Dark Streets, Episode 4
Thursday 19th April 2012
Day Four
7.00am
Leith woke alone. He was sprawled over the double bed in his room, his clothes scattered over the floor and the blankets in disarray. His head was buzzing, not from alcohol but from a night of passion unlike any he had experienced in years. Slowly, and cautiously, he reached over to where Goodwin had been when they went to sleep in the small hours of the morning. She wasn’t there. It was only after a shower and a quick shave that he found the note on the kitchen counter. He picked it up, his mind racing, and whispered it aloud under his breath.
. . . and another morning in Brandon.
“Theo . . . I made a mistake. I don’t mean to offend you or belittle you with that – it was a good night, and you weren’t at all disappointing. But you need to understand that I don’t want us. Underneath this note, you will find two tickets to the Stroud Expo.” Leith looked down. Sure enough, the monogrammed tickets were lying on the counter. “I brought them along in my bag last night, thinking you’d want to go with me, but what you said made me realise that you wanted out. So, with that in mind, I want out too. Use them if you want to. I thought we’d work together to get to the bottom of this. I was wrong. Sorry again . . . Tabs.” Leith cleared his throat and looked around, trying to get his bearings. The tickets gleamed at him angrily. With a snarl, he ripped the note up into tiny pieces and threw them onto his shoulder. Next came the tickets. He grabbed the first one and tore it in two. Despite his frustration, he stopped before ripping the second one. Come and find out what all the fuss is about, it said. Leith stared at it for a long moment and then slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. Goodwin’s gesture had been lovely, and he wasn’t prepared to let it go to waste.
8.00am
Georgina Stanton emerged into the kitchen to find Mark already standing over the cooker and making fried eggs for her breakfast. He glanced up furtively at the sight of her in her dressing-gown, prompting a frown.
“Are you alright, darling?” she asked, as she kissed him on the cheek and took her place at the table, just as she did every other morning. He nodded.
“Oh yes.”
“Was your morning run alright?”
“It was fine. The weather’s good out there today. Should stay good too,” he added, grabbing the toast when it popped up. “According to the forecast. What’s Scoso-cup-sai up to today?”
“We’ve got an important session lined up,” she told him, ignoring his use of the abbreviation. “Do you remember I mentioned that meeting with the policeman to you last night?” Mark had come home late the night before and had gone straight to bed. She hadn’t had the chance to talk to him.
“I remember.”
“Leonard Harmon, he was called. He said that the BPD think Enjoni’s been going to illegal means to obtain insider information on Stroud.” Mark tutted disapprovingly as he assembled the components of her breakfast on a plate.
“What kind of illegal means?”
“He wouldn’t say, but we’re going to pressure Enjoni on it in the hearing today.”
“With what?” Stanton shrugged.
“With what he told me, of course.”
“And where do you think that’ll get you?” He put her plate down in front of her and fetched some cutlery. Once she had started eating, he pulled the chair across from her out and at down. “Harman’s been playing you for a fool, Georgie.”
“Mark . . .”
“I’m sorry to have to put it so bluntly, but that’s how it looks to me. I spent years in Africa, watching warlords give their people just enough information to content them but not enough to show them the whole picture. You should have pressed this Harmon fellow harder.”
“It’s not my place, Mark.”
“Of course it’s your place! You’re a Senator, darling, and a damn good one at that.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing.
“But my point still stands,” he continued. “Harmon stated a fact but didn’t give you any information to back it up. When you talk to Enjoni’s representatives today and they deny it, what are you going to have to prove your point?” Stanton did not reply for a few seconds.
“Nothing,” she admitted, glumly.
“So it’s as I said. Harmon’s playing you for a fool.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, “But why? Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. You should investigate.” She snorted, finished her breakfast and took it back over to the counter. Mark waited patiently while she scraped the remains of the meal into the bin so the plate could go into the dishwasher. The silence was broken by a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Mark said. He stood up and disappeared around the corner into the hall. The voice of Bill Cohen, the Secret Serviceman assigned to perform a presence check on her every morning, floated through to her.
