BLACK INK SOCIETY {Sci-Fi Thriller} #Wattys2016

Part 5,2: Do Not Enter

Before the editorial office came into sight, they could hear the commotion. Police cars were parked all over the place, a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered in front of the building, yellow barrier tape fluttered in the cold breeze. CRIME SCENE. DO NOT ENTER.

Entering however was exactly what Irene intended to do. Her associates had remained silent until now, but she could easily look beyond their masks of consternation and saw that both of them were actually bursting with curiosity.

"Go ahead. Ask."

"What happened?"

Irene didn't need to answer. Perfectly on time, a middle-aged, chubby woman interrupted the conversation.

"I am so sorry!" She cried, running towards Irene and hugged her. "I know you two were close and all and I'm sure you didn't mean everything... everything you said and... and..."

The newcomer started to sob uncontrollably. Irene froze and awkwardly patted her on the back, unable to cope with the emotional outbreak. Her face was a mixture of anxiety and slight disgust, as she threw her associates a helpless glance.

Lupin understood the hint and freed Irene, carefully pulling the clingy mourner away and telling her in a gentle voice to calm down.

"I'm alright, Minty" said Irene when the person adressed had reduced her trembling sobs to a quiet sniff. "When did they find him?"

"Two hours ago." Minty sniffed again. "He was still in his office, making overtime, as always. He was alone except for the janitor. They say his head was crushed with a..." She whimpered. "With a paperweight, you know, the dog figure he used to have on his desk..."

Lupin silently handed her a tissue.

"Thank you." She blew her nose, then looked up again. "Who on earth would do such a thing?"

Irene's expression went dark. "You know exactly who would."

Minty shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Of course, Garett had his arguments with the ministry. But they wouldn't just straight up murder someone, would they...? Would they?"

"I don't know." Irene said plainly. "The only thing I know is what he would have wanted us to do now."

"And what?"

"Do you remember how we got into a discussion about the reports I stole from the security bureau in Cardiff? Remember what he called me?"

"The most inconsiderate, reckless b..."

"Exactly."

~

"Lenina Watson, Counter Terrorism Command. These are my associates, Mr. Smith and Mr. Winston. We'd like to take a closer look at the victim."

The officer sceptically examined the sloppily faked ID card Irene held under his nose. "What business does Specialist Operations have at a homicide investigation?"

Irene stared him down with a piercing glance. "The victim is suspected of collaboration with a terrorist group, Officer, or why do you think we spend our Saturday evening out in the cold? Plus; I do not think you are in any position to question our instructions."

The policeman looked at her one last time, then stepped aside with a scornful snort, mumbling something about "ministry dogs" and some other unpleasantries concerning Irenes supposed employer.

She just pushed back her glasses and walked past him, unimpressed.

"Well, that was easy." Dante remarked.

"Seems like you've gained some routine in this particular masquerade." Lupin said mockingly.

"Please" Irene replied, deadpan, "How do you think I got hold of the Bricklane Murder case files?"

"That was you?" Lupin whistled through his teeth. "Not bad. Not bad at all..."

The office was crowded with investigators, some of them in uniform, others in the aseptic blue attire of crime scene specialists. Irene rushed up the stairs, her pace fast and secure as always. Still, her accomplices couldn't help but notice something was different about her. She was a naturally striking, if not intimidating person, but never had Lupin and Dante seen a death glare as this in her eyes, so filled with grit, anger and ruthless determination.

Also, all other observations set aside, she knew her way through the hallways. And it seemed she knew it well. Irene stopped in front of a small separated office. The door was made of translucent glass, the faint letters on it almost unrecognizeable. E d i t r.

Inside, they were greeted by a number of forensic examiners, flashlights, cameras. And a probably more horrible sight than they could have been prepared for.

Blood was splattered across the floor and had percolated through the carpet, which was soaked in crimson red. And the face... the face was the worst. Lupin decided immediately that, if he was ever asked for a final wish, he would state his preference for dying with his brain still inside his head, while Dante relapsed into old habits and spoke a quick prayer on the victim's behalf.

Irenes thoughts were unreadable as she slowly walked towards the desk, opened a drawer and abstracted whatever she found hidden in it.