Using the window sill for footing, they reached above and slightly behind. They grabbed and hung from the roof, pulling them up and on top. From this vantage point they rested briefly and took a deep breath. A second later, they crouched and stepped around the perimeter of the home, occasionally peeking over the edge until they found the second floor balcony in the back.
After swinging over and hang-dropping to the concrete veranda below, they sidled in to the darkest corner to sit, rest, and watch for any signs of movement around them or an indication their intrusion was detected.
Once they were confident their approach was still a secret, they pulled out a small lock pick and got to work on the rolling glass door. It didn’t have an elaborate lock, nor was the home alarmed. Less than a minute later, they quietly slid the door open, popped inside, and slid the door back to an almost closed position. They put the tools away.
Having memorized the home’s layout earlier, the intruder walked quickly and quietly into the upstairs hallway, past the bathroom and one of the bedrooms, and directly into the Chief’s home office. Sticking to the shadows, they gazed out the double-sized picture window to ensure that no one from the area or a nearby building was watching. The front entry and driveway were visible – but no one was in sight, and no sounds could be heard from the rest of the home.
Confident they were still alone and unnoticed, the trespasser made their way over to the Chief’s desk. They crouched down and opened each drawer, examining the contents of each closely. They took special note of the large filing drawer and its many folders and papers within, slowly going over them and noting the folder titles and any important documents.
A few minutes later, mission completed, the intruder made their way back out the veranda and down the side of the building. They headed back towards their original entry point, double-jumping up the wall and positioned themselves carefully over the glass.
Dropping down in a cat-like stance on the other side, and glancing around a full one hundred and eighty degrees, she looked for any witnesses to her misconduct.
Noticing that the area was clear, Dana took off her soft, silk balaclava mask and thin, rubbery black gloves, putting them away. She turned her jacket inside-out to a brighter, reflective color, and assumed the role of an evening jogger, running under the twilight.
* * *
Wednesday June 23
Dana is already in the office when I arrive shortly after 8am. She is doing internet research on some of our leads, while chomping on a Cinnabon. Thanks to a faster metabolism, zombies can eat crap all day and stay fit like a teenager. If I eat a Cinnabon in the morning I practically pass out from a carb coma an hour later.
We say our good mornings and I settle in next to her to see what she’s learned so far.
As we are going over details of the food company that makes the Asian snacks concealing the drugs we uncovered yesterday, my boss steps in.
“Stack, Light, I’m glad you’re both here,” McDowell interrupts. “The Chief needs to see both of you right away.”
“Yes sir,” I reply and stand up, brushing myself off and smoothing my jacket.
We follow the captain upstairs to the Chief’s office. Captain O’Neill is already in the room.
Dana and I are motioned into two chairs in front of the Chief’s desk. Our respective captains stand out of the line of fire, by the office walls behind us.
“Detectives, thank you for coming in. I heard the most interesting story from the Mayor last night,” the Chief pauses and looks back and forth between us.
“Apparently her office picked up on a little story – that the IAB believes that criminals are turning new zombies here in Seattle.”
The blood drains from my face a little and my seat becomes less comfortable. This is why we’re here. We’re about to get chewed out.
“The captains here tell me that you two are the source of this theory,” the Chief’s silence invites us to speak.
“I am sir,” Dana replies. “We’ve found evidence that…”
The Chief interrupts her. “From what I’ve heard – and I think I’ve heard everything I need to know,” the Chief glares at Dana while saying this, putting particular emphasis on the word ‘everything’, “we do not have any comprehensive proof that zombies are being turned.”
He continues. “This office cannot afford to have our god-fearing constituents in an up-rise because a couple of cops have a hunch that zombies are being made.
“The IAB is on political thin-ice as it is. Rob, of all people you should know this. What the hell were you thinking?”
I do not reply. I’ve seen this kind of performance before – the Chief has more to say, and nothing I say is going to make it any better.
But Dana hasn’t been to this play before, and she is being protective. The Chief’s words sound like an attack on her partner’s character, so she steps in it. “Sir, if I could explain…” she starts, but can’t finish.
The Chief raises his voice. “I’d like to make myself perfectly clear here detectives. As far as we are all concerned, there are no zombies being created in the city of Seattle.” The Chief stands up. “We will have no rumors escape from this office about zombie creation. You are welcome to continue this line of investigation – but you will keep these theories absolutely contained in the meantime.
“Dana, I hear you’re doing well here so far – this is great to see. I’d hate to see your career with the IAB interrupted too quickly.” It isn’t stated as one, but this is unmistakably a threat.
“If and only if you uncover any real evidence in this investigation,” the Chief goes on, “you will ask for guidance from your captains here on how to proceed. Any questions?”
“No sir,” I reply. Dana finally catches on and says the same.
“Dismissed.”
The four of us leave his office and close the door behind us.
“Hey Rob, Dana,” Captain McDowell’s voice is soft. “You’re both busy – we’ll talk more about this later.” Then he becomes comforting. “You are both doing really great with this investigation.”
