Chapter 8

Brown sat himself across from Maximilian Crowne-Chambers in the interview room once again, only, this time, Brown was the one with the smug grin. Kostopoulos kept herself rigidly stoic, with her arms folded.

"Thanks for joining us again, Mr. Crowne-Chambers," he said. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"That's fine," said the dishevelled inventor, with a somewhat nervous smile.

"Maximilian Crowne-Chambers." Brown said, slowly drawing out each syllable in the name. He consulted a padd. "Or is it… William Robbins? Or Richard Lynch? Or Jacob I. Edgar?"

He locked eyes with the other man, who shifted uncomfortably.

"You've gone by a lot of different names, haven't you? I can see why you'd want to change it though," Brown continued. "Considering the one you were born with…" He consulted the padd again. "Berlinghoff Rasmussen."

At the mention of his (apparently) real name, Rasmussen's face dropped.

Brown saved him the trouble of asking how they knew. "We couldn't find any record of a 'Maximilian Crowne-Chambers,' but a facial recognition scan showed us that this isn't the first time you've tried to peddle sub-standard tech under an alias. Or tech that doesn't work at all. Sometimes you even run off with both your prototype and the money. The authorities have been looking for you for years."

"What was your plan this time?" Kostopoulos chimed in. "Sign a deal with several prospective investors, get some sort of deposit up front, then flee?"

Rasmussen remained quiet, so Brown picked up the narrative. "But you got too big for your boots, didn't you? Tried to scam a top tier company like Abramson Industries. They probably have some good security people who did their own background checks on you; found out you're just a con artist who dropped out of San Francisco State halfway through an engineering degree. Found out you're a wanted man."

"Did Reena Bird confront you about it?" Kostopoulos asked. "Threaten to expose you? Turn you in?"

"Bet that made you angry," said Brown. "So you needed to silence her."

"While you were in here waiting, a security team searched your quarters," said Kostopoulos.

"They couldn't find your site-to-site transporter anywhere," said Brown. He leaned forward. "Did you beam it into Bird's artificial heart? Cause it to explode? Just so you could pull another scam!?"

Brown was practically shouting, and tried to reign himself back in. Rasmussen hadn't said a word since being exposed, his eyes staring intently at the table.

"I'd like to speak with legal counsel," the gangly man said eventually, without looking up. "You can't continue this interview until you grant my request."

Brown sighed heavily and exchanged a look with Kostopoulos. This complicated matters, due to both the lockdown and the deadline, and they were both thinking the same thing.

He's done this dance before.

"Me? Represent a criminal?" said Angie, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Brown was sat across from Angela Davies, an employee of Starbase 1's civilian-run legal offices, in her quarters. Her fiancé, Lt. Rhys Vaughn, was sat next to her.

"We can't get anyone else to the base," Brown explained. "And civilian comm channels are too shaky to conduct something this important over subspace. I talked to your boss and she said you had some experience with criminal law."

The plump young woman scoffed. "Yeah, in university! I've mainly practiced administrative or contract law since then."

"That makes you the best qualified person on the planet," said Brown with a slight smirk. Despite the levity, he was very aware of the ticking clock.

He suspected that Rasmussen, a practiced swindler, knew full well that his request would delay proceedings - that was likely the only reason he had made it in the first place - but Brown had always been one to stick to the letter of the law, even if he could often be overzealous in its application. Hence why he had immediately rushed to the legal offices to find someone capable of fulfilling the request for representation.

Some background checks on the other interviewees had returned too: The Trill government were being cagey, and there was no information publicly available on their citizens, but they had confirmed that Aubren Zrae was a freelance engineering consultant. Wilbur Wrigley's reputation spoke for itself, his family business being well known. Typical Vulcan bureaucracy was holding up any information on T'Ves, but, for now, Rasmussen seemed their best suspect.

All the more reason to hurry things along. The first day of his deadline was almost over.

"I can't think of anyone better," Vaughn said, smiling warmly at Angie. "You can do anything you put your mind to."

"Standing up for a criminal?" Angie said, her round features screwed up in mild revulsion.

Vaughn shrugged. "You're always saying that everyone is entitled to a fair defence."

"You'll only be offering him consultation," Brown interjected. "This isn't a trial or anything. Just making sure rights are respected and protocols are followed."

"Anyway," said Vaughn, "if you can't stand to be with a rogue, how do you expect to be married to me?" He grinned. Brown knew this was a jest, as Vaughn was the most harmless person he'd ever met.

Angie returned the grin, then looked to Brown. "Alright. I'll do it."

"Excellent," said Brown, standing. "I'll take you down to the Security Centre and you can consult with Mr. Rasmussen there."

Angie was a little taken aback. "N-Now?"

Brown nodded urgently. "There's no time to lose."