Thank you for all the affirming feedback last time! I am grateful for your input and enthusiasm. Thanks for feeding the needy. ;-)
Okay, so, let's continue with our bony mystery! Please enjoy and review!
Chapter 3
"Excuse me, but we are in the midst of an open investigation, and you are an outsider," Dr. Brennan said, somewhat in disbelief of the audacious interloper. "Protocol dicates..."
"Correction, you are stuck in a ditch in your investigation," said the stranger. "Once again, Dr. Brennan, the fact is, I am currently your only hope. Five minutes, that's all I'm asking. Five minutes alone with the skeleton - you can watch me on the surveillance monitors. I won't do anything to jeopardise the bones, or the investigation."
"No, the fact is that I am the best in the world at what I do, and that is examining human bones for evidence. The fact is, you are a cop. From your credentials, you're an elite cop, but you're a cop. The logical conclusion is that if I didn't find anything useful on those remains, you won't either. Simple syllogism."
"Best in the world?"
"Yes, I have Ph.D.'s in anthropology, forensic anthropology and kinesiology. That means I know humans, how to examine their bones and lives to hypothesize as to what might have happened to them, and how the human skeleton and musculature work together. I've written several published works on..."
"Oh, sorry, didn't I mention?" interrupted the man in the suit, whimsy returning to his voice. "My doctorates are in anthropology, forensic anthropology, kinesiology and osteology."
Brennan folded her arms over her chest defensively. "Excuse me? That... that cannot be true. If you had that level of expertise, and you work in law-enforcement, I'd have heard of you."
He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. As I said, I've never met a human being who knows as much about bones as I do, but you come really close."
Brennan did not move, except to bite the inside of her cheek as she often did when all she wanted was to throw something heavy at someone.
There was a long silence while the Jeffersonian team, and the outsider, looked at each other.
Finally, Cam turned to the well-schooled Scotland Yard official, and said, "Would you please excuse us for a moment?"
"Sure," he said with a smile.
She motioned for Hodgins, Angela and Brennan to join her outside the office door. As they filed out, the man sat down on a sofa, facing away from them, and folded his arms.
"Could he seriously have more degrees in bone stuff than Brennan?" Angela whispered.
"I very seriously doubt it," Brennan declared. "I'm fairly certain he's exhibiting what's called bravado. Roughly defined, it's a manipulation tactic used most often by males, whereby he exaggerates his own attributes in an attempt to silence everyone else and get what he wants. Also known as machismo."
"Yes, thank you for clearing that up, Dr. Brennan," said Cam. To everyone, she said, "Okay, so what the hell do we do? I mean, this guy... I don't trust him as far as I could throw him, but he's got the creds from Scotland Yard, he's clearly done his homework, multiple doctorates or not. And he's right: we're totally up a creek on this one."
"I think we should let him in," said Hodgins, very quietly.
No one seemed to hear him.
"I think that we should systematically verify his degrees from all of his alma maters before proceeding," Brennan suggested. "As well as contacting Scotland Yard. Booth and I have a connection there..."
Then came an interruption. "Hi guys, what's going on?" They all turned their attention toward the voice. It belonged to Dr. Lance Sweets, entering through a side door, usually only used by Jeffersonian personnel. He was carrying a black duffel bag, sweating profusely, and wearing a navy blue FBI tee-shirt, shorts and running shoes.
"What the hell, Sweets?" asked Angela.
"The FBI is remodeling the weight room," he answered. "The Agents have been approved to use another facility at the Bureau's expense, but not, say, surprisingly fit psychological profilers who don't want to let their figures go. So, Cam got me a temporary access card to the Jeffersonian's gym."
"Okay, Sweets, I'm glad you're here," Cam said, a bit of desperation seeping into her voice. Quickly, she ran down the situation concerning the go-nowhere investigation and the blue-suited stranger, who was supposedly a four-time Ph.D. from Scotland Yard. "What would you do?"
"Want me to talk to him and see if he's a sociopath?" asked Sweets.
