Chapter 34: A Pair of Idiots
The Turks prided themselves on their pragmatism, competence, and efficiency. A normal person might find their ideas of what constituted normal, everyday professionalism horrifying, but considering their jobs—doing Shinra's dirtiest work and cleaning up the company's messes, which often included wetwork—the Turks' methods were both necessary and the best on the Planet.
Under other circumstances, none of them would consider interrogating, threatening, or even murdering an elite, wealthy trophy wife to be outside their sphere of operation.
Of course, Veld hoped that nothing too drastic would be necessary. A spoiled and useless rich-bitch like Chitose Lafferty, President of the Keepers of Honor fan club and presumed owner of the fucking porn magazine Barely Legal, Harvest Time Special! couldn't normally be subjected to extraordinary measures.
Chitose Lafferty was too public a personage to just simply "disappear" down a rabbit hole. She and her husband moved in the same social circles as the Shinra family and therefore had to be handled with kid gloves. In all honesty, Veld didn't think the porno really merited the kind of complications that would get him called on the carpet in the President's office. He and his people could handle the matter with more subtlety than that, and if nothing came of it, the President would just have to accept that some things—and some people—were simply too sensitive to address properly.
In theory, they only needed to be intimidating enough to terrify her and presumably she would gabble out her own complicity in the disgusting affair. Even that might be too much for the President to swallow, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt Veld or his Turks.
And if Chitose complained to him? Well, with luck, the Turks would have the porno in hand before sundown. Success should buy them pardons for frightening one of the President's snooty friends, should he ever hear of it.
At least, that was what Veld hoped. Most fervently.
The Turks had already searched all the Lafferty residences and tracked down all their accounts, safe deposit boxes, and private vaults. These were located all over the Planet, and locating them had taken a fair amount of manpower. They found nothing of interest in the current investigation. Which wasn't to say that they hadn't found a great many fascinating and highly illegal things in the course of their professional snooping. The Lafferty family definitely merited some watching, though Veld knew the Shinra family wasn't exactly innocent in such matters, either.
But whatever else the Laffertys kept secret, they didn't have the porno in any of their hiding places.
That made a little chat with Chitose Lafferty herself a necessity. It was a last resort, but it seemed she'd hidden the miserable thing someplace where even her husband didn't have access. A pity, Veld thought, that he couldn't just ask President Shinra to talk to her. She had kept it secret from her own husband all this time, so certainly she'd never discuss it voluntarily, not even with the President of the Shinra Electric Power Company.
How she'd managed to keep it hidden from the Turks' methods was one of the subjects Veld wanted to ask her about.
Veld took Tseng and Cissnei with him to go talk with her—in public, preferably. Witnesses should be present to keep the situation from getting out of hand and to provide the Turks with an alibi should Chitose take too much exception to being grilled.
The Turks had traced her PHS and located her in Midgar's most expensive shopping district. The shops were so exclusive that they weren't even located on the ground level near Loveless Avenue. A client needed reservations and had to be buzzed in. They then rode a special elevator to the upper floors of towering buildings, there to be greeted by personal shoppers and even the store owners—if said client was rich and important enough.
Chitose was currently spending her early afternoon inside a particularly expensive jewelry store, more private club than shop if truth be told. Only the upper crust of Midgar society patronized the place. In fact, the proprietor often made house calls—suitably guarded, of course—with special selections of jewels for his clientele to peruse in the privacy of their highly secured homes.
Veld rather wished Chitose had requested the jeweler to show her his wares in her own dwelling. It would have made the coming confrontation so much easier. Unfortunately Chitose was eccentric enough that she preferred being out and about. He supposed her strange fondness for doing her own shopping marched along with her bizarre obsession with Angeal Hewley, to the point that she became President of his official fan club.
Rich people had the weirdest hobbies, Veld mused as he loitered with his Turks, all wearing inconspicuous civilian clothes and pretending to chat about inconsequentialities. They absolutely were not watching the building's exits. Not at all.
"She's coming out," Tseng said quietly.
"With a bodyguard," Cissnei added. "Damn, he's huge."
