Inside the observation room sat Roger Malow, a man with graying hair who dressed in a suit of the highest quality. His discerning eyes stared through the room’s window into the neighboring interrogation room. The entire facility was constructed with ability users in mind; the neighboring holding cells, used to detain suspected TF users until the drug wears off, were resistant to most destructive abilities and also shielded against all known transmission-based powers. Out of an overabundance of caution, the interrogation and observation rooms were similarly hardened. A young man sat on the other side of the window, restrained to a chair by several cuffs in the brightly lit interrogation room. His hair appeared disheveled, as if someone had ruffled it without his consent.
Marco Francisco Escarrà knocked on the open door, alerting the BSC branch chief to his presence. “You called me in, sir?”
Those piercing eyes turned toward Marco, scanning him from his neat black hair and clean-shaven face down past his brand new suit to his glossy dress shoes, as if his worth as a human was measured in an instant. “You’re just in time. Have a seat, Marco. Hideki is about to start the interview.”
Marco obliged, then looked his superior. “So who is this guy?”
“Scott Bauer, age nineteen.” Roger read off the file on the desk. “Sophomore studying political science at Delsin State University, frequent participant in anti-BSC protests, observed by field agents to be in contact with a suspected undocumented power user. Under temporary detainment for questioning in regards to an ongoing investigation on illegal TF use and trafficking. Or to put it simply, he’s a Harrell witness.”
“I see,” Marco nodded. Harrell witnesses were individuals who held information of interest but couldn’t, or wouldn’t, voluntarily give up that information. Rather than force or entice them into talking, the BSC was authorized under the Harrell Code to utilize its own superpowered individuals in order to extract information from these involuntary witnesses.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and a BSC agent of Asian descent stepped in, likewise dressed in a sharp suit. “Good afternoon Mr. Bauer, and thank you in advance for your cooperation.”
“Release me!” Scott lashed out at the man. “You have no right to hold me here like this!”
“I’m sorry to hear that you are uncomfortable with your current position, Mr. Bauer, but please understand that two hour detainment and the restraints are necessary precautions when dealing with potential trufloxin users, all of which have been upheld in court.” Hideki shut the door behind him and strode up to Scott. “I just need some information from you, and you will be free to go.”
“I’m not answering anything without a lawyer,” Scott stated, asserting his Miranda rights, or more accurately his Fifth Amendment right against self incrimination.
“That is fine,” Hideki reached a hand out toward Scott’s head. Unfortunately, the Fifth wouldn’t be of any help in Scott’s situation. “I won’t ask you to speak.”
“What!? You…” Scott’s eyes went wide. He leaned back as far as he could, trying to avoid the approaching hand. “You’re a telepath!”
“Correct.” Hideki pressed his palm against Scott’s forehead. Like most telepaths, he could read another person’s thoughts and memories when in physical contact with a target, making them indispensable for intelligence collection.
“You can’t do this!” Scott thrashed about, tugging against the restraints as he failed to shake off Hideki’s hand. “You assholes! What happened to my rights!? This is illegal! This is why the BSC should be dissolved!”
From the observation room, Roger snorted, trying to suppress his laughter. “I remember when I was that naive. Thought I knew how the world worked just because I learned a few things in school, but you’d think a poli-sci student at Delsin State would at least know the Harrell rules.”
Marco clenched his fist and turned away from the window. The Harrell rules defined when and where the BSC and other law enforcement agencies could use telepath-acquired knowledge as a basis for investigation or evidence. While Roger was correct that this particular approach was legal, that didn’t mean it sat well with Marco. Being forced to watch only heightened his discomfort. “So, why am I here? Sir?”
“Ah, yes. I need you to look into something.” Roger motioned to a table beside them and the backpack on top of it. “For efficiency’s sake, I had these brought in from the evidence locker. I need you to tell me who our witness was talking to. Naturally, you’ll be needing this.”
Roger held out a small glass vial in an open hand. Marco picked it up and inspected its contents. Written on its side were the words ‘Cypress Pharmaceuticals’ and ‘Trufloxin 100 mg’, while beneath its cap was a small, single-use syringe filled with a golden fluid. Trufloxin, the miracle drug.
First week on the job and I’m already shooting myself up. Papa’s going to be so proud… Marco took off his jacket and sat down in a folding chair. As he unbuttoned his shirt’s cuff, he realized, “If we already have a telepath, do you really need me? I mean, this stuff’s expensive, right?”
“What you see is different from what he does,” Roger shrugged. “Besides, the evidence we collect from telepathy can only constitute probable cause, and the rules say we can’t use Harrell testimony against the witness. Your psychometry, on the other hand, can enter the courthouse as expert testimony.”
