by Alexi Venice
“How did you figure out who they were?”
“Sam told me.”
“Good thing you scared the shit out of her. Now she’s your inside intel at Tyche.”
“Exactly,” he said.
“What about the video from Goat Hill Pizza? Did those cameras pick up anyone walking to or from Carlisle’s house?”
“I watched a clip that Navarro’s team sent me. There are several passersby going to and from Goat Hill, but I didn’t recognize anyone,” he said.
“How about cars coming and going? Did the video pick up any license plates?”
“No. Wrong angle. Depending on how they’re parked, it captures about one-and-a-half-cars parked on the street at any given time. Again, nothing suspicious. If I had a suspect or a car, I could crosscheck him/her with the video, but watching it cold didn’t shed any light.”
“Hmm. What about the forensics lab? Have you heard whether Kara’s saliva sample matches the DNA on the cigarette butt?”
“No. Still working on it, and there’s no guarantee there will be any DNA on the cigarette butt.”
“Okay. Back to the former lover who’s MIA. What are we doing about that?” Amanda asked, looking at the man’s photo on the board.
“I’ve got my guys workin’ on it.”
“Are you planning to interview his work colleagues?” she asked.
“I sent a few junior detectives down to Tyche to do that.”
“Why not you?” she asked.
“I need to ride herd here. I’m sure the detectives will do a good job. The only person I’m dying to interview is Carlos.”
“Me too.”
“Let me know as soon as you talk to the hospital attorney.”
“Will do. I should get back. Believe it or not, we have other cases in the DA’s Office.”
“I heard. Woof, woof. There’s a rumor that you sent Frank to the vet to get a random dog’s ashes, so you could intentionally substitute them for the charred remains of the building samples. They’re calling you the “Doggy DA.”
“Oh for God’s sake. You know that’s not true, right? And, it’s not funny!”
“It is to me!” He howled, so she turned on her heel and left.
When she got back to her office, Amanda looked for Mel, but she wasn’t at her desk. She left Mel a note. As Amanda rounded her desk, she saw a large manila envelope on her chair with her name typewritten on a white sticker on the front. She picked it up and noticed the envelope was thin and light, not one of the interoffice mailers they used. Curious, she opened her desk drawer, removed a pearl-handled pocket knife that had been her father’s, and slit open the top of the envelope.
The first thing she saw was the corner of white notepaper paperclipped to an 8x10 photo. She removed both from the envelope and flipped the white note back, so she could see the photo. What she saw made her legs buckle. She collapsed into her chair, a feeling of dread consuming her, as she closed her eyes to block out the image. When she re-opened them, the image was still there. Fuck! My worst fear!
She replaced the white note, so she could read the black type:
“$100,000 wired to this account [KY01 BRAC 6676 5427 6399 01] by next Tuesday, or this photo go public.”
Interesting, she thought. The noun and verb don’t agree.
Amanda looked at the photo again. It was the pic she had sexted to Jen from her burner phone. Amanda was lying on her side with one hand over her head—taking the pic—and her other hand resting on her hip. The selfie was the entire length of her body, her breasts full and one knee bent, showcasing her pussy to her lover. There was no mistaking who she was and what she wanted. The pose wasn’t as bad as some, but she thought it was licentious enough to derail her career. How humiliating! What am I going to do?
She and Jen had guessed that Amanda’s burner phone had gone missing at the election-night party. They had been right. Now it was clear that someone had indeed stolen it. Amanda’s mind returned to the party, and she ran through the entire event, picturing to whom she was talking, and who was by her side. Sadly, there had been plenty of opportunity for someone to slide his or her hand into her clutch and remove the phone. Fuck!
She’d had a sinking suspicion the photo would end up on the internet, but she’d be damned if she’d be blackmailed. There was no guarantee that $100,000 would be the end of it. In fact, it would probably be the beginning, and they could still publicize her photo after she paid them.
With only this information to go on, however, how would she ever figure out who was behind the blackmail scheme? I need the help of someone who can be objective—a professional. But who? Who can I trust to help me without judging? Without ridiculing? Without looking at me differently for the rest of my life?
Only Tommy came to mind, even though seeing the pic might be painful for him because it was intended for Jen—his former lover. Amanda didn’t want to hurt him by rubbing it in that she and Jen were lovers.
She felt so mortified she wanted to puke. She covered her face and cried—silent cries that made her world turn black as only black can be. Just when she had gotten her shit together from rehab, she was faced with a fatal threat to her reputation. My parents will be devastated. How will I ever tell them? God. Poor daddy.
She took a deep breath and called Tommy. “Hey. I need you for something. Can I come back to your office right now?”
“Sure. You sound funny.”
“I’ll explain when I get there.” She wiped her face with a tissue, grabbed the envelope and rushed back to Tommy’s office. When she entered, he took one look at her and rose from his chair.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, searching her face.
Telling Tommy suddenly made her nightmare more real. She was so overcome with embarrassment that she couldn’t speak. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out, but the tears flowed like white water.
“Whoa, Amanda. What’s going on?” He wrapped his arms around her.