He turns to Captain O’Neill, “Darryl and I will make sure we tighten up any loose lips around the office. Continue your investigation, but keep it on the down-low, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure thing boss,” I reply. Dana and I go back to our cubes.
Dana inquires of me, “under the circumstances that seemed a little extreme. What do you think has the Chief so upset?”
“The politics around zombie policing are touchy, to say the least. Plus, public sentiment towards zombies at large affects their willingness to allow zombies have jobs where they carry guns. Anything that makes zombies look bad, or worse, impacts the longevity of the IAB.”
Thank goodness the occasional ‘average’ cop keeps the bar low when it comes to setting public expectations. Zombie cops look no worse by comparison, even better in some ways. I stop to look directly at Dana. “Are you ok?”
She replies in a chipper voice. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”
Zombies and their emotional fortitude – they can take a licking, and keep on ticking. If she is ok, I resolve to shake it off too.
“We should investigate the address pulled on Craig Whiddy.” With the co-operation of the wireless phone company and the phone number we had from Jane Middleton, we managed to get name and address billing information they have on file.
We have hopes we will find evidence that Whiddy is the axe-wielding zombie that Dana had shot earlier, and some useful new leads.
“I’m driving,” I announce.
While in the car on route, Dana asks if I know the Chief very well.
“A little,” I reply. “I’ve met him at a couple of police functions, and I’ve heard stories about him from my dad.”
“Such as?”
“Well, my dad and the Chief got along well enough at the beginning, but as the IAB grew bigger, they had a bit of a falling out.” I pause to take a breath. “My dad
insists that the Chief pushed him into taking early retirement.
“Dad believed that zombie cops partnered with humans were the future of the PD. He wants to take the IAB approach and start trying it elsewhere like major crimes, narcotics, and even CSI.
“The Chief felt that politically it was too early to try this, and would affect his chances of re-appointment. Dad continued pushing for it, trying to find ways outside the PD to influence the Chief.
“Like the mayor?” Dana inquires.
“Yes, I believe so. I always got the feeling there was much more to the story than this, something important Dad was hiding, but he insists that this is the only reason he was asked to step down.
“Today, he is not a big fan of the Chief. In his dealings with other police and security agencies, he continues to push for more zombie integration. I don’t think he’s been successful influencing anyone just yet.”
“Sounds like your dad is really committed to zombie human relations,” Dana suggests.
“I guess so. Anyway, pretty much everything else I know about the Chief is about his career. Anyone can learn it online.”
We pull into street parking near Whiddy’s apartment. Dana calls ahead to the superintendent as we walk to the building. We knock and announce ourselves with no response, and then the superintendent lets us in and leaves us.
The apartment is well furnished and anointed with art and other flourishes. It doesn’t look like the apartment of a zombie – who care less of appearances.
It doesn’t take us long, but we soon find pictures and some ID that confirms for us that Craig is the axe man. We collect and bag it carefully, along with other recently used items we hope have Craig’s fingerprints for verification.
Dana is look at some pictures and paper documents, while I look through what appear to be drug apparatus in the living room. No actual drugs unfortunately. There does seem to be evidence that someone was sleeping here and someone was in the bedroom.
I suspect that his guest is John Middleton, as John’s mother Jane suggested. I bag and tag some personal items in the area for confirmation.
Dana calls over to me. “Have you ever heard of the Church of Progressive Faith?”
I haven’t. “Nope. But I’m not what you’d call an ‘expert’ in the religious field.” I supplement my statement with air quotes.
“Hmmm. These two didn’t seem like the religious type,” Dana muses.
“John’s mother seemed to suggest that he was,” I remind her.
“Yeah, ok,” Dana moves on.
Dana bags the brochure, along with some photos and government forms, to file back at the office. We tape the door with police tape, and head back to the car for the next stop on our list. We are going to meet with the local office of the food company, Tasty Snacks. Their product shipment contains the drugs we found.
On our way there, Dana receives a call from the police desk.
“We just took a call about a theft we figured you’d want to know about,” the young man from the desk explains to Dana.
“Yes, go on,” she replies.
“It’s a pharmaceuticals manufacturing company. They called to report a theft. Potassium chloride.”
Dana takes down the details, thanks him, and assures him we will respond to the call in person. “Sounds like our plans just changed, Rob.” She explains the reason and gives me the address.
I flip on the siren and lights and turn us around – surprising and pissing off a few nearby drivers in the process – the pharmaceutical company is in the opposite direction. Once properly headed, I turn off the lights and speed up a little.
We arrive at the scene, introduce ourselves to reception, and the warehouse manager joins us almost immediately.
“Hi. I’m Detective Stack, and this is Detective Light. We are responding to the theft call that was put in.”
“I’m Paul Smithson, the warehouse manager here.” He has a British accent. “I’m the one that called the police. Let me take you to the warehouse where we noticed the robbery.”
We walk and talk. I ask, “Who are your customers for potassium chloride, Paul?”
“We have quite a few customers for this drug, in both powder and liquid form. It was the liquid drug that was stolen.”
