Investigating “Suicide”

Location: Los Angeles

Date: June 8 2008

A week later, after Stark came out as Iron Man, I was sitting in my office doing nothing. Well, I went over my files one hundred and one times already, and there was little left to be recorded. So far, I omitted only one major thing - HYDRA's involvement in the death of his parents and the Winter Soldier's role in it.

I need to tell him about it, the longer I wait the harder it would be. So far, I had a good excuse not to bring it, he was busy with SI, with terrorists and the fallout after he announced himself as Iron Man. We need to debrief soon and make a plan to move forward. 

Hopefully, we will do it this or next week.

Another sore point that was bugging me, since cluster fuck with Stane, was my perception of the Stark. I perceived Stark through the lens of his future self. The future self that fucked up and suffered for it. The future self that I saw doing impossible and learned to respect later.

The problem is, this Stark is not his future self yet, and may never be. Unless we fail to divert the future to another road and last week's event showed that it's not as easy as it looks.

I knew that Stane was up to no good, I even took steps to prevent it. Still, events came to the same point. And while my knowledge about those days was limited, there was, with no doubt, something else taking place that was hard to account for.

After all that J did for my return to US soil, I was under the assumption that he could do a lot of things. That if Stark chose to unleash J on something, it would be borderline impossible to escape his watchful eyes. That there is nothing short of a power outage that can stop J.

Still, Stane somehow managed to slip out and get into Stark's mansion without being noticed.

Someone helped him, someone with an agenda that I didn't account for.

It might be SHIELD, HYDRA or any other shadow power that planned to benefit from Stane or his action. One thing is sure, they had no issues with him killing Stark.

Unfortunately, there wasn't enough data, and any investigation J conducted afterwards yielded no results.

What was I thinking about? Right, Stark, or more precisely, this time Stark. I have to accept that this Stark is prone to make mistakes, that his future self made before. I need to account for that in the future.

Then I got a knock on my door.

"Come in"

🕷

Half an hour later, I forgot to think about Stark and his problems, about HYDRA acting in the shadows. 

At least for a bit, I had another interesting puzzle to solve.

Just now, I had a visit from Kettlebell's father, who came to thank me for finding his daughter. But that's not what I was thinking about. During all thanks and promises to pay me back in favour, he mentioned that the case was closed because the cop (what was his name, George?) found a way to kill himself.

Right. I am sure, he even asked his old buddies to hold his legs, while he was at it.

I grubbed a phone and dropped J message:

N> J. Can you look into Kettlebell's case for me, please?

J> What am I looking for, Miss Romanova

N> Any connections that cop, George something? had over, let's say, half a year? Whatever you can find.

J> Of course, Miss Romanova"

N> Tnx

I can drop it, honestly, I have more important things to do and focus on. But the picture of a beaten-up girl in a cage and a camera on a tripod stopped me from moving on. It was not a simple abduction crime with sexual abuse, there should be more to that. Something that I don't feel myself ignoring and moving on.

It is time to do more digging. 

🕷

It was almost a week later when J sent me a report on all the connections that he found between Miss Kettlebell's abductor and other people. 

We got three other suspects that J found a connection to after he pulled out the cop's call and text messages log from the mobile company server.

The first one was thirty-six-year-old James Calistor, caucasian, six feet tall, blond, Municipality worker, single, no kids. His old parents live in Oklahoma State. 

The second - Royce Lynn, twenty-five, caucasian, six feet and two inches tall, no living family members, single and no kids as well, currently unemployed.

The third was a woman, and it looked like she was more important than any other one. Tessa Smith, thirty-five, east Asian. Single and no kids. Work as a realtor agent. 

I concluded that she was the leader of this group because Smith ordered two other males to lay low and send them out of the city while she took a trip to Phoenix for a week when it became known that the cop was arrested.

What I found interesting is that they know nothing about the latest abduction. My best guess? The cop got himself a side project for personal use. As awful as it sounds, it is the only explanation I came up with.

I asked J to monitor them all and see if he can find any other contacts. I highly doubt, that these two guys, or the woman, helped the cop to "suicide". No, there are marks for more organised crime and someone took care of that.

🕷

For the last few days, since I became aware of them, we have been monitoring their movement and communications. Guys were still out of town, while Smith returned to LA the next day after the cop died.

There was nothing suspicious so far, but it was expected, they were trying to stay low.

