Dark Streets, Episode 3

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Entry posted by Macko123456 · March 30, 2013

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Wednesday 18^th April 2012

Day Three

10.00am

Northbeck Hills was one of Brandon’s most exclusive districts, situated to the southwest of Downtown, across the border in Virginia. It was an expanse of luxury villas, swimming pools and tennis courts. The street running through the middle was lined with modern, expensive cars, but there was barely any traffic.

Northbeck Hills

It was at ten in the morning that Theo Leith and Tabitha Goodwin picked up Fiorino Anselmo’s trail, tailing his black Mercedes in Theo’s silver Honda to keep their cover. They wore plain clothes but both carried their guns as a precaution. Anselmo did not head for Hollow, Virginia – where the Aquaria Casino was situated – as expected, but instead took a more northerly route. It was only when his Mercedes failed to turn right past the State Department as they passed the Lincoln Memorial that Leith and Goodwin realised all was not as they had expected it to be. Instead of Virginia, Anselmo was headed east, towards Fort Hook Naval Base. The base was the headquarters of the District's own National Guard protection force and was built at the end of a peninsula that jutted out southward with the Potomac to the west and the Anacostia to the east. To their surprise, the Mercedes pulled into the parking lot outside an abandoned warehouse in the peninsula’s old industrial zone.

The industrial zone

Leith parked his Honda around the corner and they climbed out.

“I’m not sure I like the look of this area,” Goodwin said.

“Don’t worry,” Leith assured her. “We’ve got our weapons and we can always radio for backup if need be.” They strolled along the sidewalk to the parking lot’s entrance. The Mercedes had disappeared into the warehouse itself.

“Theo, look,” Goodwin instructed, pointing to a pair of doors built into the building’s side. “It must have gone in there.” Leith snorted.

“Well, we’re not getting in after it.”

“There must be another way.”

“What about down the side alley?” Leith shrugged.

“I suppose it’s worth a try.” They padded down the alleyway, which was full of bins and rubbish and discarded paper bags. Papers that looked like they might once have been important had been crunched underfoot. About halfway along its length, a window had been cut into the wall of the warehouse. Leith grabbed a nearby recycling bin and tugged it over, wincing at the loud grating sound it made as he moved it. No-one seemed to hear it. With a leg up from Goodwin, he climbed on top of it and peered over the lip of the window. He took his phone out to record the voices from within, though he couldn’t see the speakers.

“Miss Sampson, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” a man with an Italian accent said. Leith glanced down at Goodwin.

“Anselmo’s talking to someone named Miss Sampson.”

“I can only think of one Sampson of note,” Goodwin mused. “And that’s Cassarah, the CEO of the Enjoni Corporation.”

“Why would Anselmo be meeting her?”

“I don’t know. Keep listening.” Leith strained to hear what was being said.

“It has indeed been very quick,” Sampson was saying. “I’ve been impressed with your efficiency. What exactly have you uncovered for me?”

“Stroud have guessed you’re going to try and take them over. They’re looking to find ways of chipping away at your market so you never get the chance. Their annual expo, which is being held tomorrow, will feature the premiere of a new phone with an embedded USB system. I don’t believe any of your models offer such a capability.”

“Never mind that,” Sampson snapped. “That’s a very valuable piece of information, and rest assured you will be paid handsomely for it. How did you get it?”

“I think it’s better off if you don’t know.”

“Probably. Well, thank you for doing this for me. I look forward to working with you soon.” Leith ended the voice recording and dropped down from on top of the bin.

“Well?” Goodwin prompted. He brought up the file and they listened to it. “I’ve heard of Stroud and Enjoni,” she said, when it finished. “From my days in IT. They’re both technology companies and they’ve been in the news a lot recently. If I remember correctly, Enjoni – the smaller of the two – is looking to lever Stroud into a position where they can buy them out.”

“So it would make sense for Sampson to hire Anselmo to look for weaknesses in Stroud,” Leith realised. “Good work, DI Goodwin.”

