Page 17 of Pursuing the Egoist
Greg shrugged again. “I can only speculate. I have nothing on him.”
“Can you work the poster boy with him being around?”
The pause stretched, as Greg searched the floor for an answer before lifting his hands in a dismal gesture. “I don’t know. Not until I know who he works for. I might be overthinking. He might be nothing, just well-liked in the police. Or, if he is with the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, this whole enterprise will be fucked.”
“UNODC?” Yugo squinted up. That sounded unlikely, as his informants never tipped him about any progress in that department’s investigations. Still, he trusted Greg’s instincts and didn’t dismiss the idea.
“It’s just a blind guess, Boss.”
“Then check it out. Wire Leiris’ apartment and car. Tap his phone. Make Greta record their conversations. Put surveillance on him. If he indeed works for someone, I want to know. Dig up every bit of dirt on him. If he had lice in the third grade—I wanna know. And if the UNODC is active, I want to know that as well.”
“Got it.”
CHAPTER 4
IN THE ELECTRIC LIGHT,the heap of pictures burying his desk contrasted against the dark, polished wood. Without any interest, Yugo swiped a photo off the pile, then another and another, but none of them showed anything remotely important.
It’d been five days since they put surveillance on Leiris, but nothing came up. No phone calls, no visitors, no email exchange. Even the audio records Greta had provided proved to be nothing but silly flirtation with rare, veiled fishing for information.
“What about his past?” With a neurotic gesture, Yugo tossed back his hair and fixed his gaze upon Greg, who stood stock-still in front of his desk with his hands clasped behind his back. The rigid lines of his one-size too big jacket gave away the tension of his spine and shoulders. His white shirt strained over his hefty chest.
“Nothing.” Greg shifted, hands unclasped. He bent down and fished a plain, plastic file without a label out of the leather case that stood by his feet, then handed it to Yugo. “He was never adopted, but he had a foster family. They took care of him until his senior years, which he spent in a boarding school. After graduation, he was accepted by the police academy. That is about it. No criminal record. Not even a single speeding ticket.”
“Hmm…” Yugo placed his elbows against the hardwood of the desk. His fingers leafed through the file before he tossed it aside. “Did you hear anything from the UNODC?”
“Yes, but my source didn’t confirm anything. However, that means nothing. He could still be involved, just not officially.”
“What about his foster family? Friends? Any leverage?”
“His foster family died in a car accident years ago. No friends as far as I know. I asked around, but no one knew anything particular about him. He doesn’t go drinking with his colleagues, doesn’t talk much, and even his ex-partners say he is married to his job.” Greg spread his arms. “Currently, he’s allowed to work alone, so I have nothing.”
“What about his love life? Girlfriends, boyfriends?”
“None at the moment. If what people say is true, his relationships never last long.”
Yugo hummed and picked up one of Kuon’s pictures, giving it another evaluating look. A determinate face, open eyes, stubborn chin. He looked ordinary. “What’s wrong with him? What kind of person at the age of twenty-four has no life, no friends?”
“Someone like you?” Greg deadpanned.
Yugo snorted, opting to ignore the smart-ass remark. Placing the photo aside, he opened Kuon’s dossier again. “Where is his psychological profile and medical records? Does he have any diseases? Maybe he’s impotent?”
“It’s at the end, but no, he is healthy.”
The results of the psychological screening occupied a few pages—indicators on the left, scores results on the right. Finding no questionnaire, Yugo read the final assessment. “It says he has high impulse control and a good ability to tolerate stress. That’s kinda ironic, given he nearly killed that serial killer, don’t you think?”
Greg shrugged. “Sometimes a job gets personal? No one can cancel the human factor.”
Yugo chuckled, dropping his attention to the screening again. “Let’s see… Integrity, dependability, intelligence, courage... Everything is normal or above average.”
He moved his finger through the results until he reached an envelope glued to the bottom of the page with a red ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stamp over it.
“Oh, this might be interesting…” Yugo pulled out a folded piece of graph paper. “Is it a polygraph chart?”
Index finger pressed to the thin paper, Yugo followed the diagram. Respiratory rate, blood pressure, and electro-dermal activity looked stable for a while. Flipping to the next fold of the graph, Yugo blinked. “There are some spikes… What is question fourteen?”
“Dunno. But it’s normal, I think. Depending on the examining officer, the test can have tricky questions that make people nervous and trigger electro-dermal activity. Sometimes candidates are expected to lie.” Greg’s phone chimed. He fished it out mid-explanation. His eyes focused on the screen, but he kept talking. “Like fights in school, cheating on tests, the first joint. Also cases of underage violations, like smoking and alcohol usage. Lost virginity. Things every normal teenager does, but no one admits at a job interview. However, there can be false-positive or negative results. This thing can’t be trusted.”
Dropping the graph paper, Yugo leafed through the folder; his brows knitted in disappointment as his curiosity grew. “Why is there no questionnaire?”
