wound suggested a hollow point bullet, meant to shred and kill, rather than wound or maim. Brain matter was splattered against the back of the wall in a diameter of about fifteen inches, confirming that the back of the victim’s skull had literally exploded against the impact of the hollow point. Lieutenant Morris also recognized a small hole in the wall. It was at the center of the crimson splash of blood and brains from the victim’s head. This small hole was unquestionably made by the slug that was fired through Frank Santos’s cranium. Retrieving the slug would provide the caliber of the weapon used, though it probably wouldn’t be of much use beyond that. If, as he suspected, the murderer was a professional, the gun used was most likely untraceable. Still, there was a good bit of information to be gathered from this crime scene.
“Got anything, Sergeant?” Morris asked as he entered Dr. Levassuer’s lab.
“Not really. It looks like an unplanned entry, from what we can determine,” responded Sergeant Chino. “Stuff’s been shoved around to make it look like they were searching for something, but Dr. Levassuer claims that nothing’s missing. We got his statement.”
“Anything interesting?”
Sergeant Chino shrugged, looking at his notes. “You be the judge,” he replied, peering over the rim of his reading glasses. Chino had a reputation for short, terse statements. “Levassuer says he was walking down the stairs and was overpowered by two men dressed in black and wearing hoods. Both men were of medium height and build. He claims they approached him from below, but before he realized what was happening, they knocked him out. He came to sometime later, but distinctly remembers hearing a helicopter above the building. His statement corroborates what we’ve discovered on the roof.”
“Okay, good work, Sergeant,” Morris replied. “Who’s on the roof?”
“Sergeant Cristobel and his SWAT guys are up there. They found discarded climbing gear, rope, and two parachutes. Apparently the perps parachuted onto the roof, set an anchor, and rappelled into the fifth-floor office occupied by a Dr. Jarrod Conrad. Sergeant Reynolds is up there now,” Chino summarized so Morris could assess which location to check on next. “Let me know if I can help out on the fifth floor, Lieutenant,” he volunteered, hoping to get involved in the more exciting part of the crime investigation.
“No…I want this area to have your full attention, Sergeant,” Morris instructed. He was well aware of Chino’s ambitious nature. “I want everything documented before the coroner moves the victim; make sure nothing’s overlooked. After the victim is moved and the scene is cleared, you can join us on the fifth floor. Understood?” he said politely. But he had not meant it to be anything other than an order.
“Affirmative,” Sergeant Chino replied, not enthused with his orders but accepting them nonetheless. “I’ll make sure this scene is cleared by the book.”
As Lieutenant Morris made his way to the fifth floor, he called Hawkley to give his preliminary findings from the homicide scene. He reported that the murder was committed by at least two professionals while attempting to obscure their primary crime: the burglary on the fifth floor. Hawkley was intrigued and asked for an immediate report on the fifth-floor break-in as soon as it was available.
David Morris emerged from the elevator and proceeded to the open door about halfway down the long corridor of labs. The fifth floor of the Quantum Building seemed to be a little less clinical than the third floor. There were large photos adorning the walls along the full length of the corridor. One particularly striking photo dominated the area just off the elevator: the classic portrait of Albert Einstein-white hair a mess, chalk in hand, drawing complex equations on a blackboard. Another depicted Robert Oppenheimer at his lab in Los Alamos, New Mexico. At several locations throughout the corridor, placards displayed radioactive warning signs about the use of nuclear isotopes. There was little doubt that the fifth floor was conducting atomic energy research.
As Morris approached the lab, several SWAT officers in camouflage turnouts were just leaving. He questioned them briefly and was joined shortly by Detective Sergeant Mark Reynolds from inside the lab. The nameplate showed the office belonged to Jarrod Conrad, Ph. D.
“Evening, Detective,” Morris said, shaking Reynolds’s hand. “Got anything interesting?”
“Hi, Dave…another thrilling evening in Gotham, eh,” Reynolds said sardonically, trying for a bit of levity.
