A/N1: At this point, I have no idea who owns Chuck. I guess Warner Brothers. Wait, have I said that before? Damn, I hope not. LOL.
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Assistant District Attorney Milla Green looked a bit frazzled, unlike her normal buttoned-down self. There were maybe three hairs out of place on her head and her lipstick seemed to have been reapplied without a mirror.
"Sorry, guys. I wish I could give you more time, but I've got to be in court in twenty minutes. An unexpected motion on a case. I did the papers this morning, but the judge suddenly decided she wanted an oral argument from counsel," she said.
"No worries, Ms. Green. We'll dispense with the pleasantries," said Booker. "On our side of the Peralta thing there were three major investigations Peralta was up to. One of them turned out to be nothing, leaving us two. A real estate deal that's a joint venture between Tony Acosta and a Swiss engineering company. Buying a commercial office building. We're still looking at that one. Captain Wallace took us to see Tony Acosta..."
"You met Old Man Acosta?" she asked with surprise, her eyebrows rising to her hairline.
"Yeah, we did," said Chen with an insouciant grin. "And with all due respect, Ma'am, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be happy with anyone calling him Old Man."
Green barked out a quick laugh, "Ok. I'll remember that when I can ever get him as a defendant." Both men laughed.
"Anyway," continued Booker, "He wouldn't tell us anything about the real estate deal and, of course, told us he didn't have Peralta killed."
"You believe him?" asked Green.
"We don't want to, but ... well, I guess we don't know. We certainly didn't walk away from the meeting putting a target on him any bigger than what we had walked in with. We'll meet the Swiss this afternoon. Get a better feel then, I think," said Booker.
"Fair enough," said Green.
Chen said, "The other thing is a Federal investigation. We asked some friends of ours to take it. We spoke to them this morning and they think there's enough smoke that they might have a handle of some definite illegal shit. Of course, even if they do, that doesn't mean those bad guys had Peralta killed."
"'Some friends'? Federal friends?" she said with a grin. "So, the rumors are true. You two have an in with the Carmichael team."
Trying not to look too proud of themselves, they looked back at ADA Green and Booker said, schooling his face into a neutral expression, "Sorry, Ma'am, we don't know what you are talking about."
Green looked at them both with the certainty that she was right. She smirked at them and said, "First of all, you are both terrible liars. And second, if either one of you ever calls me 'Ma'am' again I will beat the shit out of the other one. You got me?"
They all laughed.
"Ok, Ms. Green, your turn. What have your investigators figured out?" asked Chen. Lt. Spangler had leveraged the public heat on the case to get the assistance of members of the investigative arm of the DA's office to get some additional bodies on the plethora of leads they had to look at.
Green took a deep breath in preparation for her answer. She looked at the notes on the table in front of her. "You turned over to us seven threats against the victim. We cleared four out of seven. Three had solid alibis and one was a total nutjob, only dangerous to the concept of truth and justice and sanity. That left us with three. We are still working those. I'll let you know if any looks interesting or falls off the table. You also gave us the vic's two cell phones. One was used only for people at the newspaper, past and present. The other was used to contact only burners and, no surprise, whoever he was calling with that one – well, it looks like they threw their burners away when their contact ended up dead. Duh."
"Yeah. Ok. Thanks, Ms. Green. Let's keep in touch as things progress, please," said Chen.
"Yeah. Let's. I'm sorry I don't have more time for you today. And seriously, guys. Call me Milla," she said.
"Yes, Ms. Green," said Chen with a smile, his eyes twinkling.
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The tall office building probably held over a hundred tenants and the Noparnis Group was on the twenty-first floor. Security in the lobby let them through the turnstiles to the elevator banks.
Exiting the elevator lobby, it was clear that the company had the entirety of the floor. The receptionist had been expecting them and politely escorted them to a small conference room near the reception area, offering them coffee or water. Both men declined.
They had been a bit early for the meeting and waited silently in the conference room until the man or men they wanted to speak to joined them. At precisely three PM, the door opened and two men in their forties wearing business suits and ties entered. One of them wore a matching vest under his suit jacket, a level of formality almost unheard of in Los Angeles. Both men had pale skin, light brown hair and glasses. They were slender and tidy and completely buttoned down. They could have been brothers, although one appeared older than the other.
Both were so somber as to appear unfriendly. With completely unsmiling faces they extended their hands for perfunctory handshakes.
"Good afternoon, detectives," said the older man, with what they assumed was a Swiss accent. "My name is Dr. Hans Weber. I am the attorney for the Noparnis Group here in Los Angeles. I will participate in these discussions. My client is Mr. Bernard Holt, the Managing Partner of this office. He does not speak English and I will be translating for him as the discussion progresses." When he finished his remarks, he slid two business cards across the polished wood of the table.
"Thank you, Sir. I'm Detective Booker and this is Detective Chen. Thank you for meeting with us." The younger men shared their business cards as well.
"Please understand, we want to cooperate, but both Mr. Holt and myself are very busy men, so if you can ask your questions with some alacrity, that would be appreciated. We have to get back to work."
