Killer Genius 2: Attack of the Gym Rats

Much like Lieutenant Harry Hopper, who ran the 88^th, precinct before her, acting Lieutenant Theresa Lopez was an old-school, no nonsense kind of cop. She could have ended up at least an Assistant Chief, if not for a propensity to ignore the wishes of the ‘Boy’s Club’ and do the right thing, particularly when it came to young black and brown men being railroaded for minor drug offenses. Unlike Hopper she was a Dominican-American in her late 40s that grew up in Manhattan’s Washington Heights area, only to recently transfer to Brooklyn. She didn’t know any of her new team members personally, and therefore had no emotional or sentimental connection to Smitty or Max.

“This young lady, who didn’t call 911 until hours after she thought she heard two people getting murdered now wants around the clock protection? Meanwhile we have no bodies, no video and no eyewitness accounts of what could have been no more than an episode of steroid rage. Am I missing anything?”

“The obvious tampering as far as the two suspects’ immigration status goes,” Pedro answered. Smitty had asked Pedro to join Max and her for their meeting with Lopez after he’d gotten back from Beastmode gym.

“Well, I am very sorry, but this is not enough for me to approve 24-hour coverage. I suggest if you’re done with the witness, give her a lift home and call it a day.”

“And if something happens to this girl?” Smitty pressed.

“What do you want me to say, detective?” Lopez asked, clearly unhappy that her decision was being questioned. “Our mayor’s decision to make us a ‘sanctuary city’ has the entire NYPD strapped budget wise. It’s likely to stay that way until a certain fascist is voted out of office.”

“Can’t we just station a unit in the area?” Max didn’t sound like his heart was in the fight, but for Smitty’s sake he suggested what he thought was a reasonable compromise.

Lopez and Max locked eyes. He swallowed hard, suddenly very concerned about what she might be thinking. “Fine, one squad car in front of the building. Arrange it with the desk sergeant. Anything else?”

The threesome took turns glancing at one another before giving a collective “No”.

“Great. You know, I’m starting to see why the other officers call you guys ‘The Misfit Toys’.”

“They call us that?” Pedro was genuinely bewildered.

“Not to our faces,” Max answered. There was a measure of pride in his voice.

They silently exited the office. “Way to stand up for yourself in there!” Smitty finally said. Pedro was relieved to see she was talking to Max.

“What? I came up with the compromise. I barely believe her, myself.”

“You mean to tell me after everything Pedro dug up you don’t think there’s something fishy about those two Russians?”

Pedro’s cellphone vibrated. He pulled it out of his lab coat pocket and seemed to be reading a puzzling message.

“Fishy, sure!” Max admitted. “But when this turns out to be some beef over whose turn it was to stack barbells or some other nonsense, we are both going to look like jackasses.”

“Guys, before you keep arguing, there is actually something I would like to show you both.”

Pedro sighed. “Remember how none of the security cameras in the gym worked? Well, I did some checking and traffic cameras for at least a ten-mile radius were also down.”

“Traffic cameras?”

“Yes. But they all seemed to self-repair from the hours of 3am to just after the fight in the gym. So, I emailed the guys who monitor the traffic cameras and asked them if they noticed any major malfunctions in their network last night. The file they sent over is too big for my phone.”

“I figured nothing was too big for your phone, Latino Batman,” Max joked.

“I’ve got budget issues like everyone else,” Pedro admitted.

Smitty was anxious to hurry this along. “So, we have to go to your office?”

Pedro smiled and nodded.

“To Nerd Central we go!” Max smiled.

“You’re just jealous of my copy of ‘Werewolf By Night’ number 35,” Pedro sneered.

“Guilty as charged,” Max said as they followed Pedro to the elevators.

It took a little more than five minutes for everything Pedro’s friends had emailed to be downloaded. All the while, Max alternated from watching Pedro to staring enviously at Pedro’s collection of action figures and comic book memorabilia. Smitty, on the other hand, watched Max and tapped her feet.

Max eventually noticed the tapping. “What’s the matter with you?”

“You and I have to watch that girl until those Russians are caught. You know that, right?”

“C’mon, Smitty! Be serious! I got a baby at home. Wife’s an anchorwoman who didn’t ask to be a mother. I can’t just…”

“Guys, there were a lot of traffic cameras doing the ‘self-repair’ thing last night. And there were trails.”

“It’s like this; minor stuff happens all day and night. But I do see a pattern as far as last night goes.”

Max and Smitty leaned in on either side of Pedro and looked at a map of Brooklyn with very distinct black lines running through the downtown area and beyond.

“This self-repairing phenomenon starts with a stretch on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. Cameras blackout, then self-repair after a few minutes all the way from Exit 57 in the Dumbo section all the way to Exit 8 and into East Williamsburg, or Bushwick depending on whether you’re a real estate agent showing a white couple an apartment, or a native Brooklynite.” Pedro turned from the computer screen and looked to see if the two agitated detectives were tracking his explanation. They nodded.

