Chapter Eighteen
Pricey info and stolen cars
It was later. The ambulance had come and gone, and Fred had swept up most of the broken glass while Gunn had focused on getting rid of the remaining pieces of Angel's office door. Angel was sitting on the coach in the lobby while Cordelia picked pieces of glass out of his face. The general consensus among the group was that maybe Angel had been a bit too confrontational.
"Ok, so maybe Jake shouldn't have asked for quite that much, but we could afford it. It's not like five thousand would break our backs, or anything. Which he almost did to me, I might add."
"Sorry Gunn, but he kept on pushing for more, and I just thought I'd flash my fangs at him, put some fear in him and make him easier to deal with."
"Easier to deal with!? It's going to cost us almost as much to fix this mess, not to mention the hospital bill we've got coming. Did you really have to break both his legs? And just what was it they were saying about his shoulder?"
"That was an accident. And the shoulder wouldn't have happened if he hadn't tried to stake me with the splinters from the door."
"Which he wouldn't have had if you hadn't thrown him through it in the first place."
"He was trying to tear my head off! What was I supposed to do, ask him nicely to stop it?"
"It is not possible for a normal human to actually tear a head off with their bare hands, no matter how strong they might be, so there were never any possibility of him actually managing to kill you that way, Angel."
"It didn't feel like it, Fred. And while he might not have been able to actually do it, that sure didn't keep him from trying. Besides, while he might not have been able to kill me that way, he could have broken my neck and paralysed me. And it did hurt."
"Poor baby. And it never occurred to you that maybe a nearly 7 foot tall leather wearing biker with scars all over his knuckles might not be all that willing to back down for anything?" Cordelia didn't sound particularly comforting as she picked the last piece of glass out of Angel's cheek.
"I thought it was just an act, you know. I mean, come on guys. The guy was a walking cliché. It should have been easy to scare him. And he did tell us what he knew in the end."
"Yeah. He mumbled it while you had him in a choke hold on the floor. And you were sitting on his broken legs, I might add."
"How was I supposed to know they were broken? I'm not a paramedic, you know."
"Well, the paramedics have taken him away, and can I just ask why there are no police around? I could have sworn I heard him yell something about pressing charges."
Angel somehow, possibly due to years of practice, managed to avoid looking sheepish as he answered Cordelia's question. "That would be because I offered him twenty thousand dollars not to do that. Plus the five thousand for the information and promising to pay the hospital bill."
****
Having received notice that Wolfram & Hart were terminating all connections between them and Michael, he'd spent the remainder of the night first in an effort to find out why they no longer wanted his business, and then having to arrange for his affairs to be handled by other firms. The latter was handled rather easily, as he'd long since made it a point to never be entirely dependent on a single firm. The former, though, he found hard to understand, and the people at Wolfram & Hart seemed unwilling to give him a straight answer, beyond stressing that he'd NEVER again be welcome as a client of their firm.
Finally hanging up in frustration, he tried to think things through. He'd used W&H as his main lawyers for almost fifty years now, and had never had reason to complain before. In fact, their reluctance to ask questions he'd rather not answer, and their sometimes creative ways of solving problems, had been most useful to him. Then, the good-will gesture that he'd not appreciated, and now they'd terminated their relationship. He could only assume that somehow he'd not reacted as they'd expected him to, and rather than risk trouble, they were pushing him away. So, what should he do about it?
Sinking back into the chair, he closed weary eyes as he tried to focus, and decided to get the rest he needed before he made a decision. Stifling a yawn he got out of the chair and headed for the bedroom, only to decide to indulge himself a bit. After all, there were no-one around, and the security-systems of the mansion would ensure he stayed undisturbed. Shedding his clothes as he walked into the bathroom, he entered the hot tub with a sigh of pleasure. Closing his eyes, he slowly slid to the bottom of the tub as sleep claimed him.