"Yes, Sir," said Chen. He took out his phone and said, "If you won't mind, we'd like to record this conversation."
"No," said Weber. "No recording."
Both detectives were a little startled, but recovered quickly enough for it not to be noticeable. Chen put his phone back in his pocket and took out his little notebook and a pen.
He said, "Very well, Sir. Before we proceed may I ask you to clarify, please. You indicated that Mr. Holt is your client, but that you are counsel to the company. Based on your statement, we are to assume that the Noparnis Group is not represented here today and you are representing Mr. Holt in his personal capacity. Is that right?"
Weber was, as Chen intended, thrown off balance by the question. He made some noises as if he were preparing to answer and finally said, "I am representing both the company and Mr. Holt personally."
"Very well," said Chen. "I presume your clients have waived the obvious conflict of interest, but that's your problem, not mine. So, to get started, we are investigating the death of the investigative journalist Vincent Peralta. We understand that one of the investigations he had ongoing was with respect to the real estate joint venture you are engaged in with the Acosta family."
When Chen stopped talking he and Booker looked at the other men, who looked back at them stone-faced and, seemingly, patient. The silence dragged until Weber said, "I'm waiting for a question."
"Do you know why he might have been investigating that transaction?" asked Booker, unfazed by the pause.
"No," said Weber.
"But it is an ongoing transaction?" asked Chen.
"Yes," replied Weber.
"Do you want to ask your client?" asked Chen.
"No," said Weber.
"How did you or your clients meet Tony Acosta?" asked Chen.
There was an exchange in German between the two men until Weber said, "He and Mr. Holt belong to the same golf club and have known each other for several years. They play golf together occasionally."
"Must be tough when Mr. Holt doesn't speak English. Does Tony Acosta speak German?"
"Not that I'm aware of," said Weber, looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Ok. What can you tell us about the transaction you are contemplating?" asked Booker.
"We are in partnership with Mr. Acosta for the purchase of an investment. That's all that's pertinent about the transaction," said Weber.
Holt began to speak to Weber in German for a few moments.
When that conversation had ended, Weber looked back at the policemen. Again, they waited. Finally, Booker said, "What did he say?"
"He said I described it correctly to you. Just an investment," said Weber.
"No kidding. And how did he know what you told us if he doesn't speak English?" asked Chen.
"He followed along, albeit imperfectly," said Weber, deadpan.
"I'm sure you have explained to your client that lying to the police in the midst of a homicide investigation is a felony punishable by up to five years in prison," said Booker, staring hard at Holt. Booker'd made that up, but it sounded scary. He did it to see the result. As he expected, Holt's eyes widened for an instant as he took in the information. 'Doesn't speak English my ass,' confirming what both detectives were thinking.
"What is special about this building you are going to purchase?" asked Chen.
"Special? Nothing special. It's a sensible business deal. Just like hundreds of potential real estate purchases around Los Angeles at the moment," said Weber.
"Fair enough. But you picked this one. Why?"
Holt again spoke to Weber in German and Weber said, "It came to our attention. No more complicated than that."
"Really? Did you bring the transaction to Acosta or did he make you aware of it?" asked Chen.
Another German conversation after which Weber said, "Mr. Holt does not remember."
"I'll bet," Booker's voice turned louder and harsher, giving these two idiots the serious 'cop voice.' "Now how about we stop the bullshit about you not speaking English, Mr. Holt? So, I'm going to address you directly from now on. Is the Noparnis Group generally interested in real estate?" asked Booker.
Holt looked chagrinned and intimidated, but said, hesitatingly, "My English is not as fluent as Hans' is. What do you mean?" He had the same accent in English as Weber and seemed perfectly fluent.
"Well, for example, this is a pretty big building. Do you own it?" asked Booker, waving his hands around in an effort to encompass the building they sat in.
"We do not. We are a tenant here," said Weber.
"Ok. I got it. A pretty big investment to swallow after all. Huge building. Big deal. Our understanding is that you are an engineering firm. So how much other real estate do you own in Los Angeles?" asked Booker.
At this point, both Holt and Weber began to look uncomfortable. "At the moment, none. But this expansion of our interests is in the best interest of the company," said Holt. "Diversification is in the future for us."
"None? No other real estate in Los Angeles. How about California? Any real estate in California?" asked Booker.
Both men were squirming in their chairs. "No. None. Not yet, at least. But we will. We are considering other properties," said Weber.
"Ok. Your company own a lot of real estate elsewhere? In the US? Internationally?" asked Booker, his question coming so soon after their answer that it didn't give them time to think.
"I don't know," answered Holt, reflexively.
Both detectives looked at Weber, who said, "I don't know either."
"Ok. But at least in Los Angeles nothing yet. Perhaps nothing around the world, even. This property with the Acosta family is the only one and the first one you've been considering, although there's nothing special about it. What are you paying for it?"
Looking smug, Weber said, "I'm afraid we cannot answer that question. The purchase contract contains a confidentiality provision."
