The Empire State
The Empire State
Olivia Dunham: tall, slim with lightly curled long blonde hair. She looked out of place as she stood there in the middle of the room full of men who were all looking at her; some were sneering, some were laughing while the odd one looked expressionless with a quiet nervous feeling forming in their stomachs. They were all cops, each and every last one of them and as a rule cops looked after their own. This was not the case for Olivia Dunham as she stood there in the main work rooms of one of New York City's numerous police stations. She wore a white blouse with a jacket and pants that were a dark colour, almost red. Her lips shone with a vibrant red lipstick that was the only make-up on her otherwise plain face. Despite that she was elegantly beautiful, another way she was out of place surrounded by the gruff detectives and rugged cops. The one person she was close to, a man named Broyles, watched from the distance as she stood before one of her superiors who had is hand held out palm up. Lieutenant Broyles was one of the people who looked nervous. Without saying a word, Dunham did what was expected of her, causing him to relax slightly. She slapped her badge into the hand of her superior and then turned on her heel to walk to the door. As she moved the jeering started. Mocking remarks followed Dunham as she went to the coat stand, taking her brown stylish trench coat and trilby hat. She gazed over to Broyles, the one who was not laughing at her, clapping disrespectfully or jeering mockingly. He just looked at her with unblinking dark eyes. Then he nodded. It was a nod of appreciation. Dunham did not expect this from him; she did not expect anything from anyone. Not anymore. Still she took what she got and whenever she thought back to this day she decided to think back to Broyles' appreciative nod.
It had been six months since that day when Lieutenant Broyles gave Olivia that supportive nod but she did not think about that, not anymore. Her life was different now. It had improved. She set up her own office and was conducting quite good business. It was not the usual kind of business that people traditionally did when starting their own enterprises. She did not sell things to people nor did she consult businesses or private individuals about security or the law. The service she provided was a personal service and it was one she did very well. Over the past six months she helped women find their missing lovers, reunite parents with their runaway children and exposed cheaters who had betrayed their partners. Olivia Dunham had her own office. Printed on the outside of the glazed glass doors in bold were the words O. Dunham – Private Investigatons.
Dunham was in a very different environment to the one when she worked with the police. Despite the fact that the job was more or less the same, solving cases, Dunham had a greater sense of freedom. She did not like the restrictions that the police had imposed on her and the other detectives. She could not tolerate the people she had to work with, many of whom were either incompetent or lazy. She loathed the amount of corruption on the force; the kind of corruption that was so strong and deeply based that New York was under the control of the criminals rather than the state.
This corruption was good news for business. Back in the day you were statistically likely to be the victim of any form of crime only twice in your life time. Right now in New York, that number had risen. Substantially. With the public's faith lost in the "honest" men and women of the NYPD, they turned to the private sector in order to get things done. There was nothing more trustworthy than cold hard cash and in this respect those in the private sector were little different from the guys who took bribes in the police force. However the main difference was that while they were paid to overlook crime and "misplace" suspects, Dunham was paid to do their jobs for them. She was a good detective and the day she left the force was the day New York City got a little more dangerous, or so her partner John Scott always said.
Her partner both personally and professionally, Detective Scott was the kind of guy who did not fit in. This is why Dunham liked him as much as she did. He seemed too nice to have lived in the city all his life and he was far too handsome to have still been single when he first met Dunham. He was too skilled at various forms of self-defence to not be taken seriously and he was too proficient with firearms to claim that he had never been a part of any form of law enforcement or crime syndicate. John Scott was what he was; an anomaly in the big bad city. There was a brightness to him that Olivia liked and whenever he walked into her office, like he had just done right now, he always seemed to bring with him an almost tactile energy that made things good. He sat down in Olivia's visitor's chair and she looked away from her computer.
"Hey," Scott smiled at her warmly. Dunham silently smiled back a toothy grin. "I sent Esther home for the day; we've been a bit slow recently." Esther Figglesworth was the assistant to Dunham and Scott. She was a bright kid but a bit too cheerful to have come from the city. Like her bosses, Esther did not fit in with the rest of New York which is possibly why she was here working for them. "I wonder if everyone in the world is suddenly starting to turn over a new leaf and become nice?"
"I hope not," Dunham's tone was only half sarcastic. "We'd be out of the job otherwise." Scott laughed and took her left hand and ran his thumb over the finger between her little one and middle one. Scott looked at the diamond engagement ring he had brought her a few weeks earlier and smiled, he did so every time he saw it. It was perfect; stylish and elegant without being too large to be ludicrous or too small to be measly. When he slipped it on her finger it fitted perfectly.
