Case 1: Sniper
Disclaimer: Same as before. I'm aware that Ninja Girl is a nickname Cdr. Rabb has for Lt.Col. Mackenzie on JAG, I figured it fit Ivy as well.
~ ~ ~ ~
6 May 2000: "The bullet was a 7.62 round. A common sniper round, that's the bad news." Josha said as he came out of the Crimelab.
"What's the good news?" Hal replied.
"Easy, the bullet type, according to our ballistics expert is a fairly well manufactured match grade 7.62 bullet. Those are fairly pricey and store owners might keep records." Josha said, "And even if he ordered them online...."
"That's assuming our killer's a he." Ivy interjected.
"Whoa, Ninja Girl, a bit presumptuous. I'm operating on the theory that our sniper's had some military expertise." Hal brought in, he'd come up with a nickname for Ivy not more than ten minutes ago.
"Well, Limey," Ivy said, coming up with a nickname that referred to 19th Century British sailors, "Some countries such as Israel do employ female snipers."
"True, but we've not had any sort of proof that our sniper's a female. Have you sniffed 'her' perfume at the site." Hal joked.
Ivy shot him a half hurt half-indignant look, "Watch it Limey or we'll have a full contact session in the gym."
Hal's eyebrows shot up, "A tad forward aren't we Ninja Girl."
"Watch it Limey." Ivy said.
"Uh, Hal is it? I'd be careful..." Zack whispered.
"Look, Ivy, I'm sorry about that. I'll try to avoid seeing innuendo and so forth in anything else I hear from now on." Hal replied.
"You're still gonna die." Ivy replied, this time half-joking, "Meet me in the gym at eight o'clock, bring pads and ice."
"A lot of ice." Zack replied, "Hey, Hal, you were a sniper, weren't you?"
"Yes I was." Hal replied, "Why?"
"Can't you kinda figure this guy out?" Zack asked.
"I could, mate, I could but I'd need several days to study his habits, camouflage patterns, and modus operendi." Hal replied, "So far, this victim shows he's arrogant, because he shot him at midday."
"Cruel." Ivy added, "He just shot him for no apparent reason."
"Wait, earlier you said that..." Hal replied.
"I'm still on that track, somewhat, but the more I think about it, I think your idea about random victims you mentioned on the drive back here has some merit." Ivy replied.
"He's also methodical." Zack said, "He obviously planned this ahead of time. See how he was able to slip away unnoticed."
"That's right. He had multiple possible hideouts that he could have fired from." Hal replied, "He's obviously ex-military or some sort of mercenary because of the skill he showed."
"He could be an Olympic marksman of some kind." Ivy said, "Not to discredit you military types."
"He could be, but I'm staying with the military theory because being a skilled marksman is only one part of sniping. You have to have a sort of 'primitive feel' for the countryside that a hunter must have either by birthright or by military training." Hal replied.
"Or he could be some wacko survivalist." Zack added, as the trio sat down in the cafeteria for dinner. Zack had a salad, Ivy had a vegetable burger where Hal had a cheeseburger and French fries as they sat down to eat.
"Let's not discount that." Ivy said.
"Right, but most survivalists tend to be reclusive, somewhat out of touch with reality, and tend to indulge in spree killings when they explode." Hal replied, "Our sniper was methodical, as if he knew when and where to strike."
"Can you two talk about anything else but work." Tatiana complained as she joined the trio.
"Hal, this Tatiana." Zack held his fiancé's hand and said, "You know Ivy hon, she's like that. And we know that those Brits are all business."
"Oh can it you tosser." Hal replied.
"Speak English please?" Tatiana asked.
They all started chuckling over the last comment, "I am speaking English. British English that is." Hal replied
"Well," Zack said, "I say old chap, can't you talk like the bloody colonial's whilst you're in their midst."
"Why sure, mate." Hal replied, with a grin at Zack's fake accent, "I hope you don't get any undercover job's in Britain, because the moment you open your mouth I can tell you're an imposter."
