freeze-framed video image on the screen. The frozen video frame was blurred, but clear enough to reveal Arthur’s shield emblazoned with the same symbol.
“He’s our tagger, Gib.”
Startled, Gibson leaned forward for a closer look, snatching the picture from Ryan and examining it against the monitor. “Well, I’ll be damned! How the hell’d you make that connection?”
Ryan took back the paper and set it down next to some Internet printouts. These printouts showed various shields emblazoned with heraldic symbols of one kind or another. “Did a little Internet search. I remembered from college about knights and how they always had a crest on their shields. Shit, I was really into that stuff back then when I was young and stupid. You know, knight on a horse riding into South Central and cleaning it up for all the good people?”
Gibson nodded, loosening his dark blue tie, and rolling up another chair to sit beside his partner. “Yeah, I know the feeling. So what do you suppose this guy is up to? He’s gotta know he’ll have every gangbanger in the city gunning for him if he keeps putting that up on their turf.”
“All forty-one thousand?” Ryan asked with a crooked smile, which only accentuated the deep frown lines on his craggy face.
“You know what I mean,” Gibson replied with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, I know,” said Ryan. “Anything on that dagger?”
Gibson picked up the file folder and flipped it open. Within were various photos of the knife Arthur had used against the rookie cop. “Pretty weird, Ry. The lab did all the usual tests.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So they think it’s from England,” Gibson continued in that tone of voice game show hosts use when they’re about to reveal what’s behind door number one.
“So what’s the punch line?”
“Near as they can tell without carbon dating, England of the fifth or sixth century, or thereabouts.”
Ryan dropped forward in his chair. “Don’t bullshit me, Gib! I’m so not in the mood.”
Gibson leaned forward, his tired features dead serious, and handed Ryan the report. “I’m not. It’s all in here.” He tapped the report with one index finger.
Ryan gazed at the report a moment, and then looked his partner in the eye. “I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on, but I think you and I have an all-nighter to pull with Mr. Internet. We need to find out everything there is to know about King Arthur.”
Gibson’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a lot of information, Ry.”
Ryan tossed the report onto his desk and pointed at the next desk. “And there’s an awful lot of cyberspace right there on your computer, partner. Let’s get cracking.”
With a heavy sigh, Gibson removed his dark blue sport coat and hung it carefully on the back of his swivel chair. As he further loosened his tie and began rolling up his sleeves, he noted that Ryan was already on his desktop searching for websites. Man, he hated when Ryan got like this. Sighing again, he rolled the chair over to his own immaculately organized desk and set to work.
T HEepisode with Reyna had excited the boys more than usual. Some of the older ones, like Enrique and Luis, could talk of nothing else but “who she’s gonna like better, me or your fool ass?” while the youngsters were all excited that Lance had bested her. “We don’t need no girl anyways” was a common refrain amongst them.
It had taken Arthur and Lance much longer than usual to settle the in-house sleepers for the night. Speculation ran in whispers among the supposedly sleeping boys about what the morrow would bring, and would she be back, and would she want to join, and how did she learn to shoot like that? Finally, silence punctuated by the ever-present dripping of water and the occasional echoing whinny from Llamrei wafting in from her tunnel, settled over the main hall.
Arthur and Lance sat side by side on the platform in front of the king’s throne, legs outstretched before them,
“He’s our tagger, Gib.”
Startled, Gibson leaned forward for a closer look, snatching the picture from Ryan and examining it against the monitor. “Well, I’ll be damned! How the hell’d you make that connection?”
Ryan took back the paper and set it down next to some Internet printouts. These printouts showed various shields emblazoned with heraldic symbols of one kind or another. “Did a little Internet search. I remembered from college about knights and how they always had a crest on their shields. Shit, I was really into that stuff back then when I was young and stupid. You know, knight on a horse riding into South Central and cleaning it up for all the good people?”
Gibson nodded, loosening his dark blue tie, and rolling up another chair to sit beside his partner. “Yeah, I know the feeling. So what do you suppose this guy is up to? He’s gotta know he’ll have every gangbanger in the city gunning for him if he keeps putting that up on their turf.”
“All forty-one thousand?” Ryan asked with a crooked smile, which only accentuated the deep frown lines on his craggy face.
“You know what I mean,” Gibson replied with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, I know,” said Ryan. “Anything on that dagger?”
Gibson picked up the file folder and flipped it open. Within were various photos of the knife Arthur had used against the rookie cop. “Pretty weird, Ry. The lab did all the usual tests.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So they think it’s from England,” Gibson continued in that tone of voice game show hosts use when they’re about to reveal what’s behind door number one.
“So what’s the punch line?”
“Near as they can tell without carbon dating, England of the fifth or sixth century, or thereabouts.”
Ryan dropped forward in his chair. “Don’t bullshit me, Gib! I’m so not in the mood.”
Gibson leaned forward, his tired features dead serious, and handed Ryan the report. “I’m not. It’s all in here.” He tapped the report with one index finger.
Ryan gazed at the report a moment, and then looked his partner in the eye. “I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on, but I think you and I have an all-nighter to pull with Mr. Internet. We need to find out everything there is to know about King Arthur.”
Gibson’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a lot of information, Ry.”
Ryan tossed the report onto his desk and pointed at the next desk. “And there’s an awful lot of cyberspace right there on your computer, partner. Let’s get cracking.”
With a heavy sigh, Gibson removed his dark blue sport coat and hung it carefully on the back of his swivel chair. As he further loosened his tie and began rolling up his sleeves, he noted that Ryan was already on his desktop searching for websites. Man, he hated when Ryan got like this. Sighing again, he rolled the chair over to his own immaculately organized desk and set to work.
T HEepisode with Reyna had excited the boys more than usual. Some of the older ones, like Enrique and Luis, could talk of nothing else but “who she’s gonna like better, me or your fool ass?” while the youngsters were all excited that Lance had bested her. “We don’t need no girl anyways” was a common refrain amongst them.
It had taken Arthur and Lance much longer than usual to settle the in-house sleepers for the night. Speculation ran in whispers among the supposedly sleeping boys about what the morrow would bring, and would she be back, and would she want to join, and how did she learn to shoot like that? Finally, silence punctuated by the ever-present dripping of water and the occasional echoing whinny from Llamrei wafting in from her tunnel, settled over the main hall.
Arthur and Lance sat side by side on the platform in front of the king’s throne, legs outstretched before them,
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