"I don't think it'd be a bad thing if we moved away from all of this," Scott told her. "We could spend more time together."
"We spend roughly twenty-four hours together," Dunham grinned. "Minus bathroom breaks."
"We spend most of our time working," Scott went on. "It'd be nice to do more fun things together."
"Oh yeah?" Dunham switched off her computer and took her hand back. Resting her elbows on her table and placing her chin on her fists she smiled in a flirtatious manner. "Like what?" Scott looked into his fiancé's eyes and then stood up, closing the door to her office.
In the crowded streets of Times Square there was a man running. A person running through Times Square was not something that had been never seen before. When it rained people ran for shelter. When it was busy people hurried to catch their bus. Right now a man was running because of danger. He turned to see the two who were chasing him; tall men in dark suits with short fedoras. Their gaze was focused on him; an intense stare that could not be broken. They pursued him relentlessly, almost mechanically. They ran at the same pace and were slowly catching up with him.
The man decided to be drastic and separated himself from the crowd, running into the road. He jumped through the oncoming barrage of Chevrolets and Fords, narrowly avoiding being run over on several occasions. His pursuers followed him into traffic, keeping their eyes on him the whole time. Despite this they avoided all of the cars that came their way.
The man reached the busy crossroads and hesitated. He looked over his shoulder and saw the two men closing in on him. He had to make a decision; almost certainly get run down by traffic or allow the men in fedoras to catch up to him. In less than a second the man ran into the crossroads.
A large bus crashed into the side of him and his body went flying across the road. The men in fedoras stopped their pursuit. A crowd began to gather around the man lying on the road. He was coughing up blood and twitching. His pursuers were forced the hang back, unable to do their job with the sudden public interest. They faded away into the background. Meanwhile the man on the ground reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, his hand trembling as he did so. Then, suddenly, he coughed up a mouthful of blood before he went still. His arm went still. The piece of paper in his hand still opened slightly in the wind. Written on it was an address. The name at the top read Olivia Dunham.
The first thing Dunham did when she heard the knocking was look at the time on her mobile telephone. It was a little after four in the morning. Groaning with tiredness, she pulled herself out of bed when she heard the knocking on her front door. It was loud and forceful. She pulled one of John Scott's discarded shirts from the bedroom floor and used it to cover herself. Even though Scott did not live there, he still kept some of his things there in case things got passionate during one of his visits. His shirt was massive on her and went down to her thighs, showing off her smooth legs to whomever she would open the front door to.
Dunham was surprised to see Broyles standing in her doorway. He was wearing dark tan trench coat and trilby.
"Dunham," he greeted her. Olivia stood there in the doorway and folded her arms, standing at a slightly slant.
"I would say it's a nice surprise to see you but, you know, I wouldn't want to lie." She placed emphasis on the last word in her sentence. Broyles closed his eyes for a moment, suppressing some sort of reaction. He then looked up at her with a neural expression.
"Can I come in?"
"If that was an actual question I'd consider it." Dunham stepped aside and allowed Broyles into her home. "But not for long." He had been here once before but that was years ago. He saw that nothing had changed.
"I like what you've done with the place."
"Why are you here?" Dunham was blunt as she closed the door and went to lean against the kitchen counter. She did not bother to offer Broyles a seat. "If you want to catch up on the old days then you can just leave right now."
"I'm here on official business," Broyles told her. His voice was strong and authoritative. "And before you start getting your hopes up, no I am not offering you a job."
"Oh dang it," Dunham retorted sarcastically. "And there I was getting my hopes up of returning to the pig farm."
"We've got a case."
"And you need my help?"
"And you're involved."
Dunham's sarcastic tone was suddenly dispelled. Boyles removed his hat and placed it on the coffee table, taking a seat on the couch. This was going to be a long visit, Dunham thought. She moved away from the kitchen and went to the liquor cabinet. She poured herself some scotch without looking at Broyles.
"I'd offer you one but you're on duty." Dunham put the bottle back in the cabinet. "Not that that ever stopped you."
"A man got hit by a bus last night in Times Square," Broyles told her as she sat down in the chair opposite him. Dunham crossed her legs as she sat. "His name was Richard Steig."
"Can't say I know any Steig's," Dunham said truthfully as she swirled the alcohol in her glass. "Can't say I know why a homicide lieutenant is involved in a traffic accident, either."
