All Of Us, Part II


corbin2_icon.gif henry_icon.gif lashirah_icon.gif martin_icon.gif ryans2_icon.gif veronica_icon.gif

Also Featuring:

bryan_icon.gif elle_icon.gif agent-grant_icon.gif the_haitian_icon.gif lee_icon.gif maria_icon.gif

Scene Title All Of Us, Part II
Synopsis The Company reconvenes for a second meeting about cases both New and Old.
Date March 25, 2010

Fort Hero

Leaning back in his high-backed leather chair, one leg crossed over the other and hands bridged near his chin, it is with an expectant stare that Assistant Director Martin Crowley watches the proceedings of Company officials moving in to the dimly lit conference room within Fort Hero's first basement level. A large flat-screen monitor glows with pale light from a list of names slowly scrolling down the display, a computer program searching visibly through NYPD databases for mugshots.

Half lit by the glow of the monitor, only one of the lenses of Crowley's glasses are illuminated, reflecting that pale light back like a single glowing eye. Through the open door to the conference room, two agents come quietly walking in to an already half filled room. The coppery red hair of Agent Gracie Lee stands out even in the dim lighting of the office space, her eyes only momentarially flicking up from the blackberry at which she's typing. All sleek lines and black suit, she silently sweeps her way over to an unoccupied chair before folding down to sit, glancing up and over towards the grimacing man following behind her, reviewing documents in a red folder, her partner Agent Grant Fitzpatrick.

As Martin watches the agents emerge, Veronica Sawyer and the Haitian slide in next, the pair quiet as they move to the back of the conference room and take seats at the end of the table, joined a moment later by Agent Webb who offers a subtle nod towards Agent Ryans, who'se already seated at the table between Agent Ayers and Agent Delgado.

Notably, there's a seat empty on the other side of Corbin, a seat where newly returned agent Hokuto Ichihara should be sitting, her murder still leaving a very large and very empty hole in the Company's roster. Opposite of where Corbin sits is the only other agent at the table with a laptop, currently face down on the laptop, arms folded and eyes closed asleep. Agent Lashirah Lee has been working non-stop for hours in the laboratory since yesterday, and these brief power naps are one of the few things that can keep her going. That and, of course, the vibrant blue Slush-O sitting next to her on the table, half finished.

Notably absent from this round of meetings are the higher echelon of the Company. Directors Dalton and Bishop are nowhere to be seen, and Mister Thompson hasn't been present much at all. It would seem that after their recent "success" with the Winslow case, Martin's new investigative unit has the approval it needed.

"That… about looks to be everyone," Martin admits with a raise of his brows, turning in his chair and scooting forward to rest his elbows on the tabletop and lace his fingers together. "First of all I'd like to take this moment t'congradulate all of our agents on a job well done investigating th' Albert Winslow case. While it didn't end how we'd hope, the threat he poses to the public is over. Now, I know some a'you might've noticed that Agent Ryans is lookin' a little shiny these last few days, an' just t'stp the rumors of those of you who haven't read 'is report— yes, Winslow affected him with some sort of age reversal, an' no, we're not sure if its permanent."

Glancing askance at Ryans, Martin furrows his brows and nods his head once slowly. "We still 'ave the matter of the microwave-emission murders t'look into, so I think I'll open th' floor t'agents involved in that investigation first, see if there's anything you'd all like t'share about that case and our current suspect Luke Campbell, directions you'd like t'take the investigation an' the like."

The fedora that Ryans has started wearing in this cold weather is set on the table in front of him, while he is leaned back in his chair, that foot resting on his knee, a hand gripping the ankle. At the mention of his name and what has happened, the agent is rather stoic, glancing around the room. He knows damn well the rumors have been flying.

The mention of the Luke Case, Ryans leans forward, arms resting on the table. While he looks young the quiet bass of his voice is just about the same. "For those of you that have not read my report. After going through the Department of Evolved Affairs, I was able to secure a meeting with Doctor Harve Brennan. He was able to positively identify that Campbell was at one of the sites. From speaking to the doctor there is a slight chance that this young man might not be fully aware. The doctor stated that Luke — Who told the Doctor his name was Larry — was disoriented, without a jacket, and in shock when the doctor saw him. He even seemed surprised about the body, especially when told it was human."

