Detective Lycan and the Lost Trinkets of Istanbul

This is a story about mystery and culture, but more importantly, reunion. Desired reunions that keep our hero up at night in hopes to finish what is unfinished.

It was a dark winter night in downtown Indianapolis. The Indiana State Museum was shipping out some exhibitions that were covered by crates. By the time the trucks had left out from the back, the curator had exited out of the front doors. He walked beside the canal parallel to the road in which a mysterious shadow was walking from far away, with each step they took, coming closer. It wasn’t until they reached under the bridge that they crossed paths. The curator never cared to look across the canal, unlike the man who, once he saw the curator, pulled out a gun with his dark-gloved hand, and a bullet was heard echoing down the canal. As police were rushing to get to the bridge, they heard another bullet echo. Three cops reached the victim from the left. Two arrived from crossing the bridge above. Nothing could be seen as police tape had covered the entire area. IMPD chief Karson Vargas, who was watching a movie on the couch in the living room with his wife, received a call from the department. He seemed displeased when he picked up the phone. “What do you want?! I’m with my wife!” “Chief,  we have a murder scene at the canal under the bridge.” “Just check the surveillance footage.” “Someone is overriding it,” the department says as the computer is showing a message in a foreign language. The chief arrives quickly to the scene. Once again, the crime scene is covered by police tape and the shades of the night sky. As Vargas observes, he insists to “call the FBI.” “Chief, the message is in a foreign language, indicating that this is an international crime, this is beyond the FBI’s jurisdiction. If we don’t have the material to solve this case, our only option is to call in a private investigator. One who knows this place and is able to look into the minds of international criminals.” As each officer was saying this, the spark in Vargas’s head was brightening, until he put together an idea. “Detective Lycan is in Chicago as we speak. Not too far away and this IS his home state.” “You really want a world-class detective to get involved in this? Can’t we just hire a social research officer?” “I don’t see any harm. My wife, she’s a big fan of this guy.”

Detective Morgan Lycan is world-class but has a larger reputation in Turkey for having caught Bora Tarcan, a dangerous mob boss of whom he heard of seven years prior when he was only a CIA agent thirteen years ago. Despite Tarcan having been secured at the cost of several agents’ lives and shipped overseas, he escaped when he arrived in the States with his set of exceptional crime skills that only Tanner was aware of. It was only Tanner’s unorthodox methods of investigation, such as thinking outside the box and having imaginative and unrealistic hypothesis writings, that he could catch the master criminal. To this day, he is still the most dangerous criminal he had ever faced, and the reason why Morgan has trouble sleeping at night.  As the unit of the Indiana Metropolitan Police Department is on hold, the detective is guest speaking at the University of Chicago for criminology and psychology students.

“It is within several decades of the existence of our society that we have recorded the likes of criminal activities and input them into statistical data. We can determine the age range, race, percentage, and types of motives of each crime. For instance, more than 75% of serial arsonists tend to average below the age of 30 and are white males. We can use that when looking over a list of possible suspects. We can also determine the motive in case we suspect that person did it for a cause and is not a need-for-pleasure pyromaniac. We can also easily determine the motive of a bomber depending on where he or she strikes. If it’s in a subway or any area around a large city, it’s a terrorist bombing, caused by the motive of striking fear in civilians. If it’s in a place of controversial activity, such as an abortion clinic, it’s a political bombing, caused by the motive of giving a message or a passionate opinion. If it’s at a specific house, or even when I sense a pattern, this person has a direct motive and makes it easier to catch once I can track this pattern down. Any questions?” As Morgan asked a question for a question, several students raised their hands. One asked, “These categories, such as age, race, motive, is it usually the same coming-together?” “These are the types of categories that we need to statistically puzzle together. As Gandhi said, ‘No two people are alike, yet there is much that is indispensably common to all mankind’.” Another student asked, “What if the statistics go outside of the average?” “See, that’s the source of my methods: imagination. Thinking outside the box. The world changes with time, and so should our minds.” 