"That's expected," Veld said, as the glossy double-doors opened and Chitose strolled out with her hulking guardian. She certainly looked the part of young society trophy wife, with her perfectly coifed black hair, heavy silk scarf, chunky gold and sapphire earrings, and high fashion outfit. The bodyguard was dressed inconspicuously, in a dark suit similar to a Turk's outfit, with perfectly combed hair and sunglasses that reminded Veld of Rude's usual eyewear.
Veld watched the pair turn down Loveless Avenue. They weren't in a hurry, and neither carried any packages. Presumably any expensive purchases would be delivered to the Lafferty townhome via armored vehicle. "All right, let's follow, but remember to keep a discreet distance."
The bodyguard was professional and efficient, guiding Chitose skillfully through the pedestrians while keeping alert for threats. At one point the man leaned down and spoke into his charge's ear, and she nodded. Veld and Tseng exchanged a glance and stayed a few blocks back to minimize their presence. Cissnei fell behind another block to watch their backs. Chitose and her bodyguard turned another corner, disappearing down an alley between several tall office buildings.
Veld said very quietly, "I don't hear any more footsteps. Bet they're waiting for us up ahead and around the corner."
"Agreed," said Tseng. "Amateurs."
"The bodyguard is competent, I think, but no Turk. What do you say to getting captured? They might feel chatty if we're at their mercy."
Tseng smiled. "A novel approach, but it should be diverting."
Cissnei melted into the background to cover them from an unobtrusive position. The other two Turks turned the same corner and entered the shadowy, deserted space. Overflowing trash dumpsters leaned against one structure, though other than that there wasn't much litter. Low income servicers kept the streets nearly spotless on the Upper Plate.
"That was very strange," Tseng remarked in a conversational tone, playing his role perfectly. "They just went down this alley. Where did they go?"
"Right here," a gravely male voice murmured a few meters behind them. "I'm armed. Don't turn around. Stay absolutely still."
"You would be the bodyguard, I presume," Veld stated. He nodded slightly to Tseng, who blinked his own acknowledgement. Neither raised their hands nor made any movements. Though both could deal with the problem quite efficiently, neither offered any resistance. Veld wanted to keep Chitose and her man overconfident. Let them think they had the upper hand. Perhaps he could get the information he wanted without them ever realizing they'd been interrogated and thus spare himself any trouble with President Shinra.
A cultured, young woman's voice spoke next: "Why were you following us?"
The bodyguard snapped, "I told you to keep going and call your chauffeur."
"I'm in charge here, not you."
The bodyguard muttered something under his breath. Veld only caught part of it, but what he heard wasn't complimentary to Chitose.
Chitose hissed, "What was that, Viktor?"
"I said your husband pays me to keep you safe, so let me do my Planet-damned job!"
Veld grinned and exchanged an entertained glance with Tseng. That wasn't even remotely close to what Viktor had originally said.
"You're paid to do what I want!" This outburst was followed by the sound of a high-heeled shoe stamping on the concrete.
Veld rolled his eyes. Seriously? They were bickering while holding two Turks at gunpoint? "If you two don't mind?" he said to shut them up and get their minds back on business. He wanted to know if they had any suspicions at all about why they were being followed.
"What do you want?" Chitose asked, stamping her foot again. "I don't like being followed!"
Viktor made a grumbling noise.
Veld exchanged another glance with Tseng, and slowly turned around. He raised his hands slightly as he assessed Viktor and the small but powerful handgun he held in a firm, steady grip. "You're famous," he said to Chitose. "You're the President of the Keepers of Honor, right? I've seen your picture on the club website."
"You've heard of me?" Chitose smiled brilliantly. "Are you fans of Angeal, too? Of course you are! How else would you know who I am? And you've been on our official site? How delightful."
What a gullible nitwit, Veld thought, and grinned like a fatuous idiot.
"Mrs. Lafferty," Viktor interrupted her babble, "they were following us. Does that sound like fans? Look at them! They can't be fans."
