Private sulked in the bedroom, seated on his bunk. He could here bits and pieces of the conversation outside the door.
"…Private… always so… nice…"
"…completely trustworthy…"
"…don't know what hitting sixteen does to kids…"
The door opened.
"Alright Private," Skipper's expression was stern, "What do you have to say for yourself?" Private sat there in silence, "You know that our team does not tolerate such childish behaviour," Private suddenly found the floor incredibly fascinating, "I made it clear, when I took you in, that you would be trading in your childhood. With any other kid, your actions would be disappointing but acceptable. But, taking your friends for a joy ride in the team's car, you've caused an unacceptable security breach, not to mention preventing me from continuing with what just might be a very important case! If Rockgut was aware of your actions, those three families would be watched for several years, just in case. That's nine agents who wouldn't be available for more important field work due to your…"
"My actions?" Private looked up at Skipper, "I didn't do anything!"
"Really, Private?" skipper raised an eyebrow. The kid was a terrible liar.
"I didn't…!" Skipper tossed him back his phone, which had been confiscated.
"Call them, Private. We're going to clean this up once and for all."
"Hey, Amarillo!" Private greeted, though despite his best efforts, his voice lacked enthusiasm.
"You okay there, Tux?" the teen asked in his southern accent as he marched through the door. Arthur Armadillo was one of Private's closest friends, as well as the one of the ones who allegedly took a joy ride in the team's car. Private had met the boy at his home schooling group.
"Yeah." Private stepped aside to let Amarillo, who was not unaware of his fate, enter the apartment.
"Private? Is this some kind of joke?" Barry marched angrily down the hall. He'd met Barry Smith at a basket weaving workshop, claiming only to be there to 'bully the wimps at the sissy convention', though Private suspected the seventeen year old had other reasons for attending. He'd gone through with his threat, generally ruining the whole weekend workshop until Private had realised Barry was only acting that way as a desperate cry for attention from his constantly working parents, and decided to befriend him.
"He's as serious as a super serious dart frog, that's bein'… um…serious." Amarillo replied.
"Well, shall we go in and watch your dad waste his time." Barry rolled his eyes.
"Alright, you three," Skipper sat down in a chair across from them, looking seemingly relaxed, "Make it easy on yourselves and tell me exactly what you were doing last night."
"We already told you," Private answered for the trio, "We all went over to Barry's place to study." Skipper stood up from his chair, pacing the room. They were going to be difficult.
"The why aren't Barry's parents able to confirm this?" skipper asked.
"Because they weren't there," Amarillo answered, slightly intimidated by Private's father's cold glare.
"Like they're ever there." Barry muttered. Suddenly Skipper stopped, scrutinising Barry. There was something familiar about him, that bright red shirt and blue jeans. Like he'd seen a photograph of him somewhere, he just couldn't recall where.
"None of you are going to confess, are you?" Skipper turned the glare on all three. Barry sat there unaffected, a confident smile on his face. Amarillo was the complete opposite, noticeably squirming in his seat. Private's face was emotionless, "Alright, I'll prove it."
Skipper, the three boys, Kowalski and Rico stood before what seemed like a blank wall. Well, it was until Skipper placed his hand on one section. A blue light moved up and down across his palm, scanning it.
"Palm print: recognised. Welcome Skipper." A computerised voice with no discernible source answered. They walked down the concrete spiral steps, skipper leading. Finally, after what seemed like decades (Skipper had purposely taken the stairs instead of the elevator, the silence would help to unnerve them) they reached the weapons storage area, which Skipper walked past, the door was shut and he doubted Private had allowed them to see it, and continued to the car park. How he had managed to build this under the apartment, was still a mystery to Private.
"Tux, your dad's gotta be nuts," Amarillo muttered, "It's not like he can prove nothin'." The six strong party stopped before the team's sleek black car.
"I can't prove nothin'?" Kowalski scoffed, "You are telling the world's foremost forensic investigator…"
"Bragging, Kowalski," Skipper reminded, then turned to Rico, "Alright, Rico, give me the shoes." The Rico removed three shoes from his knapsack.
"Wait a minute, is that my shoe?!" Barry exclaimed.
"Yes, it is. Kowalski was examining them while we were having our little chat," Skipper answered, "Now, Kowalski, would you please report your findings?"
"You don't have the right to steal my shoe!" Amarillo protested.
"Yes sir," Kowalski looked down at some pieces of paper he'd taken with him. He handed each of the boys a sheet, along with their shoe.
"That looks like a photocopy of my shoe..." Private looked at the paper, and then at his shoe.
"Yes, extremely observant of you, Private." Skipper answered sarcastically.
