"Any progress?" Back at the FBI's operations center, the room was packed with analysts, just like last time.
It was Hannah's first time witnessing such a bustling scene in the large office. Having joined less than a week ago, she was still used to her previous experience in the Los Angeles office, where she led a small team, working independently on cases. Back then, technical support was available but often stretched across multiple cases, and only specialized surveillance teams were solely dedicated to one assignment.
The reason Dana Mozier's operations center could run so intensively was that most of the technicians here weren't official agents.
Some were FBI employees, while others came from the NYPD or other agencies, each having partial access to their respective databases. This setup in the joint operations center greatly minimized data turnaround time and the need for individual access requests.
"We have results from facial recognition. We scanned photos from several... uh... escort platforms and found Haley's image among the ads."
Jubal gestured, and an analyst projected a heavily made-up photo onto the large screen. Jack squinted at it for a while, finally connecting the glamorous face on the screen with the bruised and battered girl he'd just seen in the hospital.
"Ahem. As you all know, each photo contains hidden metadata that records the camera settings and software information. So, we used the parameters from this photo to search for similar ones and found images of nine other girls."
Though the atmosphere was serious, Jack couldn't help but smile slightly; Jubal's "as you all know" was clearly covering his lack of tech knowledge. It seemed like he'd just been briefed on this process and couldn't resist showing off.
Suppressing a chuckle, Jack continued, "We cross-referenced all Ukrainian visa entries and found matches for everyone."
"This group wasn't using any photo editing software, luckily for us, or our search would have been a lot harder."
Looking at the comparison images on the screen, Jack felt a sharp bitterness. The wooded graveyard alone held eighteen bodies, and from Haley's account, these nine girls were just the tip of the iceberg.
"How's the investigation on the 911 call going?" Hannah shouted. She didn't know who was handling it, but the benefit of the big conference room was that everyone could hear if she raised her voice a bit.
"Got it!" An analyst in glasses turned from his computer, momentarily stunned by Hannah's looks. "Uh, the recording was made three days ago. The john actually called 911... and even used his own cell phone."
---
"A firefighter? Great, let's keep this from the NYPD guys," Jack smirked as he read the caller's info on his phone. Beside him, Hannah elbowed him with an unimpressed look.
Apparently, police and firefighters didn't get along in many American cities. At least in New York and Los Angeles, rivalry was standard, though no one was quite sure why.
Jack was soon face-to-face with Owen Strand, the fire captain he'd rescued before. The man's expression darkened when Jack explained why they were there.
"I'm going to skin this idiot alive."
Strand had every reason to be furious. In this country, firefighters enjoyed significant popularity and were highly admired—especially in terms of dating prospects. In New York, where "fast" dating was the norm, few women would refuse to spend a night with a firefighter.
Captain Strand couldn't understand why one of his men would stoop to such behavior, and the firefighter he called into his office went pale upon hearing the FBI's reason for being there.
"Listen, we're not here to pass moral judgment," Jack quickly assured the man, trying to alleviate his fears of losing his job, though Hannah was rolling her eyes behind him.
"I... I was only trying to help. I'm not as good at socializing as others. Every time I try to ask a girl out, I get nervous," the firefighter stammered in explanation.
"So, you thought throwing some cash around was a shortcut past the dating stage, huh?" Captain Strand's face twisted with frustration; if it weren't for the FBI agents, he'd have torn the man apart himself.
For the sake of the man's brief pang of conscience, Jack chose not to press further, though Haley had mentioned that this guy was a regular, which made him a repeat offender.
"We just need the addresses. Every single club you visited, every place where you might have seen Haley. We need every location, no exceptions."
---
"So, was that a psychological trick back there, or were you really sympathizing with that repulsive guy?"
Hannah couldn't help but tease Jack as they left the firehouse and got back into the Suburban. She had faith in Jack's standards, knowing he wouldn't pay for that kind of thing. But she wondered if he might make an exception for a free encounter.
"You know I'm not exactly the aggressive type, so there's no way I'd sympathize with someone like him," Jack replied, distancing himself from the idea.
Satisfied, Hannah leaned in, intending to give him a kiss to apologize for her doubts, but then thought something seemed off. Jack's response suggested he didn't mind taking opportunities if they came to him. Furious, she opted to bite him instead, leaving him yelping in pain.
In the past, keeping an eye on Jack had been more Jeje's job, but since she'd considered leaving the BAU, it would be hard for her to come back. So, after discussing it with Hannah, they'd decided she'd be the one to "sacrifice" her time to look after him.
---
An hour later, in Queens.
Even though they'd prepared themselves for the worst, Jack and Hannah couldn't hide their disappointment when they followed the FBI-SWAT team into a mansion only to find it empty.
"Okay, got it. Notify CSI to come in; we have a lot of DNA evidence to collect here."
Jack ended his call with Danny Reagan, who confirmed that NYPD's raid on a Brooklyn townhouse had also come up empty.
Judging from the traces at both sites, the traffickers had left in a hurry, leaving behind a lot of evidence. But DNA analysis and evidence processing would take time, and time was the one thing those trafficked girls didn't have.
"Jack, there's a basement here," Hannah called as she opened a discreet door and discovered a staircase leading downward.
"Be careful." Jack walked quickly over, signaling for two SWAT team members to follow.
The group descended the staircase. The basement was large, excavated beneath the entire mansion and divided into rooms of various sizes.
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