Brice found that the walk was longer than he might otherwise want to take.  The weather was gloomy and Brice may have anticipated more terrible police work, considering the state of things.  Boston had a different smell to it then back home.  The air was thick with something he wasn't quite used to and couldn't put his finger on.  Maybe it was corruption, maybe it was crime.  It seemed to almost be in black and white like some old movie except for the dress store he passed while he walked.  A bright red dress was in the window and it made him think of his wife, Caroline.

A lone vehicle putted past him in the mid morning hours.  Somewhere Jahck and Agent Showalter were examining details that may or may not lead them to the clues while she was afraid of using the gifts she had in the fear that someone might see.  Somewhere else Justin and Agent Short were probably getting ready to raise the dead, a feat that still boggled the mind.  But perhaps no more so than changing the very material of ones body.  Puzzle pieces over the past day were not fitting together, maybe for a reason, but it seemed elusive.  It seemed like he was supposed to be anywhere BUT home with his wife and son.

He pulled up Google and found listings for local cab companies.  He entered the numbers for the three closest into his contact list.  He usually enjoyed the weather in Maryland and hoped that Boston would have a better day tomorrow, if he were here that long.

Before he called for a cab he called the nearest police station and asked where their homicide division was located and got their number as well.  He also entered that information on his notepad.  He did not want to open his lap top out on the street.  He then called the homicide unit and got a busy signal.  He tried two more times before it rang for him.

"Yes, hello?  Is there a supervisor on duty I can talk to?"  He was asked to identify himself and the reason for his call.  He knew that if he simply told them, at this point, who he was then they might have someone call him back later.  Instead he chose to catch their immediate attention.

"Its about the recent murder in an apartment building in District B2.  Strangulation I believe.  The body was found sitting in a chair on the second floor."  He knew that giving details of an active investigation would get their interest.  But since he had not checked the local news he only hoped they were details unknown to the public.

There was a moment of silence and he could almost hear whispers in the background.  He could not hear any clicks but he nevertheless wondered if the call was being recorded or not.  He was then asked to identify himself again, a question he knew would be next.  Though he also knew that the supervisor was probably being called to the phone as Brice spoke.  

"I am Sgt. Jennings from Baltimore County Police Department in Maryland."  He could almost hear their balloon of hope for a new lead in the case deflate instantly.  "I am here in Boston on assignment with the FBI.  I would like to meet with the detectives on this case if possible." 

It was only a moment later that the supervisor came on the line.  "This is Sergeant Poltzinski.  I'd like to bring you in and have a talk, Sergeant."  He said the last word as though it were improbable.  "You wanna tell us where you are and wait around?"

"You must be reading my mind.  I almost just called a cab to come to you."  Said Brice.  He let the Sgt. Know where he was located and said he would be waiting on the sidewalk.  He also gave them his cell phone number in case there were any connection problems. "We really appreciate this Sgt. Poltinski, I look forward to meeting you."

It was nearly fifteen minutes before the car pulled up.  It was an unmarked Crown Victoria and it was one of the detectives from the Homicide squad.  However, she told Brice when she picked him up that she was not involved in the case so I might as well not ask her any questions.  She looked at his ID and asked if he was armed.  When he said yes she just told him to get in. 

The detective took Brice to the Homicide unit.  When he walked in there were several detectives sitting at their desks and two standing at a table obviously putting the finishing touches on many evidence sheets.  The Sergeant was standing outside an office.  He motioned at Brice to come with him and he turned, entering the office.  The other detectives in the room looked at Brice like the outsider he was and make him feel quite uncomfortable.

He put on his most pleasant, professional face and went into the office, closing the door behind him.

He pulled out his card and Agent Showalter's as well.  He handed them over to the Sgt.  The Sergeant had a face like a black pug.  Normally a friendly dog, but Poltzinski had managed to give it a fresh mean spin.  "So?  Why are you handing me some FBI chick's business card?  No, first, I want to know how a Maryland cop knows about this, especially any details about this, and what the hell you're doin' in my town?  And don't feed me any media bullshit, I've got someone who monitors all the news outlets."

Brice's facial expression did not change as he was nearly growled at by the Homicide Sgt.  He simply dived in.
"This whole matter may be bigger than you think, Sgt. Poltzinski.  I have a neighbor in Maryland who is also a Senator.  His son in law, who was supposed to be in New York, was found dead in West Virginia.  The senator and I went to West Virginia to look into the matter.  As you can imagine, the FBI got involved and I met Agent Showalter at the business where the suspects dropped off the body.  By that time I had already gathered a good deal of information that the local investigators had not obtained.

