Flash Point Page 10

  Teva stayed quiet, staring at her toes, but if there was any awkward silence in the group, Porter hadn’t noticed it.

  ‘OK, but that’s just it. We only know Scout because Ashlee heard it and we could place the timing of what was said with what was happening on the camera footage to figure out which UNSUB the alias referred to. We haven’t got a clue who Richelieu is unless one of those perps was wearing a red robe and a skull cap and I just missed him the first time.’

  ‘True,’ Saleda said, ‘which is why part of what will be important about this is figuring out why each perpetrator was so named. The character they chose could reflect a lot of who they are – or try to be. Reveal ideologies, personalities. Strengths or background. Maybe their fictional character came from the geographic location where they have family, or a perp chose the alias Porthos because his favorite candy bar is Three Musketeers.’

  ‘So basically what you’re saying here is, if we use virtually nothing to figure out something very specific, then bam! We’ll nab our Gang of Wild Mad Literati?’

  ‘We don’t have nothing,’ Jenna said, chunking a paperclip at Porter. ‘We have lots of little things. We use them.’

  Saleda nodded. ‘And once we have profiles for every member, it’ll tell us a lot about the group. If another attack is coming, it’s on us to put together a map to find the who, what, when, and where to stop it. As we pick the video apart, the profiles or other literary references might intersect and show us what the heck that passage from the Importance of Being Earnest has to do with anything. Because we can ask our word consultant here, but I have a feeling she could ramble all day about Oscar Wilde and still not illuminate anything for us about what the attackers intended us to get from that passage unless we first find something in these profiles or other literary shenanigans that helps us put it into context.

  Porter squeezed the bill of his ball cap in both hands, pushed it down over his eyes as he tried not to talk back. Then, his hands dropped back to his lap. ‘And the Loony Librarian’s going to help us pull that literary context out of our—?’

  ‘Evidence,’ Saleda cut him off. ‘Yes. She is, I hope. We just need to find her a jumping off point.’

  Jenna’s eyes had turned back to the surveillance video, once again following Long-Sword UNSUB’s every move.

  ‘Saleda, maybe that jumping off point can be the sword. Looks old. Medieval, maybe?’

  Saleda took a step closer to the screen. ‘Yeah, I guess. I don’t know a lot about swords.’

  Dodd barked a laugh. ‘Make room, make room. Let the old codger have a look.’

  Dodd leaned in, squinted at the sword in the video, adjusted his glasses. ‘It’s French, by the look of the hilt and the blade. I’d say an infantry sword. Briquet sabre, if I know as much as I think I do. Napoleonic.’

  Jenna’s heart galloped. Stacks upon stacks of classics used the Napoleonic War as a backdrop. She’d been right. The Long-Sword UNSUB would be great as the next UNSUB to try to profile.

  The only problem now was, she had to bring Grey over and try to explain what she needed from her.

  Eighteen

  ‘So, this guy thinks he’s some character from a book?’ Grey muttered, not so much judging as amused. ‘And people think I’m nutsy-cuckoo.’

  Jenna stifled a snicker. ‘Our only clue is the sword he’s carrying. Dodd thinks it’s Napoleonic, a briquet sabre. Infantry issue sword. Does that …’

  Her voice trailed, unsure how to finish. Does knowing that sword cause a book cover to flash in your head like a color might flash in mine?

  ‘What Dr Ramey means is, are there any classic novels set in that era or that use weapons like that?’ Dodd replied.

  Grey nodded, wandering around the room, gazing upward at the ceiling as if it were scattered with nighttime stars. ‘Plenty. Which would you like to hear about?’

  ‘Oh brother,’ Porter mumbled, pulling his cap down over his eyes again.

  Jenna shot him a glare. Maybe they were going at this the wrong way. Expecting Grey to hear about the sword and instinctively know they wanted her to lay out all the options clearly, one by one, explaining the differences between each wasn’t just unfair. It was stupid. Profiling wasn’t Grey’s job. It was theirs.

  To tap into the kinds of connections Grey could make given the literary knowledge she possessed, the team needed to set her up to be successful.

  Do your job. Ask questions. Investigate.

  ‘Grey, what’s the first book set in the Napoleonic era that comes to mind?’ Jenna asked.

