Frame-Up

by Gian Bordin

  "Yes, I got it," I exclaim. The solution is simple. Forward the animation, minus the trojan horse, to Long with Garlands password suitably embedded in it. Opening it, as Long is bound to do — I can just see him shouting: "Hey guys, you have to come and see this!" — will reveal nothing. A day or so later, when I log on to his machine, I can retrieve Garland’s password. So I have my work cut out for tomorrow.

  I realize that Garland will assume that Long sent the animation, while Long in turn will think he got it from his boss. They might talk about it, but it is a small risk. Garland keeps pretty much aloof of the junior staff, and Long is unlikely to broach the subject. Should Garland thank Long for the animation, I’m certain the latter will be more than pleased to take credit for it.

  Thursday, 8:50 a.m.

  The chime of the entrance door intercom wakes me. I check the time on digital clock on my nightstand. Who would call that early in the morning, because for me it is still early after a late night? It might be Silvio, although he is more likely to phone. The intercom chimes once more, this time insistently. Whoever wants in is impatient and keeps pressing the button. I drag myself out of bed, put on a morning robe and answer.

  "This is Detective Sergeant Somes and Police Sergeant Elders. Miss Walker, let us in."

  "What does she want again?" I swear under my breath, as I release the door. I go into the bathroom, quickly wash of my face, and give my hair a light brush. By then, Somes is hammering at the apartment door. I go and open it.

  "Sergeant Somes, you still have not learned any manners. There is no need to be rude and bang at the door," I comment.

  She only scowls, while the police officer has a twinkle in his eyes.

  "Miss Walker, we have come to arrest you on suspicion of defrauding Ventura Consolidated of over two million pounds by effecting insider trading transactions that are prohibited under the Company Securities Act of 1995 and the Financial Services Act of 1986."

  So it has come to that. This is nothing but an attempt to frighten me, but somehow it washes off me. Given the flimsiness of the evidence — a forged signature — I’m confident that Crawford will get me released on bail promptly. While she is taking a breath to continue, I cut in: "That was quite a mouthful, Sergeant Somes. Haven’t you forgotten the Stock Exchange Regulations of 1984?"

  I must give it to her. She doesn’t rise to my irony. Her reptile eyes show no feelings. She continues with the usual warning of "You may remain silent, but anything you say may be used in court…" blah blah blah. Then she orders: "Get dressed!"

  Pointing to the sofa, I address Elders: "Please, Sergeant Elders, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable, while I get dressed."

  He complies. I go to the bedroom, Somes a step behind me. At the door, I turn around. She bumps into me.

  "Are you always that clumsy, Sergeant Somes? And I don’t need your help to get dressed. Join you colleague over there."

  This time she goes crimson. I remain in the door, blocking the way. She continues standing in front of me. After several seconds of silence, she says: "Police arrest rules require that a police officer be with you all the time."

  "Sergeant Somes, let’s be sensible. You know that the front door is the only exit. I have no intention of killing myself for an arrest that I know will fail for lack of proper evidence. As soon as you have the courtesy to give me the privacy for making a minimum of a morning toilet and getting dressed, I will … Or is it that you get your kicks out of observing other women undressing and dressing?" I’m deliberately provoking her, but something in her whole demeanor drives me on.

  This time, she loses her cool. A flash of hatred flits across her eyes. She initiates a Karate move to immobilize me in a painful position. I see it coming, counter it with the Aikido defense, and half a second later I have her in the tight hold she had intended for me. "Now, now, Sergeant Somes, you really bungled this. That is not the way to do it." I can’t help a sense of triumph as I hold her in a tight grip.

  Elders rises warily.

  "Sergeant Elders, relax. There is no need to interfere. I will release Sergeant Somes as soon as she has regained her composure."

  He remains standing next to the sofa, seemingly unsure of himself. I march Somes over to the sofa. She remains all tense. I know she is in considerable pain, but she makes no sound, not even a gasp. I can’t help but admire her.