The FBI offered me an opportunity to work with them since I was so far involved already.  Then Agent Showalter was alerted to this incident in your Boston Apartment.  From what we can tell they are the same suspects.  I believe Agent Showalter is looking for anything that might link the crimes.  Perhaps the victims have something in common.  And that is what brought me to Boston, Sgt. Poltinski.  And I believe agent Showalter would rather I work with you than an FBI agent.  When an FBI agent walks into a local agency's jurisdiction there is usually an air of tension where the local agency tries to keep control and authority over the investigation.

Although I may be working along side the FBI at the moment, I am still an employee of Baltimore County Police Department.  I possess none of the FBI's authority and I pose no threat whatsoever to your own authority.  I cannot demand your cooperation, but I can ask politely.  I gave you those cards so you have a good starting point when you verify our credentials, if you choose to do so.

As I just pointed out I have no authority here and no jurisdiction.  You can throw me out on my ear if you choose.  But if we can work together, share information and investigative resources, then perhaps we can help each other catch these murderers."

"Oh, I'll check them out alright.  Sergeant, let me ask you a question.  If some strange murder happens in your jurisdiction and you're wonderin' why you're having trouble coming up with something to get a good lead, and all of a sudden I appear out of no where with some bit of information that you're reasonably certain never got leaked to anyone not directly involved with the case.  Do you think that you'd shake my hand and say welcome aboard pardner?  Or would you suspect something a bit more sinister, because honestly, if these don't come back, I think I've got a stupid killer on my hands."

He snaps his fingers and a detective comes over.  Poltzinski flips the guy Agent Showalter's card and instructs him to look her up.  Give her a call, if he can.  Poltzinski sits down at his desk and taps at his phone.  Poltzinski works his way through the Maryland police operators and officers until he finally talks to Brice's superior.  They exchange a few words, description, last known where abouts, dangers.  He sees a thumbs up from the detective about Showalter and he grumbles as he hangs up the phone.  "So Sergeant, it seems like you're a fine officer who is traveling with an FBI agent.  It still sounds a little more than fishy or bizarre.  What am I not being told?"

"You are right about the bizarre nature of this case.  What you were not told, previous to my arrival, is that the son of a Senator was killed, probably in New York and transported to West Virginia.  That alone brought in the FBI onto the scene.  Now it seems those same killers may have murdered someone in your jurisdiction.  I'm not sure what more I can tell you, or rather, what more there is to say about the nature of the situation.  Well, I can say one thing.  Agent Showalter is good at keeping her sources and possible resources near her.  She has managed to convince two witnesses from West Virginia to accompany her to Boston.  She also recruited me, although I must say that as a law enforcement officer I have a professional interest in the case, even if none of the crimes were committed in Maryland."

"I just need to know if we can work together, Sgt. Poltzinski.  You seem like a very reasonable man who is used to being in charge of his domain.  I do not believe the FBI has any interest in taking over your investigation.  I came here to try and coordinate our efforts.  I hope we will be able to share information and resources to catch these murderers."

"Remember that, Sergeant, I am in charge.  I'm sure you can respect that given our relative positions.  You extend you're olive branch, and I'll extend mine.  I've got some sloppy paperwork, which is uncharacteristic for my team, and a body in the morgue.  What paperwork we do have, handwritten notes and all, we've at least put on a board, if not in the computers yet.  Do we have information on the killer or killers?  Same MO, I'm guessing, as what you found in WV.  Strangulation?"  The Sergeant questioned as he looked at the board of assorted notes and photos and possible links and connections.

"Thank you, Sergeant.  And as I said, this is your jurisdiction.  If the FBI wanted to come in and take over, they would not have sent me.  As for the MO, no, not strangulation.  The senator's son was killed by a bullet to the neck.  But I believe his clothes were probably changed prior to him being transported to West Virginia.  He died of blood loss and there was little blood in the clothes.

