Page 64 of Chemistry: The Chemist

This wasn’t a ploy to summon Chem, but when the opportunity presented itself, I didn’t let it slip away. Because, without a doubt, I knew he’d come. I knew he’d appear. And I wasn’t wrong. The results weren’t in my favor, but they were results, nonetheless.

“Johanson! Can you hear me?” Bradford yelled into the com, nearly deafening me.

“God.” I gasped. “Yes. Loud and clear. Can we turn it down?”

I sat up in bed, ready to snatch the tiny bulb from my ear. It wasn’t visible to the naked eye and I was hoping it didn’t get lost in my ear canal. The device was small in stature but packed a punch. It felt like my partner was right beside me, screaming his head off.

“Turn it down, Rodgers,” Jack told our tech guy.

“Sorry, Johanson,” Rodgers apologized.

The volume was much better.

“It’s fine.”

“Get to your desk, Johanson. Let’s brief before you get out of the door. We need to make sure we’ve covered everything.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Though I’d much rather ball up underneath my covers, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the computer. Dread sank in as I looked down at the mouse pad I’d yet to switch out.

“Have you checked your mail?” Bradford asked on cue.

A quick scan over my living room reminded me mail had been delivered to my door all week. The service the building offered was a godsend.

“Yes.”

“Good, I sent you something. It’s in a black box. The sender name should be scrambled.”

Discretion was detrimental. We weren’t dealing with the average criminals. We were trying to infiltrate a criminal empire that was air-tight, sophisticated, and had eluded our radar for years. Hadn’t a string of events begun to connect and a lone witness gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar, we wouldn’t know they existed.

I searched through the boxes, locating one of the two black ones. The letters on the shipping label had me squinting, trying to figure out what they said. To understand that, I had to unscramble them. I grabbed a pen on my way to my desk and began scribbling on the desk pad.

The – I managed to get the first word.

Grey – the second came and the third was a no-brainer.

List.

“Really clever, Bradford.” I chuckled, opening the box.

To my surprise, I removed a much-needed piece of foam that fit right in the corner where my mouse rested day and night. The tan mouse pad had the same words, scrambled about, written across the bottom.

“Thanks, that would be great. Tired of hearing you bang that mouse on whatever surface near.”

“Can we get down to business here?” Macy sighed into the phone.

“This is business,” I responded. “I’m logging on, Jack.”

“Good. Good. Bradford, give us a quick overview.”

Three faces appeared in three different squares on the screen. I was the fourth. The volume was muted because we were still testing the dependability of the com since there wouldn’t be a unit near to cover the audio. The new technology supposedly needed no assistance and could transmit a signal for miles and miles, resulting in clear, concise audio.

“We’re all familiar with the case numbers in front of us. Beside each is the occupation because names aren’t information we’re privy to, yet. We’re hoping to break ground tonight inside of this meeting.

“Up until now, we’ve discovered very, very little. We’re working with breadcrumbs here, people. That’s why this meeting is so important. We’ve profiled each and every member of this elite, very intelligent group of people. Johanson, this is new information to you, but here’s what the profiler has finalized.”

I straightened my posture, excited to hear the new leads in the case. It wasn’t often we had any, so this development was much-needed encouragement and a step in the right direction.

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