Priyanka drove around the deli to locate the best spot for her to plausibly set the bag down long enough for Marco to jump out and cover a short distance to the service entrance.  As he kept a nervous eye out for birds, he tried to keep to the schedule of verbally checking in every two minutes that Priyanka had insisted upon.  It quickly became tiresome.

Fortunately for Marco, the layout of the business seemed to be entirely on the ground floor, and so far he hadn’t encountered any doors with floor seals.  He easily spotted rat droppings near the meat cases; he hoped the locals were mostly nocturnal.  He had a bad moment when a dog barked awfully close by, but apparently the deli lay outside its recognized territory.  Marco hoped the spiced foods masked his scent.

After about 15 minutes he thought he had found what he was looking for:  an office with two bruisers playing cards and a row of monitors fed by surveillance cams.  He called Priyanka to let her know he was in position.

After staring at the men’s legs and feet under the table, it occurred to Marco to see if he could collect some DNA samples.  He didn’t have a hermetic sampler, of course, but his survival pack did have a pair of shears and some unused food storage cases that he assumed were sterile.  He labeled two cases “A” and “B” and then worked up the nerve to approach the pairs of mammoth legs and harvest some snippets of hair.

He sampled A without incident, but just as he sealed the case containing B’s sample, the giant leg jerked suddenly and Marco dove behind a large shipping container, fearing the man had sensed his presence.  He hid for about a minute before he raised his head and determined that both men were watching one of the monitors currently displaying Priyanka waiting at the service counter.  Marco also got a much better look at B, whom he was stunned to recognize as one of the security goons from Chadwell’s office.

Priyanka had come up with an innocuous cover story:  she was supposed to be the wife of a Russian medical supplier who relied on Orlov to bring him his favorite pressed meats from Kharkov.  She did the research to identify a reliably rare variety.  Her “husband’s” name and how he knew Orlov contained just enough harmless detail from Orlov’s background to be plausible but not so much as to suggest official profiling.  As the first of a half-dozen cold leads they had for Orlov, she fully expected to come out of the deli with nothing more than a kilo of pastrami. 

She approached the boy behind the counter and had scarcely delivered her opening line when Marco’s voice erupted through her earpiece.

“Centurion, get out.  They’ve made you.”

She had noted the security cameras on her way in, but she didn’t dare look at them now.  They boy was still looking at her, slightly puzzled.  He’s clueless, she thought.  Were they actively monitoring the audio?

“Priyanka, get out now,” buzzed Marco.  “They’re armed.  They haven’t spotted me.  I’m heading for the rendezvous.  Move!”

She gave an embarrassed look to the boy.  “Please excuse me, I’ve forgotten something.”

She had already taken a step towards the front door when out of the corner of her eye she saw the kitchen door fly open.  She ducked behind the end of the counter as three shots raked the shelves above her head.

She had her taser in her hand, but her cover was inadequate and she didn’t know how many she was up against.  Spying one of her assailants at shoe level, she remembered Marco and decided to retreat.

Priyanka tased the pair of legs then sprang for the door.  She must have incapacitated the gunman with her better reflexes because no one returned fire as she exited the deli and bolted ten meters down the street.

She sprinted around the corner then slowed to a less attention-grabbing pace to the car.  Once inside she ripped off her hair cloth, covered her smock with an old blanket, and jammed on some sunglasses.

Priyanka tried to drive casually around to where she had left Marco.  As soon as the car was stopped, she lay down sideways out of view and cracked open the door.  She gripped her taser and waited.

“Here I come,” called Marco, and he leaped over the threshold onto the car floor.  Priyanka gently latched the door closed while Marco secured himself in the shoulder bag.  She slowly sat up and didn’t see any suspects in the area.

She pulled away from the curb and drove out of sight of the deli.  Only then did she call Cohort Operations to report that the encounter had turned violent and that she needed backup.

The watch commander took her report and told her to stand by.  A minute later she came back and directed Priyanka to report back to HQ.

“I’ll be needed here to ID suspects,” she protested.

“By order of Tribune Kobick you are to return immediately.  Centurion Gaff will assume command of the scene upon his arrival.”

Kobick affected to be appalled, but Marco could tell his heart wasn’t in it.  Priyanka had insisted on taking the time to change out of plainclothes and Kobick could have chastised her for the delay, but he simply glanced at his phone while she saluted and settled Marco onto the Tribune’s desk.  Kobick let her remain at attention while he started his recital.

