A Partner Calls

We were a bit late getting started this morning, but Maizie and I rolled into the office about 9:00. It was good to get out and walk again, though I found that I needed to take it a bit slower even in the lighter rain this morning. Riley grabbed a towel and rubbed Maizie down quickly as I put my hat and coat in the closet. She cooed over the dog, rubbing it and talking about how she shouldn’t have to walk in this nasty weather. By the time she was done, I was getting a little bit jealous. It was going to be a long dreary day. Maizie settled down on her bed after she’d dragged it halfway across the room to put it behind the sofa next to the heat vent. Smart dog. I almost joined her.

After I got settled and caught my breath, I brought out the duplicate drive that I’d made of the laptop yesterday and gave it to Riley to do the recovery while I kept working on the fuzzed files. I sorted entered the numbers and names in a spreadsheet and experimented with sorting them by name and by number. The names reminded me of something again. This time they were in order: Andrea, Barry, Chantal, Dean, Erin, Felix, Gabrielle, Humberto, Ingrid, Jerry, Karen, Lorenzo, Melissa, Noel, Olga, Pablo, Rebekah, Sebastien, Tanya, Van, Wendy.

Riley came in about 11:00 and plopped herself down on the edge of my desk. I looked up at her and she leaned back on one elbow like a lounge singer on a piano bar.

“I know who hit you Saturday night.” I looked up at her. What was she playing at.

“I already knew who hit me,” I said cautiously.

“Not the kind of guy who takes kindly to older men messing around with his girlfriend, is he?” Riley asked. I nodded. “I wonder what he’d do if he found out his girlfriend was planning to run away with one of those older men—say an older man who set her up with her own business.”

I leaned back in my chair appreciating the view of Riley sprawled out across the edge of my desk.

“Okay,” I said, “spill it. What were you investigating yesterday?”

“Angel Woodward,” she answered. That was progress. I didn’t know what her last name was. “Dag, there’s more going on up there than meets the eye. When you go up there you just see girls catering to men who can pay them well.”

“Ah, I see,” I smiled. “You’ve become an expert on the “hostess” industry, eh? So, how’s tricks?”

“You want to know what’s going on, or you just want to stare at my beautiful body all day?” Hmmm. I had to stop and consider on that one.

“What did you find out, Riley. You know I’m all ears.”

“All except the part that’s eyes,” she grinned, but she didn’t shift her provocative pose. “These girls are smart cookies. Did you know that Cinnamon is a Marketing Director at a well-known major local corporation? I’ve learned about a number of them over the past few days talking to Cinnamon and then with Angel. Sierra is a field sales rep for a medical products firm. Allison is a claims adjuster for a major insurance company. Portia owns a string of independent coffee stands and employs twenty-two people. Diva is a software developer. Of the girls that Cinnamon rattled off who work up at The Condo, all were college educated, several had masters degrees and one was a PhD doing Cancer research. And you know what? They all got jobs or businesses through men who are clients at The Condo.”

“Nice work. So you are suggesting that The Condo is a front for a secret society of college educated women who are using their contacts there to take over the economic structure of Seattle,” I said. “That’s very James Bond.”

“No,” Riley said, “I’m not suggesting that. I’m just saying that there are an awful lot of really smart women who are using more than their brains to break through the glass ceiling. Whether they ever use last names in The Condo or not, they know who their clients are. They could do a lot of damage if they got upset. And, in order to keep them from being upset, their clients are very nice to them.”

“You named a lot of hostesses up there. What about Angel?”

“Yes, then there is Angel,” Riley continued. “Based on mathematic extrapolation of a limited sample-set, I believe that we could safely assume that Angel does a business of about $15 million a year and pulls down about $1.5 million in commissions and fees.”

“As a hooker?” I exclaimed.

“No, as a travel agent,” Riley said. “She’s not a hooker, at least not in the way that she defines it. She books travel, escorts businessmen on their business dates, and sells cash cards. It is a very, very lucrative business.”

