Beginning - Chapter 5
Speedy was hanging out at Colonel Panic's house. He got over the initial shock of seeing a big gigantic old house, but with everything finished cheap and "weird" as he thought of it. It was way cheaper than any motel room, so all he had to do was buy food and drinks.
Colonel Panic got done with his delivery job shortly after midnight. He came home and showered and changed clothes. Pronounced he was going out for an evening walk. Speedy looked at him funny. It was after midnight, he gave him a sort of what the hell kind of look.
"I walk ten miles for exercise at my age, cause I can't really jog as much as I used to anymore. Beats up my knees and shins and ankles too bad to keep that shit up. When I walk? I take two, two liters of water with me, and I use it for obviously drinking water on the trip… and… I carry them in between my fingers, in turns. Its for grip strength."
Panic showed Speedy what he meant by his finger exercise carrying of the two liter water bottles, which looked suspiciously like empty soda bottles. After showing Speedy that, he got out his nylon shoulder holster and he double checked his Smith and Wesson 38 special little snub-nose he liked.
Speedy idly asked.
"What's the load on that thing ?"
They were both members of an online reloading website, it was the one thing that bound them all together.
"The pills are straight wheel weights, which is a couple BHN over dead soft lead. 158 grain lead round nose, two ogive curve on the roundness. Matching police range once fired brass in bulk that I clean and polish myself. Top load WIN-231, which is a hair over 20 kilo-PSI. Works perfect in any 38 or 357 I ever tried it in."
"I'm more of a Glock man…"
"Well, you're a cop. You have to be ready for what I call 'rabid biker gang' scenario. This is just for my social use. I can't picture five shots center-mass won't get me back home in one piece. If I thought I had bigger problems than that? It would be cheaper to move than to up the ante."
Panic tucked in an XL size pocket work T shirt, black, then oozed into his nylon shoulder holster rig in a well practiced rhythm. He wiggled around for a few seconds, checking it settled the way he liked. He tossed on another XXL black pocket work T shirt over it, but failed to tuck in the outer T shirt.
Panic asked, wanting approval or disapproval for his carry rig.
"What do you think ?"
"Eh. Rule number one of a gunfight… have a gun on you. Rule number two, make sure it's anything your hands are used to. It's fine."
Speedbump grabbed up his double stack Glock he always carried and put it in his expensive oiled leather belt rig. He left his T shirt and flannel both not tucked and the flannel unbuttoned. Neither one thought the other's rig was what they would like, but neither thought the other stuck out like a sore thumb either.
They started ambling through the back yard, and were onto the unused road/driveway out the back. Down past the abandoned house and to the steep narrow hill. They followed it down to main street, and headed up to the corner market, where Speedy got a extra large coffee, and Panic bought a couple of energy drinks he liked.
He drank one quick, like a kid drinking beer, and tossed the can. Speedy teased him about littering.
Colonel Panic came back with…
"Fine me…"
…and they laughed about it.
"So, how come you only walk at night?"
"Time. Schedule. Temperature. It's summer, night walking only makes sense. I work 3 to 12. I sleep from about 6 am to 2 pm, and do it all over again."
They were soon on the railroad tracks, and walking in the pitch black alongside mostly abandoned big factory buildings. Leftovers from the town's heyday of steel mills during and after world war two.
"Why the tracks, Panic?"
"Flat. Lonely. Quiet. Near the river, so, it's cold at night. My old lady likes walking paths, I call this my redneck walking path."
"What's wrong with the regular walking paths?"
"Me and her were too many miles out one time to make it back to the car for nightfall. Fucking state park cops will post up near your parked car and give you shit when you get back. Nothing ever comes of it? Its just a pain in the ass to me. I walk my walking path? The tracks? I get zero bullshit. Worst I get, is the occasional teenagers out drinking or fishing along the tracks. Then, they're more scared of me walking in the middle of the night alone. I like to be left alone, to unwind when I walk like this. I hate being interrogated for doing nothing but walking, minding my own business."
