They're inbound," Commissioner Sewell said after placing her cell phone down on her desk.
"Great," said Annelie Bodin's attorney, who had arrived late, though still earlier than his client, and taken the seat next to Rita. Rita had never met a blind lawyer before, had very little experience with blind people in general. Her experience with lawyers was mostly the professional variety; that is to say she considered them all ambulance chasing skid-marks on the underwear of society that they represented, and that she and her detectives arrested on a daily basis.
"Sorry I was late," Matthew Murdock, attorney at law, said as he felt his way to his chair and folded his collapsible cane, "I had trouble finding a parking space."
He's certainly better looking than his colleagues, and has a sense of humor at least, Rita thought.
"Not flying in with your client, councilor?" Rita asked him.
"No, not privy to her current location," the attractive lawyer answered, "and I'm not a fan of helicopters."
"Fear of flying, Mr. Murdoch?" the Commissioner asked.
"No. Fear of crashing, Commissioner."
Rita looked across the wood and glass coffee table at Abby and Sax, who looked back at her. None of them had relaxed a muscle since entering Keechant Sewell's office, and it wasn't the extra warm July weather that had the three of them sweating in this 69 degree air conditioned office.
"Jesus, relax, would you please?" the Commissioner asked them, "You're making me nervous just watching you. I became a cop in '97. We're all cops here."
"Sorry, ma'am," Rita said, still sitting ramrod straight.
"Fine," she said with a heavy sigh, "why don't the three of you go up to the roof and meet them. You can bring them back once they get here. Mr. Murdoch, would you like to go up to the roof to meet your client?"
"No thank you, Commissioner. Fear of heights."
Jesus, what's he not afraid of? Rita wondered, and how the fuck does a blind man know how high up he is?
"Fine," she replied, "bring her down once she gets here," she said to Rita.
"Yes, ma'am," Rita replied as the three of them stood, yielding a shake of her head from the Commissioner.
It was hot on the roof of 1 Police Plaza as a helicopter began to approach the helipad on top of the building, and it was clear as the rotary wing aircraft drew closer that it was no ordinary helicopter.
"What the fuck is that?" Abby asked, "It looks like something from Bladerunner."
"Jesus, look at that thing, it looks like a work of art," Sax replied in awe as the gleaming wine red aircraft with dark tinted windows touched down.
The pilot idled the engine, the rotor slowed but did not stop as the two coach doors on each side of the aircraft opened and four people exited, two heavily armed men, each equipped with a Sig Sauer MPX automatic weapon, a Sig Sauer P226 pistol, a tactical vest, and a facial expression that indicated that they meant business, and two women that Rita recognized immediately.
The two armed men placed themselves between the two women and the three detectives.
"We were expecting the Commissioner to meet us personally," one of the men said.
"I'm Lieutenant Rita Ortiz from the fifteenth precinct," Rita said as she showed the man her shield, "These are Detectives Archer and McGuire. They're investigating the murder of the flight crew."
"My name's Mark Everett," the man said, his automatic weapon remaining at the ready but the muzzle pointed down at the roof. Rita was certain by his look that it would take him only a fraction of a second to raise that muzzle and kill Rita and her two Detectives if he was so inclined, "my instructions were to deliver Ms. Bodin to the Commissioner personally, or to remove her to a secure location."
"The Commissioner sent us up here to wait for you," Rita said as the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up.
This is a bad start, Rita thought.
"But you're not her, ma'am, and I can only deliver Ms. Bodin to the Commissioner."
"We can take you to the Commissioner, but you can't bring weapons into the building," Rita said.
The man raised his left hand to his ear, his weapon held now only by his right hand and the tactical strap that went around his torso.
"Prep for exfil," he said into his comm unit as his partner used his left hand to signal for the two women to reenter the helicopter whose engine began to spin up again as the rotor speed increased.
"Sir, she can't leave until we've asked her some questions," Rita began to say.
Rita had been correct. It took only a fraction of a second for the muzzles of two automatic weapons to come up and point at the three Detectives.
Shit
"We're leaving," the man named Mark said to Rita down the barrel of his deadly flat black weapon, just as the helicopter engine began to idle, as the rotor slowed again.
"Copy," Mark said after his hand returned to his ear, and his weapon lowered.
"Well," said a woman's voice behind Rita and her two colleagues from the 15th squad, "you made a fucking hash of that, didn't you?"
Rita turned to see the woman who had joined the force the year after Rita had, and had only a few years ago become Commissioner of the NYPD.
"Sorry, ma'am."
"It's the Viritech H6 Redwolf," said the voice on the speaker phone in the Commissioner's office after the Commissioner herself had asked, "What the hell is that thing parked on my roof?"
