"If we're going by the seven deadly sins route, which is, of course, the obvious one," Jack interjected, "then that means there are still at least four players left in this little game. Envy, Wrath, l.u.s.t and Sloth, not to mention, we can't confirm that Greed exists yet."

"Moreover," Preston continued, as if speaking to an audience after he cleared his throat, "Bloodstrife production and these three individuals appear to be interconnected." Preston watched the last of the ooze land in the base of the trinket and paused for a moment before flipping it over. "Each of these people had some form of seemingly impossible ability. Pride didn't age, and although unconfirmed, her tattoo also moved on its own."

"We can't test this theory on Gluttony either," Jack said.

"That's only because you took his tattoo off, along with the rest his head." Preston said with a smile. "I haven't thanked you for that yet, have I? Anyway, aside from Gluttony's ability to do, well, whatever the h.e.l.l that was, we also have Greed who apparently can't be hurt by conventional means."

"If we a.s.sume that's true," Jack said, jumping in again. "Tell me, Preston, do you really believe all this?" he asked, bringing his hands to rest under his chin.

"I wouldn't have yesterday," he replied. "Seeing a man grow to three times his size in an instant and healing his wounds by eating a rotten burger? It tends to convert you. I can only guess that B.S. has some effects on the human body we couldn't possibly fathom."

"I think it's probably still a mixture of things, but Bloodstrife is in there somewhere," Jack said, still trying to grip the situation. "Okay, then we still have the whole 'sin' issue to deal with. That branch of it has more to do with Christian mythology," Jack added. "I mean, I see this more as sending a message than anything else."

"What do you mean by that? Are you getting all religious on me now?" Preston said with a cough, half serious. "Now's really not the time."

"No," Jack said with a laugh. "Just think about it. Pride died while trying to get plastic surgery. Gluttony died after we saw him eat anything and everything he could get his hands on, and Greed, well, according to Mikael Phillips, he took exactly what he wanted and was even kind enough to give the knife back-guess he didn't feel the need to keep it."

"I never thought of it like that," Preston admitted. "Still it doesn't help us moving forward. What are we supposed to do for the next four suspects? Do we look for someone who sleeps around a lot or maybe someone who is angry all the time? This is Chicago, for G.o.d's sake. I'll just go outside and throw a stone. That should save some time," Preston said as he put the trinket to the side after seeing it had run out. "No, we need to approach this differently. I'll be d.a.m.ned if Argosi is the one who solves this case for us, even if he's somehow in on it."

"Maybe that's who we should be focusing on then," Jack said, writing something down on the pad of paper. "He does seem to know a lot."

"Yeah," Preston said. "It just doesn't make sense. If the guy is manufacturing Bloodstrife, then why put yourself at risk by handing it over to the cops? We found way too much evidence in that place, none of which appears to be linked to either Myers-Echowan or Argosi."

"Not yet anyway. They're still poring over it," Jack emphasized. "Maybe the guy sent us there to be killed. We did barely make it out of there alive. After the first fiasco with the Bloodstrife tubes, the guy knows us pretty well. He knew we'd be gung-ho enough to go there without backup to start."

"Then why not send us to a factory that really was abandoned? They could kill us in an ambush and not risk the supply," Preston added.

"You said it yourself, to that reporter. Someone is losing money on this, big time. Maybe it's him." Jack started to write something else on his notepad.

"I'm not even sure of that anymore; not after last night." Preston's memory flashed to the moment he saw Gluttony's blood-stained teeth so close to his face that it filled his entire line of vision while the monster held him in the air. He shuddered at the thought.

"That place was pretty sophisticated-and expensive," Jack added.

"True," Preston said, snapping out of it, "but let's say I was right before and they really are losing their shirts over this. What could they possibly have to gain by turning the great unwashed of Chicago into furious addicts? Even if they didn't know the true cost of business right off the bat, they would have found out and discontinued production before now. It's been quite a few months." Preston began organizing the piles as best he could. "h.e.l.l, do you think they're trying to turn people into monsters like him-Gluttony, I mean?"

