by Captain Sammitch
2030 hours
Fourth Precinct:
Gant barged in the front door, Patterson close behind. "We got a problem," Gant said to the NYPD detectives gathered in the lobby.
"Smith's apartment is empty," Patterson explained. "With the last kidnapped girl found, he's got no reason to stay in town."
Gant headed for a phone. "We gotta lock down all the airports."
A sergeant stopped him. "You sure that's a good idea? That's gonna jam up air traffic all the way from Boston to Washington!"
"If the FBI is after this guy," Gant countered, "then we gotta make sure he can't skip town."
"Wait for Agent Fisher's orders," the sergeant insisted.
"What is wrong with all of you?" Gant shouted. "Fisher's gonna run this investigation into the ground!" He looked around. "Where the hell is he?"
"He just left about ten minutes ago," a detective said. "Said something about following up a lead."
"You gotta call him," Patterson said. "This is huge."
The detective got out his radio. He tried several times. "He's not answering."
"Keep trying!" Gant ordered.
The detective sighed. "His radio's off."
Gant threw up his arms and headed back out the door. Patterson followed. "Where are you going?" the ballistics expert demanded.
"To find Fisher," Gant replied. "Wherever he is."
"How do you plan on finding the head of an FBI special unit?" Patterson asked.
"We'll improvise," Gant said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's taking a walk through Central Park right now."
2053 hours
Central Park
Phil parked the Explorer behind a maintenance garage. He killed the engine and looked at himself in the rearview.
What was he doing?
He had loaded up the Explorer with his and Gabi's luggage, and he had brought all his weapons along with him. He wasn't sure why. Phil just always liked to keep his options open.
Just in case.
Phil got out of the Explorer and locked it up carefully. He was wearing his customary khaki pants, dark turtleneck, and leather jacket, and he carried the .44 in a shoulder holster. The pockets of his leather jacket concealed whatever else he was carrying. He sighed and studied his reflection in the mirror. Phil was about to sign his life over to someone who he was convinced was out to get him, and that would weigh heavily on anyone's conscience. After a long moment, Phil took a deep breath, turned, and headed off toward the children's sculpture garden.
blocks away
"That's it!" Gant shouted. Patterson slammed on the brakes and the unmarked NYPD cruiser came to a halt. "That's Fisher's car!"
"Central Park," Patterson said incredulously. "What the hell is he doing in Central Park?"
"Having another meeting," Gant said. "A meeting he definitely doesn't want us interrupting." He pointed to a service road leading into the park. "Kill the lights. This place has got to be lousy with FBI goons."
Patterson nodded and shut off the headlights as he drove quietly into the park. "Hope we find either Fisher or Smith before it's too late."
"If we find one," Gant said, "I'm pretty sure we'll find both of them." His fingers found the grip of his service revolver absently. "I just hope we'll know what to do when they show up."
2057 hours
the sculpture garden
"He's coming, don't worry."
Agent Fisher rolled his eyes as Annunziata continued to voice his concerns on the other end of the line. "I know that Gant suspects something," Fisher insisted. "But he's looking all over this town for me and trying to keep Smith in town at the same time." He paused. "What?"
The man Fisher knew only as Annunziata sighed. "You must secure the location anyway." He puffed on his cigar and blew smoke across the dark room. The only source of light was a single small window behind Annunziata's back, and even then the light came through a translucent shade that kept the man's office private. "You cannot take chances with the NYPD detectives, they will go against you if you impede their investigation."
"But the location is secure," Fisher argued. "I've got twenty of my guys out here, all armed."
"Make it forty," Annunziata ordered.
Fisher sighed. "All right." He looked down. "For someone who hates my government, you sure can be pushy when it comes to allocating my resources."
"Don't forget, Fisher," Annunziata countered, "we made you. You'd still be stuck on the HRT getting shot at for a living if we hadn't capitalized on Chicago, and now this. It was my influence and the influence of my people that got you to where you are, and you are using my scientists to make this special unit a reality. But I'm not angry," the man insisted. "After all, we both want the same thing. The metahumans will upset the balance of power if we fail to act quickly to stop their spread throughout the world."
"I seriously doubt," Fisher said, "that even Phil Smith would be able to upset the balance you and your people have spent the last six decades establishing."
"You're missing the point," Annunziata's deep, raspy voice went on. "The metahumans are a contamination of the human gene pool. They are a mistake of evolution and will continue to be a blight upon the world order as long as their power goes unchecked. Your work towards the registration of the world's metahumans will greatly aid our plans for...removing them from the equation." Fisher could almost hear the man's wicked grin on the other end.
"You make a wonderful fascist, Annunziata," Fisher said. "I'll keep doing my job, and we'll see about your plans later."
"You're almost as bad as Smith," Annunziata mocked. "Do you think we are equals? Your entire FBI would not be able to combat the resources I control! I am as far above you as you fancy yourself to be above Smith." Annunziata's voice grew more serious, if that were even possible. "You do what you are told and acquire Smith for the MAW. It's possible there might be something in this for you when everything is concluded."
The line went dead.
Fisher turned off his cell phone. He hadn't noticed until now that his hands were shaking.
Wherever he was, Phil Smith had better turn up soon, or both he and Fisher would be in trouble.
"Any sign of him?" Fisher asked a lookout.
The man shook his head. "Not yet, sir. We'll let you know as soon as-" he paused and listened to the chatter on his radio. "They've spotted him," he said.
"And?"
"He's headed this way, sir. Should be here right on time."