****
Finally having cleaned up the remaining damage to the Hyperion, the gang had begun making use of the information their not entirely willing, but very well paid, informer had given them. Mostly, the use had consisted of Fred hacking her way into a series of computers, and she was now ready to report her findings.
"I started by hacking into the computers of the hotel Samuel used, and got the name of the person registered at the room in which he waited for the person he met at the elevator, Duncan McCloud, whom I've found no trace of anywhere, so either he used a false name or Jake didn't hear it right. I've tried a few variations of the last name, but got too many possibilities for it to do any good. Besides, I'm leaning towards it being a false name, seeing as Samuel used at least two false identities himself at the hotel."
"Two false identities? Wouldn't one be enough?"
"Not for what he had planned, no. See, what he did was making sure there were no-one following Duncan, and to do that he played a little shell-game. First he hired a room using one identity, and waited there for Duncan to arrive. He then sent Jake to bring him there from the bar, only to intercept them at the elevator. Jake's job was then to wait in the room until the elevator appeared again, and then make sure he was seen leaving it, while the real meeting took place in the room Samuel had hired using another identity."
"So whoever followed Duncan would see Jake come out, and assume the meeting were taking place there. Got it. But how does that help us?"
"Well, when I checked into the background of Chris Jordan, the man who'd hired the first room, I quickly noticed that he's not real. There were too many databases I couldn't find him in. But he did pay using a credit card, and that gave me a peek at how much he's got available. Despite being a non- existing person, he's worth at least ten thousand dollars."
"A nice amount, but not staggering. Enough to make the identity self- sufficient for a short time, but not enough to live on. Sounds like a sacrificial identity to me, possibly intended for short time use only."
"That's what I thought as well, Angel. He expected someone to follow Duncan, and he was willing to surrender the identity to draw them away. I don't think he'll ever use it again."
"You said he used two id's at the hotel. Have you had any luck at finding the other?"
"Actually, I think so, yes. Jake said he introduced himself as Michael when he met Duncan, and there were only one Michael, a Michael Madsen, registered at the hotel at that time. And he checked out just after the time Jake said the meeting happened."
"But this is also a false id, right? So how does that help us?"
"Because this is a very solid id, Angel. I couldn't find anything wrong with it. It exists everywhere it should, it even has an IRS record with taxes paid on time every year. But check this out, two weeks ago it was worth ten thousand dollars. Two days after he ran into Angel, he was worth a million. Money just kept flowing into his account from all over the place."
"Any chance of finding out where it came from?"
"None. I tried, but the trail went through so many blinds and unnamed accounts, I couldn't get anywhere."
"But he got rich two days after meeting me. Lilah hinted that he would be hostile to me. Could it be that he transferred the money to be used against me in some way?"
"It is possible. On the other hand, if the credit records are to be believed, Michael Madsen left for London the day after he got the money, so it could be he just needed some extra cash."
"London? What did he do there?"
"Nothing. He spent no money at all, so I guess he must have used yet another identity while he was there, but there's simply no way for me to find out more about it."
"Ok. When did he get back, then?"
"He used the Michael Madsen identity on the return flight, he got back to O'Hare in Chicago two days ago, then probably used another identity again, because the next time Michael Madsen used money was to rent the hotel room and a car here in L.A."
"He rented a car? Has he returned it yet?"
"Maybe, but then it would have to have been within the last half hour, and he's paid for a week."
"Great! Then we just need to find the car, and we find Samuel."
"But how do we do that? He could be anywhere in the city, or even out of it by now."
"Oh, I think I know someone who can help us."
Angel smiled broadly at his friends as he walked over to the phone and, after checking the printouts from Fred's search, placed a call.
"Hello, this is Michael Madsen. I'm calling about the car I hired from you. It's been stolen...."
****
Author's note: New chapter here, hope you enjoy. Sorry about the delay, but in my defence I can say that it's been in the hands of my beta for a month now, awaiting his response. Reviews are, as always, deeply appreciated.
