Blind Date
Squinting behind his black rimmed glasses at the gray green glare of the monitor, Harry was muttering about hidden files and encryptions. His fingers were flying across the keyboard with ease and familiarity, opening and replacing screens, as if they were Kabuki masks.
Every now and again he'd pause, look up, and scribble in his ever present notebook. He had the glass eyed, intense look, of a meth addict in the middle of a three day binge, making Pete wonder, as it always did watching him work, if suddenly Harry was going to throw his head back and let loose a madman's cackle, ala` Frankenstein, complete with an "It's alive!".
Pete chuckled to himself at the image. His partner was in the zone, lost deep into the maze of the game, hoping to hit on some morsel of information to keep them moving closer to catching the killer/thief. Pete was sitting at the opposite desk, feet up, with a mug of the thick sludge they called coffee at the precinct, tossing a baseball in the air.
He had been doing the two fingered search and peck at his computer keyboard, half-heartedly filling out the report of what they'd found, but his mind wouldn't stay on the work and it kept drifting to the puzzle of the Gauntlet case. Did the Hertzog woman stage the theft? Did someone kill her to test the so-called 'cursed' glove's authenticity?
The flash drive Harry found at the woman's desk in the museum, proved to be information on an underground ring that trafficked in stolen art work. The outfit called themselves- The Thule -and specialized in the acquisition of "Pieces of Power and other Artifacts of the Supernatural". They cited a list of supposedly arcane or occult works that they had already placed with "Discerning Collectors all over the globe!"
Harry was hunting leads to these black marketeers and so far they had produced nothing, zero, nada, zilch, for their troubles. Hence, Harry's frustrating and intense communication with the data gods.
Pete was in mid-toss when his cell phone started playing Nat King Cole's rendition of Mona Lisa (the better one, without Natalie). Glancing at the number and not recognizing the exchange, his body stiffened and he sat up, instinctively on alert. He rarely gave out his cell phone number.
Seeing his partner's change of posture, Harry instantly relinquished his cyber-mining, making a gesture for Pete to place the call on speaker phone. Readying his notebook and changing computer screens, he pointed to the phone and nodded when he was ready for Pete to answer the call.
"Theft and Fraud Investigation, Detective Harding here."
"Detective Harding? Detective Peter Harding?" A softly accented feminine voice inquired.
"Yeah, who's this and how did you get my number?" Pete asked warily.
Harry was quickly trying to track the incoming signal. While not giving them an exact location, it would narrow the search to a three block radius. They only needed a few minutes.
"Never mind that now Detective, just know that I have information you and your partner, Detective Duran need. Please meet me at the Battery Park tunnel, north entrance at seven o'clock this evening."
"Now wait a minute, information about what? What's this about? You're going to have to give us more than that. Who are you? Do you have the Gauntlet? Why should we meet you?" Pete growled into the phone.
"Just know that I'm on your side, Detective Harding, and that there are forces at work here that you and your partner are not equipped to handle. Not without understanding what you're up against. Remember, Battery Park, north entrance at seven o'clock. It will be to your benefit. Tell Detective Duran to stop his trace now." The caller disconnected.
Pete put his phone down, sat back and looked at his partner.
"That was cryptic." Harry dryly remarked. "So, who'd you give your number too?"
Pete snorted, "Really? You're going with that? That's your question?"
"Seemed like the right question to ask."
Pete snorted again. "Get anything?"
Harry flashed him a sarcastic look over the rim his glasses, "Really?"
"Yeah." Pete gave a long suffering sigh, "I knew that."
"Look on the bright side."
"There's a bright side?"
"Always."
"Ok, I'll bite. What is it?"
"We've got a date."
****
The wind blowing through the tunnel was biting. It was full dark and the only people left in the park, were either walking their dogs, pooper scoopers and baggies in hand, or teenagers gathering to figure out what havoc to wreak on the night. The partners had dressed warmly but the cold still managed to seep through the layers. They were both getting antsy, and Harry checked his phone, again, for the time.
"It's almost 7:20." Harry informed Pete. "Fashionably late?"
"Could be, but I've got a feeling that isn't it."
"Stood us up?"
"What's with the date terminology?"
Harry shrugged. "Been a while."
Pete snorted and rolled his eyes. "C'mon who would stand up two fine specimens of male virility like us?" He joked. "Well, like me anyway." Pete amended.
Harry chuffed in response.
They had each gone home to shower, shave, and grab something to eat before coming to the meet requested by Pete's mysterious caller. The partners had reviewed all the information they had dug up and were thoroughly stalled. They were hoping this -informant?- would give them a lead or three to follow.
Now they were waiting, breath pluming in the cold, a beacon to their location for anyone watching. It made them both uneasy to be so exposed and every nerve was jangling.
They were about to give up the cause and assume their mystery date was a no show, when they heard the unmistakable clicking of heels on concrete. Dropping back into the shadows, Pete and Harry waited for the footsteps to come closer.
