by Peter Cry
“And what about the perverts?” Alfred gently recalled his question.
“Yeah, sure, I'm sorry.” Kate smiled awkwardly. “We asked the National Security Agency for help. We needed specialists in the extraction of information from the network.” the young woman explained.
“Hackers?”
Kate smiled back.
“They’re specialists on personal user data who checked the mass data stored on the digital devices of all parents and all contacts of those children, pupils at North West Central School, all of their friends, and the friends of their friends. We had to check almost half the population of Indianapolis then. We managed to find videos and photos, accounts on the forums on the Deep Web related to pedophilia. We used them to satisfy the thirst for blood of the parents and the public. After a quick trial, several people were put away for storing child pornography. America never found out how exactly we got them.”
“You didn’t understand me, Kate.” Alfred politely marveled at the inexperience of his young colleague. “I was wondering if the people, you had detained, helped you with the abduction case?”
“No.” Kate shook her head.
“And you have interviewed the children, of course?”
“Yes, but what can they say? Especially when their ‘caring’ parents wanted to protect their children from the horror.”
Thinking, Alfred rubbed his unshaven chin with his fingers.
“What would you say, Kate, if I decided to re-interview the pupils at the school? Would the other agents consider that provocative showing-off?”
Agent Duncan shrugged.
“I don’t know. You don’t have to tell them. If Rita knows, I think, that’s sufficient.”
“Then let's do it that way, please.”
“Okay,” Kate agreed, wanting to be a good cop. “Now, shall we move on?”
“Yes, sure.”
The newly made FBI agent and his colleague walked up to the third floor. On the landing, there were two formidable metal doors.
“I don’t really like to come here,” delicate Kate Duncan opened the heavy door with a light push.
Alfred entered inside a spacious hall with high ceilings. There was a lot of daylight penetrating the room through the large lattice windows. Five wide rectangular tables stood next to each other in the center of the room. Bright colored clothes, toys, notebooks lay on them.
“We keep the evidence here,” Kate said. “Or, let's say, we pretend that we have evidence. In fact, some personal belongings of the abducted children are stored here. We collected them at first, hoping to find a hint of the motive or archetype of the criminal in those diaries, laptops, toys and other things.”
Alfred suddenly felt himself in some sort of a mystical trance. He detached himself from the words of Agent Duncan, and slowly approached the desks.
Children's t-shirts, jackets, socks, on which Transformers were printed, Iron Man, Avengers and, of course, a Barbie Doll appeared before his eyes. The clothes were colorful like a rainbow, conjuring up the image of the happy time called "childhood".
Alfred touched the “evidence” with his fingers.
He picked up various items and examined them. They were separated into five distinct piles, differing from each other in content, and indicating five different characters, five different fates.
Kate watched the strange ritual of the young newcomer at work. He reminded her of a magician, or a mentalist. It was intriguing. The intuitive gifts that Rita had alluded to, were being applied.
Alfred took a dusty photograph from one of the tables. Gazing at it, he smiled bitterly.
“He is a pedophile,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?” his colleague did not understand.
“He is not an organ dealer, not a sick psychopath-killer and not a person who wants revenge. He is a pedophile. For a long time, he systematically chose children for himself. Err…” Overcome by sadness, Alfred froze. “This baby girl is so beautiful.”
The scene that hurt Alfred so much depicted a lovely, beautiful girl of about eight or nine sitting on the lap of her smiling father and, frozen in an absurd pose, roaring with laughter. She was wearing a wonderful white dress with red straps on her shoulders.
Alfred's eyes became moist.
He did not want to think what a sick cruel mind could do with such a charming creature. Aware of how rotten the world was, and knowing some putrid people personally, he could not make those thoughts vanish.
“What was her...” Alfred did not finish his question, stopping himself. “What’s the name of the girl?”
“Emmy Stevens,” Kate answered. “Now you understand why I don’t like to come here.”
Alfred drew two heavy breaths. Putting the photograph in the inside pocket of his jacket, and having regained his composure, he rejoined his colleague.
“Yes, now I understand.”
“The doors here are never locked. Therefore, you do not need a key. And the keys from the second floor will be given to you by Director Coleman.”
Kate saw that her colleague had been affected by what he had seen. She did not witness such a reaction to this horrible tragedy so often. She liked it.
“Let’s go,” she said softly, opening the creaky heavy door.
Having walked a bit along the landing, she just as easily opened the door across the way to a room for storing evidence. It was dark inside and Kate groped a switch on the wall to turn on the light.
Alfred immediately figured out why Agent Duncan was in no hurry to step inside. On the shelves lay an endless number of files and folders, huge stacks of documents. They were everywhere, even on the floor.
“These are the case files.”
“Judging by their number, you are investigating at least a hundred cases at once.”
“You understand that this is just for the sake of appearances,” Kate turned off the light.
“I do,” Alfred helped her close the heavy door.
“The entire history of child abductions in America might be here. But the main thing is missing – how to find Emmy, Andrew, David, Michael, and Elijah. They’re still missing. Maybe with your involvement, it will change,” Kate suggested hopefully.