"It's the special operations version of the H6 Skywolf. It's hydrogen powered, with a range of about 400 miles, so only good for short hops," Kyle Richmond replied from his office where he sat, not too many miles away from where his aircraft was currently parked.
Jesus, what's a long hop? Rita wondered as she continued to look at the two armed men who stood against the wall behind Annelie Bodin and her girlfriend as the six women sat at the long conference table.
"I want one," Keechant Sewell said into her phone with a smile.
"They're probably out of the NYPD's price range, but if your nice to me, I'll give you a ride."
"I bet you will," she replied with a grin.
Holy fucking shit is she flirting with him?
"Later, Keechant," he said before hanging up, not giving the Commissioner a chance to say goodbye.
"He's not big on long goodbyes," Commissioner Sewell said as she held her cell phone in her hand and stood up.
"I'll leave you to it," she said as she looked at Abby and Sax before turning to Rita, "remember she has a flight to catch."
"Yes, ma'am," Rita replied.
It's not like they're going to leave without her.
"It was worth a shot, but I hadn't expected her to know anything," Rita said as the three of them had a late lunch at the Royal Bangladesh Indian Restaurant just a short walk from the precinct building, "they weren't staying in the same hotel, and she was out and about the whole afternoon."
"We should still talk to the guys who were with her," Abby said.
"Your case," Rita said with a one-shouldered shrug as she lifted another forkful of Chicken Biryani to her mouth, "your legwork."
"Think the letters are connected?" Sax asked as she scooped up some saag paneer with a piece of naan.
"Have to be," Abby replied as she cut a samosa in half and dipped one half in mint chutney, "too much of a coincidence if they weren't connected."
The three women ate quietly for a few moments.
"You see that fucking helicopter?" Sax asked.
"You see those fucking weapons?" Abby answered.
"I saw them, all too well," Sax said.
"They have good reason to be suspicious," Rita said, "four people dead. Four skels in custody. Who knows what they'll do next."
"Why not just snatch her from the car?" Sax asked.
"Security aside, the traffic in Manhattan on a weekday afternoon is not ideal for a quick escape," Rita answered, "They get her onto the plane, they can be out of US jurisdiction before anyone knows something is wrong."
"She seemed calm during the interview, her girlfriend too," Abby said, "maybe too calm?"
"She's an actress," Sax said, "she could have been acting calm."
"No," Rita said, "that was the real thing."
"I know," Sax replied. She had enough experience interviewing suspects to tell when someone was putting on an act, "it's just a little odd. I'd have thought she'd be more upset."
"She's had some time to get it together, and she has her emotional support Barbie Doll with her, which must help," Rita said.
"She's not a Barbie Doll, is she?" Sax asked.
"She's too perfect. She screws up the curve for the rest of us. That's what I meant," Rita explained.
"She looks like she spends her entire day in the gym," Sax said.
"Her looks must be her best quality," Abby said, "she didn't say two words the entire time."
"To be fair, we didn't ask her anything." Rita said.
"What would have been the point? She had a migraine, and spent most of that afternoon in their hotel room," Sax said.
"Lucky for her that no one broke into their room looking for Annelie Bodin," Abby said, "she was by herself. Both bodyguards were in the limo."
"Yeah, but you have to think they were following her, and knew she wasn't in the hotel."
"You said she seemed fine at the benefit," Abby said to Rita.
"Yes, she was fine. Before, during, and after. It's a weird coincidence that the four of us were at the same benefit."
"How does Kyle Richmond fit in?"
"Richmond Enterprises owns Powhatan Security Services, in addition to a good chunk of New York. They're the ones that Universal Studios hired to supply her the bodyguards."
"So you, Annelie Bodin, her girlfriend, and Kyle Richmond all attend a benefit showing of one of her movies, you file out with the rest of the riff-raff, Kyle Richmond stays for the private meet and greet, you get word on your way home, but it takes an hour or so more before they get word, and she is placed into private protective custody."
"Sums it up. And who are you calling riff-raff?"
"Swedish Embassy been informed?" Abby asked.
"Should have been by now," Rita said as her phone vibrated and she read a text.
"John says the studio has sent copies of the letters Annelie Bodin received."
"No letter delivered to her hotel here?" Abby asked.
"No. Looks like they had moved past sending sick letters."
"Yeah. Now they're sending kidnappers and murderers," Sax said.
"One of whom has a pretty bad concussion. Another has some sort of depressed fracture of his skull. He was struck in the temple with something. Could have been a 9mm rubber bullet," Rita said.
"This is bad, I know it. It's gonna end bad. I hate it when you know. It's like the fucking universe is taunting you. It's going to shit, and there's nothing you can do. Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah," Abby said.
"Have a little faith, baby," Sax said to her partner, "she's safe. She just flew off in the Starship Enterprise. And she's got a small army protecting her."
