Friday, September 1, 2006

Yes, I did something
(Took me most of yesterday. More to come.)

A cool blue light greeted Joan as she awoke in the small hotel room. She rubbed her eyes to clear away the blur of sleep, "What time is it?" She asked no one in particular as she stiffly sat up. She looked at the night stand by the bed, 6:08. I hate jet lag. She sighed as she fell back down on the pillow and closed her eyes.

God, so noisy. Joan woke up again, this time greeted by an annoying ring tone. Quite useful when in a large group, but totally annoying when alone. She raggedly felt around the night stand, not there. Now where did I put it? She slowly got out of bed, the ringing louder than before. Not in the coat; not in the pants; not in the bag. Where the hell did I put it? The ringing stopped, well there goes my beacon. She turned on the lamp by the bed, "Ugh," She grunted, squinting at the bright light. Third times the charm. She turned to look at the rest of her room. Maybe not. As organized as she usually was at home, she had just amazed herself at how much of a slob she could be. Everything that was in her bag was somewhere on the floor and in the sea of clothes and papers was her phone.

The phone by her bed started to ring, "God! What is wrong with me sleeping?" She screeched as she threw down a different pair of pants. She picked up the phone, "Yeah, what?"
"Sorry to call you on this phone," A man's voice answered, "But I tried the cell your supervisor gave me and no one answered."
"Really, I didn't know." She said with a sassy tone, "How could I miss one of the most annoying ring tone ever created."
"Not a morning person I see." The man laughed.
"Not when woke up by that tone."
"I take it you don't know where you put it last."
"That would be a yes." Joan checked behind the stand, "Never mind, I found it." She reached down and grabbed her cell.
"Good." She could hear the shuffle of papers, "I called because I need you to come in earlier than originally planned. Something came up last night and we would like you to get a good look at it before starting the main investigation."
"Is it related?" She sat down on the bed and picked up the nearest pair of pants.
"That's what we want you to figure out."
"Yeah, I'll be there in, oh come on!"
"Is something wrong?"
"Yeah, my zipper." She started to take the pants off, "It just broke."
"I see."
She grabbed a different pair, "Anyway, I'll be there in about ten or so."
"Thanks, see you when you get here."
"Yeah, bye." She hung up the phone and sighed, "Why me?" She zipped the pants as she stood.

Sluggishly, Joan managed to finish getting dressed and on her way to the agency headquarters. She stopped at a Starbucks to get her caffeine fix for the day, double white chocolate mocha latte. When she finally found the street the building was on, the place took her by surprise. It looked just like a loft style complex. There was a parking garage across from it that was for most of the businesses on the street.

Her car door echoed in the empty garage. No one else is here, so why do I have to be? She checked her pockets to make sure she still had everything, yep all there. It was a bit strange for the garage to be free. There wasn't even a booth. Joan looked around at the street as she left the garage; talk about blending in. She crossed and went into complex. Even the inside reminded her of a loft. She pulled a piece of paper from her coat pocket, second floor. She opened the gate to the lift and stepped in.

The lift rattled as it went up the one floor; is this place really headquarters? The gate opened and Joan stepped out into a small lobby type room; a woman sat at a single desk by a door. There was no sign of any business, just light blue walls and a few picture of scenery. The woman looked up from her computer terminal, "Yes?"
Joan scratched her head, "Yeah, um, I was told to come here. I'm from the New York branch."
"Miss Erikson?" The woman asked with a fairly blank face.
Joan nodded, "Yes."
The woman motioned to the door with her head, "Go on in."
"Okay?" Joan walked her confused self over to the door and opened it.

Inside the room were about ten people moving from desk to desk working hard at something. The lay out of the room looked like the offices back home. Mostly open, two separate rooms; one for the supervisor and the other for meetings. A young looking man hurriedly walked past Joan carrying a stack of papers. No one seemed to notice she was there. She shrugged and started to make her way through the office to the supervisor's room. "He's not here." Someone said from behind. Joan turned around, the girl smiled, "He went to get something to eat. He'll be back in a few."
"Great." Joan rubbed her forehead, "First he wakes me up by calling my cell. Then he calls my room phone and asks me to come in earlier. Now he isn't even here."
The girl giggled, "Yeah, he's like that. You Joan?"
"Yeah."
"Good, follow me." Joan shook her head and complied. The girl looked to be around seventeen, short hazel hair, brown eyes, slim but well toned. She was fairly casual with her attire, jeans and a black long sleeve shirt that read, "The voices tell me I have a problem, but I think they are lying" on the back. "Name's Emily." She said as she leaned against the door Joan had first come through.
Joan forced a smile, "Nice to meet you."
Emily opened the door and turned back around, "Want some coffee? You look like hell."
"Already had my fix."
Emily opened the gate to the lift, "You can never have too much coffee." The two stepped on, "We're going to the lab." She said as she pushed the button for the basement.
"So this whole building is HQ?" Joan asked as the lift started to descend.
"It's cheaper rent than a normal office building. Also, some of us live here on the fifth and sixth floor."
"Ah."
"Nice part is that it is all paid for by the agency."
"I'd imagine."
Emily studied Joan for a second, "You know you don't have to dress so formal."
"The New York branch is different."
"That's usually the case." The lift stopped and Emily opened the gate. Again there was a small lobby manned by a single person. The man looked up from his computer, "Morning Emily."
She smiled and waved as the two walked by, "Good morning, Kyle." She opened the door for Joan, "Head on in."

