| From: | Paul J. Adam ShadowTK@********.demon.co.uk |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Meeting a Suspect |
| Date: | Thu, 8 Jun 2000 23:57:10 +0100 |
>>>>>[Okay, I can work with the guy, he passes.
+++++begin video
"Lieutenant?" Nash doesn't knock, he just leans round the door.
"Come in, get coffee, get ready to roll. We may have our man." Hart
holds up a sheaf of paperwork.
"That's what I was about to tell you..."
"Good. If we've got the same name, we're probably right. You first,
since you did your magic stuff."
"Terence Frenz. Age thirty-one. Works for Ares Vehicular Systems at
their site in Milton. Lives in company housing-"
"Thirty-one Jefferson Avenue, on the Pale Grass estate?"
"To the letter. You found him too?"
"Yep. ID off the security cameras, forensics at the scene, and he
matches the description Berevsky's friend gave of the guy she left the
club with. Legwork plus magic. We got the guy." Hart nod. "Good work,
SWAT-boy."
"Lieutenant, with all due and proper respect, if I'm to address you
formally, I'm Sergeant Nash not 'SWATboy'." Nash says in reasonable, if
slightly forced, tones.
"Sergeant Nash, what do rookies in SWAT get called their first few
weeks?"
"Point taken, I guess. They can be a little rough."
"Rough? Try SEAL training, and Hell Week." Hart laughs.
"You did SEAL training?" Nash sounds awestruck.
"No, my current squeeze did. He's XO of Special Boat Unit Twelve."
Sergeant Nash looks ever so slightly crestfallen. Perhaps because
Lieutenant Hart is now definitely unreceptive to his advances. Perhaps
because he'd hoped to learn some SEAL tricks off her. For whatever
reason, he shrugs and gets back to the matter at hand. "I thought you
were married?"
"I was. Twice. My first husband walked out on me after he stripped the
house. He even took the ice trays out of the freezer. You believe that?
I'm just glad he left the freezer. My second husband was a much better
guy. Except he's dead." Hart shrugs. "Anyway, you understand the problem
we now have?"
"Yeah, Frenz is extraterritorial and now he won't leave Ares
jurisdiction until Judgement Day, and there's frag-all chance they'll
extradite him?"
"Precisely. So, we make the best of the situation." Hart picks up her
'phone, dials. "Yep... I'd like to speak to Mr Frenz, please. That's
right... no, it's important. Yes, I know... Look, I'm a Lone Star
officer and it's life or death, you block this call and you'll lose your
job. I'm not kidding."
Hart hits the 'silence' button and grins at Nash. "Never underestimate a
suit's gutlessness. A few have backbone, most you can bullshit."
She releases the button, sips her coffee. "Yes, thank you... Mr Frenz.
This is Lieutenant Julianne Hart, Tacoma Homicide. You need to talk to
me about Valentinya Berevsky... Mr Frenz, I could tell you _exactly_
what my interest is, but I can't guarantee the security of this line and
I don't want to prejudice your position in the Company. I think we need
to meet somewhere face-to-face... No, Mr Frenz, I'm not. Not yet,
anyway... I don't want to say any more so publicly, Frenz. You're not
stupid. Take the chance you're being offered... Good. The Gravity Bar,
on Northeastern and Spruce. In one hour. Be there." She hangs up.
"And?" Nash asks.
"And, we're going to the Gravity Bar. You packing?"
"Of course." Nash opens his jacket, revealing a Thunderbolt in a
shoulder rig.
"Good. And you _do_ know how to do all that SWAT-trooper gun-fu shit?"
"Why, are you expecting a fight?"
"It's possible." Hart unlocks her desk drawer, takes out a very-heavily-
customised Predator automatic. Nash's eyes bug slightly at the sight of
it: from muzzle to baseplate, every part seems to have been modified.
Compensated barrel riding in a precision bushing, forward serrations,
customised scope mount and Sure-Fire light, wide ejection port, ambidex
controls, racking lever, Hogue grips, combat trigger guard, extended
magazine release, bobbed hammer, tritium sights...
"What _is_ that?"
"I told you about my SEAL friend? He gave me this when he went into
Boats." Hart slides an extended, weighted, buffered magazine into place,
uses the racking lever to chamber a round, and slides the pistol into
its holster behind her hip. As she stands, her jacket falls and hides it
very well. "Apparently it's a Richard Wilson Custom Special. But
basically it's just a very nice Predator."
"You don't like the Thunderbolt?"
"I trust Christian's opinions when it comes to guns." Hart shrugs. "Come
on, we've got traffic to fight."
+++++edited for brevity
Frenz enters the bar. Not out of place, not in that sharp Montero-of-New
York suit: he scans the patrons (few in number, at quarter-past-nine -
just a few folk who want to watch last night's Timberwolves game over a
bar breakfast) until he catches Hart's eye, hurries over to them.
"Lieutenant Hart-?"
"Shh. No names, no pack drill, _capice_?" Hart gestures for him to sit.
Nash is staring at Franz, the way a mongoose might gaze upon a cobra,
and Franz looks nervously at the ex-SWAT sergeant before taking a seat.
"So, how can I help you?"