"The answer to that question might be more important than finding out what the catalyst is," Jack said, scribbling something down furiously as he spoke. "Regardless, I'm going to try and follow the money stream for now. My gut might be telling me different, but it always comes down to cash, even in this crazy case."

"I'm going to wait here for a while and see if they come back with anything useful. I won't wait long, though. Another trip to the factory probably lies in my near future," Preston said, settling back in his chair. "I'd just prefer to wait until they've taken care of the smell first."

"You know, you can take a little time off," Jack said, pointing toward his neck as he made his way toward the door. "A lot of cops would have taken about a month off after what we went through."

"Not a chance," Preston said with a small grin.

"Works for me," Jack offered with a laugh. "While we're waiting for them to tie up all the loose ends at the factory, I'll search through the database to find anyone with any of the five remaining tattoos. Care to make any wagers?"

"I'll bet you a dollar you don't find them in the database," Preston said casually. "These people have never been in the system before-guaranteed."

"You're on. Tell you what-this won't take all day. If we don't find anything by this afternoon, let's pay Argosi a visit."

"d.a.m.n it," Preston said nonchalantly. "I hate talking to that guy."

"I can't think of a better way to see if he's in on it. Sometimes the best way to strike a man is where he lives." Jack stopped, worried he had crossed a line. Neither said anything for a few moments before Jack continued, "I'll be back later." Nervously, he scuttled out of the room.

Preston sighed after his partner left. That was the best place to strike. He knew that all too well.

Preston marveled in awe as he sat in the pa.s.senger seat of Jack's car, watching the filthy city thin and then disappear. He hadn't been out to the country since his wife left him. It seemed like twenty years ago.

The sun glaring in his eyes made him think back to his younger days working as a beat cop, traversing the city by day in a marked police car that commanded equal amounts of respect and distain from the people of Chicago. Lately, all the action had been happening at night-all the heart stopping, verge of death action. Preston couldn't imagine a better way to get some relaxation than a drive in the country, even if they were going to see a man who probably deserved to be investigated as soon as possible.

The investigation continued to shuffle between the highest peaks and the lowest valleys. Whenever a mound of evidence would pile up, gleaning something useful from it proved exceedingly difficult. As expected, none of the sin tattoos had shown up in the police registry. Furthermore, evidence gathering work at the factory was still proceeding slowly because of the smell and other potential health hazards.

The presence of noxious chemicals used in the production process posed a significant fire risk. Understandably, the manufacturing equipment wasn't exactly up to code.

That afternoon, Preston had been told by a few Unis that the bas.e.m.e.nt was already much better than it had been the night before. Industrial cleaners had made the floor spotless, smelling of a thick artificial lemon. From what he understood, most of the flies were gone as well.

The detective was so glad he was in charge and didn't have to deal with the smell until later. It was almost as if it still clung to him, even as they drove through the open country. He tried inconspicuously to sniff his sleeve. Jack noticed.

Regardless, Preston imagined that things were going to get worse before they got better.

"Do you ever think about what you're going to do after the case wraps?" Jack asked, his eyes obscured by sungla.s.ses. "I mean, if anyone needs a vacation, it's you."

"Crime never takes a vacation," Preston offered sardonically with a mischievous smirk.

"Christ," Jack said with a laugh. "That answer is so cliche it makes me sick." After a few moments of silence, Jack resurrected the issue. "Maybe you should talk to your ex again, huh? I mean, if you don't have the stress of the case-"

"If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone for the rest of the drive?" Preston said, beginning to feel his stress level rising again. It was a sore subject, and his partner knew it.

"You're the boss," Jack said as he turned on the radio.

They drove without conversation for another ten minutes before reaching the opulent manor of Mr. Benton Argosi on the outskirts of the city. Preston could see it shining like an emerald castle on the hill as the car progressed up the curved road.

