Author's Note: I hope you all had a nice holiday season and Happy New Year celebration! I used Bugattis for this chapter because somehow, my son became completely obsessed with them and I'm not even sure where he learned what a Bugatti was.

A few hours after rescuing the frightened woman, securing the scene, sweeping for evidence, and canvassing for witnesses, Kabal and Stryker finally returned to their precinct. But whereas Kurtis was nearly dead on his feet, Kadeem was as energetic as a junkie strung out on crack. This exhilaration was about to carry him off somewhere. The current was too overpowering; he didn't have any choice. The allure of this uncharted territory tempted him like a sweet siren's song, and damn it, he knew danger lurked there, something that could wound him fatally, something that could cost him everything. But there was no turning back now. He could only continue the pursuit of this mystifying villain and keep playing this deadly game. Almost grinning behind his respirator mask, he looked at the pager and cell phone lying on Lieutenant Mansfield's desk. They were the ones the hostage had used to contact him.

Mansfield flopped down in her chair and pointed to them. "What did you get from her?" she asked.

Kurtis crossed his arms. "She lives in the Bronx. Two men broke in. Wearing masks. Decked her out with enough explosives to take down the apartment building and told her to call us." He pointed to the pager, which his partner was now curiously examining. "She had to read out from this."

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would've set her off," Kadeem thoughtfully added.

"Or if we hadn't solved the case in the time allotted."

"Sophisticated," he breathed in blatant admiration. Whoever their perpetrator was, he was brilliantly devious, which made him far more interesting than anyone he'd seen in a long time.

"Sophisticated!" Kurtis yelped in exasperation. If the other hadn't been so engrossed in looking at the pager, he would've recognized the disgust and disappointment in his partner's tone.

"But what was the point?" Mansfield asked. "Why would anyone do this?"

Kadeem shrugged. "Well...I can't be the only person in the world who gets bored," he said, setting the pager back on the desk.

Just as he did, the yellow iPhone in his coat pocket chimed. Almost startled by the sound, he quickly yanked it out and swiped on the notification.

You have one new message. Beep Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Four pips this time," Kurtis observed.

"Apparently, we passed the first test. Now here's the second one," his partner replied as a picture appeared on the screen. It was a flashy red sports-car - a Bugatti Chiron - with all its doors wide open. The burned detective raised his eyebrow behind his mask. Not exactly subtle… "Looks abandoned, wouldn't you say?" he asked the other two as he showed them the picture text.

"That's a 3.5 million dollar car," the other detective murmured. "That's a hell of a lot of money to just abandon."

"I'll see if it's been reported," Mansfield volunteered. But even as she grabbed her desk phone, Tina Valdez, another detective in their department, yelled for Kabal from just outside the lieutenant's office.

"Freak!" she called. She hated him for the person he used to be and she made no secret of it either. Obliviously, Kadeem turned to face her. Tina held out her phone, looking more than a little bemused that he responded to the insult. "It's for you," she snidely remarked.

He left the office and went to the phone. "This is Detective Kabal," he greeted.

A frightened man answered on the other end. "It's okay...that you've gotten the other police involved…I know they're your family…" he mumbled, clearly struggling not to cry.

Kadeem frowned. "Who is this? Is this you again?"

The man didn't answer his question, only continued, "...but don't rely on them. Clever you. Guessing about Kyle Coffey. I never liked him. I had a little theory. About asteroids. Kyle laughed at me. So I stopped him from laughing."

"And now you've stolen another voice," he deduced.

The frightened man paused, then said, "This is about you and me."

"Who are you?" he demanded to know. He frowned, straining to hear the background noise behind the man, hoping it could give him some clue as to where this guy was. Cars rushed behind him, the occasional driver leaning on the horn. Sounds of people talking, shop bells ringing. "What's that noise?"

Another pause. "The sounds...of life...Kadeem," he managed over his trembling voice. "But don't worry...I can soon fix that. You solved…my last puzzle…in nine hours. This time…you have eight." As soon as he said it, the phone went dead in Kabal's ear. The detective sighed, hung it back up, his demeanor now solemn, troubled.

Now the phone in Mansfield's office rang, and she answered. "Yeah?" She listened for a moment and then her eyes lit up as she looked at her two detectives. "We've found the car! Prospect Park, let's go!"

"This is a fucking beautiful car," Stryker murmured as his eyes caressed the maroon Bughatti. "I'd give my left nut to have something like this."

"Even with all this blood?" Kabal wondered.

"Even with all this blood," he breathed.

