Pete could barely keep his lunch down, turning away. It wasn't that he had never seen a body before, quite the opposite actually. The fact that it was someone he knew that was killed in such a brutal manner, is what made him want to hurl. The personal connection made it more difficult for him to handle, to the point where he got the officers to place a tarp on the body as soon as possible. Agent Avery noticed Pete's hesitation and proceeded to take over the scene and look for clues. He opened the cooler for a second and examined the hand without touching it.

     "We'll get the lab to go over that hand and make sure it's authentic," Avery said as he closed the cooler. "Could just be something from a joke shop. I've seen that happen before."

     "Fair enough," Pete said as he still kept his distance from the cart. "How was Joseph killed?"

     "A bullet," Avery answered. "One straight to the head. Death was instant, so I doubt he felt it."

     "Like the kids at the first scene," Pete replied. "The kids were clean kills, one shot and that's it. No torture like the rest of the victims."

     "He's considerate to make the death of innocents painless," Avery observed as he put the tarp back over the body. "Rules out the chance he's a sociopath. They wouldn't care about such trivial details."

     "I guess," Pete said as walked away from the cart to get some fresher air. He just wasn't feeling himself.

     "If this hand is legit," Avery suggested, "this would rule out any cooperation on his part. I doubt anyone would be willing to give up their right hand willingly."

     "Doubtful," Pete concurred as he walked up to one of the uniforms. "How many witnesses?"

     "To the actual shooting?" the officer asked.

     "Yes, what did they see?" Pete asked.

     "Nothing," the cop replied. "No one was looking this way when it actually happened. The man was dressed in black and had a ski mask on. I think he pulled it down at the very last second and fired when he knew no one was paying attention. It was point blank, so I think he was pretending to buy something before shooting him."

     "That's probably true," Avery called out. "There is a dog on the ground as well as a spoon. I think he was trying to put cheese on it when the shot was fired. There's blood everywhere, which would suggest a high-caliber weapon. What a mess."

     "He's obviously trying to get my attention again," Pete said. "He doesn't want me off this case."

     "No, he doesn't," Avery agreed. "Let's make it look like you are. He'll get angry and then maybe he'll get careless and make a mistake that will help us. Anger is a weapon, but only to one's opponent."

     "Agreed," Pete said. "We'll stick to our original plan."

     "Sounds good," Avery replied. "But we'll still work out of your department and help out as much as we can. I'll get a few probies to help out with your security footage. The sooner we find out how he got into the exchange building, the better. We need to get ahead of this bugger before he takes anyone else out. If Kyle is still alive, we need to move fast before we start finding more parts of him around town."

     When Pete and Agent Avery returned to the station, the man from Homeland Security was true to his word. The task force dealing with the menace known as the Prophet saw a significant increase in workers as Homeland brought in more people to help Grozza and Pete with security footage. They still had hundreds of hours from the exchange building and then more hours of security footage from the apartment building where Mrs. Blitzer was killed.

     Pete also had Agent Avery make more calls to see what effect, if any, the activities of the day had on the city and the market. All this preaching about the poor, and Pete couldn't help but think something that he was missing; the shooting of a hard-working man in the park was starting to dent his perception of the man fighting for the middle class. The Prophet could have also put that bomb anywhere for it to be a successful decoy. Why did he pick that building? Was Grozza right about the middle class and the crash being his real motive? Pete had to keep digging to find out if that was the case. If there was a motive they couldn't see, that could be the key detail that helped them find and bring this bastard in.

     Pete knew their best chance to get ahead of Geronimo and catch him in the act. Pete didn't want this grand crusade to be true, he just couldn't handle someone going to such extremes to seek revenge against what happened in the economy.

     Pete was still at his desk watching one of the security video from the security cameras when Agent Avery returned.

     "What's the story, Agent?" Pete asked as he paused his tape.

     "Positive ID on the hand," Avery answered. "It does belong to Blitzer. The prints on it match what his company has on file for security clearance. In case you're wondering, no one has attempted to break into Blitzer's company with his fingerprints, so that was not the motive for cutting off his hand."

     "Same as the first killing," Grozza said "This reeks of personal vendetta to me."

     At this point, Officer Jones returned from doing work at the Blitzer building. She looked tired but was eager to report.

     "What did you find?" Avery asked.

     "Who wants to know?" Jones replied.

     "Relax, Jones," Pete called out. "This is Agent Avery of Homeland and that man over here is Agent Brown of the FBI."

     "Special Agent," Brown corrected.

     "My apologies," Pete said as he turned back to Jones. "Report."

     "I didn't find anything else," she informed him. "Neither did forensics."

     "Alright, we just need to keep looking." Pete scratched his chin. "I honestly believe grunt work and one mistake by the opposition is going to win this for us. Not pretty, but at this point I'll take it any way I can."