Here is what happened in West Virginia:

The body was transported to West Virgina and taken into Adena Caverns just as it was closing up for the night.  A male and a female entered the shop and claimed to have just finished a tour at Seneca Caverns.  But the two of them were not dressed for the cold of the caverns, despite the snow on the ground.  Their statements they made concerning the unvarying temperature of the cavern also seemed to hint that they had not actually been to the Seneca Caverns, though the witness did not catch that clue at the time. The first male identified himself as Leon and the female as Carrie.  When they had reached the top of the drop-shaft the third member of their team broke down the front door of the shop and came in with the body of the senator.  This third person was identified as Eli.

After dropping the body down the shaft Leon tried to kill the witness.  Whether it was a matter of poor lighting or some other trick of fate the witness survived.  He provided the investigators with a detailed description of the suspects.

Early the next morning, that would be Saturday morning, our second witness was in a bakery some distance from the Caverns.  Three subjects entered the bakery and got some bread.  They mentioned that they came from New York, comparing the bakery to one in New York.  They also used the same names, Leon, Carrie, and Eli.  Then the one identified as Leon asked this second witness if he had ever been to Adena Caverns.  And for some reason our witness, suspicious of something but not sure exactly what, took down the license plate number.  Our witness mentioned that he believed that the three really wanted to be noticed or remembered.  Perhaps they were trying to develop an alibi for what they did next."

I caught up with the FBI agents at Adena Caverns in the early evening on Saturday.  I had already made contact with the two witnesses and had them with me at the time.  It was then that the FBI established the link here in Boston.  They had seen the video made by the witness from the murder scene here.  The suspects were the same.  And given the time it took for us to drive here from West Virginia I would say that they could have done it as well, and in time to commit the murder, if just barely.  But it also meant that their target here in Boston was not a coincidence, not some random home invasion robbery or a burglary gone bad.  The suspects murdered your victim for a reason and it probably has some close connection with the senator's son."

He pulled out his cell phone and pulled up his notepad where he had entered the details Justin had given him.  He provided a description of the car and gave the Sergeant the tag number.  "Fingerprints of the suspects were taken from Adena Caverns and are probably in the possession of the FBI at this time.  There may be a flashlight in the car that belongs to Adena Caverns in West Virginia. There may also be traces of the senator's blood in trunk.  What we do not know is how your victim fits into all of this.  We have very little information on him at this time."

"So, now you know a whole lot about our case and some information that may lead you to the suspects.  I have been running hard on this case since yesterday morning.  I have not been able to check the teletype system or NCIC.  Can you tell me if a BOLO has been sent for the car yet?  I would suspect that Agent Showalter would have been on that right away, but I cannot be certain.  I have not even had the opportunity to run the plates through NY MVA yet.  I was hoping you could help me with that as well." 

The Sergeant snapped his fingers when Brice started talking and there were at least two people taking rapid notes while he talked.  Pencil and paper.  The Sergeant rubbed his head with his thumb and forefinger, "Damn it.  Someone get me a tylenol.  And get some of this stuff on this case, filed, why the hell is this is particular so damn hard to get electronic so we can put this shit together?!"

The Sergeant directed staff to get those descriptions into the system so that the license could be tagged and bagged.  Names and possible identities were dropped into another computer to do a host of searches.  Like a nest of ants with assigned tasks the people scurried and crawled overtop of one another to accomplish their mission.  It looked like something that had been orchestrated countless times before.  Action was happening, finally.

Until someone turned the TV in the corner of the office up.  CNN is on.  The shaky camera work shows a news reporter walking out into an open field. The ground has been cleared away and its a sunny day with a cool wind in the midwest.

"This is Angela Luft with CNN, here in northern Nebraska with a man who is only calling himself Luke." Luke waves. Luke looks like a football player or a weightlifter but tall and lean. He has blonde hair and blue eyes and a winning smile. "Luke, you told me that you have the powers of the infamous Johnny Storm of comic book fame, but the world thinks that this is a hoax in the making. First of all, can you convince us that this is not a hoax, and secondly what do you hope to gain by bringing this out into public knowledge?"

"Sure, But I don't need to say flame on or anything," Luke lifts his hand up, the camera has been steadied on the ground and Luke's hand suddenly catches flame. Then the flame goes out and he lights it up again and lets the flame crawl up his arm. Then the flame extinguishes slow back down the arm to his fingertip.

"I have never seen anything like that in my entire life," Luft says. "Harry is that kind of thing possible? You worked Hollywood for a while."

