Chapter 12: The Brotherhood

About ten miles outside the city limits, in several hundred acres of woodland, stands the majestic Hartley House. The magnificent stately home was built by a local farmer called Alexander Hartley when farming was the best way to make a million, long before Lotto and reality TV shows created new millionaires every week.

The farmer became incredibly rich through years and years of toil and ended his working life a satisfied and accomplished man. Unfortunately, on his day of retirement he realised that because he had worked so hard all his life, he had nothing to spend his money on. No wife, no children, no hobbies, nothing at all.

All he had was his house, so it became his life. He made the house his reason to get out of bed every morning. He kept building and expanding the mansion, adding more and more rooms until eventually it became one of the largest private residences in the world.

Many successful business people have owned and lived in Hartley House down the years until one of the owners became unexpectedly unsuccessful and had to hand it over to the government to pay off his tax bill. It then became a hotspot for schmoozing important persons of influence who were visiting the city.

On this day, it wasn’t being used for schmoozing. In fact, you wouldn’t have set foot in Hartley House in over a year unless you were a member of The Brotherhood.

In one of the many splendid-looking halls, two men in camouflage gear and masks were fighting each other with long silver swords.

One man was noticeably taller and wider than the other and obviously more skilful with the sword. His name was Captain Stein. His opponent was Private Brown. To be fair to Private Brown, he was holding his own. Captain Stein had beaten him into submission numerous times in the twelve months they had been posted at Hartley House. He had also beaten him numerous times when they were posted at the other end of the country for six months.

Before joining The Brotherhood, Private Brown had been working in a fast food restaurant after dropping out of school. He was a damn good burger flipper back then and was determined to be just as good with a samurai sword as he was with a spatula. He met Captain Stein on the night his parents were killed and signed up to The Brotherhood in a shot.

The sparring practice followed the same pattern as it usually did between Stein and Brown: Stein was permanently on the attack and Brown spent the whole practice session frantically defending. The only difference was that it took Stein longer than usual to knock the sword out of Brown’s hands. But knock the sword out of his hands he did, and then followed up with a kick to the knees that sent Brown tumbling to the floor.

They both removed their masks and Stein helped Brown to his feet. “Good effort, Brown,” said Stein in a strong, booming voice. “Now tell me what you did wrong.”

“Same as usual, Sir,” Brown replied. “All I did was defend. I didn’t get the chance to attack.”

“Wrong, Brown. You didn’t make the chance to attack,” said Stein as he tapped Brown on the head. “Your problem’s in there. You have the ability but you’re not channelling it. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Brown.

They saluted each other and Brown left the room. He passed Commander North in the doorway. Commander North was another big, burly man like Captain Stein, only with more experience written in the lines on his face.

“I know I don’t need to ask the result,” North said as the men saluted each other. “You have a good man there, Stein. Is there any news?”

“Yes sir. The lab was bombed last night. The doctors’ work was completely destroyed.”

“What happened to them?”

“They’ve both disappeared but we’ve got a team going out to find them today.”

“I want you to lead the team. You can find them. I have every confidence in you.”

“Thank you, sir. We will leave immediately.”

They saluted each other. On the way out of the room, Commander North left Stein with a parting shot. “Remember, if you don’t find the doctors, we’re all dead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter 11: On The Spot

Agent Simpson led the way into the entrance hall. We walked through a huge gap in the walls left behind by her colleagues after they had removed the glass doors to facilitate their movements in and out of the building. Inside, a body bag was being carried out by the forensic team. I asked Agent Simpson what had happened.

“That’s the security guard’s body,” she said, “He took a beating then his neck was broken. The perp did nothing to hide the body.”

“It must have been a swift operation if he left the body lying there,” I said. Agent Simpson nodded in agreement.

On the way up to the lab on the second floor, we passed several men in suits taking samples from the floor, the walls, anywhere that might hold some evidence of who did this or the type of explosive they used.

The rubber suit squeaked with every movement and the heat inside was already unbearable. I was beginning to question the wisdom of stopping home for a shower and change.

