Draco Cronnoc II
"I'll interrogate the survivors," you tell the man. "If I can get any information from them, my efforts might turn out to be priceless."
"Right," the man says, looking slightly relieved. "I'll have someone direct you to the survivors. We currently are treating them for minor injuries and trauma."
"Standard procedure," you tell yourself. The people you will be questioning might be suffering from both the physical and emotional effects of the attack.
"Hey!" the man yells to one of the other agents. "Roy! Get over here!"
One of the more spritely men on the team comes running to the man's side. "What is it, Frank?"
Frank frowns. "My name's Graw. Don't call your superiors by their first name."
"Righty-oh," Roy salutes Graw. "Watcha want me to do?"
Graw looks as though he's nearing the point of exasperation. "There was an attack here, keep to protocol! We cannot falter due to improper behavior." He softens. "There is a chain of command, you know. But back to business. This man here is the ranking memeber of the local office, his name is Draco Cronnoc."
Roy looks a little apprehensive. You are used to this; men of your age are not supposed to be working the field. Roy himself only appears to be twenty, but it doesn't matter. "Yeah," Roy finally concedes. "Mr. Cronnoc, if you'll follow me," Roy says as he leads you to the left.
You leave Graw behind and walk behind Roy. Roy seems to be leading you to a small building near the wreckage that somehow managed to weather the blast. Roy clears his throat abruptly. "Mr. Cronnoc, if you don't mind me asking, what's particularly special about you? You've got some sort of quiet strength..."
You smile at the man. "I've got a knack for putting things together."
"Like Holmes?" Roy grins.
"No, not like Holmes," you stop smirking. "Holmes pulls things out of nowhere, in his books he takes one look at you and can tell what your mother ate three years before you were conceived. Some compare me to him, but I look for motives. I look for reasons behind killings. But I suspect you're talking about my physical shape. While I probably would not be able to take you in a fight, I can put a bullet in your eyes from a mile away. Learned that in Alsace, Stalingrad, Korea, and 'Nam. Just kidding, I've on'y been in Korea and Vietnam."
Roy looks at you oddly; you purposely gave him poor jokes to make you seem more like an average person. "Well, here we are Mr. Cronnoc," he declares, opening the door to the small building. "The survivors are inside."
You push through the door, revealing only five people. The five people who lived through the horros of now about an hour ago. They are currently being tended to by medics, who are wrapping their body in bandages.
"Hello," you begin stately. "My name is Draco Cronnoc, and I'll be asking you questions about the events of this morning. I understand you are all in a good deal of stress after the horror you witnessed, but I'd appreciate it if you bear with me. The faster we can get some pertinent clues, the better chance we have at catching the killer. Perhaps he's dead, perhaps he escaped. But we need to find him. Before I begin individual inquiries I'd like to know if any of you have anything you'd like to say."
You scan the five people, but they just continue to stare blankly at you. You breathe in slowly; you must be patient. These people just went through an awful lot and they weren't ready for it.
And so, you decide to plow through the drudge. Somewhere in this veil of shock is the truth. Actually, based on the responses to your preliminary questions, you already know which man will give you the information you desire. But you need to make him feel safer before you question him.
You begin to ask standard questions to a disheveled man in front of you, and then move on to the second person, a rather unattractive woman. Finally, you reach the man you want.
He has a terrified look on his face, but of course he would given the tragic events of the day. His brown hair appears that it normally would be wavy, but on this day it is tangled and littered with debris.
"Hello," you begin slowly. "As I said, I'm Draco Cronnoc and I live here in Richland Harbor. I'll be blunt for you: I read your facial expressions. I know you have something that can help me. What is your name?"
As you assumed, your directness scared the man. He recoiled into his seat, and something along the lines of a hiss came out from his lips.
"I understand if you're upset," your tone changes to a consoling one. "But we need to do this. Let's take small steps. What is your name?"
The man looks at you again. "Steven Brown," he says as he returns to averting your gaze.
You smile calmly. "Good, Mr. Brown. And what did you do at Rigor Industries?"
At the mention of the company name, Mr. Brown begins weeping silently. "I was...I was a security guard. Never missed a day. I loved Rigor. Gave me a job even though I was a dropout. Mr. Rigor gave my family hope. And now he's gone."
You put your hand on his shoulder. "If you want to help Rigor Industries, you can do it by helping me now. Did anyone come in who was unusual? A suspicious-looking tourist? A nervous employee? Someone wearing an overcoat? Someone asking a few too many questions?"
"Stop dancing," Mr. Brown cuts you off. "We both know what you're going to ask eventually: 'An Arab?' Yes, there was an Arab. He was a new employee, too."
Jackpot! This was it. Still, you feign surprise. "Really? Could you describe him, please? What he looked like, what he did."