Coming from the south entrance of the tunnel, backlit by the park lights, was a smallish female figure in a peacoat. She hesitated a moment when she saw them, as if weighing her options, then continued purposefully in their direction.
She had her hands in her pockets. Coming closer she removed them, along with a snub nosed .38 caliber, while assuming a two handed grip. She was obviously nervous, her arms visibly shaking. Pete hoped the piece didn't have a hair trigger and wouldn't accidently shoot someone.
"Detective Harding? Detective Duran? Do you have ID?" She queried in what seemed to be, a soft British accent.
"Easy now with that pea shooter, Miss. I have to reach into my coat pocket for it, so does Detective Duran. We won't make any sudden movements. I give you my word. Slow and steady now, alright?" Pete spoke in a soothing tone, hoping to keep her calm.
The women nodded her agreement, not changing from the shooter's stance, arms still shaking. "After retrieving your badges, please hold them up and keep your hands where I can see them." Her voice trembling with either fear or tension.
The partners slowly took out their badges and showed them to her, using extra caution to keep their hands in her sight as requested. Neither one of them wanting to take down a woman.
Looking at their identification and satisfied they were who they claimed to be, the tension drained from her and she put the gun away.
"Sorry about that gentlemen, there have been some rather unsavory fellows shadowing me and I needed to be sure. I had a hard time losing them and it is the reason for my late arrival. Again, my apologies."
"Unsavory fellows? In what way?" Pete asked, tucking his badge back into his jacket.
"People who would happily contribute to my demise, Detective, that sort of unsavory, and I'm quite partial to living." She flashed him a smile, giving them a glimpse of even white teeth.
"Why you?" Harry grunted with his usual verbosity.
"Why else? Because I know too much. Isn't that always the reason, Detective Duran?" She replied matter of factly with another quick smile.
"No." Harry grumbled, still miffed from having a gun pulled on him, and worse - by a girl!
"What my partner means to say, Miss," Pete jumped in, giving his partner the side eye. "Is you know too much about what? And why kill you to keep it quiet?" Pete asked her in a gentler tone.
"The Thule, of course. If I hadn't given Elena my flash drive with their information on it to hide, she'd still be alive." She finished the last sentence choking back tears.
She took a moment to compose herself and continued. "I've been hunting them down for over a year now. They have something that belongs to our family."
"Family?" Harry asked trying for a more civil tone.
"Yes, family, Detective Duran." She replied firmly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't properly introduce myself and I suppose that would be helpful. I'm Elsa, Elsa Hertzog Kincaid."
"Elena is," her voice hitching again, "was my sister."
Every now and again he'd pause, look up, and scribble in his ever present notebook. He had the glass eyed, intense look, of a meth addict in the middle of a three day binge, making Pete wonder, as it always did watching him work, if suddenly Harry was going to throw his head back and let loose a madman's cackle, ala` Frankenstein, complete with an "It's alive!".
Pete chuckled to himself at the image. His partner was in the zone, lost deep into the maze of the game, hoping to hit on some morsel of information to keep them moving closer to catching the killer/thief. Pete was sitting at the opposite desk, feet up, with a mug of the thick sludge they called coffee at the precinct, tossing a baseball in the air.
He had been doing the two fingered search and peck at his computer keyboard, half-heartedly filling out the report of what they'd found, but his mind wouldn't stay on the work and it kept drifting to the puzzle of the Gauntlet case. Did the Hertzog woman stage the theft? Did someone kill her to test the so-called 'cursed' glove's authenticity?
The flash drive Harry found at the woman's desk in the museum, proved to be information on an underground ring that trafficked in stolen art work. The outfit called themselves- The Thule -and specialized in the acquisition of "Pieces of Power and other Artifacts of the Supernatural". They cited a list of supposedly arcane or occult works that they had already placed with "Discerning Collectors all over the globe!"
Harry was hunting leads to these black marketeers and so far they had produced nothing, zero, nada, zilch, for their troubles. Hence, Harry's frustrating and intense communication with the data gods.
Pete was in mid-toss when his cell phone started playing Nat King Cole's rendition of Mona Lisa (the better one, without Natalie). Glancing at the number and not recognizing the exchange, his body stiffened and he sat up, instinctively on alert. He rarely gave out his cell phone number.
Seeing his partner's change of posture, Harry instantly relinquished his cyber-mining, making a gesture for Pete to place the call on speaker phone. Readying his notebook and changing computer screens, he pointed to the phone and nodded when he was ready for Pete to answer the call.
"Theft and Fraud Investigation, Detective Harding here."
"Detective Harding? Detective Peter Harding?" A softly accented feminine voice inquired.
"Yeah, who's this and how did you get my number?" Pete asked warily.
Harry was quickly trying to track the incoming signal. While not giving them an exact location, it would narrow the search to a three block radius. They only needed a few minutes.
"Never mind that now Detective, just know that I have information you and your partner, Detective Duran need. Please meet me at the Battery Park tunnel, north entrance at seven o'clock this evening."