We entered the lab through an irregularly shaped hole in the wall where the door used to be. It was a complete mess from floor to ceiling. I couldn’t believe that someone had been happily working there just twelve hours earlier. A massive hole had been blown in the outside and inside walls and we could stand on the edge of the room and look outside at the people working below. Papers and fragments of scientific equipment were strewn all over what was left of the room. Ash and dust covered everything. It was going to be difficult to get any decent forensic evidence out of this room but in my experience, if you take enough samples and do enough tests, you nearly always get a lead.

I cast my eyes around the room, taking in as much as I could. It was very important to me not to judge the crime scene on the first thing I looked at. An easy trap to fall into is to pick one thing at the crime scene and focus solely on that, when there might be several other clues screaming out at you in another corner.

“What are your first thoughts?” Agent Simpson asked after only a few seconds, putting me on the spot. No doubt someone had told her I was 'the best' so she probably wanted to test this theory herself. Now it was my turn to sound like I knew what I was talking about.

“The destruction wasn’t caused by something small like a hand grenade,” I said, “Whoever did this wanted to make sure there wasn’t any forensic evidence for us to sift through. We can use the explosive residue to find out what they used but that’s going to take a long time.

“In my opinion, this explosion was intended to cover up what went on in here, not to send a message. I agree with you: it’s unlikely that animal rights protestors did this.”

Two forensics officers were carrying a body bag out of the room. “What happened to the kid?” I asked.

“His body was found behind the equipment over there,” she said, pointing to a fire-damaged refrigerator and filing cabinet, both twisted out of their natural shape, “Not all of his body was destroyed.”

“Which means that he was lying back there, either dead or unconscious when the bomb went off.”

She nodded in agreement. “His body is on the way to the morgue.”

“Good, we’ll need to get down there and take a look at it. I saw security cameras around. Has anyone taken a look at the tapes?”

“The tapes are usually stored at the front desk but they’ve gone missing. It’s likely they were taken when the perp left the building.”

“Who else works in this office?” I asked.

“Doctor Forrest and Doctor Owen are the scientists who run this research lab. We haven’t heard anything from either of them.”

“See if you can find their home addresses,” I said, “I’ll send a patrol car round to pick them up.”

“Do you think they were the intended targets?”

That seemed like an odd question to me. Not because what she was asking didn’t make sense, but because I would have expected anyone to jump to the conclusion that the scientists who ran the lab were in danger. It seemed like common sense to me.

“Whoever did this targeted this lab for a reason. They wanted to stop the research and even went so far as to kill the lab assistant and the security guards, probably only because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Their work may have been stopped but these scientists still have the intellectual capital. They could start their work again in another lab. If the bomber was prepared to go this far, we have to assume the scientists are the next targets.”

Chapter 10: A Meeting Of Minds

I arrived at the front gates of Mantek headquarters to find the whole place in chaos. There were reporters and TV vans all over the road outside the complex. No one from the media was allowed onto the grounds but that didn’t stop the photographers climbing the walls to get front page pictures for the late editions.

As the security guard waved me through the gate, cameras flashed like strobe lights all around me and reporters banged their microphones on the windows asking for a comment. It felt like I was driving through a riot. The car belonged to the department though so I didn’t care about the bumping and scratching as much as I probably should have.

Even from the entrance at the opposite end of the grounds from the research building, the extent of the damage was obvious. It was quite a sight. A large chunk of the Mantek research building was missing, like someone had taken a huge bite out of the corner where the lab used to be. It immediately occurred to me that it would have taken a large quantity of explosives to do that much damage.

I drove up the tree-lined road towards the research building and saw crowds of people in white biohazard suits going in and out. As I reached the end of the drive, a security guard walked up to my window.

“What’s your business?” he asked.

“Police. I’m here to meet Agent Jane Simpson,” I said.

“You’re the detective, right? She was waiting around for you but you’re late so she might be in the building.”

“Late?” I asked. Who does this jobsworth think he is, telling me when I should have arrived? I only took on the case an hour ago.