Thinking about how far they had traveled, Preston reasoned that a man like Argosi would want to be out of the city, but just close enough to get there should a financial crisis strike. He also thought the man might be like Mr. Burns, sitting all alone in his palace with a manservant who'd jump his bones at the first sign of interest. Preston tried to hide the smile from Jack. The last thing he needed was to try and explain such a line of reasoning aloud.

Mentally speaking, Preston stopped in his tracks. Thoughts began to brew again. Perhaps Jack was right about his ex-wife. Carol had to have made some progress since he last saw her at the legal proceedings. Hopes of getting back together were certainly out of the question, but leaving that big of a hole in his life just seemed wrong. That's because it is, the Detective added.

Her eyes were a deep hazel that had never shown quite as brightly at the legal proceeding. Her hair had been held back in a tight ponytail, slightly unkempt and she clearly didn't care about her appearance. She'd been a shadow, barely the woman he loved-had loved.

It was hard to imagine how long she'd been crying. Every day, when he first laid eyes upon her, she looked as if she'd already been sobbing from the moment she'd woken up. He tried to picture her without tears at some point in their life together, but the memories never surfaced. Even the old photos, wedding pictures, family gatherings, all of them were packed away in some box, probably buried beneath a pile of freshly drawn sketches in his apartment.

A glint of sunlight in the side mirror of Jack's car brought him back into focus as the car slowed. For a few minutes, he existed in two worlds, the past and the present. Then, she faded away.

Outside, there was no gate at the entrance to the expansive manor, but Preston cracked another smile as he realized the holes in the ground near the property line were there to accommodate one in the near future. When they pa.s.sed farther onto the grounds, he saw a small bulldozer hidden behind the trees that confirmed his suspicions. Argosi is a smart man and he doesn't have many friends any longer, the Detective thought. A gate might be just what the CEO needed. That, and an army, Preston added privately.

Jack whistled as the house came in to view. "How's that for a vacation getaway?" he offered with light-hearted quality. "A step up from the factory bas.e.m.e.nt, I'd say."

"Come on," Preston said with a smile. "It's not that nice."

"Well, I haven't been out to Chateau Burroughs in a while, but I'm guessing you've made some changes to your two bedroom apartment that I'm not aware of." Jack was still facing forward, staring through the windshield and trying to get a better look at the mansion as they approached. "Where did you find room for the swimming pool?"

"Right next to the washer and dryer," Preston said dryly. "It really pulls the room together."

Jack chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road as they drove forward.

They traveled through a line of elm trees, following the road that had remained perfectly straight since arriving on the grounds. The front part of the mansion peeked out from the end of the road as they got closer, then shot into view as they cleared the last of the trees.

The mansion was coated in a white stucco exterior clean enough to have been applied yesterday. Two marble pillars held up the entryway over the front door and, judging by the number of windows Preston could see dotting the house, Argosi had about twenty times more rooms than he could ever possibly need, even if he had the entirety of the Chicago elite over for nightly parties.

"If you have to live in isolation, this is where I'd want to be," Jack said, virtually speaking Preston's thoughts aloud.

A servant was waiting for them outside as they pulled up. Next to him, a silver Rolls-Royce shined radiantly in the sun. Jack made sure to get nowhere near the vehicle as he slowly pulled the car into what he hoped was a parking s.p.a.ce on the unmarked driveway the size of a parking lot. Jack continued to stare at the car to his left as he turned off the ignition, and the two detectives exited. Preston smiled to himself again as the butler made his way over to them. He supposed he would be the perfect complement to Mr. Burns.

The servant was a little older than Jack and Preston judging by the graying hair. He seemed like a man who had been bred to do it. His face was wrinkled, but something about him seemed to show a man who loved what he did. Preston knew he personally hadn't exhibited that look in years.

"Greetings, gentlemen," the servant said with monotone temperament. "Mr. Argosi is expecting you in the main hall. Right this way, please."

