LocardPrinciple
Hit and Run
CSI: San Francisco
"Saving General Patten"
(set between seasons 8 and 9)
Teaser
The off-Strip motel was not one of the best places in Las Vegas but it did offer what he needed, specifically a room and no questions asked. Places like this specialised in that kind of trade and he was willing to pay a premium for it. After all, he’d be making a lot more money than whatever he might pay the guy at the front desk. After parting with a small roll of bills, not that it was necessary, he made his way up the stairs to his room where the deal was going to take place. It was a cool night, being late autumn, but not oppressively so and he took the opportunity to stand outside for a while. The man lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, telling himself that this would be his last one, as he always did. He noticed the black sedan as it pulled into the lot and the driver parked it right underneath him but kept the engine idling. The buyers didn’t want to be here long, that much was clear. Two men climbed out the car and ascended the stairs calmly, like nothing was happening and nothing was going to. The visitors nodded in greeting and entered the room which he had deliberately left open. After a few minutes he heard two muffled pops and walked down the stairs to the car.
He rapped on the glass and the window was rolled down. ‘What?’ the driver asked.
The man opened his hand to reveal a grenade and the driver’s eyes widened. ‘I’m here to make sure that you understand your situation.’
The driver nodded.
‘Excellent. Your employers will not be returning to the vehicle. I suggest that you return to your regular haunt and forget you were ever here. Understand?’
‘Sure,’ the driver replied and backed the door back onto the road, burning rubber.
The man grinned and tossed the toy grenade into the trash. He met up with his companions as they strode down the stairs. ‘Are we ready to go?’
‘I can’t wait to get back home, it’s too hot in Vegas,’ one of them said.
‘It’s too cold back home half the time, you’re not comfortable anywhere.’
‘I don’t like the desert either,’ the third one whined.
‘Let’s go,’ the leader said and the trio began walking toward their car parked some distance away.
Headlights suddenly appeared ahead of them and the car didn’t look like it was going to stop. The two goons dived out of the way but the man calmly removed his pistol from its holster and raised it, fixing the silencer to it as he did so. He fired twice and the car slewed sideways, bumping two other cars as it came to rest. The goons stared at their boss and then ran for the car. The leader ejected the clip and unscrewed the silencer, dropping both into his pocket and left the gun on the ground. He knew it would be gone by the time the cops arrived...
CSIs Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows stared at the scene in the motel room without saying a word. The two heavyset men were both in heaps on the floor, guns in their hands. Greg Sanders was taking photos of the bed which had not been slept in but had definitely been used. David Phillips was inspecting the bodies from a crouching position and Nick Stokes was dealing with the car scene outside.
‘This was professionally done. A single gunshot between the eyes of each victim,’ David said. ‘And before you ask, they died within seconds of each other,’ he added, looking at Grissom.
‘But you can’t tell me who died first?’ the supervisor asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘This one,’ David replied, pointing to the larger victim. ‘A larger pool of blood.’
‘Killer sat on the bed,’ Sanders interjected. ‘Used the headboard to brace himself.’
Captain Jim Brass poked his head in the doorway. ‘The car has Vegas plates but they’re fake. What do you think, Gil?’
‘I think that we have to little information for a credible theory,’ Grissom answered. ‘David is right. Whoever did this was a professional.’
‘I’ve got a gas receipt here,’ Sanders interrupted. ‘Looks like the killer dropped it,’ he added, handing it to Grissom. ‘It was under the bed.’
Grissom inspected the receipt for a moment and passed it to Catherine. ‘Fancy a trip to the seaside?’
‘What is it?’ Brass asked.
‘It’s definitely a gas receipt,’ Catherine replied. ‘But it’s not from Vegas.’
‘Where is it from?’ he asked tetchily.
‘The City by the Bay,’ Catherine said. ‘Home of the Golden Gate bridge.’
Brass sighed. ‘San Francisco, here we come.’
‘We’ll contact the San Francisco CSIs and see what they think is best,’ Grissom replied. ‘We’re two CSIs short at the moment.’
Brass nodded. ‘You’re getting one replacement soon, I’m not sure about two. The Undersheriff is throwing his weight around.’
‘Do you know any of the San Fran CSIs?’
Grissom shook his head. ‘Used to know one, but he retired.’
Catherine shook her head. ‘You mean you don’t get along anymore?’
Grissom smiled wanly. ‘Something like that.’
‘I’ll go if they ask for one of us.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Can I take the bodies now?’ David asked.
‘Sure, David,’ Catherine said and pushed Grissom and Brass out of the motel room.
‘Anything interesting?’ Brass shouted down to Nick.
‘Yeah,’ the younger CSI answered. ‘I found one hole in the windscreen, but two bullets in the vic.’
‘Good shot,’ Catherine muttered.
