LV48

by Matt Doyle

  I fumble through the drawers, find a cable that will fit it, and hook it up to my phone. A quick browse shows there’s only one file on it, a single photo, so I copy it over and unhook the device. A few quick taps later and I’m greeted with a shot of three people, a man, a woman, and a child, gathered around a table in a restaurant. I pinch zoom and study the faces in the photo. The woman looks a little like the shot we have on file for Mary Warner, but younger. The man is strangely familiar. There’s something about his facial structure that’s registering, but I can’t place a name. And the child…

  That’s Allen Fuerza.

  Chapter Six

  THE NEW HOPELAND prison is situated several miles outside the city. It should be a pain to get to, all things considered, but thanks to a Government funded initiative, several cab firms are always open to pick you up from the North West city exit and shuttle you there and back. You just have to let the driver flash your barcoded visitor papers at the start of each part of the trip. That allows the Government computers to register the GPS position of the cab and confirms the trip is official, making it easy to match up funds for transfer.

  As to why the Government would want to fund travel for prison visitors? I always wondered about that myself, and I only found out the reason by accident. Lori and I were chatting one evening about two weeks ago, and the subject of New Hopeland’s legal eccentricities came up. It’s a minefield in a way, given the relationship between her brother’s death and Devin Carmichael, but there are some really odd little things in New Hopeland that make for good conversation pieces. I happened to mention the cab shuttle service and Lori told me a story. It turns out that the news photos she takes don’t always fall on the right side of the law. There had been rumours of a large number of Government officials visiting the prison, and not always to see family and friends who had made some unfortunate life choices. That wouldn’t have been a big issue if said officials hadn’t been claiming the trips as Government business for years and writing them off as expense claims.

  The IRS started getting suspicious and, being the big scary lot they are, commenced an investigation, which tipped off the news sites to there being something worth prying into. So, a single reporter and his photographer did some snooping during an office tour and turned up a number of files that were in the process of being edited to show legitimate travel claims. Now, the owner of the news site happened to have a few members of staff behind bars and came up with a plan. She protected both Lori and her paired reporter’s identity, of course, and let the Government know in no uncertain terms what she was going to release to both the public and the IRS, unless they rushed something through for her: the prison travel scheme.

  The officials involved saw the positives of the idea, the main one being that their fraudulent claims would be lost in the sands of time, and went ahead with the initiative. Lori sees the benefits for the public, as well as for her job, but still kinda feels that the fraud should have been revealed. But that’s New Hopeland for you. The main thing from my standpoint is that getting to the prison when I need to has become a lot easier, and a lot cheaper, at least as long as I stay within the monthly visit limits. For today’s visit, working with the PD also helped, as it meant I could get an order for visitation rushed to my phone to allow me to make use of the scheme.

  The trip was pleasant enough. The roads are well maintained because, well, that’s what happens when those with the power to affect such things are themselves making use of the thing they can affect. On top of that, even during standard hours, the roads never quite hit the point of being congested. Most people know someone in prison these days, but not everyone wants to visit them at all, let alone often. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the primary users of the prison visitation scheme are the ones who barely escaped the tax authorities. We arrive ahead of time and my relatively quiet driver is happy to sit back with a baseball game streaming onto his tablet while I do what I need to.

  Getting in early isn’t a problem either, as it turns out. “Prisoner MC6C30,” the guard who leads me through the winding halls explains, “is under strict supervision right now. That was why we allowed the request for a private room.”

  “Makes him easier to watch than if he’s in the public space,” I reply, following my guide into the elevator. “So, what did he do to warrant the extra security?”

  The guard hits the button for floor C and sniffs uncomfortably. “I am not at liberty to say, regardless of your position. I’m sure it will all become clear when you see him, however.”

  I nod. “Fair enough. Does he know who’s coming to talk to him?”

  “He does. Can’t say he seemed like he was expecting you, though.”

  “No. He wouldn’t be.”