“Good morning, Mr Stanton. Is your wife here?”
“She’s just in the kitchen,” Mark said. Stanton ignored them; she had noticed a small book that was lying on the worktop. She walked over to it and flicked through it absent-mindedly.
“I’m sorry,” Cohen went on, “But I need something from her to confirm her presence.”
“I’m here, Bill,” she called.
“Thank you, Miss,” Cohen shouted back. “I’ll be going, then.”
“See you tomorrow,” Mark said, and shut the door once he was gone. Silence fell. Mark sighed and returned to the kitchen. “Georgie, I’m going to get some stuff sorted and then . . .” He stopped when he saw her looking at the book. “Georgie . . .”
“This is my private diary,” Stanton muttered, without looking up.
“I’m sorry, darling.” She picked the book up and turned to him, brandishing it like it as some kind of weapon.
“Why were you reading this? Don’t you trust me?”
“No, I do.”
“Then why? Tell me right now, Mark.” He puffed out his cheeks in embarrassment.
“I was fishing for a story about the Enjoni takeover and I figured you might know something you weren’t telling me. If it makes it any better, I couldn’t find anything worth publishing, so your secrets are safe with me. It’s just that it’s going to take Scoso-cup-sai months to come to a conclusion and there won’t be anything to write about until then.”
“Now I see why you were so keen for me to investigate,” she realised.
“Darling, please don’t be angry. This is my job.”
“Yes, and I’m your wife. You’re supposed to be loyal to me, not to your next paycheck!”
“Of course, of course.” The corners of his mouth twisted upwards into a wry smile. “But there is something odd about it, isn’t there?”
“Maybe,” she admitted, hesitantly.
“You know it as well as I do. Why is Enjoni going after Stroud so aggressively? It must be because they have some idea of how to weaken them. From what Harmon told you, they have insider knowledge. We need to find out what that is to get to the bottom of this.”
“I totally agree with what you’re saying,” she said, putting the book down and laying her hands on his broad shoulders. “And you’re forgiven for going through the diary. But our jobs work differently. You do the snooping around, I do the questioning. So you do yours and I’ll do mine.” He laughed and shook his head.
“It’s not that simple, Georgie.”
“Why not?”
“I need you to do my job for me. One moment.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and strode out of the room. She watched him go in confusion.
“Mark, what are you doing?”
“Just a second!” he shouted, from the bedroom.
“How long will you be? I need to be at the Curia at nine thirty!”
“You remember I said I was going to get some stuff sorted?” He reappeared with a shining piece of paper in his hand. “Here it is.”
“What is it?” she asked, taking it from him. “Come and see what all the fuss is about.”
“Tonight, darling, I’m at a fundraiser, so I need you to do what I do.”
“Why tonight?”
“Because that’s when the Stroud Expo is held,” he explained, pointing to the ticket. “And that’s where you’re going.”
The Brandon Conference Centre
11.00pm
The Brandon Convention Centre was a giant building situated to the east of the Central Precinct Police Station and Stanton’s apartment and to the northwest of the Curia, taking up three blocks in a line running north to south. L Street and M Street, the ones between the blocks, passed straight through the ground floor of the building. The first and second floors, which formed bridges over the streets below, had been given over to a giant hall hundreds of metres long and dozens wide. It was in this hall that Stroud Firmware were holding their annual Expo. The vast expanse of lacquered wooden floor was cluttered with stalls and promotional stands and company representatives wove their way through the crowd. Banners hung down from the walls between the windows, lit by powerful concealed spotlights. Electronic music boomed from the speakers that hung from the roof. Senator Stanton looked around as she climbed the steps into the hall. A gaggle of journalists was waiting at the top to snap pictures of famous faces among the new arrivals.
