Chapter 6
Old time twangy country played from the Jukebox and the air stank of beer, body odour and nicotine in unhealthy quantities. The floor was worn to tatters. The walls were stained dirty from the constant haze of smoke. Every chair and table in the venue had seen better days. The bar itself, seemed to be badly in need of sanding and re-varnishing and the bottles on the back shelf clearly hadn't been touched in a decade, the layer of dust was that bad. There ought to have been a health warning above the door to this dive. If it were known by the "regular" folk, it would have been condemned years ago. Of course, only a certain clientèle ever stepped foot through it's door. And that, was the reason he was here. Those who frequented this establishment, ran in circles that had shady dealings and illegal practices. But that also meant, they could go places he couldn't and find out what he needed to know...and one man, never declined to help him. As was normal, Miles found him sat at the far end of the bar and silently settled on the battered stool beside his. With a casual nod to the barkeep, a brown bottle was dug from the fridge, the cap twisted off as it was set before him. His companion didn't take his gaze from his own bottle.
"I wondered when you'd show up." The man said, his voice soft but with a deadly note beneath the cool exterior.
"So, you heard what was going on then?" Miles took a pull of his beer, grimacing at the cheap bitterness of it.
"The whole city heard." His companion replied, mimicking the move, before setting his beer down lightly "You seek those responsible, right?"
"Yes, I do"
"For that woman?"
"Does it really matter?"
"It matters to me, seeing my fellow kinsman wasting his time and energy on a woman, who only sees him as a tool to be used." Blood red eyes flicked to stare at Miles, simmering anger swimming in them "When will you accept it?"
"There is nothing to accept Scar." Miles stared back with like colored eyes "You and I both know it is impossible to control the heart."
"It's not your heart that is the issue, it's your damned head Miles." Scar turned back to his beer, taking a long pull and setting it down with a clack.
"Like your one to talk, pining over that whore." With a sneer, he grabbed at the bowl of pretzels on the bar "You know she isn't the same woman as when you were younger."
"She is not your concern" Grabbing pretzels he crushed them in his fisted hand "Lets agree to leave it for now, I don't want to fight with you over females."
"Fine with me..." Another moment of silence and more drinking "So, have you heard any information down the grapevine, regarding the incident?"
"There have been some whispers. Talk of a man, a specialist..." Scar looked forward, as though gazing through space and time "...name is never mentioned, but..."
"But what?" Miles prompted his friend "What sort of specialist is he?"
"Do you recall our time on the battle field?" Those red eyes, once angry, now looked melancholy.
"I do, though I try not to let it overtake my mind." Staring at his beer bottle, his mind drifting back to when he and his friend had gone through hell together.
"The things we did there, haunt me to this day. But...I can never forget him." Scar closed his eyes, lowering his head "You know of whom I speak my brethren."
"Him?" Miles knew alright, all too well "Are you telling me, that crazy sadistic son of a bitch is connected to this somehow?"
"So say the whispers. They say when he returned from the battle, he went into business as a mercenary. Earning his living from killing." Another long pull from the bottle and Scar had finished it "The thought of it, sickens me."
"He always was a tricky customer to deal with. But to have to cope with him killing for a price tag..." Miles shook his head and pushed the bowl of pretzels away "We can't let him do this any longer. He needs to be stopped, Scar."
"Miles, you do what you need to." Getting to his feet, patting Miles's shoulder, Scar started out "I for one, do not wish to entangle myself with that twisted excuse for a human being."
Watching scar leave the bar, Miles could only wonder how, he was ever going to stop the mad man. He needed to figure it out, to be clever, to be devious and to think just a little like his quarry. If he was to deal with this, before Olivier could. That was one factor against him. Another, were the cops. But the one that really pissed him off...was Greed.
"I can't allow him to win." He muttered to himself "I have to put a stop to their deal."