"So, why don't you move to a better area?"
"Fuck that shit. I paid less than five grand for my shitty old house, free and clear. Taxes are so low its ridiculous. Its about five minutes from work for me. I don't have any kids, so, the bad area doesn't really affect me."
"What's yer old lady think about it?"
"She fucking hates it, with a passion. She wants me to buy a brick house somewhere nice. I don't feel like spending 100 or 200 thousand dollars, then fixing the house up all over again. And, since it's in a nice area? Expensive taxes. Assholes coming to inspect something every week. Here? The locals are more concerned with poverty crime, so, I can fix and build whatever I want to. I mean, seriously. Why do I need approval and an act of congress, to put a little shed in the my back yard, that you can't even see from the road anyways."
"Neighbors won't complain about construction and call a code officer?"
"No, they won't. I'm surrounded by working guys and retired people. Since I don't have kids, I don't have parties? They're all tickled pink I'm a weird but quiet neighbor. I see them bringing in two by four's and drywall, I don't call on them either."
"Panic… do you have any more ideas about all of this?"
"Nothing but… wild conjecture."
"Hey, I'll take that. I got zero right now, wild conjecture? Would be a step up for us. Spill it."
They had just passed the last of the industrial buildings. The access road had just ended, and there was nothing left but miles of lonely railroad track for several miles until the next town.
"Speedy? It's… really lonely out here, isn't it?"
They stopped walking.
"Sure is, Panic. What's your point?"
"Well. Did I, or did I not… just get you out here, to an isolated spot, all alone."
Speedy waited just a half a second, before he chuckled nervously.
"Speedy, I don't mean anything by it. Just… I did it, didn't I?"
"Okay…"
"Now. Why are we here?"
"You decided to go for a night walk. I decided to go with. That's it."
"Correct. But… notice, will you? Is this, or is this not… the perfect 'smiley' location. Yes… or no."
Speedy looked around.
"Yes, Panic. It is."
"Now, the odds of me getting some guy, even one I know, out here with me on a walk. Pretty slim, huh?"
Speedy looked around. Nodded his head yes.
"Okay Speedy, follow my logic. What would make sense. Pretend. Pretend you're the target. Hell, if I'm making you nervous? Pretend I'm the fucking target. How would this make sense."
Speedy caught the drift now. Smiled.
"All right, I'm following you. Um… you already have ideas? Give them to me."
"Okay. All male college kids. Smart overachievers. My first inclination? Drug deal. But, the problem with drug deal? It would have to be a big one. Not a small personal buy."
"Why?"
"Small buy. Personal use amount of anything? Why walk out into the middle of nowhere to do it. Particularly in bad weather. You have a lot of these and they tend to happen before rain. They tend to happen in cold weather. Small personal drug buy? No way… the bathroom, any alley, your apartment, your contact's apartment. Those locations for a small buy make sense. Fuck it, I've bought weed before. We just shake hands, and, the dime bag that was in his hand, is in mine, after we're done handshaking. Right in the bar, right on the street, right out in the open. No big deal."
"So… you're thinking big drug deal?"
"It is a possibility… but I'm thinking no. From what I read? None of the smiley kids had any history of drug use, no drug dealing either. They tend to be really straight kids. Am I correct? I mean, if drug using and dealing was a common factor, you wouldn't be half as stumped as you are, correct?"
"You're correct. To my knowledge, we're on the same wavelength on that."
"Okay… so… we need a reason to get some future yuppie out here in dress clothes, particularly in bad weather. Into a situation just like this."
"What are you thinking?"
"My theory? It would almost have to be a girl."
"Why?"
"Think, Speedy. If I didn't accidentally have you accompanying me tonight… how could I have gotten you to come along? If you aren't close friends with me, or know me well enough… you're not going to go walking up the railroad tracks with another guy, would you?"
Speedy thought about it.
"Okay…"
"Now… pretend that I'm a g-i-r-l… all of a sudden? It's just like magic, it sounds like a wonderful idea, doesn't it?"
