Out of the Black - Lee Doty [42]
"Did you record the conversation?" Bad Cop asked.
Ping shook his head. "Sorry. We were in his living room so I couldn't legally record him without permission. Plus I thought he'd be more forthcoming if he didn't feel like every word was being recorded to be used against him later."
Good Cop had his stylus resting on his chin. He was clearly thinking about Ping's request. After a pause, he began. "Detective, I need to remind you that even this limited information I'm giving you is confidential and highly sensitive."
"No you don't. I get it."
Garvey nodded, but Bad Cop looked nervous. He seemed to be restraining himself from restraining Good Cop. Serious stuff, apparently. Ping tried not to look too expectant.
"Several years ago, we became aware of a quiet movement in the country, actually around the world. They have vast resources, but keep such a low profile that they went undetected until then. They seem to operate like some more refined form of organized crime. Not as crass or overtly violent, but here and there a body will turn up, or more often, someone will just disappear." He paused, considering how to continue.
"What is their goal?" Ping asked.
"I can't comment on that." Good Cop looked apologetic. Ping wasn't sure the Feds even knew.
"This case is important because it's the most open of the murders. Certainly the most spectacular."
"Were any of the other cases... strange? Like this one?"
"I'm afraid I can't comment more than I already have on that."
Ping was silent for perhaps another thirty seconds, but no further information was forthcoming. "So, I'm looking for any connections or contacts Ahmed might have mentioned?"
They looked interested. Garvey's stylus was again at the ready.
"Sorry, he didn't mention anyone else. One thing that might be interesting to you though is that Ahmed won both the Hawking prize and Rumbaugh Semaphore before he graduated college. He's a prodigy with computers but he gave it up- or so he says- to be a history TA for Lutine."
"I don't suppose he told you why." Bad cop asked, but his smirk said that he already knew.
Ping shook his head. "Yeah, gave me the slacker life-is-not-work line, but it didn't pass my smell test."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, he was scared when he heard that his professor had been killed. I think he knew about your conspiracy because he was sure he would be next."
Everyone looked shocked, but it was the Captain who spoke. "And where is he now?" he asked like a parent of a toddler might have asked "And whose poo is that?" After a rhetoric pause, Hafiz continued, "Why didn't you bring him in, or at least call for someone to watch his house?"
Ping was puzzled. Yeah! Why not? His finger was beginning to chafe from the furiously spinning key ring.
"Well, I'm not sure... I actually told him that's what I was going to do..." Ping thought some more, "Then he told me we couldn't protect him... I'd just come from the bridge, so I could see his point. I told him he couldn't go, so he said he had something important to show me- something convincing. Then he fires up his computer and surprise! He plays me his favorite song or something, pointed out that I'd dropped my keys... and the next thing I know, I'm getting back in the car."
"Are those the keys you dropped?" Bad Cop asked, pointing to the key ring whistling around Ping's index finger. The beginnings of a smile pulled at his lips.
Ping nodded, feeling somehow naked. He caught the spinning keys and looked at them.
Though Bad Cop was openly smiling now, Good Cop mostly succeeded at hiding his amusement, "You have an antique car, Bannon?"
"Ah... no."
"Antique house?"
"no." Ping said in a small voice.
"What's with the antique keys then?"
Ping had no idea.
Bad Cop was now wallowing in his amusement. "So, you just left our material witness who fears for his life at home? Now that's some solid police work. Did you at least give him your gun for protection?"
Ping shook his head, resisting