool our resources," Sampson told her. "We've been keeping as much of an eye on the situation as we can, but we're encountering some resistance to the idea of investigating the matter."
Maria nodded shortly. That jibed with her own efforts to dig deeper into what was really going on. Only a small handful of people had noticed the trends that had been worrying her and, until recently, Vic so much. Everyone else considered them paranoid and their investigations a waste of time. Johansen had made more than one X-Files jokes at her expense and Vic's just lately. Of course, he was so dense that he would not have noticed a crime-trend if it walked up and mugged him.
Still, for the time being, it was easier to keep things unofficial. Too many members of the force were old-school, only interested in the tangible, not vague theories of possible connections between unrelated men and women. People who had started to connect those dots and see the bigger picture found that they encountered less resistance and ridicule if they quietly put their heads together after hours.
So she or Vic or one of a handful of other Detectives might discreetly mention to Miguel or a sympathetic coroner's assistant that they would appreciate an extra-thorough autopsy in a given case. And Miguel would casually mention that to the others, along with the autopsy results, allowing them to effectively pool their information. And since there was nothing unusual in the sight of a group of cops with their heads together at the Watchfire on a Friday night, they would often compare notes that way.
While it was true that they were none the wiser as to what was causing otherwise normal people to turn to lives of crime and then mysteriously die, it had quickly become obvious that the scope of the case was far greater than any of them had suspected. Eventually, they would crack it. In the meantime, all they could do was pool their evidence and keep searching.
She glanced considering up at the two men. "So why come to me?" she asked quietly.
"Honestly, you weren't our first choice," Wilkes answered without hesitation. "But Doctor Ramirez was reluctant to cooperate."
"You could always ask for his reports through official channels," she pointed out mildly.
"Ultimately we will," Sampson assured her. "But right now we'd rather avoid the wrong kinds of notice. I hear they've taken to calling you Detective Scully at the precinct?"
"Not to my face," she answered with a grim smile. "And not more than once within my hearing, I can assure you."
"Mutual respect between law enforcement officials is important," Sampson continued. "It's very hard for an agent of the law to do his job without the respect of his peers."
"In other words, you don't want to stick your neck out until you have proof?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Maybe they were Bureau after all...
"Essentially, yes." Sampson nodded unrepentantly. "You've been investigating these trends for some time now, so you are the logical person to coordinate with. Discreetly, of course."
"So where's Cole Hauser come into play?" she asked, deciding that if there was information to be had from these men, there was information to be had. "Or does he at all? Was he just your opening to approach me?"
"We honestly aren't sure where he fits in, but we think he does. And he's not the only one. We don't have a picture, just a name..."
"Zin." Maria nodded faintly. "Yeah, constant thorn in our sides at the precinct, too," she agreed. "Very heavily into organized crime."
"Is work the only place this name is familiar from? Has Cole Hauser ever mentioned it? Or Mel Porter?"
Mel Porter, Mel's life. What had Lana called it? Zin's gift to Cole...
And a few days ago her biggest worry had been that Cole was merely indebted to Zin. But what if he really did work for the man? What if he switched sides out of gratitude? Or just looked the other way? And how would Vic react if Maria sold Cole out?
"Not as far as I can remember," she answered finally, pretending to search her mind. "I can keep my ears open, though."
"We would appreciate it."
"And what exactly should I be listening for?"
"Mentions of Zin, mainly. But anything out of the ordinary, really."
"Out of the ordinary?" she repeated. "Life in general is out of the ordinary these days, Agent," she pointed out mildly.
"More out of the ordinary than usual, then," Sampson told her, frowning slightly. The frown was quickly replaced by a smile. "Or related to the general trend of unusual happenings. You are an undeniably intelligent woman. I think we can trust to your sense of the matter."
"Not to sound too mercenary, but what's in it for me?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd dangle the enticement of acceptance into the Bureau, but you've rejected that offer more than once," he pointed out. "What do you want?"
"Other than peace on earth and an end to all crime and poverty?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and doing her best to conceal her intense dislike for these men. "I want what you want, Agents. To know what the hell is going down on my beat..." She shrugged. "Fair trade."
"Information for information, is that it?" Wilkes asked, nodding faintly. "It's a fair thing to ask, Sampson."
