The Lengths That I Would Go To

[abrightboy]

The killer was moving around the country. Malcolm Bright could see the pattern, but he wasn't working for the FBI these days and they weren't exactly taking his calls. Short sighted of them, but they did fire him on suspicion of being crazy. The NYPD's jurisdiction was New York. With the killer beyond its borders, they handed it upwards and left it at that.

Let it go, Bright, had been Gil's sage advice. You can't catch every killer in America single-handedly.

Challenge accepted, some part of him retorted, though he'd only nodded mutely and forced a smile. Gil knew he hadn't simply let it go, but he wasn't going to have him followed to stop him doing anything stupid, either. He didn't have the will or the resources to keep tabs on Malcolm Bright 24/7 and Malcolm Bright knew it.

His mother, on the other hand, had extensive resources, so he simply didn't tell her he was leaving town. He did arrange for Ainsley to feed his bird, so the truth would come out eventually, but he'd be several states away by then.

He rode the bus. There was something oddly comforting about the anonymity of being in a crowd of strangers who had no interest in him whatsoever. He stared out the window and watched the country go by. When he stepped off the Greyhound in Lexington, Kentucky, he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in, then headed straight to the US Marshals office. There was no point in trying to talk to the FBI. If he was going to stop a killer from killing again, he needed someone in law enforcement to listen to him. The pattern suggested the next murder would happen in one of the rural communities around Lexington and it would be precipitated by a young woman's disappearance. He needed law enforcement with local knowledge, specifically.

He wandered into the Marshals' offices in a tidy three piece suit, charcoal grey with a burgundy tie perfectly knotted at his collar. He got a few suspicious sidelong glances but nobody asked if they could help him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, hello? I'm wondering if there's anyone here I can talk to about murder." He held up his hands. "Stopping murder, specifically, not... like... smalltalk."

Comments

[abrightboy]

When they walked into the 16th precinct, Malcolm let the way to the conference room where they tended to meet about cases. Art was, indeed, already there. So were Gil, JT and Dani.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Gil said as they walked in the door. "Who called you?"

"Sometimes you don't need to call me. Sometimes I just show up when I'm needed, like... like..."

"Mary Poppins?" JT provided, deadpan.

Malcolm pointed at him. "Sure! If that works as a metaphor!" He paced to the front of the room. "Gil, Raylan. Raylan... everybody. So. The perp does dirty work for the Dixie mafia, apparently, but it's his personal proclivities that have brought the Marshal's service to New York. He's a classi..." His voice trailed off as he turned to the board and noticed something. "This isn't the right crime," he observed.

"No," Gil allowed. "Until the Marshal's service showed up, we were working on something else."

Malcolm pointed to one of the pictures and turned around. "Is this person tied to railway tracks?"

"Subway tracks," Dani supplied.

"I can't believe you didn't call me for this." He was almost insulted.

"It was a pretty cut and dry revenge killing," JT told him.

"Cut and dry," Malcolm scoffed, turning to peer at the picture again in distraction. "This is performance art..."

[tinstar]

Along with Art, Tim and Rachel were next to him, looking suitably amused at Malcolm's entrance - all three lifting their eyebrows in surprise, almost in unison, at the lack of cowboy hat on Raylan's head. The silent rebukes were taken with an amused look as he joined their side.

They all stood like bumps on a log as they watched the short exchange and Art gave Raylan another pointed look. A conversation in looks alone. Raylan shrugged with his own facial response and turned an amused look onto the other officers.

"Nothing that we can stand up against, with that kinda review," he supplied, non-helpfully. "If y'all are busy, we can just--" Art stopped him with a few fingers against his arm as he stepped up to shut Raylan's smart mouth up.

"No, now, I know you guys are busy up here. Lots goes on; I was stationed up here when I was younger, but-" Art ungracefully hefted his pants a little. "We're just looking for a little direction here folks. Now we're happy to go about like bulls in your china shop, but we are tryin' to mind our manners. You got a detective or something, someone that's familiar with the old bosses that used to run the families, maybe?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm whipped around, both hands held out, spread wide, distracted from his distraction. Everyone stop everything, his hands said.