Pa.s.sing under the entryway suspended by the pillars while still outside, Preston took a look backward, seeing how far they had come. Chicago glowed in the sun on the horizon. The flat earth outside of the city spread out like an emerald tapestry dotted with trees and smaller buildings. It stretched for miles between the metropolis and the line of foliage along the road, ending just a few feet in front of him.

From there, the city wasn't screaming. From there, it looked clean. Preston realized why Argosi was really living out there. It was beautiful. Don't you mean a beautiful illusion? the Detective asked.

Their shoes clacked on the marble floors as they followed the man inside.

After moving through the first room, they were guided down a large hallway. The echoes of their shoes stopped immediately as they walked over what appeared to be a Persian rug with an abstract image woven throughout. The hallway was overly s.p.a.cious, but the lack of an echo made it feel down to size.

They noticed immediately there were several masks mounted on plaques as they made their way past the atrium and into the heart of the house. Most were a chalky white, each displaying a different expression. The emotions presented were labeled beneath them-happiness, anger, and sorrow. The last one hit Preston the hardest, identifying with the over-exaggerated feeling it presented. He pictured Jack seeing that expression in himself a year and half ago. Preston shuddered as he caught up to the other two men.

Making their way into an expansive living room with several couches and a large flat-screen TV, they saw Argosi sitting calmly, reading a weathered, time-worn book.

Across from him, on the opposing couch, was a knock-out brunette, practically falling out of her intentionally tight dress. Money certainly does buy some nice things, doesn't it?

Preston immediately made a conscious effort to silence the Detective. He'd been making comments all morning, almost never related to the case.

The room itself seemed nondescript. Aside from the basic necessities, there was nothing else present. The walls were bare; the drapes were white and thin. Aside from the couch and a small table facing the TV, the room was virtually empty.

"Gentlemen," Argosi said almost happily, "welcome. Here, this is Alexandra."

She was a gorgeous example of feminine grace that Preston a.s.sumed came at a high price, knowing her company. Her hair was a dark brown, virtually black. She looked to have a darker skin tone as well, probably a mix of Asian and European heritage. Her feminine features were exquisite, and although he wasn't a plastic surgeon, she looked to have been born with all of her beauty. You're thinking of Pride, aren't you? the Detective asked, popping up again without warning.

Preston stuffed the thoughts of the crime scene photos away, almost offended at himself.

Both men shook her hand and introduced themselves. She then planted a small kiss on Argosi's cheek after the introductions were over. The woman headed toward the atrium with a stride that Preston couldn't help but notice as she left.

"Tell me when you're finished," she said, turning around and blowing Argosi another kiss. Preston quickly turned his eyes away, hoping she hadn't seen him leering. When he turned back to her, she was still facing him. She winked at him without anyone else noticing, then departed.

Argosi was dressed more casually than they had seen him in the past. He wore a gray polo shirt and khakis. Without sleeves, it was easier to see the Rolex on his left arm as it glinted in the sunlight coming through the floor to ceiling windows. At his mansion, the man seemed more relaxed. His hair wasn't br.i.m.m.i.n.g with dried sweat, nor did he appear tired. A full five years had been taken off his face, something Preston knew to be temporary. All told, there was just something about him that seemed content.

"You seem a little happier than when we last saw you," Jack said to Argosi, trying to make sure his attention was focused on him. "Kind of like one of those masks in the hall."

"You saw those, huh? They're called Noh masks," Argosi said with a smile, clearly loving the opportunity to talk about his art. "They're used in j.a.panese Kabuki Theater. On your way out, take another look at them. The expression changes depending on the angle you view it from. Just because it says 'Happiness' or 'Sorrow' beneath it, doesn't mean that's what you'll see. It may just mean you aren't looking at it in the right way." He paused contemplatively. "Or perhaps you'll realize that you were all along."

