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Cotton FBI - Episode 04

E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
Englisch
Bastei Lübbeerschienen am14.03.20141. Aufl. 2014
Digital Series. Episode 4:
A well-dressed man is found dead, floating in a New York harbor basin. The drowned man originally hailed from a small town in Alabama and, according to local authorities, died six years ago. The FBI gets involved. Agents Cotton and Decker soon realize that there are more cases like this: affluent criminals who were living under false names and then were murdered. These very names also appear on the list of a witness protection program and Cotton receives a visit from two colleagues who won't tolerate any further investigation. But a man like Cotton doesn't buckle under pressure ...
A new legend is born! COTTON FBI is a remake of a world famous cult series with more than one billion copies sold and appears bi-weekly with a self-contained story in each e-book episode.mehr

Produkt

KlappentextDigital Series. Episode 4:
A well-dressed man is found dead, floating in a New York harbor basin. The drowned man originally hailed from a small town in Alabama and, according to local authorities, died six years ago. The FBI gets involved. Agents Cotton and Decker soon realize that there are more cases like this: affluent criminals who were living under false names and then were murdered. These very names also appear on the list of a witness protection program and Cotton receives a visit from two colleagues who won't tolerate any further investigation. But a man like Cotton doesn't buckle under pressure ...
A new legend is born! COTTON FBI is a remake of a world famous cult series with more than one billion copies sold and appears bi-weekly with a self-contained story in each e-book episode.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9783838747460
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format Hinweis0 - No protection
FormatFormat mit automatischem Seitenumbruch (reflowable)
Erscheinungsjahr2014
Erscheinungsdatum14.03.2014
Auflage1. Aufl. 2014
ReiheCotton FBI: NYC Crime Series
Reihen-Nr.4
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.2188895
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe
1

"A woman drowned in the harbor," Jeremiah Cotton said. "This is hardly a case for the FBI, sir."

He sat together with Philippa Decker in the office of his superior, John D. High. The head of the G-Team had called the two agents in to assign them their newest case.

Philippa Decker grabbed the papers on the table and flipped open the file. Meanwhile, Cotton enjoyed the view of the team's control center from the boss's perspective. The wide space beyond the glass partition was bathed in bright artificial light - a high-tech headquarters rife with huge monitors and technology that Cotton had only dreamt of during his time with the NYPD.

Mr. High looked over at him disapprovingly. "Would you do me the favor of listening to me, Special Agent Cotton? That would be the fastest way for you to find out why this case has landed with us."

Cotton tore himself away from the view of the headquarters and cleared his throat. "Certainly, sir. Excuse me! It's just that, for a boy from the boonies, this is all still pretty impressive, sir."

John D. High scowled. "The death in the harbor was only the beginning," he continued. "At first, it looked like a routine case for the police. The dead woman even had her purse on her, with all her ID."

"I see, sir. Of course, that shouldn't be taken for granted." As a former cop, Cotton knew: A body found with papers allowing it to easily be identified was a godsend.

"The driver's license and credit cards identify the woman as Mira Anthony," Decker said. She had been listening while she flipped through the documents. "But it doesn't end there."

"Certainly not," John D. High continued. "First of all, the police couldn't find out what this Mira Anthony was doing in New York. Her last known residence, based on her documentation, was the friendly town of Collinsville, Alabama." He looked at Cotton. "As a boy from the boonies, you know about such places, Special Agent Cotton, don't you?"

Cotton, who came from a hick town in Iowa, felt a little deflated. "You could say that, sir," he replied. "New York can be a dangerous place if you're dropping in for the first time."

A slight smile showed in the corners of Mr. High's mouth. "I think it would be pretty hard to upset a woman like Ms. Mira Anthony from Collinsville, considering that the NYPD found out from their colleagues there that she died six years ago. Since then, she's been resting peacefully and undisturbed in the cemetery of her hometown, which she never even left while she was alive."

"The woman's papers were forged," Decker asserted. "She was living under the dead woman's name."

"Okay," Cotton said. "This is a case for the FBI, but since when does the G-Team deal with fake IDs?"

Mr. High gestured dismissively. "We're beyond that. Your former associates at the NYPD, Special Agent Cotton, found out even more before we took the case out of their hands. For example, our deceased woman was actually Laura Robinski - a freelance accountant and financial expert who used to work here in New York. She disappeared from the picture three years ago. It's suspected that she was involved in money-laundering operations for the Mafia and had cheated one of her clients out of several million dollars."