Then Smith got a call from Phoenix, as J found later, from Josef Walker. J was able to make a call record for me:

W: "Good afternoon Miss Smith"

S: "Ah, Mister Walker, Good day for you too. How can I help you today?"

W: "Well, I received your email. Is there anything we can do to rush a job?"

S: (with frustration in the voice) "As I explained, we need an extra month to finish it. It is not safe to rush it, we have to follow regulations and protocols, I am sure you understand"

W: "I have used your service for a while, Miss Smith, I am sure you can find a way around regulations"

S: "Mister Walker, they exist for a reason. Somebody might die if they don't follow it and become careless."

W: "Fine. Let me know when the job is done."

I spent some time thinking about it. This Walker doesn't sound like he is a part of the group. No, the impression I got from this call is straightforward - he is the client.

Well, good enough lead as any, for now. And so I dug deeper into Walker.

A surface search on Josef Walker showed that he is thirty-two and works in the financial sector. He originated from an old family that immigrated to the US in the 18th century. Currently, the Walker family is the second richest in Phoenix. They hold not a small pull over local government, effectively manipulating it with their finances.

When I dug the dipper, some shit started to surface. This Walker had a party life that would put Stark to shame. There were a few cases when he was caught in a scandal or two, with rape claims but the victim conveniently disappeared and the case was closed.

The more I found, the more I was sure that Smith and Walker's business had nothing to do with real estate.

I need to go to Phoenix and do some digging there.

🕷

It was already dark when I arrived at the Hotel in Phoenix. After a quick shower, I spent hours reviewing everything that J. found.

It looks like Walker's last brush with the law made him cautious. It did not deter him from rape; he just got smarter about it.

He organised a closed club with invite-only members where they were doing quite illegal things. 

It took some time for J to trace most of the members: they were using phones registered in someone else's name, to cover any communications. Walker's stupidity helped us to find it out: he sent himself a message from his anonymous phone.

The data from the Walker's phone had even more information on them and their crimes. When I saw it, I felt my blood run cold - it was horror-level media material. Something that is going to land them all in jail for a long time.

🕷

I spent the next few days conducting surveillance on the locations utilised by this club. So far J. found two different "safe" houses. I did a recon for each of them, ensuring I knew the ins and outs, just in case it might become relevant or useful.

To avoid spooking them, if they have anyone on the lookout, I rent a new car every day, sometimes even a few times per day.

Every evening I spent reviewing the intel, collected by J and making a map of interactions. Especially how Smith fits into all this. J was able to find a correlation between the time when Smith and Walker had a spike of communication with cases of abducted girls that we were able to identify from Walker's phone pictures.

There were more than 60% matches between the recognised victims and their disappearance date. There is only one explanation: Smith was doing dirty work for them.

🕷

Walker tried to contact Smith again, but she stopped to pick up his calls. It affected his behaviour and he became more aggressive and restless. He started spending half an hour every day driving slowly on less populated streets. 

I had a bad feeling about that.

Unfortunately, most of my collected "evidence" is highly illegal. Not only will it not be admissible in court, but I will be prosecuted if it becomes known.

Seeing where it was going, I started to prepare. If I am going to catch Walker red-handed, I need a plan. I need to make it as clean as possible so that any lawyer would have a hard time disregarding arrest and any evidence that comes with it.

🕷

I was sitting outside Angie's Prime Grill, drinking my coffee and waiting to see a specific person. J. was able to dig into some cases that were related to human trafficking in this branch of the FBI and found the name of the agent, who was on such cases for at least two years.

Agent Dabber was middle-aged, with sandy hair and brown eyes. When he passed me, entering inside, I took stock of him. He was dressed in a nice two-piece suit, light grey colour, with a white shirt. He kept his service gun on the waist on the right side, left-handed then.

When I started to look for a way to arrest Walker and his little club, I became aware of the trouble of doing so. Walker's name was carrying a weight and any case with that name very quickly became politically charged. I needed to find someone capable of doing it, who would take on this case without faltering as soon as he heard the suspect's family name.

That's how I found John Dabber. He is a senior FBI agent and his name was mentioned in multiple cases, all related to abduction and human trafficking. It was exactly what I needed.

I patiently waited, until he came out and took a seat. Unfortunately, his lunch is going to be spoiled.

I stood up and moved his way. He immediately spotted me and tried to hide his reaction, presenting himself as relaxed.

"Mr Dabber," I said and sat on another side of the table. I put my badge and driver's licence on the table, which I kept in my hand. 