  Grey turned to face her, doe eyes wide and honest. ‘War and Peace of course. Tolstoy. Epic story. Hundreds and hundreds of pages of five families. Rich.’

  ‘In detail?’ Saleda pushed.

  ‘No, in money.’

  Porter sniggered.

  ‘And it’s obviously about war …’ Saleda led Grey.

  But Grey had taken a seat at the table and was moving her hands in the air above it as though turning book pages. ‘The French invasions. Greedy man, Napoleon. Wanted every country, so he took them.’

  So, to some degree, a fight about the people in power. ‘Was Napoleon portrayed negatively?’

  ‘Oh, definitely,’ Grey answered, turning and smoothing out a fictional page. ‘He’s a little bit of a fatty, even. Gets a rubdown in his toilet room, almost comical for someone supposedly so mighty. Thankfully the story wasn’t so much about his conquering desires and more about the people feeling them.’

  ‘What?’ Porter whispered incredulously.

  But Jenna was too busy trying to sort through Grey’s strange word choices in order to decipher them to pay attention to how jumbled they sounded.

  The people feeling them? The oppressed? Angry their own were killing and dying? Starving? The terrorists might feel or even be oppressed. Lots of activists feel they are, after all. Decide to take up the cause, do something about it.

  ‘The whole story was about what people felt like while he was trampling their land and killing people. Not just about that though. Also how they felt falling in doggie love all over the place—’

  ‘Puppy,’ Porter interjected, though if Grey heard him, she ignored him.

  ‘—and wondering why they lived at all, and if they did, what it meant. Then, in the middle of war, that Pierre sees a Russian be put to death and thinks some of the weirdest things, given the situation.’

  Porter snickered, and Grey paused, turning to him as if she expected him to stop and ask a question. Jenna glared him down.

  ‘Sorry, Grey,’ Jenna said. ‘You were saying?’

  By then, though, Grey had caught on to the joke and she gave Porter an evil stare before going on. ‘Pierre, I mean. Seeing all those Russians killed. To him, that event itself made the whole war suddenly seem unbalanced. Mad. I’ll give him that. But the weird part was at the same time, he seemed to suddenly formulate in his head that men were all brothers, that mankind as a whole was actually destined to support each other. All the while, he’s on his way to assassinate someone.’

  Existential questions. Interesting.

  ‘Lots of mumbling and grumbling about being rich, then the conquering making them less rich even if they gave the money away themselves. Wasn’t even like Napoleon walked up and stole it. Kind of ridiculous, too, the whining, considering in the end they all end up kind of well-off anyway.’

  A shade of ice blue flashed in. Endurance. Endurance from acceptance. These people didn’t rise up. They endured their hardship as it came to them.

  ‘I don’t think this guy would’ve chosen something like Tolstoy. None of it fits. All the financial carelessness ending up all right kind of sends the message that spiritual richness is worth more than money,’ Jenna said.

  ‘And that might be a plausible message, considering they didn’t steal any of the bank’s money,’ Dodd said. ‘Unfortunately they didn’t give the poor souls any time to reap the lesson.’

  ‘If that was the lesson, they would’ve stolen the
money, old man. To force them to learn money can’t buy happiness and all that baloney,’ Porter cut in.

  ‘Knock it off, you two,’ Saleda said.

  The shade of jumbled iris blue flashed in. They could force War and Peace to fit if they tried, but Jenna’s gut said it didn’t fit right. Certain elements were there if you tossed them around, jostled them to mean what you needed them to. But the result wasn’t neat.

  ‘I don’t think War and Peace makes sense,’ Jenna said, not bothering to worry about whether the others were finished considering the possibility or not. ‘Any other Napoleonic fiction where riches or money are a key element of the plot?’

  Grey tilted her head thoughtfully, stared at the ceiling and whistled a tuneless, single note. The little birdie’s eyes drifted back to Jenna. ‘I suppose The Count of Monte Cristo is a choice.’

  ‘Alexander Dumas,’ Teva filled in. ‘I read that in high school.’

  Porter groaned and rubbed his eyes. ‘Yeah, me, too. And I’d planned to leave it in high school.’

  ‘Well, he was that same age but not in high school,’ Grey said, looking around the room at nothing in particular.

  ‘Who?’

  Her head snapped back to face Porter, who had asked the question. ‘Edmond Dantès, of course. The main character.’