He leans back making a bit of an uncertain motion of his hand. "While it may not absolve the kid of what has happened. There is a chance this is a case of control loss. Something to keep in mind." That said, he gives a nod towards Martin, in a statement saying that is all he has really.

Ryans' new look gets an arched brow from Veronica. Her dark eyes drift to the empty seat for a moment, brows knitting together with sorry and also worry for the man beside that vacant spot. When Crowley mentions the Campbell case, she lifts her hand, still encased in plaster, for the imaginary conch shell and the right to speak. Ryans begins first, and his words have her nodding in agreement.

"From talking to his mother, I'd say it is a case of lack of control. She seems to think it was deliberate … malevolence… on the kid's part, but it seemed small manifestations of his power may have occurred mostly when he was angry, hurt, scared — I don't think this is something the boy can control, which makes it even more dangerous… so far, at least one of his targets probably had it coming to him — turns out Robinson was selling tainted drugs — we're talking really bad stuff. Glow sticks instead of Refrain. No one will be crying for the loss of that lowlife. But now he's off Staten…" she shrugs. Fill in the blank: Luke Campbell could kill someone who actually matters to someone.

"Mostly dead ends out there, but I have a lead I'll be looking into. Pretty sure he won't be heading back to Staten, though," she says, fingers toying with her own Blackberry.

Henry is quiet, listening to this. There's some sympathy in his face, because, hey, powers out of control - who wouldn't be frightened by that. But he doesn't weigh in, other than to look at his fellow Agents, and wonder, "……and we've got no lead on his present location, right? And this guy is apparently non compos mentis?" He's got a bottle of water, but it's apparently there for corgis to play with, rather than drink from - he toys with it, but doesn't open it.

The one remaining member of the archives sits slumped in his chair, hands on his keyboard, eyes staring forward, as if he's lost in thought. There's a couple folders on the desktop Corbin keeps staring at, but he doesn't mouse over to open them. Names on the folders appear to be coded, making it hard from a glance to tell what's in them, but the one he keeps glancing at is KEY.

"I have a few thoughts on how to narrow down a location, but it'll take time," he simply says quietly, voice a lot softer then it'd been the last meeting they'd had. He'd seemed suddenly excited, brighter, and more willing to try to please. Now he's distracted, quieter… and not smiling at all.

Even when he clicks over to instant message and pings a message across the room to Lashirah, hoping she's left her sound on.

Wake up, meeting's started.

Lashirah nearly LEAPS out of her chair as the sound the computer makes isn't the one you'd expect. It is, instead, the sound of a WWII era Stika Bomber siren. "Huh-wuh?" She blinks. "Oh man I fell asleep didn't I?"

Pinching his fingers at the bridge of his nose, Martin breathes out a sigh and shakes his head slowly on Lashirah's rude awakening. He offers a side-long look towards Corbin, then Lashirah, then just shakes his head and shifts his weight in his chair. "Given everythin' I've been readin', I'm of the mind that this Campbell fellow certainly is our perpetrator. Which means I want all of you exercising any means necessary to locate him. Hit up homeless shelters, soup kitchens, anywhere that someone with nowhere to go might wind up headed."

Then, with a look towards Corbin there's a shift of Martin's brows in raised quality. "If you have a pla, Agent Ayers, then by all means do whatever you need to do to catch this kid. The longer we wait the more risk we put ourselves and our agents at that he may kill aga— "

"Heeeey Ryans, looking good." The taunting young woman's voice comes from the doorway of the office room, where two silhouettes bar what was once the dimly lit concrete corridor beyond. The shorter and blonder of the two steps into the room with a click of her heels on the tile floor, one brow raised and cherry red lips crooked into a playful smile. "Been a long time, old man. Well, I guess I can't call you that any more, can I?" There's an impish tone to the young woman's voice as she crosses her arms over her chest and offers a blue-eyed look to Agent Crowley.

