Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with "Without a Trace". I make no money from this!
A/N: Firstly, thank you to those who are still reviewing (and saying nice things like, "no, that wasn't just filler"!) I hope the case file is still holding people's interest. It is all headed somewhere, I promise. My once neat piece of paper with all my 'timeline' notes for the story is now full of scribbles and arrows, so this should, in theory, all come together nice and tidily. But, if anyone who's still reading (I know there are a few of you out there on Maple Street – thank you again!) does start to notice any gaping chasm-style holes appearing in the plot, don't be shy to come forward! ;)
Chapter Seven
Headquarters of Greenways Environmental Agency, Brooklyn
1.54pm (42 hours missing)
"Can you believe Charles Branton?"
Although Jack could feel his frustration mounting over the morning's near fruitless investigation, as he stood on the sidewalk outside Greenways' battered frontage, he found himself, once again, smothering a grin. His analytical mind was silently explaining all the reasons why he shouldn't be feeling this unusual emotion, but for the first time in over a year, he was refusing to listen. He sneaked a glance at the source of his amusement. Her blonde hair was tucked into her coat, protecting her neck from the wind that was now whistling around them. Her arms were folded tightly against her chest, he suspected only partly to keep the warmth in, as she huddled in the slight shelter afforded by the building's steps.
"I mean, it's like he's living in the dark ages. What was with the…"
Her partner couldn't hold back his smile any longer. Tilting his head he looked up at her.
"Sorry, I didn't realise we were still having this conversation!"
That one earned him a mock glare. "It's not been that long. And you heard all that paternalistic, patriarchal bull shit he was spouting. The guy just got to me, okay?"
Jack smirked. "You think?" He looked at his watch. "And I'm not sure I ever want to find out what you class as a long conversation, 'cause you've been on this for nearly two and a half hours."
Sam glanced down at her wrist and winced. "Sorry." She offered an apologetic smile. "But I still think there was something off at that firm. I just don't buy it. Unless there's something on those tapes, we actually have less information than we started with. Why would the security guard tell Danny that Adam left at six forty-five, when he wasn't even there. And how could they not even think to mention that Adam failed to turn up for a meeting he'd arranged. I mean, where the hell was he?"
"I think that might be why they call this missing persons." That earned him another glare, but he continued unperturbed. "All right, you've already accused me of being rational today, so let's look at this logically." Samantha sighed her acquiescence. "We might not have a clear time of disappearance, but we still have a place. From what Danny said, the guard was probably just trying to cover his own ass with his bosses. I know Branton isn't your favourite person, and he might have held back a couple of pertinent details, but I didn't get the impression he was outright lying. I don't think he has any idea why Adam wasn't at that meeting. We've spent the last two hours talking to everyone at the firm who had anything to do with the lawsuit, and unless there's some professional rivalry that we're missing, I just don't see any of them as having done anything to Adam, if that's even what this is about." He paused for breath. "The only people who it seems Adam wronged in this lawsuit are right in here." He indicated the shabby two-storey building in front of them. "So, shall we…?"
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Pushing open the splintered wooden door of Greenways' base of operations, the sight that met them couldn't have been any further removed from their morning's location if it had tried. The exterior door led them into a narrow corridor lit by a dim bulb hanging miserably from a frayed cluster of wires in the ceiling. The walls were, for the most part, a sludgy green in colour. But the flaking paint chips gave them a textured aesthetic. Posters and banners advertising a variety of projects and worthy causes were tacked haphazardly along the passageway, undoubtedly covering a more serious problem than bad décor. Under their feet, a tattered brown carpet revealed the linoleum which had previously been in its place. This combined with the damp patches on the ceiling to produce a musty odour which permeated the entrance. For some reason, Jack felt himself being reminded of his college days.
Greenways' administrative centre was in fact, much as it appeared from the outside, a rundown town-house which had been semi-converted for non-domestic use. A rickety flight of stairs on their left led to the upper floor. Whilst directly ahead of them lay what looked to be a make-shift kitchenette, as dilapidated as the rest of the property.
Samantha moved in front of Jack to get a better look, absently guarding her coat from coming into contact with the decaying wall. Not wanting to think about what other horrors the bad lighting may be concealing, she took a closer look at the messages being screamed from the artwork. Mostly hand-drawn, the posters had a radical-student quality to them. A couple made satirical reference to the current political situation. But on the whole, the images detailed various effects of environmental damage in ways which were both graphic and disturbing. Seeing what had caught Sam's attention, Jack turned so the two were shoulder to shoulder. Taking in the sight before him, he kept his voice low into her ear.
