Author: Sam

Story: Speed Trap: 14 of 23

Series: Speed-Burn

Setting: September 16, 2005: New York City.

Note: As September 28, 2005 was the first date of the second New York season, I found I was clear to do this in the time frame I wanted to, which was awesome. After all, how often do schedules and hurricanes actually mesh with the storyline, without some major tweaking?

Sub-Disclaimer: No insult is intended in the borrowing of the Police Commissioner for this story. I do not know him, nor does he know me.

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/index.html

09-14-2005: Caucasian Male; 6’0”; eyes brown; hair brown or black; heart injury or disease approx. Sept. 2004 to Dec. 2004; know. police procedures and criminal science investigation techniques; poss. witness or suspect; Urgent; Contact: Det. M. Taylor, NYPD.

The message had gone out and he’d received several responses from all over Florida, Georgia, and Alabama. Police departments of all sizes, crime labs, even the occasional bounty hunter had all responded with “No present information; will keep look out.” Some departments had yet to respond, but Mac kept sending it out, spreading the search further and further. Either he’d finally locate someone who had information, or the FBI would step in and put an end to his fishing.

At the present moment, however, Mac was nowhere near his computer nor was he even concentrating on his search for Joe Avery’s background. He was in the largest conference room the police department possessed, surrounded by all three investigation shifts as well as the lab staff. They were listening to the proposition being set forth by the Police Commissioner, Mac’s boss, and subsequently boss to the entire lab staff, if one wanted to be extremely technical.

“So, in preparation for another Katrina, we’re taking advance volunteers to go to the possible trouble zones to help local law enforcement and rescue personnel. We’ll be getting in a minimum number of replacements from other labs with larger staffs or lighter work loads, so don’t be afraid to volunteer. This will not be a paid volunteer service, but you will still receive your normal pay for administrative leave.” With a flourish, he finished in a rather grand way, “People gathered together to help after Hurricane Katrina, they gathered together to help in the Tsunami after Christmas, and they gathered together to help us,” he gestured out the window at the vast cityscape of New York City,” when terrorists hit the Trade Center. Let’s show our support and help out, too.”

Applause cascaded around the room, but Mac didn’t join in. Tropical Storm Rita may be a disaster waiting to happen, but it was hardly right to compare a storm to a terrorist attack. The sentiments were fine, the New York police should help, but the Chief had picked a very poor comparison point in the former Chicago-native’s opinion. With a frown, he kept his hands to himself and politely waited for the next part, the part where the Chief released them to put their names on lists and asked the supervisors to adjust schedules around the missing team members.

True to every disaster meeting Mac had ever attended, when the Commissioner got his fill of adulation, he nodded and raised his hands. “Okay, you can all go now. Tell your supervisors if you want to volunteer; Supervisors, be generous. We can cover a good number of experienced people volunteering so please take that into consideration. I won’t be able to stay, I have many places to go and departments to talk to, but I will leave you with the Chief for any questions you may have. Thank you and God bless New York!” With another enthusiastic burst of applause, the Commissioner left the room.

“That sounded more like a campaign speech to me.” Stella’s voice was tinged with the same disgust Mac felt.

He turned blue eyes to meet green and offered a tired smile. “So, do you want to go to Florida, Louisiana, or Texas?” He was actually teasing her, and so was surprised when she responded, “Florida, Mac. Sign me up for hurricane volunteer.”

The woman must have noticed his surprise because she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to take the opportunity to help out the south in their time of need? The Commissioner might have been making it a carnival, but they do need help. Katrina wasn’t that long ago, and Rita’s projected to hit the same areas if she makes that final jump to hurricane. They’ll need police and rescue now more than ever.”

“I’ll go,” came Danny’s voice from Mac’s other side, and the ex-Marine turned his surprised look on the blond.

“You want to slosh through polluted water and sewage to try to identify dead bodies and reconstruct water and power?” It was all fine and good to get the morale up and the volunteers coming in, but Mac felt more than ever that the Commissioner should have outlined the real expectations and not the “glory” of helping those less fortunate. “You’ll need all your shots up to date, and then some, Danny. You’d better bring a spare pair of glasses in case yours get damaged, I can guarantee they won’t have optical services for months down there. There will be infection, pollution, and no running water or electricity.” He turned fully to the younger man, ignoring the frown on his face. “People will be fighting, even killing, for one bottle of water, for the C-rations the National Guard will try to distribute. You’ll have looting and even some rioting in the worst places. And most likely, instead of police work, you’ll be stuck on body retrieval and storage. Bag and Tag, Danny, is that what you want to do?”