  Porter winced. He leaned toward Teva and muttered something about how they must be on Candid Camera.

  Jenna kicked his shin under the table and nodded at Grey. ‘Dantès, right. He was the captain of a ship or something?’

  Grey nodded absentmindedly. ‘Mr Perfect with the straight white teeth, I’m sure. That’s always how I pictured him anyway. How his buddies did, also. They hated it.’

  Grey was right. It was coming back to her now. ‘Yes, his friends were jealous of him, so they have him accused of treason. He’s arrested on his wedding day, I think?’

  ‘Domino,’ Grey said, pointing a finger at Jenna. ‘The man he lives with in jail ends up being a much better friend to Dantès—’

  ‘Domino?’ Porter whispered.

  ‘She means bingo,’ Jenna spat back under her breath as Grey continued.

  ‘—and before he kicks the bucket, he leaves Dantès all sorts of things, the main one being the place where a treasure is hiding.’

  ‘The island of Monte Cristo! I remember now,’ Saleda said. ‘Then he escapes from prison and uses the treasure to help people who helped him and punish his enemies.’

  ‘He stuck it to ’em for everything from having dollar signs in their eyes to being double-crossing Judases,’ Grey said in an airy voice.

  Auburn vengeance flashed in to match the emotional story Grey was describing. And yet, this didn’t match their scene at the bank.

  ‘We’ve already ruled out revenge,’ Saleda said. ‘Besides, here we are again at that whole robbery-without-taking thing.’

  A deep red color flashed in. Almost brown. No. More purple-ish.

  Jenna shook it away. She didn’t want to lose track of the conversation that wasn’t stopping for her. She could come back to the color.

  Porter looked to Grey. ‘What whimsical adventure into the age where France was run by Louis and Francis and all those other guys with names that sound like my grandmother’s shall we venture into next?’

  Seeing the confusion on Grey’s face as she turned to Porter, Jenna quickly stepped between them. ‘We can’t all have names suited to drinking beer and carrying luggage, Porter,’ she shot at him under her breath. ‘Porter’s right, Grey. Monte Cristo doesn’t quite fit, but one of the elements interested me. The charged political climate during the time made it easy for his friends to frame Dantès for treason. What other books in that time and place focus heavily on the political climate?’

  Grey let out a long, low whistle. ‘All the ones you’re talking about pretty much. We need to tighten the net some.’

  Before Saleda was over her shoulder to ask, Jenna whispered, ‘Narrow the list.’

  Saleda shook her head. ‘How do you narrow a list when you’ve got nothing but a sword?’

  The clack of a phone vibrating across the conference table delayed anyone having to answer. Good thing, too. Jenna didn’t have an angle on this yet.

  Saleda picked up her ringing phone and answered.

  ‘Yeah, Irv. Got it. I’m putting you on speaker,’ she said. ‘Irv thinks he’s found something.’ She pressed the button so they could all hear their technical analyst. ‘OK, Irv. We’re all here.’

  ‘Don’t get too excited, because it’s definitely no assassin club roster, but I did stumble on to a little something I think might be worth looking into,’ Irv said. ‘I was digging around some of the anonymous forums people sometimes use to indulge their various misbehaviors – some harmless, petty stuff, other things a little more deviant. I’ve been able to get beads on miscreants in the past using sites like this because bottom dwellers know they can type angry, foreboding diatribes most forums call ‘threats’ and not get blocked, or show around their stash of kiddie porn without blue lights showing up outside their window.’

  ‘And why is it they know they aren’t getting caught?’ Dodd growled, clenching his fists at Irv’s mention of child pornography.

  ‘It’s the nature of the boards. All anonymous, no names or handles. The posts self-delete, so no records,’ Irv said. ‘So, I did a bit of keyword searching using some of the message from our friends, and it landed me in a cesspool dedicated to political griping. I took the liberty of flagging a poster in that charming little snake pit that I think might be related to the bank butchers,’ Irv said.

  ‘Bank Butchers,’ Saleda said, frowning. ‘Catchy. Almost too catchy. Don’t you dare say those words within ten feet of anything with a microphone, Bluetooth, or a laptop. The group’s already playing BFF with the media. No need to give them a cutesy nickname to help sensationalize it.’

  ‘Point taken, boss,’ Irv replied. ‘But I do think I’d better come down and show you something. Something about this poster’s words. They’re just so darn earnest.’