"Those are copies of the clearest samples of the latent prints found on the floor of the hallway," Kowalski answered, "If you look at the two, you will see that the class characteristics obviously match, and…"
"We get the idea. They're the same," Skipper interrupted, "Now, let's reconstruct the crime."
Kowalski walked over to the end of the hallway they had entered from.
"I found three sets of footprints, consistent with your shoes," Kowalski walked back towards the group, demonstrating where they'd walked the previous night, "You walked from the door, to the front of the car. Barry had stolen skipper's keys from his coat earlier. The keys contained only his prints. The key also contained traces of clay, indicating that he may have also copied it,"
"You never said you copied it?" Private hissed. Some of Skipper's paranoia had evidently rubbed off on him.
"What? I thought if we did this again it would be easier if I made a copy." Barry defended.
Kowalski indicated to the door handle of the car, "Arthur then opened the passenger's seat, but was pushed back by Barry. He stumbled backwards, catching himself on the side of the car, as indicated by fingerprints. Private then got in the driver's seat, prints on the wheel confirm this, Barry took the passenger's seat, and Arthur took the one directly behind Private." The two boys looked at Kowalski, completely astonished.
"Barry and Amarillo have ridden in the car before!" Private objected hurriedly, "The prints could have been left from before!"
"Car GPS tracker show that the car drove out of the parking lot, around the city, then to the empty lots behind the Consolidated Amalgamated warehouses." Kowalski answered.
"We did take the car out for a drive," Private gushed. He was already feeling guilty about what he'd done, "I never thought…"
"Shut up, Private." Barry hissed.
"We just drove it around, that's all," Amarillo answered.
"No," Kowalski held out a distorted bullet in a clear plastic bag, "Private activated the machine guns mounted under the lights. Bullets found in the empty lot match those fired from the car."
Amarillo stared at Kowalski, unsure of what to do. Barry had the classic 'hands in the cookie jar' scowl, and Private looked like he was about to cry. Private had always prided on himself on being well behaved, but Barry and Amarillo kept teasing him that he couldn't drive. After that, Private had gotten carried away, showing off several of the weapons systems.
"I'm so sorry Skippah!" Private apologised, "I've been so thoughtless and…"
"Save the mushy talk, you're grounded."
"Kowalski, does that Barry kid look familiar too you?" Skipper asked, staring blankly at the screen in front of him as Kowalski waited for the files to decrypt.
"Not particularly, but then he could be like Amarillo, a kid we met on a mission. We've been on so many, it's hard to tell." Kowalski replied.
"No, if he was a kid we met on a mission, Private would have remembered him; he remembers everyone," Skipper tried to think back to where he'd seen him. That pompous grin was somehow familiar, "Check his photo…"
"The files have been decrypted, Skipper." Kowalski interrupted, pointing to the screen. For a few minutes the two sat in silence going through the documents.
"So, that could have been Rockgut…" Skipper thought aloud, staring off into space, "it's not official, it could have been and off the books mission, but it would make sense. He was in Geneva in '72"
"Well, someone with Rockgut's resources would be able to cover up the disappearance of the money. But why open up an investigation into it later? And why blame it on the Squirrel?"
"No idea," skipper stood up from the computer, "I'm sorely tempted to break cover and ask him."
"I could set up some mirrors so you would appear to be some kind of ghost…"
"And Rockgut would turn around and say 'stop actin' like an idiot, cupcake'." Skipper smiled fondly at the man's blunt and to the point attitude.
Private poked his head into the room, "Um, Skippah, there's a letter here for you."
"Give it to Rico to incinerate, or if it's a bill, I'll get around to it later." Skipper answered bluntly. There were too many questions on his mind already; he didn't need to have to worry about their financial status.
"It says its super extremely top secret," Private answered, turning to leave, "They've spelt extremely wrong, though. It's missing the 'e' before the 'l'." On hearing this, Skipper's expression immediately changed.
"Wait, Private, give me that letter!" Skipper ordered sharply. Private obeyed, surprised by the suddenness of the request. Skipper snatched the letter from the younger member of the group. Kowalski had only seen Skipper afraid twice before in his life. He recognised that same look now, as Skipper read through the letter, "No… that's impossible." Skipper folded the letter and placed it in its pocket before anyone else could see it. He immediately stood up, his eyes lingering for a split second on the photograph on his desk, before grabbing his coat, and walking briskly out of the apartment, that same haunted look on his face.
In future chapters I plan to bring back Kitka, the Blue Hen and other romantic interests. However, I'm not sure if I should weight the story towards the romance plot or towards the mystery. I'd love your input on this.
I've brought back Barry because I kind of like the charecter, and I only gave him a small part in the previous story.