Veld was aware his own looks were rather rough despite his perfectly normal and inconspicuous civilian clothing. His facial scarring, his materia-powered prosthetic arm, and his default "I'd as soon shoot you as look at you" demeanor usually inspired suspicion and wariness in ordinary people. Nevertheless, he marshaled all his charm and smiled ingratiatingly. "Looks are deceiving. We can't all be pretty."
"You think I'm pretty?" Chitose said, batting her eyes at him. "I wish you'd tell my darling husband. He takes me for granted. Viktor, for Gaia's sake, put away that gun. They're Angeal fans, just like us!"
"Your darling husband would never forgive me," Viktor said dryly. He kept the gun trained on Veld and Tseng. He clearly wasn't an Angeal fan, and didn't believe they were, either.
Like Veld, Tseng used his body language to appear open and eager. He said smoothly, "We wanted to talk to you about, well, you know..."
"No, I don't know." Chitose tilted her head coquettishly. "You'll need to tell me."
Veld said, "You know. The centerfold."
Viktor said suspiciously, "Why are you interested in that centerfold? You don't look like the type."
"You think Angeal fans have types?" Tseng nudged Veld with his shoulder.
"They generally do," the bodyguard growled. "You two can't be SOLDIER groupies, and you're not like her and her friends." His head nodded at Chitose, but his suspicious stare never left the Turks.
"Well, you're right about that," said Veld. "I'm more interested in military studies, things like how SOLDIER operates internally and how they get promoted. The rank and command structure is vague compared to the Infantry of the Public Safety Division." Intentionally so, Veld knew, since SOLDIERs were usually treated as semi-independent operators and rarely worked in teams larger than two or three. Most often they handled missions alone. They operated quite similarly to Turks, in fact. Most civilians assumed SOLDIER worked like the regular military, but in reality it was completely independent of Public Safety. Veld knew Heidegger wanted to change that, but for the time being Lazard had control of his own people.
"That doesn't have anything to do with the centerfold, though," Chitose said, frowning prettily.
"He's only along because we had lunch together and spotted you as we were heading back to work," Tseng said, covering smoothly. "I was the one who recognized you. Honestly, when it comes to SOLDIERs, I just like following their lives and learning about how they became what they are now." He shrugged. "It's a hobby. Angeal Hewley is a perfect rags-to-riches story. The centerfold seems to be part of that progression. I'd like to know how it fits into the puzzle."
"You'd know about the picture and Barely Legal, wouldn't you?" Veld asked. He rather wished he had Cissnei with him, not Tseng. She'd probably have a damned giggle fest with Chitose over that fucking centerfold and everything would proceed as smooth as glass. He could have passed her off as his daughter or something.
Then again, a father wouldn't want his daughter looking at nude male centerfolds, would he? Probably it was better this way. "Was it real," he went on, "or are the tabloids right and it was faked?"
"Oh, that whole business was sooooo aggravating!" Chitose folded her arms across her bosom and looked so cross Veld wondered if she'd throw a tantrum right in front of them. "Of course it was real! I had my very own copy, too, but damn."
"You really had a copy?" Veld asked with spurious innocence.
"I suppose it doesn't matter any longer. Yes, I had my very own copy of the Barely Legal, Harvest Time Special! The rumors of its existence were absolutely true."
"Are you kidding me?" Tseng said with feigned fascination. "Is there any way to see it?"
"No, that's impossible now," Chitose said sulkily. "It disappeared just a few days after I got my hands on it. Someone stole it!"
"What? Who would take it?" Tseng said, pitching his voice so he sounded like a complete idiot.
"I have no idea. None of my friends will admit to it. I swore them all to secrecy when I showed it to them, but they blabbed anyway. You know how gossip goes. Probably everyone who matters on the entire Upper Plate knew about it by the next day."
Veld nodded sagely at the airheaded, rich bimbo. "And they told more friends, and then their friends told more friends, and so on, and so on, and so on."
Chitose heaved a sad sigh, making her ample cleavage rise and fall in a most attractive way. "Exactly. All I have left are my digital photos of it. I don't know why the tabloids decided it's faked, but I had the real thing." A single tear gathered in the corner of one eye. Delicately, she wiped it away.
