Zikabar ran his ID by the sensor as he entered the building. The part of him that drove him to excel at everything he did was nagging him that he should have remained at the scene to supervise. Telling himself that Johanson had everything in hand didn’t help very much. The man was from a different office, and he might mis manage his Zee’s people.
If not for his curiosity, he would still be there. Denton had mentioned a briefcase, and when he checked, one had been found in the first sweep and already brought back to be processed. Zikabar had watched his friend talk to some of the victims, a couple of lions and an Alpaca. The discussion had become animated when Zee’s attention had been forced away.
Denton had been keeping things from him, again.
He smiled to the people he crossed and he traversed the building, all the items from crime scene entered from the back, to be quickly cataloged and sent for processing. The room was large, with multiple table and teams working at each of them. Everything had to be scanned, then assigned a code. At that point and notes made about the circumstances surrounding the collection of the item was linked to it.
“Derick,” Zee tapped the shoulder of a small palomino, “Has everything from the first transported been entered in the database?”
He got a quick nod for a response. “All done. We’re on the third batch now.”
“Was there a briefcase?”
Derick nodded without consulting his phone. “Circa 1960 briefcase, locked, no apparent damage to it. Unable to unlock it.”
“Unable?”
“Old style lock, tried lock pick, no good. Tried minimal force, no good. Sent for the lab to be processed. They’ll try harsher method after they have collected any evidence on it.”
“Which if the labs has it?”
The horse checked his phone. “Particulate got it first, then print, and after that whoever will deal with opening it.”
“What’s in it?”
“No idea. Tried scanning it, must be lined with lead, or gold, will need to check.” Derick’s mild autism made him thorough, the odds of it being gold was very low, but Zee knew there would be a note for the lab to check that too. Zee had worked with him when a hunt for a embezzler had taken him to the Boston office, he’d then gone out of his way to convince him to transfer to Denver.
“Thank you.”
The labs were down the side corridor, which opened up in one large room with smaller ones, their walls glass specializing in one process, but most could handle two or three different ones, for when they was a backlog in one area. There sixteen labs in total, four across and four deep.
The technician in the process of collecting dirt from a pewter color fabric, in lab 1-1, told him they’d passed the briefcase along. The woman in the lab diagonal from it, 2-2, who was looking for fingerprints on broken glass said they’d finished with it.
This meant anyone could have it now. Anyone not busy with other work who thought they could unlock it. He looked around. He could make out the items three labs deep before the succession of glass distorted things too much, but what attracted his attention wasn’t the briefcase.
In lab 4-3, next to the back wall, his basement team was standing around a table. As Zee walked toward them, Mortis raised an eight pound sledgehammer over his head. Zee rushed to them and tapped the window to get their attention.
The pangolin looked in his direction, then down at the briefcase on the table before him. Around it were pliers, a saw, a welding torch and screwdrivers. Zee wondered what they were up to.
The petite ocelot said something he couldn’t head through the glass wall and waved for him to come in. The four of them had an animated conversation while Zee decided if it was wise to join them. It might be safer to have them come out and explain things first.
He tapped the panel next to the door, and it slid open. Zee opened his mouth to order them out, but the back wall exploded. He shock wave sent him flying through one of the labs, landing next to a table. Concrete rubble crashed around him.
He couldn’t hear anything as he stood, drawing his gun. Dust made it difficult to see much, but he could see daylight behind lab 4-2, that was where the hole was. People were moving, but he couldn’t immediately tell who was whom.
He tried to go through the broken glass wall, but almost fell down, his equilibrium was shot. Leaning against the table he scanned around. Lab techs were running in the opposite direction, that was good, most weren’t trained for these kind of situation.
Agents entered the lab area, guns drawn.
Zee caught movement out the corner of his eye. He snapped his head there, and almost collapsed. When his vision cleared he saw someone dressed in a black body suit and wearing goggles waling along the wall. Zee lined up a shot, then blinked. Where there had been one person, there were three. He blinked again, fighting the urge to shake his head. Clearly there was something wrong with his eyes.
When he looked there again the man wasn’t there anymore, but there was another one in the lab where the four had been. Zee shot him, but nothing happened. Cursing the invention of interference vests he switched to bullets.
The man was holding the briefcase when Zee aimed at him. He shot him in the shoulder, but it was the concrete that showed evidence of the impact. Zee shot twice more, each time missing him, although he was certain he;s lined his shot. He shot him once more, this time going to center of mass, but again, the bullet hit the back wall.
Zee only had one bullet left and he staggered after the man, who was running for the opening. Zee grabbed a shelf to steady himself. Another man appeared, silhouetted in the daylight. Zee aimed for him, because he was standing still, but before he could fire, Zee flew back through more glass and crashed on a table, sliding off and to the floor.
He had to have blacked out, hands were helping him stand, his ears were ringing. He tried to wave them away, but he was pulled until he was out of the room and made to sit down.
Mortis helped Jennifer to the chair next the Zee, the ocelot bleeding from multiple small cuts. Carson dragged three other chairs and they sat in them.
“What happened?” Zee asked, but barely heard his own voice.
The pangolin motioned to his ears. Like him they’d been too close to the explosion, there was no telling how long it would be before they could hear again.
Zee needed to talk to someone else, he needed to know that someone else had seen what had happened. He couldn’t trust his senses. What he remembered made no sense.