"I understand," said Booker, "but in my experience those provisions contain an exception when disclosure is required by law."
"Perhaps were you to obtain a court order, we could be more helpful," said Weber, gaining confidence as he felt on his own turf.
Booker smiled and said, nodding, "We'll see. In the meantime, what was the original asking price for the building? I'm not asking what you are paying for it, so the information will not be classified."
Both men looked at each other and Holt said, "I don't remember."
"So, you can't tell me if you are buying this excellent investment at above or below the asking price?" asked Booker.
"I don't remember," said Holt.
"Dr. Weber?"
"I don't remember either," he said.
"Really?" asked Booker, with obvious disbelief.
"Now you are just being insulting, detective. If you continue that tone this conversation is over. We want to cooperate with the police, but only as a courtesy," complained Weber.
"I apologize, Dr. Weber. Please excuse me. Now, from what you've told me, Noparnis has big plans on the California real estate market to buy more investments, is that right?" asked Booker.
"Yes, exactly," said Weber, grasping at that explanation.
"I understand. But this property isn't particularly special for any reason at all, right?" asked Booker.
"Just a good investment," said Holt, his eyes darting around the room, as if looking for an escape.
"Well, that's good to know. Listen, with all your newfound interest in California real estate, you guys must be using a pretty top-notch broker to show you potential investments. Can you give me his or her name? I'd like to ask them what else they've shown you," said Booker.
"Broker?" asked Holt, looking scared.
"Yeah," said Booker. "You know. The guys whose job is to show you properties you might want to buy. Brokers. You've got to have them in Switzerland also, right? So, who is your broker?"
Holt began to stammer and panic. Weber held it together better, but not perfectly. After a moment, he said, "I don't see what that has to do with your murder investigation, detectives. I think we are done here." He was attempting to make it sound authoritative, but it came out merely desperate. He put both hands palm down on the table and stood, to signal that the meeting was over.
Prior to rising both Booker and Chen gave both men the dead-eyed cop stare, as if they were looking at an insect on a board with a pin through its middle but still squirming. The two businessmen weren't built to withstand that sort of pressure and it didn't take long for Weber to try to rush them both out of the room.
"You gentlemen can see yourselves out," said Weber, over his shoulder in his haste to escape.
Booker and Chen finally stood. Booker looked at both men and said, deadpan but with hard eyes, "Mr. Holt, Dr. Weber." The men stopped halfway out the door and looked back at the detectives. "Don't leave Los Angeles."
A few moments later Booker and Chen were in the elevator going down to the building's lobby. Chen said to his partner, "Don't leave Los Angeles? What the fuck was that about?"
Booker said, grinning at his partner, "I just thought I'd fuck with those bozos a little bit."
Both men began to laugh.
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Rachel was contemplating which of the myriad of things on her desk she should approach next when there was a knock on the frame of her open door. The enormous bulk of Mike Colt stood blocking the opening with Jorge seemingly hidden behind him.
"Hey, guys," she said with a smile. "What's up?"
"We cracked it, Rach. You'll have enough for the FISA warrant on Arapaho," said Colt.
"Excellent," said Rachel with a smile. She gestured for the men to sit down and close the door.
She felt a twinge of sympathy for Colt's chair.
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An hour later, she was in Castle on a video conference with Director Malone.
"Thank you for making time for me, Sir," she said.
"Never an issue, Ms. Bernstein. I presume this involves the American company potentially smuggling banned items to the North Koreans."
"Exactly. We got into the computers of the Vietnamese middleman and found an encrypted hard drive. We cracked it and got to the emails we needed. I'll be in contact with the Justice Department right away to process FISA warrants. Once we have those, I'll reach out to our contacts at the FBI to get them started."
"Sounds like an excellent plan, Ms. Bernstein," said Malone.
"I'd like something from you, though, Sir," said Rachel.
"Of course," he replied.
"The contraband electronics are already in Vietnam and the arrangements for the hand-off to the North Koreans haven't been finalized yet. I'd like your permission to send Mike Colt and his team to Haiphong Harbor to destroy the devices before they can be moved. Mr. Colt and I agree that once they are on the move to North Korea they will be much harder to interdict."
"May I assume that Chuck and Sarah are in agreement with the plan?" he asked.
"No, Sir, they are not. I have no intention of interfering with the pre-wedding preparations. This is a decision I have made with the other members of the team."
Malone began to laugh. "No more training wheels for you, huh? Planning your own intelligence ops. How long you been in this nutty world of ours?"
"A few months, Sir." Without his laugh she'd have been rattled by his words, but she understood them to be good natured.
"Fast learner. Well, you're kick ass, kid. If you were one of my sailors, you'd be on a fast track. You want to send your guys into Vietnam? You got it. Coordinate through Langston's people and then go for it," he said. "And good luck."
"Will do. Thank you, Sir."
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A/N2: The appellation of 'Doctor' for an attorney is generally a European thing. Although American lawyers hold a 'Juris Doctor' degree, it is not used in the same formal way.
A/N3: Love to hear from you guys. As always.