Addicted In Cold Blood (9 page)

“My name is Agent Bryant, and I will be briefing you on this case.”

He sat next to her, causing his light cologne to tantalize her senses.

Pay attention to what he is saying, please...but damn he’s fine! These are just nerves. I’m trying to distract myself.I can’t believe I’m acting like this. It’s cool, I’m cool. Get your shit together, Jayme...

“Great. It’s nice to meet you, Agent Bryant.” She gave him a firm handshake, the kind that would make any man proud.

“Likewise,” he grinned as he adjusted his tie, loosening it ever so slightly from around his neck. Agent Peterson and Agent Brown sat down directly across from them. The sound of pouring water ran in the background like a tinkling waterfall, as Agent Bryant continued on.

“Now, as you know, your supervisor, Captain Jasper, explained, we requested one of his officers to assist us with this case. We need someone on the inside track, someone that knows the people in the neighborhood, someone that these people trust. We understand you have an exemplary record, a stellar reputation, and you have quite a bit of experience with working directly with the public, which has allowed you to build relationships with everyone from local business owners to your common, street hustler. Do I have that correct?” He grinned again, this time with an obvious flirtatious twist.

You are the damn FBI. You know all about me by now. You probably even know the last time I took a piss...

“I do know many of the people and I grew up here, so,” she shrugged, “people know who I am but I also work in disguise—and during those times, due to the excellent job of a professional theater make-up artist friend of mine, my own mother doesn’t even recognize me... I know, I tested the theory.” She chuckled. It was an attempt to make the two stone pillars trying to pass themselves off as men grin a bit. It worked.

“Exactly.” He patted the table, showing his straight, pearly white teeth. “We like that, we like that a lot. You took it upon yourself to get professional help to get the job done, not just rely on the police. You went above and beyond.” He grinned again, the flirtation still heavy in his smile. “In this situation, however, we need you to be just yourself. No make-up needed...just the natural you.”

Jayme nodded. Her stomach began to knot as her nerves got to her again. She was star struck. These were the type of guys she’d always wanted to grow up and be, never dreaming it could be possible. Nevertheless, the man’s subtle flirtations weren’t because he was genuinely interested—or hell, he may have been, who really knew?—but because he was trying to create a vibe, a safe scenario, and Jayme immediately recognized it as such. She was no dummy, and was fully aware that they required her street savvy reputation—something that couldn’t be purchased, trained, rented or downloaded like a Netflix movie. You either had a rapport with the people of D.C., or you didn’t. Like the murderer the FBI wanted caught, dead or alive, it was soon realized that Jayme was a triple threat. She was savvy, excellent at her job and could morph into whatever character was required. She had this on lock. Period. Point. Blank.

“So you see, Officer Knight, this is how’d we approach this. We have taken over the case and would like to give you some preliminary information.”

“Of course.”

She folded her hands over her knee as Agent Bryant rose from his seat and approached the front of the room. Heavy cream curtains mechanically drew, shrouding the light on the sixteenth floor of the building, cloaking them in matte darkness as the light from a projection screen illuminated. For the next hour, Jayme was given confidential, insider information regarding the serial killer, ‘XXX’.

“There are no eye witnesses that are willing to come forward. If you look at just paperwork from your department, and our preliminary investigation, you’d think no one saw anything, ever. There is no way that someone could commit these sorts of crimes, some out in the public eye, and not be seen. So, we know witnesses exist—and that is where you come in.” He pointed at Jayme, a stern look on his face.

“The only description we have is vague, and it’s from a fuzzy security camera shot from two years ago. He is described as 6’2, cropped black hair, possibly Hispanic. Broad shoulders, angular face, dark eyes. We believe this man, or team, has been all over the world, even
Russia, committing similar crimes. The murders have become more violent in recent history and the victims are always branded with three ‘X’ marks either on their face or neck. Ninety-two percent of the victims are big time drug dealers, Officer Knight. This man is somehow able to get close.” He shook his head and paused as if he were emotionally taken aback. “We don’t know if these are vigilante kills or if there is another objective at work here. Whatever it is, we have to figure it out as it will help us capture him. Before I continue, do you have any questions?”