"It's kind of hard to imagine the artist behind these playing nice with rich guys in suits who are out to screw them over. You wouldn't see pictures like these on 'Green Peace' fliers."
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that some people here can get pretty angry."
The conversation was halted as they both turned sharply, searching for the source of the sharp noise that had interrupted them. Simultaneously exhaling covert sighs of relief, they looked up to see a man, of about sixty, making his way down the creaking wooden stairs toward them.
As if completely at ease with the sight of two FBI agents in his hallway, the man smiled warmly and gave a small wave. "Agents Malone and Spade, I assume. Glad you found us okay. I'm Steve Mitchell, director and founder of Greenways." Off Jack's rather blank stare, humour filled the older man's eyes. "We spoke on the phone. Welcome to our humble abode."
Jack extended his hand as the director reached ground level. As he took in the man's plump form in his knitted sweater and neatly creased khaki pants, a question formed in his expression. "You're Steve Mitchell?"
Steve laughed as his smile grew wider. "Not what you were expecting, huh? Don't worry, I get that a lot!"
Jack tried to cover, but it was a little late. "Sorry, it's just that…"
"You were expecting a pony-tail, long beard and an earring?" He watched as the agent shrugged apologetically. He chuckled. "That's what my grand-kids keep telling me, but I figure we all have to grow up sometime. It's hard to get people to take you seriously when you're a walking cliché. Besides, there's enough young people around this place. I'm never short a young revolutionary, should I need one."
Whilst Jack and Samantha contemplated the significance of that last statement, Steve turned and made his way back up the staircase. He gestured casually to the agents, but his tone suggested something more.
"Maybe we should talk in my office."
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Steve Mitchell's office was a converted box room opposite the stairwell. Although cramped and tired, it was clean and neat. An old computer took up most of his thrift-store desk, and the tops of the three locked filing cabinets were piled high with eye-catching fliers and publications. Through the window behind him, Sam could see a couple of skinny kids kicking an old tyre in the street below.
Both agents were a little surprised when Steve pre-empted their questions.
"Well, I'm guessing you're here because you've spent the morning at Redding, Phillips and Hurst, and you want to know if we're the reason why you're searching for Adam Walker."
Sam was the first to react. "Mr. Mitchell…"
"Steve, please." He smiled kindly. "Look, I know you must hear a lot of B.S. in your line of work, and I'm not expecting you to believe what I'm about to say. But, I'm telling you, the people at Greenways, they're the last people who would want to see anything bad happen to Adam."
Jack stopped him, his tone already hinting at his scepticism. "All right, you'll have to forgive my apparent ignorance on this subject, but didn't Adam Walker just screw you and your organization out of a rather large amount of money?" The older man was still smiling. "I don't know what you're finding so funny, Mr. Mitchell. Adam Walker has been missing for nearly two days, since around the time of a meeting he was meant to be having with you, coincidentally. And he has a worried wife, and a young child, who I'd imagine would very much like him home in one piece as soon as possible. Now I don't find that all that amusing."
The director sobered instantly. "I'm sorry that Adam's missing. I truly am. But you have to believe me when I say I'm as confounded about this as anyone. I like Adam. We all do. In fact, I was a little surprised when he didn't show up for the meeting on Monday night, but then I thought, all things considered, maybe he was just playing it safe by keeping away. Not wanting to arouse any suspicion amongst his colleagues."
This time it was Samantha who interrupted. "Excuse me, but, um, what exactly are you talking about?"
Steve regarded them with an air of resignation. "All right. I know what the lawyers at Adam's firm must have told you, and I know what assumptions you must be making about us." He gestured helplessly. "A group of radicals who refuse to live in the real world, and who go around starting fights, like our self-righteousness is going to save the planet." He sighed. "I know we're just this tiny, unimportant organization. I mean, look at this place. We've barely changed since I set the whole thing up almost forty years ago. Most of my members are college students, looking for a sense of purpose. Or worse, mixed-up, angry kids who sign up looking for the wrong target to direct their anger at. We go around trying to educate people about the damage we're doing, but none of them really seem to care once they've taken our pamphlet and moved on. We rarely accomplish anything even news-worthy."
