by Toby Neal
“That’s good news. Hear that, Alika? The attackers were careless.” Sophie stroked the tattooed dent on Alika’s shoulder, her eyes still on Marcella. “You might as well update us, Marcella. He should know what’s going on, too. We have no idea what he’s hearing or understanding, but you have to tell me anyway.”
“Okay. Well, initially it’s looking bad. Marcus and the forensic team found heroin trace all through Alika’s office and the warehouse. However, the crime techs think it has an odd pattern, more like someone took a packet of horse and sprinkled it around randomly than something that would have come about in the course of a package breaking open or something. In addition, as Marcus said he told you earlier, there were odd bills of lading in the files that have coded entries. And then, there was the cash.”
“What cash?” Sophie frowned.
“Ten thousand in his office safe.”
“That’s nothing. Pocket change for a business like his.”
“True. But we had to log it in. There was also opposing gang graffiti on the back of the building, as if the Triad had claimed it and then the Boyz came back and laid their signature across. It’s all circumstantial, but it’s systematic and multi-layered. Someone’s done a good enough number on him that we’re really going to have to dig for what was going on and who’s behind it.”
Sophie hissed a breath between her teeth, and turning to the still form on the bed, squeezed the bare spot on Alika’s arm.
“Bateman’s deep in his computers and we’ve done a search at his house. So far nothing there of note,” Marcella finished.
Sophie kept stroking Alika’s shoulder. She imagined the skin was warming under her touch and wasn’t quite so rigid and unresponsive. “Good.”
A soft knock came at the door and Sean Wolcott’s head turned around the jamb. “We’re back from dinner if you’re done visiting.”
“Sure.” Marcella stood. “I was just updating Sophie on progress on Alika’s case. Thought we’d let him hear it too. Let me bring you up to speed on what we’ve found out about his attack.”
She slipped out the door.
Sophie wanted to hug Alika goodbye, but that was impossible with all the cords and IVs and strapping on his chest. Instead, she rested her head on his chest and turned her ear against his heart. She could hear a slow, methodical thud, a metronome echoed on the monitor across from them.
“Just rest and heal.” Sophie stood and studied Alika carefully for any sign of change. There was none. He lay there like a broken mummy, just the way he’d been when she came in.
Chapter Fourteen
Sophie settled in front of her computers at home, her short hair damp from the shower. Ginger, still panting from the hard run they’d done upon Sophie’s return, flopped at her feet and heaved a sigh of exhausted happiness. Sophie dug a toe into the dog’s side, idly scratching as the home workstation booted up. The dog’s leg twitched and tail thumped.
Sophie had made a few decisions on that run, and as Ying came up to power, she put one of them into action. Accessing her coded cloud account, she downloaded DAVID once more back onto the computer’s hard drive.
She wasn’t going to be able to help Alika’s investigation without it, and she actually had a lot to do to catch up to where she would have been if Waxman hadn’t shut her down.
She consulted the checkbox task list she’d developed back at the office. Alika’s battered face was what filled her vision and demanded focus. She easily hacked into Marcella’s case on Alika in the FBI database and downloaded all the details to DAVID. She also re-activated her investigation into Assan Ang’s drug trafficking operation, the one she’d considered stalled. Maybe there was some commonality there too.
She set DAVID to mine for more information on Alika and Assan’s cases and then turned her attention to the worrisome situation with Lee Chan’s disappearance and whoever’s computer in the Arches building had tracked her.
Perhaps that was where Lee was hiding. Maybe he, or Security Solutions, kept some sort of presence there. It was worth checking out.
She accessed the Security Solutions database through her backdoor and scanned for any addresses or information regarding the Arches building.
It didn’t take long for an apartment number to come up: 9C.
That could be the location of the probe’s origin that had tracked her. Lee might be there. But wasn’t Security Solutions sending their own team looking for him? Who was the main user of the apartment? She scanned some more, but no renter’s name was listed on the lease but that of Security Solutions.
Lee wouldn’t hide on company property, would he?
Sophie glanced at the clock. It was 9:00 p.m., really too late to call Ken Yamada with something that wasn’t an emergency. It could wait until morning. She switched back to Ying as the DAVID prompt dinged with new inputs.
The DNA from two of Alika Wolcott’s attackers had been uploaded by the lab. It sat there, glaring at her from his case file.
Should she access ViCAP and AFIS from this workstation and run the DNA, in spite of being clearly directed not to, and it not being her case? Marcella and Marcus were probably home in bed, and it would take hours for the database to sort through all the DNA on file for any possible matches. Her friends would not thank her for pushing in on their case and violating her boss’s orders just because of her own impatience.
Tomorrow was going to have to be soon enough for that, too.
Sophie blew out a breath in annoyance. She was exhausted but too wired and upset to sleep. She dimmed the lights and slid out of her dragon-patterned robe. But instead of going to bed, she padded naked through her apartment to her home gym in the corner of the living room, and, in front of the wall of windows overlooking the jeweled city and moonlit ocean, she began a series of yoga poses.
Peace eventually came from the meditative, deep movements and controlled breathing, and eventually, Sophie sat in the lotus position, empty and calm, moonlight bathing her.