Miles headed out the bar, crossing the busy street, he yanked the car door open and slid in. With a hard slam, he closed the door and jabbed the key into the ignition. As he pulled away from the curb, he started to run down all the possible places he could find the man he now sought. Crazy as he was, his target was also predictable in some ways. Having a penchant for random outbursts and sly motives, he was also very anal about his attire and the company he kept. So Miles would start with the clothing. It was the easiest option. It wouldn't take too long to gather a list of the more exclusive mens clothing stores in the city. Then he would simply visit each one, till he found the one that had dealings with that guy. Gripping the wheel tighter, the car sped up and Miles got a picture in his head of the man he had to find. That smug grin. The slicked black mane. The glimmers of evil swirling behind those cat like yellow eyes. That creepy laugh. Yes, it was going to take all his knowledge and all his testicular fortitude to handle this. To handle him.
God help him.
000
He felt on top of the world. Literally. It was like floating or being weightless in space. Well, he had heard you were weightless in space. He had never been personally, but he could swear he was there now. Only space seemed to be noisy, not soundless. But as a fringe benefit, so it seemed to him, this noisy version of space or heaven or whatever one would call it...it was full of gorgeous women in nurses uniforms. His brow tried to crease and failed, in his mild frustration. He could normally charm the pants off any sexy woman or hot guy. So how come he was failing at every try? What was he doing wrong? Every cute nurse would give him a sweet smile, till he tried one of his pick up lines. Then they would get this odd look and walk away trying to stifle a laugh. Still frowning, Jean tried to puzzle it out in his mind. There had to be a reason for it. But what? They had left him alone for a short time now and when the curtain to his cubicle slid open with a tiny screech of the metal rings against the pole, he turned a goofy smile in the persons direction. His eyes settled on a sight that made the goofiness vanish in a micro second and the frown return.
"Ahh man." Jean said, not even hearing the slur to his voice "Not'choo. Your go-anna cwamp my shtyle bosh."
"I hardly think your style will be cramped at all, Havoc." Roy stepped closer, resting a hand above the pillow and the other on the safety rail "Your words are coming out like your drunk or suffered a stroke."
"I do nof shound like am dwunk!" Jean retorted, in a comically slurred fashion "Your phull o'ship!"
"Hardly..." Roy looked him over, frowned down at the currently doe-eyed blonde "...your the one who looks like shit, at any rate."
"Pfft!" Jean chuckled a bit, then winced "A've worsh bosh."
"Really? I dread to think what you class as worse Jean." Roy's eyes met the glazed azure pools "What the hell happened to you?"
Just as Jean was about to attempt to reply, a woman came in wearing a long white coat, a stethoscope hanging around her neck and a patient chart in her hands. She looked at Roy, then narrowed her eyes behind her thin rimmed glasses. She knew his type. The "Get the bad guys at all costs" type. A man who cared little about the people working under him. Her immediate suspicion, was that he was only interested in the details and nothing more. She hated people like that.
"Sir, your going to have to leave." She said flatly, her brilliant blue eyes tainted with disgust "Mr Havoc is recovering from some rather less than minor wounds."
"Look doctor..." Roy scanned her coat for a name tag, finding none.
"Rockbell, Sara Rockbell. I am the attending physician to Mr Havoc. At this point in time it is only family who may visit him." There was a toughness in those eyes and strength in her voice.
Confident women. Roy Mustang's one weakness.
"Doctor Rockbell, I am Jean's superior. I came down here to find out from him just what happened so that I can start to track down the perpetrators. I have a right to be here, on official police business." He stood straight and held her gaze, playing her at her own game.
A test of wills.
Jean was so doped up, he just smiled in that goofy way again. He figured he was in for a show.
"I know who you are sir and I know your type also." She set the chart aside and crossed her arms under her breast "You uniform junkies are all the same. You don't care a bit about your colleagues lives only the solving of a case."
"Well, you certainly have a low opinion of law enforcement." Roy smirked, seeing it annoyed her, his smirk widened "I guess you have only had contact with other precincts. At mine, those at the top of the chain, take care of the ones under us and in turn those below them."
"Save it. That smirk doesn't work on me, I'm immune to such pathetic tricks." Sara glared daggers at him from across the bed "And as to your claims, I don't believe a word of it."
"That is entirely your choice doctor." The smirk vanished, concern spreading over his face "What injuries has he suffered?"