"No, no, no. Gil, this man is here to kill again," he said, nodding so Gil could appreciate the gravity. "Children. Sexual and physical torture. They..." he pointed over at the marshals, "are looking for crime bosses because of the perpetrator's ties to the mafia, but these kills.... these are his hobby, not his job."

"We're just wrapping this case," Gil said, gesturing to the board. "When you say old bosses," he asked, turning his attention to the marshals, "how 'old' do you mean? How far back?"

Malcolm watched carefully, looking visually relieved when Gil showed an interest in the case.

[tinstar]

"The mafia is his family but Sol's only going to protect him for so long. The Family's been around for a few generations but our guy is tight with the head now," Art pointed out. "While we would not say no to catching the head as well as the body of the snake, considering what Quarles has done, we're happy to take the body in this case."

Raylan piped up again, utterly unhelpful in his subtle edge of sarcasm. "Just looking to flush out a rat, take him home to justice. Alls we need is a guide. It'll save us both time, and a few innocent lives. This guy's been stressed out for about 18 or more months - I don't think he's got much running left in him."

Tim and Rachel stayed quiet, watching the faces with sharp eyes, gauging everyone and how this might go down. They were the more mindful of the group, if Raylan was honest. Art was a little blind when the name Sol was mentioned, to say nothing of the family name and everyone in his office knew it.

"With a little pressure and a little luck, we'll be outta your hair inside a few days," Raylan half promised, knowing that it might not be the case.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm was watching Art, because something was off there.

Sol. Art was the one who brought him up, specifically.

"Do you really need someone familiar with the old bosses? You seem pretty familiar," Malcolm pointed out. Something in Art's expression must have shifted, if only faintly. "You are familiar. It's not just work; it's personal," he surmised, still watching the Marshal's face with a studious scrutiny.

[tinstar]

"I-" Art started, accent drawling it out to something more phonetically inline with 'iaaa' as his greyed eyebrows rose, and as the only hair on his face right now, being bald despite the ballcap on, was highly indicative to how right Malcolm was,"- have been chasing this particular clan of assholes for 25 years; hell yes it's personal." Sensing he was starting to reach out of his own bounds, Art took a deep breath, chin tucking in slightly as he tried to return himself to professionalism.

"What I need is someone familiar with the ground today. Like any other craft, assholism is generationally taught and each one does it differently. I haven't been in New York since the 60's, shit," he swore with a glance at his team, who were trying their best to not have noticed his outburst.

"Landscapes change," Raylan supplied, amusement tucked into the folds of his forehead as he gestured. "Who knows that better than locals."

[abrightboy]

"Then this is the team you're looking for," Gil said, as he stepped to the front of the room. He squeezed Malcolm's shoulder, seeming to break the spell by diverting his gaze from Art to himself. Malcolm nodded in agreement with him as he let go of the profiler's shoulder.

"Dani," Gil said, "look into who's wielding the bulk of power in Sol's family these days. JT, put out a BOLO on Quarles." He turned to the Marshals. "If you want to go talk to Sol in the meantime, take Bright with you. I'll call when we find out more about the family's dynamics or we get a location on Quarles."

Good transition into next 'scene'?

[tinstar]

Art nodded and focused on Malcolm as Dani and JT filed out with their orders. "He'll already know we're in town, I'm sure. If he's in public, he's going to be well protected, but that doesn't mean he won't talk. There's a restaurant in Manhattan that he used to use as a front. How do you feel about Italian?"

Indeed!

[abrightboy]

"I'm fine with it, as long as I don't have to eat it," Malcolm quipped.



They arrived at the restaurant just after the lunch crowd had gone and it was empty, except for one table in the far corner. The men that were lingering a few steps inside the door, gestured for the interlopers to open their jackets. Malcolm looked at them curiously.

[tinstar]

"I don't think we're going for the food," Raylan quipped as he passed Malcolm on the way out.

They weren't. Rolling up in two black SUVs, they filed out and into the restaurant. Art had already told them to let him do the talking and not to do anything stupid. Raylan was picked out specifically for that one with a sharp look in the review. Raylan only smirked and raised a hand, silently promising to be on some kind of behavior.

Three bulky men hung around one older man sitting alone at a table and they looked like the type to carry, all turning to look at the group as they came in. Tim stayed by the door, leaving Rachel to linger behind the rest of the men, carefully eyeing the situation.

