Determined not to be sniper.
Possibly individual at South Cove Inn, May 8. Caucasian, male, mid 30s, short cut light brown hair, American accent, thin but athletic. Appears “military.”
Could be sniper’s partner or hired by Metzger independently for clean up and to stop investigation, or working for cartels.
Determined to be perpetrator of Lydia Foster and Annette Bodel homicides, and IED attack at Java Hut.
Amateur or professional chef or cook of some skill.
Suspect 3: Barry Shales.
Confirmed to be sniper, code name Don Bruns.
39, former Air Force, decorated.
Intelligence specialist at NIOS. Wife is teacher. Have two sons.
Individual who placed a call to the South Cove Inn on May 7 to confirm arrival of Moreno. Call was from phone registered to Don Bruns, through NIOS cover company.
Information Services datamining Shales.
Voiceprint obtained.
Drone pilot, who fired shot that killed Moreno.
FAA and Bahamas air traffic control – evidence of drone’s flight path and presence in Bahamas.
Crime scene report, autopsy report, other details.
Crime scene cleaned and contaminated by Unsub 516 and largely useless.
General details: Bullet fired through and shattered floor to ceiling window, garden outside, poisonwood tree leaves cut back to 25 feet height. View to sniper’s nest obscured by haze and pollution.
47 fingerprints found; half analyzed, negative results. Others missing.
Candy wrappers recovered.
Cigarette ash recovered.
Bullet lodged behind couch where Moreno’s body was found, fired from drone.
Fatal round.
420 caliber, made by Walker Defense Systems, NJ.
Spitzer boattail round.
Extremely high quality.
Extremely high velocity and high power.
Rare.
Weapon: custom made.
Trace on bullet: glass dust, fiber from Moreno’s shirt and poisonwood tree leaf.
Crime Scene 2.
No sniper’s nest involved; bullets fired from drone. “Kill Room” is drone command center.
Crime Scene 2A.
Apartment 3C, 182 Augusta Street, Nassau, Bahamas.
May 15.
Victim: Annette Bodel.
COD: TBD, probably strangulation, asphyxiation.
Suspect: Determined to be Unsub 516.
Victim was probably tortured.
Trace:
Sand associated with sand found at Java Hut.
Docosahexaenoic acid – fish oil. Likely caviar or roe. Ingredient in dish from NY restaurant.
Two stroke engine fuel.
C8H8O3, vanillin. Ingredient in dish from NY restaurant.
Crime Scene 3.
Java Hut, Mott and Hester Streets.
May 16.
IED explosion, to destroy evidence of whistleblower.
Victims: No fatalities, minor injuries.
Suspect: Determined to be Unsub 516.
Military style device, anti personnel, shrapnel. Semtex explosive. Available on arms market.
Located customers in shop when whistleblower was present, canvassing for info, pictures.
Trace:
Sand from tropical region.
Crime Scene 4.
Apartment 230, 1187 Third Avenue.
May 16.
Victim: Lydia Foster.
COD: Blood loss, shock from knife wounds.
Suspect: Determined to be Unsub 516.
Hair, brown and short (from Unsub 516), sent to CODIS for analysis.
Trace:
Glycyrrhiza glabra – licorice. Ingredient in dish from NY restaurant.
Cynarine, chemical component of artichokes. Ingredient in dish from NY restaurant.
Evidence of torture.
All records of interpreting assignment for Robert Moreno on May 1 stolen.
No cell phone or computer.
Receipt for Starbucks where Lydia waited during Moreno’s private meeting on May 1.
Rumors of drug cartels behind the killings. Considered unlikely.
Supplemental Investigation.
Determine identity of Whistleblower.
Unknown subject who leaked the Special Task Order.
Sent via anonymous email.
Traced through Taiwan to Romania to Sweden. Sent from New York area on public Wi Fi, no government servers used.
Used an old computer, probably from ten years ago, iBook, either clamshell model, two tone with other bright colors (like green or tangerine). Or could be traditional model, graphite color, but much thicker than today’s laptops.
Profile:
Likely middle aged male.
Uses Splenda sweetener.
Military background?
Wears inexpensive suit, in unusual blue shade.
Uses iBook.
Possibly suffers from stomach disorder, uses Zantac.
Individual in light colored sedan following Det. A. Sachs.
Make and model not determined.
Of course, of course…
“I think I’ve got it. I need to talk to Mychal Poitier again. And, Thom, bring the van around.”
“The–”
“The van! We’re going for a drive. Sachs, you’re coming too. And you are armed, aren’t you? Oh, and somebody call detention. Have Barry Shales released. The guy’s been through enough.”
CHAPTER 82
The skinny fifty year old was a lifer in the Department of Corrections.
He was not, however, a prisoner but a guard and had been all his professional days. He actually liked the job, shepherding people through the Tombs.
The nickname of the venue – technically the Manhattan Detention Complex – suggested a place that was worse than the truth. The word went back to the 1800s and was appropriate for a prison modeled after an Egyptian mausoleum, built on an incompetently filled swamp (adding to the aroma and illness that pervaded the place) and situated in the notorious Five Points district of Manhattan – described as “the most dangerous place on earth” at that time.
In fact, the Tombs nowadays was just another lockup, although a damn big one.
Calling into intercoms, using the code word for the day to open doors, the guard now strode down the hallway to a segregated set of cells reserved for special prisoners.
Like the man he was now going to see. Barry Shales.
Over his twenty eight years as a guard here he had trained himself to have no opinion about his charges. Child killers and white collar criminals who’d embezzled from people who probably should be embezzled from…it made no difference to him. His job was to keep order and make sure the system ran smoothly. And also to ease the difficult time these people were going through.
After all, this was not prison but temporary detention, where individuals stayed until bail or transfer to Rikers or, in more than a few cases, freedom forever. Everybody here was presumably innocent. That was how the country worked.
But the man whose cell he was now walking toward was different and the guard did have an opinion about him. It was an absolute tragedy that he’d been incarcerated here.
The guard didn’t know a lot about Barry Shales’s background. But he did know that he was a former air force flier who’d fought in the war in Iraq. And that he worked for the government now, the federal government.
And yet he’d been arrested for murder. But not for killing his wife or his wife’s lover or anything like that. For killing some asshole terrorist.
Arrested, even though he was a soldier, even though he was a hero.
And the guard knew why he was here: because of politics. He’d been arrested because the party that wasn’t in power had to fuck over the one that was, by making an example of this poor guy.
The guard came to the cell and looked through the window.
Funny.
There was another prisoner in the cell, which the guard hadn’t known about. It didn’t make sense for him to be here. There was a second empty cell that the man should have been put into. The new prisoner was sitting off to the side, staring ahead blankly. The gaze made the guard feel uneasy. The eyes told you everything about the people here, much more than the crap they said.