Pricey info and stolen cars
It was later. The ambulance had come and gone, and Fred had swept up most of the broken glass while Gunn had focused on getting rid of the remaining pieces of Angel's office door. Angel was sitting on the coach in the lobby while Cordelia picked pieces of glass out of his face. The general consensus among the group was that maybe Angel had been a bit too confrontational.
"Ok, so maybe Jake shouldn't have asked for quite that much, but we could afford it. It's not like five thousand would break our backs, or anything. Which he almost did to me, I might add."
"Sorry Gunn, but he kept on pushing for more, and I just thought I'd flash my fangs at him, put some fear in him and make him easier to deal with."
"Easier to deal with!? It's going to cost us almost as much to fix this mess, not to mention the hospital bill we've got coming. Did you really have to break both his legs? And just what was it they were saying about his shoulder?"
"That was an accident. And the shoulder wouldn't have happened if he hadn't tried to stake me with the splinters from the door."
"Which he wouldn't have had if you hadn't thrown him through it in the first place."
"He was trying to tear my head off! What was I supposed to do, ask him nicely to stop it?"
"It is not possible for a normal human to actually tear a head off with their bare hands, no matter how strong they might be, so there were never any possibility of him actually managing to kill you that way, Angel."
"It didn't feel like it, Fred. And while he might not have been able to actually do it, that sure didn't keep him from trying. Besides, while he might not have been able to kill me that way, he could have broken my neck and paralysed me. And it did hurt."
"Poor baby. And it never occurred to you that maybe a nearly 7 foot tall leather wearing biker with scars all over his knuckles might not be all that willing to back down for anything?" Cordelia didn't sound particularly comforting as she picked the last piece of glass out of Angel's cheek.
"I thought it was just an act, you know. I mean, come on guys. The guy was a walking cliché. It should have been easy to scare him. And he did tell us what he knew in the end."
"Yeah. He mumbled it while you had him in a choke hold on the floor. And you were sitting on his broken legs, I might add."
"How was I supposed to know they were broken? I'm not a paramedic, you know."
"Well, the paramedics have taken him away, and can I just ask why there are no police around? I could have sworn I heard him yell something about pressing charges."
Angel somehow, possibly due to years of practice, managed to avoid looking sheepish as he answered Cordelia's question. "That would be because I offered him twenty thousand dollars not to do that. Plus the five thousand for the information and promising to pay the hospital bill."
****
Having received notice that Wolfram & Hart were terminating all connections between them and Michael, he'd spent the remainder of the night first in an effort to find out why they no longer wanted his business, and then having to arrange for his affairs to be handled by other firms. The latter was handled rather easily, as he'd long since made it a point to never be entirely dependent on a single firm. The former, though, he found hard to understand, and the people at Wolfram & Hart seemed unwilling to give him a straight answer, beyond stressing that he'd NEVER again be welcome as a client of their firm.
Finally hanging up in frustration, he tried to think things through. He'd used W&H as his main lawyers for almost fifty years now, and had never had reason to complain before. In fact, their reluctance to ask questions he'd rather not answer, and their sometimes creative ways of solving problems, had been most useful to him. Then, the good-will gesture that he'd not appreciated, and now they'd terminated their relationship. He could only assume that somehow he'd not reacted as they'd expected him to, and rather than risk trouble, they were pushing him away. So, what should he do about it?
Sinking back into the chair, he closed weary eyes as he tried to focus, and decided to get the rest he needed before he made a decision. Stifling a yawn he got out of the chair and headed for the bedroom, only to decide to indulge himself a bit. After all, there were no-one around, and the security-systems of the mansion would ensure he stayed undisturbed. Shedding his clothes as he walked into the bathroom, he entered the hot tub with a sigh of pleasure. Closing his eyes, he slowly slid to the bottom of the tub as sleep claimed him.