"We're treating this as a case of murder," Broyles leant forward and put his hands together. Dunham took a sip of scotch. "Before he was hit by the bus, Steig was seen running through oncoming traffic. He was trying to get away from something. He was then seen pausing at an intersection before he decided to run into busy high speed traffic. He chose to get killed by a bus over whatever he was running from. Obviously he was a very troubled man."
"Obviously." Dunham's tone was dry, almost uninterested. Of course she was interested why a man she had never even heard of, let alone met, had led the police to her but she decided to let Broyles tell her everything naturally. She did not want to seem too keen. Broyles reached into his coat and pulled out a photocopy of Steig's PIC.
"This is the guy's Personal Identity Card. Recognise him?" Dunham examined the photocopy. Steig had silly medium length hair and an odd expression but he was not someone she had ever come across before. Dunham had a photographic memory so she knew this for certain.
"Sorry," she sat back in her seat. Broyles sighed and put the photocopy away. It was then he noticed the engagement ring on Olivia's finger.
"Who's the lucky guy?"
"Who's Steig?" There was a moment of silence.
"We don't know."
"You don't know?" Dunham repeated. "But you have his PIC. PICs have everything about a person; their address, medical history, bank details... How can you not know who this guy is?"
"All of his records are clean."
"By clean you mean nonexistent?"
"That's the only way for something to be clean. All we got was his name."
Dunham considered the implications of what Broyles was saying. A man who technically did not exist was running away from something before he became road kill. This was disturbing; no one had nothing in their files. From birth people's records were added to a government server where everything about them would be stored. When the person turned eighteen they were issued with their PIC; a card with a holographic image taking up one side with the other side containing information about the cardholder. This card could be used to purchase things as it proved someone's identity and was connected to the individual's bank and other important information. A PIC held everything there was about a person and it was as slim as any other card and could fit inside any wallet or purse. A person was nothing without their PIC and to find a person who essentially did not have one was very interesting.
"So how did I get involved? It must be hard for a guy who doesn't exist to point you guys in my direction."
"He had some paper on him," Broyles elaborated. "It had your name and address on it along with some more information that I'm not going to disclose with you. I've said too much already; I only came here to see if you knew him."
"You don't think I'm a suspect?" Broyles looked at Olivia very seriously for a moment. He then gave her the same look he had given her six months ago.
"Dunham," he spoke sincerely, "if anyone came here suspecting that you had committed a crime then they'd be wasting their time." Olivia suddenly felt a warmness grow inside of her. She covered her smile by drinking the last of her glass. She had no idea why she was suddenly feeling warm toward Broyles after one nice comment. She decided it must have been the scotch and decided to stop drinking for the moment.
"Well it's good to know the PD still has warm fuzzy feelings toward me." Dunham got to her feet and went to get some water.
"A couple of the guys did suspect you might somehow be involved," Broyles said as she filled up her scotch glass from the tap. "We have security tapes from various businesses seeing Steig running through the streets. We have nothing of you so you're in the clear."
"I was with John at the office until eleven," Olivia told Broyles to prove her alibi. She had not known when Steig had died but she assumed it had been around eight or nine; during the rush hour. As she sat down again she realised that she had just used John's name. Damn.
"Is John the guy who gave you that rock on your hand?"
"So what if he is?"
"You need to tell him to spend a little bit more on a more impressive ring," Broyles was sat with his arm over the back of the couch. "That thing looks like it belongs on the finger of a Barbie doll."
"I suppose I should take your marriage advice," Dunham said, looking at the ring. "I mean no one in the whole city has had as many weddings as you have." Broyles was almost famous for having a large number of ex-wives. Olivia was not sure of how many and to be honest she was not entirely confident that Broyles himself knew. He cracked a smile at her.
"So who is he?"
"Oh no," Olivia said, putting her glass down on the table. "We're not having this discussion."
"And why not?"
"Because you came here for business and now your business is done so you can leave."
"I'll decide when my business with you is over," Broyles' tone was not menacing, more meddling. "Steig may have been running to see this John and got your names wrong. Is he here now?"
"No," Olivia sighed angrily. "He has his own place. We're moving in together soon though."
"He's not here spending time with his fiancé?" Broyles scratched his nose and then put his arm back over the chair. "Now that is criminal."
"That is about all of the patience I have for you," Dunham stood up. She went to the door and opened it. "Thanks for the visit. It's been as fun as I thought it would be." Broyles took his hat and went over to the doorway. He stopped before he left and looked over at Dunham, standing close to her. He lingered there for a moment.
