The glyph on the frozen head corresponds with that of corpulence.
I’m not going to try and figure that one out, it seems a pointless exercise, this guy’s had far much more time than I have to plan and execute these things, and whatever I come up with, it’s unlikely to be quite as involved as what he’s doing.
This aside, I’m still a little pleased with the mornings events, it’s rare that something, anything, surprises me in downtown, but this has been a reasonable morning, the phone rings again, it’s IAB. I should really quantify that statement, IAB is the name of Internal Affairs Backup, they do the donkey work on cases like this, saves us the time and effort to deal with mundane things when we should be out there on the frontline of things.
No one knows anything about anyone in IAB, there’s no mention of them anywhere on the bulletin boards, and you can’t ask for a transfer to them, you’re either worthy of the system, or you’re not, that’s the way it works. The young lad on the end of the phone is polite, and enthusiastic. I say that because there’re levels to a persons voice, you can tell when a person is faking enthusiasm, well, you can tell if you’re looking for it, and if you know what you’re doing. If this guy’s faking it, he could teach most of the women I know how to do it better than they do.
Still, I digress, there’s been a connection made in the killings. Nothing especially strange about that, there usually is a connection, but not one as obvious as this. All the killings were at one time, ten years ago, part of the same operative squad. Marvellous, that gives us something definate to work with, IAB have already sorted out what needs to be done, and by the time I put the phone down, all the relevant information has already been downloaded to my oyster.
Nothing quite like a good backup team, I scan idly down the list, seeing what there is that they’ve picked out. Starting off with the first killing, full operative history, what they did, who they were, family and friends, all the other things that are completely irrelevant, but someone down at IAB thought would be useful to us. After thirty pages on the first person, I flip down to the next, ten pages later, on to the next, I’m beginning to lose the will to live here. Eve walks over to me and looks over my shoulder at the mass of text, I don’t look back, but I can feel the smile starting, so I raise one finger in a warning manner.
She leans over me and picks the machine off me, touching one or two buttons on it and passing it back. I look at the screen, there’s a single list on it, all the operatives who were in the squad. I scan down the list of those already dead, then down a little further.
Patrick Andrew Thaddeus
That last name brings me up a little short, certainly time for me to go have a word with the chief.