Jack met his gaze. "I'm not trying to be insensitive here, Mr. Mitchell. But what does any of this have to do with Adam Walker?"
The older man's eyes took on a new energy. "Adam wanted to help us change all that." Seeing their expectant glances, he continued. "Did you know Adam used to work for an environmental agency before he moved to New York?"
Sam nodded. "His secretary mentioned something about that."
"Well, at first I thought it was just his guilty conscience talking, you know? This corporate lawyer calls me up, telling me one of the biggest firms in the city wants to work on our behalf. But then he actually came out here to meet with me, and I could just tell. He really wanted to do this. I didn't know this when we first met, but he'd been pushing this with his bosses for almost a year before they finally agreed. They were reluctant enough to do anything for free, and they certainly didn't realise that Adam already had us in mind as a potential client."
"How did Adam come to seek Greenways out?" enquired Jack. "Surely there are other agencies like yours out there."
Steve smiled. "There are plenty. Luckily for us, an old college friend of Adam's used to work with us and suggested that we needed some help funding new projects. Adam got hold of some of our literature and obviously liked what he read. Next thing I know, he's sitting right where you are now."
"And how long ago did all this happen?" Sam looked up from the notes she'd been taking.
"Around six months ago." His brow creased in concentration. "We filed the plans for the conservation land right away. I'm assuming you already know all about that minor fiasco?" The agents nodded in confirmation. "Adam was devastated, blamed himself. We all told him it wasn't his fault, but he was determined to set things right. So when he heard that McKeevers were planning on suing the firm, he suggested that we get in on the action."
Jack stopped him once again. "Let me get this straight. Adam Walker encouraged you to sue his own firm?"
Steve shrugged almost guiltily. "I know, it's not exactly ethical, especially considering his role in the firm. But I think he was just sick of playing by the rules. Of course, it was a hard sell, at first, to some of our members. They were a touch… apprehensive about 'getting into bed with corporate America', was I think the phrase they used. But Adam turned them around. They really respect him."
"If Adam was so keen for you to get involved in the lawsuit in the first place, then why was he then pushing to settle all of a sudden? What was in it for you?" Sam's mind was quickly pulling the new information together.
The director sighed. "That, I'm afraid, was a no win situation." He thought about how best to elaborate. "You see, there was no way the firm was ever going to settle. Adam knew the best way to get rid of McKeever, and he couldn't do anything to help us without showing disloyalty to his employers, and probably losing his job and his chance to practise law again whilst he was at it. None of us wanted to see that happen."
"So, what did he offer you?" Jack was becoming impatient.
"Free counsel, for as long as he's with Redding, Phillips and Hurst." Steve stated simply. "He said he'd told the Partners that if they refused, we'd already threatened to go to the press, shouting about how wealthy lawyers and business men were bullying organizations who are just trying to do some good in the community. A fairly inflammatory sob-story."
"And they agreed?"
The older man met Jack's eyes. "They had no reason not to. They'd agreed to it before, and after Adam's manoeuvre with McKeever last week, he was their golden-boy. They had no reason to distrust him."
Jack still had his doubts. "Well, if everything was so fine, how did a receptionist end up with a broken nose on Monday night?"
Steve laughed ruefully. "Just because the more… passionate members here trusted Adam, doesn't mean they weren't still upset, shall we say, with McKeevers. I tried to convince them not to come to the meeting, but they said they wanted to show everyone that they weren't just rolling over for the chemical industry suits. Some comments were made, I tried to stop them, but everything just got out of hand. Believe me, I gave them hell for it when we finally got back here. That's exactly the kind of behaviour that I've always tried to avoid. But they're young, enthusiastic, naïve…"
"So, with Adam gone," Samantha concluded, "Greenways has lost one if its most valuable supporters."
The director nodded sadly. "Yes, and a valued friend."
The quiet was broken by a chirping from Jack's suit pocket. Indicating his cell phone, he pushed his seat back and abruptly left the room. Samantha smiled apologetically at a now sober Steve Mitchell.
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2.36pm
Leaning back in his chair, Danny Taylor dialled a familiar number. As his boss picked up he smiled.
"Hey, how's it going…" He laughed at the response. "Well, I've watched those security tapes and might have something that'll help… Yeah… Also, we've just run some of Adam Walker's records, and there are a couple of things that you might want to take a look at…"
TBC