     "Damn," Jones said as she looked at the big television in the lobby. "We stopped the attack and the market still took a dive?"

     "Just imagine how bad it would have been if the bomb went off," Pete said. "Most of the drops came from the companies who lost CEOs last week. The prophet's attacks are finally taking their toll. There's nothing we could have done to prevent those companies from taking a serious dip."

     "Glad I don't own stock in any of those companies," Jones said as she took a sip from her coffee without taking her eyes off the screen. "People are losing big money for something that wasn't even their fault."

     Pete stopped working, as if he got hit by a bolt of lightning. "Shit... the stocks!"

     "What?" Avery called, as he couldn't hear it.

     "The Stocks," Pete said again as he leapt off his chair. "It can't be that easy!"

     "What are you thinking?" Grozza said as he recognized that look on Pete's face; there was something brewing in his mind. He knew that Gibbons was in the middle of having an epiphany, a genuine eureka moment.

     "The stock market is his game," Pete answered, "That bastard has been playing us all for suckers since day fucking one!"

     "Who are you talking about?" Agent Avery inquired.

     "How would he do that?" Grozza asked, also interested.

     "I forget what you call it," Pete said, thinking about it. "What is it called when you think that a company is going to fail and you bet on it?"

     "You mean when someone shorts a company?" Special Agent Brown answered.

     "Yes!" Pete said as he pointed back at his partner. "What if someone's been shorting all this shit? What if someone knew in advance of these attacks and shorted the companies before taking out their CEO?"

     "Not every CEO is Steve Jobs," Jones countered. "That doesn't guarantee stocks will drop like that."

     "But he could find out which ones would make a difference," Grozza countered. "Look at the board; they're all dropping like flies. If he shorted any of it, the Prophet could make a fortune."

     "If we can find out who's been placing these shorts," Avery said, seeing where this was going, "We could find out who made the trades and then trace the money back to the Prophet."

     "I can get the SEC to look into it," Brown said, getting excited. "They're very good at finding out who got lucky and just managed to short all of the companies that the Prophet struck. One or two is lucky, but all of them would be advanced knowledge and therefore insider trading. They kind of look down on shit like that."

     "How do we find out who's making trades?" Pete asked.

     "I'll go," Brown said. "I got some buddies over there that owe me more than a few favors; let me talk to them."

     "Good call," Pete agreed. "Grozza, go with Agent Brown to the SEC and look into this. If someone's been shorting all these companies, I want to know who is brokering these deals by the end of the day."

     "I'm on it." Grozza grabbed his coat and was on his way to the door with Special Agent Brown not far behind. With everyone else doing the grunt work, it would keep up the appearance that Pete was really off the case. If the Prophet was watching the building, it might anger him a great deal.

Pete was excited but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. He pointed at Jones. "Take Grozza's desk. We got hours of security feeds to get through. Even if we catch this guy, we need to tie him to these locations to make things stick."

     "Why are you so happy?" Jones asked as she sat down.

     "This could be the real motive," Pete said, feeling relief.

     "Which means this ninety-nine bullshit is just a smoke screen," Avery added.

     "Maybe," Jones said as she thought about it. "Maybe he's killing two birds with one stone. Just because he's getting some cash on the side doesn't mean he isn't a true supporter of the cause."

     "But that's hypocrisy," Pete observed. "Making money while calling out the fat cats for being greedy. That makes no sense."

     "He's stealing money from the bad guys," Jones replied. "Maybe he's trying to act like Robin Hood? Take money from the rich to give back to the poor?"

     "That's bullshit," Avery answered, taking Pete's side. "And there's a hot dog vendor and two children down in the morgue who would disagree with you, too."

     "If he's cashing in on his own rampage," Pete continued, "there's a beach he wants to retire on. This is his exit plan."

     "Sounds like a good plan to me," Jones said. "But it takes money to short these companies, which means he either has his own money or he has someone covering these shorts for him."

     "Someone who he'll split the profits with," Avery countered. "In exchange for covering his shorts, his backers would get inside info no one else has and buy his or her own shorts. Everyone makes money and cashes in."

     "We're onto something here," Pete said.

     Everyone else went back to work, looking at videos and making calls, doing the real grunt work that would make the case stick if it ever fell into the hands of the district attorney. While Jones was going over the last murder scene, Pete was covering the stock building but he couldn't find a thing. He was getting tired of it and decided to watch other footage they had from previous crime scenes. Pete felt like he was wasting his time but he had to keep himself busy while waiting for Brown and Grozza to come through for him.

     It was hours since they last saw them when Pete's cellphone started to go off. He quickly paused the video he was watching as his phone gave that ominous horror theme reserved for the woman who used to be his wife.

     "What the hell is that?" Avery asked as he looked up as well.

     "The ex-wife," one of the other detectives in the room answered as many in there recognized the tone.

