"So what do we do now?" Sam asked as the Impala moved through the streets of Los Angeles.
At least they had finally confirmed the rumors. The man people were calling an angel was Henry. Unfortunately, that was where the useful information ended.
If the people who took Henry had been government agents, military personnel, or some organized group, finding them would have been easier — there would be records, connections, or at least a pattern to follow.
Instead, according to Ethan's account, it had been a bunch of armed men who arrived before the authorities and took Henry away.
That had happened twelve days ago. For all they knew, Henry wasn't even in Los Angeles anymore.
Dean kept his eyes on the road. "What else? We go talk to the police."
Sam looked over. "The police?"
"Yeah. They won't know who took Henry, but they'll know the local players. Guys who deal in stolen property, kidnappings, protection rackets, that kind of thing. Cops always know who's causing trouble in their city."
Sam considered it. The logic wasn't bad. Whoever took Henry had acted fast. They weren't scientists studying a meteor.
They weren't religious fanatics worshipping an angel. They had seen an opportunity and moved on it.
"They probably thought Henry was valuable," Dean continued. "A guy falls out of the sky surrounded by blue light and carrying weird weapons — to idiots like that, he's either worth money or connected to something worth money."
Sam nodded. Most criminals weren't interested in mysteries. They were interested in profit. And somewhere between the beach and the museum, somebody had decided Henry was worth keeping.
***
Sam and Dean arrived at the Los Angeles Police Department later that afternoon.
After flashing their FBI credentials at the front desk, they were directed toward a detective who had been involved in the response to the beach incident.
As usual, nobody spent more than a few seconds examining their badges. Dean had long ago stopped being surprised by how often that worked.
A few minutes later they were sitting across from Detective Marcus Reed — a tired-looking man with dark skin, short hair, and the expression of someone who had dealt with too much paperwork and too few answers.
"So what exactly do you boys want to know?" Reed asked.
Sam opened a folder. "We're reviewing information related to the beach incident twelve days ago."
The detective sighed. "You're not the first agency to come asking questions."
"We probably won't be the last," Dean replied.
Reed leaned back. "Well, I can't tell you much. We got reports of some kind of impact near the shoreline. By the time officers arrived, there was nothing there."
Dean noticed the slight irritation in his voice. Apparently the LAPD hadn't enjoyed being pushed aside.
"So you didn't find anything unusual?" Sam asked.
"Nothing useful." The answer came a little too quickly.
Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, then casually shifted direction. "We heard some rumors."
That got Reed's attention. "What kind of rumors?"
"That a group of men reached the site before law enforcement arrived."
The detective's expression changed. Not much. Just enough. The rumor had hit something.
"We're not saying anybody screwed up," Sam continued. "We're just trying to establish a timeline."
Reed drummed his fingers against the desk. Several seconds passed.
"Officially, I never said this."
Dean nodded. "Of course."
"There were witness statements. Several people claimed they saw vehicles leaving the area before patrol units arrived."
"What kind of vehicles?"
"Mostly SUVs." Reed opened a drawer and pulled out a file. "None of the witnesses got plates. Most of them were too busy staring at the crater."
Dean almost smiled at that.
"We couldn't prove anything," Reed continued, "but some officers thought a local gang might've been involved."
Sam immediately focused. "Which gang?"
Reed hesitated, then looked at both of them. "The Harbor Kings. They run illegal activity around the docks — smuggling, stolen property, black-market deals. If something valuable suddenly appeared in their territory, they'd take an interest."
Dean nodded slowly. That sounded exactly like the kind of people who would grab an unconscious stranger and figure out his worth later.
"You got a list of known members?" Sam asked.
Reed gave him a look. "FBI asking local police for gang files?"
Dean shrugged. "Humor us."
The detective laughed despite himself. Then he slid a folder across the desk. "I shouldn't be doing this."
"We appreciate the cooperation," Sam said.
Reed pointed a finger at both of them. "I never saw you. And whatever case you're working — make sure it stays your case. Last thing I need is the FBI closing something my department spent days building."
"Understood," Dean said.
They took the folder and left.
As Dean got into the Impala, Sam settled into the passenger seat and opened the file Detective Reed had given them.
For several minutes he silently reviewed the information while Dean pulled away from the station. Most of the file contained exactly what they expected: arrest records, known associates, suspected businesses, and notes from various investigations.
Then Sam reached the section covering the gang's leadership. His eyebrows slowly furrowed.
Dean noticed immediately. "What?"
Sam turned the page toward him. "Look at this."
Dean glanced over at a red light. The file listed four primary leaders within the Harbor Kings.
East King. West King. North King. South King.
Dean frowned. "What the hell kind of naming system is that?"
Sam shrugged. "No idea."
"Sounds like they split the city into territories."
"Probably." Sam continued reading. "Each one controls a different section of their operation. Smuggling routes, warehouses, collections, distribution."
"So we're not looking for one guy."
"Looks like we're looking for four."
Sam kept reading. A few moments later the amusement disappeared from his face.
"Dean."
The tone made Dean focus immediately. "What?"
Sam tapped a paragraph near the bottom of the report. "The Harbor Kings operate several warehouses near the beach."
"According to LAPD, most of their smuggling activity moves through the docks and industrial district near the shoreline."
Sam closed the file. "We should start with the beach territory."
Dean's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. Out of the four names, one immediately stood out.
East King. The section of the city closest to the impact site.
*****
🔥 For Advanced Chapters Join My Patreon 🔥
👉 patreon.com/DeathNote4455
🚀 Get early access to 24 Advanced chapters.