Trev

"This is interesting?" I asked.

"It is very interesting," Lyn replied.

"Lyn," I said, "This is a business ID."

"Not just any business ID," Lyn argued, "It's the same ID I had when I worked for them."

"It's a business ID," I repeated.

"Look, every once in a while, I to get into private offices because that kept up my cover as a day trader. I used that same company ID to get in."

"It's a flippan business ID," I repeated.

"It's better than what you had," she argued, "'He didn't look right,' really? What do have against my idea?"

"I didn't think of it," I said with absolute seriousness. She playfully hit me in the shoulder. Hard.

"What'd you find?" she asked.

"Well, MDPD uses a node-system for communication," she drew a blank look, "Wow, never thought I'd be the one to explain technology. OK, it's essentially that Miami is divided into 'sections' for police and fire communication. One section for every office or station, police or fire. These sections have comm nodes that are linked like a web. These nodes would essentially look like a gray box on a telephone pole. Should one node malfunction, the slack can be picked up with minimal loss of communication, and it's cheap and easy to repair. However, should a node be shut down, there is about a five minute window between the time that it fails to the time that the slack is picked up. We get rid of the right node, and for five minutes a small section becomes a black hole for the police."

"Get rid of enough..."

"And we can isolate an entire section," I finished.

"What does that do us?"

"I'm thinking we pull a Frowning Freddy."

"Something about this rubs me the wrong way," Patriks said.

"What is it?" Horatio asked.

"It's the fact that Pierce didn't kill Córtez when he was done with him," Patriks clarified, "At Hellbourne, he killed his entire stock of mercs. Why wait until a day later to kill Córtez?"

"I only know where the evidence leads me," Horatio replied, "The evidence says that Córtez died twenty-four hours after he was kidnapped."

"Córtez was a smuggler, right?" Patriks asked, "He smuggles something for someone, who Pierce either doesn't like, or is targetting."

"Which would mean that whoever killed Córtez did so in retaliation," Horatio said, "Where does Reece fit into this?"

"Reece might have been the one to kill Córtez," Patriks said, "Or at least, had a part in it. In this way, Pierce thinks he's, what, helping us?"

"Or kicking a hornet's nest," Horatio realized.

Patriks smiled, "Good thinking," he looked at the whiteboard filled with what they had, "Okay, so let's say that Pierce is kicking the hornets nest. It would explain the kidnapping and murder, Reece, and the attack on the port. What it would not explain is the kidnapping of Robert Claypool a month ago."

"Maybe he needed to find where the hornets nest is," Horatio suggested.

"I'm beginning to like you," Patriks said, "So, he doesn't just take Reece... why?"

"Because he can't?"

"Either because Reece has buddies to back him up..."

"Or it was a spur of the moment decision..."

"Which means..."

"Reece wasn't a primary target..."

"But something to get out of the way..."

"Or to use as bait," Horatio finished.

Patriks nodded, "I'll call up one of my guys in Quantico, tell him to monitor all the Traffic cams along the station."

"They can do that from Quantico?" Horatio asked.

"One of my boys charged 50 high price hookers on the Premier of China's credit card from a dorm in Stanford."

Trev

Tap tap.

Idiot 2 looked up to see my Smith & Wesson 10mm against the glass. Lyn did the same with her Five-seveN on the passenger side to Idiot 1. I smiled genially at them, "Open the back door."

They did as instructed, and we slipped comfortably in the back. It was nice. Audi, leather interior, black body, looked sleek and fast. We kept our weapons trained on the back of their heads, "No funny business. Follow our instructions. And we all sing kumbya afterword, okay?" they remained silent. I fired into the radio, the gunshot deafening in the close confines of the car, "I'm a military man, so sound off."

"Yessir," they said in monotone.

"Give me all communication devices, anything with a GPS," I instructed. They handed over Blackberries and iPhones, "That all?"

"Yessir," they replied, voice still monotone. Creepy. And they lied, too.

"Bullshit," I called, "Another lie, and I have Lyn here kneecap you, and she... goofed... the last time. Accidentally hit a vein and the guy bled out before any useful information could be recovered."

She puckered her lips like a petulant child, "I'm simply dying for another chance."

"Right," even though we planned on her being the Enforcer, it was still kinda creepy, "So?"

They handed over smaller units that looked like black dice. I threw them, along with the phones, out the window, "Now, pull foreward."

"You need to look at this, Boss," a very geeky Asian guy said from the computer screen, "I entered the basic parameters for Pierce, based on algorithims-"

"Miaski, what did I say about words with more than 3 syllables?" Patriks asked.

The geek rolled his eyes, "I typed some magic words and wizard box do magic things," Patriks scowled, but stayed silent. An explanation he could understand was, well, an explanation he could understand, "Look."

A grainy black and white image from a traffic cam picked up a man walking up to a sedan and what looked like tapping the window with his hand. On the otherside, a woman appeared to do the same thing. Patriks focused on the man's face. Despite the bad light and grainy image, Patriks saw...

Him.

Months of chasing down every lead, questioning every friend, enemy, and acquaintance he ever made, poring over bank account records and spread sheets, reviewing mission files, and after action reports and expense accounts and God knows what else and here, in Miami, the first, tangible proof that he was here.

A grainy, black and white photo.

"Who's the woman?" Patriks demanded.

"No clue," Miaski reported, "At no point does her face shown."

"What's her dimensions?"

"I did some calculations, based on the height of Audi, she's about 175.25 centimeters, 61.23 kilograms-"

"For those of us not familiar with the metric system!"

"5 foot 9 inches, 135 pounds. Dark hair, light skin."

"We just described 25% of the woman in Miami," Patriks said, "I want everyone on this. Reread every file, find any mention of someone matching that description. Is Dr Brennan still under surveillance?"

"Yeah," he reported, "She's been in DC ever since the Hellbourne incedent. And her FBI boyfriend is... scary."

"I'm scarier," Patriks said, "Tell Greyson to search over investigative reports for anyone matching that description. When your done, I want Miami shut down tighter than a constipated nun's ass. Nothing, goes in or out without our knowing."

"Eww."

"Track that Audi. I want to know where it is now!"

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