Smith Investigation Series Box Set 1 (14 page)

BOOK 5:
END GAME

Chapter 1

This was the last time I walked into Smith Investigations. I pushed in the heavy glass door and stepped into the main reception room.

It felt like I wanted to take my time going up. “Maybe I should take the elevator for once,” I thought, but my legs carried me instinctively towards the staircase. I followed the force of habit fueling me up the steps, looking around me with new eyes. I was seeing things that I never noticed before.

There was a star shaped stain near the entrance onto our floor. It made me smile. “Smith Investigation has its own star.” With that thought, I walked into the hallway and approached the shiny door. I was swiping my card for the last time; it felt strange knowing that.

I had decided to pick up the few things I used to keep in my desk, even though I could’ve lived without them. I was certain the real reason behind my visit was that I wanted to say a proper goodbye to the last place I had worked as a PI. It was like the end of an era and I had not yet figured how to feel about it.

A wave of melancholy washed over me as I reached for the paper weight Spike had given me the first week I worked here. I remembered how excited she was about working with me. It was still a mystery to me how could I have been someone’s role model.

“Having doubts, perhaps?” I heard Smith from the door.

“No, Dick. I have no doubt about my resignation. But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel sad for parting with the team.”

“True.” His tone was more bitter than I expected, especially since our relationship has cooled down lately.

As I pulled a paper bag out of my pocket and began filling it with the few knick-knacks that had kept me company here, Smith went to the window and gazed out, looking like he wanted to say something. I gave him the silence he needed; I knew he had to eventually express his feelings regarding my leave.

“I’m really sorry you want to leave Rob. I know we had our differences but, I’m still sorry. We’re friends.” He paused for a couple of long minutes. I was done packing when he spoke again. “I feel like my team is falling apart.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Smith. You’ve just started to get really lucrative jobs. You’re riding the wave of fame and your team is fine. They learned fast, they’re good people.”

“I know, I don’t mean that.” He looked down thoughtfully.

“Then, what do you mean?” I joined him at the window. We weren’t looking at each other, but rather shared the same view we weren’t really seeing.

“I mean we’re barely managing this huge case load and now, with you leaving and Robert MAI, I don’t know what to do.”

“MAI?”

“Oh, he’s on one of his videogame tournaments. I don’t know what he’s up to, I haven’t heard from him in three days.”

“Well, you should’ve asked him to check in.”

“I did.”

“He didn’t strike me as the rebellious type. Has he done this before?”

“What? Go radio silent?” I nodded and he shook his head.

“Have you checked his security account?”

“I don’t think this is that sort of situation. He must’ve gotten sucked into the tournament and forgot to check in. I believe this is a habit of gamers. I have a son, remember?”

I was already checking the app that Robert had built for us. It was sort of a panic button solution in case something happened to one of us. During this past week since I had stopped working for Smith, I had deactivated my app, but I still had it installed.

“What are you doing?” Smith asked.

“Checking.”

“I would’ve been notified if he used the app, Rob.”

I frowned. “You know he has that backdoor into his computers? Do you remember how to get in?”

“Look, Rob, I appreciate your concerns, but you don’t work for the firm anymore.”

“For goodness’ sake, Dick. I won’t bill you for this.”

I touched a key on Robert’s keyboards and all three screens lit up. I was trying to remember how he had showed us to access his forensic features in case he wouldn’t be available but, for the love of God, I couldn't think of anything.

“You need to press a combination of keys,” Smith helped me out.

“You mean at the same time?”

He pressed five keys for me and the computer asked for some credentials. This, I remembered. Robert had made a special account for each of us and I made sure to memorise my information ever since he told me about the feature. My inferiority complex for being a complete technology illiterate might’ve been one reason for my eagerness.

I typed my credentials and we were in.

“Now what?”

We were looking at each other like we had no idea what we were doing. The truth was, we really didn’t have any idea what to do.

“I wonder if we could run a trace on his phone?”

“Sure.”