We wait for him to answer the question.
“Oh, yes. We have hundreds of customers for KCI – that’s the name of its chemical formula – hospitals, doctors, and veterinarians. We’re the largest supplier of KCI on the west coast – in the US and Canada.”
“We understand that KCI is used for lethal injections?” I inquire.
“Well, yes – but we don’t sell it for that. Frankly, that’s not a very big market, and that’s not the type of image our company would like to portray. KCI has many good uses too. Primarily, in its liquid form, it is used to help people and animals with potassium deficiencies. A small amount of hospital sales are also used for heart operations.
“The powder, which was not stolen, is used to make fertilizer and no-sodium table salt. It also has some manufacturing and food processing uses.”
We arrive at the warehouse, and follow Paul to the scene of the crime.
“Here we are,” he says. It looks just like a regular warehouse. I can’t see anything wrong.
Paul notices me regarding the area with a slightly confused look, and he helps by pointing, “that area there. That is where the KCI was stolen from.”
It is just a boring empty shelf. Sigh.
“Was anything else out of the ordinary?” I ask, searching for more useful information.
“Not really,” Paul answers. “Yesterday’s stock count showed that twelve gallons of KCI was missing. We store KCI in one gallon jugs, but usually portion and sell it in racks of bottles containing 50 ml or less. We do a warehouse stock count every two weeks.
“Two boxes, each containing six one gallon jugs have been taken.” This matches the count we had found in our warehouse retrieval.
“Do you know who might have taken them?” Dana inquires.
“Not yet, and we might never know. Security is going through the tapes.” He points to a video camera a fair distance away. I doubted a video from it could ascertain someone’s face. “They suspect an inside job, as there have been no external security issues for the past two weeks.”
“We’ll need to get a list of all your employees that have access to the warehouse, if that’s ok,” I explain to Paul.
“Absolutely. I’ll have it prepared right now.” Paul steps away.
I look at Dana. While this visit confirms the source of our medical drug find, it is so far pretty unhelpful in every other way. Perhaps the employee listing will come in handy.
We finish up with Paul, giving him my card in case any new information comes up. I write the police case number on the back of the card for his insurance purposes.
We drive back towards Tasty Snacks, a wholly owned subsidiary of a major food empire that you’ve probably heard about.
Dana and I chat about the case and a few other personal topics on the way until we arrive.
“We’re here about the drug investigation we called about earlier.”
“Oh yes, let me get the manager right away,” the receptionist dashes off.
A tall, heavy man comes in and introduces himself as Geeman Chou. It seems to me that he quite enjoys their product – regularly. We introduce ourselves and he suggests we talk in his office. We follow him.
“I’ve already done some research on the background behind this shipment for you. We want to help the police in this investigation in every possible way.” He is clearly scared, but authentic. He doesn’t seem guilty to me, at least not yet.
“Why don’t you take us through what you have,” Dana suggests.
“Ok – here’s what I’ve learned.” Geeman wipes his hair down with his hands nervously. “This particular shipment was a little unusual for two reasons. First, it was a special order for a new event that’s just been organized. The Asian C
ultural Fair.”
Geeman places a customer profile down on the table in front of us and continues speaking. “They are a new customer, we hadn’t heard of them before – but it was a big order, and their credit card down payment processed without a hitch. I spoke earlier with the sales rep that took the order, and she commented that they seemed disorganized. They asked for a rush order, and paid extra for it. It seemed to her that this was the first time they were organizing an event of this size. They had many more questions than our usual customers.”
He tells us these paper photocopies are ours to keep, and continues the story.
“Our previous shipment from China had already left, and we didn’t have sufficient stock in town to fill the order, so we arranged for an extra delivery. The size of this shipment wasn’t big enough to go with our usual carrier, but big enough that UPS and FedEx didn’t make financial sense.”
He places another set of photocopies on the table.
“Here is all of the faxed information we sent to the new Chinese shipping company we found to do the delivery for us, in the timelines we needed. We’ve never used them before, but they seemed to have the best prices of everyone we researched for the quick turnaround we needed.”
I can hear the commercial now – we ship drugs with your product, and we pass the savings on to you!
Geeman continues to politely answer all of the additional questions Dana and I can think of, and we collect our things and prepare to go. He is never evasive, and he answers all of our questions as fully as we require of him. I feel confident that Tasty Snacks is not moving into the drug business.
Just as we are about to leave, Geeman politely interrupts. “Umm, detectives? Would it be possible for us to collect our snack foods? We still need to supply our customer for their event, and we don’t have any other way to do it.”
I take back the card I gave Geeman earlier, and write another number on the back.
“This phone number is for the detective in charge of the seizure, Phil Bronson.” I feel a little sorry for Geeman. “No guarantees, but if you wait until later today to call him, I’ll put in a good word for you in the meantime.”
We leave Geeman to his worrying, and exit the building.
True to my word, I give a call to my buddy Phil as we walk back to the car. I want to get an update on the seizure anyway.