“You said ninety-two percent of the victims are involved in the drug trade. We lost two men because of this man—two men that I knew.” Jayme hung her head, temporarily masking her anger, then looked back up, her eyes narrowed. “Who makes up the remaining eight percent?”

“Well.” Agent Bryant pushed his hand in his pocket and sighed. “The two officers you mentioned, another police officer in L.A., a limousine driver in New York, a prostitute in Amsterdam and three gang members in China, who, from what we can tell, were not dealing narcotics. All of our international information comes from the C.I.A. There are also a few more, but they fall into one of those categories. And, for all we know, there could be more; that is what makes this all the more difficult. No one wants to be involved, no one on the street wants to snitch, especially against a drug dealer and his posse, dead or alive.”

Jayme nodded in understanding.

“Officer Knight, this is a very dangerous mission. One bad move, and there is no doubt in my mind, he will kill you. From the way these killings occur, he doesn’t have a propensity to hesitate. He doesn’t show fear or remorse. In spite of how many crimes he has committed, he is still being quite careful, which is not customary. Everyone has a downfall, however.”

“Yes, everyone, even this person, or people, can be caught.” She tossed a glance toward the other two agents, then looked back at Agent Bryant.

“We are hoping that the marks he leaves on the bodies demonstrate a need for attention. A person who is driven for recognition wouldn’t want their crimes to go unnoticed or the wrong person to be given credit.”

“And obviously you don’t want to give a false news lead to the media that the murderer has been apprehended, because that could backfire and cause a slew of more murders so he could prove you wrong.”

“Exactly. We toyed with that but it’s a slippery slope. At first, it could work out in our favor. It could force him to mess up—and we catch him or force him to alert the D.C. police of their error, which of course we’d want, but that could also force him or someone from his group to more than likely kill again to prove the false claims to be, well...false.” He flipped to a slide, showing the number of murders committed in each country around the world.

Jayme stifled her reaction, but she felt her stomach churn.

This bastard is unbelievable.

“And that is just the tip of the iceberg... We know for a fact that there are at least twenty-three bodies missing. We cannot yet determine if he did it or not but they were all drug dealers and killed around the same time frame as others in the vicinity. Before we continue, I want to reiterate that nothing we speak of is to go outside of this room.”

“I wouldn’t, never.”

Agent Peterson cleared his throat, causing Jayme to look in his direction. He cupped his chin, deliberating long and hard before he spoke. “Officer Bryant has laid out this preliminary information for you, but I want to say right here, for the record, that if by chance, Officer Knight, you get lucky,” a slight smile budded across his face, making Jayme rather uncomfortable, “and find yourself confronting him...be careful. Be very careful. Don’t try to be a hero. Make sure you call us. Don’t try to take him down by yourself. Don’t even approach the man. As good as you are,” he shrugged, “you’ll fail...and you’ll die. No disrespect, but you’re just not capable to take him down solo. Yet you’re perfect for our needs, your skillset is still much sought after.”

Jayme rubbed her arm and averted eye contact. She didn’t like the man’s tone, what he said, what he didn’t say—the underlining meaning and this whole get up. She didn’t like how the conversation was going at all and she was pissed that her dream assignment was turning into an attack against her credibility and logical reasoning.

If you all were so good at this, if you knew all about this son of a bitch, you would’ve already caught him.Two of my colleagues are dead, and you still don’t know who the hell did it. I want him just as much as you. Why would I bungle this?!You think because I’m a woman I can’t hang? Well, we will just see about that, now won’t we?

But she kept the thoughts to herself, threw on a smile, and secretly seethed...

****

Two weeks later...

“We need you to try Phase II now, on an experimental subject.”