“Senator Stanton!” several of them shouted, shoving microphones in her direction. “What brings you to the Stroud Expo?”
“As Chairwoman of the Senate Commerce Subcommittee on Consumer Protection, Product Safety and Insurance, I have a duty to the people of this country to ensure that all corporate affairs are conducted in the proper manner. I’m here to observe the Enjoni delegation for tonight’s meeting.”
“Will you be asking them if they plan a takeover of Stroud?” someone asked.
“No, I won’t. Enjoni’s affairs are their own.”
“But you will be investigating?”
“For future Committee hearings, yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to have a look around. That’ll be all for tonight.” They ignored her and continued to throw questions at her as she walked away. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as someone else newsworthy appeared to take their attention. The Enjoni stand was ahead and to the right, facing onto the central aisle. Stroud had probably let them set it up as a peace gesture, she thought as she approached it. If only they knew what lengths Enjoni were going to in order to bring them down. At the front of the stand, several Enjoni phones were arranged on a counter. Three sales attendants stood behind them. At the back was a tent, which she imagined was where they kept their spare stock. She waited until all the attendants were occupied with customers and walked up to the tent flap. Part of her wanted to push it aside and snoop around, but for all she knew there was someone in there already. Just as she was about to reach for it, a man came out. He was hurried and furtive and he nearly bumped into her.
“Sorry,” he apologised, gruffly.
“It’s my fault,” she told him, and saw the Enjoni logo on the USB pen in his hands. “Do you work for Enjoni?”
“No,” he said, hastily pocketing it.
“Then why do you . . .”
“Wait a moment,” he interrupted. “I know you from the TV. Georgina Stanton, right? The junior Massachusetts Democrat?” She nodded and shook his hand.
“Pleased to meet you. And you are . . ?”
“Theo Leith. You chair Scoso-cup-sai, don’t you?”
“I do,” she said, unwilling to correct someone she’d just met.
“That explains why you’re here,” he muttered, as he slipped past her. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“You too,” she answered. Leith ignored her as he strode away. He had no interest in chatting with a politician. As he began mingling with the crowd once more, he realised that people were beginning to gather around the stage at the end of the hall. A giant banner bearing the logo of Stroud Firmware hung above it and a microphone on a stand had been placed in the centre. As he drew near to the front of the stage, finding himself jostled increasingly by the audience around him, the lights dimmed and a man strode out. An image of the phone he was holding in his hand was projected onto the wall behind him. The crowd applauded and fell silent.
“Just another teaser for the main show tonight,” he said, his voice magnified by the microphone and sent booming through the room by the giant racks of speakers hanging from the ceiling. “Which, as I’m sure you all remember, begins at half past on the dot. On behalf of Stroud Firmware, I’d like to thank you all again for coming and show you our new USB system.” He gestured to the phone. The cameras at the edges of the stage focused on it and the feed was beamed to the screen behind him so the audience could see it in detail. “As you can see, we’re proud to be the first company with embedded USB capabilities for our products. Everyone knows how easy it is to transfer files these days, but sometimes you want something . . . bigger. You want to be able to carry tons of data around with you in your pocket. We’re all used to having USB pens on our person. Well, why not have some way of moving files from those pens to your phone? There was a day when you’d have to do it through a computer and a connecting leads, but that day’s gone.” His announcement prompted a ripple of applause. Leith joined in as a token gesture, though in truth he couldn’t have cared less. At the back of the crowd, forcing her way through the ranks to get to him and question him about breaking into the Enjoni tent, Senator Stanton also applauded, worried that a journalist might snap a photo of her being unappreciative. As soon as the noise had died down, she pressed on. The presenter began talking again. “Now, I’m not going to drop the names of any of our competitors for fear of giving them free advertising, but let’s just say that this’ll help us undercut a certain other company.” The audience laughed. “In fact, we estimate a fifteen percent market share by the end of the year.” He pressed his finger to the phone’s touchscreen. “If you’ll look . . . sorry, one moment.” The option he’d wanted hadn’t been selected correctly. He repeated the action. Leith watched intently, wondering what would happen next. Now no more than a few metres behind him, Stanton paid no attention to the phone’s failures. She reached out to grab Leith’s shoulder. As she did so, the phone’s screen turned blue and displayed an error message. The crowd immediately groaned with disappointment. Several people turned to walk away. One of them caught Stanton by the arm and she found himself swept along with them, away from Leith.