"Aren't even going to introduce us, Marty?" The blonde asks with a purse of her lips and a sly grin as the looming shadow of a muscular man with a shaved head and dark goatee enters in behind her. Martin's brows furrow, a strained sigh escapes his lips and the assistant-director leans forward to breathe out a weary sigh across the backs of his hands.

"Ah, yes I— nearly forgot about the two additions to our investigative force. Director Bishop has afforded to us a pair of agents whom have been— " Martin glances at them, then back over to the agents at the table, "derailed with other assignments. To those of you who do not already know them, I'd like to introduce you to Agent Elle Bishop," at the motion of Crowley's hand to the blonde, Elle arches her brows and taps her fingers together, tiny crackling sparks of electricity sputtering between them as she does, moving to take a seat at the far end of the table, "and Agent Bryan Buckley." The tall, dark man offers a quiet nod of his head, furrowing brows at Elle before offering an askance look at Veronica as he moves to take a seat by Elle. "Bishop and Buckley are going to be handling some private matters for me for a little bit, but I wanted them to be briefed on what we're doing all the same. They won't be available to assist you right away, but soon enough I figure."

Then, tugging at the collar of his shirt, Agent Crowley breathes a quiet sigh. "These two individuals will also be joined by Agent Colby Martinez, some of you may remember her from last year?" There's a glance over to Veronica, then around the table. "Agent Martinez hasn't been formally assigned to the investigative branch, yet, but I expect she'll be available relatively soon. I'll be sure to forward her contact information to you as soon as she's available."

An amused look goes to the lab tech, before a familiar voice hits the senior agent. His back stiffens some, at the sounds of Bishops daughter. She's what he never wanted his own girls to end up like and he was very glad they never showed any talent. Eyes narrow somewhat at Elle Bishop. "Little Elle." The words rumble sightly, with only a touch of displeasure. "I assure you, I may not look it, but I have clear memories of the baby girl you were. Do not let the exterior fool you, young lady, I am still an old man." A hand lifts and taps the side of his head.

Then Corbin draws the senior agents attention. "I am curious of this idea of your's, especially if it will get results faster then taking a photo to a homeless shelter and showing it around." A glance goes to Martin. "You know how closed mouthed they can be around 'Feds'. Not that we can not dress down for it, but if Agent Ayers idea could shorten the time. I would be interested in hearing about it."

The crackle of electricity gets a slight frown from Veronica. She only knows the other agents in passing, but she never much cared for Elle's flagrant use of her power when it wasn't necessary. She chuckles a little at Ryans' words, but the humor doesn't carry to her eyes. She arches a brow at Buckley. She knows who he is, but they've never had much interaction, so she doesn't know what she's done to earn his dirty glances. "That'd be useful. Yell if you guys need me in on it," she offers, though her eyes flicker back to Crowley — her other case may not allow such offers of help, she knows.

Electricity. Now that's cool. That has Henry giving Elle avery thorough looking over. And not in that 'hey, a pretty girl!' way. More like he's mentally turning over just what kind of a threat she might be able to offer, for or against them. Buckley's far less interesting, but he gets that exam, too.

Well, now he knows how to wake Lash up if she dozes off again, at least. Before, Corbin might have smiled, and even looked mischevious, now… now there's not even the hint of a smile, and he just settles back. Mission accomplished. The sleeper has awakened! And— they have a lightning bug joining the party. Sure in archives he didn't see much of Miss Elle Bishop, but that doesn't mean her reputation failed to preceed her.

"My plan involves outside sources. It may not turn up anything, so digging under rocks and the usual methods will probably be good until them. I wouldn't want to pin everything on a hunch," he says in a quiet tone, watching the new arrivals. And likely grateful they didn't take the empty seat next to him.

Lashirah sighs and shakes her head at the introduction but remains quiet. She has nothing to add to the case currently at hand… Nor any public comments about things.

