CHAPTER NINETEEN: Trigger

ALEX Brenton was still having one of the busiest times of his life.

He had infiltrated the WHO, preceded a murder case, had dinner with the director of the WHO and was now making his way to the precinct after Detective Laflamme had summoned him that Saturday afternoon.

"You called?" Brenton said, walking into the detective's office and becoming Dr. Avery Lincoln once again.

Laflamme, who had been drinking coffee, set down her cup once she saw Brenton and got up from her chair. Her desk was stacked with paperwork just like all the previous times Brenton had been there.

"Well, Doctor," she started, picking up a file that was at the very top of her paperwork and handed it to Brenton, "looks like your idea actually worked."

Brenton examined the file. It contained a detailed analysis report of the bullet that had killed Dr. Akshay Minajri.

"The forensics broke down the entire bullet, bit by bit, found quite a number of compounds but there was one thing that stood out, " Laflamme pointed at the file. "The bullet's mass of nineteen grams which according to the .500 S&W Magnum, could only be matched up to one type of bullet that would be used in a .50 caliber semi-rimmed revolver cartridge.

"The FTX Hornady," Brenton said, "It's been in use since two thousand and three."

"Additional forensic report from the autopsy of the scientist's body reveal the velocity at which the bullet was moving at to be just over two thousand feet per second."

"Definitely the FTX. I'm guessing you've traced its maker."

"Not quite," Laflamme moved to her desk and stooped before her computer where she typed in something, "but the type was ran through our system and we found a shipping record of it in Central Geneva."

Brenton approached the computer and a pinned location was displayed on a three-dimensional map.

"It's an old train station," Laflamme said, throwing back a stray strand of her red hair away from her face. "The only thing there is a packaging store. Fifteen minutes away."

"Not a bad place to start," Brenton added.

The next quarter of an hour found Brenton getting out of Laflamme's black Dodge Challenger SRT after she pulled over next to the train station.

The summer sun could still be felt and the place was rather deserted, with litter scattered all over the station across the train tracks where worn out platforms still stood.

"Your mayor's been sleeping on the job," Brenton remarked, loosening his tie at the collar.

"Every city has that one dark spot, Dr. Lincoln," Laflamme replied and knocked a tin can with the tip of her boot.

The can rolled into a darkened alleyway out of which a man emerged, carrying a pile of crumpled boxes. He stopped when he spotted the two people standing in front of him.

"Hi, do you own this place?" Laflamme asked.

The man resumed to carrying his boxes which he tossed into an already full dumpster. He then turned towards them.

"Who's asking?" the man responded. He had on a grey jumpsuit that seemed to be struggling with his size.

"It's about a package we ordered," Laflamme added.

"Package? What p-"

The man was cut short after suddenly being knocked in the back by a pile of boxes that were being carried by a woman.

"Dammit, Gary!" the woman spat, glaring at the man in the jumpsuit, "how long does it take to dump a bunch of empty boxes?"

The monologue went on, with the woman totally ignoring the two people in front of her until she had made Gary get rid of all the boxes and told him to go back inside.

Brenton cleared his throat which finally got the woman's attention. She was fairly tall, almost the same height as Laflamme but with darker skin that must have gotten a little too much melanin in it from the sun. Her blond hair had been split in two: cornrows on the left temple while thick golden hair flowed over her right temple, partly covering her right eye, both of which were blue.

"What do you want?" she asked, stepping closer towards Brenton and Laflamme, her white t-shirt and denim jeans being highlighted in the afternoon sun.

"You look like you own the place," Laflamme said.

"Aye, that's right," the woman regarded the detective, crossing her arms which were rather toned. "What do you want?"

"What kind of packaging do you do here?"

The woman narrowed her eyes into slits, shifting from Laflamme to Brenton and let out a sigh. "Ah, you're cops ain't ya?"

"What makes you say that?" Brenton countered.

