Color of Blood(20)

Dennis ended the call and took a deep, anguished breath, letting the air filter out of his lungs slowly in a muffled hiss.





Chapter 10


They called it Grand Rounds, a not-so-inappropriate reference to a hospital-residency training program. It happened every Tuesday at 9:00 a.m. sharp.

Miller was the director of the West Australian office and ran a tight little ship.

Most of the investigators had coffee or tea in front of them, along with folders of their active cases. Miller would invariably start off with new directives from headquarters, and then he would list new national notifications or investigations of note, including their connection to Western Australia, if any. Next, he would give a brief pep talk that Judy found mawkish, invariably invoking military phrases like “let’s keep a tight order out there,” and “this war is being fought one battle at a time,” etc.

Finally Miller would turn to each investigator to give a brief update on current investigations; if two agents were involved, they’d co-present. Sometimes Miller would simply nod at an agent’s summary, but other times he would ask sharp questions, and it was important to remain vigilant, Judy found, or you’d get the full public wrath of the slightly pompous director.

The only female agent on the West Australian team, Judy was always called upon first by Miller. Initially, Judy was impressed with Miller’s decorum, as if he were opening a car door for a woman, or giving up a seat on a bus to a woman. She soon found the gesture irritating and sexist; Judy didn’t need to have her car door opened or be picked to go first because she was a woman.

She was working on seven active cases, two in conjunction with investigator Daniel Frankel, and four cases in progress in the justice system, one of which was going to trial soon.

Judy quickly ran through her cases, hoping Miller would not interrupt.

She finished the most recent case with Daniel: a drug-related murder.

“Victim was an unidentified ethnic Chinese male, estimated twenty-eight years of age,” Daniel said, looking at his notes. “An undocumented immigrant. Cause of death was a single round to the chest by an extremely powerful weapon, eh, Jude?”

“Quite,” she said. “Lynchy said he’d never seen anything like it. Round went through the victim and then through four walls, finally lodging in an outhouse.”

There were a couple of giggles from other agents at the bizarre juxtaposition of a toilet and the death of a drug gang member. Even Judy and Daniel exchanged quick glances and smiled. In the cynical, depressing world of criminal investigations, it was a pleasant relief to laugh at preposterous coincidences or peculiar anomalies. If not then, Judy had come to realize, when would any of them ever laugh?

“What kind of weapon was it?” Miller asked.

“They’re not sure, but Lynchy thinks it’s something brand new and exotic,” Daniel said.

“Like what?” Miller persisted in his not-pleasant tone of voice.

Judy and Daniel exchanged glances; the last thing they wanted was their director to start picking apart a brand new investigation in front of the other agents.

“The closest they’ve come is suggesting it’s a new assault weapon, perhaps South African. Lynchy said it might be a . . .” and here Judy looked down at her notes, “a Klaxon personal assault weapon. Oversize round. Manufacturer brags that it’s the most powerful assault weapon in the world. That’s all we have at this point,” she said, looking up.

“Motive?” Miller asked.

“Some kind of turf battle going on between two of the Triads,” Judy said.

“That’s some kind of bloody turf battle,” Miller said, “if they’re using assault weapons like that. Please write that up, Judy, and let’s send it back east. Let’s see if anyone else has seen anything like that.”

Judy and Daniel nodded, glad to be done with their part of Grand Rounds.

“Oh,” Miller said as an afterthought, “how’s that Yank thing going?”

There were several muffled giggles again around the big table as other agents pretended to adjust notebooks or reach for their coffee mugs. Judy was painfully aware that babysitting the Yank was an absurdly low-level assignment given to her because of her perpetual not-quite-equal status in the group. The fact that an attractive Aussie woman would make the Yank more docile and happy was not lost on anyone.

“It’s fine, sir, but I’m not entirely sure why it’s necessary that we have anything to do with his investigation. It seems a complete waste of time and resources.”

“Now, now, Judy,” he said in his most patronizing manner, “it’s an agreement we’ve signed with the Americans. I did one of these about nine years ago. It demonstrates to the Yanks that they just can’t traipse around Australia willy-nilly and do whatever they want, whenever they want. No, this is a good thing, and important for Australia’s dignity.”

Leave it to our posturing director to turn this bloody babysitting job into a matter of utmost patriotic importance, Judy thought.

“Right,” she said, closing her file folder.

***

The evening was pleasantly cool, and Dennis found himself walking the streets of Perth, staring into the store windows and following the flow of pedestrians as they made their way home after work.

He did not know where he was going, or really why he was leaving the hotel. He felt compelled to do something other than sit in the steak bar.