"That's thin."
"Yeah, it's thin. But, I can't come up with another reason that makes easy sense. And? Whatever works on these college boys? It has to be repeatable, it has to be dependable. A girl? All I can fathom."
Speedy put one hand on the opposing elbow. Fingered his chin with his free hand. Then he nodded in assent.
"Speedy? It can't be the person's friend or any regular contact. The victims are all over the map, literally. Let's say I met you in a bar. Suppose we both wanna smoke a joint. Blow a line of coke… whatever. Would you go on a lonely walk up these railroad tracks with me to do that?"
"Well… no."
"Right. We hit the bathroom to blow a line, we step into the alley out back to blow a joint. Now… pretend I'm a decent looking girl the right age to interest you. Now, how willing would you be, to go walking around, in cold weather with me? I'll tell you… you would be a lot more inclined to accompany me on a moonlit walk up the lonely railroad tracks, eh?"
"Okay. How does 'some girl' get control of a young man. Hold his head under water. I'm not seeing it."
"Speedy… the girl is the fucking bait."
"Oh. I got you. Yeah, I guess I could see that."
"I simply can't come up with any other repeatable and dependable method of getting some young college boy to walk down to the water on demand."
Speedy looked off into the black distance.
"What are you thinking, Speedy?"
"Well… we still need motive. You got any ideas on that?"
"Honestly? It's some kind of theft."
"Theft of what though…"
"I honestly don't know, but… the hell else makes any sense?"
"Okay, using a young girl to lure a guy out somewhere vulnerable? That's actually a common thing for a strong-arm robbery. The girl gets the guy into the dark alley, her buddies are waiting. Standard theft. The problem with that here? Almost always, the wallet is found. With money. With credit cards and ID's intact."
"But, you admit my theory is workable… we just have to figure out what kind of theft it is."
"But, there's never any jewelry missing. Even expensive jewelry has been found. No missing wallets. No missing cell phones. What else is there to fucking steal?"
"I don't know… yet. Speedy… what I'm describing, is there any pattern of crime, particularly theft, that this fits into?"
Speedy thought about it.
"Well… it kinda reminds me of a South American thing."
"What's that?"
"Oh, they have a string of things in South America, where the girl will dose the guy in a bar, walk him out just when it's hitting him? Walks him to the ATM and he withdraws the maximum amount of cash and hands it over."
"Why would any guy do that?"
Speedy looked right at Panic. With a serious look on his face.
"Date rape drug. Here in the states? Its almost always used as a date rape drug. Down in South America? They use a lower dose, and the subject is… well, it's not mind control per se, but… they're highly suggestible, and they tend to follow commands pretty well. Believe it or not, the girls that do it? Have it down pat. Actually pretty common down there."
"That doesn't fly up here, for smiley, does it?"
"No. It doesn't… I don't see an ATM out here, do you?"
"No. I don't. Let me guess, you and other investigators already looked into bank records to make sure of that shit, right?"
"Yeah. Goose egg. Panic?"
"What?"
"What… what do you do now."
"Well, if you weren't here with me? I'd be walking non stop…"
"No. I mean… you write music. You write stories. You used to be a computer programmer, and you still do it even if it doesn't pay you. What do you do, when you think you're close, but, you ain't there yet."
"Honestly? I have several ways I go about that."
"List them?"
"Well. My mother taught me when I was real little. When you're totally stuck? You take a break. The problem will all but fix itself, when you come back to it. I mean not every time, but… boy was that a good lesson."
"And?"
"Uh… I go to 'the zone'…"
"What, dare I ask… is the zone?"
"Complete opposite of mom's take a break philosophy. I keep at it. Lunatic style. Keep beating my head against the wall. Don't eat much, drink a gallon of coffee and energy drinks. I'm talking, I stay up, working straight, for… up to 72 hours non stop."
"Jesus H. Christ on a frozen Popsicle stick… that… works?"