Wouldn’t either be enough for probable cause? There’s no way we have enough on the guy for prosecution. Rather than retort, Marco nodded and checked the clock on the wall. 2:34, it said. “What time was the subject’s meeting?”
“This morning from 11:30 to noon,” Roger replied. “We know they met earlier, as our observers saw them arrive together.”
Alright, two and a half hours ago. Marco calculated the midpoint of the meeting. Then, he rolled up his sleeve and cleaned the inside of his elbow with the included disinfectant wipe. After a pause, he uncapped the syringe, exhaled, and jabbed it into the vein. The momentary pain soon gave way to a sense of euphoria, as the drug coursed through his blood and into his brain.
Marco put his hand on the backpack and stared at its detail. His vision focused on the bag’s fabric and stitching and the observation room table behind faded out, replaced by a hazy picture which grew clearer and clearer as the drug’s effect peaked.
The boy in their interrogation room, Scott Bauer, faced another man with chocolate hair and dressed in a formal suit. The two sat in a gazebo in what appeared to be a park, discussing Scott’s prior activities. Scott, mistaking the man’s identity, offered to clean up the recently defaced BSC branch.
So that’s why the entrance square was covered in paint. Marco thought. Evidence for vandalism.
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The man introduced himself as Jeff Casey, then proceeded in an attempt to incite violence against the BSC. Casey even went so far as to say he had a trufloxin source which matched the government grade product Marco just used. Scott appeared hesitant, and the meeting ended as Casey walked away, giving Scott an opportunity to consider the offer.
Having ascertained the information his superior asked for, Marco dropped his focus, and the image faded out, returning Marco to the station’s observation room. As he blinked to regain his bearings, Roger asked, “Well? What did you get?”
“Jeff Casey,” Marco said, recalling the details of his vision. “Caucasian with dark brown hair, and green eyes. I’d estimate six foot one and 180 pounds. He claimed to have TF. Government grade, in his words.”
“Was he wearing glasses, by any chance?”
“Glasses? No.” Marco looked to his boss. “Why do you ask?”
Roger smiled for the first time. “We’ve been staking out that park for a week, with long range cameras to boot. Bauer’s meeting occurred in full view of those cameras, but the contact’s face and body all appeared as a bright spot in the data. The analyst suspected the contact used high quality anti-facial recognition glasses, but Gary and Stewart didn’t see him wearing any. So it’s definitely TF causing this interference. Best guess right now is that this suspect’s ability interferes with digital records of himself.”
Marco nodded. Undoubtedly, ‘Jeff Casey’ was a false identity, as the man had no qualms introducing himself, or revealing his face to a complete stranger such as Scott Bauer. If his ability made him impervious to standard surveillance techniques, then it’d explain how he could recruit so openly.
“Now, take a look at this,” Roger said, handing Marco a clear plastic bag containing a vial of golden liquid. Marco took a deep breath and stared at the vial, but before the room left his focus, Roger interrupted him. “With your eyes, not your powers. It’s been in storage for days already.”
“Oh.” Marco’s powers didn’t work beyond a day. He looked at the vial more closely. “Well if it’s just that, I’d recognize the color anywhere. It looks like someone poured a TF shot into a vial. Why did they do that though?”
“I wish it were that simple.” Roger shook his head. “Rumors about a ‘Tru-Gold’ formulation reached our ears about a month ago. We were almost ready to dismiss it as unfounded before that vial landed in our lap. That is the sample Stewart pulled off a South Cascadia student last week.”
The hell!? Marco nearly dropped the container. “This came off the streets? You mean to tell me this Jeff Casey guy’s lifting TF somewhere between Cypress and the DPA?”
“We eliminated that possibility already.” Roger pulled a report out of a folder on the desk and handed it to Marco. “Our forensics team found its formulation doesn’t match the Cypress product. Nor does it match any known government or cartel sourced TF our agency has acquired. Also, it’s only appeared around Delsin so far. No other branch has reported anything like it.”
Holy fuck, Marco thought as he flipped through the report’s pages before stopping at the final table, which compared known TF formulations. While trufloxin itself was chemically identical regardless of preparation, the other components and trace substances in a sample offered hints to the drug’s manufacturing source, methods, and distribution. The sample’s test results matched none of their previous database values. “It’s gotta be a new cartel product. We’re just the first to see it. There’s no way someone could cook this stuff at home.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Marco. We don’t know yet.” Roger shrugged. “With Delsin State and South Cascadia both having world-class pharma programs, the volume of homemade TF our branch sees is far above the national average. It wouldn’t surprise me if a student is brewing it in their kitchen.”