  "Sergeant Somes, you will now rest on this sofa until I’m through dressing." I release my hold on her in such a way that she ends up sitting on the sofa. Elders turns away, trying to suppress a grin.

  She jumps up instantly and comes threateningly closer, while retrieving a set of handcuffs from her back pocket. "Miss Walker, I now add resisting arrest to the charges against you. Sergeant Elders is my witness."

  "Sergeant Somes, I suggest you calm down before you make an ass of yourself. You tried to assault me first, and Sergeant Elders will be my witness that I simply defended myself. Granted, I provoked you, but I doubt that any police tribunal will accept that as a valid excuse. As a police officer you should not let yourself be provoked by the person you are arresting. So, it is in your best interest to forget about this little incident, pretend it never happened, and I will now go and change without further interference and then you may take me to the police station for arraignment."

  With that I turn my back to her. She could have attacked me as I go to the bedroom, but sanity seems to prevail. All I hear is Elders murmur: "Somes, just let it be, all right."

  I leave the bedroom door partway open. Going to the bathroom, I feel my bladder being close to bursting, not a good state to be in when doing Aikido. So I first relieve myself, then have a superficial wash, brush my teeth, comb my hair, put on a bit of rouge, and get dressed in my tracksuit and running shoes. I wear no jewelry, not even a watch. Everything will be taken away from me anyway. The only thing I take along is a packet of tissues. Five minutes later I come out. "I’m ready."

  Somes must have remained standing a step or two from the bedroom door all the time. I walk past her to the entrance and remove the spare apartment key from its hook, the one Gary actually dropped into my mailbox two days earlier. Somes takes it from me and locks the door.

  She sits with me in the back of the car. After the car merges into the traffic, she takes her cell phone from its holster and searches for a contact number. She selects Willis from the list. I briefly spy the number that appears. It is a surprisingly easy sequence to remember: ascending even numbers starting with four, followed by descending odd numbers starting with 9. I file it away in my memory. It might be handy to know. She only says: "We’re bringing Walker in." The rest of the drive to the Snow Hill Police Station occurs in total silence.

  Willis once more goes through the arrest formalities on suspicion of fraud. He makes no reference to the incident in my apartment. So neither Somes nor Elders have reported it. I’m allowed to make my one phone call to my lawyer, who promises to drop by before noon. Then I’m locked into a holding cell. It is clean, except for some graffiti scratched into the strip of wall next to the door. I can’t find anything interesting. There is a narrow metal bunk attached to the wall with a thin plastic covered mattress on top. I decide I might as well lie down and rest, while planning the trojan horse scheme, more precisely, the code needed that will search for the password and return it to Long’s machine, embedded in the animation.

  But I can’t concentrate. Silvio’s image time and again intrudes on my thinking. Has he tried to call me at home? What will be his reaction when he learns of my arrest? Fleeting visions of our frantic love making the afternoon before rise in my mind. Why am I suddenly so hot for him? I’ve known him for over three years. He made no bones about being partial toward me, in fact, more than partial. I always fended him off. Why the sudden change? Has it been it simply because of Gary? The need to be loyal to Gary that I’ve never allowed myself to take a closer look at Silvio? Sex with Gary, even at the beginning of our affair, now feels bland compared to the intensity
of what I shared with Silvio.

  Although I keep my eyes closed as my thoughts turn in circles, I hear that somebody periodically looks in through the spy hole in the door.

  Thursday, 12.10 p.m.

  It is Sergeant Elders who fetches me. Crawford has arrived and apparently has already talked to Willis. I’m released on police bail under the same conditions as before, except that I’m to report in person each Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning between the hours of eight and ten to the Snow Hill Police Station. Crawford informs me that the reason for the arrest is the confirmation by the graphologist that the signature on the UBS bank account almost certainly matches the two of mine provided to the police by Garland.

