Chapter 8
Previous Chapters
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Enemy, territory, hunt, safety, home.
Detective Jones knew he was missing something. He just finished going through every single piece of paper confiscated at the home of Mr. Arthur Lewis. Utility bills, magazine subscriptions, one wedding invitation, credit card bills, bank notes, driver’s license renewal form. There was a large box of what seemed to be some scientific research notes and results. There was nothing out of the ordinary. One more pass and he knew what he was looking for. A VIP invitation for some computer hacker convention was stuck to a magazine subscription. The convention started the day before at the Massachusetts Convention Center. Arthur Lewis was the keynote speaker; his speech was planned for tonight. Detective Bradley Jones had no idea who would make the speech in his stead, but he knew that that person would be a good lead for this investigation.
The autopsy report was on his desk. Jones was thinking about the results. There were no surprises there. Or were there? Arthur Lewis died of massive head injury followed by brain hemorrhage. It was a quick, yet messy way to die. The entry wound was small, the exit wound large. In fact, it left quite an amount of grey matter on the carpet and the wall behind. The killer shot him once. No cartridges were found. The single bullet was found stuck in a painting frame on the wall across the hallway, and was determined to be home made.
The gun model was relatively uncommon. The Glock 38 45GAP Semi Automatic, was the preferred handgun for concealed carriers, the Glock was light, accurate, and not bulky. He was wondering if this gun was already in the databases, but had a hunch that it would come up clean. Whoever this guy was, he was a professional. Someone who took the time to pick up the cartridge, clean up after himself and disappear into the night was no amateur. Jones thought that perhaps the person had a history in some law enforcement agency, the military, or worse, with the Feds. All in good time, he reminded himself, all in good time.
A junior uniform came in and handed him the ballistics analysis of the gun. He sighed as he realized that he had guessed correctly. The gun was clean. There was no record for this gun. It was as if it was never made.
He looked again at the box, hoping that something will get his attention. There was nothing. Then he saw something shining at the bottom of the box. It was a disk. Jones took it and put it in his computer. After some whirling and rotations, the computer declared that the disk was formatted in an unfamiliar way, and it was spat out of the drive with no further notice. An empty disk was not a great find. Jones knew better. He took out his phone, speed dialed a number, and two minutes later a young looking guy, with round glasses and an earring walked in. He took the disk and walked away without saying as much as a single word. Jones didn’t expect him to. But both knew that if there was a byte written on that disk, it will show up in no time. Boris Lazofsky was a young, brilliant and lazy enough computer wizard, that working for the police force was a reasonable substitute for the thrill of a startup. Jones thanked his lucky stars for sending him this unmotivated genius. Boris needed lots of management attention, and at times, mostly Mondays, management needed to look the other way.
Detective Jones was always a policeman. His father and his two brothers were on the force also. One of his sisters in law was on the payroll as well. Being a detective was his childhood dream. His father tried really hard to open up other areas of interest for him. Bradley, or Nicholas, as his father called him using his middle name, was good in math and sciences, and he was a good athlete as well. He graduated high school with honors and won a scholarship for undergraduate studies. He chose criminology as his major, and added psychology as a minor. He always thought that in order to be able to catch criminals, one needed to think like one, to feel like one. He thought that evidence without motive doesn’t get convictions. He thought he would change the world.
Once he joined the force he realized that changing the world was indeed ambitious, and quite possibly impossible. He decided to change the Boston police force, and then, a couple of years later, he decided to concentrate on the detective department, in his own precinct.
He was familiar with computers. He thought that everyone living and working in the twenty first century must be acquainted with computers. In fact, he thought, inability to understand how computers work, what software could do, was a disability, a handicap. In his team, there were staff members who developed a computer phobia. They insisted that a good police officer needed a good mind, a notepad, and a sharp pencil. He disagreed. When Jones took command over the detective department of the Boston 12th precinct, he made sure that all staff went through mandatory computer training and workshops. He insisted that all case reports and summaries are submitted printed neatly in hard copy and in soft copy as well. A mutiny was underway, but Detective Jones defused it by an all hands meeting in which he committed to the department staff that using computers would significantly enhance the department’s accomplishments and capabilities. He asked them to give him six months. He promised that if after six months they came to him and said that their work is not benefited by the use of computers, he would reverse the change. He promised that after six months, nobody would be forced to use computers..
What happened was nothing short of a revolution. The rate of solved crimes shot up in less than a month. The average time necessary to solve a crime was reduced significantly. The department was commended by the mayor, on multiple occasions, and even the news media was supportive. And supportive media is quite unusual indeed. The staff came to him long before the six months were up and told him that he had their blessing to continue his small transformation. He didn’t need more than that. He went and hired Boris, who was perfect for the job. Boris was making a reasonable salary for a reasonable effort. Given his background and capabilities, financial stability with predictable hours were something close to heaven. Boris was a startup refugee.
Until he was hired by the Boston police department, Boris was a junior programmer with a computer startup company owned by a computer whiz who thought he could change the world with his invention. He was articulate enough to sell his ideas to a couple of venture capitalists who trusted that the man will bring them billions of dollars in return. The company never took off, although its founder did indeed. He drove a Lamborghini, owned a house in Cambridge, and was always surrounded by top models. He certainly had the good life. Boris felt as though he was working his ass off, so that Mr. Lamborghini there could enjoy a new lifestyle. When the offer came from the Boston Police Department, he didn’t think twice. He quit that same day, and joined the force. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wear uniform, but he did have to go through basic training, holster a gun and a badge. Boris was a good cop, and with Detective Jones’ plan to revolutionize the Detective Department of the 12th Precinct of the Boston Police, he was finally in the right place on the right time.
Lazofsky adored Jones. When they met, Lazofsky was very close to giving up altogether. Years of software development in startups made him bitter. Having to send a large portion of his salary overseas to help his family, the endless work, the late nights and weekends, the angry customers, all that made him ask the big question: “where was this leading? When will it end?”
Lazofsky was ready to leave it all behind when he literally ran into Detective Brad Jones. Jones was investigating a murder case in a downtown businessmen lunch joint. The kind of joint where very busy businessmen come and pretend to have a quick lunch and rush back to the office to continue pretending to be working hard. One of the waiters was murdered one morning, during lunch rush. The police showed up really quickly, and closed the area hermetically. Boris happened to have been there, grabbing an ordered lunch for himself and three co-workers. He was holding his bag of food, heading for the door when he heard a few gunshots, followed by a short scream and a commotion. He was pushed hard by someone wearing a capuchin. Boris didn’t see the guy’s face; in fact he couldn’t even tell if he was a male or a female, black or white. He could tell that he was about 5’8” and slim build. Question by Detective Jones yielded that data three minutes into the interview. But Jones saw something else. He saw a young man, unshaved, long curly hair, glasses, and a really sad look. Jones asked Lazofsky where he lived, and what he was doing for living. Lazofsky was vague at first, but very cooperative shortly after that. Jones saw an opportunity.
Jones described the department for Boris. He told him about the work – trying to find patterns where none apparently exist. He described the satisfaction felt when a case is cracked open. He explained that done right, computer software can and does contribute immensely to police work. Jones could see that Boris’ eyes lit up. At that point, Jones took out a business card and told Lazofsky to sleep on it, and to call him when he was ready to talk business. The call came the next morning. The rest was history. Lazofsky became the computer guy with the detective department of the Boston Police Department.
Jones had plans for that night. He was attending a convention. He had to go air out his good suit.