"I can tell you're devastated." Veld was certainly disappointed, but Chitose Lafferty's loss of the porno was par for the course. Nothing regarding it had gone right. That stupid magazine would be the death of him!
Viktor huffed impatiently, but the weapon in his hand never wavered. "This is stupid, Mrs. Lafferty. Get their emails if you want to talk more. We can check them out later. Right now we don't know who they are, and we shouldn't be standing in an alley with them. For all we know, they want to rob you."
Veld widened his eyes in apparent surprise. "I would never—"
"Oh, spare me."
"You can contact me on the website," Chitose said. "I can even send you copies of the centerfold image. Secrecy doesn't matter now. It's all public knowledge, but at least my copies aren't censored like the ones that have been published." She tittered. "Everything is on display in perfect digital clarity!"
Maybe so, Veld thought, but all images on any connected computer or device had been altered by the SEPNET worm so if she ever had them checked, they'd show up as being faked, too. Just like the copies the tabloids possessed.
"Do you happen to have any other information about it?" Tseng inquired, keeping up his act of following SOLDIERs' lives. "How he came to pose for it, how it affected his life before joining SOLDIER, anything like that?"
"Oh, there was an article included," Chitose said airily, "but it was just a puff piece. Only some personal details, like him being from Banora and what food he liked best. It was all under that fake name he used."
"Yes, Michael Stevens," Tseng said.
"Such a boring, unimaginative name for such a gorgeous, magnificent body," Chitose sighed. "I didn't bother recording anything from the article. The club gets that kind of information from Shinra itself."
"Mrs. Lafferty," Viktor growled, trying to get her attention.
Tseng said to her, "That's a shame. I promise I'll be in touch. If you come into any other information about it, I'd appreciate it if you'd send me a copy."
"I'll be sure to do that," she said, smiling. "Send me your email when you get a chance."
"That's enough, Mrs. Lafferty. Go on ahead," Viktor told her roughly.
Chitose waggled her fingers at Veld and Tseng. "Nice talking to fellow fans." She practically skipped away, obviously happy with the short encounter.
Not as pleased as his employer's wife, Viktor said, "Turn around, both of you. I don't trust you. You bullshitted Chitose, but I think you're up to something."
"Obviously not," said Veld, "since we just let your friend waltz away."
"Screw you." Viktor backed up the way Chitose had gone. "I said turn around."
Obligingly, Veld and Tseng both turned. They gave each other another glance, ready to dodge and roll in case Viktor decided to gun them down, though Cissnei would eliminate any threat before they needed to act.
Nothing appalling happened. They heard receding footsteps and turned back. Viktor was gone.
A moment later, Cissnei came around the corner and said, "What a pair of idiots."
"Are you talking about Chitose and Viktor, or us?" Tseng asked blandly.
"Does it matter?"
"That's insubordinate of you," Veld told her, but he didn't blame her in the slightest. He and Tseng had done their best to come across as idiots, after all.
Cissnei grinned at him.
"No matter how ridiculous we sounded, we got what we needed," he said.
"If not what we wanted," Tseng put in.
Cissnei shook her head. "So that society bitch doesn't have it, either. It seems no one has that stupid magazine. Who could have stolen it?"
"That's the ten million gil question," said Veld, scowling.
"What next?"
"Get on the Keepers of Honor website and communicate with Mrs. Lafferty. Chatter with her and get a list of those 'friends' who saw the porno. Track their contacts and phone calls."
"And then?"
"And then we hope an interesting lead turns up."
Notes:
Probably everyone knows this, but just in case: https colon slash slash en dot wikipedia dot org slash wiki slash Wetwork : Wetwork is a euphemism for murder or assassination that alludes to spilling blood.
Anyone remember the old shampoo commercials from the 1980s? "And so on, and so on, and so on..." https colon slash slash www dot youtube dot com slash watch?v=Hyxmj1Yf6Dk
Next time: Lazard, Veld, and Sephiroth assess the current status.