"Thanks for the information." As he left, Dunham closed the door. She waited there for a moment before she looked at Broyles' PIC she had just taken from his pocket. Dunham ran into her bedroom. She pulled out clothes and hastily got dressed. She grabbed her hat and car keys before leaving the apartment, not bothering to turn off the lights.
Dunham stormed down the stairwell as she was halfway through pulling her trench coat on. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs she tentatively opened the door to check no one was in the main foyer. She then ran out of the stairwell, through the foyer and outside onto the street. She looked over and saw Broyles on the other side of the road getting into his car. Ducking down behind her own, Dunham watched as she saw Broyles drive away. Climbing behind the wheel of her car, Dunham put it into gear and started following him.
As she kept a distance of three cars behind him, Dunham reached into her pocket and called Esther. Her assistant was still in bed, like many people in New York were at this time. She sleepily brushed her short, dark curly hair from her face and picked up the telephone.
"Esther Figglesworth."
"It's me." That was all she needed. Esther sat up, groaning slightly.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Too bad; I need you to do something for me."
"Yeah well if you want me to work crazy hours I'm going to need that overtime pay you'll be promising."
"You know I'm good for it," Dunham said slyly.
"You've not paid it since my first day!" Esther exclaimed. "What makes you think that I'm going to suddenly run out to do your bidding at this time of night?"
"Because it's important," Dunham told her. "And because that's just the kind of girl you are." Esther sighed and rubbed her face. Dunham was right, of course. She could never say no to her. She was not sure why but she just could not go against her will. Esther liked Dunham, despite all of her flaws. She was a good person in a bad world that kept trying to knock her down. Esther would always be there to help her get back up.
"What can I do for you?"
"I want you to go to the office and look into a guy named Richard Steig. He's a ghost; he doesn't have any details whatsoever. There's just the name. Richard Steig."
"You want me to go on the search for a ghost?" Esther paused as she wrote down Steig's name on the notepad she kept on her bedside table just in case. "You know that's impossible."
"That's why I asked you to do it," Dunham grinned. Esther could hear her smile.
"I'll do my best," Esther promised. "What's this all about?"
"New case. I'll contact you in a few hours." Dunham hung up and continued following Broyles down the road.
After a ten minute drive Broyles stopped outside his home; an apartment building in Queens. He went inside without looking either way down the street. Even if he did he would not have seen Dunham skulking in the shadows. After a reasonable amount of time she went over toward his car and picked the lock on the door. She let herself inside and went straight for the glove box where she pulled out the miniature computing device. Sliding Broyles' PIC across the identity strip, she placed it on the driver's seat. Broyles would look at it and think that it would have merely dropped from his pocket.
Satisfied she had covered her tracks; Dunham accessed the computer and began searching for the Richard Steig case. She wanted to know who this man was and why he had wanted to see her. All she found were the photocopies of his PIC with no other information. She sent what she could to Esther's EIM so that she would get it as soon as she arrived at the office. She then tried to search through the police database. She found all of the relevant security camera footage of Steig running through the streets. She decided to send that to Esther, too. As the files downloaded, Dunham tried to dig further but was suddenly hit by a flashing message. Access Denied. Curious, Dunham thought. Broyles was quite high up in his precinct; he should surely have access to the relevant files relating to the case. She decided to call it a day and went to deactivate the computer but saw that half of the file was yet to download. She got out of the car and waited.
"Hey," she heard a voice from the darkness. Dunham looked over and saw a heavily muscled man approaching her. She could tell almost immediately that he was up to no good. She remembered that she had left her gun at home. Broyles would no doubt have a spare his car but she could not exactly reach in and get it now.
"Hello," Dunham nodded, trying to sound casual.
"You look like you're up to something," the man grinned.
"So what if I am?" Dunham shrugged. "You don't look like the kind of guy I should worry about ratting me to the feds."
"True," the man nodded, stepping closer. "But you don't look like the kind of girl who should be doing whatever it is you're doing."
"And what am I doing?"
"Hanging around a dark street, looking for something."
"I'm not looking for anything."
"You sure about that?" There was a moment of silence. Olivia wondered if he thought that she was a prostitute.
"I'm not a pay-for escort," Dunham decided to nip that thought in the bud. The man grinned.
"Don't worry," he suddenly grabbed her neck and pulled her close to him. "I wouldn't pay anyway."