“Centurion Gaff has exactly one suspect in custody, a 17-year-old male who claims you interrupted an armed robbery in progress.”

“Detective Guzman stated that the gunmen were at repose until I arrived.  The security video will verify this.”

“Unfortunately, the security drives and backups were missing by the time Centurion Gaff had secured the scene.”

“Issue a warrant for the off-site backup.”

“We can find no contract on file for data services for this business.”

“We know they’re mob-connected, so it’s private, then.”

“Centurion Gaff has been unable to trace any such hypothetical feed.”

Gaff couldn’t trace his piss to the toilet, thought Priyanka.  “I’d be happy to assist Centurion Gaff,” she said.

“That’s very helpful of you, Centurion Mukhopadhyay, but I believe Centurion Gaff completed his network security certification just last month, so his exposure to the latest innovations in criminal routing is more recent than yours.”

Kobick knew how much this bullshit would needle Priyanka, but she didn’t pause to let him enjoy it.

“We have a pretty good idea of who was also watching,” she said.

“Indeed?”

“The man who ID’d Centurion Mukhopadhyay at the deli was also at Hamilton Chadwell’s office,” said Marco.  “He appeared to be among Chadwell’s security detail.”

“Really,” said Kobick.  “Did you observe this man at Mr. Chadwell’s office, Centurion?”

“I may have seen him at Mr. Chadwell’s office, Tribune, but I did not see his face at the delicatessen.  Aside from the unfortunate boy in Centurion Gaff’s custody, I observed only the lower extremities of one of the gunmen.”

“Please do correct me if I am mistaken, Detective,” said Kobick, “but I understand that the vantage points from which you observed this individual were a) while you were hiding in Centurion Mukhopadhyay’s tunic pocket, and b) while evading being trodden upon underneath a table in the employee lounge.  Do I have that right?”

“That’s right,” replied Marco, “but I had a clear view both times.”

“I appreciate that evidentiary standards might differ in the warrens, Detective,” sneered Kobick, “but the Federal Cohort has long embraced modern findings regarding the unreliability of eyewitness testimony.”

“Detective Guzman was also able to obtain some remarkable physical evidence,” said Priyanka.  Wardrobe wasn’t their only stop before reporting to Kobick.

“I sampled the DNA of the two men in the lounge,” said Marco.  “One of them, whom I suspect first shot at Centurion Mukhopadhyay, was Vasily Orlov.”

Kobick’s sneer disappeared, and he exhaled sharply as he regarded Marco with narrowed eyes.  He took the tablet containing the analysis report from Priyanka and read it twice.

“Centurion Mukhopadhyay sells you short, Detective Guzman.  That is most impressive.  So Orlov was hiding at the first place we checked.  And now he’s halfway to Ulan Bator.”

“On the contrary, Tribune Kobick,” replied Priyanka.  “I believe he’s precisely where he has been for at least the past two months:  here in the Bay Area, in the employ of Hamilton Chadwell.”

“Fortunately, Centurion Mukhopadhyay, the Federal Cohort does not proceed solely on the basis of your beliefs.  The only connection between Orlov and Mr. Chadwell is the uncorroborated testimony of Detective Guzman, which I am afraid is insufficient to further investigate a citizen of Mr. Chadwell’s standing.”

“The guy knew Centurion Mukhopadhyay was a Cohort officer and he shot at her anyway,” said Marco.  “And you won’t authorize your best lead for catching him?”

“An expensive operation that would have been unnecessary had Centurion Mukhopadhyay timely secured the scene and prevented Orlov’s escape.”  Kobick paused, hoping Priyanka would protest, but she accepted the rebuke, so he had to press it himself.

“Of course, Centurion Mukhopadhyay’s actions are understandable, given her earlier negligence with regard to your personal safety, Detective.”

“It was my idea to scout ahead.”

“An admirable display of courage, Detective, but I’m sure an Administrative Hearing Board would find it contrary to Cohort regulations.  Wouldn’t you agree, Centurion?”

Priyanka said nothing, her eyes fixed on the middle distance.

“Nevertheless, Detective Guzman, you have been extremely helpful in identifying a material witness in this matter, and I intend to commend your actions to your captain, who I am sure will be glad to have such a resourceful officer back in his command.”

Kobick stood and straightened his tunic.  “Centurion Mukhopadhyay,” he said with a tone of finality.  “When you have completed your report, please send it directly to me.  I wish to add my personal endorsement.”