"If the missus lets him." Ivy said, sipping her soda, "You know how spouses are. I mean, future spouses."
"Already got the apron, ball and chain ready Tatiana." Hal replied.
"Yes I do." Tatiana said, "Well I've got some junior detectives to teach in five minutes, see you later honey. Nice meeting you Hal."
Tatiana and Zack kissed quickly and the trio sat at the table. "Oh my God." Maria, the elderly Mexican lady, an elegant mestiza in her late forties, the unofficial ACME moral officer said, "There's been another shooting."
"The death of nineteen year old Christian Powers was a tragic one indeed. The University of California, Berkeley, student was in San Francisco volunteering at a soup kitchen when he walked outside to smoke a cigarette. Friends and witnesses recall that he just stood still for a moment before toppling over dead. No shot was heard, but a single bullet wound through Powers' left temple and an exit injury at his lower jaw more than suggest that a sniper responsible for a similar attack was involved." The TV newscaster for ZNN said. At this, Hal abruptly left the room, leaving a third of a burger and some fries and a half-finished coke.
~ ~ ~ ~
Earlier: He had been hiding in the abandoned apartment across the street from the homeless shelter for nearly five hours after he had shot his first victim. The SVD was balanced between two cinder blocks and he lay face down on a comfortable old mattress and through a hole in the wall.
He found a likely target just then. Most of the potential candidates that he had for victims either stayed out for too short a time or weren't high profile enough to get the results he desired. He found target practice on homeless people in the city at night wasn't nearly as headline making as shooting a businessman at midday.
Finally he saw him. An idealistic kid, wearing a collared beige shirt and jeans, with a cigarette in his hands. Probably came from an upper middle class family, doing his bit to 'help out the bloody poor' and other such rubbish. Perfect, the boy leaned against a post, took a drag off his cigarette as his blonde girlfriend walked out to him. They argued a bit about something petty or unimportant.
"Hmm, I want the girl out of my sight picture, I want her to see her boyfriend's brains splattered across the pavement." The sniper grumbled. The girl seemed to comply with the request and he squeezed the trigger slowly, though there were ten rounds in the magazine, he found maximum terror was achieved by one and only one round fired per human skull. Again the rifle bucked with nay a sound save a thump and a casing hitting the concrete ground.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hal? Where are you?" Ivy asked as she walked into the now busy crime scene. Thanks to Tatiana who had spotted Hal storming out of the building towards his 1997 Land Rover Discovery.
"Over here." Hal said, he was interviewing a slim blonde woman. Her clear blue eyes were splotched red with tears, "Janice, where was he standing? Please, this important."
"H-he w-w-was standing like this." Janice said, standing, leaning against the post.
"Thanks," Hal said, as he tapped his left temple with his index finger of his left hand and then dropped to one knee, making a v shaped symbol with ring and index finger of his right hand, "That's where I'd be."
Hal indicated a cluster of five small, derelict flats that were ready for demolition, "About three hundred meters away, no problem for an experienced marksman. Plenty of hides, and evidence will be destroyed tomorrow when the wrecking ball goes through."
"Pretty slick, but how are WE planning on catching him." Ivy said, "You've got a lot of explaining to do."
"Yes, about my behavior earlier." Hal said as they walked next to his Land Rover, "I can just see the media splattering the name sniper with more garbage. My old profession as a Royal Marine reduced to that of a common murderer by this scum."
"Hal, talk to me. I'm your partner, and hopefully a friend." Ivy said.
"It was in Northern Ireland, in 1988 where I learned a sniper's power, absolute power, over life and death." Hal replied, "This man is sick, obviously."
"I don't disagree." Ivy said, "But you've got to work with me and quit going off on your own like that."
"Right." Hal replied, "I'll try to do better on that. I just had to follow up on a hunch I just had. He seems to have a chronic hatred for people above him on the status quo."
"His first victim was a corporate lawyer." Ivy said.
"And this one was some sort of graduate student whose studies were done in business administration. His parents are one of San Francisco's more affluent middle class families." Hal added, "This bloke's got something against the 'haves' of society."