"Bet her girlfriend is wishing she picked someone else to keep company. Not the vacation to the States that she was expecting, I'll bet."
"They seemed pretty happy last night," Rita said, "but that was before they found out."
"But she already knew about the letters her girlfriend was getting, and she still came, so maybe she's more than just eye candy," Abby said, "but I agree, looking to date someone who attracts psychopaths, is not at the top of anyone's dating profile."
"It depends," Sax said, "is the psychopath rich?"
"It's not the psychopath you're dating, you freak show. God," Abby replied with an overabundance of exasperation as she shook her head and returned her attention to her lunch.
"Right."
"We should do this more often," Rita said.
Two hours until end of shift, three days until the next dated entry on the encrypted DVD; the DVD that conveniently omitted a rather large device that was looking more like some sort of weapon of mass destruction each passing hour.
"It could be some sort of rocket, at least part of one," the bomb disposal guys said initially, "That building was tall enough to assemble a small one, maybe thirty feet tall, and the roll up doors were tall enough for them to get it outside."
"Shit," had been her only reply.
"We'll know more in a couple of days."
"What about all those canisters?"
"That'll take longer. Feds are taking over that part of the investigation, but we're asking the Japanese Public Security Intelligence Agency for help. They handled the Sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway in 2001."
Sarin. Jesus.
"Got it. Keep me posted. Keep the Chief of D's up to speed as well."
"He calls us every half-hour or so already."
"Rather you than me."
"Thanks."
"Lieutenant, the Commissioner's office asked you to call back," John Irvine said as soon as Rita was off the phone.
"Jesus, what did I do now?" Rita said as she picked up the phone.
"Commissioner Sewell spoke with Commissioner Gordon of the Chicago Police Department," Commissioner Sewell's assistant said, "Commissioner Gordon has been briefed on the situation. Ms. Bodin, her associates, and her new flight crew will receive extra security during their stay in Chicago."
"Good to hear. I'm sure Ms. Bodin will appreciate that."
"She will also have a private security detail once she arrives in Chicago."
Jesus, with that many people surrounding her, how the hell is she going to film a movie?
"None of them are talking," Detective Third Grade Michael Woodruff said as he stepped into Rita's office with his partner James Kilik.
Rita still found it hard to look at either of them and not see the troubled young men they had both been when Rita had first met them. Both of them had chosen careers in law enforcement due mostly to the help they had received from detectives in the 15th squad, detectives who had also served as role models, and surrogate fathers to the two youths.
"But we got matches on some of their tattoos from The Vault," Detective 2nd grade James Kilik said, "The men posing as flight crew had an assortment of standard Russian military tats. The other two had a couple very particular tattoos that are popular among the Chechen and Bruyat population in northern Russian prisons."
"Bruyat," Rita said.
"Think Mongols, and you won't be far off," Woodruff said.
"Mongols, as in Mongol hordes?"
"Yeah, those Mongols."
"What are they doing trying to kidnap Annelie Bodin?" Rita asked, "and why kill her whole air crew to do it?"
"Like I said, they're not talking," Kilik said, "though only two of them are conscious. I don't think the other two will be any more conversational."
"But the obvious motivation for what they are doing is that they are getting paid to do it," Woodruff said.
"They'd have been dead the second they delivered her," Rita said, "No way anyone who could hire this done would leave any witnesses."
"No, huh?"
"Unless they're not just simple mercs, not just hired for this job, one and done. Unless they're part of something bigger."
"Yeah, the mob doesn't off their button men after only one job," Kilik said, "These guys could be part of some sort of organization."
"An organization that kidnaps world famous actresses for, what, the high end human trafficking community?" Woodruff asked.
"This rings a bell, but I can't pinpoint it," Rita said.
"My Dad used to say When you get older it's your hearing that goes first, or your memory, I can't remember which." Kilik said.
Rita knew that when James Kilik said Dad he was referring to Eddie Gibson, who had been a detective with the 15th squad, and who had become James' foster father during a very difficult period in James' life.
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
"Four Swedes dead. Four Chechens or Bruyats with their heads bashed in, and in custody," Rita said, "plus these nightly vigilante raids."
"And whatever the warehouse is," Kilik said.
"Three days until the next big event," Rita said, "which means, if the pattern holds, that the next raid will be late night, two days from now."
"So who gets to sit on the location two nights from now?" Kilik asked. He was almost five years older than his partner, but Mike Woodruff was a quick study, and had learned a lot from Jimmy Kilik, "Abby and Sax are on the hotel murders, Joe and Ray are at the task force."
"Not a lot of choices left, are there?" Rita said, "Guess I'll give it to night watch."
Rita was able to hold out for less than five seconds before bursting into laughter.
"The look on your faces!"
