Scene XVIII - Sarah's Hotel Room
Sarah was pacing across her hotel room, but the austere decor didn't even register. "Casey, Chuck isn't picking up."
"OK, let's think this through. The most likely suspects for Chuck to hang out with are Ellie and Morgan. I know Morgan had to work until 6:30 tonight; do you know what is going on with Ellie?"
Sarah thought back to Christmas; they had talked about their schedules for the week. "Yes, Ellie and Devon both pull a long shift today. Ellie gets off at 7:00, Devon at 11:00."
"That rules out Chuck meeting any of them; he wouldn't hang out somewhere waiting for an hour and a half. Any other friends Chuck might meet up with?"
"None that come to mind. When the subject of meeting up with people came up yesterday, Chuck only mentioned that he was catching up with a high school friend on the 28th. That's our meeting with Liniman."
Casey didn't reply immediately. "This isn't looking good. I'm going to head back to the Buy More to check the security camera logs from the home theatre room. Maybe I can get a clue there."
"That's a big of a long shot, isn't it?"
"You got a better idea?"
"Not really. I guess I'd better start thinking up excuses to call Morgan and Ellie, in case they know something."
"Another long shot."
"Yeah, well, that seems like all we have right now."
"Agreed. I'll have my phone."
Sarah sensed Casey was about to hang up again. "Casey, wait!"
"Yeah?"
"Can you think of anything unusual that happened at work today?"
"Unusual?"
Sarah grew suspicious instantly. She shouldn't have to pull this type of thing out of an agent, and especially not Casey. "C'mon, Casey. You know the type of thing I'm talking about."
There was a long pause at the other end of the line. "Well, I may have told him that I didn't consider him to be an agent. And I may have called him an 'inconvenience'."
Sarah stood in shocked silence for a moment. Casey actually sounded contrite; in a normal situation, she would have burst out laughing. This was not a normal situation. In a voice that grew angrier as she spoke, she demanded, "Why am I just now hearing about this now? And what were you thinking?"
"Focus, CIA. We can have that conversation later."
"Oh, you can count on that."
In an even, controlled tone, Casey asked, "Walker, does that help you with where Chuck might be?"
Sarah shook off her anger. Casey was right: as much as she wanted to lay into him, there were bigger fish to fry. However, that didn't mean she felt the need to strip her frustration from her voice. "I don't know. How did he take your comments?"
Another pause; Sarah read between the lines. "I see. Well, let's think about the places he might go if he's feeling down. And remember that he doesn't have his car or his coat: that limits the search radius."
They both quietly considered the possibilities. Sarah threw out the first idea: "The beach is out: he would need his car and his coat for that."
"He also has a fondness for that arcade down on the pier, but that's out for the same reason."
"You already checked the Buy More plaza. That rules out a handful of places. And his other hangouts are too far away."
There was an empty silence; both were out of ideas. Casey spoke first. "Sorry, Walker, I got nothing else. I'll keep thinking about it as I head to the Buy More. I'll scan the security camera logs and take one more look around the plaza."
"No. Casey, you stay there and monitor the apartment. I'll dig through the security tapes at the Buy More; I don't have anything else I can be doing."
Casey paused, as if trying to find a flaw in the logic; he clearly wanted to clean up his own mess. Reluctantly, he conceded, "I guess that makes sense."
"One other thing. If you find Chuck, you stay away and give me a call. I'm guessing he won't be happy to see you right about now."
"You're probably right." Casey hung up.
Sarah pocketed her phone and grabbed her keys and her coat. She was out the door in ten seconds.
On her way to the Buy More, Sarah knew she could be coming up with excuses for calling Morgan and Ellie, but all she could do was picture scenes from Christmas. Even though it was only yesterday, it seemed such a long, long way away.
Scene XIX - Buy More
Sarah strode through the deserted Buy More. She wasn't being as careful as she probably should be; if one of the employees lingered, she would have a tough time talking her way out of it. It couldn't be helped; Casey's foot was nailed down at the apartment.
She made a beeline for the media room, locking the doors and pulling the curtains. She dialed Chuck one more time; again, she got his voice mail. Trying to stay calm, she left another terse message. "Chuck, it's Sarah. Call me the instant you get this." She hung up quickly and jammed the phone into her pocket.