"Sometimes. Seems to work well for writing music and writing stories. After I stay up through the night? Just when I'm about to crash… I get fired up and make myself stay awake. I keep plugging away at what I'm doing. I kinda break through the 'wall', and get a second wind. It's my zone. I get… really weird."
"Really weird?"
"Yeah. I don't go out in public like that. I'm strung out. I get weird emotional things. Manic highs, and depressive lows… both are useful. Somehow. I can't explain it."
"But… 72 hours sometimes?"
"Yeah. Three days straight, that's about my personal limit. I can get some kind of third wind sometimes, try to squeeze out the third day… but… then I start to get this weird scary feeling, I call it 'big scary numbers'… and… I have to crash out."
"Any more techniques?"
"Well, there's the 'chewing the cud' thing I'll do…"
"Like, a cow chews its cud?"
"Exactly! I simply think about whatever it is? Morning, noon, and night. While I'm driving, working, whatever. I kind of torture myself, and just keep going over it."
"Why, does this all sound crazy to me?"
"Easy. Because it is crazy… but… it's what I call an 'induced craziness'. I'm not bipolar? But… I kind of force myself to be. I don't have real OCD, but, I force myself to act like it."
"Why… in the hell… would you force yourself to… act crazy?"
"You can laugh if you want, but, there is some undefined link between slight insanity, and what we call inspiration, ingenuity, genius… call it what you will, but… the best minds throughout the ages? If you read about them, they tend to almost all have odd quirks to their personality."
"I'm almost afraid to ask, if there's any more things you do…"
"The last one? It's… the strangest…"
"Fire away then…"
"Okay. This is a long term technique. I constantly imagine… that I'm talking to some famous person, and they're helping me. In my head."
"Like who?"
"Doesn't matter. But, once I get the 'right' counselor, in my imagination? I just keep imagining their counsel. Each time, the conversation gets farther and further."
"What kinds of problems, do these techniques work on?"
"Well… going away and taking mom's break? Seems to work best on mechanical work. Fixing or making stuff. Staying up late? Works best for writing. The extended 3 day thing? Works best for writing music, but, only if I'm onto something and want to see it through."
"And, the imaginary counselors?"
"That? Pretty much works for all of them, in various ways."
"You don't find it all… slightly crazy?"
"Yeah, but that's the whole point, remember? To force the link between insanity and ingenuity."
"Sounds more like… the artistic temperament."
"Same thing, different name."
Just then, Panic lit up a smoke.
"Any more weird techniques?"
"Just one…"
"What's it called?"
"I call it… 'the burn'…"
Panic smiled and blew the smoke from his cigarette over at Speedy. Who looked at him and rolled his eyes. He started to bitch at him, then just shook his head.
"I'm a state cop, you realize."
"Yeah. I also heard you say, on more than one occasion… that you really don't give a shit about it."
"I guess I don't. I mean, you write music, you're a writer, you try to invent stuff… I guess it makes sense. Just quit blowing that shit at me…"
"Sorry…"
"No, you're not sorry. You… just feel like that's the polite thing to say right now."
"Ha! Now, that sounds like something I would say."
"Great. The half crazy guy is rubbing off on me. Wonderful."
"You asked me one time, how do I think outside the box like I do."
"Its the weed?"
"Actually, no. Been doing it most of my life. I… I have some weird thing? Where I can think about something forwards and backwards, at the same time. Or sideways, I guess."
"Sounds like pothead bullshit. Give me an example."
"Okay. I always thought it was some weird thing I did? Until I got into college. Engineering classes, for software engineering…"
"Okay… and?"
"And… well, most people would get stuck on a big programming assignment. I never do. I can easily imagine the beginning, I guess any decent programmer can, but… there comes a point? You're lost. Makes sense, right?"
"Sure…"
"Well… I quit going step 1, step 2… I start thinking about the end, and I work my way back… between thinking forwards, and thinking backwards? The mystery part of the program, kind of reveals itself."
"Would that work… here? On this problem with the case?"
