The body lay as it had been all night. Daybreak brought the twitters and calls of birds, which commingled with the screams and chatter of a gathering crowd, all muted by the blaring sirens of responding emergency vehicles. The people paved the way for the police and personnel to tend to the crime scene. The media rushed in before the police, trying to nab all the pictures from all the angles they could, but the body was covered up and the cameras pushed behind the barriers as the cops waited for the lead agent assigned on the case, who arrived fairly soon.

The black SUV was guided to the front of the building. The side door was opened and a well suited long leg swung out before the agent completely stepped out of the vehicle, closing the door behind him as he pushed his coat back and rested his thumbs in the belt hook of his pants, observing the crowd around and above him. His name was called and he walked towards them, taking off his black framed glasses before introducing himself.

"Special Agent Alexander Mahone."

"I know. Officer Bellick."

"What've we got here?"

"Dead body, beaten to a pulp. Fit the bill for your investigation."

"Let's see the scene."

Bellick lead Mahone into the building, introducing him to the other cops on the scene. The cloth was removed for Mahone to see the body.

"Got anything on this guy?"

"Nothing's come through yet."

"Any witness statements?"

"All of them when and after the body was found."

"Anyone recognize him from around here?"

"No."

"He was holding something." Mahone pointed to the dead man's folded fingers.

"Looks like it."

"Check the floors. Under furniture, wherever something looks out of place."

Mahone ordered and the cops started prodding everywhere. Mahone himself joined the search, but having found nothing, he stood back up in frustration, but his foot landed on paper rather than wood. He picked up the small, ripped yellow paper from a corner and held it up in the light, seeing dull traces of writing.

"Bellick! Got a pencil?"

Bellick, in the middle of talking to a journalist, grabbed the pencil from the girl's hand and took it over to Mahone. The girl stood there in disgust, but Mahone sent her a thank you nod with the pencil in his hand.

"I asked you, not her."

"You got your pencil, use it."

Mahone glared at Bellick but went on with his work, rubbing the pencil lead on the paper till the hidden words became visible.

"'Taxi nunoer 608. -7431. Stee ki d looe."

"Make any sense to you?" Bellick mumbled.

"Reynolds! IT!" Mahone left Bellick hanging and walked back out to the IT team.

"Yes sir!" the girl made her presence known.

"Track a taxi, number 608. Anything with number ending in 7431."

"7431. Found one, cell phone. Owner's name is Randir Bakshi. Drives a taxi downtown."

"Call him up and ask him where we can meet with him."

"On it," Reynolds found the number on her tablet and went away to make the call.

"You brushin' me off already?" Bellick growled as he walked next to Mahone.

"Excuse me?"

"This murder, crime, happened in my town. This is my territory!"

"It might be your territory, but the crime spree here is under a federal investigation, which makes it mine. If you'd like to lead the local support here, that's fine, but if you can't, I can as easily get another-"

"Agent Mahone, we got the driver." Reynolds interrupted Bellick and Mahone, who happily went away.

"He's currently driving a client, en route to a Fairview Hotel, Madison and 75th. Says he's 20 minutes out."

"Let's get moving. How far are we?" Mahone speed walked back to his car with his driver and Reynolds on his heels.

"10 minutes, sir," answered the driving agent.

"Make it 5. Reynolds rides with me. Get me everything you can find on Mr. Bakshi."

Reynolds jumped in the back of Mahone's SUV, which led a troop of 3 other black SUVs and a couple squads on the race to the hotel.

The police arrived ahead of the taxi apparently, and parked behind the building after dropping Mahone and some other agents at the front. Mahone and Reynolds walked in as other agents found posts outside for lookout. The hotel manager noticed the unusual behavior and came over to them. Mahone made his identity known and told him to continue business as usual. Five minutes in and the com buzzed in his ear.

"Target approaching. Landing on entrance."

"Let him through without contact."

"Target carrying female carry-ons, following female passenger ."

All eyes inside fell on the revolving doors, which first led in a female in a pink travelling outfit, then came in the brown skinned elderly man carrying two pink travel duffle bags. The taxi driver turned up the bags to the bell hop and agents began converging on the target, but Mahone stopped them, instead intercepting the man by himself.

"Mr. Bakshi, Special agent Mahone with the FBI. Mind if I have a word with you."

"No problem, sir," the taxi man said in a heavy accent with a smile on his face and tone.

Mahone led him to the lounge and sat across him.

"Mr. Bakshi, do you recognize this handwriting?" he took out the yellow paper and handed it to Bakshi.

"I have seen it before, yes." Mahone motioned for him to continue.

"Strange man, but nice. Every day he calls my taxi at 10 o'clock in the morning. He hands me this paper with my taxi and phone on it and below it says where he wants to go. He asks me every day where I'm from, and when I tell him I'm from India, he starts talking to me in Hindi."