"Well, Miss Luft," Luke says, "this ain't no Hollywood trick. I've watched plenty of movies in my time I've never seen anything like this that weren't done by computers. Get ready to blur a little nudity," he smiles and winks. Luke's body burst into a pillar of flames and his white hot flesh can be seen beneath the shifting fire. CNN pauses a one second delay to overlay some blurred pixels. Luke walks in a slow calm circle and it's clear that his clothes turned to ash. Then he holds up his hand and lets the flames roll back along his arm and he reaches out towards Luft.

Luft steps backwards and trips and falls to the ground clearly a little frightened. The flames turn off in an instance and a naked man kneels down to Luft and picks her up off the ground. Not only does he pick her up but he floats up into the air. His hair changed to a torchlike fire and he spins around with Angela Luft before setting her down on the ground. Luft stands for a moment and then passes out. Harry the camera guy runs out from behind the camera and checks on her Luke takes a step back. "She's ok, just unconscious. The air over here is a lot warmer, I can attest to that."  The cameraman says.

"Now that you know where I'm at," Luke says looking at the camera. "I want to create a team of superheroes. This world needs people like us to stand up and take charge. I know you are out there. I can't be the only one. God doesn't hand out power like this for no reason."

CNN cuts the feed. The anchor at HQ is staring forward slack jawed for several seconds. He shakes his head and closes his mouth, "Uh, that was Angela Luft with Luke from Nebraska, a, uh, superhero. We need to go to commercial break, we'll see if Angela is alright when we return. What the hell do you want me to say, did you see that?!" CNN cuts to a Life Insurance commercial.

"Wow!" said Brice.  "I can't believe CNN would pull a stunt like that.  I know their ratings are taking a beating from FOX, but damn!  It's almost as if they've given up or something.  It's like they are using the worst sort of metaphors for the death of their network, a 'Flash in the Pan', or 'better to go up in flames than to fade away'."  He comments audibly to those around him as he waits for the results of the systems checks.  

His comments are the only sound in the room.  Several faces turn towards him.  The system was cranking hard at the information to get back all available information and display it in the police force proprietary format.  "That shit is messed up.  I told you I wasn't seein' nothin' when that kid walked through the damn wall.  You have got to believe me now.  That guys remark at the end... he wasn't expectin' to see that!"  One of the detectives say to another.

"CNN as a dying network?  That's bull!  That wasn't no April's fools.  Someone like that goes rogue, you think a bullet will still drop him?"

"Damned if I know.  That's straight from the comic books there.  Better keep him well paid and well fed to make sure he is on our side.   Nowaddaimeen?"

Brice turned to one side.  "I'm sorry, did you say you saw someone walk through a wall?  Really?  I'm having a hard time believing all of this, fellas.  I mean, what the hell?  How do you stop someone who can walk through walls?  A bullet might stop fire boy, assuming that's all he can do, but...well, damn.  So all this stuff is real?"

He turned to Sgt. Poltzinski.  "Have you encountered any, um, I guess you might now call them super villains?"  Then  he motions towards the other detective.  "Oh, right, some guy who walks through walls.  This is really happening?"  

Brice thought about it for another minute.  The room seemed to be filled with a mix of excitement consisting of wonder, fear, and even a little anger.

"Well, at least the human torch there has declared himself a super hero, that's something.  And he wants to gather other...what are people calling them, Supers?  He is trying to gather others like him to oppose those with powers that abuse or misuse their own.  If this really is happening, then the state and local governments had better come up with some sort of recruiting program to hire and organize the good ones.  The better organized they are the more effective a response they will have against the bad ones."

He sat back in his chair.  "People generally fear what they don't understand, and someone like that appearing on the street could cause a lot of fear.  If they are real, I hope the government embraces them rather than rejects them or persecutes them.  If they are real then our reaction to their existence is going to be very important."

He shook his head and rolled his eyes.  "Damn!  I can't believe I just said all that.  You guys are really making me start to believe this is real."

He hoped the information would come back soon from the MVA and all the other systems checks.  He would rather be discussing the case.  But in some way he was interested in how these people reacted to the existence of people like Brice.

"What would you do if one of your own suddenly developed super powers?"  He asked Sgt. Poltzinksi. 

The sergeant looked at Brice as if processing the miniature monologue in his head, "What would you do?" He turned the question back on Brice and then looked at the screen.  "Leon Fingoli.  Lots of stuff you'd find in mafia movies on his resume.  I bet if we run a cross search we'll find some associates.  Pete, get on that, and get some of this crap into the computer.  Why the hell is this place going to pot?  Brice, my office," he points and starts walking.