  "But let me assure you, Miss Walker, that this apparent match of signatures is not enough to get a conviction. They need much more. So my educated guess is that Willis simply wants to rattle you a bit, that is why he immediately agreed to grant police bail."

  Police bail? Then I recall that police bail requires no bond. "Are you going to seek an independent evaluation on the signatures?"

  "Yes, if it comes to a trial, I will do that, not only between the signatures of yours provided by Garland, but also signatures of yours on checks you wrote around the time the USB account was opened. Your bank will return to you specific checks for a small fee."

  Yes, a rather hefty twenty-five pounds for each request, crosses my mind — I’m still in the cut-expenses mode.

  As I cross the lobby, Somes comes in through the entrance door. On seeing me she veers away.

  I’m hardly out of the building, when Elders catches up with me.

  "Are you going to drive me home?" I query with a smile.

  "Unfortunately not, Miss Walker. But may I ask you something?"

  "Yes?"

  "How did you do this, I mean to Somes? She is one of our top Karate experts."

  "She may well be, but she made a careless beginner’s mistake. She underestimated her opponent and hence was not prepared for a countermove. Never underestimate your opponent."

  "But I’ve never seen anybody perform the move you did?"

  "It’s one of the advanced Aikido defense moves. If you want to learn more about it, I suggest you take a few sessions with Miss Yakamoto of the Kensington Aikido Academy."

  "I might. Thanks, Miss Walker. I doubt I will ever forget this morning, nor will Somes." He salutes and turns back.

  Thursday, 1:00 p.m.

  No calls came in while I got an intimate taste of the holding cells in the Snow Hill Police Station. I’m surprised at the depth of my disappointment that Silvio hasn’t call.

  The scene of Somes calling Willis from the police car rises in my mind. I fetch my iPhone and quickly enter his number into its memory.

  Although I’m hungry, having missed out on breakfast, I decide to spend first an hour on a sequence of targeted Aikido exercises. Keeping up my sharpness, even if I’m barred from formal training at the academy, seems more essential than ever. Next I take the shower I also missed out on by the events this morning before I finally eat a late lunch.

  Still no call from Silvio. I expected that he would want to know the results of last night’s intrusion into Long’s computer. I try to convince myself that maybe he surmises that I might still be asleep and that he doesn’t want to wake me. What’s holding me back from calling him, I ask myself? Worried that I may come across as too eager? Finally I can wait no longer and call the restaurant, still the only number I have. He is not in yet. They expected him at the latest by five o’clock. I chide myself for not having obtained his cell phone number. Annoyed at myself I put the phone back in its cradle.

  Almost instantly, it rings. Hope rises. I answer. It’s my father.

  "I’ve just returned from —"

  "Don’t name it!" I cut in, more loudly than intended. It has suddenly occurred to me that my phone may now be tapped.

  "Why?"

  "I was arrested this morning on suspicion of fraud and the walls may have ears."

  There is silence for several seconds.

  "Are they safe?" I ask.

  "Yes … What does that imply? I mean why did they decide to arrest you now?"

  "Apparently, their graphologist confirmed that in his expert opinion the signature on the account is mine. Crawford though thinks that this isn’t enough to go to court. The conditions for my bail are the same as what Willis ordered already last week."

  "And how do you feel? Worried?"

  "No, I feel fine. I’m convinced that in a week or two I’ll have what I need to clear myself."

  Again, silence for a moment. "Let’s hope so. Maybe, now that I am alone for a while, we could have the occasional meal together."

  "Yes, dad, I would love that. How about tonight? We could go to Il Corno d’Oro, you know, the Italian restaurant at the end of Harrington? It’s only a fifteen-minutes walk from your place."

  "Yes, that would be nice and a bit of walking will do me good. I haven’t set foot in there for a long time. Don’t they have a new chef?"

  "Yes, but he’s not that new. He’s been there for the last four years."

  "So it must be even longer than I thought since I ate there. Say, we’ll meet at 7:30?"