“I’m not sure, Kate. It’s possible this crime cannot be solved even by God himself, because the Devil perpetrated it.”
“I had thought that, too. But it’s not confirmed either by the testimonies of witnesses, nor by the evidence found. Let's go,” she began to walk up the stairs. “There is not much left to show you.”
The brown-painted wooden door on the fourth opened easily. Agent Duncan and the newcomer Hope entered the main room, where the most powerful analytical minds of the FBI were sitting. For a moment, a dozen agents got distracted from work and turned their attention to the man so vividly promoted by their boss Rita Coleman. It was hard to surprise the federal service officers with something, so in a moment, they returned to their work.
Kate walked through the space, followed by Alfred.
“Here,” she pointed to a gray chair, standing at an equally gray desk in the back of the room. “I recommend this place for you and this laptop. You won’t be disturbed by the draught, and the setting sun won’t hit your eyes too hard.”
Kate opened the laptop and turned it on. “This is one of the machines that has been here from the very beginning. You can find all the digitized documents and evidence here. All your questions about the Deep Web should be addressed to Agent Polaski.”
Alfred glanced at the young man standing at the window in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a black narrow tie casually wrapped around his neck.
“He's nice,” Kate smiled, seeing the reservation shown by her new colleague. “Sometimes.”
“So that's how it’s going to be,” Alfred looked at his empty desk.
“What do you mean?”
“You throw me out in the middle of the ocean, and I have to swim to the shore by myself.” Alfred didn’t feel quite like himself. “N
obody is going to fill me in?”
“No,” Kate nodded with understanding. “Now you know almost everything we know. The same info that you can find on Wikipedia you may glean from all the documents that you saw in that gloomy, God-forgotten room on the third floor. We have simply written it all up professionally with bureaucratic cynicism.”
“I have two questions,” Alfred continued.
“Ask them.”
“Where's the bus?”
Kate took the office black chair, which stood at the next desk, and sat down.
“We’ve rented a hangar not far from here, and the bus is stored inside. But there’s simply nothing left to do with it. The best forensic experts from the agency have studied it from the top to bottom. Fingerprint examinations were carried out several times. In addition, we ran several DNA tests on the hair samples found but did not come up with anything.”
“When could I examine it?”
“Whenever you want. I can take you there.”
“Fine,” the newcomer smiled. “The second question – when will I get my badge and ID?”
Kate smiled and got up from her chair.
“I think Rita will solve this issue in the next few days.”
The young agent wanted to leave, to return to her desk. But she stood there as if she really wanted to share something.
“What is it?” Alfred asked.
“It was I who found you,” excited, sweet, Kate sat down again.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have enough time for the Internet, or the work with photo and video files. Therefore, I am constantly busy with text documents, occasionally surfing the network.”
Agent Duncan was clearly uncomfortable telling her story but continued. “I’m from Seattle. And occasionally, for a break, I look through the news from my native state. That’s how I came across you. I know about the tragedy that you’ve been through. I read your story on the site of the local newspaper.”
Alfred hid the surprise he was experiencing. He was not angry when people spoke about his story unless they tried to delve into his soul or head. Sitting opposite the FBI agent, he was perplexed. He could not imagine that someone on the other side of the country could be aware of his life. Without getting annoyed, he quietly listened to his colleague and nodded his head occasionally.
“After googling you a little, I found out that you are also a wonderful cop,” Kate continued, straightening her blond hair. “I learned that in just a few months of work you’d managed to jail three pedophiles – the real ones who committed crimes against children. So, I decided to tell Rita and Mr. Blake about you. And after some initial hesitation, they decided to invite you. That’s how you are here.”
Kate took her colleague's hand. But, unfortunately, Alfred, did not experience the same intriguing calmness as after the touch of Director Coleman. He did not let on and looked into the pure eyes of his new colleague.
“You will succeed,” she said, supportively. “You will help us – I can feel it.”
So as not to offend Kate, Alfred gently removed his hand from the gentle female grip as if needing to reach into his pocket for his smartphone.
“Thank you. I appreciate your support.”
Pretending that he urgently needed to send someone a message, he unlocked the phone.
“Well, I shall not distract you anymore.” Kate stood up pleased to have made her confession. “If you need anything, I'm always there. You can ask me. Don't be shy.”
Politely nodding his head, Alfred began to slide his thumb on the screen of the smartphone.
Agent Duncan left. Watching her from behind, the newly appointed FBI officer wondered if he had offended his colleague, or if he had seemed strange to her. Had she felt his reaction to the handshake?
Left alone, he decided to look around. The chaotic stressful introduction had not given him a chance to take in his new place of work properly.
The room on the third floor where the agents worked was not a heavenly place, but, compared to the other rooms, it seemed quite friendly.
