A Finger, Pointing


leland_icon.gif minea_icon.gif murdoch_icon.gif

Scene Title A Finger, Pointing
Synopsis In the ongoing hunt for Felix, Leland and Minea bring a severed finger to biological postcognitive, Murdoch, who reveals the secret memories of a Humanis First soldier.
Date September 22, 2009

New York Police Department Head Quarters

The New York Police Department Head Quarters is an old stone building, rennovated many times over the years. The plaster walls are not as cracked and in need of repair as the various Precinct buildings around the city. The fluorescent lights give the room a rather sterile glow. Old posters, civic reminders, duty rosters and newspaper clippings are tacked up on the walls, rustling every time one of the doors opens. A high, wooden desk sits on the north wall, manned by two clerks, who records all visitors and arrests.
The way out to the street lies to the south, while doors to the offices of the Head Quarters lie to the northwest.

He's back on the horse again, taking his meds again, putting in his more characteristic semi-workaholic hours. No lover, no pets, no kids; of course Vincent Murdoch has little else to do by work, so this afternoon, like most afternoons, he's in the forensics branch of the NYPD headquarters, trying to catch up on what he missed during his small fugue. Thank god the brass need his talent, and understand his 'condition'. He'd have been out on his ass otherwise, especially at his age, particularly since he's not exactly been diligent in paying his union dues. The older detective is in front of a computer, and he keeps adjusting his glasses, as if just the right orientation will make the screen less blurry for him.

Leland Daubrey is a man who follows the rules. Every step he makes as a cop is informed by the word of law. So going to someone with evidence that has not been categorized, that has been given by a secret informant who should be arrested…well, it's a bit like trying to write with his left hand. But these are left-handed times.
The pitbull of an NYPD detective walks towards Murdoch with halting steps, face briefly contorted, a briefcase tucked under his arm. He stops by the older man's desk, raps blunted fingers against the case, grits his jaw and grunts his name. "Murdoch."

Murdoch looks up, brows lifting as he registers the man who uttered his moniker so roughly. "That is I," he replies, his own pointlessly precise diction presented as a counterpoint to the unpolished introduction. His peevishness really isn't personal; he's just got a slight headache from staring at a screen for so long, "Can I help you, Officer..?" he trails off, presenting an opportunity for Leland to name himself.

"Detective," Leland correct. "Daubrey." Dahhbrey. Boston to the core. "I got a favour to ask you. An informant told me to come to you. Calls himself…" He feels dumb just saying it, "…Aries." He eyes the case under his arm. "You want a better reason than that, and I can't really help you. I'm just the delivery man." And he's not happy about it, judging by the way his jaw vibrates.

The accent actually puts Murdoch a little more at his ease. He went to school in the Greater Boston Area, after all, so it's familiar. He turns in his chair and extends his hand for a shake, "Detective Daubrey," he says, putting the correct pieces of the correct name together, "I'll do what I can. Can you give me a little more background? What case does this pertain to?"

Leland makes a face when the faux-name given to him doesn't seem to ring bells with Murdoch. "No. I can't. Look, I know you and I don't know shit about each other, but I'm taking a leap of faith here. I'm guessing my contact knows you, and he asked me to come to you for a reason." He sets the case down and checks to see if anyone is watching. A nod to the other man to open it.

Something else that might put Murdoch at ease would be the familiar brunette in jeans, leather jacket, two weapons on either side of her belt and a nice file under her arm and a cooler. A certain mutual informant had forwarded stuff to her and a warning that Murdoch was gonna get a visitor from Leland and that in order for things to not stagnate or, you know, not advance, he was giving her stuff and poking her in the direction. Hmmmm, HUmanis First finger. What every girl brings on a lunch date.

Okay, she didn't bring the finger, but she brought lunch as she mosey's through the precinct and to her aged friend. "Detective Muuuurdoch! I brough lu- oh!" He has company and lookit who that company is. "Detective Daubrey! Just who else I wanted to see!" Teo's working overtime.

"I will do what I can," Murdoch repeats, with a slight shade to his tone that suggests that limited information means limited insight. Cranky today, apparently. He reaches to pop open the case, thumb and forefinger bracing one corner as he lifts delicately, bringing the contents gradually into view. Minea's appearance causes him to pause, looking up in her direction. He smiles. Yes, he's put very much more at ease, which may help with his attitude problem. "Ah. Fortutious. Thanks so much, Minea," he glances between the man and the woman, "I see we have a mutual acquaintence, Detective Daubrey."

