Philip Rossberg didn't know that SG-1and SG-3 had found an interesting chest on P7X-557 weeks ago. How could he know?
The man, US Air Force second lieutenant, parked his company car in front of 117 Abilene Road. It was a two-floor house in a middle-class residential area. A quiet zone until the AFOSI and the Montgomery County police cars showed up. The AFOSI, Air Force Office of Special Investigation, would carry out criminal investigations that would involve members of the Air Force. Military and civilians would work for this organization.
The lieutenant saw police officers watching the perimeter to prevent curious people from getting into it. Indeed, neighbors were observing the scene and exchanging their thoughts with each other. He walked to the house and stayed by the entrance. Crime scene investigation technicians and AFOSI agents were collecting evidence inside and outside of the house. The agents were recognizable thanks to the light parka with the acronym AFOSI written on the back and the front; the technical experts, thanks to the special suit to prevent them from polluting the scene. Rossberg didn't notice this young female agent, who was discussing with a colleague in the house.
"Hey, Philip!"
Rossberg turned to her. Agent Bankston gave him a soft smile.
"Come on in," the agent invited. Rossberg followed her through the living room while she introduced, "We suspected the owner, Samuel Wyle, to be involved in sex trafficking, so we raided the house this morning."
"It's the first time I'm called on a sex trafficking case… But I think there will be plenty of other first times," Rossberg jokingly said, making Bankston chuckle while they were reaching a corridor. Rossberg was still in the first twenty five years of his life. His scope of investigations would certainly widen over the years. He had joined the AFOSI eight months ago, so, he was still at the beginning of his career.
"As a matter of fact, we figured out that our suspect was keen on another hobby. You should relate to it," Bankston enthusiastically commented. She indicated the direction with a hand. "Come on in, it's in the basement."
Bankston proceeded down the stairs. Colleagues were taking pictures of the basement. The size of the room impressed Rossberg when he arrived behind Bankston. He had imagined a poky room, sloppily lit up, with amounts of random items carelessly lined up.
He would have never imagined such a big room maintained with perfection.
Four lines of shelves were standing in the rectangular place. One leaning against each wall, two in the remaining space, formed by two groups of shelves sticked back-to-back. Multiple different items had been laid on the shelves. The light was coming from two rows of neon tubes, located above the corridors that enabled visitors to wander along the racks. As for the air, it was unexpectedly fresh.
Agent Bankston read the young officer's mind. "Not something we would expect from a pimp, wouldn't we?"
"Indeed."
"Let's get closer."
The two AFOSI collaborators came beside a leaning wall shelf. Rossberg's eyes glowed when he got a clearer view of the items laid on this shelf and the others.
"When I saw this, I knew you'd like it, Philip."
"Your pimp's also specialized in art and antiquities trafficking?" the man asked, astounded.
The room was full of small statues, paintings, small boxes – sometimes with original shapes –, jewelry, and other artefacts.
"I guess he wanted to diversify his activities, like any other wise businessman?" the agent joked.
Philip got it. Agent Bankston had called him to assess the nature and the value of the items left in this basement. He quickly checked with his eyes the rest of the place. He wouldn't get bored. The collector had labelled most of his findings. Philip noticed a table and a chair in the back of the room. On that table, instruments dedicated to a meticulous observation of an item. The room furniture was quite modest, however, efficient. A male voice quickly interrupted Philip in thoughts.
"Here you are, Bankston! I was looking for you."
The agent and the lieutenant turned around and faced an older agent. In his fifties, conveying authority, he didn't seem delighted to see the lieutenant.
"Uh, you're here, Rossberg..."
"Yes, I called him to look into these items," Bankston precised, not perturbed by her colleague's attitude.
"We could have sent them to him," the man remarked, ignoring Rossberg.
"I thought it would have been better if he could see the items by himself right here. The objects may be classified in a way that an expert like him could understand. We're not experts, so..." Bankston raised her eyebrows and shoulders as a conclusion, meaning that Rossberg was the man they needed.
Rossberg wasn't sure if Bankston had said that as a real argument or to avoid any further interrogation because she knew what her older colleague thought of Rossberg. The eldest agent scornfully eyed him. Anybody could feel tension between the two men. The male civilian chose not to challenge the lady's initiative, he just ignored the lieutenant again.
"Well, Bankston, be my guest. I was looking for you because a neighbor has interesting information. Let's have a chat with her together?"
Bankston glanced at Rossberg, who nodded to make her understand he would be fine. Bankston followed the other man. Before leaving, she looked at Rossberg one more time to express that she was sorry for the agent's behavior. Rossberg gave her a "it's okay" smile.