“But I don’t have the situation under control.” Xzion sat up in his bed, glaring at his computer screen as the crisp, white sheets bunched around his legs.

“I know, but it is imperative that we do this. There are over a thousand sick, Xzion. Their databases have been infected. They can’t even recall their own name. They are in quarantine. We will not survive if this continues. We’re losing too many, too fast.”

Xzion sighed. He knew what this meant, but there was no need to try to convince Aton otherwise. “I understand. I need the rest of the equipment to synthesize and purify the sample. I don’t have everything in the lab. I could create something, but...”

“It will be taken care of.”

“Okay. When would you like this completed?”

“As soon as possible. I will send you the synthesizing equipment immediately. It takes approximately thirty minutes to change the blood over. In your training, you completed it in twenty-three minutes—that’s your fastest time. Afterward, I will need you to send the results back to me for analysis. I will let you know if the coolant is effective, though I’m certain it will be.”

Xzion nodded. He didn’t like being under such time constraints. He was far more laid back than this, albeit a planner to the finest of details, but he understood that his people were in peril, so a change of plans had to be made sooner rather than later. Infiltrating and getting close to many of the U.S. drug lords proved far harder than he’d imagined and was taking up so much time that Phase II was not even a blip on the radar, and it was all because of America. The other countries he toured weren’t easy, but America was worst of all.

He now understood why this area of the planet, despite their dismal scholastic scores, gluttony of power, food and prestige as compared with many other parts of the world, was still a top three power-house. Test scores didn’t have shit to do with it; the
United States aristocrats were deceitful, cunning and believable. Everyone knew who Gaddafi and Bin Laden were. There was no mystery to their reign of terror, but the F.B.I and C.I.A.—that was a different bag of bones altogether. Identifiable enemies are not the worst of the lot. The worst are the ones that befriend you, look prim, proper and polite then snatch your life away, leaving you fucking breathless and gasping for redemption before you have a clue as to the full of extent of what the hell just happened... With these, you have to constantly watch your back or you’d just might find a knife in it.

Corruption ran deep; wolves in sheep’s clothing ran deeper. These hidden players treated drug money like top, secret military parcels, because essentially, they were. The government was more corrupt than the dealers—the biggest mafia, drug ring, dynasty, and parliament all rolled into one, yet the bulk of the population appeared to be clueless to this strange yet true phenomena.  No one seemed to truly understand how the drugs were getting into their country, the land of the enslaved, and home of the cowardly. No one seemed to notice who really had control and who really gave a damn about the human condition of narcotics addiction. Xzion didn’t understand it either...

All he knew for sure was that the root of the issue for the user was emotional—and that was so extraneous to him, he couldn’t wrap his arithmetical brain around it... But he did understand the dealers down to their basic core.

His planet had also suffered a time or two from the actions of tyrants wishing to wield control and possess the most power, be the dominant of the group. However, as they evolved as a people, they wished for peace, and did only what was necessary to survive. This evolution caused them to become physically weaker, and most of the warriors of their clan died out. Where there wasn’t a need, it was soon replaced, but fine-tuned intellect didn’t stop death—only made one more acutely aware that the grim reaper was coming...

Xzion had studied the formula, how to create and implement it, and he completely understood the human body and brain functionality. He watched the effects of alcohol on the mind and the corrosion of muscle tone, and even how it destroyed key white blood cells in developing fetuses. He watched the ill effects on crack addicted mothers as well, and absorbed the information, but to him, it was strictly scientific. He understood that humans cried at such horrid events, however, he considered it all misguided weakness. Tears didn’t wash away shit. How did tears help? The addict would just turn around and use again, so what good was the wasted emotion that forced the watery sins out of one’s eyes? They kept on, still hell-bent on consuming mind altering hallucinogens proven time and time again to usher one to one’s grave—yet they do it all the same, even with a fetus growing inside of them, a mother begging them to stop or children being whisked away by Child Protection Services.