It took a minute to locate the remote between two couch cushions and punch in the codes to gain access to the system. A direct feed had been established to each of the Buy More security cameras; a two-week supply of each of the feeds was stored in two-hour blocks on a hard drive installed into the wall. She loaded up the software that synchronized playback of all nine feeds in a 3x3 grid.
The main camera seemed to be her best option; it was mounted in the front corner and covered most of the store. Selecting the video segment that ended at 5 pm, she rewound the recording until she managed to spot Chuck, mostly obscured by Casey's large frame. She paused the video and returned to the preview mode, looking for a better angle. The camera that pointed into the big screen TV section contained a profile view of the pair; she zoomed in. Both of their body languages were confrontational, with Casey being the more aggressive. She pressed play.
Chuck finished saying his piece, then Casey closed the last of the distance between them and poked Chuck in the chest. His face looked shocked and hurt; that must have been where Casey called Chuck an inconvenience.
Sarah recognized the look on Chuck's face; it was the same look he gave her in the hotel room before they headed out for the Kirk casino mission. That particular night, Sarah was caught up feeling sorry for herself. Even then, she couldn't stop from hurting Chuck. Chuck had tried to lighten the mood, and she described the casino mission as "work".
It was bad enough that she slapped away the olive branch he tried to hand her. The worst part was that Sarah had, at one point, specifically told Chuck that she never considered their time together work. Chuck's face had clearly showed that he had made the connection.
Sarah shook off the memory. She couldn't afford to be distracted by past transgressions now, although she certainly was going to have a little talk with Agent Casey when the dust settled.
Skimming the video and moving from feed to feed, she managed to follow Chuck's entrance into the office. Soon after, Big Mike entered the office. A few minutes passed, and Chuck exited, looking worse than he had before. She wondered what had happened.
Switching security cameras twice, she followed Chuck to the front of the store. Occasionally, Chuck would look in different directions in the store or brush off a customer; his face subtly growing more agonized as he headed to the front of the store. He said something to Morgan and immediately headed for the front of the store, shoulders slumped. Morgan turned and stared after Chuck.
She paused the playback and analyzed Morgan's face. His expression was shocked; she wondered what Chuck had said. Slowly scanning forward, she watched Morgan's expression gradually shift into one of worry. Chuck walked out the front of the store without turning around. The time on the monitor said 4:19.
A sense of relief washed over Sarah. Everything she saw indicated Chuck was having a lousy day, and given Chuck wasn't the suicidal type, odds were good that he just needed to clear his head. That would certainly explain forgetting his coat, and if the keys were in one of its pockets, why he might have chosen to walk home.
There was one more camera outside the front of the store. She switched to it. Chuck stood staring at the Weinerlicious for a brief moment. Unfortunately, she had no angle on his face. Believing Chuck was safe, she allowed herself to linger; she wondered what he was thinking. Chuck would know that she had left for the DCI Enterprises campus to retrieve the surveillance. Did he wish he could talk with her? Or did he consider her part of the problem? It was certainly possible that he suspected she felt the same way as Casey about his contributions, and nothing could be further from the truth. She wished she could talk to him.
By the time Chuck turned to his left, his face was flat. No clues there. She pondered a little more as he walked. Then her heart stopped.
Shawn Liniman stood on the left side of the screen, his arms crossed and a cruel look on his face. He seemed to be waiting for Chuck.
Chuck clearly didn't see Shawn. Sarah stifled an instinctive cry to warn him, but Chuck didn't notice Shawn until he was right on top of him. Chuck's face looked tired and annoyed when he recognized Shawn. He said something, and walked right past him, out of view of the camera. Shawn turned and jogged after him, reaching out with one hand.
An icy chill traveled Sarah's spine as she started putting some things together. Minh supposedly dealt in confidential information; how deep were his connections? Could he have somehow found out about Chuck and sent Liniman to grab him? The Doctor had planned to sell Chuck on the black market. Certainly Minh would have similar connections.
The Doctor had nearly gotten away with Chuck. If Liniman had grabbed Chuck, he could already be on his way out of the country.
And if he was, she'd never see him again.
Sarah became frantic. He had to be fine. She called Chuck again. Still no answer.
She pressed the '3' on her speed dial to call Casey. She had to report what she had found.
Scene XX - A Dark Room
Chuck lay horizontally, unable to move. He could almost feel the chemicals running through his veins. He didn't care.