"Really?" the woman snorted, scrutinizing Brenton's attire who was just realizing for the first time how he stood out from the rest; in his jet-black suit while Laflamme was in casual attire of a black leather jacket, jeans and boots.

"Detective Laflamme," Laflamme introduced herself, flicking out her badge, "this is my consultant, Dr. Lincoln."

"Okay, look here guys," the woman went on, "I've got meself identification, license and all that shit. Me work here be legal!"

"Alright, relax," Laflamme motioned, "we just want to find out what you know about FTX Hornady.

The woman's eyes widened a bit and Laflamme was quick to notice this.

"Hey, I only delivered that kind of package once."

"So you do know where it is," came Brenton.

"That's some pretty expensive stuff that is," the woman said, "and you expect me to just tell you where it is?"

"You've already violated several laws despite having a license, ma'am."

"Baah! Alright!" the woman spat, "me name's Lucy. Hate it when people use that word! Look, all of my deliveries are always anonymous. A pay-first policy, don't care who you are but this one delivery was a little odd I might say."

"Odd?" Laflamme questioned.

"This one client called in for a big order. Had me exhaust nearly all my resources to get him that Smith and Wesson Magnum shit!" Lucy spat, "Nasty arms dealer!"

"Did you get their name, address or anything that can help us?"

"Well. . ." Lucy uncrossed her arms, grinning at Brenton and Laflamme, "I ain't givin' ya that information just like that now, am I?"

"You know she will just arrest you, right?" Brenton added.

"Yap, but then you'll never find this arms dealer."

Brenton clenched his jaw, thinking how he could easily make this woman talk by just using sodium pentothal but then he was just Dr. Avery Lincoln at the moment and was obliged to follow Laflamme's authority. Being in this covert business could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

"How much?" Laflamme fished out a pen and piece of paper.

"Fifty K," Lucy said, her eyes glinting.

"You should receive the cheque soon-"

"Dollars!" Lucy added, still grinning.

"Sure. So who is this arms dealer?" Laflamme asked, trying to hide the annoyance in her tone as Lucy scribbled down the details of how the money would be sent.

"He don't surface much but I always get somethin' 'bout him now and then, 'specially when weapons are involved. Not just any weapons-"

"The kind that we're looking for?" spoke Brenton.

"Aye and I was shocked when someone ordered for Magnum. Shit is like everywhere! Anyways, there's this name that always shows up when these weapons are in play. . ." Lucy paused for effect, "Trigger."

"What?" Laflamme perked up.

"You've heard of that name?" Brenton turned to face her.

"That's just some modern myth. Kind of like an urban legend for criminals. You're telling me he actually exists?"

" 'Course he do!" Lucy chuckled, "use a moniker so long that people take you for granted."

"Allowing you to operate in plain sight," Brenton remarked.

"Can you get us to him?" Laflamme pressed.

"You can't get to him," Lucy responded, "he the one who get to ya and I can help ya with that!"

"Good, so let's get going," Brenton was saying before Lucy gave him that look from earlier again. "What?"

"I was able to make out you was cops in seconds. Trigger won't even blink."

Brenton looked down at his attire and cussed silently. He was a "criminal scientific consultant". What else could he really wear?

Some minutes and a full wardrobe change later, Brenton and Laflamme were standing by a deserted bus stop.

"Casual looks too good on you, Doctor," Laflamme was saying as she regarded Brenton in his plain cotton jacket and black jeans, "makes me wonder why you even bother with the suits."

"Easy for you to say, " Brenton shook his head, "you don't have to be in uniform. How long do we have to stand here again?"

"Not so long now," Laflamme said, holding onto a package that Lucy had given them after making quite a number of calls before leaving them and telling them to wait.

A black van pulled up along the road before stopping where Brenton and Laflamme were.

"Trigger," Laflamme simply uttered after the van's door slid open.

