CSI: NY/CSI: NO crossover: City of Devils, chapter two
Title: City of Devils, chapter two
Author(s): thiscanbegin/siriusly_sex
Fandom: CSI: NY/CSI: NO
Summary: A chemical explosion leads the NY CSIs to New Orleans.
An hour and forty-five minutes later, Flack and Mac pulled out in front of Jeremiah's apartment building. "Fancy place." Flack observed, "door man and everything, that should make out job a little easier. Aren't these guys supposed to memorize names and faces?"
"They're supposed to," Mac said, taking in everything, "but that doesn't mean they always do."
"Can I help you gentlemen?" The door man asked, as Flack and Mac appeared in front of him.
Mac flashed his badge. "Detectives Mac Taylor and Don Flack, NY- HEY." before he could finish his sentence, the door man took off down the block, running at full speed. "Get the car." he yelled to Flack before taking off after the guy.
The street was crowded, which was nothing unusual for a busy New York afternoon, which was slowing down the door man, as he tried to push his way through various people going about their daily business. Just as he was about to cross the street, the car pulled up and he ran into it, with Mac a second behind him, slamming into the door man to keep him from running again.
"OW", he groaned, as Mac spun him around and slammed him on the hood of the car. "I didn't do anything."
"Then why the hell were you running? What's your name?" Mac asked, panting slightly.
"Bobby Greene." He replied, ignoring Mac's first question.
"So why were you running Bobby?" Flack asked, coming around from the other side of the car.
"I was smoking pot before my shift okay?" Bobby exclaimed; he looked like he was seconds away from bursting into tears. "Please don't arrest me, I won't do it again." Mac and Flack shared a look; they knew that they would be laughing about this later after they had solved the case.
"We're not going to arrest you." Mac stated.
"No?" Bobby asked, looking relieved. He stood up a little straighter and straightened out his door man suit. "So what can I help you guys with?" he asked.
"Donald Jeremiah, what can you tell us about him?" Flack asked.
Bobby was quiet for a minute or two, thinking about the name. "Mr. Jeremiah, from 6F?" the detectives nodded. "He's an okay guy, has a few women over every now and then, but mostly he keeps to himself. I know he's a doctor or something, I've seen him come in a few times with medical stuff, like bags and things. Sometimes he even comes in at all hours of the night. Why, what's he done?"
"He's dead." Flack said sharply.
Bobby stared at them both, before bursting out into laughter. "Dead? Impossible, I just saw him a half hour ago. Got him a cab."
Both Flack and Mac looked at him, like he was insane. Then a realization came over Mac. True he had seen a body of a white male, that was the same height and possibly the same weight as Donald Jeremiah, and he even had his ID badge. But after many years as a CSI Mac had realized that not everything appears how it does at first glance, sometimes you have to dig deeper to find the real truth.
"Take us to his apartment." Flack said dragging, Bobby off back to the apartment building.
After they made it to the apartment, Flack told Bobby to wait downstairs until he was needed, then he went about processing the room. It was a spacious apartment, and very clean, like someone rarely spent time there.
Flack, who had been watching Mac, noted that the older detective was more quiet than usual, and he had been ever since they were out on the street when Bobby had said he got Donald Jeremiah a cab half an hour before they arrived. "C'mon Mac, you don't think the kid was serious about the vic getting into a cab, were you? He was toking before he got here. Hell, he was probably still stoned out of his gourd."
"Right now, Flack, I don't know what to believe. All I know is we have to follow the evidence and any leads we may get. No matter how outlandish they may seem."
Flack just nodded, Mac was right. "I'll go talk to stoner boy and see if he can remember what cab company it was. Then call them up and see what car stopped here." Mac nodded, and Flack left.
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Adam and Danny were still processing evidence. The mass spec finally had given them some results and Adam frowned as Danny read off the chemicals they had found.
"Triacetone triperoxide, that's made using nail polish remover and hydrogen peroxide." Adam stated.
"So why would a scientist, who has access to God knows how many chemicals use TATP to blow up the building?"
"Maybe he couldn't get twenty-four hour access to chemicals?" Adam suggested. "I mean, we have to log in every time we use the chemicals, right? Maybe he did too and didn't want anyone to trace the bomb back to him."