"I don't know. I mean, we would have to have a suspect and a complete M.O. to have the end already, wouldn't we?"
"So, let's recap, then…", Speedy offered.
"Okay. So, you actually liked my weird story idea, about the Gypsies."
"Actually? Yes. I do. Like I told you… for one, it's a real organization. They specialize in little scams and thefts, but, more importantly? The fact that the smiley shit is primarily a north eastern phenomenon? Makes it fit a little bit."
"But not a lot…"
"Well. The weird thing, is that the seasons are reversed. The gypsies are up here in the spring summer fall, and they winter down south. This is the reverse almost… this shit starts up in the late fall, and goes on through early spring."
"Does any other organization move seasonally like they do?"
"None that I know of. Construction workers, but, I fail to see a connection there. That's why I think it might be important somehow. Plus, you… I guess jokingly? Called it a cult or whatever inside the gypsies. I'm trying to figure out what portions of the gypsies would stay north for the winter or anything. Before you ask? I have no ideas on that one."
"Okay, so, we think it might be related to the gypsies. We also think it makes sense it's women doing it. Women as bait."
Speedy rubbed his chin while walking…
"Question. If it is some kind of theft we can't envision, why kill the person?"
"Well, doesn't a rapist kill just to keep their tracks covered?"
"Well, that's rape, not theft. People generally only kill for a theft, when it's some huge amount of money. Plus? The gypsies are known for scams and non violent crime. It keeps them below radar, I guess."
"Speedy, this could be a similar motive. Follow the logic. A rapist learns kill, to cover his tracks. If you kill a witness, they can't go to the cops for the theft. It allows the process to be put into practice, widespread."
"That's… really thin, Panic."
"I know. Just brainstorming on it. Hey speedy?"
"Yeah…"
"You know how we said women luring men, makes the most sense?"
"Yeah…"
"Well, how do women kill, when they do kill? They don't tend to stab and strangle people, like men do. I read, that women will lean more towards poison and accidents and stuff, in general, over the up close and personal macho manly way."
Speedy stopped walking again.
"Panic? We talked about the similarities to the South American date-rape drug thefts? This… would fit in more, with women luring the men."
"Okay, now all we're missing… is what's actually being stolen, and how."
"And, trying to figure out how its a reverse-season gypsy thing."
"Well, that too."
Speedy started walking again.
"Speedy? How close is this, to a workable theory?"
"Its… not that bad of a theory… its not that good either? But… its not that bad…"
"Speedy? Anything on this stretch of railroad tracks?"
"If you mean smiley shit? No."
"Too far away from the university campus, huh?"
"That's what I would guess."
"Now… looking at it like dating? The university campus gives a man or a woman… a big pool of young people to 'hunt' on."
"Yeah. The colleges and universities, are the victim pool, so to speak. The herd of sheep."
"So… what the fuck do rich male college students tend to have, that other young people don't have. High school kids don't have it, whatever it is. The local fishermen, they don't have it either. Only the rich college students…"
"That, Panic? Would seem to be the 64,000 dollar question."
"Okay. Mom time… we shift gears. We're at a dead end. Let's change tack."
"Okay…"
"You got cell phone out here, Speedy?"
Speedy checked.
"I got… one bar."
"Good enough for a text. I want you to text Bluedot."
"Why don't you text him?"
"Because… if it comes from you? I think he's more likely to do it."
"What."
"Bluedot is… hyper logical. Ask him a riddle… and nothing else. I want him thinking with blinders on, to keep him on point."
"Okay…"
"Ask him, what is it, that only rich college students have, that poor college students don't have. Ask him to be very thorough, and to make up a white paper on it."
"Why do you want him working with blinders on, as you put it?"
"Because. He's so damned thorough, when he's working on one single item. I bet you he comes up with some weird ideas we don't come up with. One of them? Just might make sense to us, with our new plan."
"Objects that rich college kids have? Things that could be stolen we wouldn't think of."