"The car was hired yesterday morning by a Nathan Grayson," Lieutenant Mansfield told them as she looked at her notepad before gently lifting Kurtis up by the arm. He gave her a mournful pout. "Stock market guru of some kind. Paid for this car in cash. He told his wife he was going away on a business trip. Obviously, he never arrived."

As she read out her notes, Kadeem peered inside the Bugatti through the wide open car door. The seats were shamefully covered in blood. Didn't take an astonishing leap of deduction to conclude that it was probably Nate's. Carefully, he used a swab to scoop some of the drying goo into a collection tube. He wanted to run some tests of his own on it.

Meanwhile, Tina Valdez stood close to Kurtis with her arms crossed, a small little smirk on her face. She looked up at him. "You're still hanging around him, Stryker," she said in a sotto voice.

"Yeah. Well." He inhaled deeply.

She shrugged. "Opposites attract, I suppose."

"What?" he sharply looked at her. "We're not in a relationship-"

Tina abruptly cut him off. "You should get yourself a hobby," she jeered. "Stamps, maybe. Model trains. Safer than running around New York with that asshole."

Kadeem vaguely listened to her try to warn his partner off while he now dug through the car, looking for clues. Mansfield clearly didn't hear their exchange because she stood behind him at the door and said, "Before you ask, yes, it's Grayson's blood. Preliminary DNA checks out."

He emerged from the car holding a business card that he'd found in the center console. "But still no body?" he asked.

"Not yet, freak," Tina told him, "but we all know you'll be on the edge of your seat waiting for one."

Kadeem looked at her. "Valdez, I'm so glad you're here to help us with this case," he told her. "But if you're here, then who's guarding Hades?" Her mouth dropped open in indignation, and she sputtered as she tried to think of a comeback. But he grinned before he marched off. He knew Kurtis flashed her a look of apology, but it didn't matter because he followed his partner anyway. The burned detective quickly approached a stunning, thirty-something blonde woman in an Alexander McQueen pants suit standing with a uni. "Mrs. Grayson?"

The woman turned at the sound of his voice. She looked tired, her face drawn. "Yes?" she acknowledged sweetly until she saw Kabal's burns and strange mask. Then her voice abruptly changed to an impatient, aristocratic one. "Listen, sorry, I've already spoken to two policemen…"

The detective smiled, conjuring a story at once. "I'm not with the police, they called me here to give a statement. My name is Kadeem Kabal. Very old friend of your husband's. We grew up together."

Kurtis recoiled. "Wha-" he started to say, but was promptly cut off by the woman.

"I'm sorry, who?" she said, her nose wrinkling in disbelief. "I don't think he ever mentioned you-"

"But he had to, we grew up together!" he argued. Then he sighed and looked back to the car. "God, this is horrible, isn't it? I can't believe something like this could happen to him. I saw him the other day. Same old Nate, not a care in the world."

She scowled now, her faint crows feet around her eyes deepening along with her irritation. "My husband's been depressed for months," she contradicted him. "Who are you?"

"Really strange that he wouldn't call an Uber to get out of the city, though," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Why would he drive his Bugatti around town like he did? It's a bit suspicious. He was just asking for something like this to happen."

She clearly bristled at the mention of an Uber. "No it isn't unusual," she snapped. "He just forgot to have the oil changed in our Lexus and it damaged the engine, so it was in the shop."

Kadeem chuffed in feigned amusement. "Well, that's Nate for you, isn't it?" he bitterly chuckled as he threw up his hands. "He'd forget his own name if it wasn't on his birth certificate!"

"No it wasn't like him at all!" she argued.

Immediately, the burned detective dropped all pretense. "Wasn't it?" he said, cocking his head. "Now that's interesting." Then he turned and started heading away.

Mrs. Grayson instantly wheeled on the beat cop who was guarding her. "Who was that?" she demanded to know. "Who was I talking to?"

Kadeem merely laughed to himself as Kurtis caught up with him. "Why did you lie to her?" he wondered.

He looked at his partner. "Now you know as well as I do that people don't like telling you things. But they love to contradict you," he told him. Then he looked at the car. "Past tense - did you notice?"

"What?" the other asked, confused.

"I referred to Nate in the past tense and then she joined in," he explained. "It's a little bit early for that since we only just found the car."

Now his partner wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "So what, you think she killed her husband?"

He scoffed. "Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make. Not a smart one, anyway."

"What if she's stupid?"

"No," he scoffed. "She's elitist and she's a rich snob, but she's not dumb. There's something else here."

"I see," he murmured. Then he furiously shook his head. "No, no, I don't. What am I seeing, Kadeem?"