As per the textbook, both Brenton and Laflamme knew what would happen next. At least they were prepared for it after two dark burlap sacks were thrust over their heads, followed by frisking, out of which no weapons were found on either of them, apart from the ones that were in the package-the ones that they were to sell to Trigger.

The drive was not that long. The burlap sacks were removed and Brenton and Laflamme were out of the van and being walked into a furniture warehouse.

"Wait here," one of the two bouncers escorting them said before he disappeared into a small office at the other end of the warehouse, away from the furniture.

"He'll see you now," the bouncer reappeared, shoving the package that the two had come with into Brenton's hands.

Briefly exchanging glances, Brenton and Laflamme walked into the office, leaving the bouncers outside.

Once inside, the place was not an office at all. It was more like a lounge, illuminated with blue glowing neon lights and had an overwhelming smell that was a mixture of something like vanilla and heroin.

Hip hop music was playing from a stereo that was like the only thing that one could make out in the room. The rest of it was stacked with boxes, probably filled with the most illegal and rarest of weapons.

Then there was a woman lying naked on a sofa, her back facing upwards as a man decorated it with tattoos.

"Trigger?" Laflamme prompted while Brenton tried to ignore the thick helm on the man's face, resembling the "elephant", a mask that Brenton vividly recalled encountering on a tour in Russia when he had been on a mission to rescue American POWs.

The man with the elephant helm raised a finger, gesturing them to wait a second as he applied the finishing touches to the tattoo on the woman's back.

He tapped on the woman's shoulder, queuing for her to get up as he admired the tattoo. He even made her turn her back to Brenton and Laflamme, making them have a look at the face of a large snarling leopard that had a snake coiling around its head and disappeared just beyond the woman's left shoulder.

"How'd I do?" the man spoke, barely audible from the helm.

Both Brenton and Laflamme gave him congratulatory grins.

"Alright baby," the man said to the naked woman, "go let that cool off."

Wrapping a velvet gown over herself, the woman gave her tattooist a kiss on his helm, flashed her eyes at Brenton then walked towards the door and exited the room.

The man then took off his helm and a ton of white smoke flew out from it, apparently answering the question as to where the source of the vanilla-scented narcotics was coming from.

He was as tall as Brenton but of slim built, dark skinned, thick dreadlocked hair and a tiny tattoo just below his right eye whose symbol Brenton noticed was that of the 'bio-hazard'. His exposed arms were inked all over with all kinds of tattoos.

"So you two are the ones who've been looking for me," his accent suggested he was American. "I've already seen your package."

Brenton opened it, revealing what appeared to be two bulb-shaped metallic tubes that had a distinct perpetual glowing coming from them.

"Those are pulse grenades," the man said, setting down his helm and clearing off the heroin smoke from his face. "Some pretty deadly stuff, no doubt but I'm afraid I'm already stocked up with that."

"So you're not going to make a purchase?" Laflamme asked.

"What? No, " the man laughed, "I'm surprised you even found me but how you got the grenades in the first place is the bigger question here which leads me to believe you're not even here to sell me any weapons, right?"

Laflamme briefly looked at Brenton then back at the man. "You're Trigger, aren't you?"

"That's what everybody calls me."

"You're right," Brenton said, saving Laflamme the risk of stalling too long and giving away their cover, "we're not here to sell you anything. On the contrary. We're here to buy a specific weapon from you. . .a bullet."

"Oh yeah," Trigger grinned, "what kind?"

Brenton and Laflamme looked at each other again before Laflamme added, "you know what we want."

Trigger's smile faltered but only for a fraction of a second. He carefully eyed the two people before him then a huge grin lit up his face, revealing a gold tooth.

"I think I like you guys," he started, "using some decoy weapons to get yourself a front row seat with Trigger himself so you can get the good stuff. I dig that!"

The arms dealer then quickly sprang up from the table he was leaning against. "Lemme get you the stuff."

With that, Trigger disappeared into a backroom, his figure being engulfed in the darkness beyond the dim-lit room.

