This is the last entry for Mad Science Institute I’ll put here for a while. Starting Tuesday, 12/20/2011, I’ll go back to more from the Hollow Earth Expedition serial!
“I’d like to ask you a question, if you don’t mind,” Agent Nash slid a series of photos out of a brown envelope. “Do any of these men look familiar to you?”
One by one, Agent Nash showed him mug shots of men with facial tattoos, missing teeth, and long, unkempt beards. Dean studied each one and shook his head—until the last photo. His hand froze as he held the image of a man who filled the picture in front of him.
“This one,” Dean said. “I saw him the day McKenzie came to find me. She looked at him… it was like she recognized him and she was afraid.”
The two agents exchanged a meaningful glance.
“We believe that the man you saw is Morton Hendrix, better known by any of a dozen aliases, including “Brick.” He is a member of a gang known as the Blitzkrieg Legion, AKA the Blitzkriegers. He is also a person of interest in a series of armed bank robberies.”
“A ‘person of interest,’” Dean repeated. “You mean he’s a suspect?”
“He is a person of interest,” Nash said flatly. “His associates are also of interest in the same crimes. Did Professor McKenzie ever speak of Brick? Or did she mention anything that might relate to the Blitzkriegers?”
Dean shook his head. None of it made sense. Why would she have had anything to do with a biker gang? And yet, she must have. For whatever reason, she had been running from that giant of a man and his friends. And it seemed she hadn’t run fast enough.
And yet a man as big as Brick could have just snapped McKenzie’s neck. Why go to the trouble of burning out electrical circuits? Then again, the courts might convict a man of inflicting a broken neck, but not for inflicting a heart attack. It meant there might not be justice for McKenzie. As he thought about it, Dean’s hands tightened into fists.
The FBI agents thanked Dean, collected their photos, and departed. He was free to return to his numbness, but now he found himself unable to do so. McKenzie had been murdered, he was certain of it. What was more, he had seen the face of her killer, or at least the face of someone involved in the killing.
Dean had no answers for who killed McKenzie but at least he was beginning to get an idea of what he needed to do. He took out the two pieces of paper she had left him, the note accepting his proposal and the sticky-note that indicated he could have her job.
He hated himself for failing to save her, but he still had a chance to do something to help the woman he had loved. Her last wish had been for him to protect her students. Maybe, while he was at this institute of hers, he could find out who did this to her and settle the score.