"That makes sense. He would know which household products to use." Danny took off his gloves and pulled out his cell phone. "I think Mac was going to go to the vic's apartment, I'll give him a call and tell him what to look for."
Adam nodded and went back to the still overwhelming pile of evidence.
"Hey Mac, it's Danny. Yeah, mass spec came up with the chemical compound triacetone triperoxide. Adam says it's made from nail polish remover and hydrogen peroxide. Yeah okay. Later Mac." Danny hung up the phone and turned his attention back to Adam and the evidence.
The x-rays of Jeremiah's teeth had finally come in, and Adam was busy comparing them to the mold that Peyton had took earlier, while Danny was still filtering through locker fragments, trying to find the container or whatever it was that had held the chemicals.
"Oh boy." Adam said, worried.
"What?" Danny asked, quirking his eyebrow.
"Oh boy." Adam repeated, handing over the info he had just gathered.
"They don't match?" Danny asked, bewildered.
"Nope. That means whoever is downstairs isn't Donald Jeremiah."
"I'm afraid that's not all the bad news." Peyton said, appearing in the doorway. She held up a glass container with a bullet fragment. "While doing x-rays, I found this lodged in what's left of the vic cranium. He was shot in the back of the head, execution style. Whomever killed him, wanted it to look like he was the one who planted the chemical bomb. They most likely assumed that the explosion would take care of the body."
"Great" Danny said, folding his arms across his chest. "So we got a dead guy who isn't the dead guy we thought he was. Mac isn't going to be happy about this." he said, as he pulled out his cell phone, to call Mac again.
Back at Donald Jeremiah's apartment, Mac's phone started to ring. "Taylor," he answered quickly. He nodded quietly and listened as Danny filled him in on the new developments. He thanked Danny for filling him in and just as he hung up the phone, Flack entered the apartment. "That was Danny."
"What'd he have to say?" Flack asked. He had been outside on the phone with the cab company. More accurately, he had been outside on the phone on hold with the cab company while they tracked down the driver who had taken a client from the building about an hour earlier.
"Adam checked the dental records on file with the molding of the vic's teeth that Peyton took. They didn't match. Peyton also found bullet fragments in the guy's skull. Whoever he was, he wasn't Donald Jeremiah."
"Then you aren't going to like this Mac." Flack began, opening his notebook, "I got a hold of the cab company, and they took a fare matching Jeremiah's description to JFK. The driver mentioned something about a medical bag, like the door guy said."
Mac looked up sharply. "Did he say where he was going?"
Flack shook his head. "No, but I already called JFK and asked them to look for a guy matching the description, no matter who he says he is."
"Good work Flack. I'm going to check the rest of the apartment." Flack nodded and Mac left for the back room.
Flack, who decided he should be useful too, looked around the apartment. There were few pictures of in the living room. Donald on a boat, a few of some blonde woman. One of who he assumed must be a relative of Donald's. There was a strong resemblance, but the man he had his arm around was shorter and thinner looking. Younger brother, Flack thought. Then a photograph on the far right caught his eye. He picked it up and was just about to call for Mac, when Mac called for him.
"Flack, get in here." Mac yelled from the back room. Flack came in running.
"What the hell?" He exclaimed, looking around the room. On the opposite wall was what could best be described as a shrine of some sort. There were various candles all around it, some white, some red and some black. Most of them were half burnt, and there were pools of dried wax all over the small wooden table. There were also pins, some dolls and what looked to be like the materials used to make the dolls.
"I think these are Voodoo dolls." Mac said, picking one of them up.
"Man this guy gives us Dons a bad name," Flack mumbled out loud, before getting serious again. "Jeremiah did grow up in the south." Flack said. "He has a brother in New Orleans, I think. And that's not all. I was looking at the pictures in the living room; this guy owns his own jet, Mac."
The steady frown that Mac had on his face increased. "Call it in, let's get to JFK and hope we haven't missed him." They rushed out of the apartment, down the stairs and to the car. Flack flicked on the sirens, and then sped off.
By the time they had arrived at JFK with backup, they had missed their chance. After talking with port authority, the only useful thing they told them was that an hour, a man took Donald Jeremiah's private jet. The flight plan he gave the control tower was to New Orleans. Flack frowned, but Mac, on the other hand, grinned. "It's time to call in for a favor."