  The elevator comes to a stop and we step out into another overly sanitised hallway. We only make it two steps before the guard places a hand on my shoulder and leans in to say, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but keep your eyes open. The moment he heard you were visiting, he made a phone call and arranged a second visitor. He isn’t the sort who we can stop visiting, so expect him to join you at some point.”

  I steel myself and reply, “Noted. How long will I likely have to get what I need before I’m interrupted?”

  “I wish I knew. This way,” he says and starts heading down to a door at the far end of the hallway.

  Well, isn’t that wonderful, I grumble to myself. Fingers crossed whoever he called is a Fuerza goon who knows what I know and isn’t about to hold it against me.

  I step into a small room containing a single table and two chairs but wait until the door is closed to step forward. The guard wasn’t kidding. Looking at Malcolm Castleford right now, it’s not difficult to figure out why he’s being watched. Even with the orange prison uniform on, it’s easy to see that he’s lost weight since I last saw him. The black eye and the stitches on the side of his head give away a lot more than weight loss, though.

  “Someone’s not been playing nice,” I say, pulling out a chair.

  “Spare me, Detective,” he grunts. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” I shoot him a sarcastic grin. Then remember I’m time limited here. “I’m working a case with the PD.”

  “Yes, yes, alongside Donal O’Brien no doubt. I know about…” And just like that, he shuts his mouth and pulls down a far sterner mask for himself. “I hear things. Rumours. Let’s leave it at that. Given what you’re likely investigating, I fail to see why you need to speak with me, Detective.”

  “Okay, then let’s get straight to the point.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure the guard isn’t watching too closely through the glass in the door and sneak my cell phone out. I load up the picture I found at Mary Warner’s house. I show Castleford and he does a decent job of feigning ignorance. But there was enough of a twitch in one eye for me to know that he knows who we’re looking at. “Who is that in the photo, Castleford?”

  “How would I know?” he tries, sitting back.

  “Because the woman, Mary Warner, visited you a few days ago. She’s in a coma, by the way. Or that’s how it sounds to me anyway. Tell me, what did you two talk about?”

  “Nothing I can tell you about.”

  “Try again.”

  “I am serious, Detective. Tell me, was she attacked by…the person you’re trying to track down with the police?”

  “Trade. One answer for another.”

  Castleford groans loudly and slaps his hands on the table. “Fine. We were discussing Allen Fuerza, if you must know. Now, was she attacked?”

  “Yes. And yes, it was likely by the person we’re tracking, as you put it. The photo, Castleford. I recognised Warner, and the child is Fuerza. Who’s the man?”

  “You’re the detective. You figure it out.”

  “I know we don’t see eye to eye, but if Mary Warner was visiting you, then you either like her or you can see a use for her. If you won’t help me, then help me help her.”
>
  “Help you? I already have.”

  “How the hell have you helped me, Castleford?”

  He groans again and grumbles, “This is all so confusing. I don’t know what to tell you, Tam. Or to be more precise, I don’t know what I’m allowed to tell you. This,” he says, waving his cuffed hands at his facial injuries, “is nothing compared to what will happen if I screw this up.”

  I sigh. “Then think. What have I already pretty much figured out, but not confirmed? You should be able to tell me that without getting in trouble, eh? I already know it, sort of.”

  Castleford blinks and turns his head away. I can see from the look in his eyes that he’s considering my words carefully. Finally, he says, “Mary Warner has known Allen Fuerza for a very long time. While this does involve him, it’s not in the way you’d expect. You see, she knows his real name, but not who he is.”

  “Okay, good. I did already know that he isn’t to blame for this.”

  “Isn’t he?” Castleford laughs. “Just because he didn’t order it, doesn’t mean he’s not responsible, Detective. How much of what happens in New Hopeland can be attributed to him indirectly, I wonder? I will tell you this, though; if I had succeeded last month, none of what you’re dealing with right now would have happened.”