"Right then," Martin notes in a muttered tone, "The ball's in your court then, Ryans. Keep at it." Rolling his chair out of the way of the large flat-panel LCD monitor at the back of the room, Martin motions ot the screen with a remote and clicks it on, revealing Corbin's laptop desktop, then slides the remote down the table with a plastic clatter to rest just between where Corbin and Lashirah are. "Alright, Lashirah, Corbin… let's get us up to speed on our new cases, as if we didn't 'ave enough already." Furrowing his brows and breathing in deeply, Martin looks up to the screen and leans back, folding his hands in his lap.

"Let's start with the juicy case, give me a run down on the information we've received on the Electromagnetic Skeleton case." The what? Agent Fitzpatrick sits up in his seat with one brow raised, glancing over to Gracie who'se just— staring down at her blackberry. There's a furrow of his brows as Grant looks from Martin to Corbin and back again.

"Electromagnetic— " Grant begins to say, only to be interrupted by…

"Skeleton, yes. You heard him right now be quiet so I can take notes." Gracie chimes in with a twitch of one red brow, not even so much as looking at Martin or Corbin as she continues to click away. Likely, she's working on a transcript of the meeting with her thumbs.

Two fingers lift to touch Ryans forehead and gives them a flick in a small salute to the Assistant Director, before leaning back in his chair getting ready to listen to the new cases. "Can do." A glance goes to the other agents, eyes settling on those that have this blackberries going constantly. It absolutely amazes him they get anything done, he's tried to do what they are a few times and just ended up calling.

Brows lift at the mention of this newest ability, that is a new one to the older agent.

Sawyer's dark gaze turns from her questioning glance at Buckley to the projection of Corbin's desktop up on the screen. She doesn't say anything but merely raises her brows. Electromagnetic skeleton? A doctor's daughter, a would-be neurosurgeon herself, this garners her curiosity. She doesn't take notes on her PDA, however; instead she picks up a pen and prepares to jot notes on a legal pad in front of her.

That didn't make any sense. Henry's wearing this 'WTF?' owl face. Apparently he's missed out on any intimation of this case entirely. Or the playing dumb is reflexive.

"Electro— oh, I had it under Glowing Skeletal Handprint Case," Corbin says, finally sitting up in his chair for more than a few minutes, clicking something on his computer, to allow for the display of pictures on the big wall that does those things. There's little enthusiastic about his motions, though— he might as well be teaching a boring class with as much fun as he seems to be having. "We have three bodies. Cao-Lin Shen, a 43 year old Chinese-American suspected member of the Triad." A picture comes up, an old mugshot, actually. "He was arrested in 1994 for a racketeering charge, which he plea bargained out of. He worked at the Clearly Cleaners laundromat on Canal, was divorced and currently single. He failed to report to work on February 17th, and was found dead in a dumpster in the Red Hook by public works on the 20th."

One dead guy down. It's not really something he likes, and he's not really explaining why it's called the Glowing Skeletal Handprint Case.

"Next, we have Ronald Ho, a 46 year old Chinese Immigrant and a Yellow Cab taxi driver." Another picture comes up, from his taxi photograph id. "He missed work on the 14th of this month, and was found dead behind the Golden Luck Dragon Restaurant in Chinatown on the 16th. No record in the United States, but we were unable to get access to any Chinese records on him."

Another picture clicks up, also Chinese, by the look of it. This one a driver's license scan. "And the third, Johnathan Han, Chinese-American. He was the youngest, at 30. Unmarried and working in the Cho-Min Deli on Canal. He was not reported missing, but was found dead three blocks away from his work in an alley on Mott Street in Little Italy on the 22nd by the police." The pictures click off. "Your turn, Agent Lash." Since there's two Lees, she's now Agent Lash to him. Does that mean he thinks she has a whip?

Lashirah takes the remote and switches the display to her laptop, which she opens up. The first thing that is displayed is a trio of pictures from the autospy room… all taken under black light. On their chest, located roughly above the heart, is a luminecing green handprint. "Offically, as of right now, these three are of 'unknown' cause of death." She opens another picture, of the most recent body… with iron filings standing on end near it. "I'm going to go on a limb here… and say that all three of them had the electromagentic energy in their body either drained or changed to the magnetic spectrum."