"Sol Dulamote," Art greeted. "I see that taxpayer dollars were successfully wasted on getting you on those racketeering charges. You're looking well."

Sol chuckled, eyes staying locked up on Art for a long second as he wiped his mouth, only looking away to set down his napkin. "They were not wasted, Marshal-"

"Chief Mashal," Art corrected.

"-they were spent in the name of justice. I do hope you and your .." Raylan and Malcolm were given a judgemental, condescending look over. "Friends," he chose the word carefully as he smiled back up at Art. "Aren't looking to spend more for harassment, hmm?

"Well," Art started, pulling out a chair and sitting down despite the sudden tension of the thugs, eased only by the slight lift of Sol's fingers. There was a sense of respect, of sorts, between the men for whatever they'd done to each other. "It's only harassment if you're not doing something, and you're always moving something so I'm confident it will be money well spent. But unfortunately for my day, we are not here for you. We're here for Robert Quarles."

Sol shrugged with his face, shoulders barely lifting. "I haven't seen him since we kicked him out for skimming off the top."

Art gave him an unimpressed look. "Uh-huh and I'm Mother Theresa. I know you keep tabs on your boys. We're just askin' for a heads up. Otherwise we're going to start turning over your shops like bulls."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm held up his hands.

"Gentlemen, I don't think there's a need for all this posturing, do you? I mean, I guess we could turn over his 'shops' like 'bulls'," he conceded, "But I expect Mr Dulamote would only double down on his refusal to cooperate and then we'd end up in an endless spiral of oneupmanship that will end with more dead kids," he said bluntly. He looked at Art. "You said yourself, these organizations are families." He looked at Sol. "And you know as well as I do that when a member of your family does something unconscionable, the only choice you have is in how complicit you are. You're not in the business of raping children to death," he pointed out reasonably. "And the Marshals aren't interested in the business you are in. So maybe our goals can align here. You know this can't be allowed to stand."

[tinstar]

At the first word, both of the older men were looking up at Malcolm like he'd grown a third head and it was only because of how quickly and well he was speaking that he was allowed to continue to do so without interruption. It was the Dead Kids point that sealed the deal, Sol looking suitably disapproving and uncomfortable with the bluntness of Malcolm's approach.

"Hey look, we mighta raised him, but he ain't blood," Sol shot back, the only real defense that he had. "Not anymore."

"You know he still uses the name and word don't travel that fast, Sol," Art admonished with a 'You should know better' kinda tone. "It doesn't hurt that the little prick could talk Eskimos into buying ice cubes. We already know he's called. Just point us in the right direction. No way he comes back to town and doesn't tell Uncle Sol what he needs."

Sol looked between the three men, eyeing the only one who hadn't said anything yet before looking back at Art with a heavy, put out sigh.

"Two days ago. I told him I wasn't givin' him any money or any help. Found one of my guys dead over in Jersey this mornin'. I know it was him, that little ungrateful shit."

Raylan spoke up, head tilted slightly into the conversation. "What's in Jersey that he's gonna be able to use, aside from the car he just lifted off ya?"

Sol looked over at Raylan, just as unimpressed with him as he had been with Malcolm. "Few safe houses that we still use that he knows of. They're empty right now. Might find him there."

[abrightboy]

"What does he get at a safe house, besides shelter?" he asked. "It would be a gamble, killing your man and then staying in a house you own. Is there money stashed there? A phone? If he hit all of them, how much cash did he come away with?"

[tinstar]

"Ain't those kind of safe houses," Sol supplied darkly. "We don't shit where we sleep, if you know what I mean. And if he's holed up, he's loaded down. That's the one thing we keep there. A spare gun in each place. He might still have a contact or two. Not much else."

Art shifted. "Can we get those addresses on a list?" The question was asked with the production of a notepad and a pen that were slid across the table.

Raylan looked back at Rachel and Tim, giving them a small nod that sent them just as non disruptively out the door as they'd come in, though Tim hung around the entrance, watching them all through the glass. Raylan moved over to Malcolm's side, touching his elbow with two fingers to pull him back from the situation.

"Sol and the Dixie Mafia have been trading guns for coke and weed for more than a few decades. I'd bet money that whatever contacts Quarles has in Jersey will end up relating to someone from Memphis. We're gonna have to go out there, but this puts this outside of NYPD unless we can draw him back across the bridge."