Author(s): thiscanbegin/siriusly_sex
Fandom: CSI: NY/CSI: NO
Summary: A chemical explosion leads the NY CSIs to New Orleans.
An hour and forty-five minutes later, Flack and Mac pulled out in front of Jeremiah's apartment building. "Fancy place." Flack observed, "door man and everything, that should make out job a little easier. Aren't these guys supposed to memorize names and faces?"
"They're supposed to," Mac said, taking in everything, "but that doesn't mean they always do."
"Can I help you gentlemen?" The door man asked, as Flack and Mac appeared in front of him.
Mac flashed his badge. "Detectives Mac Taylor and Don Flack, NY- HEY." before he could finish his sentence, the door man took off down the block, running at full speed. "Get the car." he yelled to Flack before taking off after the guy.
The street was crowded, which was nothing unusual for a busy New York afternoon, which was slowing down the door man, as he tried to push his way through various people going about their daily business. Just as he was about to cross the street, the car pulled up and he ran into it, with Mac a second behind him, slamming into the door man to keep him from running again.
"OW", he groaned, as Mac spun him around and slammed him on the hood of the car. "I didn't do anything."
"Then why the hell were you running? What's your name?" Mac asked, panting slightly.
"Bobby Greene." He replied, ignoring Mac's first question.
"So why were you running Bobby?" Flack asked, coming around from the other side of the car.
"I was smoking pot before my shift okay?" Bobby exclaimed; he looked like he was seconds away from bursting into tears. "Please don't arrest me, I won't do it again." Mac and Flack shared a look; they knew that they would be laughing about this later after they had solved the case.
"We're not going to arrest you." Mac stated.
"No?" Bobby asked, looking relieved. He stood up a little straighter and straightened out his door man suit. "So what can I help you guys with?" he asked.
"Donald Jeremiah, what can you tell us about him?" Flack asked.
Bobby was quiet for a minute or two, thinking about the name. "Mr. Jeremiah, from 6F?" the detectives nodded. "He's an okay guy, has a few women over every now and then, but mostly he keeps to himself. I know he's a doctor or something, I've seen him come in a few times with medical stuff, like bags and things. Sometimes he even comes in at all hours of the night. Why, what's he done?"
"He's dead." Flack said sharply.
Bobby stared at them both, before bursting out into laughter. "Dead? Impossible, I just saw him a half hour ago. Got him a cab."
Both Flack and Mac looked at him, like he was insane. Then a realization came over Mac. True he had seen a body of a white male, that was the same height and possibly the same weight as Donald Jeremiah, and he even had his ID badge. But after many years as a CSI Mac had realized that not everything appears how it does at first glance, sometimes you have to dig deeper to find the real truth.
"Take us to his apartment." Flack said dragging, Bobby off back to the apartment building.
After they made it to the apartment, Flack told Bobby to wait downstairs until he was needed, then he went about processing the room. It was a spacious apartment, and very clean, like someone rarely spent time there.
Flack, who had been watching Mac, noted that the older detective was more quiet than usual, and he had been ever since they were out on the street when Bobby had said he got Donald Jeremiah a cab half an hour before they arrived. "C'mon Mac, you don't think the kid was serious about the vic getting into a cab, were you? He was toking before he got here. Hell, he was probably still stoned out of his gourd."
"Right now, Flack, I don't know what to believe. All I know is we have to follow the evidence and any leads we may get. No matter how outlandish they may seem."
Flack just nodded, Mac was right. "I'll go talk to stoner boy and see if he can remember what cab company it was. Then call them up and see what car stopped here." Mac nodded, and Flack left.
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Adam and Danny were still processing evidence. The mass spec finally had given them some results and Adam frowned as Danny read off the chemicals they had found.
"Triacetone triperoxide, that's made using nail polish remover and hydrogen peroxide." Adam stated.
"So why would a scientist, who has access to God knows how many chemicals use TATP to blow up the building?"
"Maybe he couldn't get twenty-four hour access to chemicals?" Adam suggested. "I mean, we have to log in every time we use the chemicals, right? Maybe he did too and didn't want anyone to trace the bomb back to him."