If it wouldn't be too obvious to reach over and smack the case closed, Leland would do it. As it is, he reaches to angle it away. But from Murdoch's position, he can see something strange poking out from underneath a folder full of papers. It looks like a…finger sealed in plastic.
"Agent Dahl," says Daubrey. Tension is obvious. Then again, he's been nothing but tense these past few weeks.

"The informant fairy is working overtime" Minea smiles to the both of them. "Both the men I wanted to see, yes indeed. Has Caravaggio contacted you? Laudani?" She lifts the hand with her folder and waggles it. "I got my finger being run and processed, he send you one too?" This offered up verbally to Leland. Not the first time that Teo has thrown the two of them together. "Murdoch, I bring vittles, and cake, but above all I bring cake, and instructions that instructed me, to be here, when you talked to Detective Daubrey. Ahh my timing is impeccable as ever"

"You are, indeed, the Angel of History, Agent Dahl," Murdoch says. Whatever that means. He gets to his feet, offering to take the kindly borne lunch. "Perverse though it may seem, I think I'll eat after my dealings with the bits and pieces. I'm sure my appetite will remain intact." He looks again between Minea and Leland, "Is there honestly no way you could orient me a bit better? I tend to be more accurate and more focused if I know what sort of moment I'm searching for. Otherwise I may just end up telling you about a very traumatic school yard fight our fingerless friend had during the third grade. Not precisely useful for attaining warrants."

"Fucking hell. Why does he ask me to do things when he's just going to send you to do it?" Quite likely because Teo doesn't trust Leland. Probably sensible, but still. Doesn't do anything for his policeman's ego. He shoots Minea a look that isn't exactly kind. But he can be forgiven for a fouler than average mood, right?
He looks at Murdoch and squints. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He doesn't know Murdoch is Evolved, or if he does know, if he read a bio at some point, he's since forgotten. "Look. I didn't get told how much I could trust you. And you all might be used to this flying below the radar shit, but I'm not. So I'm keeping my mouth shut unless I have to give more information. All I was told was to bring that to you, and to ask you not to say anything about it. Period."

"And that, Daubrey, is precisely why he gave stuff to me too. That you'd clamp up tighter than a straight ass." She cranes her neck to look at the file, doing the homeland thing which equates to her reaching for the file that Leland was passing over, replete with finger. "oooooh, murdy… he has finger for you to look at! Maybe I shouldn't have brought lasagna for lunch" She might be kidding. Maybe not.

Minea just raises her brows at Daubrey and his ignorance. "Wow. Wait, you mean, you brought the file to Murdoch, and didn't bother to wonder why you were bringing a finger? Did you think he was gonna dust it for fingerprints? Oh this.. this is good. where's my seat, I gotta watch this. Murdoch, you need some ice water for after or some of your pills?" She's been on the receiving end of his ability before, when he was at a bad time.

"That would be very much appreciated, yes, Minea. Thank you," he says. The little orange bottle is perched, at the ready, by the keyboard. Anti-psychotics. What sort of job do you have to have to need /that/ to get you through the day? "Forgive me, Detective Daubrey. I just assumed you knew what I can do. Your informer apparently does. I'm a postcogntive. Evolved," he tacks this on, with a touch of reluctance, as if he doesn't feel the descriptor should entirely suit, "I can take a look at the memories of this finger's previous owner. It would be easier to help if I know which memory I was searching for, hence my insistant questioning. My apologies for not being clearer."

"I figured I shouldn't ask questions I don't want to know the answer to," mutters Daubrey. "Fuck him. The least he coulda done is told me he put you on this too. What the hell was the point of me playing messenger, especially when you two know each other already?"
Leland tries to get a handle on his famous temper and takes a deep breath. "It belongs to a fucker named Emile Danko. Humanis First. Look for anything involving Agent Ivanov or where they're keeping hostages."

"And there again, Detective Daubry, it's because I know more about Mr. Danko than you do" But that was from Emile Danko? From her own folder, minea produces a picture of a cold eye'd taciturn closely cropped man. Emile Danko written on the back of the picutre. "Reference" Offered up to Murdoch. "My finger isn't from Mr. Danko, it's from someone else. Let me get the water while you work"

Murdoch takes the picture, examining it with an impassive look on his face. He sets it on the desktop, then turns back to the suitcase. He reaches in and carefully extracts the sealed finger. He holds it in the palm of his hand, examining this now. "I'll need to extract it," he says. He gets up and moves to one of the work stations, opening a drawer and removing a small knife which he applies to the plastic, working on freeing the severed digit. "I wonder how it is your bellicose informant got his hands on these fingers," he muses, with ostensible idleness. The tip of the knife is used to roll the finger out onto the tabletop. Murdoch tugs up his sleeves, mouth thinning before he reaches down and sets two of his own fingers to the piece of evidence. His eyes slide shut.

