Seeley looked around the conference room at his team and grinned, “Great work guys. Now, who’s up for pie? I’m buying…”
One by one the scientists all left, varying excuses, until he was sat alone with just a file for company.
“Alright. No need to waste good pie.” he nodded to himself as he picked up the file and left for his usual spot in a window at the diner. He was half-way through the slice of apple pie when he looked up to see an older man slide into the seat across from him. Not just any older man either, the nameless military guy who’d invaded his office last time.
Booth looked around for Larson his sidekick.
“Relax. I gave Larson the night off. You wont make me regret that decision now will you Seeley?” the man asked.
Booth shook his head, shovelling an overly generous piece of pie and whipped cream into his mouth. Best to keep the man off his guard thinking of Booth as a goon, a clown who’s an easy mark.
“My men tell me that you had a conference this evening, that the team has findings to report.”
Booth nodded.
“Well?”
“Well, it was complicated squint stuff that boiled down to me knowing where the body was murdered and exeactly how he died. Gruesome if you ask me.”
The older man paused for a moment, “You know where?”
Booth nodded and sipped his coffee.
“Then you know what leaking a story like this will do to the industry. We cant see all these years of hard work run into the ground over somehing so minor. Think of the children all those starving actors, Union figures… better yet, think of how much it will cost you to take, what’s his name, ‘Parker’ to the movies next time.” the man said, threat evident in his tone.
Booth put the coffee cup down and slid the file across the table.
“This is everything?” the man asked.
“All the notes, every analysis and full report.”
“Pleasure working with you Agent Booth.” the man extended his hand
Booth made a show of wiping pie off his fingers, making the man wait with hand extended, before shaking.
“Likewise …?”
He waited for the man to offer a name. He just smiled, turned on his heel and walked off.
Booth shrugged and finished his pie. As he slid the plate away from him there was a buzz from his pocket. He answered, “Booth… yes Hodgins this is a good time. No, there are no spooks here. In fact I just sent one away with a file of all the team’s findings.” Booth paused, listening, “What do you mean you left something in the lab? What kind of something? OK, I’ll be right there.”
When he entered the lab Hodgins was at his workstation.
“Well? What did you leave out?” Booth asked.
“Three small items, an oversight really. Nothing that would compromise the body of work that was done, nothing that would have lead the spooks to any interesting conclusions …”
Booth nodded and waved his hand to say “get to the point.”
Hodgins caught the gesture, “OK. The single splinter of Hawaiian wood. You know how I thought I was a calling card? I was wrong. Dead wrong. It was planted. I found traces of a chemical used to treat leather, not FDA approved, but common in Italy. My guess is that it was from leather gloves worn by someone offering us a clue. So, the shark tooth got me thinking. Well, all of us really, but the whole spook thing sent my brain into interesting places. Did you know that there are people who worship sharks? I thought the cult had died out years ago but a few calls to a few of my more … colourful … friends turned up the fact that they’re alive and kicking even today. So I did some research…” He clicked his mouse and pulled up a page of information. Booth leaned over and hit “page down” until there were pictures mixed into the text.
“Cliff notes version?”
Hodgins grinned, “This is more Brennan’s area - anthropology - but I am starting to see a link to shark worshippers all over this case. We have the location - Maui by the looks of the splinter - and a shark tooth. And then there’s the text here that describes an offering made to the shark god Kalahiki. The ritual sounds similar in too many ways - a man strung up and beaten to death by rods with shark teeth embedded in them, to simulate shark bites on land. Someone sacrified Jeremy to appease a pagan god, to ask his blessing over whatever enterprise was nearby.”
Booth nodded, “It was done in direct line of sight of the HOLLYWOOD sign. Someone wants the shark god’s favour on their movie. But why?”
Hodgins held both hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Dont ask me. Not my job … bugs, slime, crazy conspiracies and whacked-out shark worshipping freaks, yeah. Answers to ‘why’ is yours.”
Booth smiled, “Good work. Oh, and when you leak details about that spy-bug … make sure it cant be traced back to the Jeffersonian - Bones will have your hide!”
Both men laughed and Booth turned for the door. Booth had his hand on the door when he turned, “That was just two out of three. What was the third thing? I mean, there was the spy-bug.”
Hodgins watched as his computer finished shutting down, turned out the light over his workstation and walked over to Booth in silence.
“The bug. I did some checking, this time with people who I find scary. Seems its years ahead of what the US government has in circulation right now.”
Booth whistled in appreciation. “Now that’s something that would get the spooks all worked up. How do you think our movie exec laid hold of the bugs?”
Hodgins shook his head, “He didnt. He was a victim. Cam’s results showed salt and mineral defficiencies consistent with a man with a nasty case of Delhi belly … Bombay Bowels so to speak. These nasty little buggers were probably dropped into his food and would have lodged in his guts, had his guts not been churning and moving food through at the speed of …”
Booth grimaced and waved a hand, “I get the picture. He had a nasty case of the runs and these things didnt lodge where they were meant to.”
“Right. I’m betting that the killers were tracking him with these things. And that gets seriously interesting, dont you think?” Hodgins face lit up like a young boy on Christmas morning, “So the question is, how does a Hawaiian shark worship cult get their hands on covert technology that is years ahead of the government … and why would they be sacrificing a victim to call down favour of the god in sight of the HOLLYWOOD sign?”
Booth shrugged, “Any idea who makes these bugs?”
Hodgins smile vanished, “Dont got there man. I mean, seriously, DONT - GO - THERE. Company like that eats people like us for breakfast and has the clout to cover its tracks before lunch-time.”
Booth raised an eyebrow and waited.
Hodgins gave in, “It’ll be your funeral. They are a multi-national called Vorschlag industries, run by one Kenneth Irons. One of the ten richest men in the world. They’ll crush you like a bug, man.” he sighed as he saw the resolve on Booth’s face, “So be it. But dont let your epitaph read that I didnt warn you.”
Both men left the lab, Hodgins watching Seeley get into his car and drive away, and Seeley too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice how thoroughly he had managed to creep-out Hodgins.