The place looked like a cross between an emergency room and a research facility. In one corner of the room was a small medical set up, monitors and all. The rest of the space was taken up by computers, fume hoods, micro scopes, incubators, etc. There were two other people working around an autopsy table. Emily pointed to it, "Over there is what we wanted you to look at."
Joan sighed and went over to the table; on it lay what looked like a young child's arm. One of the two women pulled down her mask, "You must be the one from the NY branch." Joan nodded, "Name's Ashley."
The younger one, maybe fifteen, didn't look up from the arm she was examining, "Henrietta."
"Nice to meet you." Joan said as she grabbed a pair of gloves, "Where did you find this?"
"A couple blocks east from here. It was in the middle of the sidewalk." Ashley answered, cracking her neck, "We just sent a sample to our other lab for DNA."
"May I?" Joan asked Henrietta, she nodded. Joan picked up the arm and slowly turned it in the light, "It's quite the clean cut."
"I know." Henrietta grabbed a piece of gauze and dabbed at the severed end, "No blood either."
Joan looked closer at the arm, "But it hasn't lost its color."
"My thought is, it never had any to begin with."
"If there was no blood, then..."
Ashley took the arm from Joan and walked over to a desk near by, "Take a look." She put the arm under a magnifying glass, "Do you see it?"
Joan squinted, there was something written on the inner part of the forearm, "It looks like a serial number."
"That's why you were called." Emily said, peeking over Joan's shoulder.
Joan recoiled in surprise, "Don't do that."
The other three started to laugh.
"What?" Joan asked a bit annoyed.
"It was just the look on your face." Henrietta said as she caught the arm that Ashley tossed.
"Are you sure this place is HQ?"
"Most definitely." Emily answered as she sat down in a chair by the desk, "It's just the fact that every office environment depends on the supervisor."
"Anyway," Joan went back to the autopsy table, "What do we know?"

Henrietta handed Joan a clipboard with a few pieces of paper, "Not much yet. Arm was found around 0215 hrs by an off duty security guard taking a stroll. Local police set up the sight and originally bagged it. We caught word of it around 0430 hrs when one of our guys made his usual round at the station. He transferred the case to the agency and asked the police to report any more things that could be related." She drummed on the arm for a second before continuing, "Us here started the examination about a half an hour ago. We just found the serial number."
"Do you know what severed it?" Joan asked as she poked at the muscle tissue.
"I think it was never attached to anyone, but Ashley thinks different."
Ashley looked over at the two, stopping the conversation she was having with Emily, "I just think that, for it to have a serial number, it should belong to some one."
"But if it did, there would be traces of blood."
"I wasn't saying it was a part of someone; just that it belonged to some one."
"That isn't what you originally said."
Ashley walked back to the table, "Here, look." She picked up the arm and held it so the light would shine on the bone, "The way the bone was cut would suggest that it would fit into a slot of sorts." She was right, the bone was slightly rounded and a small amount of muscle was carved away from around it.
Joan rubbed her temples, "I just don't see what this has to do with the NY branch."
Emily leaned back in her chair, "They didn't tell you about the case they had a few months ago?"
Joan shook her head, "I'm actually new, I started last month."

Henrietta took off her mask and leaned against the table, "Strange." She pushed off and walked over to a filing cabinet in the back of the room. She opened the top drawer and started to thumb through the files, "But it shouldn't surprise me I guess." She pulled out a green file, "I have a few connections in your branch. One of them dug this up for me." She handed it to Joan, "It's an in depth report on something the NY branch is looking at."
Joan opened it, there were a lot of memorandums, "Why wasn't I told about this before?"
"You're new." Ashley pulled a loose piece of paper from the file, "They still don't trust you to keep secrets."
"The only reason we know is because of Henrietta." Emily added.
"But," Joan started to read another page, "If this stuff is true, this arm could be theirs."
"The final things I could draw from them is, the NY branch has no working model. Just simulations." Henrietta ran her fingers lightly along the arm, "But to use children, I don't think they are that morally inept."
"You give them too much credit." Joan turned to see who was speaking, "Sorry I ran out, I was hungry."
"I take it you are the one who called." Joan assessed.
The man bowed, "You can call me Kain."
"You really think the people of my branch are fairly demoralized?"
"I'm just saying you can never fully trust your coworker to do what is right when pride is on the line." Kain pulled a manila folder from his jacket, "Here's where I want you to start." He handed it to Joan, "That traces at least ten other cases of random limbs being found in various countries in Europe."
"So they are German." Everyone looked at Henrietta, "Hey, I know all of you were thinking it."
"Well," Emily bit her lip, "I was thinking more the Russians."
"Not enough cash flow." Ashley informed.
"Ah, I see."
"What does this have to do with us?" Joan asked, a bit confused.
"What it means," Kain tossed his jacket over a chair, "is, we are dealing with a large government run organization that is looking to gain a market here in the states."

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