“Isn’t this huge?” Marco asked. The impact of high quality trufloxin being widespread was too horrendous to imagine. Yet he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t heard a word on the topic despite his short time since joining the BSC. “Why isn’t anyone talking about this in the office? Who’s investigating this?”
“You are,” Roger chuckled. “Your first formal investigation is to track down the distributor of ‘Tru-Gold’ in Delsin and find out where their supplies are coming from.”
“I’m honored, but isn’t this too important a job for a new agent like me?” Marco was taken aback. With such a high quality drug, he assumed the task would fall on a BSC veteran with several other agents in tow. Again, Marco paused in his thoughts. “Who am I working with?”
“You’ll have a partner, Antonio Barbaso, who’s returning from HQ two days from now. We don’t have any actionable material, so the director would kill me if I put any more investigators on this job. Until Tony returns, I’m granting you access any branch resource you need, plus any personnel hours you can convince the others to give you.” Roger handed him the manila folder with twenty-some pages still in it. “It’s sparse for how important the case is, but this is everything we have right now. I hate to admit it, but Bauer’s Harrell testimony and this so-called Jeff Casey are the best leads you’ve got right now.”
Marco thanked the branch chief and returned to his desk to look over the files. As stated, they could hardly be considered leads. Besides the substance analysis on the confiscated TF samples, there was the initially reported rumor - statements from an ‘Informant 19697’ under ‘Handler: Barbaso, Antonio’ regarding an unknown source of high quality trufloxin leaving local dealers worried for their profits.
The remaining files were statements from the user who had been caught, with only vague information on their supplier. Marco accessed the BSC database on known TF dealers and traffickers, but the student’s descriptions gave no clear hits to be useful. Likewise, the name they provided did not match any known identities or aliases of TF users and dealers in the country. He tried including the NCIC database in his queries, only to be inundated with useless or irrelevant results which didn’t match the descriptions nor the man he saw through his psychometry.
Before Marco realized it, the clock on his screen read ‘5:49’, and half the desks in the office were already empty. With a sigh, he logged off his computer session and pocketed his two phones and his wallet. As he stepped out the door, down the front steps still half painted in red, Marco’s personal phone began to vibrate. He checked its display, which announced the caller as ‘Mama’.
“¿Dígame?” Marco answered the call.
“Hola, Marco. ¿Qué tal tu día?” his mother asked. “You’re done with work, right?”
“Yes, I just stepped out of the office,” Marco replied as he turned down Pacific Avenue, the street filled with commuters heading home with the workday’s end. He drifted with the masses as the crowd moved toward the station. “And my day went quite well. In fact, the chief put me in charge of an investigation earlier this afternoon. There’s a lot of work to do, and I think it might become something really big.”
“¡Dios mío! That’s amazing! Your Papa wasn’t named an investigator until he was a two year veteran at the DEA.”
“Oh…” Marco stopped outside the Skyway station’s stairs and looked up toward the western sky before he stepped onto the escalator. “How is he doing?”
“He’s still bothered with all this new drug business, but you know he’s proud of you,” she replied. “I know you’ll be busy, but you should visit home sometime.”
“Yeah, it might be a few weeks, but I’ll let you know once I can.” Marco pressed his wallet against the turnstile’s reader and stepped onto the station platform right as his desired train approached. “I have to hang up now, so I’ll call you back later. Te amo, adiós.”
As he squeezed onto the train, Marco's thoughts returned to the investigation. The best leads provided him on potential dealers turned out to be either too vague or dead ends. While he suspected there may be more to the rumors than what the Delsin BSC branch had acquired, he needed help from his new partner to pursue those. So, identifying the distributors would have to wait until he established connections with the appropriate people.
What about the drug? Marco wondered. Since the trace components in the sample could reveal its methods of synthesis, they presented an alternative approach toward the investigation. However, he needed an expert able to explain any potential preparation methods to him and their reagents. Thanks to Delsin’s two world class pharmacy schools and the presence of Cypress Pharmaceuticals, such experts happened to be nearby and abundant. In fact, trufloxin itself was first discovered at Delsin State.
With passengers jostling around him, Marco looked up the website of Delsin State’s College of Pharmacy. In its directory, he found the public contact information of Dr. Andrea Mitchell, a distinguished professor and one of the two scientists credited for trufloxin’s discovery. The directory also listed her office location in the Drug Discovery Institute at DSU’s south medical campus. Maybe I’ll drop by tomorrow.