  "Agreed."

  I finally knuckle down to what I intended to do this morning — program a trojan horse for Garland and search Long’s e-mail files for any clues. I figured that the trojan horse is now more urgent. Long’s e-mail files will have to wait some more.

  The first thing I do is to look for a suitable animation. A pornographic one or close to would be best. For the first time ever I search the web for pornographic sites. Some of the things I encounter are truly off-putting. I can’t imagine why any man would want to see the entire screen filled by a cunt like for an anatomic display. And how could anybody become excited over the scenes of a couple having mechanical sex, with the man croaking ‘argh’ and the woman dutifully responding ‘yes’ with every thrust, while she looks bored at the ceiling? I’m so disgusted that I almost give up. Then I stumble on a site that contains cartoons of animals coupling. There is one of two rats, with the male using his tail to whip the female with every thrust and then doing coitus interruptus, with the oversize penis shooting semen high into the sky like a pulsating water spout. I download it. Next, I search through my old computer science course files for the exercise that involved identifying a virus or trojan horse embedded in another executable program. It will help me on how to insert my code into the animation.

  Thursday, 5:30 p.m.

  It is five thirty by the time I finish the trojan horse as an attachment to an e-mail, ready to be sent to Garland. I’ve completely lost track of time and only notice now that Silvio still hasn’t returned my call. I call once more. This time I reach him. He apologizes for not having called back. He has had a rotten day, he claims. First, their usual supplier of fish didn’t have the snapper advertised on their menu, so he had to visit several other places to get the fish he needed. Then he had to deal with a private emergency and only got that sorted out a few minutes ago.

  "Couldn’t you just have substituted another fish?" I query.

  "Not if it’s the one for which many people especially come to the restaurant. Wouldn’t look good."

  "I guess you’re right. Anyway you managed. Won’t you tell me about the private emergency?"

  "It was a call from my parents." He seems hesitant.

  "Did something happen to them?"

  "No, it’s just that my mother needs a hip replacement. She can hardly walk anymore, and the waiting time in a public hospital is several months. But that’s not the real problem. She doesn’t think she can look after my daughter for much longer."

  Silvio has a daughter? Why hasn’t he told me before? "You have a daughter?"

  "Yes. She is four, four and a half."

  "And she’s not with your wife?"

  "No, I told you. My wife just disappeared and left us."

  "And your parents look after your dau
ghter? Why didn’t you bring her to England?"

  "She was half a year old when I left for England. How could I have looked after her? And my mother is good with small children. I visit them every two months or so."

  "Why didn’t you tell me?"

  "I don’t know. Does it make a difference that I have a daughter?"

  "No, it doesn’t. I just would have liked to know. What’s her name?"

  "Teresa. She’s a darling."

  "When will I meet her?"

  "You could come with me this weekend. I’m booked on a flight to Venice and return Wednesday morning. My parents live in Belluno, about an hour by car north of the airport."

  "Oh, I would so much like to, but I can’t. I was arrested this morning and released on bail. I have to report each Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning to the police."

  "They arrested you? On what charge?"

  "Suspicion of fraud. But my lawyer says it won’t stick."

  "Couldn’t you ask for permission to skip the Monday reporting?"

  "I doubt it would be granted. It would have to be a death or something serious in my immediate family that requires me to travel. Not for somebody who isn’t even related to me. But even if they allowed me, right now I cannot afford to be away. I need to clear my name and I must keep the mafioso busy. He might get suspicious if I’m away for several days."

  "I really hoped you could come along."

  "I will, the moment this is over."

  "I miss you. Will I see you tonight? Spend the night with you?"

  "I’ll come to the restaurant at seven thirty, with my dad."

  "Is he a regular here?"

  "He was, but before you came. I guess when he was still married to my mother." The iPhone begins playing the opening notes of Beethoven’s third symphony. "Silvio, my cell phone is ringing. It may be urgent. Ciao. See you tonight."