"PI Romanova, Los Angeles"

He looked at the badge, DL and then back at me. With a raised brow he bites his burrito and keeps his eyes on me, but a bit unfocused. Ah, he is paying attention to the surroundings.

I took a folder from under my left hand, opened it and turned around. He raised both brows and, still saying nothing, chewed on his burrito while looking at pages and photos inside.

As soon as he recognized what he saw, he pulled the folder closer and went over pages with more focus. It took him five minutes to read it all, absently finishing up a burrito in a few big bites.

He was silent for another minute contemplating it, until finally said:

"There is not enough evidence to issue a warrant, most of it is hearsay or not admissible in court."

The investigation report I gave him was somewhat close to reality, except I replaced "J" with an anonymous source. I had to be careful about what I included in it. I needed to get his attention, yes, but I didn't need him to get interested in how I got this information and who my sources were.

"I spent the last few days following Mr Walker and he was expressing erratic behaviour. We might be able to catch him in the act."

He grimaced, but eventually agreed:

"I might pull some favours to get an approved order on surveillance, but I will have up to five days to report on it. As soon as I put the name into the system, it will be a shit show with no results."

"What if, hypothetically speaking, I became an unlucky victim of abduction?"

He looked up at me with interest and replied:

"That might work, but we will do it a bit differently. I will register you as my informant, let's say Strawberry," he gave me a humorous smile and continued: "When you, so happen, will get abducted, you press a panic button. I may have more leeway to sweep in with the SWAT team then"

"Deal"

🕷

It took another three days and a half for Walker to take a bait. All three of those days, I tried different approaches to get his attention: a businesswoman, a risky dressed butterfly, but he baited only on school uniform, on my third try.

All those three days, Walker kept the same predictable pattern, he would get to the same part of the city, the same streets and drive slowly, looking out from the back of his car.

I highly suspected, at this point, that his driver and bodyguard were aware of his unsavoury activities and didn't care.

Thanks to that, I was able to find a perfect spot to get his attention and make it easy for him to do so, there were no visible CCTVs, and the street was empty at this time of the day.

They did not drive behind me for too long. I heard the car door slap and then someone started to follow me. A quick look back confirmed that it was Walker's bodyguard.

He caught up with me fast and when I felt his hand on my shoulder, I faked a frightening squeal. Right on the clue, Walker's car stopped next to us and the bodyguard shoved me inside.

I gave just a token of resistance, more screaming than doing anything physical. Walker personally pressed a gun, a bulldog revolver, to my head. I noticed that it had an empty chamber for the next few shots. Sloppy.

"Shut up!" He aggressively pushed it and I immediately did so, leaning even more into scared expressions, with trembling lips.

"You listen and do what we say, you get out of it unscratched. Got it?"

He said with a quite sadistic curl to his lips. He probably finds it entertaining. I gave a shaky nod and the bodyguard grabbed my hands, putting a rope around it a few times. Not the best knot, that I know.

He also took my backpack off, cutting strips with a knife in the process, and patted my pockets for a phone or something, letting his hands linger in some places, and giving me a wicked smile.

I kept playing scared girl and tried to make my profile even smaller in the corner of the car. Walker was busy on his phone, sending messages, while his bodyguard was staring at me with a menacing grin. Good, it would be better if we catch them all.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at a standalone house, and drove inside, when the garage door opened automatically. I was already familiar with this house; it was one of the club premises I had scouted before today. The bodyguard dragged me out, pulling on a rope on my hands and led me down to the basement, where he locked me in some small and dark room.

I pulled an earpiece from my hidden pocket and put it on.

"I am in," I said loud enough that a built-in microphone could pick it up.

"Sitrep, Strawberry" I heard Dabber's voice.

"I am somewhere in the basement, in a cupboard. Target sent messages, expect guests arriving soon"

"Roger. Goodluck"

"К черту" I replied. 

I had to hurriedly hide my earpiece when I heard loud footsteps going down.

"Come out, let's play a bit and you will go home" I heard Walker's fake sweet voice…

🕷

"FBI! On the ground! On the ground!"

I did not let myself relax, not yet. I was right to do so, when Walker's bodyguard, who was standing behind me went for the knife, clearly planning to take a fall instead of his boss, by silencing me permanently.