He couldn't see a thing. He didn't care.
A terrible sound assaulted his ears. He didn't care.
Chuck's mind blearily flashed from memory to memory, none of it from the Intersect. Jeff winking. Lester rubbing his fingers together. His watch running fast. Customers laying into him. Big Mike laying into him. Anna twirling her hair around a finger. Casey poking his finger into Chuck's chest. Liniman, with that smug, cruel grin on his face.
Chuck's mind floated from person to person; he took turns being angry at each of them, over and over again. He didn't deserve this.
A voice, speaking over the noise in a singsong voice, resonated in his ears.
This is the first day of my last days.
A guitar solo belted into his ears. He didn't flinch.
I built it up, now I take it apart, climbed up real high, now fall down real far.
Trent Reznor's guitar burned his ears again. Chuck didn't move.
No need for me to stay; the last thing left, I just threw it away.
Again the guitar.
I put my faith in God and my trust in you; now there's nothing more screwed up I could do.
Chuck didn't pretend to know about God, but at the reference to trust, he couldn't help but think of Sarah. And thinking of Sarah wasn't really a recipe for cheering up.
In fairness, thinking of Sarah was a small step in the right direction. Chuck wanted to be angry with Sarah, but at least she had been straight with him. She hadn't gone out of her way to be cruel to him for no reason. Well, except for the kiss, but Chuck allowed that thinking you only have seconds to live could cloud anyone's head.
He tried to clear his own clouded head. He knew he wasn't thinking rationally. Then again, whenever Chuck broke out Nine Inch Nails, he was beyond rational thinking.
Especially when he played the album four times in a row.
Wish there was something real, wish there was something true,
Chuck conjured up the strength to move, sat up in his bed, and turned on the lamp on his nightstand. Next to his lamp stood a fifth of rum and a two-liter bottle of Coke, along with a tall, empty glass. Both the bottles were missing a significant portion. They had both been opened on Christmas, so Chuck really didn't know how much he had drank. Not that he cared. He reached for the rum.
Wish there was something real in this world full of you.
His hand stopped inches away from the rum bottle, and instead reached over and took the picture of Sarah and him from his nightstand. Mostly this song was just about anger to Chuck, but a couple of the lines rang pretty true at the moment. He stared at her for a moment, then decided it just hurt too much. He had known it would, he reminded himself.
To be fair, he hadn't counted on the little things … like her scent lingering on her pillow.
Chuck decided his ears had been tortured enough. He pulled off the canister headphones just as the next verse started. As steadily as he could, He walked across the room, docking his iPod into his stereo. Nine Inch Nails was back in full voice.
No new tale to tell; 26 years on my way to hell.
Yeah, a couple of the lines definitely rang true right about now. Across the room, his phone lit up with Sarah's picture again, its ring obscured by angry guitar chords. Chuck didn't notice.
Scene XXI - Casa Bartowski, Living Room
Morgan lounged on the sofa, feet over one arm as he watched TV. Ellie entered through the front door, carrying groceries. She directed a look of surprise at Morgan.
"Hey, Morgan. Where's Chuck?"
Morgan turned off the TV. "Chuck's ... a little down right now."
As if to accentuate Morgan's statement, the sound of loud music suddenly comes from Chuck's room. The two froze, trying to determine what album Chuck is playing.
Ellie's face fell. "Uh oh. He broke out the Nine Inch Nails. He hasn't done that in a long time."
Morgan nodded sagely. "His anniversary with Jill, a few months back. At least the headphones are off."
"Do you know what's eating him?" she asked with a concerned expression.
"I think he just had a rough day. I was going to give him a little more time to cool off."
Ellie gave Morgan a sad but thankful little smile, and headed into the kitchen to put away groceries. Morgan turned off the TV and switched to a gaming magazine.
Time passed. Ellie had made some pasta, and the two sat eating in the living room. The album finished; nothing immediately followed. Ellie's expression grew more worried. "Do you think one of us should go in there?"
Morgan held up a hand. "Not yet. Let's see what he puts on next."
Suddenly, a soft, a capella female voice filled the apartment.
We are miners; hard rock miners. To the shaft-house we must go.
Morgan said, "Bad. Bad. Very bad."