Danny’s spine stiffened, but at least Mac could see the other man was seriously rethinking his position.

Mac turned his eyes to the rest of his investigative and lab staff, all of who had quieted to listen when he’s dressed down Danny. “Look, I’ll take the names of any man or woman that wants to volunteer and God Speed to you all. But you better realize now, before you get down there, what you’re getting into. If you still want to go down there, knowing the truth, I’ll be proud to send you to the strike zone. If you volunteer; you’re in it for the long haul, people.” He wasn’t even aware that he’d fallen into a very old habit: that of Marine, briefing his troops before a dangerous mission.

A very long pause ensued with the staff looking at anything and anyone except Mac. Even the Chief didn’t contradict the crime lab supervisor; he preferred the volunteers to know what they’d be getting into, as well. Finally, the awkward silence was broken by Stella, her voice sure and steady.

“Put me down, Mac. I’ll go help during Rita.”

Turning his eyes to study his partner and best friend, Mac met her steady gaze. He studied her for a long moment then nodded. “Stella Bonasera. Anyone else?”

Several people who had been clamoring to go before now sheepishly hung back. Mac pretended he didn’t notice. When presented the hard facts, most people found they didn’t want to be anywhere near a natural disaster zone; they were more comfortable staying at home and sending money for the relief efforts. That was fine; the funds would be needed, too.

“I’ll go, Mac.” Again, Danny’s voice was adamant. Mac nodded, this time not questioning the man. He pulled forth the yellow legal pad he’d brought to the meeting and wrote down the two names he’d received. Looking up, letting his eyes rove the room, not singling any particular people out, he waited for any more volunteers.

Surprise once more laced through the crime lab supervisor as he heard Joe’s steady voice call out, “Put me down, Mac. I’ve done hurricane rescue before.” Mac met Joe’s steady gaze, holding it for a long moment before he finally bent to write the man’s name. He followed this, silently, with his own. If Joe was going, Mac would be there to keep an eye on him. He’d have to trust his Night Supervisor to run the lab in his absence.

“Count me in, Mac. I’ve done body recovery in sewers before.” Aiden’s voice was firm, but there was a hint of laughter there. The woman from Brooklyn was tough, never backing down from even the nastiest crime scenes. She could be relied upon to work the disaster area without shirking. Her tone, too, did wonders to relax the staff once more. It was a serious discussion, but somehow the light laughter had eased the tension and a few more names were added after Aiden’s, though none of the newer volunteers were investigators; they were lab staff.

Finally, Mac looked up. “If that’s it, I’ll meet the volunteers in my office in an hour. You’ll need to get prepared to leave. Any questions can go through myself or the Chief. Until then, back to work, and…” he looked over each of the people he worked with, firmly stating, “Thank you.” Then he left the room.

Joe, awaiting the Hurricane Rita meeting Mac had set, began working in the trace lab once more. He was quite conscious of the other tech by his side; Adam was a talkative guy. Joe realized that it was natural that he would be on a probationary status since he was so new, but after nine months? And did it have to be so blatantly obvious that they were babysitting him? Of course, it was much more pleasant when Aiden Burn or even Stella Bonasera was the babysitter, but it still annoyed the dark-haired tech. He remembered a time when he had been one of the most trusted… ah well, apparently that life was over.

Not that Joe had volunteered to give up his life or his freedom. He hadn’t done anything wrong except forget to clean his service weapon. Medical science had helped him live, but he was still paying for the stupid neglect. It had been a hard, very painful lesson, and he hadn’t forgotten the little things again; in fact, he kept a list to check off daily just so he wouldn’t slip up. But, the watchful babysitting was grating more each day. Seeing Mac sign up for the rescue duty only after Joe had volunteered made it even more obvious that the supervisor didn’t trust him; that rankled more than the in-lab-sitter he was always assigned.

There was something that bothered Joe even more than the constant guard, however.

One of the investigators, Danny Messer, wasn’t allowed in the same room with him unattended. It had only taken a couple of days to figure out that the blond man whose clothes he’d processed that first day was afraid of him. Joe couldn’t figure out why; maybe it had something to do with that old serial killer case. After all, in his past life, he’d had to keep in constant communication with Danny to help solve a serial murder that was taking place between the two jurisdictions. Could Danny have recognized his voice? If so, how had that changed to fear? It wasn’t like he’d ever threatened Danny.

With a sigh, Joe bent to study the fiber in the comparison microscope.