“Yeah, she was expecting you half an hour ago.” The look on his face made me think I was back in school, being put in detention for turning up late for registration. It was Captain Nash’s fault. What an asshole. He must have told them I was coming before he even talked to me about the case.

“Carry on straight ahead and park next to that big white van”, he continued, “she won’t be far away.”

I parked the car and started asking around for Agent Simpson. It wasn’t long before I was pointed in the direction of a woman talking to a group of men in white biohazard suits. For some reason I was expecting a middle-aged woman in horn-rimmed glasses but I was a little shocked when I saw her. She had dark brown hair tied in a short ponytail and was about five foot six. Her biohazard suit restricted any further assessments I could make apart from the fact that she was young and pretty. Well, younger than me anyway.

I must have looked out of place because she walked over as soon as she spotted me. “Agent Jane Simpson. Pleased to meet you,” she said and extended a hand to me. “You must be the detective.”

“That’s right. Detective Tom Ryder,” I replied as we shook hands. “Looks like you’ve got a lot of work on your hands.”

“A lot of work on our hands, Detective,” she said. “I’ve got a suit for you in the van. You’re coming in with me.”

I guess that’s the end of the pleasantries. Time to get down to business.

“What happened here?” I asked, “I didn’t get much information at the station.”

“It looks like someone didn’t agree with the research that was going on here. The lab was being used to work on the cure for a highly contagious disease of the blood. That’s why we need to be suited up.”

“What about the hole in the side of the building? Shouldn’t that be covered up to stop the contagion spreading?” I suggested, trying to ask her something relevant.

“No, that’s not a problem. The disease isn’t airborne; you can only catch it by coming into direct contact with it.”

“What’s the disease?”

“Nothing you’d have heard of. It’s very rare and Mantek want to keep it that way.”

Nothing I’d have heard of? She’s not scared to speak her mind. I’d probably be offended if I didn’t think she had already worked me out.

“But you know what the disease is, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, “I’ve dealt with it before.”

“Who were the victims?” I asked.

“Two security guards and one lab assistant. We’ll need the police department’s help to perform the post-mortems.”

“That’s fine; just send the bodies down to the hospital,” I said, “Any ideas who might be responsible? Anyone got a grudge against the company or the people who work here?”

“Mantek has the same problems as any pharmaceutical company,” she said, “There are the usual attacks on employees and their families by animal rights activists but this doesn’t fit the profile. You need to see the lab for yourself. Better get suited up.”

She grabbed a white suit out of the back of the van and threw it to me. It was made from inch-thick rubber and I let out an involuntary grunt as I caught the heavy suit. The midday heat was becoming uncomfortable already but the suit magnified the temperature as soon as I stepped into it.

“Jeez, it’s going to be hot in here,” I said, pointing out the obvious.

“There’s more bad news,” said Agent Simpson, “the explosion knocked out the air conditioning system and the engineer can’t get in to fix it until we’re done.”

And the hits just keep on coming.

Chapter 9: Reflection

Screw them all, I’m going home, I thought as I passed my apartment on the way to the crime scene. My foot hit the brake pedal and I turned the car around. I had to at least freshen up before taking on a new mission.

What the hell, I’m going to be working with the World Health Organisation for the first time. Better make a good first impression.

I would have tried to convince myself that Captain Nash might agree with that logic if I cared one way or the other.

I stopped the car on yellow lines at the side of the road and hopped out. It’s one of the few perks of the job: no one ever gives a cop a parking ticket. Well, no cop ever pays the fine anyway.

There was no air conditioning in my block so there was no relief from the heat as I walked through the front door. The lift was broken as usual so I took the stairs up to the fourth floor and had to take a second to catch my breath when I got to the top.

I really need to sort myself out if I’m going to stand any chance of doing myself justice today. I could do with visiting the gym as well. They’ve been taking my money on the first day of every month for the last two years so I should really start getting my money’s worth some time soon.

There was a familiar smell as I opened the door to my apartment. I call it home. Every home has a distinctive smell. It just so happens that I’m the only person who appreciates my apartment’s distinctive smell.