Mr. Brown stares at the ceiling, apparently trying to hold back more tears. He wipes his face. "I don't know much about them. He was your typical Arab-American, I guess. No long white robes, just a formal suit and tie. He had a black beard, I think. Black hair and dark eyes, of course. Nothing remarkable. He was asking about where he was going to work."
"Oh? And where would he work?"
"He worked in Accounting, third floor. Worked with Lucas Esmodre."
"Is Lucas anyone important?" you ask, not pushing too hard.
"He asked about Luke. Asked if he was working with him."
You practically shout for joy. "And you hadn't mentioned Lucas before he did?"
"Nope," the man is still staring at the ceiling. "But I did get the man's name."
Wow. Christmas came early. And you like Christmas. "And that name would be..."
"Satish Hamed."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You arrive at the Nashville Police Department. Being the capital of Tennessee, Nashville has a database of every criminal in the state. Special stuff that you can't get anywhere else.
Now being the head honcho at Richland Harbor Police, you had appointed yourself to head this case. And thus, you bring yourself here to learn more about the attacker.
You push open the doors and go straight for the desk. "Hello, my name is with Draco Cronnoc, and I'm here representing the Richland Harbor Police Department." You push your badge over to her.
The woman squints at you. "Richland Harbor? That's where the attacks were, right?"
"Yes, in fact that's exactly why I'm here. I need everything I can get on a man named Satish Hamed. I can't be certain he's in this database because I'm not sure he's a former criminal, but it'd be a good idea to check."
"This way." The woman guides you through a door to a large computer. It looks very modern. You gaze at it apprehensively.
"I'm not very good with computers."
The woman scans you. Then she sighs. "Fine, I'll help you. My name is Susan Gray." She turns the computer on and clicks a few icons. "Anything else I should know?"
"Well, if there's anything in his database on a man named Lucas Esmodre, that'd be a big plus."
For a second the woman pauses. "Luke Esmodre...that rings a bell. Luke Esmodre...where have I heard that?" Suddenly her face alights. "Oh yes! He was one of the men mentioned in an occurence with another curator of records. I got interested and researched him. He's on this database as well, and if you want to see his profile you can. So, who're you going to look at? Hamed or Esmodre?"
You are taken aback. Lucas Esmodre committed a crime? Maybe this has something to do with the attacks! Maybe Esmodre left a terror group and they didn't want him to talk! Still, you did come here for Hamed...
"Right," the man says, looking slightly relieved. "I'll have someone direct you to the survivors. We currently are treating them for minor injuries and trauma."
"Standard procedure," you tell yourself. The people you will be questioning might be suffering from both the physical and emotional effects of the attack.
"Hey!" the man yells to one of the other agents. "Roy! Get over here!"
One of the more spritely men on the team comes running to the man's side. "What is it, Frank?"
Frank frowns. "My name's Graw. Don't call your superiors by their first name."
"Righty-oh," Roy salutes Graw. "Watcha want me to do?"
Graw looks as though he's nearing the point of exasperation. "There was an attack here, keep to protocol! We cannot falter due to improper behavior." He softens. "There is a chain of command, you know. But back to business. This man here is the ranking memeber of the local office, his name is Draco Cronnoc."
Roy looks a little apprehensive. You are used to this; men of your age are not supposed to be working the field. Roy himself only appears to be twenty, but it doesn't matter. "Yeah," Roy finally concedes. "Mr. Cronnoc, if you'll follow me," Roy says as he leads you to the left.
You leave Graw behind and walk behind Roy. Roy seems to be leading you to a small building near the wreckage that somehow managed to weather the blast. Roy clears his throat abruptly. "Mr. Cronnoc, if you don't mind me asking, what's particularly special about you? You've got some sort of quiet strength..."
You smile at the man. "I've got a knack for putting things together."
"Like Holmes?" Roy grins.
"No, not like Holmes," you stop smirking. "Holmes pulls things out of nowhere, in his books he takes one look at you and can tell what your mother ate three years before you were conceived. Some compare me to him, but I look for motives. I look for reasons behind killings. But I suspect you're talking about my physical shape. While I probably would not be able to take you in a fight, I can put a bullet in your eyes from a mile away. Learned that in Alsace, Stalingrad, Korea, and 'Nam. Just kidding, I've on'y been in Korea and Vietnam."
Roy looks at you oddly; you purposely gave him poor jokes to make you seem more like an average person. "Well, here we are Mr. Cronnoc," he declares, opening the door to the small building. "The survivors are inside."
You push through the door, revealing only five people. The five people who lived through the horros of now about an hour ago. They are currently being tended to by medics, who are wrapping their body in bandages.