The Ghost realized he’d been holding his breath when it whooshed out in a whisper, loosening the burning sensation in his chest. He hadn’t noticed because he was so intently watching Sophie Ang, beautifully, perfectly naked, doing yoga in the moonlight.
He’d never seen anything like the sculptured perfection of her controlled movements. The light flitted over her skin in the grainy feed in a gorgeous striptease so that she appeared and disappeared in the black and white video.
He’d never meant to spy on her, stealing the dignity of a worthy opponent this way. That’s why, when he’d unlocked her apartment and fended off the ecstatic greetings of Ginger, he’d carefully pointed the camera in her bedroom at her computers so he could monitor what she was doing there.
He was no prurient peeping Tom. He was doing necessary surveillance.
He’d put another webcam in the kitchen where she might talk on the phone while doing chores, and a third in the living room, pointed toward the corner where her exercise equipment was stowed alongside a sleek desk with a phone on it. He’d placed the camera to catch her on business or phone calls.
He’d never dreamed she had such a habit of walking around her apartment naked. The sight was pure visual poetry, and made him want to play violin while she moved to create a worthy background.
He’d wired for audio too, in case she let slip confidential information germane to his situation. Tonight he saw she’d reloaded that program she wasn’t supposed to have, and she was on some sort of mission. By zooming in on her computer, he’d been able to grab screenshots of what she was doing, and it bore close watching.
She was trying to find the origin of the computer trace that had found her location. He’d beaten her in this particular move of their virtual battle, but he couldn’t let her find him. He had to set up an alternative identity, move out of the corner she was trying to box him into.
He could hear the slow, deep sounds of her breathing as she sat perfectly still, her legs folded and hands on her knees. Her spine was a su
pple wand, her profile as pure and beautiful as the ancient Egyptian head of Nefertiti sculpture he’d liked enough to buy in bronze for his bookshelf.
The moonlight flowed in an unbroken mercury line from her throat down her small, round, pointed breasts, along her contoured stomach, and over the curved lines of her thighs and buttocks.
The Ghost’s whole body was rigid as if electrified. The fine hairs of his arms stood on end, and his heavy, painful erection seemed to throb with the beating of his heart.
Sophie Ang was perfection. Everything he’d ever wanted or dreamed of in a woman. She was his physical, intellectual, and emotional equal. Even her lonely habits echoed his.
She was his female counterpart.
He’d never had such a violent attraction before. He prided himself on independence, easy to maintain because women were tiresomely emotional and talkative. They were always trying to attach to him like remoras to a shark. He had no use for them and his sex life had been, until now, a series of one-night stands with willing partners who wanted more from him than he’d ever give.
She was different.
He continued to watch her and finally got out of his chair, sitting on the floor and assuming her posture. He synchronized his breathing with hers. He entered the same quiet peace she occupied.
When she finally stood up and walked back to her bedroom, his hard-on throbbed painfully. He made no move to deal with it. She wasn’t responsible for what she’d done to him, and he wasn’t going to sully thoughts of her with mere masturbation. He sighed with the loss as she went into the inner sanctum of her bedroom with that silly dog of hers, and total blackness stole his view of her.
“Good night, Sophie,” he whispered. He got up and went into his bathroom to take a cold shower.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophie woke the next morning with the cottony headache of an emotional hangover. She turned the lights on and threw off the covers. She never had gotten into her pajamas last night. Everything was too heavy and abrasive on her sensitized skin, even her silky sleep tee.
Ginger was on her bed again, and this time she patted the coverlet beside her and the lab crawled up beside her sheepishly. “I liked having you with me last night,” she murmured as she hugged the dog around her sturdy neck. “I needed someone cozy and hairy to snuggle with.”
Ginger thumped her tail in agreement with this plan.
“Okay, time to get moving. Got a lot of things to get done today.” She hopped out of bed, slipping into the discarded dragon robe. She keyed on her computers with the fob and while they booted up, she started the teapot and got in the shower.
The homey and routine tasks helped her wake up and get underway, shucking off the last of a bad night. She’d tossed and turned, tormented by fragmented, feverish dreams of Alika in his hospital bed, Alika being beaten, Alika being arrested for drug trafficking.
She set strong morning tea to steeping and called Lehua’s cell phone. The older woman picked up right away.
“Any change?” she asked after greetings.
“No. The doctor’s going to meet with us today after they do another follow up CAT scan of his brain,” the older woman said. Her voice sounded rough, snagging on the words.
“Please let me know what’s happening. I’ll come by today,” Sophie said.
“I will. Are you helping with his investigation?”
“Informally.” Sophie bit her lip. She hoped Lehua made no mention of that to Marcella or Marcus.
“Well, we’re doing our own thing to protect him as his ohana. We’ve put the word out in the Hawaiian community to ask for any information on who might have been a part of beating him. Not just that.” Lehua’s husky voice firmed. “Anyone who might be a part of this ridiculous drug trafficking scenario they’ve set him up for.”
“I hope it works,” Sophie said. “Can you call me after his CAT scan?”
“I’ll try.”
Sophie’s next call was to Ken Yamada, made from the kitchen as she sipped her tea.