“Why on earth would she be working up at The Condo in addition to that kind of a business?” I could not put this together.

“Well, it’s probably not for the couple extra thousand a week in unreported cash that it brings in,” Riley quipped. “That might motivate some of them, but most figure they could make a hundred grand a year at a regular job. They figure that The Condo puts them in the presence of very powerful men being very powerful. And if a powerful man likes you, he makes the way easier for you outside The Condo, in the real world. He puts in a good word for you with a friend who knows someone who happens to be looking for a marketing executive. There’s never a question of a conflict of interest or improper relations with an employee, because employer and benefactor are never the same person.”

“So Angel goes there to make contacts for her executive travel agency.”

“No, I don’t think so. The contacts get made for her. Angel is there because Simon Barnett set up her business and makes sure she has an unending supply of clients. She’s there for Simon.”

“They sure didn’t impress me like that when I was up there,” I said shaking my head. If Riley was right, most of the women I met in The Condo pull down more money each year than I do. It sure seemed like they also enjoy themselves while doing it.

“Oh, they impressed you all right,” Riley said sweeping her hair back off one side of her face as she turned to look at me with a sleepy-eyed grin that reminded me of Claudette Colbert in “It Happened One Night.” But it was Riley, and she was continuing.

“You never notice us for what we are. Here we practically throw ourselves at your feet and you say ‘Here, recover the data off this laptop,’ or ‘Riley, pick up dogfood on your way to chauffeur me tonight.’ You never realize the real treasure you have right here in your hands.”

Well, she wasn’t exactly in my hands. More like lounging on my desk. But I have to admit, she gave me an idea, and even if it was an evil one, I couldn’t help myself. I’d just found out yesterday that I was going to die before Christmas if I didn’t get a heart transplant. And frankly, on a day to day basis, the chances of that always seemed slim.

“All right Riley,” I said standing up from my desk. “Get your coat. I’ve wondered what you were really made of ever since I met you. It’s time to put your money where your mouth is.” She looked shocked and really thrown for a moment, but then she recovered and went back on the attack.

“Why go? Why not right here?” she asked.

“This is an office not a playground,” I said. “Maizie, guard the office while Riley and I go out for lunch.” Then I turned to Riley again as I slipped into my own coat, “I know just the place. It’s not far from here.” As we left the pier, I put up my umbrella and used one arm to pull Riley close to me so she wouldn’t get wet. I could feel her tense a little. Oh, I do know a little about women… at least this one.

We walked down the waterfront past the Aquarium in silence. Riley was tense, and she was surprised when we turned right into Pier 57—The Bay Pavilion. I unfurled the umbrella and led her to the end of the pier where there’s a huge game arcade and a merry-go-round.

I bought two ten dollar rolls of quarters and handed one to her.

“All right, Riley. Let’s see how hot you really are. Most tickets at the end of their roll gets lunch from the other. And I’d like fish & chips if you please.” I could see her visibly relax at last as a smile broke out across her face.

“Well, plan on buying your own when you pick up my calamari,” she laughed. Then we hit the games. It was hilarious. We did a side-by-side Skee-ball challenge. But soon discovered that even though I beat her by 10,000 points, the machines paid the same number of tickets. It was on to various coin drops, car racing, whack a gator, and even dance fever. I about dropped on that one and conceded the tickets to her. When we were done, I had only 175 tickets to her 310. Well, she’d be just insufferable now. We bought various candy lollipops with the winnings and headed toward the exit.

“Wait, Dag,” Riley said. “I want a picture. Let’s take it in the picture booth.”

“Go ahead,” I laughed. “I think I can dig up another dollar.”

“No, together. I want a picture of the two of us together.” I was surprised.

“I don’t think the two of us will fit in that little booth.”

“Oh, come on. People do it all the time.”