I peeled off my suit and shirt and dropped them in a soggy pile on the floor. In the corner of my eye, I caught the sight of my bare body in the long mirror on the wardrobe. I hadn’t taken a good look at myself for a long time.

I had to do a double take, I was so shocked.

Do I really look like that? Where did that gut come from?

I prodded my stomach and it wobbled. Only a little bit but I definitely saw a wobble. Last time I looked, that chest was tight. I used to play squash three times a week for Christ’s sake! I’m sure the six pack was still under there somewhere but a soft cushioned layer had appeared from nowhere.

Looks like I’m built for comfort rather than speed these days. I looked down and saw the dusty handle of my old squash racket poking out from behind the wardrobe. There was no doubt in my mind: I needed to sort my life out.

I walked into the bathroom and as my feet stuck to the floor, I registered the fact that I also had to sort my apartment out as well. I couldn’t remember the last time I gave the place a thorough cleaning. To be honest, I couldn’t remember the last time I even gave the place a light dusting.

I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes, letting the hot water rain down on me. I hoped it would wash away the pains like it had washed away countless hangovers over the past five years. I was sober now though. I hadn’t had a drink for over a week.

Eight days and counting.

I turned off the shower and took a second to gather my thoughts. Rubbing the water out of my eyes, I knew the pain was still in my mind. The urge to sleep for a week hadn’t subsided but the rest of my body felt a bit better than it had since last Tuesday, probably because I hadn’t had a shower since last Tuesday.

I got out of the shower, dried myself off and looked at myself in the mirror again.

At least I look refreshed even if I don’t feel like it.

In the mirror, I caught sight of a bottle of Jack Daniel’s sitting on the coffee table. It had one shot left in it. It was the only bottle left in my apartment that contained any alcohol. Gordon’s, Captain Morgan, Bacardi, Smirnoff, Jose Cuervo. They were all empty. Gone and well and truly forgotten.

All that remained was the bottle of Jack and a shiny shot glass. The day I pick up that bottle and that glass would be the day I took a step back down the path I swore I would never walk again. I hated myself when I was drunk but only slightly more than when I was sober. At least the time went quicker when I was drunk.

It was the time when I wasn’t working that I hated the most. When I was working, my mind was active and I could take my frustrations out on my surroundings, whether it was an over-zealous arrest or some argumentative banter with Dave and the Captain.

The pain really started when I was unfortunate enough to finish work early and return home with nothing to do, especially when I wasn’t tired enough to immediately pass out when I crashed onto the sofa. That was the point when my sleep needed a helping hand from my good friends Gordon, Jose and Captain Morgan.

I wasn’t the type of drunk to go out on the town, blow all my money and pick a fight. I preferred to sit on the sofa with a bottle in my hand and look at old photos, watch old home movies or just think about the happy times I shared with Sarah and wish we’d had more. Just me, a sofa, a bottle and my memories. Once I started drinking, I could find no reason in the world to stop until Mother Nature sent me off to sleep.

The reason for us not spending more time together was always me. Every time we were going out for dinner or round to friends’ houses, I would get the call. There was yet another killer on the loose and it was always up to me to find them and lock them up. Noble work to be sure, but not conducive to marital bliss.

The friends we used to have had abandoned me long ago. Needless to say they were all Sarah’s friends rather than mine. Of course, they all rallied round after she died and stuck by me for a while but I guess I should be the first to admit that my attitude probably pushed them away rather than drawing them close when I needed them most.

I kept staring at the bottle of Jack. One sip and that was it. No more work. I could start drinking now and kiss goodbye to the next two days.

The devil on my shoulder thought it sounded very tempting.

Pull yourself together, Tom!

I marched over to the drinks cabinet, picked up the bottle and unscrewed the top. I picked up the shot glass and looked at it for a second before throwing it into the metal dustbin by the door. There was a satisfying smash when it hit the bottom. I went back into the bathroom and emptied the last shot of Jack into the sink then smashed the bottle in the dustbin.

Goodbye old life, hello new beginning.