  I start to respond, but the door opens, and Castleford turns his head towards our visitor. “Todd Eyre, as you thought. I said nothing.”

  “And has he been able to inform the target?” the visitor asks, and I don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

  “The detective will be able to confirm that. Hence my calling you,” Castleford replies, then yells, “I’m ready to go back to my cell now.”

  The guard from earlier enters, and a second guard comes with him. The new arrival takes Castleford by the cuffs and leads him from the room, leaving my original escort to say, “Follow me, please.”

  I rise and walk silently on one side of the guard, with the ever eerily calm Sunglasses Paloma on the other side. The elevator ride is equally as silent until we hit the ground floor. Sunglasses walks out, but the guard stops me and whispers, “Everything okay?”

  I keep my face stony, but reply, “Yeah. Thanks,” and walk out of the building, watching as the Four Kings of Utah’s number one problem solver makes his way to the only car in the public lot that isn’t my cab. When his car doesn’t move, I walk over to my cab, give the window a tap, and say to the driver, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  The cab driver waves me on nonchalantly and I make my way to Sunglasses’ shiny black Mercedes. I open the passenger side door and slide in. He relaxes in his seat and says, “It is good to see you again, Miss Tam.”

  “I wish I could say the feeling’s mutual.”

  He nods, and asks, “I assume something has happened to Miss Warner?”

  I sigh. “It’s not like you won’t find out, anyway. She was attacked by the Light Vampire. You know about him, eh?”

  “Yes. We do not yet know who he is, but we are aware of his existence.”

  “Then how about you throw a dog a bone here? What’s the link between Mary Warner, Malcolm Castleford, and Allen Fuerza?”

  Sunglasses turns his head towards me. “You understand that what little I can tell you is of no use to your investigation, do you not?”

  “Sure. But if it gives me something I can piece together another way, it may still give me a way to bring this to a close.”

  “I see. If you are asking me about a link between the three then perhaps you could share what you do know already?”

  I nod and pull out my cell phone to show him the photo. “I know Mary Warner knew Allen Fuerza when he was a child, and Castleford confirmed she knows his real name, but not who he really is. I also know she visited Castleford at least once, a few days ago.”

  “She is a long-time acquaintance of the di Franco family. The file you have is from an old news article. A reverse picture search will tell you who the man in the photo is and how she knows him. As to her visiting Castleford, that began as an accident. She happened to be on site with a now ex-colleague of hers from California, and recognised Mr. Fuerza when he left a meeting with Mr. Castleford.”

  “And was his visit to Castleford linked to all of this?”

  “In a way. It was common knowledge that Mr. Castleford had upset the Kings, and someone had been pressing him for information regarding the identity of the King’s Guard. When Miss Warner reached out through Castleford, we were…wary. There was undoubtedly an opportunity to move certain plans forward, however, and so we fed her some information.”

  “The names of King’s Guard members.”

  “Yes. Not all of them, of course, only those we believed would be able to take the correct approach to what would ensue. We knew the Light Vampire would be visiting, but not what he would do.”

  “Not all of the victims are King’s Guard. Are the rest of us random attacks?”

  “I cannot be certain in most cases, but you were certainly not random.”

  Something clicks into place, and I growl, “You told her I was King’s Guard.”

  “I am afraid so. We were aware of the legal issues that were about to befall you and, having ascertained how the Light Vampire worked by this point, fed your name out to him through Miss Warner. It was a calculated risk, but we believed, given the correct assistance, this would ensure you did not serve jail time. Had Captain Hoover not come up with the idea of inviting you onto the investigation, Mr. O’Brien was under orders to push the idea himself.”

  “Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but I don’t like being thrown into this without being warned first. Why me?”

  “Because you understand the rules, Miss Tam. Even with the trappings of an official investigation to stifle you, you are still pursuing your own path, as we knew you would. The fact remains that some people are more useful when incarcerated. You are more useful when able to move freely.”