More flipping through of slides. "No poisons found, no diseases. All three are Chinese or Chinese-American, working in areas known for organized crime covers." She pauses a moment. "Working hypothesis: Someone with the ability to manipulate and store electromagentic energy drained these guys. Likely is picking targets purposefully, either Serial, Contract, or Gang related. The after-effects leaves a UV-reactive luminencence, and, for a while, a magnetic field around the individual."

"Martin offers a look over to Gracie on her blackberry, who in turn shoots a glance at Lashirah, then the screen beyond. "According to our database of tagged Evolved, there's no one alive in our records with the ability to manipulate the electromagnetic spectrum. This leaves us with the likelihood that the individual we're seeing the work of here is a new case. Hand print size estimates an adult male, approximately six feet in height. Each hand print is notably the left hand as well, there may be some significance there. Also always the same orientation of the hand, which implies potentially ritualistic utilization of the ability."

Twirling a pen between her fingers, Gracie offers a look down the table towards Elle, then back up towards Martin. "Hypothesis on psychological profile indicates that we're possibly dealing with a white male in his early to mid thirties residing within the island of Manhattan. If we take a look at where the first body was found," Lee reaches for the remote and changes the display on the screen to show a map of New York City, "we'll see the first body was found on the coast in Red Hook. Then another in Chinatown, and then the third in Little Italy. Presuming we have all of the corpses associated with this case, we're looking at a comfort zone centered around Chinatown, where all of his victims were resident."

A click of a button on her blackberry displays a yellow circle on that part of the map. "However the time from the disappearances to the reported presentation of the bodies is an average of two days, barring the last deceased that was not reported missing." Her eyes divert from Martin to the screen. "This means that the killer is likely transporting the bodies to a location, holding them there and then depositing them later. THis implies he has accomplices to help move the bodies as well."

Brows furrowed, Lee eyes her PDA. "Furthermore, the body found in Red Hook may not have been as legitimate a claim as we think. According to the NYPD report, the body was already in the trash truck when the detectives arrived on scene. It's highly possible that the garbage men didn't actually dump him from the dumpster they checked in Red Hook, but another stop earlier along their way, which might change the comfort zone pattern entirely, or we're looking at a killing of opportunity."

Blue eyes divert down to her PDA again. "I'm recommending that we question the trash truck drivers for anything out of the ordinary they might have seen regarding the day the body was found."

There are small nods as he listens to each of the reports in turn, eyes narrowing sightly in thought. By time Lashirah is talking, Ryans is pulling his little notebook out and darting down notes on what is said. Glancing up as new images are put up on the screen.

Veronica likewise scribbles down locales and names, more for something to do while Corbin and Lashirah talk — it's not like she can't pull up the data when she wants it. "Anyone have good connections with Triad on this one?" Veronica asks, glancing up from her notes to the screen, and then around the room. She doesn't think she qualifies; her first case in New York pretty much keeps her from being on the Triad-friendly list of agents.

"The first one may also have been accidental," Corbin says quietly, from where he's sitting. "There's almost a whole month between the first and second, and not even a week between the second and third. Assuming these are all the bodies— they may not be. We could put in a request to the County to see if anyone of Chinese Ansestry came up with no none cause of death that they might have written off. If that mark thing lasts over a month, the bodies could be dug up and put under UV light to see what happens." It's a morbid thought, but…

There's a shake of his head. it's the best thought he has right now, on the case.

Lashirah shrugs. "There's an easier way. Unless he found a way to discharge himself, he's got a pretty massive electromagentic charge going." She grins. "An old fashioned magentic compass should go nuts within a few city blocks of him."

"Unfortunately since the collapse of the Flying Dragon we don't have a very strong working relation with the current Triad in charge of Chinatown." Martin notes with a crease of his brows, "The Ghost Shadows run a might tighter ship than the Ye family did, which means questioning them about what happened might prove difficult. The only avenue of approach I could recommend would be shaking any contacts in the FBI or NYPD to see if they have street-level dealings with the Ghost Shadows."

