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mf9769 t1_j63w1ua wrote

<2/3>

He'd seen the signature before, multiple times over the last thirty years. Before he was a consultant.

Hell, even before he'd been the greenest recruit at Scotland Yard.

"Harris," said Rocky, very, very softly. "Pull your men back. Tell them to make it look like they're looking for evidence."

To his credit, Harris didn't bother asking him why. He just did what he was told, turning around and making his way toward one of the other investigators.

Rocky took a knee next to the closer of the two bodies. They’d been cleaned before they were posed but he could still see the residue of the vomiting that had likely been the dead man’s first sign that something was wrong.

He pulled on a glove and dug into the man’s pockets.

Rocky found what he was looking for almost immediately, his fist closing around a pen as he pulled it out and examined it more closely.

“Savoy Hotel, London.”

He had to give the killer her due. The object mimicked being a hotel branded pen extremely well, and unless you knew what to look for, finding the radio transmitter was nigh impossible.

He’d seen it before though and as he carefully took the pen apart, the wire connecting the battery inside its plastic barrel to the microphone hidden at the top was apparent.

“I know you can hear me, mum,” said Rocky.

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SlightlyColdWaffles t1_j64q8ro wrote

<3/3> The pen's one way transmitter had a short range, maybe 5 kilometers at best. If she was listening, she was close. If she was close, it was likely that she was watching us. And if she was watching us, then most of the officers on site were already dead.

"This is between us", I said to the pen. "Leave them out of this".

The pen declined to respond.

"I'm going to make up some excuse to leave. Follow me out, we can talk face to face-"

My monologue was interrupted by a soft whistle, followed by a loud CRACK. I dove to the ground, trying to use the bodies as cover. "SHOTS FIRED!" I shouted into my own radio. "ALL UNITS TAKE COVER!"

A cacophony of whistles and cracks erupted around me, with a chorus of screams and the thuds of falling bodies accompanying the performance. One by one, each officer at the scene changed roles from police officer to murder victim. I saw Harris on his stomach, crawling towards me with his service revolver in hand. It was useless against mum's rifle at this range, but its presence may have brought the agent some small sense of control of...

Harris' body jerked and stopped just as quickly, and settled back onto the ground. His lifeless hand still gripped the emotional support weapon.

The barrage of sniper fire ceased, which meant that all of my colleagues were dead. I tried to slowly crawl back to my car through the mud and puddles, but it was a futile effort. A boot stepped on my right hand, pinning me to the mud below.

"Your crimes end now" my mother growled. I chuckled.

"Do you think the Mob will give up just because I'm dead?"

"No," she said. "But I will."

CRACK

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