Security (WIP?)

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. A heavy fist. An oak door. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Same rythym. Securely patient in its activities, the fist continues. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. The booming is starting to irritate her. She shoves her chair backwards, standing up. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Her arms elongate, her fingers ache. They click a mouse button. She walks out of the room. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. She opens the front door.

"I was considering breaking in to see if you were ok."

She looks at him with disorientation.

"What were you doing?"

"Sending an e-mail to your brother."

He grins, an eerie contrast to his formidable build and bald head. "He can take care of himself. Let's go."

50 miles per hour through a residential zone, they drive to another house.

--

"Residential Zone 34. Break-in and armed robbery. One victim wounded. Suspects escaped through front door, victim pursued and was shot. Victim survived gunshot, victim reports suspects ran around the corner of Belthias and Kensington. Victim hears a car drive away very quickly." Gregory pushes back from his computer screen, turning to face his supervisor. "No speeding reports from any cameras. Issac,"

"Speed cameras were only installed in Zones 32-35 last week. Either they were are cautious, or they were prepared. This wasn't a random robbery. Too deep into SafeHouse Residential."

"Maybe that's why they chose this place? It's far enough within that we will suspect someone the victim knew, or someone nearby. There were eight foreign cars " foreign to SafeHouse Residential District " through the gates between 7 and 11 am this morning."

Issac ignored his guesswork, something inside of his head ticked into full gear. "Zone 34.. Greg, what's the address?"

"117 Belthias."

"Kuzma Ostrovosky. God dammit. Greg, get three special forces teams online at once. Did the victim say what had been stolen?"

"I'll check." Gregory turned his attention to the monitor once again, an onscreen a map showing 117 Belthias St with a dozen options on the security panel, right side of the screen. Gregory taps the sixth option, connecting him to the on-site investigation crew.

"This is Control. Has the victim identified what was stolen?"
The response filtered through his headphones "One personal computer."

Issac and Gregory look at each other. Mutual understanding passes over their features. Gregory's eyes widen, Issac's lips tighten.

Blocks, data points, faces and memories assemble an incomplete picture in Issac's mind. "I know who it is, Greg. And I'm sure they've already slipped out of there."