"If this kid wants people to not think he's a fucking psychopath, he should stop chopping off peoples' fingers and packaging them up," mutters Daubrey, though he keeps his voice pitched low so as not to disturb what Murdoch is about to do.

"Likely, it was out on Staten Island. Mr. Danko had an altercation there, him and buddies. Probably Laudandi and his little ragtag bunch of buddies. Who seem to get the job done more quicker than we do. Don't discount him Daubrey, he did give you the tip about the bombs at PP1" mind you, she gave Laudani the blueprints to PP1 as well. "Getting you something to drinka nd for your hands" It's tossed over to Murdoch as she disappears out the door quickly.

Violent deaths and grim pasts are something Murdoch is accustomed to experiencing. One of the many reasons he's not precisely thrilled to have this 'gift' of his. But it is certainly useful. The older detective remains in contact with the finger for a good five minutes before his eyes snap open and he yanks his hands away from it. Sweat beads on his forehead and he lifts a wrist to clear the perspiration.
"This finger belonged to Emile Danko's lover," he comments, matter-of-factly, "A marine and a comrade in arms. He was possessed by some entity shortly before and while Danko shot him to death. He was privvy to information about murders, kidnappings and tortures. I… can write a more comprehensive report given a little time."
Murdoch makes his careful way, feeling a little unsteady after the submerging into the memories, to a tub of hand sanitizer and carefully purges both hands. "Needless to say, this is not, in fact, Emile Danko's finger."urdoch makes his careful way, feeling a little unsteady after the submerging into the memories, to a tub of hand sanitizer and carefully purges both hands. "Needless to say, this is not, in fact, Emile Danko's finger."

So either Leland was lied to, or Teo had bad information. Neither is particularly good news. But it could be worse. Leland rubs at his chin and pulls a face. "Time is something we don't have a whole hell of a lot of, Murdoch." His tone drops to a low murmur. "He's got a Federal Agent kidnapped, and the information you just got from that thing might let us find him and save his life." Or at least kill the bastards who killed him. "My number's in the folder." And then the Bostonian turns to leave.

Minea eases back into the room at Lelands little unhappy spill of words. Bottle of icewater in hand and some towelette's. "I'm working on it Leland" Using the man's first name. "I've had a telepath for the last few weeks out in the ruins. We'll find him. Staten Island seems to be where Danko may have a hideout, i'll be going there. We'll find your partner" There's a pause from the woman to rest a hand on Leland's shoulder for just a moment, or try to before she continues on to Murdoch's desk. "I'll take down what murdoch saw and CC you"

Murdoch winds back to his desk and takes a heavy seat, taking the pill bottle in hand and doing the press and twist necessary to get it open. "Glad to be of service," he says, a touch dry, "You'll hear from me soon, Detective Daubrey." He offers Minea a grateful smile, popping a pair of pills into his mouth and then reaching to take the water.

"We'll find a fucking corpse if we don't get some information soon." The only thing that makes Leland think that Felix is still alive, is that Humanis First seems like the type to gloat about that kind of high-profile killing. With one last look to them both, Leland heads back in the direction of his own desk.

"Not if I can help it" Minea mutters, pulling up a seat beside Murdoch so she can watch the other detective take off. She can understand the attitude. If it was her boyfriend who was dragged off, she'd be compromised meotionally too. "Hey" Her head swivels on her neck towards Murdoch. "How you doing?"

The detective lifts a finger, begging a moment as he takes a swig of water and downs the pills. He sets the glass on the desktop, then his spectacles and placing them down next to the glass. Thumb and forefinger massage the bridge of his nose. "Better," Murdoch says, "Which is not to say 'splendid', but certainly not to say 'awful'." He opens a document on the computer and begins to tap, writing down the collected memories before they fade away, dreamlike. After a tapping out a first paragraph he pauses, turns to look at Minea. "Sorry. I am being irascible, and while perhaps irascibility is not /totally/ inappropriate, you are certainly not the proper target. Thank you for bringing me lunch. I'd have forgotten to eat at all, were it not for your kindness."

"Best to get what you see down on paper before you forget it. So you don't have to go playing toesies with the finger again Vincent. DOn't worry. I can stay here and keep you company. Was why I brought lunch. I'd planned to spend the whole day lurking, for when Daubrey showed up. I just lucked out really" Minea's careful not to touch him, lest his control be a bit off and he get another unwanted glimpse of her and her life. Her past.

"You would eat, besides. Your stomach would complain, eventually. The gnawing hunger as it literally starts devouring itself to keep you alive. His lover though? Really" The finger is grimaced at. Not that the man had a male lover, just that.. wow, sleeping WITHIN the organization.