“Aren’t they little people?” Nonetheless she shoehorned me into the photo booth and climbed in with me. I think it is the closest I’ve ever held Riley. There was a fresh clean scent about her. She knew I was sensitive to perfumes, so was always careful not to carry any floral scents about her. I was lost in thought, experiencing the shear joy of being with her when the camera flashed four times and took me by surprise. Well, so much for that picture.

Riley collected the film strip and we left the building. We hit Acres of Clams for Fish & Chips and Calamari and sat laughing about the contest in the Bay Pavilion. I confessed that she played a good game and had fairly beaten me. The weather had broken briefly as we went back to the office, so I didn’t need to put the umbrella up. Riley wrapped her arm around my waist as we walked anyway and I placed min carefully around her shoulders.

Damn the doctors. Life was too good to give up now.

We unlocked the outer door to the office and discovered my door open. That was unusual. I always close that door. I stepped through and caught the surprise of my life. A guy was stretched out on his stomach on the floor with Maizie perched in the middle of his back growling just loud enough that I’m sure he could hear. His arms and hands covered his ears and neck. I could see he was breathing, but he wasn’t desperate enough to challenge the little pitbull perched in the middle of his back.

“Good girl, Maizie,” I said. “Kennel up.” I tossed her a ginger snap from the jar on my desk and Maizie leaped into the air to catch it, then trotted off to her bed behind the sofa to munch it down. I stepped behind my desk and ordered the visitor up as I picked up the phone to call the police. I noticed that Riley had dropped her coat in the doorway and had stepped out of her shoes.

“Suppose you tell me why you’d be inside a locked office with a guard dog on your back,” I said. “I need to tell the police something.” He yelled no and lunged for the telephone. For all his efforts, he ended up sprawled back on the floor, this time with Riley standing over him. I hadn’t even seen how she’d moved to intercept him, but when he got to his knees he was holding his stomach.

“Bitch!” he spat. She reached back to kick him again, but I held up a hand and she backed off a step. “I came for what’s mine,” he yelled. “That bitch had no right to give you his laptop.”

“You’d better have a seat and talk before you try any more heroics, friend,” I said calmly. Frankly my confidence picked up a lot when I saw Riley lay him out. I was impressed and winked at her. She smiled, but didn’t take her eyes off the guy until he was firmly seated in the chair facing me. Then she moved quietly to stand behind him. “What laptop is it that you think I have?”

“Simon Barnett’s. It’s company property. His wife had no right to bring it to you. I came to get it back.” He nodded toward the laptop lying on the floor next to where Maizie had first taken him down. My laptop.

Damn.

“Can you describe this laptop to me,” I said picking up my device and returning to my desk.

“You’re holding it in your hand. What do you mean describe it?” he asked.

“Surely if you are with BKL you must be able to tell me where the asset tag is. You wouldn’t leave company property lying around without an asset tag; your insurance company would insist,” I said turning the laptop over in my hands. “Who are you?”

“Bradley Keane,” he said automatically.

Damn.

Simon Barnett’s partner. According to Angel, the partner was doing work for some organized crime. He must be afraid of what is on Simon’s computer, but I can’t imagine why. Apparently Bradley Keane didn’t even know what Simon’s computer looked like. He must be really afraid of what I might find out to dare a mission like this.

“Mr. Keane, there are a few things that you need to know,” I said. “First off, this isn’t Simon’s computer. Secondly, I don’t leave valuable client property lying around where it can be walked off with. Thirdly, you don’t even know what Simon’s laptop looks like, so I doubt very much that it is company property. If you can bring a police officer in with a subpoena, I’ll be happy to take the laptop in question to court and testify, but unless you want what’s on his laptop brought in as evidence, I’d suggest that you think that option over carefully.”

“Look, Håmar, I know that Simon kept records of our business on his personal laptop. He has been dealing with a syndicate to launder money through our business. He’s been planning to cut and run and leave me holding the bag. The only hope I’ve got is to go state’s evidence with that computer beside me. I’ve got to have that computer.” He was still eyeing my laptop, evidently unconvinced that it wasn’t Simon’s.