Sgt. Jennings followed him into his office.

Poltzinski closes the door and sits behind his desk.  He rubs his head a little bit and then pulls open his top drawer and takes out a pill bottle.  "Aspirin.  I don't know about you, but this job always winds up giving me headaches."  He opens a mini fridge and pulls out some Gatorade, some grape frost flavor.  "You want some?"

"No thanks.  But I know how the stress can get to you."  replied Brice.

Leaning back in his chair a little he looks calm, "So what would you do if you found someone you work with suddenly found out that they were something like you saw on the tv?  Or perhaps if you yourself found yourself like that on the tv?  What would you do?"  Poltzinski's gaze was piercing and unwavering.

Brice sat down after his host did and leaned back.  But he sat forward when he answered the question.

"Hmm.  Ifs amount to exactly nothing in this world, you know.  Mere speculation, supposition, and fantasy.  But thinking about it now, if it were real, I would have to give it real thought.  Hmm, I suppose if I found out one of my officers had some sort of super powers I would try to organize a special response team with him, or her, as the focal point.  The team would respond to super villain incidents and any crime involving such people would be referred to them, like a burglary or homicide unit and Tactical team all in one.  Not sure what I would call it though.  But I can say that I would do what I could to recruit others like him, or her."

He sat back as he considered the other half of the question.  "But, I suppose, if I found out that I had such powers myself?  Well, I would probably do what I could to keep them a secret until I determined what the world's reaction would be.  I would not go off and join Mr. hotpant's gang of superheroes, not likely anyway.  I would want to belong to a more organized group.  Government funded and organized, either locally or state run.  If I found out that my department was forging a specialized task force, recruiting superheroes to deal with the super human threat?  I would most likely be the first person to raise my hand.  But that's me.  The good guy, the Eagle Scout."

He leaned forward again.  "So, how about you answer those same questions."

"Ifs are how a detective does his job.  Such as, If someone who came into my office was like that guy on tv and was also a sergeant way out of his precinct, what should I do?  If he's violent, I don't have a chance.  I sound an alarm and hope for the best.  My wife'll collect enough to move to someplace better should I die in the line of duty.  If he's not violent then I have  chance to maybe figure out what the hell is going on.  FBI is involved, could be government, but I don't think they'd allow the human torch to light up on media.  Nor would it explain the large number of similar 'rumors' that have been floating around for the past month or so.  Sergeant Brice, I'm not going to answer those questions.  I do not have anything different about me today as I did yesterday or everyday before that.  Nor do I suspect anyone in my office either.  But I've got a few more years on you and I've been doing detective work a hell of a lot longer.  You've got something to hide and you don't hide it well.  If anyone one of my men ask me a question about you, I'll blame it on you being an out of towner, but I've traveled more than any of them and I know that people is people no matter where you go.  The only thing I don't see in front of me is the cold hard fact, but despite not having the picture to look at, I know an outline of a puzzle piece when I see it."

Poltzinski slams back the Gatorade and rubs his temples and sighs, "I wouldn't do no damn task force or any of that crap.  I'd kick him off the force, at least in the immediate.  That thing we saw will draw some sensationalism, and anyone publicly like that will also.  It downplays the effectiveness of the people who've been doing the job like having one superstar on a basketball team.  And eventually that superstar believes that they are the one that did all the work without the help of the team.  If the human torch and those like him," his gaze falls again on Brice, "are an anomaly and their numbers are few, the structures of society may have to rebuild around those individuals, but if it becomes common, then I'd pull my men back together and figure out how to work again with new tools."

"Hmm.  You seem to think I have some special power or ability?  I'm not sure why you think that.  If you know something I don't, please let me know.  And if I suddenly gain the ability to fly or turn invisible, I'll let you know.  But I think it is rather short-sighted of you to simply dismiss someone or suspend them out of hand like that.  I'm not sure what their lawyer would say.  If I gained some super power and was fired...well, I'm not sure I would do, but I would certainly be pissed off.

Anyway all of this is conjecture, mere fantasy really.  What do we have concerning this case?"