"That makes sense. He would know which household products to use." Danny took off his gloves and pulled out his cell phone. "I think Mac was going to go to the vic's apartment, I'll give him a call and tell him what to look for."
Adam nodded and went back to the still overwhelming pile of evidence.
"Hey Mac, it's Danny. Yeah, mass spec came up with the chemical compound triacetone triperoxide. Adam says it's made from nail polish remover and hydrogen peroxide. Yeah okay. Later Mac." Danny hung up the phone and turned his attention back to Adam and the evidence.
The x-rays of Jeremiah's teeth had finally come in, and Adam was busy comparing them to the mold that Peyton had took earlier, while Danny was still filtering through locker fragments, trying to find the container or whatever it was that had held the chemicals.
"Oh boy." Adam said, worried.
"What?" Danny asked, quirking his eyebrow.
"Oh boy." Adam repeated, handing over the info he had just gathered.
"They don't match?" Danny asked, bewildered.
"Nope. That means whoever is downstairs isn't Donald Jeremiah."
"I'm afraid that's not all the bad news." Peyton said, appearing in the doorway. She held up a glass container with a bullet fragment. "While doing x-rays, I found this lodged in what's left of the vic cranium. He was shot in the back of the head, execution style. Whomever killed him, wanted it to look like he was the one who planted the chemical bomb. They most likely assumed that the explosion would take care of the body."
"Great" Danny said, folding his arms across his chest. "So we got a dead guy who isn't the dead guy we thought he was. Mac isn't going to be happy about this." he said, as he pulled out his cell phone, to call Mac again.
Back at Donald Jeremiah's apartment, Mac's phone started to ring. "Taylor," he answered quickly. He nodded quietly and listened as Danny filled him in on the new developments. He thanked Danny for filling him in and just as he hung up the phone, Flack entered the apartment. "That was Danny."
"What'd he have to say?" Flack asked. He had been outside on the phone with the cab company. More accurately, he had been outside on the phone on hold with the cab company while they tracked down the driver who had taken a client from the building about an hour earlier.
"Adam checked the dental records on file with the molding of the vic's teeth that Peyton took. They didn't match. Peyton also found bullet fragments in the guy's skull. Whoever he was, he wasn't Donald Jeremiah."
"Then you aren't going to like this Mac." Flack began, opening his notebook, "I got a hold of the cab company, and they took a fare matching Jeremiah's description to JFK. The driver mentioned something about a medical bag, like the door guy said."
Mac looked up sharply. "Did he say where he was going?"
Flack shook his head. "No, but I already called JFK and asked them to look for a guy matching the description, no matter who he says he is."
"Good work Flack. I'm going to check the rest of the apartment." Flack nodded and Mac left for the back room.
Flack, who decided he should be useful too, looked around the apartment. There were few pictures of in the living room. Donald on a boat, a few of some blonde woman. One of who he assumed must be a relative of Donald's. There was a strong resemblance, but the man he had his arm around was shorter and thinner looking. Younger brother, Flack thought. Then a photograph on the far right caught his eye. He picked it up and was just about to call for Mac, when Mac called for him.
"Flack, get in here." Mac yelled from the back room. Flack came in running.
"What the hell?" He exclaimed, looking around the room. On the opposite wall was what could best be described as a shrine of some sort. There were various candles all around it, some white, some red and some black. Most of them were half burnt, and there were pools of dried wax all over the small wooden table. There were also pins, some dolls and what looked to be like the materials used to make the dolls.
"I think these are Voodoo dolls." Mac said, picking one of them up.
"Man this guy gives us Dons a bad name," Flack mumbled out loud, before getting serious again. "Jeremiah did grow up in the south." Flack said. "He has a brother in New Orleans, I think. And that's not all. I was looking at the pictures in the living room; this guy owns his own jet, Mac."
The steady frown that Mac had on his face increased. "Call it in, let's get to JFK and hope we haven't missed him." They rushed out of the apartment, down the stairs and to the car. Flack flicked on the sirens, and then sped off.
By the time they had arrived at JFK with backup, they had missed their chance. After talking with port authority, the only useful thing they told them was that an hour, a man took Donald Jeremiah's private jet. The flight plan he gave the control tower was to New Orleans. Flack frowned, but Mac, on the other hand, grinned. "It's time to call in for a favor."