When Martin considers Lashirah's comment, his chin comes up and he cracks a smile at the notion of a magnetic compass. "That's…" Martin smirks, "That's considerably amusing, I hadn't thought of that. I think that might merit at least a trial run if we get a suspect in mind for this."

Pursing his lips, Martin eyes the screens again and nods his head once. "Alright, Ayers. Let's get the Bank Robbery one up, review that. We ahve some more tangible leads there."

Eyes lift to glance at Lashirah, it leaves him looking amused, much like Martin sounds. Then his brows quirk upward briefly, cause it is worth a shot. Wouldn't kill anything to try. The mention of the Bank Robbery case, grabs Ryans attention. A small nod of his head. "After what Webb, Lee and I saw at the scene you sent us too, Assistant Director, I have been wondering if anything would come up on the research end." A glance goes to Corbin, as Ryans gives the young man his attention.

No Triad contacts. Corbin blinks suddenly, as if he had a thought, but shelves it, because they got the next one to talk about. "Telekinetic Bank Robbery is what they're calling this file, though if he's actually telekinetic is still up for debate. It's highly likely, though, based on descriptions. In short, six hundred thousand dollars were stolen from a bank in Flushing Queens. The bank entrance was shasmed through, the vault was torn off it's hinges. It's probably telekinesis, so we'll go with that for now." He can't direct his eye at the resident Company teke, cause he's not there, but… he continues on, in the same quieter tones that he's had all day.

"It's believed to be connected to a vehicle that was pulled out of the river in Red Gook, crashed into a cigar shape— but not size— just shape, likely the powerful telekinesis again. Two people were seen fleeing the location by witnesses, a young child, male or female, and a masked man carrying dufflebags."

Click, click.

"Despite being crushed into cigar shape, they were able to find the vehicle's registration— it belonged to a Brandon Timm, age 45, resident at 145 Apartment 2D, Hawthorne Street, East Flatbrush, Brooklyn. Timm has one conviction for drunken driving, and disorderly conduct back in February of 2006, over at the Shooters Bar and Grill on Staten. While looking into his background, it turned out he had a brother, Adam, who died in the explosion of 2006, and Brandon was named godfather and sole carefiver for Adam's surviving son, William, now eleven. Possibly the kid fleeing the scene."

A picture slides up on the picture of a man who looks like he's seen better days, a black and white police mugshot.

"That's Brandon, since we'll be looking out for him. I couldn't find any photographs of the son… Now, to make matters more— well there was a guy in the cigarshaped car. Hal Williams, 48. He's got a track record that's pretty long. Three convictions for possession of stolen property. And he was the co-owner of Barber's Pawn Shop in Brooklyn, and resident owner when his partner James Barber died last year in a apparent bad Triad deal. The Barber Pawn shop is actually connected to another case that one of the agents here was on, the Tyler Case… case." There's a frown.

For a moment he seems more like himself, but then he continues. "They found a single 12-gauge pump action shotgun in the vehicle, fully loaded, serial numbers filed off. The police are watching the Timm residence, but he's not returned home, and the NYPD is waiting on us before moving into the home, and the Williams'."

Lashirah takes part of the screen via the projector for herself. "The car, yes, was crushed into a cigar shape, by a nearly even pressure. This rules out ferrokenesis and magetics as most of the sedan wasn't made predominantly of metal. Of note, the man inside did NOT die from the crushing of the veichle, imagine that…" She shakes her head. "Smash to the head incapacitated him. Death by drowning in the river. No casings found in the car so if there were actually shots fired and not something else sounding like it, they were not within the viechle, or the casings were removed. Notably, the deceased has no wounds and the other was seen walking away. Which leaves the question of 'What got fired" and 'at what"

Lashirah coughs, then pulls up another picture. this one of a guard rail that has been, litterally, split in two. The long way. "This is the guard rail that SHOULD have stopped that car from flying into the river. As you can see, it was either torn or cut apart and loose from the rest of the rail, most likely at the same time that the car was flung into the water." She tilts her head considering. "I don't think I need to add that anyone who could do THIS could quite easily crush one of us flatter than a pancake, do I?"