"He's not a sociopath," Hodgins said, again, with such uncharacteristic timidity that no one seemed to hear.
"Yes, please," Cam said, gesturing toward the door.
Sweets shrugged. "Okay." He went into Dr. Brennan's office, and as he did, the man on the sofa stood up. Angela, Cam and Brennan watched them shake hands and chat a bit. Hodgins paced nervously, keeping his eyes on the sterile floor.
The stranger showed Sweets his credentials, and did most of the talking while Sweets listened. After only a minute or two, Sweets led him to the door, and the two men stepped out into the lab area.
"So, our friend here is going to the bone room to examine the skeleton, and we are going to watch on the monitor," Sweets announced. "Sound good?"
"He's determined that I'm not a sociopath," said the stranger, delightedly, hands in pockets. "Innit brilliant? I've never had someone do that before."
Sweets seemed surprised, then covered it quickly with an affable grin. "Don't tell me you have a doctorate in psychology too."
"Okay. I won't tell you. Which way is the bone room?"
"I'll show you," said Dr. Brennan, taking the lead. Sweets, Angela, and Cam retreated through a door that connected the lab with the Jeffersonian's security control room. Hodgins sneaked off behind a partition. Again, no one seemed to notice.
Brennan wasted none of her alone-time with the stranger.
"So, will you be profiling the osteons?" she asked, walking a few paces ahead of the man.
He smirked. "No, Dr. Brennan," he said. "Since you already have the sex, age, and in fact, the full identity of the victim, including dietary indicators, that won't be necessary. But I understand your inclination to test my knowledge."
"All right," she said, not appearing to have heard him call her on her decision to 'quiz' him. "Maybe it would be best if you assess secondary ossification from cartilaginous molds."
"Well, since the victim is not a newborn, I don't think that would be a good use of my time. And it probably wouldn't give us much insight anyway, since it's an internal, natural process of bone development and would have no bearing on a person's death... although, you folks at the Jeffersonian, you find ways to make things have bearing on a person's death, and I think that's fantastic. It's why you're so bloody amazing. You have imagination!"
"What we do here is hard science, based on facts, not imagination," she told him firmly. "Perhaps your career in law-enforcement has made you forget what that means."
"Touché," he said. "I suppose I meant innovation, not imagination."
When they reached the bone room, she stopped at the door. "I'm curious," she said. "Have you considered taking your talents to Canada?"
"Why do you ask? Because Canada has ten provinces and three territories where forensic scientists are very strongly encouraged to have police experience?"
"Yes," she said, crestfallen that he knew this piece of trivia.
"Well, I'm happy doing what I do," he assured her.
"Something to consider," she commented. "Though Toronto might not be the place to go."
"Because the province of Ontario requires forensic specialists to have medical training? Well, that doesn't scare me."
The implication that this admittedly very smart weirdo also had medical training was not lost on Dr. Brennan, in spite of her usual inability to capture subtleties in conversation.
She gestured inside the room. "Here you go, Dr...?" she leaned her ear forward slightly to indicate that she was waiting for more information from him.
"Doctor," he said, nodding. "Just Doctor, will do fine."
This exasperated her, but she figured she'd leave the questioning later on to Booth and Sweets. "Fine, Doctor. Please remember, you are under surveillance, and Jeffersonian security guards are armed."
He smiled softly and nodded, saluting at her a bit. He turned and walked into the bone room. Dr. Brennan decided to join her colleagues in the surveillance office.
"So if he's not a sociopath, then what in the name of Thomas Dwight is up with this guy?" Cam asked Sweets, as soon as they were out of earshot.
"He's not a sociopath, but he's probably delusional," said Sweets with a big smile. "Even so, if you are as totally stuck as you say you are - which I have never heard you claim before - then, letting him in on a limited basis might not be the worst idea in the world."
"Wow," said Cam.
Sweets continued, "Delusional individuals can be quite knowledgeable, as they operate rationally within the framework of their delusion. If he has convinced himself that he's a bone expert of Dr. Brennan's caliber and then some, he might very well have done some major studying-up on the subject. He might not have the credentials he says he does, but if he believes he's Scotland Yard, then he will behave with integrity concerning the investigation, and will not do anything to jeopardize it."