He held out the business card he found in the car. It read: Janus Motorcars, Licensed Bugatti Dealers.

Approximately an hour later, having left Lieutenant Mansfield and Valdez to finish things up in Prospect Park, Kurtis and Kadeem found themselves in the swanky, first floor office of Aiden Jackson, owner of Janus Motorcars, sitting opposite of his massive mahogany desk. Windows surrounded them on three sides and offered a clear view of the showroom floor where Bugattis of all makes and colors made Kurtis internally salivate. Jackson himself was a smartly dressed man in his forties, well-tanned, with plenty of gold accessories to hint at his success. Kadeem most notably noticed the gold Rolex on his wrist, somewhat hidden under his white cuff sleeve. Behind him was a solid wall covered in pictures of the world's most expensive cars.

"I only sold Mr. Grayson the car, gentlemen, nothing more," Jackson was saying. "I can't see how I can help any more than that."

Kurtis managed to pull his eyes away from the cars long enough to look at his notebook. "Mr. Grayson bought the car from you a week ago."

The manager smiled and nodded. "Yup. Lovely maroon Bugatti Chiron. Wouldn't mind one of them myself."

Kadeem looked at some pictures low down on the wall and pointed. "Is that one?" he asked, knowing full well it was a Ferrari, but playing dumb.

Jackson turned in his swivel chair, bending low. "Nah," he chuckled. "They're all Bugattis." He looked at him with a condescending smirk. "I can see you're not a car man."

"Surely you can afford one?" he needled him. "You have a Rolex, after all."

The man laughed. "Fair point!" he said. "But, you know how it is. It's like working in a candy shop. Once you start picking at the saltwater taffy, where does it stop?" He scratched his upper arm then and a pinprick of blood blooming on his stark white shirt caught the detective's eye.

Now Kurtis spoke. "You didn't know Mr. Grayson?" he asked.

"No," he shrugged. "He was just a client. Walked in here and paid cash for one of my cars. I've got no idea what happened to him, the poor man."

A moment of awkward silence followed. Kadeem looked him in the eyes from behind his own mask so long that Jackson grew uncomfortable and looked away. This prompted the detective to say, "Did you have a nice vacation, Mr. Jackson?"

Now the man looked at him in a blend of confusion and of horror of being discovered. "Huh?" he quickly asked.

"You've been abroad, haven't you?" he continued.

The manager looked to his unnaturally dark skin. "This, you mean?" he smiled. "Nah. Tanning bed, I'm afraid. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though. Bit of sun. She's been nagging me to take her on a Caribbean cruise lately."

Kadeem just nodded, then suddenly brightened. "Hey, do you have change for the soda machine?"

"What?" he asked.

"I noticed there was one on the way in and I'm out of change," he explained. "I'm dying of thirst. Here." He offered the manager a ten dollar bill. Thoughtfully, Jackson pulled out his wallet and rifled inside to find some ones while the detective watched him. He saw a few notes that weren't American. Not North American, anyway.

"Nah," he said a moment later. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's all good," he replied. "Well, thanks for your time, Mr. Jackson, you've been very helpful."

Jackson got to his feet to show them out. "So what do you think happened to him? Gang stuff? A drive-by shooting?"

He nodded. "Something like that, I'm sure," he agreed. "Come on, Stryker." The two then left and walked into the hallway to the showroom where they promptly passed the soda machine.

Kurtis immediately reached for his own wallet. "I've got change if you still want a pop-"

"Nope," he cut him off, "remember how much I hate taking off my mask to drink in front of people? I'm fine."

"Then what was all that about?" he demanded to know, putting his wallet away now.

"I just needed a look in his wallet." He walked quickly and his partner had to trot to keep up with him.

"Why?"

"Because Mr. Jackson is a liar," he said when they emerged from the showroom into the parking lot. He clapped his partner on the back.

Inside the underground impound lot at the precinct, Kadeem crouched in the back of the Bugatti, staring intently at the blood-stained back seat before he then opened a lab go-bag containing rows of tiny glass bottles. He selected one. In it was a colorless liquid with a pipette in the lid. He dropped a tiny quantity of the stuff onto the blood-stain and watched it fizzed for a moment before the phone in his pocket rang. He yanked it free and saw that it was the yellow iPhone again. Puzzled, he answered it.

"Hello?" he greeted.

"The clue's in the name," the terrified hostage from earlier slowly read out loud. "Janus Cars."

Kadeem narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "And why would you be giving me a clue?"

"Why does anyone…do anything? Because I'm bored."