“Glad you called me,” he said immediately. “HPD just notified me that they spotted Lee at the airport in the United area.”
“Did they catch him?” Sophie hurried to the bedroom now and began throwing on her FBI work clothes.
“I think he’s giving them a run for their money. Slippery little dude.”
“We should go help them. He’s going to be traveling under another identity and we at least know what he looks like. I’ll meet you at the airport.” Sophie grabbed her shoulder holster and Kevlar vest, standard for chasing a suspect in the field. “I called you because I found an apartment in the Arches building that Security Solutions rents. No lessee listed, but I want to go check it out and see who’s in there. I think I’ll call the VP first, see what they use it for, but I wanted you to know I plan to take a little field trip over there.”
“Okay, but later. We’re early enough to beat traffic and I’ll see you at the airport.”
Sophie threw some puppy pads down in the corner of the foyer and gave Ginger a pat.
“So sorry girl, I don’t have time to take you out. I’ll call the service and have them give you an extra long run.”
The dog’s soulful brown eyes were accusing as she shut the door and locked it, running to the stairs and getting some cardio on the way to the garage.
She parked in a loading aisle at the airport and put her FBI placard up in the window, hopping out of the vehicle and running into the departure area. She met Ken and they approached one of the TSA uniforms, showed badges, and asked to get access to the security headquarters. It wasn’t long before they were sitting in a cockpit-like area surrounded by monitors. Cameras pointed at all the key traffic flow points were filled with people moving to and fro.
“Do you have any facial recognition software?” Sophie asked. She had a photo of Lee on her phone taken the day he’d given them the tour of the facility at Security Solutions. She often used her phone camera to unobtrusively photograph the witnesses she met in the field, and had found this practice invaluable many times.
Now she faxed the photo via phone to the Homeland Security computer and got the facial recognition software up and running, her fingers flying.
She and Ken Yamada visually scanned the computers along with a Homeland officer holding Lee Chan’s employee mug shot. Finally, it was the facial recognition software that found the diminutive tech, lighting up one of the cameras with a ding.
Sophie recognized him once the software had identified him. He was definitely in disguise, wearing a fedora, a goatee, and had completely changed his style by dressing in a three-piece suit and carrying a shiny leather briefcase.
“Appears he’s waiting for United Flight 730,” the Homeland officer said. “I’ll radio the desk.”
“Don’t alert him that we’re onto him.” Sophie could see Lee’s anxiously darting eyes under the fedora. “Just delay the boarding of the plane. Agent Yamada and I will take him with some of your officers.”
The TSA man called for backup. Soon they were jogging through the long shiny halls and open concrete work bridges with gorgeous mature plumeria trees between the buildings that were trademarks of the Honolulu Airport.
Lee saw them coming and made a run for it, throwing his briefcase into a man who stumbled into their path. Adrenaline surged as Sophie yelled, “Stop! FBI!”
She bolted after Chan, Ken right behind, dodging screaming travelers who crashed into each other trying to get out of the way. Sophie hit him with her shoulder in the center of his back. Lee flew forward and crashed to the ground. She held him down with a knee, pulled up his arms and slapped cuffs on him. She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to find out what’s really going on at Security Solutions. I’m on your side.”
He seemed startled, his eyes wide, but Ken and the TSA agents reached them, pushing back the staring crowds. Chan was frog-marched out to the curb by Ken. HPD had a secure vehicle, so he was driven to the FBI headquarters in the back of a
Crown Victoria as Ken and Sophie followed.
They took custody of Chan from the police at the Prince Kuhio Federal Building. He’d been patted down and had his phone removed at the airport. They put him in Conference Room A, with its stark interior, steel bolted down table and chairs, and mirrored observation wall.
“I want my lawyer,” Lee said clearly, the minute they were in the room. “I know you’re recording me, and I want legal counsel.”
“We aren’t arresting you,” Ken said soothingly.
“I don’t care! You just heard me request legal representation.” He glanced at his watch. “I requested representation at 9:37 a.m.”
“Who can we get a hold of for you?” Ken asked.
“Bennie Fernandez.”
Sophie groaned inwardly. They all knew the Santa-like little defense lawyer. Charming, relentless, and deadly were adjectives that came to mind. “We’ll call him for you.”
She and Ken briefed Waxman, who’d come to watch the interview. They all waited in the observation room, a small side area equipped with audio and video monitors, until the defense lawyer showed up.
Bennie Fernandez played up his Santa appearance today in a red aloha shirt with green leis scattered over it. His pink-cheeked face trimmed in white beard was almost a caricature, but his shrewd blue eyes never warmed. “Where’s my client? I will need thirty minutes of confidential consult time.”
Ken took him into the conference room. Sophie, alone with Waxman, shut off the monitors. She sighed and chewed her lip, wondering what was happening with Alika and his case.
“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Waxman said. “I received your presentation and skimmed it. I’d like a little more on how DAVID is able to penetrate law enforcement databases and read-only through their files. I think that’s one of the biggest concerns Headquarters has. Can the files be altered by DAVID? And the exact mechanisms of how it’s able to penetrate law enforcement firewalls.”