As wih the last case, Gracie Lee is on top of the database and profiling aspect of the case. "This one seems pretty clear cut to me," she opines with blue eyes up to the LCD screen. "We're looking at a likely pairing of robbers planning on escaping New York following the robbery. Brandon Timm and Hal Williams along with Brandon's adopted son. Since Williams did not turn up to be SLC-positive in the coroner's reports," her eyes dart back to her PDA, "we're left with Brandon being the likely offender. Gravitic manipulation couldn't produce the shearing force seen on the guardrail or exert enough pressure to wrench the vault door off of its hinges, even when augmented."

Reaching up to thread a lock of red hair behind one ear, the agent furrows her beows and chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. "This leaves us with Brandon Timm being an unregistered telekinetic with Tier-3 classification." Which is to say, powerful and dangerous. "In all likelihood there was an argument at the scene of the car's destruction, likely based on splitting up the six-hundred thousand dollars stolen from the bank. Given the weather and delays on all major flights out of the city, Timm may still be trapped in the area, which gives us considerable leverage."

Turning in her seat, Gracie clicks a button on her PDA and changes the screen to display the area in Red Hook where the car was found smashed. "Estimating the weather and foot traffic and that no publuic transit was in operation due to curfew hours when the car was destroyed, we have a three mile likely radius where Timm may have opted to hide out. His residence is inside that radius, however the NYPD have stated not seeing him present, it doesn't mean he isn't hiding somewhere nearby.

Glancing over to Martin, Lee rolls her shoulders and sets the PDA down. "Further assessment at this time seems negligible. Recommendation is moving in and investigating Timm's residence for clues, and keeping an eye peeled if the NYPD spots him trying to leave the city."

Telekinetics bank robbery? The various details of the case have Veronica scowling, but she raises a brow and makes light of the matter. Plus she can't resist getting a dig in on a certain conspicuously absent agent. "Anyone seen Paulson?" she quips, making a show of looking around the room for the other agent. "I'm just sayin'."

"Unless Paulson's walking better, I don't think he could pull this one off," Corbin says, either not getting the joke, or just not in the mood to take it as a joke. It's actually almost deadpan, serious. He's practically not the same guy. "I can do some research and see if this is actually connected to any of the other bank robberies, but otherwise, I got nothing on this one." And from the way his eyes flicker toward the clock, he might have other things he wants to be looking into.

Lashirah frowns. "The only thing with this one that bothers me? The car was moving at a high rate of speed, shown by skid marks in the snow, before it hit the water." Lashirah pulls up pictures of the scene. "… There's too many details that seem… loose in this one. Particualrly the sounds of shots heard by a resident in the area, and the lack of gunshot wounds."

"Could be the blown tires," Martin comments, eyeing the pictures on the screen from Corbin's assessment. "All four tires were listed as ruptured in the NYPD reports, might've been that. Sounded like the one witness they 'ad was two rocks short of a box." Whatever that means. "An' Paulson," a pointed look is given to Veronica, "is back on his feet, but he's 'andling a personal matter for me." There's a furrow of Martin's brows, and then slowly the agent leans back and folds his hands in his lap.

"Alright, given everything we've seen 'ere, I'm going to recommend that agents investigate the track company that discovered the body in Red Hook and Ayers, see if you can get that Triad contact. If any of you 'ave any others ideas involving that case, follow-through and run whatever requisitions you need across my desk."

Martin's eyes drift down to his folded hands for a moment, then he breathes out a sigh. "Priority goes to the bank heist though. I want agents on scene at Timm's house to get a look over the scene. We've got the NYPD on it so there shouldn't be too much difficulty in spotting if Timm makes a break for the buildin'. Whoever goes to Timm's, bloody be careful. Don't forget we're still lookin' for leads on Luke Campbell as well, we've got three active cases up and one knocked down. That's not progress people."

Furrowing his brows, Martin leans forward towards the table and then stands, tapping his palms on the vaneered surface. "Come on chop to it!" He barks out, standing up straight again. "Meeting dismissed."

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