She rested her face against his shoulder and wept, still holding the envelope in her hand behind his back.
“Are Jen and Kristin okay?” he asked against the side of her head.
“Oh yes. I’m sorry. They’re fine. Here—” She backed away. “This is why I’m crying.” She thrust the envelope at him and covered her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch him open it. He slid the photo from the envelope and looked at it.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered.
“I know. I’m mortified.”
“No. I meant you’re really hot. But yeah, I can’t believe someone is trying to blackmail you.”
“Please, Tommy, focus! I need your help. This could destroy me.”
“I don’t know,” he said, holding the photo at arm’s length and tilting it a little. “It’s not exactly pornographic. I mean, big deal, so there’s a nude photo of you circulating around the Internet. Who doesn’t have one these days?”
“The District Attorney, that’s who!” She was flabbergasted that he wasn’t as shocked at this career-ending pose as she was.
“You’re a beautiful, sexy woman in a committed relationship. I honestly don’t think anyone will care,” he said, still admiring the photo.
“This is not the reaction I expected from you!”
He stared at the photo, his eyes twinkling.
“Give me that!” She grabbed it from him.
He gave her his puppy dog smile, his eyes a darker hue than they were a minute ago. “I mean it, Amanda. You’re super-hot in that pic, and I don’t think it negatively impacts your career at all. I’d call their bluff and let them publish it.”
“Think what that would do to my parents! What if it were plastered on the front page of the newspaper?!”
“The newspaper would never print nudity unless it was art.” He watched her replace the photo in the envelope. “It is you in that pic, isn’t it?”
“Of course. Are you going to help me or just stand there like a gawking perv?!”
“I’d love to but investigat
ing a financial blackmail crime is outside of my wheelhouse. I suggest we go to Navarro. He knows about computer and financial stuff, which is probably your only clue in this case. That long account number doesn’t mean anything to me, but it might mean something to him.”
“Fine. Why not subject myself to more humiliation? Let’s go.” She stomped off ahead of him.
Chapter 21
The Hall of Justice
Tommy and Amanda took the back stairwell down to Navarro’s office. They found him in his high-tech room with computers stacked on top of one another, large flat screens on the wall, and his regiment of nerds sitting at their work stations, combing through video, recovering computer data, and generally doing techie things that no one understood. Even though he was the boss, Navarro’s work station was imbedded among the other members of the team. He worked as hard, and on the same matters, as everyone else.
Navarro looked from his computer. “Hey, Tommy, Amanda. What can I do for you?”
“We need to talk privately,” Tommy said.
“Sure. Follow me.” Navarro led them to a small conference room where he motioned for them to sit, but Tommy and Amanda remained standing. Navarro didn’t dare sit when he saw the looks on their faces.
“What we’re about to show you is embarrassing, so I hope you can keep it confidential,” Amanda said.
Navarro’s large brown eyes searched her face. She felt him studying her and was embarrassed that her eyes were probably red and puffy.
“Of course. Whatever you need,” he said.
Tommy gave Navarro the manila envelope. “Look inside.”
Navarro carefully opened the envelope and removed the note, still clipped to the photo. He took a minute to study both. Amanda had to give him credit for keeping a poker face while gazing at the nude photo of her.
“What’s the issue?” Navarro asked, still holding the note and photo.
Amanda rolled her eyes.
“See? What’d I tell you?” Tommy asked her.
“I’d let them publish it if I were you.” Navarro flipped the note back and looked at the photo—again. “It’s a very attractive photo.”
Amanda reached over and flipped the white piece of paper back over the photo, obscuring most of it. “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that I don’t want them to publish it.”
“You’re not going to pay the ransom, are you?” Navarro asked, aghast.
“Of course not. I want to catch them. What can you tell me about the account number that’s typed on there?” she asked, tapping the note with her index finger.
“It looks like an IBAN,” Navarro said.
“A what?” Tommy asked.
“IBAN means ‘International Bank Account Number.’ It’s a bank routing number and account number all rolled into one,” Navarro explained.
“Can you tell where this account is located?” Amanda asked.
“I think the first two digits are a country abbreviation. I’d need to Google it. Can we return to my desk?”
“Sure, but put the photo back in the envelope,” Amanda said. Navarro did as requested, kept the note, and gave her the envelope.
They returned to his desk and watched him type on his keyboard. “Yep. KY is the abbreviation for Cayman and 01 is the Cayman country code. The other letters and numbers identify the bank and account number.”
“Great. Another Cayman bank,” Tommy said sarcastically. “My last experience in Cayman was so positive, especially the dead body in the hotel room.”
“I heard,” Navarro said. “But if you want intel on who set up the account, then you’ll have to physically visit the bank.”
“Been there. Done that,” Tommy said.
“Fuck,” Amanda said.
“I could go for you,” Navarro said.
“You’d do that?” Amanda asked.
“Sure.”
“Wait a minute,” Tommy said. “If the people who sent this photo get word that Navarro is poking around at the bank, then they’ll publish it for certain. Do you want to risk that?”
“I want to catch these bastards,” she said.
“No guarantees,” Navarro said. “Just because I visit the bank doesn’t mean I’ll get answers.”