The trace, which would’ve taken a few hours normally, returned a negative result almost immediately.

“That’s strange. It says that the last time Robert’s phone was online was three days ago,” I read off the screen.

“That’s when he left for his tournament.”

“Where’s this tournament being held?”

“In the city, but I think they have to be in the same place so they can’t cheat or something. Don’t ask, I have no idea.”

“Right. How do we get into his phone, then?”

“That’ll be a question for Robert.”

“I’m going to run an analysis on this computer,” I decided, a vague idea trying to surface in my mind.

“What for?”

“Well, he usually connects his phone with this. I don’t know, I’m not sure. I just need to do something.”

We agreed I should start a full diagnosis with keyword search.

“Let’s get some lunch. If this marvel finds something, it’ll send it on our app,” Smith suggested. I stood up and reached for my blazer, really keen on eating something. Although I never trusted computers, I trusted Robert enough to know that whatever program he had built, it’ll do its job.

We were almost out the door when both our phones started beeping.

“What is it?” we asked in unison.

Robert’s program had managed to find something on his computer.

“These look like threats to me,” Smith said, being better with Robert’s app than me.

“What does?”

“Look here, the analysis found death threats in a conversation he had with someone. MagicX. I think, is their name.”

“Who’s that?” I asked, starting to feel anxious.

“I don’t know, never heard of him. Or her. And the strange thing is that his phone never pinged in the area he is supposed to be.”

“Since it has been turned off?” He nodded, his expression a picture of concern. “I’m calling James,” I decided and dialed detective Bellagio.

* * *

I was starting to lose the battle against impatience; pacing the room, cracking my fingers numberless times, and learning the position of every stain on the windows in Operations were the only things keeping me from crying out my frustration.

The buzz from Reception finally announced Matthews arrival. I hurried to the elevators, ready to rip this guy a new one. When the door slid open, he didn’t as much as gave a passing glance. Earphones attached, bloodshot eyes and tired looking, the gangly man that met me in the hallway didn’t inspire me much confidence. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt; he was, after all, James’ most trusted geek.

He went straight to the door marked “Smith Investigations”, then into Operations. I was amazed that he knew where to go. Not even James knew the layout of this building, much less of our offices, so Matthews must’ve been a genius.

By the time I shook the surprise off and caught up with him, he was already settled at Robert’s desk and was fiddling with some cables.

“So, what’s the deal? What can you do from here?” I asked, uncomfortable with his absentmindedness. I received no reply in return and Smith shrugged when I glanced at him puzzled.

“I tried too. Don’t bother, he’s permanently connected to those earphones.”

“Great.”

We resigned to watching him do his thing. I felt like an awkward spectator with no power to change the outcome of a play and I didn’t like that feeling.

“We need to do something,” I finally said.

Smith nodded, looking uncomfortable himself.

“Oh, shit!” Matthews uttered his first words. His voice somehow matched his ginger appearance, slightly velvety but with a high pitch.

“That’s not good, right?” I asked Smith.

“What is it, Matthews?”

“This guy’s CheckMate! This is dope!”

“Do they come with instructions?” I wondered aloud, confused by how geeks seemed to function differently than regular humans.

“Is that good or bad, Matthews? What’s CheckMate?” Smith insisted, his speech changing as if he was talking to a foreigner with limited English comprehension.

Matthews finally caught sight of Smith's flailing arms.

“What are you doing?” he asked, removing one earphone.

“Trying to talk to you!” replied Smith, almost out of breath.

“Right,” Matthews acknowledged the answer and moved to put his earphone back.

“No! Wait, what’s CheckMate?” Smith wanted to get all the information out of this guy before he isolated himself again.

“Dude, it’s a who.”

“Go on,” I encouraged, starting to lose my patience again.

“Come on, you didn't know?”

“Would you tell us what you know already!” I finally shouted in frustration, which seemed to do the trick.

“Alright, alright. Geez, chill out. CheckMate is Robert.”