"You have a refined taste, Mr. Argosi," Jack said, b.u.t.tering him up. "You should be happy." Preston could see both men hated each other, but they engaged in pleasantries because it was expected of them. They held their gaze for a few moments too long, wolves vying for dominance.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he replied casually. "The two of you taking down that factory is the first good news I've had in a long time. When the board of directors heard my name a.s.sociated with the police bust, they couldn't have been happier. Now, neither can I." He paused for a moment and smiled. "I'm sure it doesn't compare to how the two of you must feel, though. This is the first big break, right?"

Preston had to admit he was right, and offered a thin smile in return. Argosi beckoned them to join him and have a seat.

"So, what can I do for you today?"

Jack produced a small evidence bag from his pocket. Inside was a smartphone that had been recovered at the factory along with a mult.i.tude of other evidence. The Unis had dropped it off shortly before they were about leave for the mansion. It wasn't a surprise to either of them. Myers-Echowan had already explained where it came from. The two detectives just wanted to see what the CEO had to say.

"We're still running a check of the numbers on it, but the only lead we've been able to get is the name of the company it's registered to."

"Is it the Phillips Corporation again? I haven't been able to find any other factories myself, but you know I'll be on the lookout even more now," Argosi added with what appeared to be genuine enthusiasm.

"No," Preston said. "It's registered to Myers-Echowan."

Both men were focused on Argosi's face, trying to gauge his reaction. The revelation clearly caught him by surprise, but it wasn't fear that Preston saw in him, it was more like disbelief.

"Can you explain this?" Jack asked coolly, as if a friend were asking an innocent question.

"No," he said, drawing out his answer. Argosi's eyes drifted upward, a sign usually indicative of uncertainty rather than deceit. "I mean, it must have been stolen as well. Yes. Now I recall there were a few miscellaneous items stolen along with those first test tubes you found. If you check the police report from that case, I'm sure you'll find it registered there."

"We're having some people look into it now," Preston said, having already confirmed that to be the case. "We just wanted to hear any theories you might have in the meantime," Preston finished with a smile. Both detectives had agreed to try and treat Argosi as a helpful citizen as opposed to suspect. It was clearer now. Argosi didn't seem like he was covering anything up. It was more like he was rationalizing. Perhaps, the Detective added, finally offering some relevant input.

Argosi seemed to pick up on Preston's attempt at kindness, and a visible wave of relief washed over him.

"Well, right now, I'd say that if we can connect any of the phone numbers in there with the Phillips corporation, then it shouldn't be too difficult to track down any other factories they have."

"Word spreads on the street fast. The news broadcast didn't help matters much either," Jack said plainly. "Whoever runs this operation no doubt knows that this factory went down. They'll be moving things around quickly."

Argosi seemed to think for a moment, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

"Then that's what you'll need to look for-moving equipment, trucks, that kind of thing."

"To think, they call us detectives," Preston said sarcastically. Jack shot him a crude look, hoping that he could remind him to treat Argosi with at least some semblance of feigning respect.

Argosi didn't seem fazed by it. At the very least, it meant he was right.

"Are you sick, Detective Burroughs?" After seeing Preston's confused reaction, he clarified himself. "Your voice-you sound a little under the weather."

"Don't worry, I'm fine," Preston responded, trying not to subconsciously hide the redness of his neck. The marks of Gluttony's fingers weren't as p.r.o.nounced as they had been, but Preston still felt as if Argosi were staring at them.

"Well, gentlemen, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?" he said.

For the better part of the next hour, the three men conversed at length about the case. They went into more detail about how the CEO had managed to come across information pertaining to the factory. He reinforced his story about studying the electrical grid, something which had panned out in CPD's own investigation.

However, his ideas for future seizures were spotty at best. It appeared the only reliable information they were going to get out of the CEO had been used up for the first bust.

As the discussion wound down, Alexandra's voice traveled in from the atrium. The three men could hear a shower running somewhere in the house not far away as her voice drew closer.