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Case No.: 2010-81-039612-POP-N-DROP

Notes: SNU 2010-56-9280 Gartner was a criminal defense lawyer. Found dead with a client, one John “JC” NGUYEN Case No.: 2010- 81-039611-Pop-n-Drop. Large-bore gunshot to head. clear packing tape wrapped around head, covering mouth and nose. Garbage bag over head sealed with packing tape. Packing tape also bound wrists and ankles. One (1) spent shell casing Glock .45 caliber found in alleyway behind Gartner’s law office. Also recovered from inside law office were zipper-top bags, one containing cocaine and one with 53 tablets of Rohypnol. And a large volume (possibly in excess of a gallon) of urine, source unknown, poured around office. Body transported to Lex Talionis, Old City.

“Well, no surprise there,” Matt Payne said.

“Why’s that, Matt?” Harris asked.

“Kerry, go ahead and click on his SNU. I think I know where this is going.”

The Colt pistol pointer fired and smoked over the hyperlink. A box headlined “Suspect Name Unknown #2010-56-9280” popped up. It had seven different sets of fingerprints, some with two or three fingers, one with only a finger and thumb. And it had seven case file hyperlinks: Daniel O. “Danny” GARTNER Case No.: 2010-81-039612-Pop-n-Drop

John “JC” NGUYEN Case No.: 2010-81-039611-Pop-n-Drop

Jerome WHITEN Case No.: 2010-81-039605-Pop-n-Drop

Dion THOMPSON Case No.: 2010-81-039598-Pop-n-Drop

Jason “Whitey” WALSH Case No.: 2010-81-039593-Pop-n-Drop

Jamaal ROSS Case No.: 2010-81-039589-Pop-n-Drop

Juan RIVERA Case No.: 2010-81-039582-Pop-n-Drop

“Holy shit!” Tony Harris said. “The prints are from the same doer.”

“Yeah,” Payne said, his tone frustrated. “I thought I recognized that SNU number when I saw it.”

“And not a single hit with IAFIS?”

“Nope, not one,” Payne said. “The problem is all we get with this guy’s fingerprints is more of his fingerprints. He makes no effort to cover his tracks. It’s incredible.”

“And piss,” Corporal Kerry Rapier said. “Don’t forget the piss.”

“Right,” Payne said. “And the useless piss.”

Payne looked at the list.

“I can damn near recite from memory everything about those first five, mostly because what little we have on them is pretty much the same. Starting with, of course, whoever the hell shot them. All male fugitives—three black, one white, and one Hispanic, an illegal alien—with a history of sex crimes against women or children. All shot either in the head or chest at point-blank range. The only autopsy results we have so far are from them.

Rivera”—he gestured at the second bank of monitors—“there on number sixteen, had two full-metal-jacket 9-millimeter rounds in his chest. Whitey Walsh, on number fifteen, the lone white guy, must have had one helluva hard head, because somehow a jacketed hollow-point .45-caliber round went in at the base of his skull and stayed there after scrambling his brains.”

“Jesus!” Harris said. “That’s the kind of thing that generally happens only with a .22-caliber round.”

“Yeah,” Payne said. “Which suggests that maybe—just maybe—our doer is loading his own ammo and making light loads for his targeted killings. Or just a bad round. Either way, shot from a Glock. Ballistics, of course, caught the unique scoring made by the rifling in Glock barrels.”

Harris nodded. “There was that Glock .45-cal shell casing behind Gartner’s office. It’d be a long shot, but wouldn’t surprise me to hear the doer’s prints also came off that brass.”

“Yeah,” Payne said, nodding thoughtfully. Then he went on: “And get this: The autopsies also found that all five had STDs.”

“How nice,” Harris said dryly. “The gift that keeps on giving. Especially when you rape someone. Damned animals.”

Payne said: “Which I’ve come to learn is not that unusual, particularly in certain circles.”

Rapier offered, “The stats are that one out of five people over age twelve in America has herpes.”

Harris shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“One in five over twelve?” Payne repeated. “That’ll put the fear of God in you. How’d you become such an expert on the subject, Kerry?”