"No! a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g. Nice clothes. Speaks a foreign language. Family lives in a rich faraway neighborhood… anything at all. He'll brainstorm a six page paper on it."
"And you think, that if I ask him to do it, he will? And that if you ask him, he won't."
"If it comes from Speedbump? It's… somehow… more 'legitimate' to him. I feel like, if I ask him? He'll just give it a once over… but you ask him? He'll move heaven and earth trying to impress you. I'm not saying it's a fact, I just think its my hunch."
Speedy stopped walking. Looked at Panic.
"Panic? I'm a state cop. I'm an investigator. I go into houses with SWAT gear on… trust me here, I believe in hunches…"
And, Speedbump thumbed out a long, slow text message explaining exactly what he wanted. They waited but started walking again with no reply. Then as they started walking, the beep was Bluedot confirming he would do Speedy's white paper.
"So, what do we try now, Panic."
"Why do I have to do all the ideas. You come up with something, even if it's just a topic of conversation."
"Okay. I got one weird thing that bugs me about this…"
"What?"
"Okay. Its called the smiley face killer, but why."
"Well, as we all know… the guy that broke the case open, if you wanna call it that… he had a drowning that bugged him, and he found a spray painted smiley face nearby."
Speedy prompted him.
"Then…?"
"Then, he finds a couple more. Cases he thinks fits his pattern… and he finds a couple more smiley faces, either on site, or, nearby somewhere close."
"That's the theory, Panic."
"What bugs you about that?"
"Well. Let's say I'm a serial killer. I pull the toenails off, or, I cut the toes off. Or, I spray paint a dick on their forehead… whatever… I'm a serial killer, I'm leaving my mark."
"Yeah?"
"That fits in, with a single killer. Ego to claim credit. This can't be the work of a single killer. What's the smiley face… 'mean' to them, then?"
"Same reason any serial killer takes the toenails or whatever they do… its their trademark. Their calling card."
"But… you got me working on a theft angle now. Why does a theft ring, want to draw attention? Thieves want desperately to stay below radar."
"You got me there. Nothing makes sense in this case, really. Uh… Gangs? Claim territory…"
"Right, but once again? It's a deliberate act, a deliberate mark, to claim credit. Part of the reason this whole thing keeps going on? Is because its so vague, it stays off radar. Why draw a little more attention to it? They would want less attention."
"Speedy, I read a lot of serial killer books in my day. Not that I'm any kind of egg-spurt and all…"
"But what?"
"Well… with sex murderers, in particular. A lot of them start out as rapists. Date rape is first. That goes okay? They start snatching a live one. They get a taste for it. Then? The killing develops. Either as a desire to kill, or, simply as a way to get rid of the witness."
"What's the point here?"
"Well, the one book had a quote that pops into my head. 'First you learn to rape, then you learn to kill.' Where's the learning? Where's the dry runs on this? This shit didn't develop overnight. This would have started out small scale, then developed. Spread through the organization. Like any successful idea, it grows."
"Okay, that's what you were thinking. What I was thinking? Was that this sounds a lot more like prostitution in a lot of ways."
"How so, Speedy?"
"Why target colleges and universities? Easy… lots of horny young boys. Why pick on rich college kids? They have spending money. And, like Bluedot observes… nothing draws together brains and retarded decisions like college kids out for the night."
"Okay, I grant you… the hunting strategy is eerily similar. Then this is where the 'dry run' comes from. But red flag, Speedy…"
"What's the red flag?"
"You said yourself. There's no sex tie in with this thing, right?"
"When the state police are investigating a possible foul play scenario? A rape kit is what it's called on a female victim. Same thing on a male victim."
"They didn't have sex then."
"I didn't say that. Look, did you know that your dick juice stays on in water really well?"
"Not really…"
"Right. It does. Also, the ejaculate stains what coroners call the seminal vesicle."
"Sex or no sex with the victims?"
"That's the problem, Panic. A lot of the victims had sex, just not vaginal or anal sex we could detect. Those that did? Had a girlfriend or a college one night stand we turned up in a few cases. Which is… pretty goddamn normal for college kids, particularly college kids with extra cash and apartments and cars. This is prime fuck time. Your college years."