Brice was feeling a greater level of animosity from this man that he thought was reasonable.  Brice was not a detective, though he had done the educational, study work to get the position.  He had been told that a position might open up any time, so he had been patient. The problem is that his rank would mean he would be a supervisor for detectives, if he got the job.  Not having been a detective as an officer put him at a disadvantage against other candidates.  But one could only hope.  
But of one thing he was certain, ifs had no place in the field of investigation.  Investigators dealt with hard facts and possibilities that became facts later when more information and evidence is obtained.  Ifs are most certainly not how a detective does his job!  But he was not about to challenge a career detective supervisor on this irrelevant point.

"So, the car belongs to Leon Fingoli?  That's a good start.  NYPD will probably have a great deal of information about him."

The detective looks thoughtful.  He stares long and hard at Brice.  "Alright, play it that way.  I'm not often wrong.  Leon Fingoli and whoever his associates are will be the best starting point we have.  NYPD are probably sending information to our computers right now."

He types onto his computer and pulls up a few emails.  "Here it is, in fact," he swivels around a dual monitor so that Brice and himself are looking at the same information.  The wrap sheet is pretty solid.  He's been caught and convicted and let go over and over and over again.  Lawyers, probably.  He associates with some powerful families in the areas from New York to Chicago.  He is suspected in an even longer list of crimes without conviction.  After November of last year, it all seems to stop.  While he may have decided to be nice for Christmas, his past indicates that come January he wouldn't have been able to stay out of trouble that long.

His loyal bodyguard is a guy named Eli O'Patrick, and his girlfriend is Carrie Mundson.  A quick look at their wrap sheets puts them in proximity of Leon about the whole time.  They drop off the map too about the same time.

"Well, looks like we have them, I suppose.  Do you have anything on the victim?  He seemed like a recluse, only used cash, no computer or internet associations, that sort of thing.  Yet it's hard to believe the murder was random, and the standard motives don't make sense."

"Nothing on the vic.  Enough digging should turn something up.  With mafia connections on Leon, what motive do you need?  It was a hit.  Probably wasn't even personal.  Leon just doing his job.  With nothing much on the guy they killed I can guess clearly enough that he was just trying to stay alive and off the radar of anybody at all.  Enough time passes and the guy could probably get out of the country and live a normal life learning to speak Portugese."  The sergeant starts to get people on the various portions of the case that is necessary.  The wheels seem to be turning but slowly.

"If you are hopping around hoping to catch these thugs then hopefully in less than a day, we can have a sighting and you can start the chase.  If they are in town, then we'll put out an APB and get them caught.  All in a day's work, right?"

"Right, all in a day's work, and about time I get back to it.  Can I get a printout of what you have on Leon and his two associates?  I will talk with Agent Showalter and get her to provide the connection between these three and your victim.  I will call you or your office here and get that information to you as soon as possible."  He pulled out his cell phone and copied her name and number on the back of another one of his own cards.  He was about to suggest that his detectives run comparison prints between any they pulled out of the victim's apartment and these three thugs, but he didn't think the suggestion would go over too well.  The man seemed to know his business and was probably already on top of that.

Brice had papers in his hands in less than five minutes and in less than 10 an impounded car found its way to the front of the station with a set of keys.  The explanation was that the car would not have an owner claim it in about 10 to 20 if he was behaving himself.  Brice would still have to get the car back, but it was free to use in Boston for what he would need to do.

Brice gave his thanks and said his farewells.  When he got into the car he examined the registration and insurance.  He had never heard of any such arrangement for an impounded car.  He saw that the vehicle had a temporary registration for the local government of the city of Boston, which was self-insured.  He was glad that some government agencies had some common sense.  He was not comfortable with the explanation he was given, but he was sure there were some lines of communication that had to have been crossed and misunderstood along the way.

He called Agent Showalter.  He had to find out where to meet her and the others.

"Showalter," she answered waiting to here Brice's voice as a confirmation.

"We're back in the apartment.  I'm not seeing any bugs and I've checked out the neighboring places.  They've been vacated.  I've given Jahck a taste of what you saw in the caverns.  He's seen a couple of things.  But not over the phone.  We'll be waiting.  There's still no word from Short and the kid."

"Look, the locals do not seem too friendly though they helped me drum up some information we needed.  They also gave me a loaner car, which strikes me as a bit odd."  He had been looking at his watch.  He had wanted to keep the call under a minute, which was how long he figured it would take someone to trace it.  But she had already said where they were so the point was lost.

"Where do you want to meet?"  He asked her.  He wondered at the significance of the vacated apartments. 
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