"I'll tell you what I can and then you have to leave. Understood?" That glare only got more heated.
"Yes ma'am, loud and clear." Roy smiled "Now, his injuries?"
"Mr Havoc sustained multiple contusions to his face and torso. He has lacerations on his lip and abdomen, most likely due to some weapon such as a knuckle duster." Flipping the chart open, Sara continued "He also suffered three cracked ribs, two to his left and one to his right, along with a burst blood vessel in his right eye which will remain blurry for a day or two yet. And finally he needed to be treated for slight smoke inhalation also, due to his proximity to the fire."
Roy blinked, taking in every word. He couldn't believe someone had the gall to do this to an officer. Let alone to one of his men.
"And how long will he need to rest in order to fully heal?" He asked, looking up to see a stunned expression upon the doctors face.
"I would say, at the very least six to eight weeks, one of which is to be total bed rest." She replied, as though her brain was on automatic.
"I see..." Roy looked down at the still grinning Jean "...well Jean, you idiot, looks like you get a paid vacation from this mess."
Jean just grinned more, his eyes no longer so glazed, but clouded with fatigue. His lids became heavy and slowly drooped shut. The doctor leaned over and checked his vitals. There was a soft, barely audible sigh of relief from her.
"He's sleeping. It can take awhile for the Morphine to knock some people out." She looked down at him "He's been hitting on or trying to hit on, every nurse, orderly and doctor who passed by his bed."
"Heh, sounds just like Jean." Roy chuckled, a fond smile spreading over his face "He's known as the station flirt. He's always trying to pick up women. It's part of his charm, I suppose."
"His charm?" Sara looked up at Roy, puzzlement on her face.
"Yes, but that is what helps to make him a great detective...he uses that talent to calm hysterical people."
"That sounds nice and creepy all at once." She laughed a little, then composed herself "At any rate, I have rounds and other patients to see to. I answered your questions and Mr Havoc is resting, now please leave."
"Alright." Roy reached into his pocket and pulled out a card "This is my number at the station, please contact me if anything changes with Jean."
"Yes, I will." Taking the card she slipped it into her pocket "I have to say, I find it odd that a cop cares at all for his subordinates. It's rather novel."
As the doctor walked away, Roy took one last look at Jean. He was going to get to the bottom of this. Whom ever had hurt this man, was going to pay. Justice would catch up to them, kick their ass's and throw them behind bars. Yes, justice in the form of Roy Mustang, would meet out some serious jail time.
That is...after he opened a whole keg of whoop ass on them.
Strolling out the hospital doors and into the sunshine, he felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Roy was familiar with that sensation...he was being watched. Carefully looking around, he could see only visitors and some hospital staff. But that feeling persisted all the way to his car. Sliding in behind the wheel, he sat there, scanning the parking lot. No one popped out. They all looked to be normal people, who either worked there or was visiting someone there. As he pulled out of the lot, he tried to forget the feeling. He had a job to do. Getting side tracked by his own suspicious nature, wasn't going to help catch the culprits who had beaten Jean.
As the black car set off down the road, the watcher grinned. He wasn't contracted to kill the Captain. But it sure would be fun, he thought, to carve him up some and then use him for a test dummy. A bomb test dummy. Testing his newest toys on stray animals, just wasn't cutting the mustard any longer. He needed a live specimen. One that would scream and yell, in pain and agony as piece by piece they were ripped apart. Oh the mere thought gave him a shiver of pleasure. He wanted it so badly he was practically salivating over it. He had already planned, a very fitting experiment, for the man who he was currently working for.
If nothing else, he would have his fun and earn his fee and then claim his bonus at the very end.
Dissecting Basque Grand.
Opening him up and smearing his blood everywhere in that prissy apartment of his. That dog ugly, pompous, self gratifying man and his atrocious taste in décor. Yes, he would take his time and enjoy every last scintillating moment of it. With a chuckle, he went on his way, whistling a cheery tune, in the summer sunshine.
He would have his fun. Soon.