"Any link between the Gypsies and prostitution?"
"Not a strong link. The Gypsies? Are all friends and close family friends of other Gypsy families. No outsiders. Kind of a low-level mafia kind of organization."
"The mafia is always into prostitution…"
"Yeah, but… the prostitutes? Are outsiders recruited to do the fucking. You don't typically pimp out your family. While there is, as I said, some prostitution done? We're talking hand-job blowjob only. Soft core, like everything else they do. It's very limited. I'd say… whatever average percentage is across the United States, really. Tiny, but it exists."
"Culturally speaking, its what? A family value to run scams?"
Speedy thought about it. He looked up and to the right, furrowed his brow and decided.
"Yeah. Something like that."
"Okay. We adjust our story then."
"How so?"
"Well, mainly because your hunch on prostitution related? Is also a possible vector for one of the whores to somehow get exposed to South America… maybe some rich guy takes one to bone her on vacation? This woman would notice local scams and such a normal tourist wouldn't find out about."
Speedy held his finger up in slight protest…
"Now… it technically doesn't matter how the mythical gypsy whore came into contact with the crime description. But, it happened somehow we'll assume. She somehow… 'infects' the gypsies with knowledge of the South American scam."
"Okay, they start experimenting with the technique…"
Speedy held his hands up in surrender.
"To steal… X."
"Okay… we're back to square one. It fits a theft motive like a glove, but, we can't figure out for what."
"Well… maybe Bluedot will come up with something."
"Speedy?"
"Yeah…"
"What exactly is the South American date rape drug?"
"It's called GBH."
"I've heard that before, I just can't remember where…"
"Gamma… boo-toe… something. I'm not a chemist. My college degree is in human relations. You know a lot of weird shit, you do any chemistry?"
"Aw, a tiny bit. I had two years of Chemistry in high school, to get on the college track. That's two years of lab and book chemistry. Then? In college? I had to take electives in natural sciences, I picked chemistry on account of I had some experience in it, so, it was an easier way to fill electives. Ended up being Chem I through Chem IV. All 4 had lab work as well as book work, so, I know the rank basics of Chemistry."
"Can… you do anything with it?"
"Yes and no. I can balance simple example equations out. I recognize a lot of basic chemicals. When I get on the internet and watch movies about chemistry and using it? I can follow along the basic plot line, so to speak. I can't do anything on my own, but, if I watch a video? I understand just enough of what the guy's saying, that I could probably, maybe, make what he's making."
Speedy laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing…"
But, Speedbump was chuckling off and on intermittently.
"Something… what is it?"
"You know, just enough chemistry, to get into trouble. You ever make explosives?"
"No, but, I will admit… I keep looking into making fireworks at home. I know just enough to be interested, to follow the videos? I also have zero practical experience, so, my best guess would be that I'd end up killing myself on accident."
"You know just enough to get yourself into trouble, in other words…"
Colonel Panic thought about it.
"Yeah. That about covers it."
Panic paused.
"Speedy?"
"Go on…"
"If smiley, whatever it is, is real… they have the exact same water drownings in patches across Europe in a few places. Anywhere there's water or canals and colleges or universities. Would it be wise to construct our theory in such a manner that it tries to satisfy that phenomenon as well? Try to tie it in?"
"Well, under normal circumstances, it is of no consequence to me to worry about Interpol jurisdiction. But, since you put it that way… aren't the gypsies also called the travelers, and are known as, well, basically traveling con men?"
"I guess so. I'm no… Gypsy expert."
"Panic, our theory for a workable starting theory? Seems fine to me. Now… how do we get results somehow. You have any ideas on that?"
"Actually Speedy, I have been having a few wild ideas. What about a serious effort at surveillance…"
"What the hell are we going to use surveillance on? We don't have any suspects really."
"Well… how many do you have around our college and general area?"