Dunham found herself being thrown into a dark alley. The ground was slightly damp and as she let out a cry of pain her voice echoed. She managed to get to her feet and saw the guy coming after her. Why me? Why now? Taking decisive action, Dunham ran forward and kicked the man in the groin. He bent over in pain and she was able to use her knee to kick his face. She felt is nose break against her bone. Her attacker grabbed her by the arm and twisted it, forcing Dunham to twist her whole body around. He wrapped his arm around her neck and then forced her against one of the walls. He began whispering in her ear.
"A girl like you should be used to it in an alley."
Dunham used the back of her head to head butt him. His grip loosened and she was able to free herself. Dunham attempted to run but he grabbed her wrist. She turned and using her left hand, swung at his face. The man let out a terrific cry and fell to the ground. Dunham saw that he hand was suddenly covered in blood and knew what had happened. Her ring had sliced through his eye. She immediately took flight, running to Broyles' car. She was thankful that the download had finished and turned off the computer, locking the doors and closing them after leaving everything as it was, with the exception of the drop of blood that fell onto the sheepskin seat. Dunham made it to her own car and drove away after wiping her hands dry. As she drove past she looked into the alley and saw the man writhing on the ground. Around the corner she made an emergency call from a payphone to get him help before she continued her journey home.
As soon as Dunham entered the office in the state that she was in, Esther got up and ran to her. Most of the blood on her belonged to the other guy but she did have a minor graze on her forehead. Esther began applying antiseptic, just in case. The disinfectant caused Dunham to wince slightly but it was far from unbearable.
"I'm sorry!" Esther cried. "Does it hurt?"
"Actually no," Dunham joked. "It feels pretty good. Please; keep doing it." Esther laughed. She always liked her sense of humour.
"So do you know who this guy was?"
"Some opportunist," Dunham shrugged. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"From the sounds of it he was the one who was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Esther finished swabbing her graze. "Speaking of which; why were you there?"
"I needed to get a hold of police information that only Broyles has access to," Dunham's tone was very matter of fact. "Richard Steig wasn't a whole lot to go on. Now we have his PIC and security camera footage."
"Are you crazy?" Esther cried. "You were stealing evidence of an ongoing police investigation?"
"Not stealing: copying."
"An attitude like that will turn you into a permanent guest of the state."
"Why does everyone think that's a bad thing anyway? You get a free bed; three warm meals a day..."
"Abuse from your cellmate?"
"I can handle myself."
"I can see that," Esther sighed, wiping her brow with her forearm. "Look; just promise me that you won't do anything crazy like this again."
"Yes, Mom."
"I'm serious!" Esther looked at Dunham sternly. Olivia could not tell whether she was trying act like a mother or a sister toward her. Maybe she was being something different altogether. "So what did you find? I've not had a chance to look through it all yet."
"Well I kept trying to dig but I was hit by a block: access denied."
"Really?" Esther looked intrigued. "I assume you were looking for cases related to this one?"
"Yup," Dunham nodded.
"Well why is access denied to a high ranking lieutenant in a case where a guy was hit by a bus?"
"Two possibilities spring to mind," Dunham pointed the image of Steig's PIC on the computer screen. "Either this guy is important or what he was running from was important: important enough to be classified."
"Olivia, I have a bad feeling about this."
"Me too..." Dunham looked at the screen, thinking. "Me too..."
Elsewhere on the other side of town, the two men who had been chasing Richard Steig through the streets stepped into a room. Up close they looked unusual. They were bald with no eyebrows, no eyelashes and not even a hint of any facial hair. Their gaze was very deliberate.
"Steig has been killed," one of them said with a dull tone to his voice.
"The item he held was taken by the police," said the other with the same tone. "Philip Broyles is in charge of the case." The man they were speaking to turned around. He was dressed identically and was equally as bald. His name was Gemini.
"Our benefactors will not be pleased with this development."
"What should we do to rectify this situation?"
"Should we eliminate Broyles?"
"No," Gemini's voice was subtly firm. His expression remained neutral. "We must do this with minimal bloodshed."
"What would you suggest?"
Gemini thought for a moment, looking away. He then looked back at the other two, his movements were very deliberate, almost mechanical.
"We must go to where Steig had come from," he suggested. "That way we will be able to find out who he was running to see and for what purpose."
"I agree; that is a good plan."
"I know where he came from." Gemini and the other man looked over to him, silently demanding an answer. "Have any of you heard of Dr Walter Bishop?"