000
By mid morning, the restaurant was heaving with the Brunch crowds. Nearly every table was occupied and the wait staff were run off their feet. Rebecca waited for the Maitre'd to finish his course around the dinning room, so he could attend to her. There were a few familiar faces, a wave here and there, but she wasn't thinking about whom she knew. Not really. After an exhaustive search of Roy's apartment, she had returned to where they had dined the night before, to seek out her missing silk scarf. She couldn't quite recall where she had put it. Though, to be fair, she had had a difficult time just finding her panties, let alone her wayward scarf. Smiling to herself she recalled the night before after they left the restaurant. Rebecca had been adamant to herself, she would not fall for Roy's charms and be lead to his bed. However, she could never have bet on how persuasive the man could be. And in such pleasurable ways at that. A faint memory tingle raced over her stomach. Those long slender hands, had skimmed over her stomach, finger tips playing a silent tune on her flesh and making her arch up for more contact. He had lulled, caressed, teased and tortured her senses to heights she never knew existed.
The mere memory of it all, made her skin break out in goose bumps and her clitoris throb with need. Good God, she wanted him again.
"Mademoiselle? Pardon? May I help you?" The Maitre'd asked in a strong French accent, giving her a funny cock-eyed look at the way she stared and her cheeks hinted of rouge.
"What?" Blinking, Rebecca was suddenly back in reality "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, my mind was wandering. I came in to ask if a silk scarf had been found here."
"You leave behind perhaps? When did you dine with us?" He brought out a brown leather bound book and began to search through the pages.
"Perhaps, I'm not quite sure. I was here last night." She told him, watching him flipping pages.
"Merde." He said after a few moments "There is no scarf listed here. I am terribly sorry, Mademoiselle."
"Oh I see, well then I must have left it or lost it elsewhere." With a soft huff of frustration, she smiled at the man "Thank you very much for checking sir."
"Avec plaisir, Mademoiselle. I am sorry it was not here." He told her as she turned to leave.
"I'm sure I'll find it at some point or wind up buying a new one." She said over her shoulder with a pleasant smile.
Making her way back towards the main doors, she passed numerous tables with chatting people seated at them. She was even stopped once, by someone she knew, for the obligatory "hello, how are you?" and so on. It was as she neared the slightly sheltered area behind the planter wall of ferns, that a snippet of conversation caught her attention. Stopping and pretending to search for something in her bag, she trained her hearing onto the mens voices. They seemed to be having a hushed, yet heated discussion about something.
Something, her instincts told her, that sounded like trouble.
"The rest of the board feel your becoming a liability Basque! You have got to stop whatever ridiculous plan your setting into motion!" One of the men ground out, his tone seething yet shushed.
"I will do nothing of the sort! Have you forgotten? You tossed me out! Removed me from the inner circle! And for what? Because I had the gumption to aim higher than you and that pitiful bunch of useless cowards!" The second man retorted, much angrier and who's deep baritone was akin to a shock wave blast.
"You left us little choice in the matter! Your methods where highly questionable, to say the least!" A fist thumped on the table, rattling the silverware and glasses "You should be thankful all that happened was your removal! I had to convince them you would not cause further disruption if they simply let you go!"
"Thankful!? Your out of your tiny mind Clemin! I fail to see my removal as anything but a betrayal and a disregard of my ideas to make the company more productive!" That baritone went a scale lower, a threatening malice laced in it "I am aiming for more than you pathetic morons could ever dream of...I will own this city. And those who oppose me will be mown down for their cowardice."
"Your insane Basque. Insane. You cannot go around ordering people killed to suit yourself or your needs!" Clemin ground out, the sound of defeat in his voice.
Clemin knew...he would never convince him to stop.
"I can do as I see fit. If someone or something is in my way, I simply remove it." He rose from the table, tossing his napkin down "If you or those fools get in my way, you will be cut down."