"Never figured him as gay. I mean, the gay people. They're happy. Usually. But Danko" She shakes her head. "Man is colder than a gravestone and just as heavy. But i'll get him. Again. Get finished typing Vincent, i'll keep everyone away from you so you can do this. I'll claim you're on homesec time right now."

Murdoch grimaces, "Only if I get to complain about it later. I'll lose my credibility as an irascible iconoclast if I'm seen as being too cozy with Homeland Security. What little of that credibility I ever have, and all the more precious for its scarcity!" He returns to his typing, remembering the memories he was borrowing. Recollection is imperfect, as always, and he tries not to let too much thinking get in the way of what he transcribes. He can sort out information from the mass of description later. In fact, he keeps his conscious mind occupied by speaking, trying to maintain a short circuit from brain to fingertips. "Gay and homoerotic are things I tend to consider separately. The Spartans and Athenians were homoerotic, certainly, but I'd hesitate to use the term 'gay'. I'd even argue that the Athenians and Spartans were essentially quite homophobic. Look no further than the living Spartan tradition: the military. Homoeroticism is just as prominent as homophobia."

Minea raises a hand, one finger distended but then pauses and nods. "you have a point. And given the natur eof his background" well, no surprise actually. "He just.. he never struck me as such. He didn't look half decent in a tuxedo" She shakes her head, watching what he's typing out as he does, even going so far as to start getting the food out, and occasionally being so nice as to put a fork full of food in front of his mouth. All he needs to do is open mouth, then close.

"You can tell them you got me to feed you, I was that desperate for whatever you gave me. Should make you go up a bit on the interdepartmental standings for credibility. Make the fed jump through hoops. So besides, writing about…" She peers. "New jersey. How have you been? I haven't seen you since.. god, I think we went out for dinner? Something like that" She doens't remember running into him on the street, and his haphazard state, or her warnings to him.

It takes a moment for Murdoch to notice the fork, and once he does he laughs. "Oh, lord, no, no… not until I finally am forced into a nursing home. Thank you, though," he reaches up to take the fork, "I intend to get shot before that happens." He sets aside his work for a moment, seeing the repast that is now on offer. He shakes his head, before taking a bite, chewing, swallowing. "I have been reassembling myself. I was in a bad place for a bit. I chalk it up to transition. Jumping back into police work was more strain than I expected, especially after all those lazy days in the ward." He arches a brow, "Dinner? What about that time we bumped into each other by chance? We were neither of us in very good ways. You look much better, and for that I'm glad."

Abject confusion at the description of when they last met. "I'm afraid.. hazard of the job.. is that I come across some really.." She licks her lips. "Some really interesting people sometimes. I apparently, have no recollection of about… a month or so of time. But really…" She leans forward with her own container of pasta salad. "I didn't look that good? And you didn't? Have a bit of a relapse?" There's a furrowing of the younger - for once - brows. "You weren't like… being shunted back into a ward were you?"

Murdoch lifts his hands, as if to shield himself from the implication. "No, no. Just… a bad spell is all. Even at the hospital I was never alone very often. Out in the world, well, it's the first time I'd been by myself and left to my own devices in many years. The shock unsettled me in a way I should have predicted but didn't. I'm… quite all right now." His lips purse, expression searching, "A lost month? Is this the result of some sort of encounter with an Evolved?" again, when he uses the term he uses it like it refers to a group of which he is not a member.

"I'm told it is. I come in contact with a great many evolved individuals. mostly mundane. I am /homeland/ after all. There's a few others who got hit I believe, so I was told. Someone running around unregistered and .. just.. going crazy wild with their ability. bit scary really but" Somewhat of a lie. There are people going around crazy with their ability. "Please don't tell me that it was me who was running around looking homeless then?"

Murdoch shakes his head, "Oh, no, no, you are always impeccable," he says, "It was a matter of comparison. Perhaps its for the best that you lost that little section of your life. Detective or no, I'm not so obsessed with knowledge that I think that some things aren't better left forgotten," he wrinkles his nose, "I'm being needlessly dour. I blame the finger. Such a pitiable life. Makes me almost feel sorry for the son of a bitch."

"Tell me about him, about what you got off him. So I know what to bring back to my superiors. This case is somewhat my punishment. I got Ivanov kidnapped and they're not happy. Find him and fix up your mistake. I'm sorry you had to touch the finger but, hopefully something can come of it" Minea grabs a napkin, offering it up. "So, He's Emile Danko's lover. Also a member of Humanis first? Did he have a day job? details, as much as you can possibly give me without going back back for a second helping of … manfingers" She motions with her forefinger to a spot on the corner of her mouth that mirrors where some sauce from the pasta remains on Murdoch.