He went on answering several questions. In the end, he was signing copies of his book, Solving Cases Outside the Criminal Mindset. His phone rang and he answered. “Dr. Lycan, this is Chief Vargas of the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department. How would you like to return to your home state for a case?” Morgan arrives at downtown Indianapolis and walks to the IMPD station. As he walks, he looks down the several streets that he remembers having walked down as a child. “Dr. Lycan,” says Vargas as he walks up to Morgan. “Chief Vargas,” greeted Morgan as he recognized his voice from the phone call. “Thank you for having me here in Indy. It’s a pleasure to be back in my home state.” “It’s my pleasure to welcome you. My wife is a big fan of yours.” “Not a fan of fans, chief. You never know what you’re appreciated about. It challenges your self-esteem. I do my job for the major purpose of passion and enthusiasm. So what do we know at the current moment regarding this case?” Vargas walked with Morgan to a forensics lab. “When they enter, the first thing they see is the covering of a dead body. “His name was Michael Brent. He was the curator of the Indiana State Museum. He was killed last night under the bridge at the canal here in downtown. Surveillance was overridden. Our unit overheard two bullets echoing and they raced down. And this is what we saw,” he says as he uncovers the body. Morgan sees a pale corpse with a bullet to the head and the other to the chest. “Any photographs?” he responds. Vargas projects one onto the wall. The photograph shows Brent lying dead leaning on the wall under the bridge with his eyes wide open. Morgan paces around the lab in loops. “Doctor?” questions Vargas. “My apologies, chief. This is simply the way I think. I don’t know yet but one can’t be sure about the enigma of the mind.” “Proceed then.” Morgan was imagining himself in the street by the canal. He was also looking back at the photograph. He remembered the details of the place from his childhood. He started slouching on the floor. 

“The victim was shot in the chest first. As you can see, the gunshot was on the left side of his chest, the right side from our point of view. It’s possible that when he was walking, he kept looking to the front and never turned. The killer must’ve wanted him to see them. So they shot at the perfect angle for them to fall back and see them. After he widely opened his eyes, possibly in shock, it was enough to have been rid of. And so…” he makes a gunshot noise and points to his head. “You mentioned that ‘they raced down’ which indicates that you weren’t with them at the time being. Where were you exactly?” “I was at my house watching a movie with my wife. If you want, she’s a journalist specializing in crime.” “Would it not make sense to have her in once we’ve solved the case?” “The company she works for is licensed to gossip. Not that she does it.” “I suppose we’ll need someone to be able to interview undercover.”

The night sky fell once again. At an apartment in the city, the door opened and a mysterious figure entered. His face was not seen, but we know his hand reaches a cell phone and dials. He speaks in a foreign language. “Your Greatness, I have succeeded in the murder of the curator. But our plan has backfired. There are rumors of Detective Lycan.” “There is no need to panic. As long as he’s on to me, I have him under my strings. All shipments from the city have been put on hold. We have a chance to get the jewels back, but it’s not enough for me to catch the detective’s eye. He must know that I mean seriousness.”

It was the next morning. Morgan had arrived early to greet Vargas and his wife, who is also named Vargas. He stands out in the front, seeing Vargas’s car pass by. The car parks as Vargas comes out after Morgan walks up to his door. “Chief.” They shake hands. As Mrs. Vargas comes out her door, Chief Vargas is introducing her. “Detective Lycan, this is my wife, journalist Caitlin Vargas. When Morgan turned around to her direction, he could not believe his eyes! It was his old high school crush/sweetheart Caitlin Weber. He was in shock as her beauty was a sight that he had not seen in twenty years. They had interacted during a school trip to Sofia, Bulgaria in the winter. After that, they continued to talk to each other in high school, but after she had graduated and left, he never saw her again, until now anyway. “Mrs. Vargas,” he greeted. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Thank you! The honor is all mine!” said Caitlin as Morgan gives a nervous smile. He had remembered how happy and positive she was and was he glad to see that it never died out. Yet he wondered if she still remembered him, and if so, does she remember the joyous times they had together? 

Morgan is beginning to explain to Caitlin about case regulations. “Here’s the deal. You will have some restrictions such as classified information and where you’re permitted to be. Other than that, we’re glad to have your company.” “Thank you detective Lycan!” she said. “We must hurry. The flight delays won’t last long, so we need to catch the culprit before he leaves,” said Vargas. Morgan had to get to know the independent variable of the case, a.k.a, the murderer. “Do we know anything about him?” “We can’t exactly tell if it’s him, but two days prior to the curator, a museum employee was killed under the bridge, and a week before, a regular civilian.” “He’s escalating. If he wanted the curator to see him, he wants to show that he’s a threat that’s not to be underestimated.” “He sent us a message that was immediately erased. It was in a foreign language.” “Then he’s not working alone. Shall we proceed to the canal under the bridge?”

They walked to the murder scene. Vargas and Caitlin stood in the grass-hill that’s beside the bridge. Morgan stood in front of the scene, and that’s all that he was doing. He thought to himself, “If he killed a civilian, then the curator, perhaps he wants this crime to be investigated. The chief is his target. So the next person he’ll kill is either a cop or…” He was in shock. “Mrs. Vargas! Stand over here.” Caitlin stood where the curator was shot. Morgan didn’t like this plan as he was putting her in danger. It was the first time he was hesitant about a risk. He walked to the grass hill. Just then, a man walked by at the other side of the canal and pulled out a gun. “Duck!” Morgan yelled. Caitlin quickly ducked as the shadow shot through the wall. Morgan took out his gun and with no hesitation shot the mysterious figure in his leg, taking him down. “I’ll secure Mrs. Vargas. Arrest him!” Vargas ran across the bridge and cuffed the shooter. “Are you okay?” “I’m okay! Thanks for alerting me!” said Caitlin. “I’m sorry about putting you on the scene,” said Morgan. “It’s okay, detective. At least now we have him.”