“Maybe not,” Goodwin lamented. “We don’t have anything to pin on him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yes, we have a recording of the meeting, but Anselmo’s a smart man. He was probably aware that they might have been bugged and he chose not to tell Sampson how he acquired the information. For all we know, he might have just got it off the Internet.” Leith frowned.

“I highly doubt it.”

“But we can’t prove it.” There was a pause. He sighed.

“You’re right, of course. Still, let’s get back to the car. We’ll take it to Harmon and see what he says.”

12.30pm

Downtown at midday

So it was that Leith found himself in DCI Leonard Harmon’s office, which was a small room adjoining the main office floor of the Central Precinct Police Station. The walls were lined with bookcases and there was a desk in the centre, facing the entrance. Harmon was sitting back in the swivel chair behind it with his feet up on it. Leith and Goodwin stood across from him, their backs to the door, which was shut.

“I don’t believe any of your models offer such a capability,” crackled the hi-fi system on the desk. Leith had plugged his phone into it.

“Never mind that,” Sampson’s voice replied. “That’s a very valuable piece of information, and rest assured you will be paid handsomely for it. How did you get it?”

“I think it’s better off if you don’t know.”

“Probably. Well, thank you for doing this for me. I look forward to working with you soon.” The recording ended and Harmon folded his arms.

“Well,” he said, flatly. “I’m impressed. You’ve done a damn good job, Theo – getting us closer to Anselmo than we’ve ever been before. But I can’t help thinking it won’t be enough.”

“We know, sir,” Leith agreed, glancing at Goodwin. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“So you realise that we can’t arrest him.”

“Yes. Do you want me to continue investigating?” Harmon frowned, unplugged Leith’s phone from his hi-fi and handed it back. Leith took it from him but did not speak. He was waiting for his boss to go first.

“It bothers me,” Harmon said, after a while. “All this in-fighting between Stroud and Enjoni. It’s corporate manoeuvring on the worst level. I don’t like it.” He looked up at Leith. “I want someone to get to the bottom of it, and I trust that you’re the man for the job.”

“Thank you, sir,” Leith breathed. “Tabitha and I will . . .”

“She won’t be working on it.”

“Sir?” Goodwin asked, sharply.

“Don’t get angry, Tabitha,” Harmon soothed. “Theo won’t be either.”

“What do you mean?” Leith said, feeling his heart sink.

“Much as I hate to say it, there’s someone else who’s better placed to investigate it than I am. Have either of you heard of the Senate Commerce Subcommittee on Consumer Protection, Product Safety and Insurance?” They both stared at him blankly. “Scoso-cup-sai?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that,” Leith acknowledged.

“Everyone has,” Goodwin observed.

“They’ve been probing the matter for a few days now. Their Chairwoman, Senator Georgina Stanton, has vowed to sort it out. Several experts have testified before them.” He sighed. “I’m turning the investigation over to them, not least because the feud between Stroud and Enjoni has been garnering a lot of attention and the government wants to come down hard on it. Sorry you two, but you’ll have to be reassigned.” Leith turned to Goodwin, who shook her head.

“Now wait one moment, sir,” he said, strengthened by her show of support. “This is a criminal matter. We may not know how Anselmo got that information, but I’m willing to bet he didn’t exactly read it in the paper. If he went to illegal means, that’s corporate fraud. Sampson could go to jail for a long time.”

“Yes, and the United States Senate will investigate and . . .”

“Respectfully, sir, the United States Senate would investigate a body with a knife in its back and call it arson.” Harmon rose to his feet and faced Leith off over the desk.

“You watch your language, Theo.”

“Please, sir,” Leith pleaded. “I have a chance here. We can blow this thing wide open. Anselmo’s ours for the taking and he’s easily within reach.”

“I told you to drop it.”

“And I told you I have a chance of bringing this guy down.”

“That’s enough, DI Leith!” Harmon shouted, suddenly angry. Silence fell. “You and DI Goodwin can consider yourselves off the case. You’re very lucky you’re not off the force.” Leith folded his arms and snorted.

“You’ve been looking for a chance to fire me for weeks now, sir.” Harmon’s nostrils flared. It had clearly been the wrong thing to say. Leith considered retracting it or apologising, but Harmon spoke up before he had the chance.

