Breakdown - Bell
Official Journal - File #---20. Part 1
Papers splattered over Ivan's desk. Dozens of reports, documented phone calls, and dropped leads collectively dirtied his spotless desk. "No leads, all of it!" I shouted. Ivan sat blankly as ever, simply staring at the messy pile of our broken work. Wiping the sweat from my face, I remembered all of the terrible days of relentless research that filled the previous week. Stanton's wife, the dead party go-ers, and now two others had been found dead in an upper class neighborhood. However, there was almost nothing to go off of. The only reasonable suspect was Stanton and these drug dealers connected with him. Even then, this new couple had no connection to any known drug crime or Stanton. One consistant evidence was that people were dying form some kind of chemical substance, most likely ingested. Besides that, everyone, even Scout and Harrow, had failed to dig anything else up about this case. Our first major and serious investigation was going down the toilet.
The entire DDS team sat in Ivan's office now: Ivan, Scout, Harrow, Kathrine, and I. I had called an emergency meeting for brainstorming, but no one could think of any leads or possible loopholes. We even tried to get a hold of security camera footage, but the city's slow bureaucracy had buried the footage in red tape. We had also been trying to find this "Igor" character, but no one could turn up anything. The crime syndicate seemed to cast shadows over his footsteps, and our attempts to locate him had all turned up empty. "Its hopeless, we're not cut out for this type of work!" I said, throwing my hat across the room. It knocked over a small lamp of Ivan's, but he did not even flinch at the crash.
"Hey Bell, keep your cool please. We all have frustration over these ambiguous clues and worthless leads" Ivan replied, dropping Igor's massive file on his desk. "In my opinion, we need to be more aggressive with finding Mr. Haorat. There will be no rest until we have his evidences".
"You don't think we've been trying to do that?" I replied hastily. Ivan shrugged and pulled out his M1911. He examined it carefully. Rain steadily hit the window, and some lightning tore apart the sky. The room grew very dark, with the very dim light from Ivan's window reflecting off of his polished pistol. "Recall my accuracy from our team exercises." His hat and head liefted upwards as if to signal that he was now looking at me.
I wiped sweat from my forehead again. "Ivan, don't tell me you're still sore about your shooting. Maybe you're just a bad shot." At this moment, he stopped moving altogether. I realized, once again, that pissing Ivan off with a gun in his hand is a bad idea. He stopped fiddling with his gun and stroked the trigger with his index finger.
"Jon, please hear me out. I take absolute precision with each bullet that I fire from this weapon. The only reason for me to take such incredibly awful shots would be if I was distracted."
"I... must be missing the point here. You're usually a focussed person, what would be distracted by?"
He sat silently for a few moments, staring at me with his faceless gaze. "I do not know. Something supernatural. It came as a gentle breeze and lingered like a bitter infection. Since this case started, something has followed me, and I feel the need to communicate with it." He paused quietly, letting the supple atmosphere become brittle with cold breathe and slight dread.
"So," Harrow began. "Are you saying a spirit may be trying to contact you? Is this how we're going to find Igor?"
Ivan nodded. "Perhaps. Maybe you should answer that, I should get some air in the meantime." He stood and walked out of the silent room once the door shut behind him, my phone rang, and Harrow's radio buzzed. It was odd, but we certainly didn't take time to think twice. I whipped out my phone while Harrow entered the hall to check the radio. Looking at my phone, I had one message from Maria Anders, Stanton's girlfriend. I checked the phone expecting some lawsuit for medical bills, but the contents filled me with my anxiety than what lawyers could accuse me of. "Scout, Kathrine, get your coats. We've got to go, now!"
"What? Why, what does it say?" Scout asked, jumping off a filing cabinet to grab her coat.
"Here is what it says."
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