At the interrogation room, Morgan was alone with the shooter. “Why did you shoot the curator on the night he was shipping out exhibitions?” “The exhibitions are trinkets, brought from Turkey. They belonged to Bora Tarcan, but your CIA officials took them on the day you took him.” Morgan stood with a fearful expression. Bora Tarcan, his most dangerous enemy, was back. “Why don’t you get him in Istanbul, detective?” “He will come to me. I will not be weakened like you did by making a deal with him.” “Suit yourself,” the man said with an eerie smile.

Morgan went to Vargas, who saw through a camera. “We can’t let Bora come. It would put my civilians in danger. The three of us must go to Istanbul and face him ourselves, for my wife’s safety.” They took Morgan’s jet and journeyed to Istanbul. They arrived at night. “I rented a small house to stay in,” said Vargas. At the house, Vargas had to leave for a meeting with the local police. Morgan saw Caitlin sitting in the dining room, writing her next story. She turned around with a gorgeous smile. “Hey, detective! How’re you doing?” “Good. Good. Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to have a talk about what’s going to be on the story for this case.” “Sure! But Morgan, you do remember me, right?” “Of course, Caitlin. How could I forget? It’s just that I need to act professionally in cases.” Morgan became extremely happy that she talked to him like they would back in high school. “I especially remember our trip to Bulgaria, much like this one.” “Same! That adventurous feeling! I’m happy that you still have it and I’m happy for you becoming a detective!” “You know Caitlin, I… I missed you dearly.” “Aww! That’s sweet!” Morgan looked down to the floor, knowing that she was married, thus he could no longer speak his feelings. As a small camera from the ceiling zoomed in on them, Morgan got a call from Vargas. “Detective. We need you here immediately.” Morgan stood, worried for Caitlin. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Caitlin shook her head yes. As Morgan walked down the dark streets, he started to remember the camera from the dining room. He also flashbacked to when Vargas mentioned having rented a house with the plan to go to Istanbul. “Caitlin!!” he yelled as he ran back. But it was too late as several men broke in to kidnap Caitlin. As Morgan arrives, he hears a recorded message on the phone. It was the deep, croaky voice of Bora Tarcan. “If you want the girl, you will come to the oil rig near the docks.” 

Morgan raced to the docks without anyone in the way. He knew it was a trap to make a bargain with the crime lord. Caitlin was found tied to ropes. “Show yourself, ‘Vargas’!” Vargas came out with the same brown trench coat and fedora as Bora Tarcan. “Look at yourself,” he said with the voice of Tarcan. “You knew that it was dangerous to make a bargain with me, yet so desperate to protect the one you love. I knew from Bulgaria that you had loved her. So I tracked her down when I arrived in the States. I waited many years until I once again had access to my trinkets. Thanks to you, detective, I have regained my throne. Now you will die knowing that you came so close to having her again, yet to lose her for the last time. You should have never left the CIA, you would have had help.” Morgan turned to Caitlin. “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay,” she whispered, smiling. Just then, the CIA arrived and targeted all threats on sight. “How?!” yelled Tarcan. “I had my camera live,” said Caitlin, with a smirk. As Morgan was distracted by his task to protect Caitlin, Tarcan aimed at an oil barrel before the agents took him and served justice before anyone could get hurt. 

Morgan and Caitlin were back in the dining room. She kept looking at Morgan and away. “Tarcan said something back there. He said you loved me.” “It’s true. It was simply our similar sense of wonder and joy. I was glad you still have it,” Morgan said with a relieved smile. “Hey. When we return home, do you want to … grab a bite sometime?” Caitlin gave the same gorgeous smile, blushing. “I’d love that!”

The news came on back in Indiana with Caitlin speaking as a reporter. “I’m standing by the canal where this all happened. Former Chief Vargas was revealed to have been Bora Tarcan, a Turkish crime boss taken down by the world’s greatest detective!” After the news, Morgan was with his high school friend, Bryan Miller. “With his death, mobs in former Soviet countries will likely take control of Turkey. This could start something like a crime war.” “If that ever happens, you’ll be there to stop them, with me by your side.” “It’s good to see you again, Bryan. I would’ve turned down your help, but I see now that anyone on your side is there for you, even on dangerous missions.”