Oh, now they were playing good cop, bad cop with her? She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing in his face. These men were as on the up and up as Zin himself was. If they were that genuine. Still, if they had information... Vic was cutting her off, maybe it was time to look elsewhere for the answers she needed.
"Tell me what you know," she suggested. "And I'll think about it."
"Zin is not restricting his activities to Chicago, for one," Wilkes told her. "He's active in London and probably elsewhere as well..."
"That so?" she asked. "I guess he can officially add Interpol and MI-5 to his list of admirers..."
"You don't seem too surprised, Detective," Sampson said, frowning.
"I'm not, Agent," she answered flatly. "Zin is an ambitious man," she pointed out, not bothering to tell them that Cole had already told her as much about Zin's overseas dealings. "Why should he limit himself to Chicago?"
"People are dying, Detective," Wilkes pointed out. "I would think you, of all people, would take that more seriously."
"Dead serious, as far as I can see," she answered, shrugging. "But you're here asking me to eavesdrop on a man without any compelling incentive and, more importantly, without probable cause..."
"We aren't asking you to break any laws," Wilkes began in a mollifying tone.
"No, but you are asking me to skirt a very fine line," she pointed out. Worse, they were asking her to exploit her relationship with Vic to do it. That they were not saying so out loud did not change the fact. "Isn't 'integrity' something of a by-word with you lot? 'Fidelity, bravery, integrity', isn't that your catch-phrase at the Bureau?"
"These men are dangerous, you know that," Sampson muttered, shaking his head.
"Oh, I know that these men are dangerous. In the past two years, I've come to know these men very well indeed. Still, better the devil you know..." Shaking her head, she fished her keys from her pocket and turned towards her car.
"Do you have any idea what you're turning your back on?" Sampson demanded. "The scope of this thing? This isn't about law enforcement. It isn't about Homeland Security. We are talking about a global threat on a scope you can not begin to imagine!"
Maria paused, raising an eyebrow. It was the first word from his mouth that she believed to have been genuine.
"I have a very active imagination," she said softly, turning to face him. "Try me."
"You aren't cleared," Wilkes told her abruptly, glaring at Sampson.
"My clearance was Top Secret during the first gulf war," she informed him. "But you'd already know that, of course."
"You aren't cleared," he repeated firmly.
"No? Then I believe we're done here."
"Damn it, Wilkes," Sampson hissed. "We need her..."
"You do need me, don't you?" she asked, smiling faintly at him. "Now tell me why and I might consider helping you out."
"Whatever is going on with Zin's people, Cole Hauser is involved. If we could find out how..."
"Maybe he's one of the good guys like us?" she suggested.
"He is not like us." Sampson shook his head violently. "That much we do know. Or are, at least, we're pretty damned sure of it. But we can't get proof..."
Maria paused, intrigued. Whatever pre-established script they had come to her with, they were deviating from it in a big way. They were desperate.
"Proof of what?"
"Sampson..." Wilkes warned.
Sampson shook his head shortly. "Of the existence of extra-terrestrials, of the fact that they're living among us," he whispered.
Maria scoffed and shook her head. "You know, you almost had me there. Johansen send you?" she asked, turning towards her car again.
"Come with us," Sampson ordered, grabbing her arm.
"What?" she asked, turning and scowling at him.
"We have proof, footage of one of these people using super-human abilities..."
Wilkes shook his head, clearly disgusted.
"Who do you really work for?" she asked quietly, making no move to pull away.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Sampson answered. "Detective Cruz, there are individuals within the government who have noticed the same trends that you have and who are very worried about them. But Hauser's the wild-card. We don't know where, or how, he fits in. If you don't want to help us, why don't you think about this: that little boyfriend of yours is colluding with the Enemy!"
"You son of a--"
"Your cooperation might buy him leniency," Sampson continued quietly. "But if you don't cooperate, there is nothing between us and him when we conclude this investigation..."
Maria closed her eyes, bowing her head. "You're good. I'll give you that much, you son of a bitch. You are good..."
"I thought you might be convinced to see reason."
"Shut the hell up and tell me what you want me to do."
"Keep your ears open for any mention of Zin or aliens."
"What else?" she asked quietly.
"We have proof positive if you'll come with us."
"Like I have a choice," she sighed, nodding and gesturing for them to lead the way.