“Alright then . . . yes, I have. And you’ve just given it to me. You’re fired, Theo.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me.” Leith stared at him for a long moment, then turned on his heel and pulled the door open. Neither Goodwin nor Harmon said anything until it had swung shut once more.

“Sir . . .” Goodwin ventured, nervously.

“Do you want to get fired too?” Harmon asked.

“No sir.”

“Then get out. Get back to your case.”

2.00pm

Harmon met Stanton at a café named Carmine’s on 7^th Street, halfway between the Old Place to the west and the Curia to the east.

7th Street

Several metal tables had been laid out on the sidewalk outside the building’s glass front and a few dozen customers were sitting at them. Stanton was accompanied by a couple of aides and was working on a sheaf of paperwork when Harmon arrived. She glanced up from her cappuccino.

“Ah, you must be the DCI who spoke to me on the phone.”

“Leonard Harmon,” he introduced himself, shaking her hand. “Thank you for finding time in your schedule at such short notice.”

“I remember your name,” she said. “And I don’t have too much time. You’ll have to make this quick. I’ve got a caucus meeting at half past.”

“Then I won’t sit,” Harmon told her. “You are Georgina Stanton, yes? The junior Democrat from Massachusetts?” Stanton nodded.

“That’s me.”

“And you chair Scoso-cup-sai?”

“The Senate Commerce Subcommittee on Consumer Protection, Product Safety and Insurance, yes.” Harmon frowned.

“You say the whole name?”

“Yes, and I chair the whole Committee.”

“Never mind,” he muttered. “I have some valuable information. The BPD has found evidence showing that Cassarah Sampson, CEO of the Enjoni Corporation, has used potentially illegal means to uncover information that she could use against Stroud Firmware.” Stanton put her pen down and looked up at him in surprise.

“I had no idea she’d be so vicious.”

“Neither did I. I’ve taken my detectives off the case and I’m turning it over to you for investigation. I trust Scoso-cup-sai will get to the bottom of it.”

“We will, Mr Harmon. Thank you very much for leaving this with me.”

“Senator,” one of the aides said, as she and her companion stood up. “You’ve got a caucus.”

“Yes, I have,” Stanton agreed, and also stood. She shook Harmon’s hand once more. “It was nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

7.00pm

“Harmon told Stanton over coffee today,” Goodwin said, stepping past Leith and into the hallway of his flat. She looked around. “Where’s your kitchen?” He swung the door shut and turned to point along the hall over her shoulder.

“To the right.” Leith’s flat took up the southeast corner of the third floor of his apartment building, which was situated on the intersection of New Jersey Avenue and Washington Street. It was made up of three rooms branching off a central corridor. Facing inwards from the front door, the kitchen was on the right, the bedroom was straight ahead and the living room was to the left; the bedroom included an ensuite. Both the bedroom and the living room had windows looking into onto the streets below.

Leith's apartment seen from the intersection

Goodwin disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. “Thanks for saying hi, by the way,” Leith called after her. “That was really polite of you.”

“He told her over coffee,” Goodwin’s disembodied voice said, from the kitchen. Leith rolled his eyes and followed her through. It was a large room, with a sideboard across from the entrance and an island of shining worktop in the centre. Above the sideboard was a row of cupboards with pans hanging from them on hooks. Goodwin had put her bag down on the island and was examining her surroundings, standing on the other side of it. “I’m impressed,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought you had such a nice place.”

“You’re on fire with the manners today,” Leith sighed, leaning in the doorway and putting his hands in his pockets. She frowned.

“He told her over coffee.”

“Wow,” he muttered. “I always wanted a goldfish, but I had no idea the short-term memory would be so annoying.”

“Pardon?”

“You’ve repeated yourself three times.”

“But you’re not listening!” She sniffed the air and looked down at the steaming wok on the hob. “Were you cooking?”

“No, I just like to keep that there. It makes a really nice sightline from the door.”

“He told her . . .”

“Over coffee, I know. And do you think this concerns me?”

“Well . . .”

“Flip the stir fry.” She reached over, picked up the wok and started rolling it from side to side, moving the contents around.