Ever since waking up in the hospital, things had been weird, confusing. First he had been dumped into a hell hole; Joe was beginning to believe that first agent had actually been hoping he’d die before the program had to get back to his case. Then came Agent Gideon, who was still struggling after nine months to get him the proper funds and credentials, like a driver’s license of all things. Ivana had a file on him that had all the wrong information, but he’d been too drugged to be able to form much of a response to the obvious conflict in data. Now, he was in a place that any sane person in the program would have kept him far from, working under practically house arrest, and feared by a man he’d only talked to for one case and thought he’d had a good rapport with. The sum up didn’t make things any clearer.

Unless…

Slowly straightening up, Joe’s dark brown eyes widened, fixing on a point beyond site. It couldn’t be, could it? Had the program actually confused more than his identifying marks? Had they mixed him up with…?

Jumping to his feet, startling Adam, who’d been going on about his date with a saucy redhead the night before, Joe headed for the door.

Screw this witness protection thing. He had no intention of letting the FBI railroad him if they’d gotten him mixed up with someone else, especially with a guy who, for all intents and purposes, didn’t exist any more. He wasn’t proud of all his decisions in his life, but leaving that hoodlum behind was the smartest thing he’d ever done. He wasn’t about to start paying for the mistakes of a very delusional youth misspent on the streets of New York City… not since leaving that problem behind almost fifteen years ago.

Reaching for the door, he was startled by Mac Taylor opening it and stopping, a surprised look on his boss’s face.

Mac rocked back on his heels as he nearly collided with Joe Avery. Wiping the surprise from his features, he frowned at the taller man. Avery looked like he was in a hurry, a dangerous look in those intense dark eyes. Mac could understand how Danny would be haunted by them. Somehow dark eyes like that always seemed to be evil, despite knowing that eye color didn’t denote the personality inside.

“Joe, I need to see you in my office.” He kept his voice controlled, professional, and saw the near double-take from the other man. Ever since meeting the man, Mac had noticed that Joe had a way of weighing everything he did or said. This time, however, Joe seemed to uncharacteristically jump at the chance to meet with his supervisor. Mac didn’t let on how surprising that was.

“Yes, good, I want to talk to you, too, Mac.”

The ex-Marine turned and led his newest employee towards the office, climbing the stairs and preceding him into the glass-lined room. With the coming volunteer service, Mac had determined to come right out and ask Joe about his past. He had to be sure he wasn’t taking a dangerous felon with him, especially since no one would be available to protect Danny. Once inside the office, he signaled Joe to shut the door, which he did immediately.

Getting the jump on the obviously upset man, the crime lab supervisor stepped behind his desk and calmly asked, “So, what’s on your mind, Joe?” He would see how this went before flinging his accusations and questions at the other man’s head.

It was as if the man suddenly realized where he was and what he was doing. The intense look faded from Joe’s eyes and he shoved his hands into his pockets, ignoring the fact that he still wore his gloves. Hunching slightly, as many tall men had a habit of doing, the dark-haired tech looked anywhere but at Mac. A couple of minutes passed, with Joe looking around and Mac merely waiting patiently, before finally the younger man spoke.

“After nine months, I’d think you’d know I don’t need a sitter, Mac.”

The ex-Marine merely asked, calmly, “Your background check hasn’t come through. Could you tell me why you’re in my lab instead of where you were before?”

Joe seemed to think through what he wanted to say, and Mac wondered if he’d simply get the false cover story the FBI had provided. Therefore he was surprised when Joe softly said, “I used to live in Florida. I was in a jewelry store when a shoot-out happened and I was shot in the heart.” Mac watched as Joe shook himself and stood taller, staring the ex-Marine in the eyes. “I have no idea what I stumbled onto, Mac, but now I’m here.”

Mac watched him for a long moment, mentally noting that he’d have to update his information request if this conversation didn’t stay this informative. He quietly asked, “Who is TJ Spedelli?”

As if struck, Joe flinched. It was more than obvious he recognized the name, which didn’t bode well. Mac frowned.

Finally, Joe answered, but his tone was wary. “He was someone I knew long ago… I haven’t seen him since high school. He should be dead, but…” Joe met Mac’s eyes with a straightening of his shoulders. “I’m not TJ.”

Suddenly a loud knock on the door caused both men to jump.

A fierce expression crossed Mac’s face and he looked over, seeing the rest of his volunteers. With a sigh, Mac signaled Joe that the conversation would have to wait. This certainly was not the end to his investigation of Joe Avery or TJ Spedelli.