The detective thought about it; it was so familiar. He remembered beating "Kano" to a pulp in his living room. Knocking him on his back. Agitating Kurtis just because he could. He understood that, perhaps better than anyone on the planet right now. He had been bored too.

"We…were made for each other…Kabal," the man continued, trembling.

"Then talk to me with your own voice," he baited him.

"Patience," the other said. Then the line went dead.

Kadeem leaned there, intrigued. He couldn't help smiling a little, and that smile quickly turned into a beaming grin at the blood stain. The wetness from the pipette widened, turning into a wipe…

About a half an hour later, both Lieutenant Mansfield and Kurtis had joined him in the impound. The three of them stood outside the open car, staring at it with crossed arms. Kadeem had made some very telling discoveries, and like a giddy little boy on Christmas morning, he couldn't wait to share his news with them.

"How much blood is on the seat, would you say?" he rhetorically asked them. He already knew the answer.

Mansfield shrugged. "How much?" she repeated. "About a pint."

"Not about. Exactly a pint," he corrected. "That was their first mistake. The blood is definitely Grayson's. But it's been frozen."

"Frozen?" she said, wrinkling her face in confusion. She wasn't alone in that. Kurtis also looked puzzled.

"There are clear signs," he told them. "I tested a sample in the lab and then again here with a different process. It's definitely been frozen. So I think Grayson gave a pint of his blood some time ago. And that's what they spread all over the seat."

"Who did?" his partner now asked.

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name."

Kurtis thought about it for a minute. "I'm rusty on my mythology, but isn't that the God with two faces?"

"Exactly," he happily agreed. "Bugattis are just a cover. They provide a very special service. If you've got problems - money troubles, bad marriage, whatever - Janus Cars will help you disappear. Nathan Grayson was up to his eyeballs in some kind of trouble - financial at a guess, given that he's some sort of Wall Street lackey. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish…If the car he just bought was found abandoned with his blood all over the back seat…"

"So where is he?" his partner asked.

"Colombia."

"Colombia?" Mansfield said. "You wanna walk us through how you arrived at that conclusion?"

Kadeem shrugged. "Mr. Jackson of Janus Cars had a twenty-thousand Colombian peso note in his wallet and quite a bit of change too."

"And you just know it was Columbian by glancing at it for a few seconds?" Kurtis skeptically breathed.

His partner looked at him like he was a toddler. "Please," he drawled, silently reminding him of his sordid past. As he did, Kurtis nodded and sighed, feeling stupid. Of course Kabal, the former gun-runner, drug-runner, bad-guy Kabal knew what Columbian money looked like at a simple glance.

The burned detective looked at them both, positively pleased with himself. "He told us he hadn't been abroad recently but when I asked him about the cars, he turned and looked down, and I could clearly see the tan line on his neck and wrists. No one wears a long-sleeved shirt on a tanning bed. So, that was his first lie. That plus his arm…"

"His arm?" his partner repeated. "What about it?"

"Didn't you notice how he kept scratching it? Obviously, it was irritating him. And bleeding. Why? Because he's recently had a booster shot. Hep B, probably. Maybe typhoid. Hard to tell at that distance."

He paused, prompting Kurtis to smirk, shake his head, and said, "Oh, come on, don't stop now. We all know you're just dying to tell the class."

Kadeem chuckled. "This is my conclusion: he's just come back from settling Nathan Grayson into his new life in Colombia. Mrs. Grayson will eventually cash in the life insurance and the car insurance and she'll split it with Janus Cars."

"Mrs. Grayson?" Mansfield asked in surprise.

"Oh yes," he smiled. "She's in on it too. Now let's go arrest them. But first, we need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved!" He looked at his watch and saw there was plenty of time left to solve the puzzle. "Oh, I am on fire!" He pulled out his own phone and logged once more onto the NYPD's official Twitter account before he typed: Congratulations to Nathan Grayson on his relocation to Colombia.

About thirty seconds passed before the yellow iPhone rang again. "He…he says…you can come and get me…" the hostage spoke as soon as Kabal answered. "Help…Help me, please!" he cried before he broke down and began sobbing.

It didn't take long to find the man in Times Square in front of the McDonald's Express. Like the first woman, he wore a bomb vest hidden under a puffy jacket. By the time the police reached him, he was sagging with tiredness, but his eyes were full of relief as the block was evacuated and the bomb squad freed him from the pounds of plastique and wires. And when Stryker escorted him to the ambulance to be treated for dehydration, he collapsed in the man's arms, crying in joy.