  “So, what? I’m a problem solver for Allen Fuerza now?”

  “Only in certain circumstances.”

  My hand balls into a fist. “And was the anonymous caller who sent the police my way planned?”

  “Yes. I ensured that the LV did not take his sample and made the call myself. To my knowledge, he likely believes me to be Mr. Farrah.”

  “Well thanks for that,” I say through gritted teeth. “Okay, so how does this Todd Eyre fit into all of this?”

  “He belonged to Brett Stantz but was unhappy with being made a sacrificial lamb. It was my belief that he would be problematic, and he has now proven himself so.”

  I frown. “He beat Castleford, didn’t he?” Sunglasses nods, and I continue, “He must have overheard him giving out King’s Guard names. But if he’s proven himself to be… He overheard something he shouldn’t have, and reported to whoever Mary Warner and the Light Vamp is working for… How much is this reverse picture search going to help me?”

  “If you follow the breadcrumbs as you normally do, it will give you enough. Your task will be to find a way to piece it together without revealing anything unfortunate. And that, I am afraid, is all I can say at this point. I do have one question for you, if you would indulge me, however.”

  “You may as well.”

  “Is Miss Warner still alive?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That is surprising. Perhaps you may wish to consider why it may be.”

  I grunt a thanks, or as close as I’m willing to give, and exit the car. I hear the engine start up before I even make it back to my cab. When I get in, the driver is smiling happily at his game. He glances up at me and, with a concerned look on his face, asks, “Is everything okay?”

  “It better fucking end up that way.”

  THE CAB DRIVER takes my mood as a prompt to drive silently, concentrating on the audio commentary for the continuing game. That’s useful as it gives me a chance to run the reverse picture search on my cell phone. There are a few hits, all on news sites. While the wording varies a
little from site to site, the general message remains the same, and I’m able to piece a timeline of events together.

  Twenty-five years ago, Mary Warner was known as Pauline Welch. She was suspected of several crimes, ranging from delivery of illicit goods to murder. All these crimes had links to Angel Tanner, the owner of a California business specialising in gun running and drug dealing. Though she was questioned on multiple occasions, the California PD were never able to make anything stick, and she flat-out refused to sell out Tanner. This particular picture was taken alongside Arthur di Franco and his then nine-year-old son, Casille.

  The significance of the photo is twofold. First, Arthur was instrumental in ensuring Pauline was not sent to prison, providing watertight alibis for her on multiple occasions. Second, it was taken less than one week before the crime that did finally see her do jail time: the murder of Arthur di Franco.

  The facts of the case were fairly straightforward. Pauline was found at the scene of the crime, the murder weapon in hand, and admitted to killing di Franco the moment the cops arrived. The boy was nowhere to be found, and Pauline was adamant he must have run away when he heard the gunshots. Whether her story is true or not is anyone’s guess, but I do know that Casille resurfaced later on as the author of Four Steps To Power, and then disappeared again to become Allen Fuerza.

  Regardless, the news sites soon forgot about Casille; he was just another child of a criminal, caught up in a criminal dispute, and would be no loss to anyone. The court case was open and shut, with Pauline pleading guilty and receiving a sentence of fifteen years. The story she told was that Arthur had been caught doing something he shouldn’t, and when she had tried to talk him out of it, he became aggressive and she was forced to defend herself. The official word was that he was dealing drugs that didn’t fit with the modern criteria for things-the-police-can-let-slide, and this was backed up by a stash of cocaine in his residence.

  The interesting thing is several members of the conspiracy crowd picked up the story, and their tale was a little different. The general consensus seemed to be that Arthur had indeed been doing something he shouldn’t: working with a law enforcement agency to bring down Angel Tanner. He had allegedly been caught red-handed by Angel herself, and it was said that it was she who pulled the trigger. Believing Pauline to potentially be working with the now deceased Arthur di Franco, Angel gave her the opportunity to prove herself by taking the rap for the murder.