"He has the same routine every day? Like he doesn't remember you?" Reynolds intervened and looked at Mahone.

"No, it does not sound like he remembers me. I think it's because of his head."

"Why, what's on it?"

"He has really short cut hair, close to head. And a really long scar on his head too."

"You say he's a nice man, huh?"

"Yes. He asks me the same questions about my family and he finds out my struggles, he gives me an extra hundred dollars cash at the end of his ride."

"And you don't do that to take advantage?"

"I'm an honest and God loving man. I do not take advantage of other people's shortcomings."

"Mr. Bakshi, I'm gonna need you to pick me up at 8 o'clock tomorrow and take me with you to pick up this man from his home."

"Oh I don't pick him up from his home. He meets me by the bus station."

"Every day, right?"

"Yes, every day."

"Great, so we'll go to the bus station. Is that possible for you, Bakshi?"

"Yes, of course, sir. Is the man in trouble? If he has done something wrong, I am not really sure if he were to remember doing it."

"You said he was a nice man to you, Bakshi. I'm gonna let you hold to that. But we need to get him before he puts himself and others in any trouble."

O0OO0OO0OO0O

The taxi horned outside the townhouse in uptown, waiting for its passengers to arrive. Agent Mahone exited the house with his phone to his ear and another agent walked out behind him, tossing the keys back to Mahone after he had locked the door. Both agents climbed into the cab, Mahone in the back and his partner up in front. He finished his call just as the taxi took off.

"Mr. Bakshi. How are we today?"
"I am good, sir. How do you do?"
"I'm ready to catch this guy. Are you?"
"I suppose yes."
"Alright then, bus station it is."

Bakshi pulled up into his usual spot where he picked up the client in question every day. Having arrived 5 minutes before ten, they grew restless at 10:15, checking their watches every 15 seconds.

"And he's never late?" Mahone asked.
"Never, sir."
"Maybe he forgot about it, sir." The partner agent suggested.
"No, Cassidy." Mahone said in frustration and got out of the cab, slamming the door shut behind him. Agent Cassidy got out as well.

"If he comes here everyday, someone else is bound to remember seeing him. Cassidy, go about the buses, ask the drivers if they see anyone with our guy's description."
"Right on it, sir." Agent Cassidy strode off to talk to the bus drivers.

"Why this bus stop?" Mahone asked himself, putting his hands thumbs forward on his belt, rotating around, getting all the details around him.

—————
Agent Cassidy hopped off the third bus he'd checked, annoyed by the same response he'd gotten from the last two busses. He was about to put his phone to his ear when a bus went off in front of him, the bus from which a man with a buzz cut and scar stared out the window. He dropped his phone and took off running behind the bus. He sped up his pace and managed to grab onto the ladder in the back and pulled himself up, going all the up to the roof. Careful not to slip, he he found an open window and swung in feet first, pulling out his identification at the terrified screams of the passengers. He sat in the back on an empty seat in the right aisle, getting a good view of his target. He reached his pocket for his phone, but angrily punched the back of the seat in front of him upon finding that he had dropped it back at the station.

The bus stopped at the next station and only the man got off. Agent Cassidy ordered the bus to stop a few feet ahead and got off the bus, running to keep the target in his sight. He followed the man to a gated apartment complex, which he got into by showing the guard a picture. The agent waited a while and then got into the complex with his badge out.

"Do you know that man?"
"Sorry sir, I'm a replacement for today."
"Okay. So many people live here?"
"Not many. Not after the murder that happened three years ago."
"There was a murder?"
"Yes sir. A mob family killed a girl in that building."
"The building this guy walked in to?"
"Yes sir."
"Alright, thank you." Agent Cassidy ran up as the man disappeared from the lobby.

The agent skipped to a stop inside, looking each way to find his mark. His eyes fell on the elevator, and as soon as the light stopped at number 5, Cassidy dashed for the stairs.
He pulled out his gun and walked the hall, looking through every corridor till he spotted the open door at the end. 

He arched his eyebrows to the side, impressed that the criminal grabbed himself a perfect view penthouse. 

Poking his gun through first, Cassidy pushed in the door, and walked inside right as his gun was impacted out his hand and his body went flying into the apartment. He pushed himself up and lunged into his opponent, hitting him with all he could. The two fought hard, the criminal obviously having a better advantage given that the fight was in his territory. Cassidy got his chance when he picked a thick wire are strangled the man enough to knock him out for awhile, then used whatever he could to tie him to the chair.

"Alright, Mr. Let's find out who you are." Agent Cassidy threw off his tie and picked up his gun. He put it into the holster as his eyes struck on to the walls for the first time. This was the man's lair. Every wall had something on it: pictures, some clear, some with red crosses on them; names, numbers, maps with pins and strings on them. Cassidy awed at what he saw and stepped forward to the wall in front of him, but stumbled onto a book. He bent over and picked it up, brushing off the dust to reveal the year, four years past written on it.