Against the Clock (12 page)

"ID?" he said bluntly.

Shirin handed a glossy, embossed business card across the stained desk, Williams, Rimmington& Associates clearly emblazoned across the card in gold lettering. Should they verify the numbers and her credentials, the call would be re-routed to Istanbul, where a professional sounding receptionist would confirm her status. It would pass a superficial inquiry. Under the circumstances, it was a gamble she had to take.

"Wait here."The sergeant spat as he walked away.

Shirin waited, stood erect, at full attention, and passed a cursory glance, for show, at the expensive Machine watch adorning her left wrist. She met the curious and annoyed looks of people watching her with a menacing glare. She was unflinching, unforgiving. They left her alone, choosing instead to mumble and complain amongst themselves.

"Ms. Yates."

Shirin turned to see a middle aged, tired looking man walk toward her.

"My name is Detective Fairley. I understand you represent an individual we are holding for questioning."

"Yes, detective."She accepted his outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. "I am here to expedite his release, and ensure that his constitutional rights are maintained."

"Yes, of course," Fairley said, his tone neutral. "Please, follow me."

Entering the secured door into the belly of the Belmont Police Headquarters, the thrum of activity was palpable.

She followed Fairley through the maze of cubicles to a side nook that revealed an elevator and emergency stairwell. Tucked neatly off to the side, beside the elevator panel, it was noticeably quieter.

"If you don't mind me asking," Fairley started, "how did you become aware of your client being detained?"While his tone was soft and disarming, he looked Shirin squarely in the eyes. "As I understand it, he has not requested to make any phone calls."

"Outside of professional courtesy, detective, I am not required to explain my appointment to this case. You, however, are required to allow my client access to legal counsel. I am his legal counsel. Shall we proceed?"

Fairley didn't flinch at her aggressive stance, nor did he choose to match her intensity.

There was something about him Shirin liked. His face was hard, his eyes sad. It was a sentiment she felt close to.

"Very well," he said finally. He pushed the down button for the elevator and continued talking without looking at her. "He is being transferred now to an interview room. Agents from the Federal Police are here and requested a closed interview."

"Excuse me?" Shirin started, clearly caught off guard.

"They arrived a few minutes before you and determined, considering the gravity of violence he is suspected of, that it would be too dangerous for an open interview."

Shirin was about to interrupt with heated rejection, when Fairley raised his hand to pause her long enough to finish his sentence.

"You will be able to monitor the interview from an adjoining room via video and audio link to ascertain that his rights are indeed maintained. At such a time that it is deemed safe for you to join him, we will make every effort to get you into the room with him."

"This is ridiculous, detective!"

Fairley shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"It is what it is, Ms. Yates. It is out of my control."

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside. Holding the doors for her, he said, "You can have a different determination granted by a judge, but you and I know that could take awhile…"

Shirin stepped into the elevator. The concentration on her face could easily have been translated into anger, but her mind raced for answers. The federal agents must have been sent by Zelig, which meant they weren't really federal agents. She had to do something, and fast.

15:51:37

Dressed in a full constable uniform, hat included, Smith positioned himself outside the police station. The dead owner of the uniform lay concealed in the trunk of his car.

The courtyard leading to the government building was wide and spread out. Benches and walkways entertained light pedestrian traffic and spoke volumes of local government's efforts to increase the city's sense of culture and target domestic tourism.

The events at Kitchener Park hadn't helped that plight, Smith thought offhandedly as he continued to survey the area while munching on a bread roll and feeding the odd bird with leftover crumbs. The fake moustache glued to his upper lip itched a little with each bite, but he ignored it and focused on the landscape ahead of him.

He was at the far end of the expansive block. He had seen an attractive woman enter several minutes earlier. Without binoculars, he couldn't be sure, but he felt confident she was Shirin Reyes.

He had seen two agents enter minutes before her. There was no mistaking who they were. They were Zelig's men.

Now he waited for the rest of the team Zelig had deployed. It was a functional plan, tried and tested. Wait for the mark to attempt a rescue, then hit them. If the mark was already inside, wait for them to exit. Either way, it worked.

Gaining a good sense of the layout, Smith quickly determined three possible locations that offered a clear line of sight, quick access, and quick exit.

15:52:14

The elevator arrived on Level B, the entire floor dedicated to the detention, processing and questioning of high-risk individuals. Shirin noted the electronic scanning bar on the inside of the elevator doors and the PIN code panel. Without an ID and code, she knew the lift would not function.

As the doors hissed open, Shirin followed Detective Fairley into the brightly lit, air-conditioned hallway. To her left, the red emergency stairwell door stood out as a beacon of color surrounded by white walls and pale beige floor. She noted the same card detector and keypad beside the emergency door. A discreet security camera perched at the top of the doorframe, she presumed to allow staff to verify and override the security protocols, given a genuine emergency evacuation.

Shirin followed Fairley around the corner of the corridor into a small junction room. The scanning booth and lockers to the side were self-explanatory of the process she would have to undergo. An electronically locked door stood at the end of the machine.

"A recent addition to the precinct," Fairley said, motioning toward the metal detector scanning booth. "If you would, please remove any metal items, anything sharp… I'm sure you've done this before."

"Yes, detective. At airports, rarely at a police station."