"I think maybe… two stand out to me. One was just up from the university, and the other was a mile or so down from it. Maybe one or two more fit, but, those are my own canon guesses."
"We blanket that section of the rail road tracks. With cheap game cams in bulk. I'm talking 30 dollar Tessco game cams doing the job. Ten cams is 300 dollars. A hundred game cams is only 3,000 dollars. I'm not saying it's cheap, but… in terms of bang for your buck? I need my cell phone calculator…"
Panic wondered aloud…
"What is a mile anyways? 100 game cams 10 yards apart would cover 1,000 yards. 100 game cams 20 yards apart would cover 2,000 yards. So… every 10 yards distance between cameras covers 1000 yards. Pick your density coverage, and your start and end point."
Speedy wondered aloud…
"200 cameras would be 6,000 dollars. We need cheap SD cards in bulk…"
Both Panic and Speedy as hunters and shooters and reloading guys and outdoors-men were well versed in game cams. Panic shrugged and calculated aloud…
"Five bucks apiece, probably free shipping. 200 SD cards, would be about… another 1,000 dollars."
"7,000 dollars, and we cover… if 100 cameras, gives every ten yards distance is 1000 yards… then double the cameras, doubles the coverage. Every 10 yards distance is now 2000 yards…"
"20 yards between cameras is 4000 yards… 25 yards camera distance covers… 5000 yards of rail road tracks? Which is tantamount to saying 'river access from the university to hell and back'…"
"That's way bigger than from near the university and down to the other canon victim, it covers between both extremes, plus overlap on both ends. 7,000 in equipment isn't a huge expense."
Panic mused…
"Most game cams give off a dull red glow that's not obvious, but, visible. But… ordering 200 of them? We could spend an entra dollar or two on each camera and get 940nm Infrared LEDs, instead of the common 800 to 820 type… less range, completely invisible."
"Once we scout the tracks on the riverbank, we'll get way more than 25 yards in some spots, probably less in others… but, the extra cameras, so to speak? Can go at common river access points, perhaps a few more. Or game trails above the tracks."
Speedy pouted.
"100 cams, some in weird locations. We can't hack obvious paths to and from. Up trees and shit. Me, you… and even if we get Bluedot on the campaign… we could use more men, Speedy."
"We can't just hire people. Secrecy?"
"That leaves out college interns…"
"Hey, Panic. What about State Police volunteers and academy students… academy students aren't perfect, but, they're gung-ho and eager to please."
Panic winked.
"And free…?"
Speedy smiled.
"Free, and more trustworthy than regular employees or interns."
"Friends with anyone on staff at your academy?"
Speedy started nodding his head and rubbing his chin…
"Of course, I swing a bigger stick at my own state police academy? But, I'm also a SWAT trainer personnel. Which doesn't technically give me any more clout than normal, but, it kinda does. I could have a few people at my academy, make calls to people at the Pennsylvania State Police academy closest to us here."
"Think you can get anything?"
"We don't need any equipment. It won't cost the academy anything… it's a decent field exercise… I still have my badge… I can tell my people, that I'm helping out on my own time in another state… I can tell this academy that I'm working my own regular murder case, and I'm running this as a trial idea as a possible technique…? That sound plausible to you, Panic?"
"Can you get away with all that, Speedy?"
Speedy shrugged.
"I'm already put in for retirement and picked a date… I don't think there's much anyone would say to me about it. And if they did? I don't think it's bad enough of a thing it could affect my retirement if they even tried. 7,000 dollars plus a little more, gives us unlimited surveillance. If we can keep enough SD cards swapped out before we lose anything, and we get enough rotating volunteers… there's theoretically no limit to how long we could blanket the area, waiting for the next smiley."
"Is having people walking up the tracks with any victim substantial?"
Speedy nodded his head vigorously, it was obviously very damning.
"No more corrupted times of death due to cold weather and cold water. No more wondering who walked the victim out. No more wondering where they started floating versus wherever we find them… I mean, it would be pretty much gold."
