Chapter 136

The station was a chaotic symphony. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a directionless discord of people running in panicked circles. But it was coordinated madness. Everyone had their specific instructions. And the common goal was to find out what happened to Robert Stewart and put an end to the nightmare.
Captain Whitlock and the forensics team rushed into the station where the IT analyst was waiting for them. The rest of them split of to continue their various tasks.
“Where is Mario?” Captain Whitlock shouted over the din.
“In here, Captain,” he called out.
“Good to see you, Mario,” Captain Whitlock greeted him with a quick handshake. Mario Arnaz was a young, brilliant IT analyst. If there was anything of worth on that drive, he would find it.
“Good to see you too, sir. On the phone you mentioned something about a USB drive?”
“Yes, here it is.” Captain Whitlock produced the drive and handed it over.
“I ran a quick check on it back at the estate but was unable to find anything important. I figured someone with better eyes should take a look.”
“Well, I’ve got the best eyes on the force, sir. I’ll take a look.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in my office. Come get me if you find anything.”
“Absolutely.” Mario scurried away while Captain Whitlock carried his weary body into his office.
He sunk into his chair, feeling about twenty years old than he actually was.
“I swear to God, I’m retiring after we close this damn case. I’m going to change my name, move to Aruba and never be heard from again,” he sighed, letting his head fall back. During his long career, he’d seen some pretty horrendous scenes. He’d seen it all. This case wasn’t anywhere near as gruesome as things he’d seen. But there was something about it… that didn’t sit right with him. Something about this case disturbed him; it sat like lead in the pit of his stomach.
“Captain!” Mario skidded into his office, laptop in hand. “I found something you need to see.” Captain Whitlock sat up and made room on his desk. Mario set the laptop on a cleared space and perched in an extra chair.
“There was a hidden file, and in that file, there was a video. Based on the crime scene photos I was sent, the video seems that it was taken in the same room the murder occurred in.”
“From what angle?” The hadn’t found any cameras in the study when they searched initially.
“It seems it was directly across the desk. On the wall.”
“I’ll have them search again. There may be more valuable info on that camera. We’ll worry about that later. Play the video.”
***
A man with short salt and pepper sat at a desk. A mountain of paperwork buried the luxurious mahogany desk. He scribbled away in a notebook with a furious hand.
“Mr. Stewart,” a rattled housekeeper squeaked at the door.
“I said I was not to be bothered, Tilda,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Sir,” she gulped. “You have a visitor.”
“I said no visitors!” he slammed his hands on the table.
“Not even me?” a man’s voice. It was jovial, conversational. He stepped into the frame, but his back stayed to the camera. Robert Stewart was visibly shaken by his guest. He shot up and plastered an overly enthusiastic smile on his face.
“Of-of course, you are an exception,” he stammered. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Would you like a drink?”
The mysterious man kept his back to the camera, as though he knew it was there. It clearly wasn’t his first visit. It was unclear if Robert knew of his guest’s awareness of the hidden surveillance. He was tall, the top of his head out of the frame. His broad back and shoulders made him look like he could rip out of his plain black t-shirt with a simple flex of his muscles. The black fabric of the shirt stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. Like a piece of coal fallen on the snow.
“Your payment is late,” he quipped, his voice bright. “Wanted to know when I could expect that.”
“Oh, yes. I am w-working on that. I should have a partial payment ready soon.”
“A partial payment?” he clicked his tongue, like scolding a child. “Well, that just won’t do. I lent you a considerable sum. We negotiated specific terms.”
“I understand… but things have gotten complicated. My original connection fell through. I’m having to sell my shares of the company.”
“And that would amount to a partial payment?” His words were laced with a mocking edge.
“Yes. I would be about 20 million short,” Robert flinched.
“Selling all of your shares and you’d still owe that much that?” the man laughed. “Not very important, are you?”
“The company isn’t mine, as we have discussed.” Robert was annoyed, but too afraid of his visitor to say anything more.
“Yes,” he mused. “Your nephew. He is quite popular around here.”
“He is. It makes moving things around rather difficult.”
“You mean he found out about your little paper company and your game with that construction company?”
“How did you…”
“Oh, Robbie.” The man walked forward and clapped a heavy hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Can I call you Robbie?” he continued without waiting for an answer. “I know everything about my clients.”
Robert yelped as the stranger’s grip tightened.
“But… but of course. How silly of me to assume…”
“I’m going to make a suggestion,” he said. His voice was no longer light and chipper. It was dark, menacing, and angry. “Get me my money. Perhaps you should ‘borrow’ it from that nephew of yours. And… we may be able to do more business together.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… I want more than the 20 million you owe me. And you do too.”
The video was suddenly cut off.
Captain Whitlock and Mario were stunned into silence. There was a bigger player here.
Robert Stewart was a puppet himself. But who was this mysterious puppet master?
“Holy shit,” Mario whispered.
“’Holy shit’ is right,” the captain agreed. “Thank you, Mario. Please get the team on the scene to find that camera and analyze if there is any other footage on it.”
“Yes, sir.” Mario dashed out of the office. Captain Whitlock called the detective over and they watched video at least twenty more times before either of them noticed it. On the man’s neck, he could make out a portion of a tattoo. The rest was obscured by his clothing, but he could make out the exposed part. It was a claw of some kind. Could it be gang related? It was a distinctive mark.
“That’s different,” she said. “I don’t recognize it as any gang insignias. Do you?”
“No. Can you go…”
“Run a database check for anyone in the system with any sort of claw-like tattoos and see if there is any connection?” she finished for him.
“You’re the best. Let me know what you find.”
“Yes sir.” She left his office. When she was out of sight and ear shot, he grabbed his phone and called Alex.
“Any of your men have a giant tattoo on their back? Something with a claw?” he asked.
“No. We don’t allow for distinguishing marks like that. Why?” he asked.
“I have something. And I need to find someone with a back tattoo that has some kind of claw on it.”
“A claw? Like on a bird or lion or something like that?”
“I can’t tell. But anything with a claw. Does that seem familiar to you?”
“No, but I’ll look into it. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Tread softly. We thought this was big before, but it’s bigger than even I could have anticipated.”
“You know no one ever sees me coming.”
Captain Whitlock scoffed at Alex’s cocky attitude, but it was exactly what he needed.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”