"Now wait a minute, information about what? What's this about? You're going to have to give us more than that. Who are you? Do you have the Gauntlet? Why should we meet you?" Pete growled into the phone.
"Just know that I'm on your side, Detective Harding, and that there are forces at work here that you and your partner are not equipped to handle. Not without understanding what you're up against. Remember, Battery Park, north entrance at seven o'clock. It will be to your benefit. Tell Detective Duran to stop his trace now." The caller disconnected.
Pete put his phone down, sat back and looked at his partner.
"That was cryptic." Harry dryly remarked. "So, who'd you give your number too?"
Pete snorted, "Really? You're going with that? That's your question?"
"Seemed like the right question to ask."
Pete snorted again. "Get anything?"
Harry flashed him a sarcastic look over the rim his glasses, "Really?"
"Yeah." Pete gave a long suffering sigh, "I knew that."
"Look on the bright side."
"There's a bright side?"
"Always."
"Ok, I'll bite. What is it?"
"We've got a date."
****
The wind blowing through the tunnel was biting. It was full dark and the only people left in the park, were either walking their dogs, pooper scoopers and baggies in hand, or teenagers gathering to figure out what havoc to wreak on the night. The partners had dressed warmly but the cold still managed to seep through the layers. They were both getting antsy, and Harry checked his phone, again, for the time.
"It's almost 7:20." Harry informed Pete. "Fashionably late?"
"Could be, but I've got a feeling that isn't it."
"Stood us up?"
"What's with the date terminology?"
Harry shrugged. "Been a while."
Pete snorted and rolled his eyes. "C'mon who would stand up two fine specimens of male virility like us?" He joked. "Well, like me anyway." Pete amended.
Harry chuffed in response.
They had each gone home to shower, shave, and grab something to eat before coming to the meet requested by Pete's mysterious caller. The partners had reviewed all the information they had dug up and were thoroughly stalled. They were hoping this -informant?- would give them a lead or three to follow.
Now they were waiting, breath pluming in the cold, a beacon to their location for anyone watching. It made them both uneasy to be so exposed and every nerve was jangling.
They were about to give up the cause and assume their mystery date was a no show, when they heard the unmistakable clicking of heels on concrete. Dropping back into the shadows, Pete and Harry waited for the footsteps to come closer.
Coming from the south entrance of the tunnel, backlit by the park lights, was a smallish female figure in a peacoat. She hesitated a moment when she saw them, as if weighing her options, then continued purposefully in their direction.
She had her hands in her pockets. Coming closer she removed them, along with a snub nosed .38 caliber, while assuming a two handed grip. She was obviously nervous, her arms visibly shaking. Pete hoped the piece didn't have a hair trigger and wouldn't accidently shoot someone.
"Detective Harding? Detective Duran? Do you have ID?" She queried in what seemed to be, a soft British accent.
"Easy now with that pea shooter, Miss. I have to reach into my coat pocket for it, so does Detective Duran. We won't make any sudden movements. I give you my word. Slow and steady now, alright?" Pete spoke in a soothing tone, hoping to keep her calm.
The women nodded her agreement, not changing from the shooter's stance, arms still shaking. "After retrieving your badges, please hold them up and keep your hands where I can see them." Her voice trembling with either fear or tension.
The partners slowly took out their badges and showed them to her, using extra caution to keep their hands in her sight as requested. Neither one of them wanting to take down a woman.
Looking at their identification and satisfied they were who they claimed to be, the tension drained from her and she put the gun away.
"Sorry about that gentlemen, there have been some rather unsavory fellows shadowing me and I needed to be sure. I had a hard time losing them and it is the reason for my late arrival. Again, my apologies."
"Unsavory fellows? In what way?" Pete asked, tucking his badge back into his jacket.
"People who would happily contribute to my demise, Detective, that sort of unsavory, and I'm quite partial to living." She flashed him a smile, giving them a glimpse of even white teeth.
"Why you?" Harry grunted with his usual verbosity.
"Why else? Because I know too much. Isn't that always the reason, Detective Duran?" She replied matter of factly with another quick smile.
"No." Harry grumbled, still miffed from having a gun pulled on him, and worse - by a girl!
"What my partner means to say, Miss," Pete jumped in, giving his partner the side eye. "Is you know too much about what? And why kill you to keep it quiet?" Pete asked her in a gentler tone.
"The Thule, of course. If I hadn't given Elena my flash drive with their information on it to hide, she'd still be alive." She finished the last sentence choking back tears.
She took a moment to compose herself and continued. "I've been hunting them down for over a year now. They have something that belongs to our family."
"Family?" Harry asked trying for a more civil tone.
"Yes, family, Detective Duran." She replied firmly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't properly introduce myself and I suppose that would be helpful. I'm Elsa, Elsa Hertzog Kincaid."
"Elena is," her voice hitching again, "was my sister."