‘Well trained,’ Grissom murmured, wondering.
"Saving General Patten"
(set between seasons 8 and 9)
Teaser
The off-Strip motel was not one of the best places in Las Vegas but it did offer what he needed, specifically a room and no questions asked. Places like this specialised in that kind of trade and he was willing to pay a premium for it. After all, he’d be making a lot more money than whatever he might pay the guy at the front desk. After parting with a small roll of bills, not that it was necessary, he made his way up the stairs to his room where the deal was going to take place. It was a cool night, being late autumn, but not oppressively so and he took the opportunity to stand outside for a while. The man lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, telling himself that this would be his last one, as he always did. He noticed the black sedan as it pulled into the lot and the driver parked it right underneath him but kept the engine idling. The buyers didn’t want to be here long, that much was clear. Two men climbed out the car and ascended the stairs calmly, like nothing was happening and nothing was going to. The visitors nodded in greeting and entered the room which he had deliberately left open. After a few minutes he heard two muffled pops and walked down the stairs to the car.
He rapped on the glass and the window was rolled down. ‘What?’ the driver asked.
The man opened his hand to reveal a grenade and the driver’s eyes widened. ‘I’m here to make sure that you understand your situation.’
The driver nodded.
‘Excellent. Your employers will not be returning to the vehicle. I suggest that you return to your regular haunt and forget you were ever here. Understand?’
‘Sure,’ the driver replied and backed the door back onto the road, burning rubber.
The man grinned and tossed the toy grenade into the trash. He met up with his companions as they strode down the stairs. ‘Are we ready to go?’
‘I can’t wait to get back home, it’s too hot in Vegas,’ one of them said.
‘It’s too cold back home half the time, you’re not comfortable anywhere.’
‘I don’t like the desert either,’ the third one whined.
‘Let’s go,’ the leader said and the trio began walking toward their car parked some distance away.
Headlights suddenly appeared ahead of them and the car didn’t look like it was going to stop. The two goons dived out of the way but the man calmly removed his pistol from its holster and raised it, fixing the silencer to it as he did so. He fired twice and the car slewed sideways, bumping two other cars as it came to rest. The goons stared at their boss and then ran for the car. The leader ejected the clip and unscrewed the silencer, dropping both into his pocket and left the gun on the ground. He knew it would be gone by the time the cops arrived...
CSIs Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows stared at the scene in the motel room without saying a word. The two heavyset men were both in heaps on the floor, guns in their hands. Greg Sanders was taking photos of the bed which had not been slept in but had definitely been used. David Phillips was inspecting the bodies from a crouching position and Nick Stokes was dealing with the car scene outside.
‘This was professionally done. A single gunshot between the eyes of each victim,’ David said. ‘And before you ask, they died within seconds of each other,’ he added, looking at Grissom.
‘But you can’t tell me who died first?’ the supervisor asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘This one,’ David replied, pointing to the larger victim. ‘A larger pool of blood.’
‘Killer sat on the bed,’ Sanders interjected. ‘Used the headboard to brace himself.’
Captain Jim Brass poked his head in the doorway. ‘The car has Vegas plates but they’re fake. What do you think, Gil?’
‘I think that we have to little information for a credible theory,’ Grissom answered. ‘David is right. Whoever did this was a professional.’
‘I’ve got a gas receipt here,’ Sanders interrupted. ‘Looks like the killer dropped it,’ he added, handing it to Grissom. ‘It was under the bed.’
Grissom inspected the receipt for a moment and passed it to Catherine. ‘Fancy a trip to the seaside?’
‘What is it?’ Brass asked.
‘It’s definitely a gas receipt,’ Catherine replied. ‘But it’s not from Vegas.’
‘Where is it from?’ he asked tetchily.
‘The City by the Bay,’ Catherine said. ‘Home of the Golden Gate bridge.’
Brass sighed. ‘San Francisco, here we come.’
‘We’ll contact the San Francisco CSIs and see what they think is best,’ Grissom replied. ‘We’re two CSIs short at the moment.’
Brass nodded. ‘You’re getting one replacement soon, I’m not sure about two. The Undersheriff is throwing his weight around.’
‘Do you know any of the San Fran CSIs?’
Grissom shook his head. ‘Used to know one, but he retired.’
Catherine shook her head. ‘You mean you don’t get along anymore?’
Grissom smiled wanly. ‘Something like that.’
‘I’ll go if they ask for one of us.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Can I take the bodies now?’ David asked.
‘Sure, David,’ Catherine said and pushed Grissom and Brass out of the motel room.
‘Anything interesting?’ Brass shouted down to Nick.
‘Yeah,’ the younger CSI answered. ‘I found one hole in the windscreen, but two bullets in the vic.’
‘Good shot,’ Catherine muttered.
‘Well trained,’ Grissom murmured, wondering.