Ellie looked at him questioningly. Morgan answered, a bit too dramatically, "He's put on the Cowboy Junkies."
Her face showed that meant nothing to her. "And that's bad?"
Morgan stared at Ellie for a second before answering. "The opening song is about workers who trudge into mine shafts every day despite knowing they are contracting lung disease. The happiest song on the album might be the cover of Hank Williams' 'I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry'."
"That's not good."
"No, it's not." Morgan straightened his shoulders. "I'm going in."
Morgan strode back to Chuck's room and entered without knocking. Chuck sat on the edge of his bed, face in his hands. Morgan closed the door behind him, and sat down next to Chuck, unconsciously hunching over to mirror Chuck's posture. Chuck didn't acknowledge him.
Morgan looked a little uncertain where to begin. "So, Chuck … 'The Trinity Session'. Did you get kicked out of Stanford again, or did a rogue band of bikers gun down everyone you care about? Because those are about the only times depressing enough to actually break out this album."
Chuck didn't move. "This album is highly underrated," he said into his hands.
"Please, after Nine Inch Nails?"
Chuck rubbed his face, dropping his hands to his sides as he stared at the wall. "Just a bad day."
"Yeah, Ellie and I picked up on that. You want to talk about it?"
"Not really. Today was one of those existential, Finagle's Law experiences which makes you want to switch lives with somebody."
"Finagle's Law?"
"It's like Murphy's Law, but worse. 'Anything that can go wrong, will, and at the worst possible moment.'"
"Well, Murphy was an optimist. Just tell me you and Sarah didn't break up again."
"No, nothing like that."
Morgan slapped Chuck on the shoulder. "Dude, then what are you doing moping about in your room? That's half the point of having a girlfriend. Go get yourself some comforting."
Much as he wanted to, Chuck couldn't very well tell Morgan that Sarah was not-so-much his girlfriend as an agent off reviewing surveillance footage from a stakeout of their old high school classmate. He deflected, "She's got other plans tonight." He didn't turn to face Morgan until after he finished his statement. While not technically a lie, Chuck still felt bad hiding things from his best friend.
"That sucks. 'Cause when I was a little depressed last weekend, Anna…" Morgan turned mid-statement to face Chuck, and was leaning towards him with one leg folded under him.
Chuck, sensing disaster, headed him off. "Stop right there."
"No, man, you gotta hear…"
Chuck put a hand on Morgan's shoulder and looked him square in the eye. In a low voice that suggested his lunch was already threatening to visit his throat, he said, "Stop. I'm begging you. I already feel queasy enough from the rum and Cokes."
Morgan looked over at the bottles on the nightstand. "How many did you have?"
"Dunno. Three?"
"Lightweight. Tell you what: I'll blow off Anna tonight. You go give your sister a hug and grab a plate of the killer pasta she made. I'll catch up, and then we'll suit up and play World of Warcraft, Call of Duty, whatever you want. Guys' Night In. What do you say?"
Even if the notion didn't appeal to Chuck, he would have found it hard to turn down Morgan. His expression made him hard to turn down to begin with, but blowing off Anna was the clincher: that was no small thing to him. In a slow cadence, he responded gratefully, "Actually, that sounds really good."
Morgan's face lit up. "That's what I'm talking about. Give me ten minutes." He trotted out of the room, singing a war song from Lord of the Rings. Chuck smiled despite himself.
He pulled himself together, stood up and walked into the living room just in time to hear the front door close behind Morgan. Ellie turned away from watching Morgan's exit; she looked relieved. As she got up from the couch, she asked, "You OK?"
Chuck felt guilty about making her worry. "Yeah, sis', I'm all right." He walked over and gave her a hug, which she gladly returned. "Just a bad day. I'll shake it off."
"I'll get you a bowl of pasta, and we'll talk for a few minutes. I assume you and Morgan are going into battle?" Chuck looked at her curiously. Ellie continued, "I have no idea what Morgan was singing, but in the past it's usually been followed by several hours of serious gaming."
Chuck grinned foolishly at her. "Yep, that's the plan."
"Whatever works." She gave him a loving smile and walked back into the kitchen to fix him a plate.
His gaze followed her into the kitchen, where she bustled about, whistling a happy tune. Through the window, Morgan was heatedly explaining to Anna why he couldn't meet up with her tonight; apparently she wasn't entirely pleased, but Morgan wasn't backing down an inch. Chuck smiled.