Clemin watched as Basque Grand stalked out of the restaurant, leaving him to foot the bill. Rebecca had been listening in, while sifting aimlessly through her bag. Grand had passed right by her, not even giving her a second thought. For that, she was relieved. Though Roy never discussed work while with her, she was familiar with the ongoing cases at the precinct. It was her job and knowledge that told her, this information needed to be passed on to the right people. Just before she started towards the door once more, Clemin walked passed her. Even holding the door open for her like a gentleman. By the time she reached her car, he was already driving away. She ran over the portion of conversation she had heard in her head as she drove. Clemin had mentioned something about having people killed and that Grand was orchestrating the hits. So that could be a lead for the cops to follow in their search for the perpetrator of the murder currently top of the pile for Captain Mustang.
She knew that Clemin was the current head of the Van Guard Institute, the company that had been working on top secret projects for the military for years. She also knew, that he was the youngest of the board of directors. She hadn't known, however, that Basque Grand had once been a part of that board. She knew of him through his own dealings with the city mayor and the police chief commissioner. Grand was always show boating in public. Making sure that anyone and everyone, knew his name and that he was not to be trifled with. Though, she had attributed that last detail to corporate blacklisting and aggressive take over tactics. Murder had never even popped to mind. Until now. Though she wasn't a celebrity fiend like most socialite women, she made it a point to stay abreast of the developments in the business sector. It was just part of her make up. She always had to know what the movers and shakers were up to. Legal or not. Of course, working in the crime lab, meant she gained an extra edge from her knowledge. Her expertise may have been Ballistics, but people didn't always need bullets to cause harm to another. To Rebecca, knowledge was power. And she preferred to have the power as opposed to not.
Pulling into the precinct parking lot, she smiled at Denny as she passed him. The day had been pleasantly lovely, but now a dark ominous cloud was drifting in from the north-west and it threatened the city like a swarm of Locusts bearing down on a crop. She made her way inside the building. As was usual, it was a buzzing hive of activity. Passing Booking, she took the steps up to the Pit quickly. Riza and Maria were on the reception desk. Smiles and nods were exchanged. Captain Hughes was once again flaunting pictures of his daughter, much to the dismay of his team. It seemed odd to her, that Roy's blinds were all drawn. Rebecca rapped once sharply on the door, before entering and closing it behind her. Roy was at his desk, looking stressed and generally pissed off. He was currently on the phone, most likely to the police commissioner or possibly press. Either of those, were enough to put Roy into a hell of a bad mood. Cocking her left hip onto the corner of his desk, she simply waited for him to finish his call. Relaying what she had overheard, was priority right now. Her scarf could wait.
"...yes sir, I fully understand that this matter does not reflect positively on my department." Roy listened to the voice on the other end of the line "It is my top priority to get to the bottom of this incident sir. I assure you, I will not let this fall to the wayside."
"Make sure that you do Captain. An act this heinous cannot go unpunished." The commissioner said, the faintest hint of disgust in his voice "I want you to keep me abreast of all the developments on this Mustang. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir, I will be sure to report to you periodically on our progress. Captain Hughes is in charge of the incident involving Detective Havoc and my men are focused on the murder investigation." Roy rubbed a hand over his face, looking bedraggled and exhausted.
"Very good. Update me with any new information by the end of the day Captain." Grumman said with authority, that came from years on the job.
"Yes sir, count on it." Roy replied, before placing the receiver back in it's cradle and slumping back in his chair "Damn. This whole mess with Jean has put a blemish on my departments perfect record. That idiot."
"Well I'm sure he never intended to get himself beat to hell and back, Roy. You know him as well as anyone, he follows his instincts." Rebecca smiled, resting a hand on the desk and leaning a little "Just the way you taught him to be."
"Granted I taught him to follow his nose and to be thorough, But I never taught him to get himself hurt. That fool." Combing a hand through his hair, Roy settled a light smirk on his lips "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your beauty in my office Rebecca?"
"Stop feeling guilty about it. What happened is not your fault." Her smile vanished "Sadly this isn't a social visit Roy, I heard something a short while ago that has me worried."
"Worried enough to come straight to me with? That must be serious." Bringing his hands to the trade mark steeple pose, Roy narrowed his eyes "What did you hear?"
"Clemin, the youngest member of the board of directors for the Van Guard Institute, was having a heated discussion with Basque Grand." She frowned, folding her arms under her breast, as she crossed her legs.