Few people had heard of Dr Walter Bishop. He was a man blessed with a fantastic gift; the gift of knowledge. Any area Walter studied, medical, scientific or mathematic he was able to master the discipline with ease. He was a scientist many years ahead of his time. He had invented a total of 147 objects, machines and devices each with varying functions. He was incredibly successful.
Despite his accomplishments he was always saddened. There was always a dark cloud lingering over Dr Bishop and nothing that anyone did could fix him. He was always permanently saddened. He was also slightly off the wall. His lab at Harvard University, Cambridge, was a testament to his quirkiness. Test tubes holding various brightly coloured solutions dotted the landscape. Large machines with unknown purposes were everywhere. In the corner was a large cow that he named Gene. Originally meant to be a test subject, Gene had become something of Walter's best friend. He sat there in his lab alone as he usually did. Today was no exception. He was muttering something to Gene when he saw something that caught his eye on the television. He stood up and went over to the box to turn the dial, increasing the volume. It was a news report of someone being killed by a bus in New York. Authorities were struggling to identify the man whose picture was flashed on the screen. Walter gasped as he saw Steig's photograph pop up on screen. He fell back into his chair and felt a great sense of helplessness.
Everything was going so wrong.
John Scott had joined Dunham and Esther in the investigation. Who was Richard Steig and why had he come to visit Olivia? Who had been chasing him and why? Esther was attempting to look through public databases to find Steig but kept coming up empty. All information regarding him was blocked by an unknown source. Esther had taken it upon herself to try and identify the source of the block.
Meanwhile Dunham and Scott went to the scene where Steig had died. There was nothing left at the scene, of course, but they had a different plan. They followed Steig's path in reverse from the night he had died. Walking along his route they turned every corner he had as directed by the security camera footage. They eventually arrived at a bus terminal that buses from all over the country came to, transporting people to New York City.
Steig could have come from anywhere in the country. They showed his picture around the bus terminal but no one could be particularly helpful. Unless Esther struck gold they would most likely never know where he came from. They changed tactics slightly. Dunham and Scott walked by the path Steig had used to get to his final destination. He had not been running the entire way, they decided. All of the security footage showed him running but soon that ran out when it got close to the bus terminal. If he were to go to Dunham's then he must have caught a cab since it was far too far to walk. Using that logic they walked some of the distance toward her apartment when they came across something interesting. Several blocks away from Times Square was the site of severe construction on one of the roads. Traffic was stood still. If the cabbie took Steig this way there must have been a reason why he got out of the vehicle and started running.
Dunham and Scott went into several local businesses that had security cameras outside their premises and asked politely if they could see the footage. Most of what they saw was not useful. But then something stuck out. Standing on the sidewalk in one screen were two men dressed in black with fedora hats. They were motionless until they saw Steig run past, then they chased after him. This explained why the original security footage the police picked up did not show the origin of Steig; he had come from a different direction. He must have run through the construction zone where there were no cameras and then made it along side streets until he came on camera view. Dunham stood back as she saw the footage, thinking.
When they got back to the office they checked through the security footage of Steig gathered from Broyles' car. They did not see any of the two men anywhere. Olivia decided to call them "the Watchers" since they were watching for Steig. The Watchers must have been chasing Steig through Times Square. Why else would he have run into oncoming traffic? But why were they not on the security footage? It did not make sense. Scott's theory was that the footage must have been altered but could not explain how. It was as if the Watchers' presence had been completely omitted from the video as simply as deleting a line of text from an electronic word processing machine. There were several instances where either Dunham or Scott noticed that several members of the crowd were reacting to something that was invisible. They could be seen in person but not on film? Were the Watchers the human equivalent of invisible ink? Why were they seen on the camera by the construction site and not by Times Square?
Olivia sat down to take a break but stood up when she heard Esther talking excitedly.
"I've found something!" Dunham and Scott surrounded her and her computer. "I've managed to trace the location of the people who have been blocking the files on Steig."
"Good job, Esther," Dunham placed her hand on her shoulder appreciatively. "Who are these people?"
Massive Dynamic. That was the name of the multinational business that was blocking the files on the police servers. Massive Dynamic were masking everything there was to know about Richard Steig. Dunham and Scott arrived at their headquarters in New York to find out why.
