King of Crime ✔️

A Better Evening

It turned out that Davidson had finally received word from the CIA about Hannig, that they would send over an agent. Though he wondered what they could provide us with, the relevance was that they were willing to lend a hand, and perhaps give intel about what Hannig had been operating on in England, although that chance wasn't great. 

The CIA had always been very stuck up on information about criminal activity in the UK, so all what we could base Hannig's profile on was his weapon trade in Germany, and the criminal trafficking he did in Singapore five years ago. It was enough to put him on the priority list of the FBI, but certainly not enough to get all forces on him. 

Until the CIA would release intelligence or Hannig would actually start terrorizing America, I probably had to do with just the CIA-agent, Matthias and myself.

After explaining my situation to me, Davidson also wanted me to report on everything about Samantha. Her demeanor, mostly, her attitude and character, whether she was motivated to get Hannig into jail or actually held some sentiment towards him. 

He listened to me talk with glistening eyes and rubbing hands. The man had always been more of a psychologist than a crime-investigator and managed to become the head-profiler of our department even though we already had an entire team. The way he handled two jobs at the time was amazing. 

As soon as Davidson was satisfied with my reports and I got my search warrant, I headed for Aram, passing Daphne in the doorway, who was too busy with the huge cardboard box she was carrying to notice me.

The rest of the day went by quickly, spending most of our time on identifying the two apartments Hannig used and sending small groups over to investigating them. What we got back was exactly as we expected, but still disappointing: he cleaned up perfectly after himself, leaving nothing of importance. 

The team did find a photograph of Samantha inside a book, a few dossiers that were completely blacked out, and lots of half-smoked joints. The photos the agents send me showed two sober rooms completely filled with books and ashtrays. 

Although the residentials themselves didn't give away much, it felt great to at least have something, and that Samantha was proving to be very useful. Matthias too, was very productive after this morning, so the day really took a turn for the better.

After Saunders finally came to me with the written reports it was around nine already, and Matthias decided it was about time we wrapped up. He probably needed to see his wife badly, because as soon as we stepped out of the building, he bolted off like lightning, racing out of the parking lot like a fucking F1 coureur, honking a goodbye to me. 

I stared after him in a daze, loosening my tie and exhaled. Stepping into my car, I saw Siamese Dream lying on the passenger's seat after I put it there this morning. I rested my chin on the wheel, pouting, staring at the two kids on the cover. 

My last girlfriend couldn't appreciate the album at all, but she was a great fuck, so that compensated. 

I kneaded my shoulder, finally starting the engine after having decided where to get dinner. Thai seemed to go with today just perfectly.

After getting food, it was only a fifteen-minute drive to my apartment, but I didn't even make it that far. My phone went off and I shook up, startled. I had been sitting in silence, in a heated debate on the inside about whether I should just play music or another interrogation. 

As I took the call and connected it to the car's audio, I opened the plastic bag of Thai.

"Special Agent Thomson."

"Hi, Samantha. I'm sorry, it's a little late, but do you have a minute?" the girl spoke, as I stared at the dashboard. Though I didn't like to admit it, I had hoped she'd call me today, just to confirm she hadn't been assassinated yet.