“Never a dull moment, Mr. Wayne,” Morris replied. “Tell me the Riddler hasn’t resurfaced.”
“Riddle me this…” Reynolds continued dryly. “Here’s the synopsis.”
Reynolds paused briefly, clearing his throat. “It appears that two men parachuted onto the roof and rappelled over the south side of the building. They then breached the office at the anterior of the lab, and hacked the main computer server from that office work station,” he said pointing to the computer terminal. “We haven’t determined what was taken, but they weren’t in the office more than about twenty minutes, tops. They had detailed reconnaissance of the building. Someone very connected put this together, Lieutenant.”
Sergeant Reynolds had a particular expertise for solving crimes involving industrial espionage and computer theft. When he believed something was a certainty, most high-ranking superiors in the department considered it an incontrovertible fact.
“Thanks for the update, Mark,” Morris replied. “No surprises, then?”
“Well…actually… yes, there is a surprise of sorts. We found a crumpled piece of paper under the sofa with a phone number on it. It was written on a scratch pad from a construction company in Bernalillo, New Mexico. It’s unlikely the perpetrators would have dropped this paper; they’re too well choreographed to make that mistake. If they left it behind, it had a purpose…they wanted it found.”
“Let me see the note,” Morris asked.
Reynolds reached for a large zip-lock bag containing the previously crumpled-up paper. It was lying on a service table at the side of the office. He handed it to Morris. “We haven’t had time to dust for prints but we’ll get on this first thing at the lab,” he said, watching Morris examine the contents of the bag, turning it back and forth several times trying to get a sense of why this note would be in the office.
Morris read the note aloud, “‘Check with Apache Steel about delivery of BigMo.’ It could belong to the occupant of the office, couldn’t it?” Morris guessed.
“Sure could…but I doubt it,” Reynolds shrugged. “We won’t know until we can question the owner-Dr. Jarrod Conrad. From notes on his desk, it looks like he’s conducting some kind of gravity research. I’ve also called Sal Palatino. He’s on his way. Let’s see if he can get into the server. He’ll be able to tell us if anything was copied or corrupted.” Reynolds concluded his statements succinctly, taking the zip-lock back from Lieutenant Morris. He slipped it into his jacket pocket.
“Okay. I assume you’ve assigned someone to contact this New Mexico Company about a connection to Dr. Conrad?”
“Already called dispatch,” Reynolds replied. “They have the number. We’ll know who owns this company and what they do by morning. Someone from the local PD will pay them a visit tomorrow. Conrad may also be able to clear the whole thing up.”
“Okay, tell me about this breach,” Morris questioned, walking toward the hole in the window. “Looks pretty clean. How’d they get past the alarm?” he asked, pointing to one of the deactivated sensors in the corner of the office.
“Again…these guys are pros, Lieutenant, and their recon is some of the best available. They knew beforehand the type of sensors they’d encounter. The breach took less than a minute or the sensors would have recalibrated. This is a very cool customer.”
Morris rubbed his forehead. He closed his eyes, trying to assimilate all the details from Detective Reynolds. “Alright, I get the picture,” he said drawing a big breath. “It’ll be interesting to find out what these two were after.”
Reynolds nodded. “I’ll bet it was something damned important.”
“You’re probably right. Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Morris continued, still massaging his temples. He reverted to this habit whenever he wanted to focus his concentration. “We’ve got two perps dressed in ninja garb. They jump onto the roof, rappel down to the fifth floor, and enter this office to grab something from Conrad’s computer. Then they exit, but meet an eyewitness, which forces an unplanned diversion into the lab on level three. This alerts the security guards, one of whom responds and they blow him away. They immediately retreat to the roof, get picked off by helicopter, and are presently at large in the city. Does that about sum it up, Detective?” Morris asked, looking bemused by the recitation of facts.
“You got it-so far as we can tell, Lieutenant,” Reynolds replied. “Shall we visit the roof before heading back to the CP?”
“Yeah, let’s complete the circuit just in case Hawkley asks me something in particular,” he replied. He