High ceilings with hanging day lamps gave a feeling of freedom and spaciousness, both external and internal. To his left was a huge lattice window placed along the entire wall of the large hall. To the right, about thirty feet away from him, an unpainted brick wall. Its appearance was reminiscent of a loft-style interior. Gray metal shelves with documents stood there. More than two dozen gray desks in the room, like the ones at Alfred’s Seattle Police Station.
With his right hand, he reached to the drawer in his table and opened it. It was empty. Taking the photograph of Emmy Stevens from his inner pocket, he put it inside. Capturing the girl’s smiling face, Alfred closed it.
“So that's why you catch pedophiles so well,” Agent Polaski said spitefully from out of nowhere. Stepping closer, he sat down on the edge of the desk with his hands in his pockets. “Apparently, you’re one of them.”
Alfred raised his head and indifferently looked at the annoying blabbermouth.
“Sorry, that was a joke,” he held out his hand, realizing that he had gone too far. “Jeremy Polaski.”
Alfred looked at the hand for a couple of seconds. Not wanting to make enemies ahead of time, he unwillingly reciprocated. The handshake was cold and tense.
“I do the Internet and the Deep Web here,” continued Agent Polaski. “Data for all accounts will be sent to you by email in the evening.”
“Thank you,” Alfred answered, helping his colleague defuse tension.
“Your laptop has access to the cloud. We store a world of videos and photos on our case there. The lovers of naked children would probably give their last savings to gain access to it. I should warn you about all the horrors stored there, but I see that you have already started collecting photo content.”
Polaski wanted to see a smile on the newcomer's face. His jokes were backfiring, yet he thought he was good at them.
Moving a little away from his table, Alfred leaned back in his chair. A slight smile appeared on his face, saturated with an expression indicating to the colleague that he was a complete idiot.
“Sorry, I forgot to tell you, my second name is ‘Chronic cretin’. In this team, I have a reputation as an insidious, cynical, and sarcastic person. I wanted at least someone to like me, and, as always, it didn’t work.”
Alfred grinned.
“Yep, partner, you have huge problems with verbal communication.”
“Who's to blame?” Polaski asked himself annoyedly.
Sighing tiredly, Alfred moved closer to the table and, pressing the touchpad of his laptop with his index finger, revived it.
“What should I do?”
“About what?” his colleague did not understand.
“I was thrown into the middle of the ocean and told to solve the hardest case in the history of America. So, I wonder if you could advise me at least as to the direction to swim in.” The last few words betrayed discomfort.
“Well, firstly,” the agent began to explain, “do not steal material evidence from the storage room. I would advise making a copy. They have an audit here from time to time. If something is missing, they will fuck you over.”
Jeremy got up from the table and, bending over, stared at the laptop screen.
“Now” – his fingers ran across the keyboard – “here is your new email. Once a week, we compile a document in which we report to the main office in Washington on the progress of the investigation. It’s usually prepared by sweet agent Duncan. It contains a lot of stuff indispensable for you, documents, letters, and various other things. You’ll find the files somewhere in your received messages. Tag the name ‘Kate,’ and the word ‘report.’"
“So, I have to read them all?” Alfred was puzzled.
“You can try, but I’d say that the last three months would be enough.”
Jeremy scrolled down the screen several times to where the contents of the new colleague's work email were displayed.
“This is the fi
rst one,” he said, and then pressed the button, so the necessary text file started downloading to the hard drive.
“Who worked here before me?” Alfred asked, noticing the used condition of his laptop,
“No one who could be remembered by us. As far as I remember, at least three people sat at this desk.”
“Hell of a turnover!”
Jeremy’s cold, rude face with small deep-set eyes and thin lips, in addition to indifference, also displayed arrogance.
“You are facing one of the best FBI employees who solved the case of Jose Leguero. I’ve tracked the largest shipment of Colombian cocaine in the late nineties. I am one of the best.”
Agent Polaski bit his lower lip.
“Fuck that! I am the best graduate of the academy in Quantico. A couple of years ago, I had unbelievably bright prospects, promising me the position of Director in the future. However, at best, this case is handed over to someone else, and I will be, just like the rest, another loser, who did not satisfy America's expectations.”
“I'm so sorry,” Alfred said sarcastically.
“Those who, realize the hopelessness here, resigned and returned home were smart,” Polaski continued. “This case cannot be solved, and it will bury all of us.”
“That was a hell of inspirational speech”, Alfred chuckled.
“It might have been, but in a month, you’ll understand why I’m saying this.
“Well, I think...” Alfred wanted to respond.
“Now, please, excuse me,” Polaski interrupted him abruptly. “My stomach is growling. I'm going to have a bite to eat.”
With that he left.
“What a jerk,” Alfred thought.
Noticing the situation, Agent Ramirez approached. “Welcome to the team, tiger,” he greeted Alfred.
“Yes, you’ve arrived! Should have stayed at home, you idiot,” Alfred scolded himself in his mind.
He tried to regain control of his feelings and to get himself into a working mood. He was aware that everyone in the room was observing him. Those experienced agents, the best analytical minds from all over America could, from a tiny facial expression or even someone’s gait, deduce everything about a person’s character and it defects.