  Nineteen

  A few minutes after he hung up with the team, Irv entered the conference room.

  He tossed the file folder he’d brought down on to the table. ‘Since you’re all wondering, no, I made sure I took three right turns around the floor before I came in so any Russian sleeper spies would either have to stop following me or admit the tail.’

  ‘So what’d you find that warranted something so formal as printed paper and a folder?’ Jenna asked.

  ‘Eh, I was headed on an errand anyway, so I figured I’d just bring it on my way out,’ Irv said, glancing away from Jenna quickly. Change the subject before she asks. ‘Besides, the post is deleted now, so it’s not like I can just send you a link. Have a screen cap saved, but I thought given the nature of the case being so wordy, having it in hand might be helpful.’

  Jenna picked up the file and opened it, scanned the page.

  Irv headed for the door. They might hash out the crazy exchange he’d just gifted them with all afternoon, but sooner rather than later, the contents of that folder would culminate in a call or text to him adding another billion and five cyber-sleuthing tasks to his plate. If he was going to take care of the unwanted intruder he’d caught in his own cookie jar during that impromptu scan, he’d better do it now.

  ‘I’ll leave you fine agents to the spoils. Have to pop out of the office to take my bowties to the cleaners, but if you need me, you know where to find me,’ Irv said, patting the pants pocket storing his phone.

  A chuckle made him turn around. It was Saleda.

  ‘You take your bowties to the dry-cleaners? Seriously?’

  Irv gave her a playful smile. Too easy. ‘What? I like the way their detergent smells, OK?’

  Teva squinted. ‘But you don’t wear bowties.’

  He grinned. ‘That you know of. Buh-bye, kids!’

  He turned and walked out the door.

  Jenna’s gaze followed Irv out the door, a s
hamrock green she couldn’t quite put her finger on dancing in her mind. Weird. He was always sarcastic, but something about that entire encounter was over the top.

  ‘So don’t keep us in suspense. What’s the forum post say?’ Porter said.

  The shamrock shade drifted away, and Jenna’s mind jolted back to the case. She glanced at the printout of the forum post again. ‘At first glance it’s just a conversation about that Venture Airways flight that crashed this morning. You know the types. My penis is bigger than the pilot’s – I’d have landed that jet on the cliff of the Grand Canyon or some shit like that. Three guys who, from how they talk to each other, sound like they interact regularly. Anyway, at a point, one poster’s rant references The Importance of Being Earnest. Take a look.’

  She laid the letter on the table, and the rest of the team crowded around it to read:

  ANONYMOUS NO. 300672441

  AS LONG AS THE STATUS QUO REMAINS, THINGS LIKE THIS WILL CONTINUE TO HAPPEN OVER AND OVER AGAIN. PEOPLE WILL DIE FOR NO REASON OTHER THAN THAT THE SAME PERSON SCREENING THAT LINE AT THE AIRPORT IS THE SAME GUY WHO COMMENTS ON SOCIAL MEDIA USING PLENTY OF SUPERFLUOUS COMMAS AND SPELLS SUPERVISOR WITH A Z. NOT THAT MR SCREENER MATTERS, CONSIDERING WHATEVER TSA APPOINTEE WHO GRADUATED WITH ALL C’S FROM COLLEGE AFTER A CALL FROM HIS DAD’S GOLF BUDDY GOT HIM IN DECIDED IT WAS TOO MUCH OF AN INCONVENIENCE TO PILOTS TO HAVE THEM SCREENED IN THE REGULAR LINES. TOO BAD HE WAS TOO BUSY SHINING HIS MOST LIKELY TO SUCCEED PLAQUE FROM MOUNTAIN TOWNVILLE UNIVERSITY COLLEGE TO THINK OF SOMETHING AS PRUDENT AS A SYSTEM THAT WOULD BOTH ENSURE FLIGHT CREWS MADE IT TO THEIR GATES IN TIME TO CIRCUMVENT THOSE PESKY DELAYS WHILE MAINTAINING A THOROUGH SCREENING PROCESS TO PROTECT THE FLIGHT SAFETY OF MILLIONS. —M.

  ANONYMOUS NO. 300672442

  DUDE, ACCIDENTS HAPPEN. —IS

  ANONYMOUS NO. 300672443