"So, you want to observe him," Cam said with a smirk. "That's what I'm hearing."
"Well, yeah, but it also might not hurt to see if he can find something that you people have missed," Sweets answered a bit defensively.
"It still seems weird," Angela commented. "He is way too smooth. Plus, that suit... and all the stuff he knew about us..."
She pushed open the door, and the three of them filed into the small surveillance room, lined with screens. Cam quickly explained to the guard what they were doing there, and he nodded, without a word, and went back to his control board.
"Your educational and professional profiles are online," Sweets reminded Angela. "A lot of people know this team. Especially people interested in crime and/or law-enforcement."
"He's creepy," she argued.
"And good-looking," Sweets teased.
"So? I'm celibate right now, thank you very much," she reminded him, hands on hips.
"He didn't hit on you, did he?"
"No, but..."
"Yeah, you're uncomfortable because he's a good-looking man with a smooth-operator demeanor and he didn't try to get into your pants. Get over it."
"That is not why he's creepy," she protested. "What about Brennan and Cam? He didn't hit on them either. He might be gay."
"He told me I was hot," Cam corrected.
"Yeah, he's totally not gay," Sweets declared.
"What, because you're a profiler you have gaydar too?" Angela wanted to know.
"Yes. Yes I do. So which screen is it?"
Angela's jaw gapped open with exasperation. She couldn't tell if Sweets was serious or not, but upon glancing at Cam and her almost-laugh, she decided just to drop the subject.
They watched the man in the suit as he walked reverently into the bone room, without Dr. Brennan. For a minute, he just stood with his hands in his pockets, bent at the waist, looking very closely at the skeleton.
Brennan entered the surveillance room, and asked, "What's he doing?"
"So far, nothing, he's just looking," Cam reported.
"Did you quiz him?" asked Sweets.
"What?" asked Brennan.
"Did you ask him bone questions on the way?"
She was nonplussed that he would know that, but admitted, "Yes, a little. It was a rational thing to do."
"Of course it was. And how did he fare?"
"Just fine," she said, grudgingly.
"Not surprised," Sweets told her.
They watched as the man on the screen walked over to the wall and pulled a pair of rubber gloves from the top box in the rack and pulled them on. From there, he switched on the video microscope and slid the victim's right femur under the viewer. He used several filters and settings to examine the bone, but said nothing, did nothing to indicate what he was thinking, and made no notes.
After another couple of minutes, he returned the femur to its rightful place on the table. And then he turned completely away from the bones, discarded the gloves, pulled some sort of instrument from his suit pocket, and began walking around the room. It looked like he was inspecting the floors and walls.
"What in the world is he doing?" Cam asked aloud.
"He's clearly done with the remains," said Brennan. "Let's get him out of there. If he's found nothing, let's not let him waste any more of our time."
"No, no," Sweets interrupted, gently stopping Dr. Brennan by taking her arm. "Let me watch him a bit longer. If he does something to compromise the bones, you can go stop him."
The man took his instrument, and pointed it into the corner of the room, and the thing seemed to buzz and emit a blue light from the end. Then he shifted positions, and aimed it at an area underneath the instrument tray, repeating the action. He did this in several places around the room, while the Jeffersonian team watched with total confusion, and Sweets watched with intrigue.
"Oh, this dude is definitely not right in the head," Angela said.
"In my expert opinion," said Sweets. "You're probably right."
Dr. Jack Hodgins was shaken. He had walked away from the crew to catch his breath. He'd obtained a glass of water, taken a few good sips, and splashed the rest on his face. Then, he made sure that Dr. Brennan had left the stranger alone in the bone room, before creeping toward room's doorway himself. He needed to see the stranger in action. He didn't know much about bones himself, no more than he'd been able to glean just from listening to Dr. Brennan, Zach and the Squinterns talk over the years... but he knew plenty about the shadowy, dark corners of the internet, where only the strangest things brewed.