****
Finally having cleaned up the remaining damage to the Hyperion, the gang had begun making use of the information their not entirely willing, but very well paid, informer had given them. Mostly, the use had consisted of Fred hacking her way into a series of computers, and she was now ready to report her findings.
"I started by hacking into the computers of the hotel Samuel used, and got the name of the person registered at the room in which he waited for the person he met at the elevator, Duncan McCloud, whom I've found no trace of anywhere, so either he used a false name or Jake didn't hear it right. I've tried a few variations of the last name, but got too many possibilities for it to do any good. Besides, I'm leaning towards it being a false name, seeing as Samuel used at least two false identities himself at the hotel."
"Two false identities? Wouldn't one be enough?"
"Not for what he had planned, no. See, what he did was making sure there were no-one following Duncan, and to do that he played a little shell-game. First he hired a room using one identity, and waited there for Duncan to arrive. He then sent Jake to bring him there from the bar, only to intercept them at the elevator. Jake's job was then to wait in the room until the elevator appeared again, and then make sure he was seen leaving it, while the real meeting took place in the room Samuel had hired using another identity."
"So whoever followed Duncan would see Jake come out, and assume the meeting were taking place there. Got it. But how does that help us?"
"Well, when I checked into the background of Chris Jordan, the man who'd hired the first room, I quickly noticed that he's not real. There were too many databases I couldn't find him in. But he did pay using a credit card, and that gave me a peek at how much he's got available. Despite being a non- existing person, he's worth at least ten thousand dollars."
"A nice amount, but not staggering. Enough to make the identity self- sufficient for a short time, but not enough to live on. Sounds like a sacrificial identity to me, possibly intended for short time use only."
"That's what I thought as well, Angel. He expected someone to follow Duncan, and he was willing to surrender the identity to draw them away. I don't think he'll ever use it again."
"You said he used two id's at the hotel. Have you had any luck at finding the other?"
"Actually, I think so, yes. Jake said he introduced himself as Michael when he met Duncan, and there were only one Michael, a Michael Madsen, registered at the hotel at that time. And he checked out just after the time Jake said the meeting happened."
"But this is also a false id, right? So how does that help us?"
"Because this is a very solid id, Angel. I couldn't find anything wrong with it. It exists everywhere it should, it even has an IRS record with taxes paid on time every year. But check this out, two weeks ago it was worth ten thousand dollars. Two days after he ran into Angel, he was worth a million. Money just kept flowing into his account from all over the place."
"Any chance of finding out where it came from?"
"None. I tried, but the trail went through so many blinds and unnamed accounts, I couldn't get anywhere."
"But he got rich two days after meeting me. Lilah hinted that he would be hostile to me. Could it be that he transferred the money to be used against me in some way?"
"It is possible. On the other hand, if the credit records are to be believed, Michael Madsen left for London the day after he got the money, so it could be he just needed some extra cash."
"London? What did he do there?"
"Nothing. He spent no money at all, so I guess he must have used yet another identity while he was there, but there's simply no way for me to find out more about it."
"Ok. When did he get back, then?"
"He used the Michael Madsen identity on the return flight, he got back to O'Hare in Chicago two days ago, then probably used another identity again, because the next time Michael Madsen used money was to rent the hotel room and a car here in L.A."
"He rented a car? Has he returned it yet?"
"Maybe, but then it would have to have been within the last half hour, and he's paid for a week."
"Great! Then we just need to find the car, and we find Samuel."
"But how do we do that? He could be anywhere in the city, or even out of it by now."
"Oh, I think I know someone who can help us."
Angel smiled broadly at his friends as he walked over to the phone and, after checking the printouts from Fred's search, placed a call.
"Hello, this is Michael Madsen. I'm calling about the car I hired from you. It's been stolen...."
****
Author's note: New chapter here, hope you enjoy. Sorry about the delay, but in my defence I can say that it's been in the hands of my beta for a month now, awaiting his response. Reviews are, as always, deeply appreciated.