     "Yeah, I guess I had better find out what she wants." Pete picked up the cell. "Hello, Gabby, are you all right?"

     "No, I'm not." Gabby called back. Pete could tell by the tone of her voice that she was quite upset and had been crying.

     "What's going on?" Pete asked. He paused for a while as he listened to what she had to say as she gave him all the details of what had been upsetting her that afternoon. Pete had assumed she had broken up with her latest boy toy, but she was calling him with something more urgent.

     "I've got to go," Pete said as he disconnected the line.

     "Detective." Agent Avery stopped what he was doing. "What's going on?"

     "The Prophet's still not happy about my leaving the case, I guess." Pete replied as he was putting on his coat. "He left a message with my ex-wife."

     "What kind of message?" Captain McManus asked, walking in on the conversation.

     "He left it in the mailbox at the end of the driveway, after setting her house on fire," Pete answered. "The whole place just burned to the ground."

     Everyone in the room grew deathly quiet. The Prophet had burned Pete's ex's house to the ground. It was the very same house that he used to live in with the ex-wife before they separated. Geronimo was starting to make each hit personal, and this was just the opening salvo.

     "I have to take care of my family," Pete said.

     "Go," McManus said. "We got more than enough hands on deck."

     "He's right," Agent Avery added. "I'll take over the case until you're back. Go and make sure they're all safe."

     "Let me know when Grozza and Brown get back from the SEC," Pete said as he started to leave. "I'll try to be back here as soon as I get my entire family to a safe location."

     "Use the safe house of your choice," McManus told him. "If you want one that is occupied, I'll kick them out and get them setup somewhere else."

     "Thanks, but that won't be necessary for the place I have in mind." Pete turned around and walked out of the room.

     As much as he liked his job, the boys had to come first and some sick piece of shit was starting to show his true colors. That weekend had nothing to do with his kids; he was stalling so no one would look for someone planting a bomb. Now he was making threats to Pete's ex-wife and setting his old house on fire. It was fortunate that the kids were in school, but the gesture was one of a desperate madman. This was the reason Pete kept fighting, because the bad guy only got this desperate if he was afraid because Pete and his people were getting too close for their liking. Pete took the elevator down to the garage and immediately got into his car without speaking to anyone. Someone tried to get his attention but he wasn't in the mood. As far as Pete was concerned, he was officially off duty until his family was delivered to a secure location. As he pulled out into the streets, he put on the sirens and lights and got to the house, or what was left of it, as soon as he possibly could. As he came up to the house, at least three emergency response vehicles were there, which confirmed what his ex-wife had told him. Gabby was standing there with a blanket around her shoulders as she watched the house slowly burn to the ground. Pete got out of the car and slowly approached her.

     A cop actually tried to stop him. "What are you doing? Get back!"

     "First off," Pete said as he took out his badge, "Detective Gibbons; Homicide."

     "Detective," the cop said, confused. "There are no fatalities."

     "Except for my wallet," Pete said as he looked at the smoky pile of rubble.

     "Sir?" the cop asked.

     "That's my house!" Pete informed him. "I paid for that with twenty years of hard service to the city."

     "Sorry to hear that, Detective." The cop as he stepped aside.

     "Thank you." Pete walked past the cop and over to where Gabby was standing. When he walked up to his ex-wife, all the badgering and arguing slipped away as they embraced.

     "Why did he do this?" Gabby asked. "I'm not rich."

     "I don't know," Pete said as he looked at what was left of the house. "This is the second time today he's departed from his preferred targets. It might be because he thinks I'm off the case. I'm not sure. For now, the priority is to get you and the kids to a safe place."

     "What place could be safe from that madman?" Gabby asked.

     "There's a safe house close to the station," Pete answered. "I made some calls on the way down, you'll be watched by the best Marshals in the country. It's a big condo, and they've agreed to let you and the kids crash there."

     "Will that be enough?" she asked him.

     "I think so," Pete honestly answered, "but I will have backups in place, too."

     They got into Pete's car, and he drove her over to his house first. Pete kept things at the house for the boys, so he packed a suitcase for them. After they packed, Pete drove Gabby to the school to pick up the boys. After they picked the boys up, Pete drove to Jesse's campus and she was waiting for them outside her dorm. He'd called her on the way to pick up the boys and told her what was going on. She didn't like it, but with the Prophet out there and calling Pete at the house, she didn't want to take any chances either.

     "I thought he only went after the rich?" Jesse asked.

     "Something's changed," Pete replied, not in the mood for small talk. "Get in."

     As they drove back into the city, the kids seemed happy to have their sister in the car but she seemed less excited as she was as worried as Gabby.

     "Where are we going?" Jesse asked.

     "To a federal safe house," he told his daughter. "There will be a few US Marshals watching over you, and I've added some uniforms in the lobby and hallway. You'll be quite safe there. This place has room service, so no one leaves the condo until further notice. Understood?"