"Clemin and Grand?" Roy blinked, this news surprised him "What the hell would they have to discuss?"
"Well apparently, Grand was once on the board of directors at the Van Guard..." She began.
"A board member?"
"Yeah and from what I got there was some uncertainty about his code of conduct, so they let him go."
"I see, so he may have an axe to grind."
"Didn't seem that way to me." she continued "Seemed to me, that Clemin and the board were not pleased with the antics Grand was getting up to."
"What sort of antics?" Roy frowned.
"The murdering kind. From what I heard, Grand has been having hits put out on people."
"Hits? That's definitely not good." Roy thought a moment "You think he could be connected to this murder at the Armstrong Research facility?"
"I'd say that was a safe bet. But Roy..." She looked worried again "...it sounded like Clemin wanted him to stop and he refused to. Threatened Clemin with being cut down if he got in his way."
"Well that certainly warrants investigation. I'll have Hughes look into the details, and if we find something, I'll have Falman go pay him a visit." Roy's concern turned to a devious smirk "This could be the break we need Rebecca."
"Yeah, thought it was best to let you know right away what I had found out...plus..." She glared at him "...I wanted to find my damn scarf. It was pure silk and not cheap."
Roy chuckled deeply, rising he pulled open a drawer and took the scarf out, before moving closer to her.
"I found it on the front seat of the car this morning." As she took hold of it, he refused to let go, moving into her personal space "In all this mess, the memory of last night, brought a smile out of me."
"Oh did it now?" She looked into those deep dark pools, feeling that tingle crawl across her stomach again "Well it was definitely a memorable experience."
Roy leaned in close, brushing his lips across hers, catching a waft of her scent. His free hand skimmed up her ribs, causing a delightful shiver beneath his finger tips and her breath to hitch. Letting go of the scarf, his hand swept into her dark locks and cupped the back of her head, as his lips claimed hers for a sultry kiss. A whimper. A low groan. The tango of silken tongues. A thumb brushing teasingly across a cloth covered nipple. Rebecca could feel her body start to quake with need, warm wetness and a throbbing clitoris, combined to intensify the subtle eroticism of the moment. The danger of some one walking in, only making it that more thrilling. If they had been anywhere but here, Roy would have followed his bodies wants and needs, to take Rebecca and slowly devour every inch of her soft caramel curves. But now was not the time, nor the place for such luxuries. He had a job to do and a dangerous criminal to catch. Before it was too late.
Drawing back a bit, Roy slowly let his eyes open to gaze at the woman he desired. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her own lids still closed and her chest rising and falling with short panting breaths. She looked beautiful to him. He only wished it were the end of the working day, so he could coax her to his bed again and sink into her luscious velvet. To drink of her. That smooth liquor, that any man would be an addict for and crave the whole day long. He intended, that night, to drown himself in that delicious nectar.
"As much as I want to continue this wonderfully arousing moment with you, darling, I have work to do." A soft peck to her lips and a whispered promise "But tonight, I'm going to lavish you with all you deserve and more."
"Mmm, big words Roy..." Smiling, giggling softly as she teased his lip between her teeth to nibble it "...you better live up to them. Or I may have to dump you."
"Rebecca..." Roy groaned, a sound that he knew sounded needy "...I promise you, this will blow last night, out of the hemisphere. Please don't torture me with the threat of being dumped by the most alluring Ballistics expert in the city."
It was exactly, what Rebecca wanted to hear. She was skilled at making men, strong men, putty in her hands.
"Live up to those promises Roy..." She nipped his jawline and down his neck a little "...and I'll let you keep seeing me."
Her giggle burst from her, when she saw the pained look on his face. It was priceless. No other man, to date, had been so hooked on her as to do whatever it took to keep her on his arm and in his bed. This one, could be a keeper. Maybe. They would see, she thought.
"Uhrn, you...are such a tease, Rebecca." Now he was the one panting, she certainly could make his pulse race.
"But you love me that way Roy." With a wink, Rebecca shifted from the desk and out of Roy's space, making for the door she turned, blew a kiss to him "See you later handsome."
