by Toby Neal
“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.”
Sophie frowned. “I cannot disclose proprietary details that could make the program replicable.”
Waxman snorted. “We have the program. It’s work product. We just need you to explain it to us.”
“I told you before and I’ll say it again: its proprietary software. You were using it with my cooperation and participation, which I’m considering rescinding.” Sophie felt her cheeks heat as she glared at her boss.
“All right now. We’re not going to settle this here.” Waxman appeared regretful, his eyes sincere and mouth pulled down. Sophie decided it must be because he’d just tipped his hand as to his real attitude about her work, and her temper spiked further. “Why don’t you just explain a little more, and leave it at that.”
Sophie spun on her heel, yanked open the observation room door, and stalked down the hall. Her skin felt flushed and gritty from chasing Lee. She’d already been stressed from what she’d been working on the night before and the visit to Alika. Annoyance with her boss and the FBI’s high-handed treatment of her program ratcheted her temper higher.
“First, they had me begging to use it, then they took it away, and now they want to take it over,” she muttered angrily. “Misbegotten poxy swine.”
Back in her office she booted up her workstation and pulled up the presentation. She added a few general paragraphs of explanation but was careful to hold back essential details. At least she’d finally finished the patent application and sent that off during her work binge last night.
That reminded her of poor Ginger, shut up in the apartment.
She called the pet service and asked for an extra long walk for Ginger. “She’s a sweet girl,” the coordinator said. “Our sub didn’t have any trouble with her. He said she’s just an angel.”
“He?” Sophie went still. Something about it being a male staffer who’d walked her dog put her on alert. “Who is the sub? Is he going there today?”
“No, Sandra’s back at work. His name was Fernando. Very handsome, too.” She giggled.
Sophie frowned. “What sort of background do you do on your people? My apartment has to be secure.” She didn’t want to get into why, but it couldn’t hurt to put a little fear into the flippant coordinator. “I’m an FBI agent.”
“Oh, I had no idea! Of course, we do the usual background check.” She named a company that for twenty-five dollars, checked for major legal trespasses. It was the barest bones, and Sophie was suddenly chilled. Ginger made her vulnerable in a lot of ways, not least of which was strangers having access to her home.
“First and last name,” Sophie rapped out.
“Oh. Well, I told you there was going to be a sub and you didn’t object then.”
“Things have changed since then.” Sophie remembered that phone call. She’d still been in shock about Alika, hadn’t processed the threat to her security. “First and last name, please.”
“Fernando Llamas.”
“What did he look like?”
“Mid-thirties, maybe. Dark hair and eyes. Um—nice body.” The coordinator’s voice had gone small.
> “Height, weight?”
“Maybe six foot? Not fat, that’s for sure.”
Sophie typed the name and physical description into the FBI’s much more in-depth background check program. “Please advise me any time there’s going to be a sub, and I will check them out myself.”
“Of course. I’m sorry if you were alarmed.”
Sophie hung up and searched the name. The little skull spun and stopped.
The man had no record, but then the name came back to an Argentine actor popular in the fifties deceased in the 1980s.
She hacked into Aloha Petsitters employee database and consulted Fernando Llamas’s resume, which included being a vet tech and “sales.” He did not fit the usual profile of a dog walker, whose demographic she’d already assessed as college students or housewives whose kids were in school.
Someone had been in her apartment. Someone who didn’t feel right.
Her phone rang. “Interview is starting.” Ken’s voice.
“Be right there.”
Sophie needed help with this security breach. Not later, but now.
First priority was to scan her computers. She started a spyware removal program remotely to sweep her home rigs, and walked to Bateman’s workstation.
“I have to go into an interview, but I suspect someone’s been in my apartment. Can you go out and do a bug sweep?”
Bateman blinked pale eyes. Their last encounter had been so hostile she could tell he was surprised she was asking him for help.
“Please,” she added, though it pained her to do so. She dug in her pocket and handed him her keys. “Next to me you’re the best at detecting unauthorized tech.”
“Okay, since you put it so flatteringly.” Bateman took her keys and she handed him a slip of paper with her alarm code jotted down.
“Watch out Ginger doesn’t knock you over.”
“I’ll be careful.” He grinned. “You owe me now.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Oh, God.”
“When you least expect it, I’ll want a favor.”
“Whatever. Just make sure my apartment’s bug-free.” She hurried out the door and down the hall.
Sophie slid into a seat beside Waxman in front of the observation window. Her boss had adjusted the cameras so they also had back and side views of the people in the room. Gundersohn and Ken Yamada were on one side of the table, Lee Chan and his lawyer on the other, and things were already underway.
“I’ve advised my client that he is not under arrest, but he is choosing to cooperate with the investigation into Security Solutions because of his own concerns about the company.”
“Very good.” Ken smoothed his tie. “We appreciate that, Mr. Chan. We only came after you because of the concerns of your employer, Security Solutions. They were concerned it appeared you’d gone missing.”
“I no longer felt safe,” Chan said, with a glance at Fernandez, who nodded. “I’m in possession of valuable information and I’m worried for my life.”
“What information would that be?” Ken was deliberately keeping his voice casual. From Gundersohn’s folded arms and intimidating stare Sophie could tell the looming Swede had adopted the “bad cop” role. “As you know from our previous interview, a connection on one of our cases led to a probe into Security Solutions’ internal operations. In the course of that, we’ve found some patterns that have piqued our interest. So why don’t you add to that picture and tell us your concerns.”
“I need protection. And immunity.”
“We have to know more before we can make any such deals,” Gundersohn rumbled.
Sophie felt rather than saw Waxman nod beside her.