Thankfully while my hands were up in the air attached to the hook on the ceiling, my legs were still free. Time stretched and I kicked his knife hand hard, probably breaking fingers in the process. With a pull on the rope, I jumped high and I locked his neck between my thighs. The rope got loose from the hook, and I flipped backward, dragging him with me and dropping him hard, head forward, on the ground. Another roll and I was on top of him, bringing my hands, locked together, to his nose. His head snapped back at the concrete floor with a wooden sound. It knocked him out, I might or might not, broke his nose and gave him a concussion.

As soon as I stood up, he was cuffed by two agents and dragged out. I looked around and with satisfaction saw that everyone was in the process of the arrest.

Agent Dabber made his way to me.

"Strawberry, you good?" he asked while taking off his jacket.

"Never the better" I gave him a grateful smile, letting him cover my torn clothes. It was not a peaceful waiting time.

Other agents were already collecting evidence and taking pictures.

"Let's get out of here, and take this off" He nodded to my still tied-up hands.

"Yeah, paperwork?" I gave him a playful smile.

"Paperwork" he agreed and grimaced. 

I laughed at that a bit.

🕷

Agent Dabber and I spent the next few hours doing a lot of paperwork.

He kept my name out of the case files, as promised, claiming informant protection and whatnot. I might need to go to court at a later date, but he promised to do his best to avoid that.

That's why I had to do this paperwork, mostly statements and so on, so my involvement in the process will be minimal.

"I hate you," said Agent Dabber in good humour.

"At least you will get a promotion" I jabbed back.

"Right. I never asked how you came across this information?" he asked absently.

I expected him to ask it on the day when I gave him my compiled "evidence", but he never did so, until now.

I shrugged and explained my cover story more:

"Last month I had a case with a missing girl who was abducted after school. A few weeks later, the main suspect died by suicide," I made a quote gesture with my hands.

"I got suspicious and started to dig and ask around" I finished and went back to the paper in hand.

"Oh, right! Your picture was on the news. That's why you looked so familiar. It has been bugging me since we met." He lit up, to that.

"I just hope they don't get wind of my involvement this time" I grumbled

"You should be fine. Your name is nowhere mentioned," he said with chuckles.

After a pause, he asked the question I had been waiting to hear since our first meeting. Honestly, he was taking his time with it.

"What I don't get is why you decided to come to the FBI, especially me," he tried to sound relaxed, but there was hidden readiness under it.

"Two years ago I was in Phoenix for one night and Walker was on the news. I got interested and read about him back then. Professional curiosity if you wish. It all clicked together when I saw him with Smith. It's a cross-state crime, FBI jurisdiction, so that was easy to decide. I was ready to walk in with all I had, but then I came across your name. You have been mentioned in the case six months ago."

He relaxed this time for real. I smiled at him, and then, with a slam on the stack of documents, put the last paper on top.

"I am done. You lost."

"Hey, I did not know it was a competition" He complained, but there was a smile on his face. 

🕷

The next morning, Tess Smith was arrested by the FBI, as J. informed me. While I had no good evidence to prove their connection, it was enough for them to untangle it from whatever they had in evidence. 

Agent Dabber called me later and invited me for lunch. I accepted it, he might be a valuable contact in the FBI in the future.

We were sitting in the open-air cafe, the same BBQ place, talking about non-important stuff, when he finally said.

"I should not tell you this, but you are already deep in this case anyway. Walker finally cracked and started to talk. I have been in business for years already, but the shit that started to come up made my hair stand."

"Should I worry about Walkers?" I asked cautiously. There is a possibility that Walker's family decides to retaliate. They definitely could pull it off.

"Nah, you are good. They are busy saving their political capital now" he discarded my worry.

I didn't object but kept it to myself. They might hold a grudge for a while and come at me later.

"How is it with his LA contacts?" I probed for details that I already knew. Let him think he shared it, not me finding it out miraculously.

He looked a bit conflicted, then looked around. Finally making a decision, he leaned forward and whispered:

"They got arrested. I think we got a lead on a trafficking organisation."

"I hear nothing," I replied, making a zipping mouth gesture.

After that, we chatted and he attempted to flirt with me for a bit. Fortunately, he got hints and we went our separate ways.

He was cute, but sex as itself did not appeal to me. That was one of the reasons why they cut the womb out of the girls in the Red Room. We were trained to be seductive and good lovers but we never enjoyed it. When your hormones fucked up like that, it became a different thing altogether.

I was on my way back home, when J. informed me that Smith had a severe allergic reaction during her dinner and died in hospital.

Someone was quick to cut loose ends. It was getting dangerous and interesting.

🕷