“I know, but don’t we have to try? We can’t let this go unanswered.” She purposefully used “we,” hoping they would take some ownership in her nightmare.
“Well, here are your options,” Navarro said, holding up his fingers. “Number one: pay the ransom, which is a really stupid idea. Number two: ignore it and let it go public, which I recommend. Or, number three: dig into the account to see if you can pick up a trail that leads to the bad guys. I can do number three for you. I sometimes do work like this in my free time—not that I have any free time.”
“I agree with Navarro on option two. I think you should ignore it, and let it go public,” Tommy said.
“You aren’t curious who’s doing this? You don’t want to investigate and arrest them?” she asked.
“First, it isn’t my jurisdiction,” Tommy said. “It’s federal and international. Second, I can probably guess who’s doing this—your political adversaries from the DA election. Probably someone from Gavin Morales’ campaign who sold the burner phone to the North Korean government.”
Amanda’s eyes lit up, and she snapped her fingers. “There’s an idea! Why don’t we have Roxy look into it? She specializes in banks and the North Korean government!”
Navarro and Tommy exchanged looks. “That’s not a bad idea,” Tommy said. “Are you sure you want her to see this photo though?”
“You’re asking me that after I let you two see it? Of the three of you, she’s the only one who’s actually seen me naked. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” The irony of Tommy’s question almost made Amanda cry with laughter. If Roxy hadn’t been the biggest mistake of her life, she would’ve found his concern genuinely funny.
Navarro’s eyes widened, but he quickly concealed his surprise.
I probably shouldn’t have said that, she thought.
“Valid point. Do you have her contact info?” Tommy asked.
“Unfortunately, I deleted it. Do you have it?” Amanda asked.
“Yeah. Want me to text her?” he asked.
“Please.”
Tommy removed his phone and texted Roxy. “We’re assuming she still has the same phone.”
“It might be awhile before she replies, so we should probably—” No sooner had Amanda spoken the words than a text appeared on Tommy’s screen.
“She replied,” Tommy said. He silently read her text then said, “She’s going to send me a secure email address, so we can send the note and photo to her.” They all watched Tommy’s phone until a text popped up from her.
“Can you scan the note and photo and send them in an encrypted email to this address?” Tommy held up his phone screen for Navarro.
“Sure.” Navarro held out his hand for Amanda to give him the photo. He walked to the scanner at the far end of the room, lifted the lid, and placed the note and photo on the glass.
Amanda closed her eyes and shook her head. Now the photo is in the scanner and will be on the SFPD computer system. Yay me. My ultimate humiliation begins. Everyone in this room will probably be looking at it as soon as I walk out the door.
Navarro returned to his chair and clicked on the scanned images, then attached them to an encrypted email to Roxy. “Okay. I sent the email to Roxy.”
“Thanks. You’ve been a huge help,” Amanda said. “I appreciate your discretion.”
“Anytime,” he said.
Amanda tipped her chin at Tommy, signaling they should go.
“See you later,” Tommy said to Navarro then held the door for Amanda, following her out.
As they made their way back to Tommy’s office, Amanda lamented, “I can’t believe how stupid I was to sext Jen. I should’ve known that burner phone would end up in the hands of someone who hated me. Fuck—I could use a drink right now.”
“I can’t believe someone could access the phone. I guess passwords and security don’t mean anything anymore,” he said.
“Did they ever? I mean, really, in the hands of the North Korean government, no phone stands a chance.” And, now they’ve targeted me personally.
“That’s sort of my point for your peace of mind. Nothing is secure. There are nude photos all over the Internet. By comparison, yours looks professionally taken. You’re a beautiful woman, Amanda. You should be proud. No wonder Jen left me for you. I’d leave me for you too.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Tommy. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but I’m embarrassed as hell. I’m going to die when my parents—and their friends—see that photo.”
“I get it. We’ll see what we can do.”
By the time they reached Amanda’s office, Amanda’s phone chirped with an incoming text. “It’s Roxy. I guess she saved my contact info.”
Amanda silently read Roxy’s text. I’m sorry. I’m sure this is very upsetting to you, but you look bloody hot as hell in that pic. I only wish it had been intended for me. Anyway, the bank account is in Cayman, and my analysts inform me it was set up by a shell of a shell corporation for the North Korean government. I’m guessing that Yon Song-Muk is still on the warpath and paid someone to lift your phone and courier it back to his hacking team. Don’t pay the ransom. It will be a never-ending blackmail scheme that will conclude with the pic being posted on the internet anyway. Call their bluff. Let it go. Chin up, shoulders back and tits out. xxxooo.
All the embarrassment and humiliation of public shame swirled into a vomitus vortex in the pit of Amanda’s stomach. Tears sprang again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hide the hurt from Tommy, but it was too late. Her body convulsed with sobs, and she threw herself into him and cried.
“Ah. I’m guessing you heard back from Roxy, and she agreed with our analysis.” He hugged her tightly.
She nodded against his chest.
“It’s gonna be all right. You’ll see,” he said against the top of her head while rubbing her back.