“Well,” she said again, “You were following the case. I thought you might want to know where it was going. I saw Harmon going out of the office and I saw him coming back in, so I got suspicious and checked Congressional records. Senator Stanton had coffee with him.” Leith shrugged.

“Big deal. We knew he was going to do it.”

“Yes, but . . . don’t you care anymore?”

“I was fired, Tabs. I’m really not sure why you’re here.”

“I thought you’d be interested.”

“Yeah.” He took his hands out of his pockets and held them up in the air, his palms facing her. “I’m not.” She shook her head slowly.

“Come on, Theo. This is important.”

“To you, maybe. I don’t have a job anymore. Right now, I’m more concerned with trying to sort my life out.” She looked down at the wok.

“You know this stir fry’s done, don’t you?”

“Ok. Take it off the heat and we can serve it.” He strode over to her, circumventing the island, and grabbed a couple of bowls from one of the cupboards. She watched as he accepted the wok from her and distributed the contents. “Cutlery’s in the top drawer to your left,” he told her. “Follow me.” She grabbed two knives and forks and he led her across the hall to the living room. The television, which was between the two windows looking south, was on. She could see the Brandon Monument over the rooftops. They sat down on the sofa, keeping some distance between them, and started eating. Leith found the remote to turn the volume up.

“When pressed, Old Place Press Secretary Mike Gordon elaborated on President Ackerman’s plans for the upcoming G20 meeting in Brussels,” the CNN anchorwoman was saying. “He talked of the President’s desire to work with the Eurozone’s leaders, particularly Angela Merkel and Silvio Berlusconi, to solve the debt crisis engulfing the region and minimise its effects on the American economy. He . . .” The screen went dark.

“Sorry,” Leith said, dropping the remote. “It’s boring.”

“No matter,” Goodwin assured him. They sat in silence for a few minutes while they ate. “I find the news quite dense too, you know. I never did like politics.”

“You seemed interested enough in Stroud and Enjoni.”

“That’s because it’s a field I know something about. Politics is something else entirely.”

“That’s why I don’t like the Senate getting involved,” Leith agreed. “They’re a bunch of stupid old blokes trying to run the country.”

“Not all of them,” Goodwin pointed out. “Harmon may have been right earlier when he said we could trust them to investigate properly. Scoso-cup-sai is led by Georgina Stanton. She’s not so much a stupid old bloke as she is a clever young woman.”

“Perhaps.” There was a pause. Leith finished his mouthful of stir fry and then spoke up.

“Did you ever get that problem fixed?”

“What problem?”

“The IT one. The one that kept you in the office late last night.”

“Oh, that problem. Yes, I solved it. I had to change my password, though.”

“To what?” She chuckled.

“I’m not telling you that, Theo.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you having access to my files!”

“It’s not going to do you any harm now, is it?” She shook her head.

“Theo, I said no.”

“What about if I give you mine, too?”

“Theo . . .”

“Ok, ok.” Silence fell. After a few moments, Leith cleared his throat. “It’s Rochester.” She gasped and shook her head in disbelief.

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” he protested. “That was my . . . wait. We both have the same password?”

“It’s from Jane Eyre,” she explained. “I used to love it when I was younger.”

“Me too! Do you remember the scene when he throws the party, and she gets all depressed because she doesn’t see how she fits into his life? And she’s looking over the banisters and watching his friends dancing and joking, then he comes up to speak to her. She wants to tell him that she’s giving up on him, but he has to go back downstairs. Before she can, he takes her hands and says . . .”

“Goodnight, my . . . goodnight,” Goodwin finished. She smiled. “It looks like we have more in common than we thought we did.”

“Do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you right now?” Leith asked.

“You bet.” They put their bowls down. Leith shuffled towards her but she grabbed him before he could react, and next thing he knew he was lying on the sofa beneath her and her lips were against his. They kissed for a full thirty seconds and then broke apart, both of them panting heavily and running their tongues around the insides of their mouths.

“Tastes of stir fry?” Leith said.

“Yeah.”

“Clean your teeth?”

“Yeah.”

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”