The company was huge with millions of employees worldwide. Founded by super genius William Bell, the corporation prided itself on being able to take the fringe boundaries of modern science and push them. William Bell was blessed with imagination. Whatever he thought of came to be. He had invented nearly 1000 different machines or devices that made the world a better place. He was a visionary and one of the wealthiest people on the planet. Naturally he was not available to talk. However when Dunham mentioned the name Richard Steig, the person on reception almost immediately assigned them an escort. They were taken up to the high levels of the building and were introduced to Nina Sharp, Bell's right hand woman.
"Good afternoon, detectives," she smiled, gesturing to the two visitors chairs by her desk. "Please have a seat." Sharp was short and had shoulder length red hair. She wore sleek, elegant black business dress. She gave off an air of superiority and confidence. She subtly made it clear that she was not a woman that any wise person would interfere with. "It's my understanding that you've given our security people a little bit of a fright."
"Oh?" Dunham took off her hat and placed it on Sharp's table.
"You're looking for Richard Steig," Sharp elaborated. "Not a name that is particularly popular around here I must say. Why are you looking for him?" Dunham exchanged a look with Scott.
"We're trying to find out who and where he is."
"Well the where part shouldn't be a problem," Sharp smiled. "He's in the morgue."
Damn, she reads the papers.
"Well we're more interested in who he is," Scott took over.
"I see," Sharp nodded.
"We also know that your company is trying to make sure that no one finds out who he is." Sharp looked at Scott, her expression never changing. She sat forward and put her hands together.
"I'm not going string you along here," she said candidly. "I'm going to chose to not ask the question of how you know about that." Sharp was direct and to the point. Dunham liked this. "What I will say instead is that Richard Steig was a dangerous man. The world is better off without him."
"That's a pretty cold thing to say," Dunham commented.
"It's a pretty accurate thing to say," Sharp looked at her intently. "It is no exaggeration that Steig was dangerous. He is potentially still very dangerous."
"What do you mean?"
"As you know Massive Dynamic is one of the most affluent businesses in the world. We have created an empire that spans the entire world forming a state of technological advances beyond our wildest imaginations. Massive Dynamic is essentially the ruler of all things on the cutting edge; the head of state if you will. That's why I call it the Empire State. We are so massive that everything that flows through our world comes through us.
"Naturally with all of that power we have one or two people who wish to abuse it. Richard Steig was one of those people. He was caught selling our technologies to third parties; technologies that are both expensive and incredibly dangerous. I won't go into the details but suffice it to say; Steig was caught and his files were handed over to the appropriate people. Given the nature of what he stole his files were classified to protect Massive Dynamic and to protect the population. If what he stole were to get out there could be a great deal of fuss."
"So you're in the business of creating dangerous weapons?" Dunham asked.
"Amongst other things, yes. We live in a world where personal security is more important than ever. Crime is up, arrests are down: people need something to keep them safe. That is why your business is doing so well." This conversation was leaving a bad taste in Olivia's mouth.
"We'd like to access the files on Richard Steig," Scott said. "We believe he may be very important with regards to a case we're working on. Naturally we would not be interested in any of your corporation's secrets." Sharp thought for a moment.
"I'm not sure I'd be happy with giving you access to our files."
"Ms Sharp we're not interested in your company's secrets," Dunham spoke sincerely. "We just want to find out about Richard Steig. We believe he was going to meet with someone before he died. If that is the case then that person may be in serious danger." Sharp thought for a moment, not taking her eyes off Olivia. She then lifted up the receiver of her phone.
"Would you please send an SO up here?" She hung up and folded her hands. "I like you, detective Dunham. You're a far cry from the usual investigative bodies one sees around this city."
"Thank you."
"Of course this does not mean that I will let you run free within our company's secrets however I can say that I trust you. You seem to be a woman of your word. With that in mind I have a compromise." A young woman entered the room. She was taller than Olivia with dark skin and hair. "This is security officer Amy Jessup. I will assign her to you while you work this case. She will not record any details of your investigations; she will merely be your guide through Massive Dynamic's computer archives." Dunham looked over at Jessup. She looked stern.
"Thank you, Ms Sharp."
"I'll give Jessup all relevant information and then you can be on your way." They turned to leave before Sharp stopped them. "Just before you go remember this; Richard Steig was a dangerous man. That means that the people he was associated with are equally as dangerous. If I were you I would involve the police before things get out of hand." Dunham and Scott thanked Sharp before leaving with Jessup. Sharp stood in her office and moved to the window, looking out over New York. Rapping her fingers on the glass she closed her eyes and sighed.