"I think I remember the case," Philippa Decker said in a contemplative voice. "At the time, there was the question of whether Laura Robinski might have gone into hiding or whether the people she had cheated made her disappear."

"Now," said High, "it seems this question has been answered. Ms. Robinski was classified as a missing person at the time. We have a DNA profile for her. Assuming that the deceased didn't also manage to falsify her genetic make-up, then we now know that Laura Robinski lived under a false name for three years."

"But her previous employers got to her in the end," Decker concluded.

"It was particularly stupid of this woman," Cotton said, "to cheat the Mafia in New York and then remain in the city."

"Stupid, yes," John D. High remarked, "but professionally stupid. She didn't just have false papers, she had a completely false identity. Along with everything that that entails. And when I say everything, I mean everything."

"What's included in everything?" Cotton grinned. "Please pardon the question, but it could be useful to me if I ever want to quit and you don't want to let me go."

"Not to worry," Mr. High sighed. "I will make myself personally responsible for your early retirement if you continue to be as much of a nuisance as you were on your first cases here.

"Concerning this Laura Robinski aka Mira Anthony: Her new papers were all registered with the proper authorities, along with the associated photographs. Mira Anthony's Social Security records make it seem as though she'd never died. She's even still registered with the IRS. Someone went to the trouble of polishing her online footprint and exchanging pictures of the dead woman or deleting them. And to top it off, they even gave Laura Robinski a little plastic surgery. She turned into Mira Anthony in every way possible, and this identity was watertight."

"Obviously not," Decker murmured. She looked up from the pictures of the dead woman. "When she went into the water, her false identity quickly vanished."

Mr. High made a wry face. "Anyway, this is your new case. You have the paperwork. The evidence is in Forensics. You are going to solve the death of Laura Robinski." He sounded as if he were stating an irrefutable fact. "Above all, I am concerned about the idea that someone can create false identities for god-knows-who - with forging records at the highest level. I want you to uncover the organization that is behind all this, including the connections that made it possible for Laura Robinski to live as Mira Anthony for three years."
*

To start off, Cotton and Decker paid a visit to Sarah Hunter in Forensics. Before entering the lab, they put on sterile lab coats and gloves. Everything looked meticulously cleaned. Polished lab tables and trolleys stood beside cabinets with glass doors stocked with various bottles and instruments.

Cotton looked around. "Is our re-surfaced body lying somewhere around here?"

Sarah Hunter, the team's forensic scientist, shook her head. "I left her in the city pathology department. She's not very fresh anymore, and I don't want to transfer her back and forth. But her things are here."

She opened a cabinet and spread chrome trays on the tables. The objects looked sad and dirty against the shiny metal of the trays: a shriveled handbag made of dingy white leather, pieces of clothing, all sorts of plastic cards, and faded documents. Keys, a ring, a brooch, and a few other bits and pieces lay on a smaller tray. The deceased's possessions had long since dried, but the traces of harbor water were unmistakable.

"What were the results of the autopsy?" Decker asked, as she turned to the objects.

"Was it actually a murder?" Cotton asked.

Hunter shrugged. "It's hard to believe it was an accident, considering the circumstances," she said. "However, nothing suggests that she was murdered. Death by drowning was confirmed by the autopsy. There's only a single injury - a light bruise near the right shoulder blade. The discoloration and the blood flow into the tissue indicate that the trauma occurred immediately before her death. But she also could have bumped into something when she fell into the water."

"Or she was pushed into the water," Cotton asserted.

Hunter screwed up her face. "Could be. In any case, the injury was not so severe that it would have disabled her. By all appearances, she drowned through her own actions if one can put it that way."

Cotton was spreading out the pieces of clothing when a soft exclamation from Decker diverted his attention. Cotton and Hunter turned to their colleague. Decker held up a key chain with a small yellow plush bird hanging sadly from it. Its feathers had been glued on. Three large keys hung beside the bird on the metal ring.

"The police couldn't match them up with anything," Hunter explained. "They're apartment or room keys, but they don't have any markings from the manufacturer. There are hundreds of thousands of locks in the city that they could belong to. They're completely nondescript."

"That's the intention," Decker said. "But do you see this here?" She showed her companions the key that she was holding between her white-gloved fingers. "It's a little thicker than you'd expect and it has a magnetic core."

"Magnetic?" Cotton narrowed his eyes distrustfully. "How can you tell? It's not sticking to the trays or the other keys."

"Have you ever seen the magnetic strip on your credit card get stuck to anything?" Decker asked. "It's the same with the key. The locking system can read the code inside, but it still looks almost like a normal key. Understatement is chic in...
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