Title: Cat and Mouse
Author: Jayde
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language.
Summary: Angst, drama, violence. (Do I write anything else?) I have nothing against Law Enforcement professionals. They have a job to do. Sometimes human curiosity is a good thing, and sometimes it isn't.
Credits: Thanks to Sassy for the beta read.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything, except Samantha, her partner Eric, and her NY Cop friend Dan. And even them, I'm perfectly willing to share.
Author's Notes: Thanks go Sassy, Kristy99, pacphys, and BubblyShell for the reviews. I hope I'm updating quickly enough for everyone.
Chapter 3:
"Cops are stupid," Raphael snarled, storming into Don's workspace, and slamming a stool aside. Normally, Raph didn't like it in here. The steady hum of machines irritated him in a way. The sound got under his shell.
Don set his keyboard down, and sat up straight. "Do you mind – I don't want my equipment destroyed just now."
"They're going to miss him again," Raphael raged, slamming his fists onto the worktable. Don's tools jumped, and clattered down, some of them spilling onto the floor. Leo stuck his head in the door, alarmed.
"What the …" Leo began, his eyes wide with surprise behind his mask.
"Do we have to lead them by the hair to the right place?" Raphael continued furious. He turned, looking for a new outlet for his rage. Leo stepped in, and put a restraining hand on Raph's shoulder. Raph violently shrugged Leo off. Leo, unbalanced, fell back against the bookshelf, knocking a stack of magazines to the floor.
"What is your problem this time, Raph?" The combative brothers froze at this outburst from Don. He was still in his chair at the computer, but his expression was ferocious.
"The cops. I tipped 'em to the bomber's new location, but they didn't listen," Raph responded, stunned into an actual explanation.
"They won't just blindly follow us," Leo said, rubbing his right shoulder uncomfortably. He had connected with the bookshelf - hard. "They have no reason to."
Raph huffed impatiently. "So what do we do, then? Wait for another car bomb to go off?"
"According to Leo, yes," Don said dryly. Leo scowled at the back of Don's head as Don turned back to his computer. "Who is the cop that you gave the information to?"
"I dunno. Some girl with an FBI jacket."
Don spun back, and his eyes went round with shock. "Are you kidding me? The FBI?"
"Yeah. That's what it said on her jacket." Raph shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Don and Leo were staring at him, and it was setting his nerves on edge. "What?"
"Did she see you?" Leo asked, his voice tight with worry.
-
"Samantha Gallagher." Sam held the phone to her ear distractedly, as she attempted to type with one hand. Inwardly, she was cursing her broken wrist. It made it nearly impossible to get her reports finished.
"Sam! What is this email you sent me?"
Sam glanced around the office before answering. She didn't want her partner to know she was working anything on the side.
"Dan, it's exactly what I said. I saw a mysterious guy last night, and he was green," she whispered, turning her attention away from the computer and to her conversation.
"Like a leprechaun," Dan said blandly in her ear. Sam rubbed at her forehead, frustrated, and brushed stray hair out of her face.
"Taller than a leprechaun, and wearing a mask." Sam heard something thud on the other end of the line. "Dan, are you still there?"
"A mask? And he was dressed in green?" Dan sounded strangely excited.
"Yes! Do you have any idea …"
"Sam, we've gotta go," Eric shouted from just behind her, causing her to jump in her chair. She spun to look at her partner. Around her, other agents were charging out the door. "The bomber – he hit two police cars in mid town."
"I've got to go, Dan. I'll talk to you tonight. The usual place," Sam said rapidly into the phone. She hung up before Dan could say anything else, and grabbed her jacket on her way out.
-
A freezing rain had turned the streets into a skating rink for cars. Inside the parking garage, they were protected from the icy sting of the downpour, but the wind still whipped through. Eric had his coat wrapped tightly around his torso, and his hands were jammed into his pockets. He was nearly shivering with cold.
Beside him, Samantha seemed oblivious to the unpleasant conditions. Her eyes were filled with the sight of the two police cruisers – now shattered.
"They all had families," the police captain growled, his shoulders shaking with fury. The uniformed man paced restlessly in front of the damaged cars. "Who the hell could get in here and do this?" He continued to storm back and forth, cursing randomly at those investigating the crime. Broad daylight, or as light as it could get with the rain – how had the bomber managed it?
Samantha wandered away from the scene, and found the security office. Crime scene investigators were already there, running through the tapes.
"Wait," Sam interrupted, pointing at one of the monitors. A shaggy haired man was near the police cruisers, and wearing a cop's uniform. He was looking right into the camera. "Advance it," she ordered. The tape started again, and the man waved cheerily at the camera.
Thomas Sykes. And he was playing with them.
-
"We can't follow him during the day."
"I'm aware of that, Don," Leo retorted, trying to calm his frustration.
"He has almost no online record. His data footprint is incredibly small. No bank accounts, no credit cards – his military records are sealed." Don jabbed his fork down and stabbed a meatball viciously.
"He's a ghost," Mike added, sliding into his seat, and setting a plate full of spaghetti in front of his spot at the table.
"The cops got more than we do, right? They have his name, and they can get his records," Raph pointed out, waving his garlic bread for emphasis before taking a bite.
"They seem to have him as a suspect, but they're not doing much to track him down," Don noted, cutting his meatball into smaller pieces with his fork.
"You have done what you are able, my sons," Splinter said evenly.
"Yes, Master Splinter," Leo agreed, but his expression was troubled.