"Stay sharp, Doctor," Laflamme whispered to Brenton, shifting her eyes to the package with the pulse grenades as if there were something else more important in there.

Trigger had been gone a while and Brenton and Laflamme were already thinking about following him when the door behind them suddenly flew open and before any of them could make a move, the two bouncers had already pinned their arms to their backs, making Brenton drop the package with the grenades.

A kind of a hysterical laughter followed as Trigger reappeared from the backroom, holding a cellphone in one hand.

"I say this again. I really like you guys or should I say. . .cops. You didn't really think I wasn't gonna found out. I sell and buy illegal weapons, of course I have to make sure I know everything about all my clients, which is how one very loyal client informed me that there's not one but two pigs in my crib right now."

"Lucy!" Brenton spat.

"She's lovely, isn't she?" Trigger was in the middle of laughter before his mood instantly changed, hardening into the criminal that he was and was no longer holding a phone but a gun.

"You know I can't let you go now," he said, aiming the gun at the two.

"You're not gonna get away with this!" Laflamme said haughtily.

"Are you sure about that?" Trigger mocked, "I'm the one with the gun here."

"Who did you sell the bullet to?" Laflamme demanded.

"The same person that killed that scientist guy."

"Who was it? You're going to kill us. You might as well just tell us because if you don't you're going to be in so much trouble. . . and I'm running out of things to say, Dr. Lincoln!"

It took Trigger several seconds to realize what the witty detective had been doing, having been distracted as Brenton finally managed to get the tip of his foot under one of the pulse grenades which he flicked, sending the grenade sailing in the air.

Trigger ducked, creating confusion. The grenade hit the ground closer next to the backroom and went off, unleashing a concussive pulse wave that sent everyone in the room to the ground.

"Fuck!" Trigger cursed, trying to find his gun.

Laflamme was already quick on her feet, getting up before her bouncer and striking him squarely in the chin with the heel of her boot. The bouncer flew back, his head crashing into the wall.

Unable to locate his gun, Trigger made for the door, knocking into Laflamme and shoving her aside.

Brenton's bouncer had received the full hit of the pulse wave, acting as a shock absorber for Brenton once they hit the ground. He was up and running after Trigger.

Trigger dashed across the warehouse, throwing furniture in Brenton's way but Brenton was too fast for that, faster than the arms dealer. He hopped onto a sofa and leaped into the air.

Trigger looked back and did not see his chaser anymore, only to feel the full weight of another man crushing down on him as Brenton threw himself at him, sending them both tumbling into piles of bubble wrap and wood.

There was a brief tussle, with Trigger trying to break free from Brenton's strong grip who had his arms wrapped around his neck, pinning him to the ground.

It almost looked like Trigger was slipping but not before Brenton struck him hard across the face with his elbow, after which Laflamme appeared, having retrieved her gun which she had cleverly hidden inside the package with the grenades.

"That's enough!" Laflamme commanded, pointing the gun at the arms dealer. She noticed something along Brenton's left arm but then Brenton quickly covered it by sliding down the sleeve of his jacket.

All that remained was a little more head bashing and Trigger knew he was cornered. He yielded and told them what he knew.

"My clients make their orders online but the bullet was bought in-person."

"Who was the buyer?" Laflamme asked Trigger while Brenton restrained him, having already cuffed him.

Trigger showed them to a computer. "They didn't exactly identify themselves, had a mask on and everything but they used a card to make the purchase."

"Show us the transaction records, now!" Laflamme ordered.

"Oh, you guys dunno how much trouble you're in right now," Trigger muttered, working on the computer. "There."

It took them a minute to fathom what they had just seen on the monitor, though it only confirmed Brenton's long overdue suspicions. He just did not expect to find out this way.

Right there on the screen, the record showed that the purchase of the FTX Hornady bullet had been made with a Swiss Bank account under the alias:

Shakir, Darius Faruq

Director, WHO.