Victim number three was a Hispanic male in downtown Los Angeles. This murder had confused the task force. Instead of following the set pattern, a semi-automatic rifle shot from a building, the killer had borrowed the tactics of gang bangers from the inner city. As Mr. Mario Arturo, candidate for representative in the state of California, walked from his front door to his car, a sedan, this time black, had driven past, with a shotgun firing out the window. Arturo, who’d been expected to win the Congressional seat, had died before he hit the ground. There had been only one witness, who described the car, but had been too close to get a license plate. This killing had left hard feelings between law enforcement and the Hispanic community in California, feelings that increased as neither the police department, nor the FBI offered any hope of catching the killer.
The last victim, before Dabir, had been killed in Atlanta, Georgia. Doug Wilson had run a community center in a black neighborhood. A white man, he was initially mistrusted by the people he was interested in helping. Slowly, though, he had managed to prove himself, and the neighborhood had rallied around him when he fought against the drug dealers who openly plied their trade. For six years he had worked to create a community among the people, finding ways to keep kids off the streets, and help many stay in school. He had denounced many officials in the Atlanta area when they cut funding for many social programs. His intention, he announced, was to run for the city council in order to reverse those funding decisions. When the list of potential victims had been handed to the task force, Wilson’s name had been number four on the list. He had been the second on the list to die when his car blew up in the parking lot of his apartment complex. The FBI investigation team, which had originally included Ken Thomas, had determined that the bomb was triggered by the vehicle ignition. When parts of the bomb were found and examined, it had fit no known bomber profile. Once again, there were few clues. A couple of people remembered a blue sedan that they had never seen before in the area, one with tinted windows. One woman said it had been in the parking lot the night before the bombing, and that she had seen a young white man with brown hair climb into the car. Sketches had been made, and compared to the very vague description of the individual seen in Baltimore. They had not matched.
Realizing that there was little, if any, new information on the other four investigation fronts, Alex began to relax. She leaned back in her seat, finishing her soda, and wondering why the deputy director had really wanted to sit in on their meeting. This was certainly not anywhere near how the task force usually conducted itself. In another room, down the hall from this one, they had set up a contol center, where they met at least twice a week. The walls in the room were covered with sheets of paper. The paper was in turn covered in names, dates, places, and other facts pertaining to the murders. The names of all the potential victims were on one long list next to the door. There were several computers in the room, along with other office equipment. During their meetings, the agents would find seats somewhere in the room. If it was a full crew of sixteen, there would always be a few people on the floor, or leaning against the wall. They’d review what they knew, and look at what they needed to know. After that, there would be brainstorming on what roads the investigation should take.
Background checks on the victims had yielded few results. Fingerprints on the rifle found in Baltimore had been negative, as had all fingerprint tests in Atlanta. There were no footprints found, and no tire tracks. Ken had traced a few of the Atlanta bomb components, but they had been sold at several discount hardware stores in the city. Cash had been paid, and no one had any memory of who bought them, or when.
The most productive line of inquiry, surprisingly, had been the list itself, but even that had given the agents little in the way of clues. While the letter attached to it had been delivered to the Washington Post, and the people who had handled it had left many fingerprints on it, they had also found several fingerprints that had not matched any of those known to have touched the letter, nor did they match any civil service employee. Also, the fingerprints had been found on both the letter and envelope, which ruled out the letter carrier. Other than that, however, there wasn’t much. The post mark was from Georgetown, an exclusive area of D.C. The return address had turned out to be a closed gas station earmarked for demolition.
Alex’s thoughts were dragged back to the present when she realized Cliff and Deputy Director Bishop had stopped the meeting. Bishop was thanking everyone for their time, and said that he’d present what he’d heard to his superiors. He left, and the room was silent for a moment.
“Asshole.”
The muttered word from Cliff broke the tension in the room, and many of the agents chuckled.
“All right. We’ve wasted most of the morning, and I have phone calls to make. Everyone get some lunch, but be back here this afternoon ready to work. We’ll meet in Task Force Central, and put some new sheets on the walls. During lunch, try and study Alex’s report; we’ll go over it in depth later. Any questions?”
“Yeah, ” David said. “Only Alex’s report? I handed mine in.”
“Yes, David, I know you did. But we both know you only copied Alex.”
This brought more laughter from the agents. “Not all of it, Cliff. I mean, I changed a few words here and there.”
“Yeah, like the name on the cover sheet.” More laughter. “All right, get out of here, get food, read the report, and I’ll see you at one.”
Alex gathered her papers and followed David down the aisle and out the door. Cliff was waiting for her, and pulled her aside.
“Your Coke.” He handed her the bottle. “Great job, by the way. All the facts set out, plain and simple.”
“Thanks. I don’t think Director Bishop liked it, though.”
“Don’t take it personally. The guy probably slept through most of it. He’s been known to sleep with his eyes open.”
They laughed.
“By the way, Alex, what time you plannin’ on leaving tonight?”
“I don’t know, Cliff, depends on when we finish the session, and when I get a couple of reports I’m waiting on. I should be getting a phone call from Philly at some point.”
“Well, if you can stick around till six, I’d appreciate it. One of my connections finally came through, and I’ve got someone from the CIA coming in. He won’t come during business hours, though, so we agreed on my office at six o’clock. I’d like you to be there. I’d ask David as well, but he insisted only one agent.”
“That’s fine. I can be there at six. Do you mind if I at least let David know? That way he’ll know to expect me at his place if we get anything important.”
“Fine. Just let him know that I could only have one of you at the meeting. I chose you ‘cause I thought he’d want to get home to his wife. After all, you two were gone for quite a while.”
“Yeah, we were. Wait, what are you saying, you chose me because David has a life and I don’t?”
“No, no, absolutely not.”
“Good.”
” It’s just that lately, your job is your life.”
“Oh, thanks, Cliff. You better watch it, I still have plenty of vacation I could use. How’d you like to lose me for a couple months?”
“I wouldn’t. If I promise you another bottle of coke at the meeting, would you delay that vacation?”
She grinned. “Oh, I see your game now. Offer Alex a Coke, and she’ll do anything.”