"We could put a stop to it," Don said, his tone faintly questioning – asking for permission.
"This is a matter for the law, Donatello," Splinter reprimanded gently. "We must wait for the humans to intercede." Considering the matter closed, he turned to Mike. "An excellent meal, as always, Michaelangelo."
Don pushed his spaghetti around on the plate, creating interesting patterns for himself. He had lost his appetite.
-
"So, what did you find?" Samantha said, slipping into the booth hours later. Her expression was grim, and she had dark circles ringing her eyes.
"Jesus," Dan said, his smile of welcome slipping away. "When did you last sleep?"
"I don't remember," Sam confessed. She looked at the manila folder Dan had in front of him on the table.
The waitress arrived, and Sam ordered tea with honey. Once the waitress was gone, Sam continued. "I need a lead, Dan. What do you know about my green man?"
Dan opened the file folder, and spun it around on the table. Sam took a pair of glasses out of her bag, and slid them on.
"There was a fire, and apparently a gang fight, about 11 years ago at this address," Dan started. The waitress walked up and set down the tea. Sam stirred it, and nodded for Dan to go on with his story. "Reports from the area included descriptions of men in green costumes fleeing the scene."
Sam's eyebrows shot up at this.
"There are similar reports from the same neighborhood stretching over a ten year period. The most recent report is from last year." Dan sat back triumphantly. Sam pulled the file closer, and flipped through the pages.
The reports were all fairly similar. The owner of a small grocery store had given a report about four aliens saving his business. The Purple Dragon gang had been after him for protection money, but green creatures put a stop to it. Another page was a purse snatching - some men dressed in green costumes had rescued the woman. They returned her purse, and escorted her to the police station.
Samantha paused in her reading. These guys were trying to help. If only she could find them, then they might give her the information she needed. They had given it to her before, but the wheels of the machinery moved so slowly.
"April O'Neil was the property owner? Any way to contact her?" Sam sipped at her tea distractedly. The waitress had forgotten the honey.
"April Jones as of a couple years ago, and she has the same address now."
Sam glanced at her watch. It was about 8 p.m. A little late to stop by, but there was a chance to catch a lead. She drew her wallet from her bag, and selected a five-dollar bill. She dropped it on the table next to her cup with one hand, and then gathered up the file.
"Thanks, Dan," Sam said, meaning it, and rising to her feet.
The building she needed wasn't far from here. Three blocks, and then she would see what she could find out from Mrs. Jones.
-
"Your turn to wash, bro," Mike notified Don. Mike observed his brother with mounting dismay. While Don was always thinking, he wasn't in the habit of stewing over something with this level of intensity. "Donnie?"
"Yeah," Don said distractedly, and stood up. He moved to the sink like he ran on batteries, and started running hot water. After a moment of reflection, he squeezed some soap in, and started working on the plates.
"You okay?" Mike inquired, his tone gentle. He gathered up a dishtowel, and stood next to Don.
"I don't know how to get Leo to listen to reason," Don confessed as he handed a wet plate to Mike.
Mike took the plate, and dried it carefully. Splinter had complained about the enormous number of plates that were broken every week. "That's a sentence I never though I would hear," Mike said ruefully. He glanced over at Don, and offered a small smile. "Leo needing to listen to reason."
Don summoned a half-smile in response.
"Seriously, bro, it's creepy to watch you two fight," Mike continued. His voice had gone husky with some emotion that Don couldn't put a name to. Mike shrugged self-consciously at Don's concerned stare. "I mean, Leo and Raph get into it every other day, but you and Leo … you're not supposed to be like this."
"It'll be okay, Mikey," Don reassured, handing another plate over. White suds coated his hands and forearms. He grabbed up a pile of cutlery and started washing.
"Just don't do anything crazy," Mike said, setting down the dry plate on top of the other on the counter. "Please?"
"Raph is the one who does the crazy," Don retorted, rinsing the pile of forks and knives. "Warn him. Here," Don handed the jumble of silverware to Mike. "Hey, and be careful of the knives."
Mike frowned at the pile wrapped in his dishtowel, and then shook his head at Don. "Whatever, bro. I can handle knives." A fork slipped free and crashed to the floor. Both jumped back, avoiding injury to their feet. "It's the forks I can't handle," Mike continued, setting the dry cutlery on top of the counter, and bending to retrieve the errant fork.
-
'Second Time Around' – Sam wondered, looking up at the sign over the door, if that was referring to anyone's marital state. Samantha pressed the call button at the front door, and waited for a response. After a few moments, during which she looked nervously up and down the empty street, a female voice came over the speaker.
"Yes."
Pressing the button again, Sam spoke into the speaker box. "I'm looking for April Jones. Police business."
The security door buzzed, and Sam caught the handle and opened it. A few short flights of stairs, and she was outside the Jones apartment. Sam knocked, and squared her shoulders, trying to look professional despite her messed hair and filthy tennis shoes. The door opened to reveal an attractive woman, a little taller than Samantha.
"April Jones?" When the woman nodded, Sam gave her the government-issue smile. "I'm Special Agent Samantha Gallagher." Sam held up her identification. "May I come in? I need to ask you a few questions."
April Jones studied the photo identification with something like surprise or fear. "I … may I ask what this is about?"
"It's about the fire 11 years ago," Sam answered promptly, watching April's face for any telltale emotions. Her attention was rewarded with concern, surprise, and then reasonably calm again. "May I come in?"
"Of course," Mrs. Jones replied, and opened the door wide.
-