“My client can give you a thumbnail sketch but nothing more without agreements in writing,” Bennie Fernandez said.
“I’ll contact the District Attorney to alert him,” Waxman said into an intercom mic from beside Sophie. His voice echoed tinnily inside the room next to them. “Proceed.”
Waxman began working his phone while Lee leaned forward. “I was a part of developing the automated surveillance software that’s proprietary and our best selling point as a company. But then, I began noticing that many of our clients, who are not the most savory of characters, began having bad things happen to them. Blackmail, things like that. There’s a client information leak. And now the FBI is aware of this.”
“Yes,” Ken said. “We came to you to alert you that you had some sort of saboteur within the company.”
“Well, I agree that we do. And I’m being framed as that saboteur. But it’s not just that. Our client information is being leaked to someone.” Lee rubbed his chin with a shaking hand. “I think that person will kill to shut me up.”
“It does seem like one possible scenario is that you’re being set up,” Ken agreed. “But running away only strengthened the impression people had of you being the culprit. What makes you think that your life is in danger?”
“Well, our CEO, Sheldon Hamilton, seems to have disappeared. He’s supposed to be in Hong Kong, but when I called him to update him, apprise him of what’s happening, he was gone. He can’t be located anywhere. I trust Sheldon, I felt he should know what’s going on. But when I couldn’t reach him, I knew it was time to disappear. This person wants to set me up.”
“Why wouldn’t someone at Security Solutions have alerted us to Hamilton’s disappearance?” Ken said.
“Because—they want you to think I had something to do with it!” Lee’s eyes were wild.
“So what about…” Ken consulted his notes. “Todd Remarkian? He’s the other tech guy.”
“I talked to Todd. He was the one who told me he can’t find Sheldon anywhere. He’s contacted the Hong Kong authorities. You can verify this.” Lee looked down at his fingers and picked at a bleeding cuticle. There was a long pause.
“I’m still not hearing anything worth disturbing the District Attorney about. Your company seems bizarre and badly run, but that’s not a federal offense. Nor a killing one,” Gundersohn said.
“But Sheldon Hamilton’s gone. And it’s Sheldon who has the patent on the automated surveillance software. It’s his product. And someone has had him killed. Hong Kong is not a safe place.” Lee’s voice vibrated with fright. Sophie could tell by his blanched skin and trembling hands he wasn’t faking it.
Waxman’s phone toned beside Sophie. He stood up and went to a far corner to take it, talking in a low voice.
“Tell us more that shows you are in real danger,” Gundersohn said. “And evidence that Sheldon Hamilton hasn’t just skipped for his own reasons.”
“Someone broke into my apartment.”
“That was Security Solutions under orders from Frank Honing,” Ken said. “And then we searched it too, at their request. They were concerned that you were missing. While searching for you, we found a computer with bundles of multi-national cash hidden in it, which kind of undermines your claim.” Ken smiled, made a deprecating hand gesture. “Not to mention all the cash deposits you’ve been routing to the Cayman Islands. Just wondering what you could tell us about that.”
Lee turned staring eyes to Bennie Fernandez. “I don’t have any extra cash! I don’t have any Cayman accounts!”
Bennie patted the young man’s shoulder as Waxman returned and addressed the people in the interview room through the intercom. “I’ve described the situation to the District Attorney. He says there’s no case here that involves us until there’s some evidence of a crime. So we’re going to hold you for twenty-four hours while we check out your claims. If we find anything, we’ll reconvene. If not, you’ll be released pending whatever charges Security Solutions decides to bring against you.”
Lee’s mouth opened and closed. Bennie patted his shoulder again. “Don’t tell them anything more,” the lawyer said. “Just think of this as a spa day. Rest and recuperate. You’re safe in custody.”
Sophie couldn’t help smiling as she caught Waxman’s eye—jail as a spa day? The lawyer got up and went out with Lee
and Gundersohn as Ken radioed for HPD to take him to the local jail for holding.
They exited the observation room and met Ken in the hall.
“I’m going to try to locate Todd Remarkian and see what he has to say. I have his number back at the lab,” Sophie said.
Ken nodded. “You do that. Start phone and online tracking of Sheldon Hamilton. After we get Lee situated, Gundersohn and I will go search Hamilton’s offices at Security Solutions. And his home, if we have time.”
“Lee Chan seems really frightened, but I’m not convinced anyone in this scenario is homicidal,” Waxman said. “Corporate espionage, internal blackmail of clients, maybe even catering to criminals—but killers? Not convinced Chan’s on the right track there.”
“But what about the saboteur?” Sophie argued. “That person’s responsible for at least six deaths if you count up the bodies from the gang leaders shooting each other, and those are only the ones we know about.”
“Didn’t pull the trigger, though, did he?” Ken said. “Did us all a favor there.”
“That’s what’s interesting about all the saboteur’s work, and it doesn’t change the fact that someone’s taking advantage of Security Solutions’ intel to play God,” Waxman said. “Which speaks of deadly intent to me. I think Lee knows something, and that’s information worth protecting as long as possible. Move fast. We only have him for twenty-four hours.”
Chapter Sixteen
Back at her work bay, Sophie called Todd Remarkian’s number.
“Yes.” This time the affable Aussie’s voice was clipped. “What can I do for the FBI today?”
“We have located and interviewed Lee Chan, whom we apprehended at the airport,” Sophie said.
“I should return to the States,” Remarkian said. “But I can’t, with Sheldon missing. And I’d take a good long time deciding to believe Lee. Someone’s selling our client information, and it could well be him.” Frustration tightened his voice.
“What do you mean? He seems scared for his life.” Sophie thought it was safe to say that much.
