The Killing Code Read Free Page A

‘comrades’. One saving grace though, aside from his reduced cost of living, was that his lieutenant, while quite reserved and authoritative in his manner, obviously appreciated the addition to his team of someone with Alan’s level of success in closing cases. Thomas Walker was a big, solid man with sparkling blue eyes, a thick neck, and a heavy jaw. His physical size and military haircut created an imposing appearance and on rare occasion, when he lost his temper and slammed one of his massive fists on a desk, there was no question as to who was in charge of his department.
    Columbus ha d a surprisingly high crime rate and more than one hundred murders per year. Lieutenant Walker was tired of fielding questions from the media and dealing with attacks from the local government about the city’s high murder rate and despite the fact that he had no direct control over crime rates, believed firmly that a high closure rate in his division would increase the deterrent for potential homicides, and reduce pressure on him. Beach was a strong asset and consistently outpaced the rest of the division in case closures, despite not having an assigned partner. Besides, Walker could identify with his new charge and he admired the younger man’s character.
    While it was standard operating procedure for detectives to be paired up, both for safety reasons and to increase effectiveness, an exception had to be made in Alan’s case because no one would willingly work with him. Walker, being a pragmatic man, realized there was no point trying to force the issue as it would only be counterproductive so he let sleeping dogs lie, and Alan had flourished as a lone wolf so everyone was relatively happy.
    As he observed the invisible line of demarcation between his colleagues and himself, Beach’s mind briefly strayed to the day of his arrival at his new post in Columbus and he recalled with disgust, the greeting he had received back then. He remembered how the room had fallen silent upon his arrival and not a soul had greeted him until his new lieutenant showed him to his desk. Not that he’d expected a gushing font of warm handshakes but he had secretly hoped he might have escaped the treatment he was used to in Boston. He had settled into his chair and opened his drawer to find some stationery, only to discover a dead rat lying atop his pen shelf. The creature had congealed blood around its nose and something that resembled viscera trying to escape from its throat and anus, as if someone had stepped on it. While not particularly startled at the sight, he was saddened at this immediate indication that his past had followed him to his new life.
    Alan had then nonchalantly wedged the end of his pencil under the rodent’s incisor teeth, lifted it slowly from its resting place and toward his trash can then dropped it, pencil and all, watching vacantly as it thumped onto the bottom of the receptacle. He’d then calmly turned back to his drawer to withdraw a new pencil, and casually commenced writing his report. He preferred to hand write his reports in pencil before typing them into his computer terminal, finding the old method more familiar and helpful in clarifying details rather than fussing with computer programs and two finger typing.
    “What’s up Beach - rat got yer tongue?” Detective Richard Collier had rasped from across the room. Collier and the other detectives, watching bemused from several feet away, broke out in sneering laughter intended to highlight their disdain toward their new colleague and to try and get under his skin. As much as Alan would have liked to retort and make a fool of Collier, he knew it was pointless. As superior as his intellect was, no one would have been on his side or appreciated his wit so he’d seen no point in playing to an audience of one. He held his tongue and quietly continued his work. Collier, the obvious leader of the pack, had fired a warning shot over his bow and Beach hoped that by keeping