"Well, Terry, we've got a problem. Seems you raped and murdered a girl."
"I - this is outrageous - I never -"
"I know, I know, but that's how the evidence looks. Thing is, it's not
_definite_ yet-"
"Not definite?" Nash asks disbelievingly.
"It might not hold in court. Especially not if there were some...
deletions." Hart continues.
Franz's eyes light up. "Like what?"
"That depends, really."
"Twenty thousand nuyen. Cash." Franz says, suddenly breezily confident.
"Each." Hart might just have stamped on Nash's foot - he had been
furious and about to become vocal, now he's just furious.
"And for that I get..."
Hart shrugs. "What do you want? For twenty big ones, I can do a lot."
"I was never fragging there. All right? Get rid of anything that puts me
in her drekky little apartment. I took her home, kissed her goodnight
and left. That's the story I want."
"Did you touch anything in her apartment?" Hart asks. "I just need to
know, so I can cover it-"
"Uh... the door. I closed it. The sofa and the cushions. And her. And...
the door, I opened it and closed it. And a glass, she got me a gin and
tonic."
"And a cushion?"
"What?" Franz suddenly laughs. "Oh! Of course! The cushion! Yeah, when
she started squealing?"
Hart _definitely_ had to stamp hard on Nash's foot, to keep the young
sergeant from killing Franz on the spot. Then, she leans back, and
there's a faint _click_ and her smartlink display comes alive. 19 ROUNDS
APDS READY.
"Sergeant Nash, arrest Mr Franz."
One eyeblink, Nash was sitting in his seat, looking daggers at Franz.
The next, he's kneeling on Franz's back, pressing the ugly Ruger
automatic to the salaryman's head, reciting an oh-so-familiar refrain.
"You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain
silent you will fragging well lose your head. You have-"
"What is this? You can't arrest me! I'm an Ares citizen!"
Franz squeals even louder as Nash grinds the muzzle of his Thunderbolt
into the suit's ear, very nearly drawing blood. "What did I just say,
drekhead?" he snarls.
Franz ignores him as best he can. "Get your ape off me, lieutenant, or
I'll have your badge!" He continues to shout at the top of his voice as
Hart shows that very badge to the bartender, then autodials her pocket
'phone to call for backup. Nash looks puzzled, as Franz works through
several varieties of "you can't do this" too loudly and angrily for him
to finish the Miranda warning.
Hart closes her 'phone. "Mr Franz? Mr Franz!"
"-sue you and your Department and Lone Star Incorporated until - WHAT?"
"We didn't have enough evidence to arrest you before. But you tried to
bribe a law enforcement officer. And then you volunteered information
about a homicide, sufficient to make you a suspect." Hart shrugs. "If
you're innocent, you've nothing to fear. You can always get Ares to bail
you out."
Franz goes suddenly quiet while Nash finishes the Miranda warning and
cuffs him, saying only after that, "I want my lawyer."
"Exercise your right to fucking silence until you get to the station."
Hart replies amiably, as a patrol car pulls up outside.
"Or we'll be most happy to exercise it for you," Nash adds in the
sweetest tone Hart has yet heard from him.
After they've turned Franz over to the patrolmen to be taken in and
booked, Hart - apparently calm and relaxed - holsters her sidearm and
sits down to finish her coffee. Nash stares at the disappearing car,
then at Hart.
"Okay. I know the legalities, that we can't lure him out and bust him.
So how do we make _this_ stick?"
"Easy. We bust him for attempted bribery and corruption. Then while he's
busted we print and DNA-type him, and wham! We've got him for the rape
and murder of Valentinya Berevsky."
"But we can't lure him..."
"Who lured anyone? We said we had something to talk about. He offered us
cash bribes to lose files and destroy evidence that was specific to a
homicide scene. We arrested him for bribery. Then it turns out that -
shock, horror! - he was the murderer!"
"And when his company's lawyers go to work-"
"We got the guy dead to rights. Chris, Ares will cut him loose and bury
him rather than be seen publicly quibbling technicalities and shielding
a murderer. They take care of their own so far... then they hang them
out to dry." Hart drains her cup. "We tricked him out, got him to bury
himself. Now we just have to stop him getting bail and make sure we
don't fuck up at the trial."
"And _this_ is one of the easy seventy per cent?" Nash asks.
"Yep. Still want to work Homicide?"
"He killed her. He's going down. I can live with that." Nash shrugs.
"Yeah. I'll stick with Homicide. Just one thing." The young mage looks
at her in a way that tells Hart he's deadly serious. "How much would he
have had to offer, to make you actually lose the evidence?"
"I don't work cheap. If he can bring back the dead and give me Andy
back, okay. Otherwise, I got enough money to live with, and my self-
respect doesn't come cheap." Hart gets to her feet. "For five million,
cold clean cash right here on the table, maybe. That's just me, paying
off everyone else is extra. Otherwise, forget it and fuck off to jail."
Nash actually seems reassured that Hart has an admitted price and that
it's damn high.
+++++end video
Young, cocky, overconfident, able to learn, and smart enough to know
when to shut up.
He reminds me of... me.]<<<<<
-- Lt. Julianne Hart <23:56:42/06-08-61>
Lone Star (Tacoma)