“Breaking and entering wouldn’t look very good on your record when went to the authorities,” I said calmly. Was he the villain or the victim? He’d come up with good answers, but I certainly didn’t trust him. “Why don’t we leave it this way, Mr. Keane? You go back to your office and do whatever it is you do to keep busy. I’ll continue my investigation here. If you think of anything that would be helpful in my search to locate Simon Barnett, you give me a call.” I handed him a business card. “It’s much easier than making these personal visits. If I find any incriminating evidence on the computer—which, by the way, I haven’t yet, but I’ll keep an eye out for now—I’ll let you know. I’ll even let you know before I let FINCen know.” He glared at me. “I’ll assume that is an agreement on your part and I don’t really need to call the police in right now. Fair enough?”

Simon’s partner took my card, gave one last look at my computer, glared at Riley, and left. He carefully stepped directly on her coat in the doorway.

“That son of a bitch!” Riley declared as she picked up her coat and brushed it off. She turned to me. “Why did you let him go without calling the police?”

“A couple of reasons Riley. First, I have a pitbull in my office.”

“She’s half dachshund and loveable as can be.”

“She took down a six foot, 200 pound man and made him wet his pants,” I said. “I don’t know how she did it, but I don’t want any kind of claim brought against us that would endanger Maizie.”

“I understand that, but why else,” Riley asked.

“A hunch,” I answered. “Let’s see if I’m right.” I reached for the remote control. I’d never done this in front of Riley but I was feeling daring. It was time she knew how this operation really ran. “Close the door for me, would you sweetcheeks?”

“You want me to leave?” she pouted.

“No,” I answered. “If you are going to be my partner, you’re going to have to learn a little more about the business.” I’ve never seen Riley quite so at a loss for words. She opened her mouth a couple of times, then quietly closed the door and turned toward me. I turned on the TV.

“We’re going to watch TV?” she asked, then went silent as I keyed in the password and the wall behind my desk slid aside to reveal the vault. I heard her gasp a little as I turned and entered it. She was behind me like a magnet on steel. “How many servers do we have in here?” she asked in a hushed tone. I noticed that it didn’t take her long to adopt the “we” pronoun.

“We have ten servers that run our little operation. The wireless base station is focused and the floor has a shield built under it to prevent the signal from being picked up from below. We operate on a VPN to prevent anyone from eavesdropping on our work. There is an eight terabyte disk array that keeps our files backed up and an environmental system that keeps the room cooled to sixty-two degrees. This is where I hook the disks we recover into the system, then give you a copy of the drives to work on. It’s also where I keep valuable things locked up. Like Simon’s computer,” I pointed it out. But that wasn’t what I was in here for right now. I reached up and took the monster laptop that Mr. Oksamma brought in the day before off the shelf.

“Any luck on that disk I gave you this morning?” I asked.

“Not much to it,” Riley answered. It’s got an ancient operating system on it, probably hasn’t been upgraded since it was new ten years ago. Data’s all in tact. No problem restoring the whole drive even to boot capability. The file formats are all pretty old, too.”

“Have you checked dates on any of the information?”

“Not really.”

“I have a feeling this computer hasn’t been used in several years,” I said turning it over. I hadn’t really bothered to examine it when I backed up the disk. Sure enough, an asset tag had been ripped off the device. Thing is, asset tags leave a tag in the residue as well and I grabbed an ultraviolet light and scanned the back. “BKL Ltd. Asset #7124” popped out clearly. I remembered Mr. Oksamma following me into my office when I thought he was leaving. The hulk had actually been casing the place for Bradley Keane.

“Okay, lady. You showed me how good you are at arcade games this morning. Now I want you to show me how well you can break security on an old computer. It shouldn’t really be that hard. Security wasn’t as tight when this baby was in use. I’m betting that the connections to BKL’s network are still intact. Find them.”