reason for conducting this procedure would be as part of an attempt to create a chimera, the genetic fusing of two distinct species into one. The victims we found were being used as human incubators, live test tubes providing or receiving rare O-negative blood.”
Commissioner Devereux stared at both Tyrell and Lopez for a long moment. “And this, chimera? Who, or what, exactly is it?”
“We don’t know yet,” Tyrell said. “Once we’ve got further pathology we’ll push for the district attorney to grant us a prosecution.”
Cain smirked in bemusement as Captain Powell unexpectedly chimed in from his seat.
“We’ll need something more than this for the DA to get involved, Tyrell.”
Commissioner Devereux looked at Cain. “What’s your take on this?”
“I’ve got real crimes to investigate,” Cain muttered. “The Bureau doesn’t have time to be chasing around the District after Lucas Tyrell’s mad fantasies.”
“Since when was homicide not a crime?” Tyrell asked.
“Since it was suicide,” Cain shot back and stood from the table, Agent Denny alongside him as he turned to Commissioner Devereux. “What are the chances that this is an international conspiracy involving genetic experiments, against those that it’s an ordinary overdose of three drug abusers in a downtown hovel? I recommend that this case be closed and our time spent on more fruitful avenues of investigation.”
“We have a suspect!” Tyrell almost shouted in disbelief.
“Damon Sheviz?” Cain uttered airily.
Tyrell felt his heart skip a beat and his jaw hang open.
“Where did you get that name from?”
“Interpol,” Cain murmured with a sly grin. “I did in fact read your report properly, and I also checked our data on Dr. Sheviz’s whereabouts. Turns out he was liberated from a terrorist cell in the Gaza Strip barely an hour ago, where he’s been held for several days. The chances of him being your supposed deranged surgeon would appear somewhat diminished, Detective.”
Before Tyrell could reply, Cathy Devereux made her decision.
“I suggest that we close the proceedings forthwith.”
“Close the proceedings?” Tyrell uttered as the commissioner stood from her seat.
“Yes, Detective. This case has grown disproportionate to the value of its potential convictions.”
“You think I’m exaggerating the extent of the crime?” Tyrell demanded.
“And not for the first time.”
“The surgeon we believe is involved has dual Israeli and American citizenship and hasn’t been seen or heard of in the District for several weeks, until now.”
Cathy Devereux sighed heavily, searching the ceiling as though for inspiration.
“You’re connecting yesterday morning’s case with abductions halfway across the world.”
“No surgeon in the United States would dare carry out a procedure like this unless the patient was at death’s door,” Tyrell insisted. “If I was this guy and I wanted to both escape a murder charge and continue my work, I’d go somewhere that would have me.”
Powell rubbed his temple with one hand.
“You realize that if you’re right, then this is indeed an international crime and an FBI matter?”
“If it’s crossed international borders,” Tyrell said, “then it can go to Interpol first. Extradition could follow.”
Devereux chuckled out loud and shook her head.
“From Israel? Do you honestly think they’ll give up one of their own, especially a respected surgeon, on a charge as thin as this?”
“The charge isn’t thin,” Tyrell insisted.
“It’s all circumstantial,” Devereux shot back. “You won’t get extradition.”
“The file says he was working in a charitable position for the American Evangelical Alliance,” Lopez cut in, “who have strong links to the Israel lobby in Washington and to the government of Israel itself. The AEA owns the hospital that he worked for and where we found our survivor. Not only that, but according to our research, the AEA’s owner Kelvin Patterson has a long-standing interest in using experiments on humans to prove the existence of God.”
Commissioner Devereux leveled Lopez with an uncompromising gaze.
“Do you have any idea how it would look if I put that in front of the district attorney? I’d be laughed out of the damned office. Do you even have a witness to any of this?”
“We have a single witness, Daniel Neville, under assessment now,” Tyrell replied, deciding not to elaborate on the patient’s mental capacity. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to—”
“Would Daniel Neville be an inmate at the hospice in Ivy City?” Powell asked.
Tyrell blinked in surprise. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”
“I can’t give you any more resources,” Powell said quietly, almost apologetically.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because your witness is lying in the city morgue.”
Tyrell felt his world tilt as he processed what he had heard. “The morgue?”
“Suicide,” Powell said. “Little over an hour ago.”
“That settles it then,” Commissioner Devereux said with