Today had been a terrible day. But the people he loved were still safe and in his life. Things could be much, much worse.
Scene XXII - Buy More Media Room
Sarah's breath caught in her throat as the phone rang. She couldn't get in touch with Casey fast enough. Finally, he picked up.
"Casey here."
Sarah immediately started stammering, her words tumbling over each other. "Casey, I just finished with the logs. Chuck ran into Liniman outside the Buy More after he left. I couldn't see what…"
"Walker, stop."
"Casey, Chuck might be…"
"Chuck is safe. He's home."
"What?"
"Chuck is home. He's been listening to music and drinking rum and Cokes. I'm listening in on him and Morgan right now."
Sarah's heart started beating at a more normal pace again. "That's … that's good. But why didn't you know he was there? And why didn't he answer my calls?"
"My guess? Lights off, headphones, shutting out the world. Hell, he scared the crap out of me when he switched to his stereo. I had the volume cranked on the surveillance equipment."
Sarah took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She closed her eyes with relief. Chuck was OK. He was OK. The Intersect was safe. Chuck was OK.
Casey continued, "Morgan just came in to pull him out of the dumps. They didn't say anything interesting ... not that that's a big surprise."
Sarah ignored Casey; she only wanted to wrap her arms around Chuck, although she wasn't sure whether she wanted to strangle him or hug him. She tried to manufacture a reason to see him. "Maybe I should head over there. He ran into Liniman …"
"You can't go over there."
"What!" Her tone basically asked, "How exactly are you going to stop me?"
"Chuck told Morgan that you were busy tonight. You show up unexpectedly, and you'll have things to explain."
Sarah's mind was still foggy, so it took her a moment to process what he said. After a second, she responded, "I can talk my way around that."
"Look, Chuck's been drinking, and even if you can manage the cover, he might slip up. He and Morgan are just going to play video games the rest of the night. There's no point in risking your cover for something that doesn't matter."
"But Chuck saw Liniman…"
"Chuck didn't call in. No matter how depressed he was, he would have called anything in."
Sarah knew he was right, but she desperately wanted there to be some reason for her to see Chuck. She needed a reason. The problem is there wasn't a good one, and Casey would know immediately if she showed. There was a long pause while she tried to figure out a way around it.
"Is there a problem, Walker?"
She couldn't come up with anything; she took it out on Casey. "Yes. There's definitely a problem with verbally attacking your assignment and losing track of him for three hours. But we can talk about that tomorrow." Sarah angrily hung up.
Sarah dropped onto the couch, trying to collect herself. Her anger drained away, replaced with a sense of relief. She had spent a fair bit of the last hour terrified that Chuck was gone, which tore her up both on a personal and professional level. It wasn't something she was going to recover from immediately.
What Sarah wouldn't have given for Chuck to be there, reclining on the couch, available to wrap his arm around her as she rested her head on his shoulder, if only for a few minutes.
Scene XXIII - Restaurant
Jonathon Turley and Andon Minh sat in a quiet back corner of an Asian restaurant. A red tablecloth covered the table, with matching red curtains hanging behind the curved bench from a circular rod mounted on the ceiling. The booth could seat eight, but the pair had the table to themselves, and the surrounding tables were unoccupied. Two full place settings were pushed off to the sides, replaced by small stacks of log books.
Minh said, "So, you've finished the books for the year, then?"
"Almost. I have a few more entries to add. Just the last couple dozen line items you gave me; they should be on my desk now."
Minh looked at Turley intently. "And there won't be any question about the entries?"
Jonathon shook his head. "Not if the source account numbers you gave me lead to respectable institutions overseas. I'm trusting you a great deal, here, Andy."
"And I've earned that trust, I think. I've made you a very rich man."
"That you have, my friend."
Minh gave an oily smile. "Well, I guess we're done, then. Time to celebrate a little, I think." He signaled to the waiter, a Vietnamese man wearing crisp black button-down and black pants under a white apron. Upon noticing the request, the waiter stopped busing a table and took a couple of steps towards them. Minh gave him an order in Vietnamese.
As the waiter left, Turley continued, "Absolutely. Especially since with this last quarter's results, I should gain access to even more to 'share' with you."
Minh looked at Turley curiously. "Your company really has no idea why your division keeps posting such fabulous results?"