"You're not a Marxist, are you Hal?" Ivy asked, "That sounds slightly like something Lenin would say."
"It does, but I'm guessing he resents those of the upper classes of society for something that he lost." Hal replied, "Or there's a personal vendetta. I only hope we can solve this case before the body count gets higher."
~ ~ ~ ~
Hal threw a couple more jabs and then slipped sideways and hooked the leather punching bag with a gloved fist. He circled about and gave the bag another jab, cross, hook, jab combo. He was wearing one of his standard issue brown t-shirts with black jogging pants and sneakers.
"Frustrating, isn't it?" came a female voice behind him.
Hal turned around to find Ivy standing behind him wearing blue shorts and a small yellow t-shirt, "Allow me."
Ivy held the bag while Hal punched away at it with several more combos, adding a particularly vicious underhanded hook and cross combo to boot. "What happened in Northern Ireland?"
"A gunman from the IRA was responsible for the deaths of half a dozen British soldiers and policemen. For six days our sniper units tracked him through the South Armagh cuds. Finally I sighted a man carrying a telescopic rifle setting it up in a hedgerow. My spotter called the battalion HQ and we were authorized to fire. I fired only one bullet and I knew exactly where it landed. For that whole time I stalked him, I wasn't merely the hand of God, I was God. I had absolute control when and where he would die and I exercised that power that day." Hal replied with a stone cold expression, conveying nothing, as he walked out of the room, "I know something of what our man must think and feel."
~ ~ ~ ~
Hal was getting changed in the locker room when his cell phone rang. A garbled voice with a German/Dutch accent said, "That was number two. I have exacted my vengeance for the day. Can you predict when I'll strike? I lurk nearby, teacher, but you won't know it. I changed my appearance since we last saw each other..."
The voice hung up before any trace could be garnered. Hal felt nothing more than an acid dread welling up inside his veins as he walked into his Land Rover and drove back to his apartment.
~ ~ ~ ~
TBC
Disclaimer: Same as before. I'm aware that Ninja Girl is a nickname Cdr. Rabb has for Lt.Col. Mackenzie on JAG, I figured it fit Ivy as well.
~ ~ ~ ~
6 May 2000: "The bullet was a 7.62 round. A common sniper round, that's the bad news." Josha said as he came out of the Crimelab.
"What's the good news?" Hal replied.
"Easy, the bullet type, according to our ballistics expert is a fairly well manufactured match grade 7.62 bullet. Those are fairly pricey and store owners might keep records." Josha said, "And even if he ordered them online...."
"That's assuming our killer's a he." Ivy interjected.
"Whoa, Ninja Girl, a bit presumptuous. I'm operating on the theory that our sniper's had some military expertise." Hal brought in, he'd come up with a nickname for Ivy not more than ten minutes ago.
"Well, Limey," Ivy said, coming up with a nickname that referred to 19th Century British sailors, "Some countries such as Israel do employ female snipers."
"True, but we've not had any sort of proof that our sniper's a female. Have you sniffed 'her' perfume at the site." Hal joked.
Ivy shot him a half hurt half-indignant look, "Watch it Limey or we'll have a full contact session in the gym."
Hal's eyebrows shot up, "A tad forward aren't we Ninja Girl."
"Watch it Limey." Ivy said.
"Uh, Hal is it? I'd be careful..." Zack whispered.
"Look, Ivy, I'm sorry about that. I'll try to avoid seeing innuendo and so forth in anything else I hear from now on." Hal replied.
"You're still gonna die." Ivy replied, this time half-joking, "Meet me in the gym at eight o'clock, bring pads and ice."
"A lot of ice." Zack replied, "Hey, Hal, you were a sniper, weren't you?"
"Yes I was." Hal replied, "Why?"
"Can't you kinda figure this guy out?" Zack asked.
"I could, mate, I could but I'd need several days to study his habits, camouflage patterns, and modus operendi." Hal replied, "So far, this victim shows he's arrogant, because he shot him at midday."