"Hello," you begin stately. "My name is Draco Cronnoc, and I'll be asking you questions about the events of this morning. I understand you are all in a good deal of stress after the horror you witnessed, but I'd appreciate it if you bear with me. The faster we can get some pertinent clues, the better chance we have at catching the killer. Perhaps he's dead, perhaps he escaped. But we need to find him. Before I begin individual inquiries I'd like to know if any of you have anything you'd like to say."
You scan the five people, but they just continue to stare blankly at you. You breathe in slowly; you must be patient. These people just went through an awful lot and they weren't ready for it.
And so, you decide to plow through the drudge. Somewhere in this veil of shock is the truth. Actually, based on the responses to your preliminary questions, you already know which man will give you the information you desire. But you need to make him feel safer before you question him.
You begin to ask standard questions to a disheveled man in front of you, and then move on to the second person, a rather unattractive woman. Finally, you reach the man you want.
He has a terrified look on his face, but of course he would given the tragic events of the day. His brown hair appears that it normally would be wavy, but on this day it is tangled and littered with debris.
"Hello," you begin slowly. "As I said, I'm Draco Cronnoc and I live here in Richland Harbor. I'll be blunt for you: I read your facial expressions. I know you have something that can help me. What is your name?"
As you assumed, your directness scared the man. He recoiled into his seat, and something along the lines of a hiss came out from his lips.
"I understand if you're upset," your tone changes to a consoling one. "But we need to do this. Let's take small steps. What is your name?"
The man looks at you again. "Steven Brown," he says as he returns to averting your gaze.
You smile calmly. "Good, Mr. Brown. And what did you do at Rigor Industries?"
At the mention of the company name, Mr. Brown begins weeping silently. "I was...I was a security guard. Never missed a day. I loved Rigor. Gave me a job even though I was a dropout. Mr. Rigor gave my family hope. And now he's gone."
You put your hand on his shoulder. "If you want to help Rigor Industries, you can do it by helping me now. Did anyone come in who was unusual? A suspicious-looking tourist? A nervous employee? Someone wearing an overcoat? Someone asking a few too many questions?"
"Stop dancing," Mr. Brown cuts you off. "We both know what you're going to ask eventually: 'An Arab?' Yes, there was an Arab. He was a new employee, too."
Jackpot! This was it. Still, you feign surprise. "Really? Could you describe him, please? What he looked like, what he did."
Mr. Brown stares at the ceiling, apparently trying to hold back more tears. He wipes his face. "I don't know much about them. He was your typical Arab-American, I guess. No long white robes, just a formal suit and tie. He had a black beard, I think. Black hair and dark eyes, of course. Nothing remarkable. He was asking about where he was going to work."
"Oh? And where would he work?"
"He worked in Accounting, third floor. Worked with Lucas Esmodre."
"Is Lucas anyone important?" you ask, not pushing too hard.
"He asked about Luke. Asked if he was working with him."
You practically shout for joy. "And you hadn't mentioned Lucas before he did?"
"Nope," the man is still staring at the ceiling. "But I did get the man's name."
Wow. Christmas came early. And you like Christmas. "And that name would be..."
"Satish Hamed."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You arrive at the Nashville Police Department. Being the capital of Tennessee, Nashville has a database of every criminal in the state. Special stuff that you can't get anywhere else.
Now being the head honcho at Richland Harbor Police, you had appointed yourself to head this case. And thus, you bring yourself here to learn more about the attacker.
You push open the doors and go straight for the desk. "Hello, my name is with Draco Cronnoc, and I'm here representing the Richland Harbor Police Department." You push your badge over to her.
The woman squints at you. "Richland Harbor? That's where the attacks were, right?"
"Yes, in fact that's exactly why I'm here. I need everything I can get on a man named Satish Hamed. I can't be certain he's in this database because I'm not sure he's a former criminal, but it'd be a good idea to check."
"This way." The woman guides you through a door to a large computer. It looks very modern. You gaze at it apprehensively.
"I'm not very good with computers."
The woman scans you. Then she sighs. "Fine, I'll help you. My name is Susan Gray." She turns the computer on and clicks a few icons. "Anything else I should know?"
"Well, if there's anything in his database on a man named Lucas Esmodre, that'd be a big plus."
For a second the woman pauses. "Luke Esmodre...that rings a bell. Luke Esmodre...where have I heard that?" Suddenly her face alights. "Oh yes! He was one of the men mentioned in an occurence with another curator of records. I got interested and researched him. He's on this database as well, and if you want to see his profile you can. So, who're you going to look at? Hamed or Esmodre?"
You are taken aback. Lucas Esmodre committed a crime? Maybe this has something to do with the attacks! Maybe Esmodre left a terror group and they didn't want him to talk! Still, you did come here for Hamed...