     "And when will that be?" Jesse asked.

     "I'm not sure," Pete answered. "But no one leaves until I say it's safe."

     "Great," Jesse said as she realized her plans for the next week or so had just been shot to hell. There was no telling how long it would take to bring the Prophet in.

     When they arrived at the building where the safe house was, he parked the car and led everyone inside. When they reached the top floor, one of the Marshals was in the hallway waiting for them. Agent Avery had called earlier to inform them that Pete's family now took priority. The kids seemed excited to see the lush condo, running around and having fun.

     Pete looked around the room as well. "Where's your asset?"

     "In the guest room," the Marshal replied. "He's given up the master bedroom without a fight for your family, because there's a lot more space for them and it has its own bathroom. Do you have a new place lined up for our guy?"

     "No," Pete answered. "He's not going anywhere. I'm not going to compromise your operation just to appease mine. You'll just be a little crowded but I think you can handle the extra company. The officers in the hallway and lobby are under your command. They're here to help you. I also think your asset will be more cooperative with them around as well, if I'm not mistaken."

     The Marshal paused for a moment. "Yeah, he probably will."

     Pete put down the suitcase he was carrying, a bag he packed from his own place, and strolled over to the door of the smaller guest room and softly knocked.

     "It's open!" a voice called out.

     Pete opened the door and strolled in. "Hello, Clive."

     Clive turned around when he noticed who was there. "Peter Gibbons, it's been a while since we last spoke. What was it? Three years?"

     "About that," Pete confirmed. "How is life in witness protection treating you?"

     "I can't complain," Clive said as he patted his stomach, "The food is pretty decent. A coincidence that I happen to be in town to testify while all hell is breaking loose, isn't it?"

     "Lucky breaks are hard to find, so I'll take it." Pete said as he checked out the guest room. "Thanks for giving up the big room for my family."

     "Your family?" Clive said, as he had no idea. "What is your family doing here?"

     "Someone is threatening them," Pete answered.

     "That is uncivilized," Clive said. "What kind of sick bastard threatens women and children?"

     "The Prophet," Pete answered.

     "You're keeping poor company, Peter." Clive observed.

     "I need a favor from you," Pete said. "I want you to be the last line of defense in case that prick tries again. He knows I'll put them in protective custody, but no one knows you're here. It's like having an extra goalie in net."

     "And what do I get for offering my services, Peter?" Clive asked.

     "You'd get my gratitude," Pete answered as he then pulled something out of his pocket. It was a poker chip with a signature on one side of it. "And you'd get this."

     Clive walked over and looked at it. "Is this what I think it is?"

     "It is," Pete said. "You give that marker to Uncle Lou, and that contract on your head disappears."

     "How the hell did you get one of these?" Clive asked, as he couldn't believe Louis would give one of them to a cop of all people.

     "I earned it," Pete answered. "When I saved his life. I took a bullet in the vest during that gang war you had with the cartel. That bullet was meant for Uncle Joe and because I saved him, he gave me this marker. It means he owes me a favor. I will let you have this favor to save your miserable life if you stand between them and this sick bastard. If they're not harmed when I eventually catch the Prophet, this will be yours. Deal?"

     Clive smiled and handed the chip back to Pete. "I accept. You've got yourself a deal, but there remains a problem. What am I supposed to use to take out your boy if he comes here? Harsh language?"

     Pete wasn't going to take the bait. "You never liked guns. I'm sure in a pinch you can make a weapon out of anything."

     "You're right," Clive wasn't going to argue about it. Truth was, if someone was going to attack Pete's ex-wife and kids, Clive would take pleasure out of squeezing the life out of that moron with his bare hands. "You're putting a lot of trust in me. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

     "I am," Pete replied. "You may be a bad guy, but you're a bad guy with a code. I trust that you're still the same honest crook we arrested all that time ago."

     "I am that same man," Clive said, cracking his knuckles. "The only way that bastard will harm your kids is over my dead body. If he even tries to come in here, I can assure you he will be treated with extreme prejudice."

     "That's all I wanted to hear," Pete replied. "Thank you."

     "You don't have to thank a man for doing his job," Clive said, "I still would have done it even if you didn't offer the marker. Men like this Prophet disgust me. He so much as sets foot in this condo, consider him dead on arrival. That is, if you don't get him first."

     "I'll do my best," Pete said as he shook Clive's hand.

     "Go get him, Peter." Clive said as he watched the detective leave the room.

     After hugging the kids and saying goodbye to Gabby, Pete left the condo. For a change, he would be able to do so without distractions because as of right now, his kids were the safest people in the city. If the Prophet tried to attack them again, it would be the last thing he ever did. Clive would make sure of it. Pete couldn't help but smile at the thought as he got into the elevator. All he could hope was that the Prophet was actually that stupid.