It did not take long, with Jessup's help, to go through Steig's files. A brilliant scientist, Steig had a bright future ahead of him. He idiotically began selling Massive Dynamic prototypes to an unknown third party before falling under the radar, vanishing until the moment he and the bus ran into each other. Jessup and Esther worked together, something which Esther hated as she despised people using her computing machine, and they soon found out something interesting. Richard Steig went to Harvard University and a lot of his conversations frequented a lab on the campus. It was impossible to trace but it was certainly in one of the academic buildings. Jessup discovered that Steig's former professor was a man named Walter Bishop. Dunham decided to make a trip to Harvard and visit Bishop. Scott could not go due to other commitments so it was just Dunham and Jessup driving the nearly four hours to Cambridge.
During the trip Dunham learnt a little about Jessup. She had been working for Massive Dynamic for two years. Her job mostly involved making sure security risks were dealt with effectively. Olivia was not sure how to take that answer. Nevertheless, she was very good company on the long drive. When the two finally arrived at Harvard, they got out and soon found out where Dr Bishop's lab was. When they reached it Jessup went straight through the door, not knocking as she found that you learnt more when you did not knock. Inside they saw Bishop and two tall men wearing dark suits and fedoras. They were the Watchers. One of them saw them come in and began shooting.
Jessup yelled at Dunham to get down. The Watcher's weapons did not use bullets but they made a loud noise and caused great damage. Taking cover behind a pillar, Dunham looked out and saw Dr Bishop being taken away by the other Watcher. Jessup was firing shots at the one who stayed but he, too, was behind a pillar. Dunham had a clear shot at the door they had just come through and managed to run through it before the Watcher blasted the door off its hinges. Jessup looked after where Olivia had run to but was pinned down.
Dunham ran through the corridors of Harvard. Students were looking around nervously due to the sounds that were coming from the lab. Through a window Dunham saw the Watcher holding Dr Bishop as a fireman would when they rescued people from buildings. She needed to get out there but had no time to run around the other side of the building. The window was sealed shut. Dunham, in desperation, pulled a litterbin and pushed it through the glass. The Watcher looked around at the sound and saw Dunham chasing after him. He fired a few shots but they hit the ground nearby, sending sparks into the air. He was in the student car park and was obviously close to getting away. Dunham was close to catching up with him.
Meanwhile Jessup was still shooting at the Watcher. She knew that she needed a plan and fast. The Watcher fired a shot just above her head and part of the ceiling fell on top of her. Jessup was pinned to the ground. She could not move. The Watcher moved over to her and looked at her as if she were some trapped animal. His expression was one of intrigue but she did not interest him enough to warrant keeping her alive. He lifted the gun to her head.
The next shots that Jessup heard were from a regular gun. The Watcher dropped his gun as blood trickled from two wounds in his chest. He fell back dead. Jessup looked up and saw two men moving toward her. One was tall with short black hair. The other had lighter hair.
"Charlie Francis," the man with dark hair identified himself. "This is Lincoln Lee. Are you alright, ma'am?"
"I'm fine," Jessup got to her feet with the assistance of Lincoln. "Thanks."
"We're looking for Peter Bishop do you know where he is?" Jessup frowned.
"Peter Bishop?" she repeated.
Olivia was dodging shots from the Watcher. He had reached a van and threw Walter into it. She ran around several parked cars for cover and had a clean shot for the van. She took it.
Halfway across the parking lot Dunham was tapped on the back. A Watcher threw her against the side of the van and restrained her arms with something. Dunham struggled but was lifted off her feet and thrown in the back of the van along with Walter. The van then drove off.
Inside the dark interior, Dunham struggled with her restraints.
"I am so sorry, Miss," Walter Bishop said to her. "I did not wish for anyone else to get involved in all of this."
"I'm not sure I can believe that," Dunham struggled, "considering how you sent a crazy mad man to look for me." Walter looked suddenly excited.
"Oh! Are you Olivia Dunham?"
"Yes," Olivia nodded.
"Well then," Walter sighed. "There's hope for us yet."
"Of course there is, Walter," said a second voice from the darkness. Olivia looked over and saw a younger man tied up. He had rugged good looks and light hair. "An unarmed woman has been bound up like the both of us and thrown into the back of this van. We're surely saved now."
"Who are you?" Olivia asked.
"I'm his son," the man sighed, gesturing to Walter. "The one and only Peter Bishop."
To be continued in part two, coming soon. What do you guys think? Let me know how I can improve! Andy!