I lean back tapping my chin and consider why they might have
surgically altered their appearances. Are they criminals? Did they do it for
this job specifically? Or did they just not like how they looked? That third
one is very unlikely, but without more information, I can’t eliminate any
possibilities. Not yet.
I scan thru the video footage for the umpteenth time.
Several people managed to record the stranger in the grey suit, but no one got
a shot of his face, not even a blurry one. With nearly an hour of footage from
dozens of vantage points, that shouldn’t be possible. Someone was trying to hide
his identity and knew exactly how to do it. How do we always manage to attract
world-class adversaries? Can’t we go up against an ordinary criminal once in a
while? Where is a shoplifter when you need one?
Kyle brings me his pants. At first I wonder if they were
torn during the fight and he wants me to mend them. Then he points out a dark
red spot on the knee and places it under one of the many scanners. I see a
spiraling molecule appear on the screen.
“The police already ran the DNA but got no match.”
But the computer doesn’t stop at comparing the DNA. Oh, no.
Like Kyle himself, the computer is an overachiever. It maps the chromosomes and
analyses the sequences. That’s when I become very interested.
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