I had hoped that some idiot had snuck into my hotel room and filled my six-pack of soda with belladonna. That was not the case. Gabriel had actually gone back to the store where I had bought it and picked up several more. Three had tested positive for belladonna, along with the bottle of soda I had saved.
Now, we were assembled in a huge room in the US Marshals building. The head guy of the field office was looking irritated as he and Gabriel talked. They were about to issue a tamper warning to a room full of reporters. I wasn’t sure who was angrier about it, Gabriel or the head guy. It wasn’t as if we had brought doom and gloom to their fair city, but it did feel that way.
As we stood waiting for the press conference to begin, millions of bottles of soda were being removed from shelves all over Sioux Falls. It wasn’t just Mountain Dew or Pepsi products, they’d found it in Coca-Cola and 7-Up, proving that the bottles had been tampered with after they arrived in stores. Our next job was to start reviewing security cameras looking for suspicious people hanging around the soda areas. I was pretty sure this was going to be everyone that stood in the soda aisle. Even I had trouble deciding between Mt. Dew and Coke on occasions. I avoided Pepsi. It just didn’t have the bite that I enjoyed.
I was still struggling with the idea that someone was evil enough to poison soda. There were better things to poison. I wasn’t sure what yet, but I’d come up with something eventually.
“At 10:30 a.m., a massive recall of all bottled soda and sweetened drinks began. A state lab has confirmed that traces of the poison, belladonna, have been found in some of them. At this time, we are not sure of the scope of the contamination. However, it does not appear to be brand specific...” The head guy of the South Dakota US Marshals Department continued to talk. I failed to listen. We were going to have thousands of people rushing the ERs to see if they had ingested the poison. Thankfully, Marshals with ER guard duty were more personable than I was. Meaning, I was too rude to do the job. I’d get to go through security videos instead.
Towards the back, one guy caught my attention. He was very tall and he was white. I tried to get Lucas’s attention. He frowned at me as I tried not to make a scene. As casually as possible, I gestured to the back. Lucas’s frown deepened, I was guessing that was a no on the recognition scale. He moved closer to me. Gabriel watched the two of us and he also moved in.
In a strange game of Charades, where I couldn’t actually move, I attempted to communicate that I wanted to sneak around the back and talk to the guy. However, my attempts gained me puzzled looks. Then Xavier noticed and attempted to lean towards us and figure out my coded mini-gestures.
I gave up and glared towards the general direction of the tall man. Gabriel gently stepped on my foot to stop it from tapping. As a petite woman, I was the least obvious of the group. No one was focused on me anyway. I pulled my foot out and stepped backwards a couple of feet, until I had disappeared behind a curtain. I hoped my exit wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
The corridor was crowded and noisy. An outraged public was demanding answers, answers no one had or would give. Moving into the back of the conference room was going to be impossible. There were way too many people. Instead, I jostled and pushed my way through the outraged citizens of Sioux Falls, South Dakota and into the sunlight.
The street was just as crowded and even more outraged. Their fears were justified, at least to some degree. No one wanted to be poisoned, especially not while enjoying their favorite sweet drink. Also, it was the age of bottled water. Drinking tap water was unfashionable. However, we couldn’t guarantee that even bottled water was safe. Of course, a person would taste belladonna in water, as long as they weren’t adding stuff to it.
Suddenly, I realized exactly what the problem with society was. It wasn’t our lust for sweet drinks. It was our lust for sweet drinks with no calories. I wasn’t a fan of diet sodas because they tasted exceptionally sweet, and had a bit of leftover flavor that clung to the uvula. In diet soda, I could not be sure anyone would notice belladonna. It was syrupy sweet, like artificial sweeteners mixed with high fructose corn syrup or the crap people sprayed into water to make it taste better, which happened to be filled with the same syrupy sweet artificial sweeteners.
The public had a right to be outraged. Our most sacred liquids were now tainted with a poison that just enhanced the flavor. We were all back to drinking tap water without any flavorings and no one wanted to drink tap water.
The Tylenol Murders had been well planned and well executed, but they were nothing compared to the chaos and panic that was about to erupt on the streets. It was visible, if one looked hard enough. Angry faces glared menacingly at cops who attempted to hold them back. They wanted to storm the US Marshals’ building, demanding reassurances for their fears, reassurances that we couldn’t give them. However, it wasn’t the angry faces that were the most disturbing. It was the calm ones.
These faces were just waiting for their moment. Some sign that the police and Marshals were tiring or losing ground and they would strike. They would be the instigators that would turn this from people demanding answers to people rioting.
My interest in the tall man was wavering. Sure, I could find a good spot to wait for him or I could do what I did best. I could walk through this crowd and pick out the troublemakers, the sociopaths and psychopaths that would turn this thing into a free-for-all. I searched for someone with a bullhorn or other loud device. I wanted the crowd’s attention. I had a plan to diffuse the situation.
After a few moments of searching, I found a guy in a uniform with a loudspeaker. He was shouting instructions to the crowd. They were the wrong instructions. I walked over, flashed my credentials and asked for the device that he was using as a microphone.
“US Marshal Aislinn Cain with the Serial Crimes Tracking Unit!” I shouted at the people. “I know you are angry. I know you are scared. You have every right to be. But at this exact moment, I imagine the poisoner is standing among you.”
The crowd suddenly became deathly silent, as if they were all holding their breath. Their eyes had turned to me when I announced my name. Now, I had their undivided attention.
“Along with the poisoner is a group of sociopaths and psychopaths, which under normal conditions, would not be a bad thing. Today though, they are looking for any reason to turn your quest for answers into a brawl. So, I want everyone to look around. Look at the outrage and fear on the faces of your neighbors. Those are normal reactions. However, when you find someone who does not look pissed off or scared, those would be abnormal reactions. They are feeding off you, like emotional vampires. The first bottle they throw or punch they land is going to stop you from getting any answers. Once the violence and bloodshed has started, they will slink away to watch from a safe distance. And it will start. In order to keep Sioux Falls safe, we will need the help of the public. Despite how you feel at the moment, everyone here deserves to be safe, but you will not be once the violence starts. So when it does, I want you to take notice of those perpetuating the violence. Do not assist them in destroying your city. Assist your city by pointing them out to the men and women up here, trying to keep you safe from a mass murderer as well as those who just enjoy the act of shedding blood.” I handed the CB like microphone back to the cop. He stared at it as if it was a snake. Not everyone recognized the emptiness that is expressed on the faces of sociopaths and psychopaths. I did because I saw one every time I looked in the mirror. A man grabbed my arm, his eyes were wide, and fear was visible.
“You’re a member of the SCTU?” He asked me.
“Yes,” I answered. “Unfortunately, at this time, I know as much about our poisoner as you do, but I have every intention of figuring out who is doing it and making them pay for it.”
“What you said about the crowd, is it true?” He asked.
“There are those among you that have no interest in finding answers. They only want to watch the blood run down the streets. It is a human dynamic that explains why large, angry crowds turn into mobs. It has been that way since time began and will be that way when the world ends.”
“What should we do?”
“Go home, or at the very least, keep your head down and away from the trouble when it starts.”