“You suck!” someone shouted.
“Enjoni make better phones than this!” echoed another viewer.
“If you’ll just wait one moment . . .” the presenter was saying. He’d removed the phone’s battery and replaced it, but he was rapidly losing his audience. Leith, losing interest in the whole affair, joined a good half of the crowd in heading for the exit. Stanton looked for him as she was carried away but she soon lost him among the dozens of bobbing heads. After a few moments, she gave up and forged a path towards the Enjoni stand. Leith was just passing it when he heard her raised voice over the commotion.
“It’s corporate sabotage! You can’t get away with a thing like this! Trying to weaken a company when you have no right to . . .” He rolled his eyes and pushed through the press to reach her. She was in mid-flow when his hand landed on her arm.
“Alright Miss, I think it’s time you were leaving,” he told her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she announced, turning to face him. “I . . . Mr Leith?” Satisfied that she had been shut up, Leith turned to the attendants at the stand.
“Sorry for the commotion, gentlemen. I’ll take care of this.” He guided Stanton away, muttering in her ear as he did so. “You’re going to want to put out a press statement first thing in the morning denying all of what you just said.”
“But I have proof,” she insisted, as they came to the head of the stairs.
“Yes, I imagine you do. I imagine you know all about Enjoni using illegal means to weaken Stroud. You were probably told by Detective Chief Inspector Leonard Harmon of the BPD.” She frowned and stopped halfway down the stairs. Leith, who was one step below, looked up at her.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Theo Leith.”
“So you said. But how do you . . ?” He pointed to himself.
“I’m the cop who got that information.”
“Then why didn’t you just say so?”
“Because I’m off the force.”
“What do you mean?” He pointed to the doors at the bottom of the stairs.
“Can we talk outside?” She nodded and followed him through the lobby and out onto L Street. Cars flashed path in both directions and there was a line of cabs waiting to take the expo’s attendees home. Several reporters saw them and snapped photos, but Stanton ignored them.
“Alright, we’re outside now. Explain yourself.”
“Cassarah Sampson, CEO of the Enjoni Corporation, approached a mafia boss named Fiorino Anselmo to find ways for her to weaken Stroud ready for a takeover. Anselmo found that they were planning on moving into Enjoni’s market and told her. She must have found a way to sabotage the presentation so their new phone wouldn’t sell.”
“How do you know this?”
“I was assigned to bring down Anselmo. I overheard a meeting between him and Sampson and took the recording to Harmon. He fired me and passed it on to you.”
“Why did he fire you?” she said.
“Because I insisted the case should stay in police hands, whereas he wanted to turn it over to Scoso-cup-sai.” Stanton remembered what Harmon had told her at her meeting the day before.
“He told me he’d taken his detectives off the case,” she muttered.
“Exactly.”
“But if you were removed,” she went on, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m investigating of my own accord. I want to finish what I started. Anselmo’s going down one way or another.”
“And do you have any leads?” Leith did not answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and took out the USB pen he’d stolen from the Enjoni stand.
Night falls over the city skyline once more.
That's it for Episode 4. I hope you enjoyed this update and check back next Saturday for Episode 5! Don't forget to rate and comment!
-
1
1 Comment
Recommended Comments
Sign In or register to comment...
To comment in reply, you must be a community member
Sign In
Already have an account? Sign in here.
Sign In NowCreate an Account
Sign up to join our friendly community. It's easy!
Register a New Account