“This must be some sort of camera blocking technology,” Smitty theorized. “Something they’re driving around with?”

“Maybe. But then after all the shenanigans on the BQE, we have a two-hour block of time where the camera malfunction just sits.” Pedro presses a few buttons on his keyboard as a time-lapse is illustrated.

“What’re the cross streets at the center of this two-hour long camera malfunction?” Max asked.

Pedro tapped on the keyboard, which enlarged the map. “Johnson and Graham Avenues.”

“And after two hours, does the trail of malfunctioning traffic cameras lead back to Beastmode Fitness?” Max leaned in until his chin was nearly touching Pedro’s shoulder.

Using the mouse, Pedro dragged the map and enlarged again. “Yes indeed, the center of a second widespread camera malfunction is about a block away from Beastmode. It moves closer to Beastmode after another two hours and then back to Dumbo. No more large area shut offs after that.”

Smitty knew Max well enough to know that his asking more than three questions usually meant he was on the verge of something. “You have it, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he glanced at her and beamed. They had been partners for over a decade now, and he still couldn’t help but feel flattered by her trust and respect. “Pedro, is there a way to crosscheck these traffic cam reports? Let’s say I wanted to know if something like this happened a month ago.”

“Well, I have to get in their database for that. Luckily, I think this guy that works in traffic is sweet on me, because after our brief conversation he gave me access to their whole system. I will throw a net over that whole time period and see what comes up. Hold on.”

While Pedro typed furiously, Smitty and Max shared a look of confusion. After a moment, Smitty couldn’t help herself. “Pedro, forgive me for being nosy, but are you gay?”

Pedro didn’t so much as blink. “Not even a little bit. But sometimes you have to use what you got to get what you want.”

Max pressed his lips tight together to keep from laughing.

Pedro muttered in a singsong tone while he searched. “This first incident happened May nineteenth going into the twentieth. Let’s see, we are looking at April, April, April. The twelfth, nothing. The thirteenth, kids vandalized a camera in Times Square, has since been repaired. Fourteenth is normal. Holy Shit!”

“Here it is again. Only this time, the two-hour stop is centered in the west side of 54^th street in Manhattan. But the pattern is very similar.”

“Pedro, can you access ‘missing persons’?”

“Of course,” Pedro opened a separate browser window and did as he was requested.

Max broke from the group and began to pace across the floor. “Yesterday’s and this morning’s missing person’s reports wouldn’t be in the database yet, but if someone went missing in April…”

“You mean like Chad Grossman and Beverly Cork? Grossman reported missing by a roommate. Cork reported missing by her mother. Both last seen at a nightclub, Chimera, on 54^th and 10^th.”

“They hit a pick-up spot, pick up one guy and one girl, come back to Brooklyn, do the deed, dump the bodies and chill for a month,” Smitty said.

“Exactly,” Max turned to her. “I think I’m ready to believe your little friend. I’m still not guarding her tonight, though.”

“Yes, you are. You know why?”

“Because if something bad happens to my fat ass, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Fuck!”

“You guys going to tell Lopez you’re staying with the girl?” Unbeknownst to Smitty and Max, Pedro had plans that evening and secretly wanted to know if he should expect to be interrupted.

“This might be one of those ‘beg for forgiveness later rather than ask for permission’ scenarios.”

“I will disavow any knowledge of your actions!”

Smitty smiled. “Thanks, Pedro! We couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Yes, I know. And I’m sure that will be reflected in your report. Now go shoot some Russians, or something. You’re not the only clueless detectives I have to save before I can get out of here.”

Max smiled at him. “I hear ya. But before we go, you have to tell me something. Where did you get that copy of Werewolf By Night?”

“I seduced a lonely divorcee whose ex-husband was apparently a nerd like us.” Pedro seemed happy to tell the story. “Naturally, she had no idea what she let me have.”

“Unbelievable,” Max shook his head as he and Smitty started towards the door.

“Hey guys, one last thing,” Pedro called out suddenly, stopping them. “Look, I know you guys can handle yourselves, but if this camera blocking tech is any indication of who you’re dealing with, you might want to reconsider not telling Lopez where you’re going to be tonight.”

“You’re thinking Russian mob?” Smitty asked.

“I’m thinking I don’t want my two favorite detectives getting hurt or worse and then I don’t have footage to help catch the perps.”

There was an awkward silence that Max finally broke. “We’ll be okay, Pedro. I promise.”

“You better be.” Pedro sounded just a bit sad as he turned back to his computer.

Smitty didn’t say anything until they were back in the elevator. “I’m guessing you’re going to stop arguing with me about the girl’s story?”