Saving Lucas

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Julian slept the entire flight. The plane left at eight o'clock in the evening, giving him precious time to take a nap. He unboarded the plane and went to arrivals. He scanned the area for the police officer whom he had talked to on the phone before the flight. He didn't know what he looked like, nor the color of the shirt he was wearing. He forgot to ask him. He was just forty-two and already he was forgeting mundane things like an old man with Alzheimers. He proceeded outside the terminal and found a vending machine. He dug into his pocket for some loose change, and fed them to the machine. After a few seconds, the machine vomitted a paper cup of Pepsi. He checked his watch. It was nine o'clock.

"Agent Jimenez?" a man wearing a brown leather jacket asked him. Hmm, straight from the movies, Julian thought. His hair was disheveled, his eyebags weighing his face down like sagging breasts. His eyes were bloodshot. Standard issue police officer, Julian thought.

"Yes," he handed his hand out. The man shook his hand firmly.

"I'm officer Riviera," the man said. "But please call me David," he added as he pulled his car key out of his pocket. "Now, if you'll come with me, we have work to do."

****

The car ride was short. The police department was located just a few kilometers away from the airport. Julian stepped out of the car and followed the rather haggard folk, David. The office was expansive. Julian heard a few keyboards being tapped here and there, a few phones ringing, and papers being shuffled. On the far right, two men were arguing about who started the brawl first. An elderly officer--Julian assumed he was the one assigned to their case--stared at them with the word 'bored' stenciled across his forehead. They passed through a maze of desks and water dispensers and littered paper cups on the floor. A holding cell was at the farthest corner of the office. Two men slept on carboard beds. Uniformed men greeted them as they passed by. David strode with purpose, leading Julian to a private room at the end of the office. He closed the door and booted his computer.

"You want a drink, Agent?" David asked him, chewing on a cap of a pen. 

"No, thank you."

David sat across him, making a show of folding his hand on the desk. "Tell me what you know about the case."

Julian cleared his throat. "Earlier today, Agent Karl Esteves was shot across an abandoned warehouse in a secluded part of your city, within your jurisdiction--a gunshot wound to the neck," he started. "There were sachets and packets of drugs--specifically, cocaine--found in the basement. Four other people were found dead, one was assumed to be tortured right before the exchange of gunfire. Our men suspect that Agent Esteves was in pursuit of a well known drug operator from our city, Iloilo, a Mr. Jose Sanchez, who went missing a few years ago. Agent Esteves was working on his case for many years now, and well, maybe saw the oportunity. He needed to conduct the raid immediately and didn't bother to collaborate with you Manila guys. A witness stated that he was the one who informed Agent Esteves about the long-running drug operation occuring in that basement everyday, which is allegedly run by Mr Sanchez. However, he also told Agent Esteves that the security around that particular area was loose, and therefore Agent Esteves assumed that he can perform the said raid alone, miscalculating everything, leading to his death."

David nodded. "Now tell me, Agent," he said as he leaned back on his chair. "Do you buy that theory?"

"No." Julian said bluntly. "There are too many loopholes."

David nodded again. He reached in on one of the envelopes on his desk and produced a blown up photograph. He handed them to Julian.

"Those are the images forwarded by the medical examiner," David folded his hands on the desk again. "Those are photos of the people found in the crime scene," he paused. Then: "Do you recognize any of them?"