Turley looked pleased with the implicit praise in the inquiry. Before he could respond, the waiter delivered a tray with a bottle and two small glasses. Minh, as an aside, confirmed, "You like sake, yes?"
"Yes, thank you." The waiter filled both cups as Turley continued. "And no, my company has no idea. They're just convinced at this point that I can sell ice to Eskimos. My divisions have survived two audits, and the board is too happy to ask many questions."
"So what's your secret?"
"Well, I handle a fair bit of the details, but I've also got an accountant totally focused on avoiding audit traps. You've met him, actually: Shawn Liniman?"
Minh pursed his lips. "Yes. Not the most likeable man. Bit of a weasel."
"Yeah, but I have to give him credit: he can hide pretty much anything. Of course, he has no idea what he is hiding, and what he doesn't know can't hurt us." Turley laughed.
"True enough. But certainly nobody else knows."
"Nope. Only Shawn and I, and Shawn doesn't really know anything. Heck, he's holding my next delivery to you and doesn't have a clue." At that tidbit, Minh's eyes betrayed some interest, but he quickly changed the subject.
"Good, good. Then here is to a successful new year." The two toasted and drank.
Turley's face puckered slightly as he drank about half his sake. "Interesting flavor; what variety of sake is this? I don't think I've ever tasted anything quite like it."
Minh had finished about half of his glass as well. "I'd be surprised if you had. If I remember correctly, you are terribly allergic to shellfish, yes?"
Turley looked puzzled, then slightly horrified. "Why do you ask?" His voice sounded scratchy.
Looking at him calmly, Ming explained, "I took the liberty of having the waiter add a shellfish extract to the sake. It is generally used as a flavoring agent in Japanese food. I am surprised to find how much I enjoy it in the sake; quite unexpected." He finished his glass.
Turley's eyes started tearing uncontrollably, and he started gasping for breath.
Unphased, Minh continued, "Unfortunately for you, we recently made a sweep of your campus and discovered that NSA agents are monitoring your offices from your parking lot. That means that they are getting a little too close to me. I'm afraid I need to cauterize the wound, as it were." He smiled apologetically.
Turley called for help, but his voice came out as a coughing whisper, unlikely to be heard by anyone. He clumsily tried to exit the booth, but the waiter entered his side of the bench, blocking his path. The waiter quickly set a Styrofoam carry-out box on Minh's side of the table and closed the curtains.
His face flushed, Turley weakly attempted to push past the man, but the other man guided Turley towards the back of the booth. Turley's strength failed him, and he fell onto the bench, slowly tumbling onto the floor under the table. His wheezing gasps gradually faded.
Minh looked down at Turley, his expression a bit sad. "I am sorry our partnership had to end. You carried out your end of things remarkably well." He looked more like a guy who had lost a hand of cards than a man who had executed a partner.
Turning his attention to the waiter, he said, "There is one other loose end to wrap up. Turley had an accomplice, one 'Shawn Liniman', who helped him hide his dealings with me. It sounds like he has no idea what he has been covering up, but I am not one to take risks." He stood up. "Give this a couple of days to blow over, and then tie up the last loose end."
He paused, a thought occurring to him. "Before you finalize things, see if you can find out about a last delivery that Shawn prepared for us." Minh ducked through the red curtains around the booth, log books under one arm, and walked out the front door.
A few minutes later, the waiter also ducked through the curtains, carrying the tray with the stoppered sake bottle and the now-empty glasses in one hand, with the carry-out box in the other. He entered the bustling kitchen, hardly attracting any notice from the busy staff, dropping the Styrofoam container into a trash can.
Casually exiting into the deserted alleyway, the waiter took a second to dump the remaining contents of the bottle through a sewer grate. As he walked to the dumpster at the end of the alley, he paused to discard the glasses, the bottle and the apron in a dumpster. The man stepped out onto the sidewalk, quietly going about his business and attracting no notice.
When the staff found Turley later, his head lay to the side of a plate filled with the house specialty: noodles with a mix of meats, including shellfish. His waiter was found passed out drunk in the back alleyway; he claimed he couldn't remember serving the man (or drinking, for that matter), but his pad clearly specified "no shellfish" on the order for Turley's table. Turley's death was ruled anaphylactic shock; there was no investigation.