With that, she was gone. Roy was left alone in his office, with the stiffest hard-on he had ever experienced. How he was going to focus on his work, he didn't know. But he sat back down, wincing a little as his tailored pants drew tight around his groin. If it didn't settle down soon, he was going to have to head for the gents and jerk himself soft again. Which would test his ability to be quiet when he came, hard, which was undoubtedly going to happen. As if to make matters worse, Riza entered the office with a stack of paperwork. Roy's face fell. He loathed paperwork. However the mere thought of that which he loathed, soothed his aching member.
"Your timing is impeccable Riza." He chuckled, but then sighed when the press line rang "Mustang."
"Captain Mustang, Kristen Koulter of the Zusyrion Times. I was hoping you could give me a statement as to the progress of the investigations into the murder of Mr Shou Tucker late yesterday afternoon and the attack on Detective Jean Havoc sometime in the early hours of this morning." Came the determined and perky voice, rattling off the request in double quick time.
Smart, thought Roy, lay it out before I have the chance to hang up. He hated reporters, almost as much as paperwork.
"Look, Miss Koulter, I have gotten the same general questions all morning..." Roy rubbed his temple "...and my answer is the same as it has been for all those other eager press hounds. No. Comment."
"But Captain, surely the public has a right to know if there is a dangerous killer on the loose in the city and therefore protect themselves. As an officer of the law, you have a responsibility to..."
"As an officer of the law my responsibility lies with doing my job and catching criminals to protect the public. It is not, and never will be, to divulge pertinent information regarding an on going case or cases." He said, stern strength in his tone, a subtle message for the reporter to back off.
It seemed to fall onto deaf ears. Or stubborn ones.
"Without public assistance, how can you hope to catch this madman before he kills again? And what measures are you implementing to ensure this matter is swiftly resolved? In such a case wouldn't it make a substantial difference to the outcome, if the general public were to act as the eyes and ears on the ground? They do outnumber the police officers twenty-to-one."
"Miss Koulter, I believe I have already told you, no comment and I stand by that ruling. As to the need for public awareness, informing the general populace at this early stage, will do nothing but cause panic and lead to unrest. I will not have that in my city." Roy told her bluntly "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Thank you for your call."
"Wait Captain! Are you saying you truly believe your protecting the city by not releasing the information about a dangerous killer?" She persisted.
"Goodbye Miss Koulter." Roy reached out to put the phone down.
Kristen's voice seemed to shrill from the ear piece, as she tried in vain to get even a nugget.
"But Captain, what about your moral responsibility! What if the perpetrator kills a child? Or an old man? Or..."
With that, the room fell silent.
"Reporters. They drive me crazy at the worst of times and irritate me at the best of times." Roy said, to no one in particular.
"Sir, they may annoy most of the time, but you've always known how to manipulate them when needed, to achieve a positive result." Riza told him, setting a note on his desk.
"Yes well, it comes with territory having to deal with those vultures." Picking up the note he read it and then set it down "So, they finally let him home. Lets just hope he stays there."
"I believe, sir, they have arranged for a home nurse to watch over him for a week..." Riza smiled a little "Pinako Rockbell. A formidable women, who's son married Jean's doctor from the ER."
"Is that so? Heh, well then I have nothing to worry about." Resting back in his chair, he rubbed his chin in thought "Have Hughes look into the possible connection between Grand and Clemin, also let Falman know that he needs to look into the mercenary want ad's. Sniff around to see if there is any truth to Grand ordering hits on people who are in his way."
"Yes sir, anything else?" Riza asked, after jotting it down on her pad.
"Just that Falman is to go over to Jean's, catch him up and try to get a coherent statement from him about how he wound up beaten and his car torched. And if he has any clue who did it to him."
"Consider it done sir." Riza said, heading out of the office.
Roy settled back to his work, his previous problem hard-on was long forgotten and sleeping once more. There were some nice fresh leads to follow. Maybe even a few avenues not yet tapped. His gut told him that the reporter, Kristen Koulter, was going to become a headache all too quickly. She was the type, the dog with a bone type, who would keep on chipping away at his patience till she got what she wanted.
A juicy story for the front page.
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