It was the first time Jack had ever seen someone so severely afraid of needles that they would faint dead away at the mere prick of one. While laughing at a moment like this wasn't exactly appropriate, the comedic effect was undeniable.
He helped the fluffy-haired Dix into a chair and pinched the acupuncture point between his nose and lip to wake him up. Dix quickly came to and didn't seem too badly off, which was a relief—if something serious had happened before the operation even began, they'd be facing a setback before they even got started.
Jack left Agent Dix and his partner Kenzie Bly at HQ on standby, then contacted Tim and asked him to take the old crew from the Wilshire Division over to Venice Beach ahead of time to lock down the hotel where Brodman was suspected to be staying.
The reason for mobilizing Tim's group was obvious: compared to the local precinct officers, Jack trusted the Wilshire Division veterans more—after all, they had experience dealing with a bioterror incident before. It was also a move to prevent any early leaks of information.
Though a leak was bound to happen sooner or later—especially considering the ruckus they'd already caused at the airport yesterday—their goal was to wrap this case up before the media got hold of keywords like "smallpox."
Venice Beach had always been considered one of the best beaches in Los Angeles. It featured a long breakwater protecting a leisure pier, and the boardwalk was lined with quirky boutique shops.
It was also one of the best surfing spots in LA. Every summer, surfers riding the waves and bikini-clad volleyball girls on the beach were a constant tourist draw.
Of course, another sport was popular here year-round: street basketball. The VBL held here was a nationally known streetball league.
In Jack's past life, an outbreak had turned Venice Beach into a massive homeless encampment. The LA city government launched several clean-up efforts, but by the time Jack had crossed over, the situation was still unresolved. They had pretty much given up.
Things were clearly better in this world. Even though it was January and the LA temperature wasn't exactly warm, tourists in floral shirts and beach shorts still roamed the sand in droves. Hardcore sunbathers could even be seen basking on the beach.
By the time the crew arrived, Tim and John had already brought in the LAPD hazardous materials unit and sealed off the entire hotel. But they'd come up empty-handed—Brodman wasn't in the room. Only a travel bag filled with clothes remained.
The good news was that hotel surveillance confirmed Brodman had indeed checked in the night before, and the CDC arrived quickly to confirm that there was no viral contamination in the room.
"There's more good news. Sharon Walker, the woman who died on the plane, was confirmed to have been poisoned with arsenic, not smallpox. Based on that, we can deduce Brodman's motive for switching the virus probably wasn't to spread it—it was for money."
Karen, having just gotten off the phone with HQ, put her phone away. Though she called it "good news," her face didn't reflect it. Their only lead had just been cut off, which meant Brodman could now vanish into the crowd.
Jack and the two NCIS agents stood outside the hotel, looking at the beachgoers—people completely oblivious to the dark underbelly of this world. None of them felt like speaking.
"Should we lift the lockdown?" John asked, his voice heavy with disappointment as he approached Jack.
Before Jack could answer, two more familiar figures appeared in front of him—Tim Bradford in his uniform, and Angela Lopez, dressed professionally with her long hair down.
"Whoa, Angela?" Jack was startled. It was his first time seeing the usually tomboyish Angela dressed like this, exuding an overwhelming mature woman charm.
"It's the weekend. Wesley and I have a date after work. Sonia offered to watch the kid for the night."
The Sonia she mentioned was the young maid brought back from Mexico by the Wolf brothers (Chapter 485). Maria, the cook, had since become Justin's stepmother, while Sonia seemed to have set her sights on becoming a proper housekeeper.
Angela clearly enjoyed Jack's exaggerated reaction. She might've had a tomboy streak, but she was still a woman who loved looking good.
The girls who normally surrounded Jack were all movie-star-level beauties. To be able to wow him herself gave Angela a rush of pride.
After basking in her moment of triumph, Angela quickly sobered up and said seriously, "I just spoke with the hotel manager. Brodman had no visitors and only booked the room for one night. He kept a low profile, so barely anyone noticed him."
The two guys from Five-O walked back from the direction of the boardwalk. Danny froze when he saw Angela, a classic American-style flirtatious smile appearing on his face.
"This is—"
"This is Angela Lopez, my former instructor and partner at LAPD. Her husband Wesley is also a friend of mine. So maybe wipe the drool off your chin, Uncle Danny."
Jack went on to introduce the stone-faced Tim to the others. Danny, a bit embarrassed, rubbed his nose and stepped aside, while the grinning Chen Hao picked up the thread.
"We asked the nearby vendors. Nothing useful. Though one woman said she saw Jesus fishing off the pier yesterday."
"Welcome to Los Angeles, the vacation paradise of all madmen," Karen quipped.
Tim, who hadn't said a word, gave Jack a chin nod. "So what now? It's not peak tourist season, but finding one specific person in a crowd still won't be easy."
"Maybe we need a little luck." Jack was thinking aloud when a sudden idea struck him. He turned to Angela. "That travel bag Brodman left—did the hotel manager say if he checked out?"
Everyone immediately caught on. John turned to instruct the officers he'd brought. "We need to tear down the barricades and move the cruisers. If he didn't check out, he might be coming back."
"Hold up—maybe our luck's even better than we thought." Karen pointed toward the boardwalk, where a hurried figure had appeared, head down and moving quickly toward them.
"Is that him?" Chen Hao glanced at the nearby police cars, looking incredulous. With all the commotion here, the guy hadn't noticed? And now he was just strolling right into their hands?
"I can confirm." Angela lifted her badge from her belt and shouted from afar, "Jarrod Brodman, LAPD!"
Jarrod Brodman was still walking toward the hotel, about thirty feet away. When he heard that yell, he froze in place, stunned. He looked up and quickly realized something was wrong.
"Looks like it's him." Seeing the guy turn and run, Jack didn't move—because four figures had already taken off beside him: Chen Hao, the big guy Hanna, John, and Angela.
"Five bucks—who are you betting on?" Jack asked, still unmoved. The others also remained still, digging through their pockets.
"Chen Hao."
"Sam (Hanna)."
Danny and Karen both bet on their partners. Always-stoic Tim pulled out a ten-dollar bill with a grin. "I'm betting on LAPD."
"That's cheating—you can only pick one." Jack said this, but he also pulled out five bucks. "I'm going with Angela."
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