"Cruel." Ivy added, "He just shot him for no apparent reason."
"Wait, earlier you said that..." Hal replied.
"I'm still on that track, somewhat, but the more I think about it, I think your idea about random victims you mentioned on the drive back here has some merit." Ivy replied.
"He's also methodical." Zack said, "He obviously planned this ahead of time. See how he was able to slip away unnoticed."
"That's right. He had multiple possible hideouts that he could have fired from." Hal replied, "He's obviously ex-military or some sort of mercenary because of the skill he showed."
"He could be an Olympic marksman of some kind." Ivy said, "Not to discredit you military types."
"He could be, but I'm staying with the military theory because being a skilled marksman is only one part of sniping. You have to have a sort of 'primitive feel' for the countryside that a hunter must have either by birthright or by military training." Hal replied.
"Or he could be some wacko survivalist." Zack added, as the trio sat down in the cafeteria for dinner. Zack had a salad, Ivy had a vegetable burger where Hal had a cheeseburger and French fries as they sat down to eat.
"Let's not discount that." Ivy said.
"Right, but most survivalists tend to be reclusive, somewhat out of touch with reality, and tend to indulge in spree killings when they explode." Hal replied, "Our sniper was methodical, as if he knew when and where to strike."
"Can you two talk about anything else but work." Tatiana complained as she joined the trio.
"Hal, this Tatiana." Zack held his fiancé's hand and said, "You know Ivy hon, she's like that. And we know that those Brits are all business."
"Oh can it you tosser." Hal replied.
"Speak English please?" Tatiana asked.
They all started chuckling over the last comment, "I am speaking English. British English that is." Hal replied
"Well," Zack said, "I say old chap, can't you talk like the bloody colonial's whilst you're in their midst."
"Why sure, mate." Hal replied, with a grin at Zack's fake accent, "I hope you don't get any undercover job's in Britain, because the moment you open your mouth I can tell you're an imposter."
"If the missus lets him." Ivy said, sipping her soda, "You know how spouses are. I mean, future spouses."
"Already got the apron, ball and chain ready Tatiana." Hal replied.
"Yes I do." Tatiana said, "Well I've got some junior detectives to teach in five minutes, see you later honey. Nice meeting you Hal."
Tatiana and Zack kissed quickly and the trio sat at the table. "Oh my God." Maria, the elderly Mexican lady, an elegant mestiza in her late forties, the unofficial ACME moral officer said, "There's been another shooting."
"The death of nineteen year old Christian Powers was a tragic one indeed. The University of California, Berkeley, student was in San Francisco volunteering at a soup kitchen when he walked outside to smoke a cigarette. Friends and witnesses recall that he just stood still for a moment before toppling over dead. No shot was heard, but a single bullet wound through Powers' left temple and an exit injury at his lower jaw more than suggest that a sniper responsible for a similar attack was involved." The TV newscaster for ZNN said. At this, Hal abruptly left the room, leaving a third of a burger and some fries and a half-finished coke.
~ ~ ~ ~
Earlier: He had been hiding in the abandoned apartment across the street from the homeless shelter for nearly five hours after he had shot his first victim. The SVD was balanced between two cinder blocks and he lay face down on a comfortable old mattress and through a hole in the wall.
He found a likely target just then. Most of the potential candidates that he had for victims either stayed out for too short a time or weren't high profile enough to get the results he desired. He found target practice on homeless people in the city at night wasn't nearly as headline making as shooting a businessman at midday.
Finally he saw him. An idealistic kid, wearing a collared beige shirt and jeans, with a cigarette in his hands. Probably came from an upper middle class family, doing his bit to 'help out the bloody poor' and other such rubbish. Perfect, the boy leaned against a post, took a drag off his cigarette as his blonde girlfriend walked out to him. They argued a bit about something petty or unimportant.