Chapter 8: "Sorry Tom..."

It was all going too well. I knew I should have avoided talking to my boss.

“Sorry Tom”, Captain Nash started, “I’ve got some bad news for you.”

I was standing in the Captain’s office, listening to him try to tell me my vacation had been cancelled in the longest, most roundabout way possible. Another crock about me being the best detective he’s got and how he can’t do without me.

I knew what he was trying to say the second he opened his mouth: that my vacation was being cancelled and I’m sure he knew that too but for some reason he felt the need to talk around the subject for several minutes first.

If bullshit were pennies, this guy would be a millionaire.

“If I’m that great, give me a raise then, Captain,” I said once he’d finished telling his story. A completely futile suggestion but I wanted to make him squirm even more.

“Look here Detective, just about everyone who’s got a family has booked time off and the ones that didn’t have called in sick.” He was shouting at me as if it was my fault, like I was in the wrong because I had the nerve to want to take some time off work. Men with families always got the holidays they wanted and I had to pick up the scraps that were left over. That pissed me off.

I should have known though, it was a predictable situation. Good weather always causes people to call in sick. They pretend they’ve been laid up for a few days but when they get back to work they’ve got golden brown sun tans. It’s at times like this when I think the world is full of lazy bums and hard working men like me and my partner Dave are the exception rather than the rule.

“That’s not my problem, Captain,” I protested, “if half your men phone in sick on a sunny day you need to get them in here or fire them. Read them the riot act, for Christ’s sake!”

“You know I can’t do that so I’m afraid it is your problem, Tom. I’ve got dead bodies stacking up all over the city and no one to find out who put them there. God damn it, I wish the situation was different but it’s not.”

My mind was filling with anger and desperation. One emotion was about to bubble over but I didn’t know which one.

“I need some time off, Captain,” I pleaded desperately, “I’ve been working all day and night on the Lewis murder. Now I’ve cracked it, I’ve got to get some sleep. Period. You can’t ask any more from me.”

“Sorry Tom, you’ll need to try and get some sleep tonight. Right now I need you to get over to Mantek at the other end of the city.”

He could have at least tried to look like he was sorry but his expression didn’t change at all. In his mind we got to take vacation as a bonus rather than a right. There was no point arguing any more, I didn’t have any choice. If I protested any more, I’d be heading for suspension or worse. Taking this case was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.

“I heard about the attack on Mantek on the radio. What happened?” I asked, resigned to my fate.

“Someone walked in last night, killed two security guards and blew up one of the labs. A young lab technician was working there at the time.”

“Dave’s on vacation. I take it I’m alone on this one?”

“This one’s different. It falls under the jurisdiction of the World Health Organisation. Apparently the lab was being used to research the cure for some disease. The WHO have got the whole place quarantined. Your contact will be Agent Jane Simpson. She’s already on-site.”

Great. I get to work with a woman. No doubt someone else who’ll end up hating me.

The case itself didn’t sound too bad. Most likely animal rights activists and there were only two of those groups with any significant presence in the city. Shouldn’t take too long to ask around and find out who the angriest members of the groups are.

“Any suspects?” I asked.

“You now know everything I know, Detective.” I made a point of asking him for more information every time I got a case, even though he never knew anything of any importance. I thought that one day he might realise all he did was bark orders without giving me anything to work with but that day hadn’t come yet. I doubted it ever would but I hoped he would prove me wrong.

“I don’t have any choice, do I Captain?” I asked, with desperation in my voice.

“You know the answer to that one, Tom,” he said, staring deep into my eyes. “You know the score. You’re the best man for the job. I’d rather have you running at fifty percent than half the other guys running at a hundred percent.”

That would be flattering if it wasn’t a total fabrication.

“I’ll do this for today but you’d better get someone else lined up because I’m calling in sick tomorrow,” I announced.

“Sure you are,” he replied, knowing that I was bluffing.

I turned round and left his office, slamming the door behind me. That was it. Forget about your vacation, Tom. Get out there and get back to work.

It’s hard work being the best.