Murdoch turns to his computer, giving a quick distillation of what he's written so far. "His name was Jim Dannigan. Formerly a marine, served under Danko. There were… various sexual politics at work. I may have to go in again to learn more; I admit I get a little… squeamish around the subject. It's usually vivid in the moment, but I do a fine job censoring it as soon as I'm out of it. Um…" he closes his eyes, pulling out what he's learned bit by bit, "The warehouse where Officer Harrison was held… he patrolled the area around it. He knew where it was. Obviously Danko will have moved on, he's a nomad in that respect. Likely…" his eyes open, "Likely Monmouth County. In New Jersey. That's where they were scouting for a new base of operations. Temporary… but it would be the best place to check next."

'Dannigan….." The name rings a bell. "He was one of the names of folks within his little group" She can corroborate that. New Jersey though. She'd never thought to ask Liz where she was being held or ask Laudani where they'd found her. "Monmouth New Jersey. Why the hell does everyone go to new jersey. It's… New Jersey. Only overly frizzy and teased hair there" Humor to the situation though it goes flat. "Well, at least I can tell Harrison that one of her captors is dead or at least missing fingers at the minimum. I'll see if that checks with the finger that I have in homesec evidence. But I suspect it will"

Think think think. Her upper teeth scrape against lower lip as she ruminated, the plastic spoon tapped against the edge of the pasta salad container. "Did you get an inkling of buildings they were looking at? any street signs that might help? I dunno hwo big monmouth is, but, it would help a bit. I'll still see about bringing a Teep with me"

Murdoch lifts fingers to his brow. "Clarification," he says, rather abruptly, "Gah. This just reminds me how bad witness testimony is. The warehouse was on Staten Island. They're moving to Jersey, or at least Mr. Dannigan believed they were, now. I'll have to go back in to get details. And I will. These people have no scruples any more. The things they've done, the lengths Danko will go to. It's not news, of course; it's all on paper. But to have seen it first hand."

"Go back in?" Minea glances to the finger. "You're going … to touch it again Vincent?" There's worry. PLain and simple worry and her hand comes down on his.

"Agent Ivanov is in the hands of utterly ruthless people," Murdoch says, matter of factly; this isn't a matter of martyrdom, it's a matter of duty. "Anything I can do, I shall." He touches his hand to his stomach, "I'll give myself time to digest, and time to complete my written report, but then, yes, I'm going to interface with the finger again. I'll have a better chance of finding what we're looking for, particularly since I know /what/ is going on now."

"Then I know what I'm doing today" Minea mutters. In a good way though. "Lets get this finger back on ice, so that it doesn't .. decompose further, and we'll find you a more comfortable place to "interface" with than a desk in a precinct. If you're going to do what you can, then by god i'll make sure your comfortable and that you have really good painkillers once you're done. I'll also write up some questions. Easier to think it through. Deal? I'll even drive you home afterward"

"I'd be a fool not to accept," Murdoch says, with a small smile, "We'll drag every spec of relevant information out of this remnant before the day is out. With luck it'll be just what we need," a pause, "There are obviously forces at work here, Minea. Before he died, Dannigan was possessed by some exterior entity. It confronted Danko, threatened him about the consequences of doing what he did to Officer Harrison. If it's one of ours, then it's somewhere from the darkest dark of Black Ops."

"I'll hit up Harrison, see what she can tell me. I'll deal with it tonight once I get you settled from the aftermath. For now though. You finish digesting, eat more, while you'll be able to. I'm not Daubrey. I won't grump at you" She gets up from her chair, sliding it back to where it should be so that she can toss the finger into the cooler she had with her and the ice within. "We'll find Felix. OR i'll turn in my badge and move back to France"

Murdoch gives a firm nod. "All the more reason for me to help locate Agent Ivanov. Your absence would be intolerable."
"I dunno Vincent. I think you'd do fine in France too. Montpellier I hear is a real nice retirement spot. WIth my severence package, i'm sure we could live like kings. save your file. I got a laptop in the SUV. You can use that" There'a thumb drive extracted from her purse and tossed onto the desk. "Lets save a crazy russian"

"I could snoop around Normandy on weekends, see if I can locate the birthplace of Marius of Murdoch," Murdoch muses, "I could even try and do it by memory. Though I doubt anything looks much the same any more, previous to 1066." He takes the drive, slides it into place and, with a minimum of confusion, transfers the document in-progress. He stands up with the drive in hand, "Let's."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License