"Hmm, I want the girl out of my sight picture, I want her to see her boyfriend's brains splattered across the pavement." The sniper grumbled. The girl seemed to comply with the request and he squeezed the trigger slowly, though there were ten rounds in the magazine, he found maximum terror was achieved by one and only one round fired per human skull. Again the rifle bucked with nay a sound save a thump and a casing hitting the concrete ground.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Hal? Where are you?" Ivy asked as she walked into the now busy crime scene. Thanks to Tatiana who had spotted Hal storming out of the building towards his 1997 Land Rover Discovery.
"Over here." Hal said, he was interviewing a slim blonde woman. Her clear blue eyes were splotched red with tears, "Janice, where was he standing? Please, this important."
"H-he w-w-was standing like this." Janice said, standing, leaning against the post.
"Thanks," Hal said, as he tapped his left temple with his index finger of his left hand and then dropped to one knee, making a v shaped symbol with ring and index finger of his right hand, "That's where I'd be."
Hal indicated a cluster of five small, derelict flats that were ready for demolition, "About three hundred meters away, no problem for an experienced marksman. Plenty of hides, and evidence will be destroyed tomorrow when the wrecking ball goes through."
"Pretty slick, but how are WE planning on catching him." Ivy said, "You've got a lot of explaining to do."
"Yes, about my behavior earlier." Hal said as they walked next to his Land Rover, "I can just see the media splattering the name sniper with more garbage. My old profession as a Royal Marine reduced to that of a common murderer by this scum."
"Hal, talk to me. I'm your partner, and hopefully a friend." Ivy said.
"It was in Northern Ireland, in 1988 where I learned a sniper's power, absolute power, over life and death." Hal replied, "This man is sick, obviously."
"I don't disagree." Ivy said, "But you've got to work with me and quit going off on your own like that."
"Right." Hal replied, "I'll try to do better on that. I just had to follow up on a hunch I just had. He seems to have a chronic hatred for people above him on the status quo."
"His first victim was a corporate lawyer." Ivy said.
"And this one was some sort of graduate student whose studies were done in business administration. His parents are one of San Francisco's more affluent middle class families." Hal added, "This bloke's got something against the 'haves' of society."
"You're not a Marxist, are you Hal?" Ivy asked, "That sounds slightly like something Lenin would say."
"It does, but I'm guessing he resents those of the upper classes of society for something that he lost." Hal replied, "Or there's a personal vendetta. I only hope we can solve this case before the body count gets higher."
~ ~ ~ ~
Hal threw a couple more jabs and then slipped sideways and hooked the leather punching bag with a gloved fist. He circled about and gave the bag another jab, cross, hook, jab combo. He was wearing one of his standard issue brown t-shirts with black jogging pants and sneakers.
"Frustrating, isn't it?" came a female voice behind him.
Hal turned around to find Ivy standing behind him wearing blue shorts and a small yellow t-shirt, "Allow me."
Ivy held the bag while Hal punched away at it with several more combos, adding a particularly vicious underhanded hook and cross combo to boot. "What happened in Northern Ireland?"
"A gunman from the IRA was responsible for the deaths of half a dozen British soldiers and policemen. For six days our sniper units tracked him through the South Armagh cuds. Finally I sighted a man carrying a telescopic rifle setting it up in a hedgerow. My spotter called the battalion HQ and we were authorized to fire. I fired only one bullet and I knew exactly where it landed. For that whole time I stalked him, I wasn't merely the hand of God, I was God. I had absolute control when and where he would die and I exercised that power that day." Hal replied with a stone cold expression, conveying nothing, as he walked out of the room, "I know something of what our man must think and feel."
~ ~ ~ ~
Hal was getting changed in the locker room when his cell phone rang. A garbled voice with a German/Dutch accent said, "That was number two. I have exacted my vengeance for the day. Can you predict when I'll strike? I lurk nearby, teacher, but you won't know it. I changed my appearance since we last saw each other..."
The voice hung up before any trace could be garnered. Hal felt nothing more than an acid dread welling up inside his veins as he walked into his Land Rover and drove back to his apartment.
~ ~ ~ ~
TBC