Raylan turned around to face the elder men. "The number he used to call you too. Your ex-guy's number. Add that on."

[abrightboy]

"Well, technically I don't work for the NYPD," Malcolm told him. "I'm a self-employed consultant. So I guess I'm consulting for you now." He looked over at Sol. "Does he have any friends in New York or New Jersey that you know of that aren't connected to the family? I mean, if his behaviour concerned you, you probably kept something of an eye on him, right?"

[tinstar]

"Yeah, but the resources do." It was the downside to being a marshal - they could act as law but that didn't mean all Law worked together.

Sol looked up. "I know one guy and I can't promise they still talk. That's the best I got, hot shot." Needless to say, they were already pushing their luck on Malcolm's words and Malcolm was only asking for more. "Don't let me get in the way of you doing the work for yourself," he continued, pushing the pad towards Art.

"Now, unless any of you gentlemen are wanting some of Nora's glorious lasagna.." It was time for them to go.

[abrightboy]

"Thank you for your cooperation," Malcolm told him, giving him a wave before letting Raylan herd him out of the restaurant.

"Did he write down the name of the friend?" Malcolm asked Art as they reached the car. "If his family turned him away, he might have turned to them. He's going to be desperate at this point; his meticulously constructed worlds are all crumbling. He needs any ally he can muster. We should talk to this person right away."

[tinstar]

Even without his hat, Raylan couldn't help but tip his baseball cap at Sol before following Art out of the restaurant. No way in hell Art or Malcolm was going to pull up the rear, they were the 'precious cargo' of the unit.

He breathed easier once they were outside, sidling up to the two, listening to Malcolm's point and Art's answer.

"Yeah." A name was rattled off, old eyes coming up to Malcolm and expecting no recognition. "Think your boys at the office could get us something on the name? A place to add to our list?"

[abrightboy]

"Yeah, I'll text it to Dani," Malcolm told him, pulling out his phone as he got in the car. "She'll get us a location if he's known to police, which - let's face it - given the company he tends to keep, it's likely." He looked around at them. "Are we headed to Jersey in the meantime?"

[tinstar]

Raylan scoffed as he slid in next to Art in the drivers seat, car prestarted by Rachel before she slid into Tim's car.

"'Course. Crime doesn't sleep and we barely do," he said as Art keyed in the first address. It was going to be a 45 minute drive at least, with traffic. Malcolm would have to help.

"So," Art started, unable in the southern way to deal with silence. "Raylan tells me you're from around here."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm considered him a moment.

"Yeah. Born and raised. Then I lived in DC for... about ten years. Then I moved back here." He leaned forward. "How long did you live here?" he asked with real interest.

[tinstar]

Art scoffed. "Like I'd live here." His eyes drifted guiltily out the window. "I stayed in the Village for 8 months on assignment up here."

Raylan couldn't help but chuckle, earning a sharp look from Art before he glanced back at Malcolm. "It was hell."

"Oh c'mon Art - you were in the center of a cultural revolution of cocaine in the 80's," Raylan protested. Art didn't appreciate the comment, and half turned back to look at Malcolm to explain himself. "Nice people but too many and no porches or sweet tea to be found."

[abrightboy]

"They're not all nice people," Malcolm admitted easily. "You lived in the Village in the 80's? Were you undercover? It wasn't just drugs," he surmised, his eyes fixed on Art's profile. "It was the mafia. They ran the trade like they ran everything else before he gangs moved in. But it was more personal than that. Why was it personal?"

[tinstar]

"Indicative of the whole of New York," Raylan quipped with a huff, having already had an experience or two in the short time he'd been here. But Malcolm's question was an interesting one and he turned curious eyes towards his boss.

Art hrumped and shifted uncomfortably. "I had a lot riding on it." That wasn't all, but that was all he was willing to share. Art caught the faint questionable lift of Raylan's eyebrow before continuing, "Oh shut up and drive." Art glanced back at Malcolm. "You always ask this many questions?"

Raylan scoffed a laugh. "Yes."

[abrightboy]

Since Raylan had answered the question, Malcolm continued with his own.

"You had to prove something," Malcolm deduced. "And you don't want to talk about it. Does that have something to do with how Sol eluded you?"