"Also, no phones. The officer here will provide you with a locker where you can keep your valuables." Fairley removed the gun and holster from his belt, his phone and keys, and placed them into a locker.

Shirin quickly followed suit and motioned Fairley to pass through the scanner first. She was growing impatient. Barratt was alone with Zelig's federal agents. She didn't have time for this.

"Can we move this along, Detective Fairley? I'd hate to think what your federal agents are doing with my client without legal counsel."

Passing through the metal detector, a green light blinked on. She was clear to proceed. She turned to see the operator push a button at his workstation, and then heard the door ahead of her click open.

She looked at the door as she passed through.

"No handles," Fairley said. "It can only be opened from the outside. In case of an escape."

"And how does the guard know when to open it?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"The security camera above the door."He pointed at the small black dome above the doorway while they walked along the corridor.

Ahead, Shirin could see several doors on her right, and she noted that the far end of the corridor opened up to a wider space with more rooms. What could be beyond that, it was impossible to know.

From what she could see, in the event of an escape attempt, there was nowhere to go.

15:55:03

Outside the police station, Smith brushed the last remnants of bread crumbs from his hands and stood. Stretching naturally, he looked like any other police officer returning to the grind of another afternoon shift.

Two teams had arrived in quick succession, the first in a delivery van, which parked in plain sight opposite a "no standing" zone to the left of the precinct entrance. Smith knew it was the Grab Team. The passenger of the van had quickly exited, walked to the back, and started shifting packages around. The driver remained behind the wheel, engine running. They were ready.

The second team, the Clean Up Team, parked discreetly at the far end of the outdoor courtyard. Positioned to the right of the building, they had a clear view of the wide entrance. They were well positioned to pick off anyone who got past the first team. Two men exited the van, walked to opposite ends of the courtyard and settled into the scenery like chameleons. The driver and the fourth agent remained in the vehicle.

In position, Zelig's men played their parts, and waited.

Smith moved forward. It was time. His heart beat a little happier, his senses sparkled. The hint of a smile crept onto his hard face.

15:55:43

The corridor seemed to stretch farther than she had thought. The first set of doors came up on her right, and Shirin noted the label clearly emblazoned across the door: Interview Room 3. The next door was labeled Monitoring Room 3.

"Your client is in Interview Room 1." Fairley pointed toward the room with his finger. "But as I explained to you, because of security and safety measures, you need to be in the monitoring room. You can see your client via a live video feed, and he can hear you via microphone. That's the best we can do for now. We need to determine who he is and if he is a danger to you or anyone else."

"I understand, detective, it's a grave injustice I will pursue vigorously in due course. But for now, I need to be in that room!" she said sharply, pointing to the Monitoring Room 1 door.

"Very well."

Fairley opened the door and held it open, motioning for Shirin to enter first. She charged in and looked around the small room quickly, orientating herself. She found the monitor with Barratt's image, and then the microphone. There were two other men in the room. She ignored them.

Diving for the microphone button, she pressed it and spoke loudly, forcefully. "John! Don't say another word! This is Kristine Yates, your attorney. Do not say another word until I verify with you. Do you understand?"

Shirin glared into the monitor. She could see Barratt's face and upper body. He was chained to the metal table with cuffs. His face had been cleaned of most of the blood from Dornan's brain, but dried stains marred portions of his hairline.

"Do you understand?" she repeated.

Barratt looked directly into the camera. Slowly, he nodded his head.

Shirin replaced the microphone on the counter with a loud slap. Her eyes were on fire as she turned to face the two men who had been in the room.

"Who authorized the interrogation of my client without his legal counsel present?" she roared.

"Now hold on, ma'am," said the taller man. "My name is Mark Whitman, I'm a federal agent. We were not aware he had legal counsel. He was offered representation on his arrest and declined."

"Gentlemen," Fairley interrupted, "this is Ms. Kristine Yates. She represents our mystery man here." He motioned to the monitor. "Ms. Yates, you have met Agent Whitman." Pointing to the other man Fairley continued, "This is Tim Wilcox. He is our technical officer. As he will attest, this interview has been recorded and will be made available to you in its entirety. I'm sure this has only been a misunderstanding."

Shirin recognized the political dance Fairley was playing. He was smooth and disarming. He had an agenda also, she knew, but so did she.

Looking at Wilcox, Shirin asked, "How long has the interview been going?"

He looked at the recording timestamp on the computer screen."Two minutes. They only just started."

"What has my client said?"

"Nothing, ma'am. Not a word," Agent Whitman offered.

15:59:36

The small speakers fixed to each corner of the interview room crackled to life.

"John, this is Kristine Yates, your legal counsel. I am advising you that you do not need to answer any of the questions these federal agents may ask you. However, in the interest of expediting your release, I would encourage you to cooperate." Shirin's voice over the speaker system was short and clipped. Static on the intercom crackled, then went silent.

Barratt faced the wall. The temperature in the interrogation room had been turned up even higher, and sweat formed on his forehead.

He stared to the right of the camera, averting his eyes from the spotlight glaring uncomfortably in his face. Then, after a moment, Shirin's voice came back on over the speakers.

"Before you answer
any
of their questions, wait for me to approve each and every one first. Do you understand?"

Barratt looked directly into the camera again and nodded. In the background, the federal agent paced back and forth. He looked tense. Something about him didn't seem right.