“So, what’s that?” Smith insisted, taking over from me to avoid another outburst.

“Seriously? He’s like the best cyber activist out there. He’s the good sort of hacker. He’s a legend. Can you believe this? I’m actually at CheckMate’s station. OMG!”

I rolled my eyes, but then, an idea jumped at me from the murky waters of worrying and concern.

“If what you’re saying is true, then he’d have plenty of enemies. Think about it, Smith. Activists piss a lot of people off.”

“OK, well, while you continue being useless like that, I’m gonna do my thing over here,” Matthews cut Smith off.

“And what is your thing?” Smith asked, annoyed.

“I’ll focus on his cyber activism and finalize this analysis that you’ve started. And, I think I have enough time for that, I’ll look into his phone as well.” His smug expression completed the sentence with “How’s that for a start?”

“Right, I’m going to the police station. James can help us with background checks,” I decided.

“James?” Smith finally inquired.

“Yes, we went on a date and it would’ve been weird to call him detective Bellagio, wouldn’t it?” I said, matter of factly.

“A date? How long have you been gone from Smith Investigations?”

“Five days. Why?”

He looked shocked.

Chapter 2

“I’m pulling everything we have on Robert Whitechapel as we speak,” said James, swiveling with his chair to face me.

“Financial, criminal, juvenile?” I asked, trying to tone my agitation down.

“Yes. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I just want to know what’s up with him.”

Smith looked uncomfortable when James put a comforting hand on the small of my back. What was up with him too?

“What did the tournament guys say?”

I looked down, suddenly realizing what was missing from the current puzzle. The same realization made Smith clear his throat, even more uncomfortable than before.

“Nobody thought to call them, right?” James figured.

“We…”

“It’s alright, Rob. I understand that, with everything going on, you couldn’t have thought of everything.”

Smith seemed to take James’ remark as being directed towards his own inability to make the call. “It’s different to be on the other side of the line,” he said, defensively. “I’ll call them now.”

“I understand. No need, I already have an officer doing just that. Oh, the files are here!”

Forgetting about the dispute, we huddled together behind James’ desk.

“Well, no criminal record. At least not as Robert Whitechapel.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“CheckMate has several warrants for his identification and arrest. But I know nothing about who he is, as it happens.”

“Right, but he’s an activist. Isn’t he supposed to do good things?” was Smith’s turn to ask.

“Hacking is still illegal.”

“Alright, let’s move on,” I said, gesturing to the screen.

“Sure. According to this, he grew up in foster care. No names for his parents, he was found in front of a church.”

“I knew that he has no family,” Smith felt the need to state.

“Financial?” I urged James to move on.

“Right away, Ma’am.” He clicked a few times and whistled in admiration.

“What now?” I couldn’t take any more of these cryptic reactions. Couldn't these police officers skip the artistic presentations and just speak?

“This kid, he’s rich. Like, filthy rich.”

“What are you talking about?” I frowned, picturing Robert’s well-worn sneakers and cheap clothing.

“It says right here. He’s paying taxes for an estate in excess of seven million dollars. This kid. I’m impressed.”

“Are you sure?” I was still in disbelief.

“Where is getting this money from? Could this be a reason for revenge or something?” Smith suggested, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Excuse me, Sir?” A plum young woman in uniform handed James a note.

“Thank you, Carla.” He, then, read the note and shared with us that Robert has, indeed, missed his tournament.

“Right, well, a lot of help that was,” Smith remarked, remembering the animosity he was supposed to have for James.

“It needed to be done. Now, back to Robert’s financials. It says here that all his income has been declared as coming from either winnings or consultancy. I never thought videogames can get you so much money, I’ll be honest here.”

“You mean he made millions from playing games?” Smith voiced the question I was thinking of.

“Around four of them, to be exact. And it all comes from these tournaments. He must be really good.”

“And the consultancy?”

“Different companies, some of them I know work with national security agencies. His services seem to be in the cyber security sector.”

“So, nothing suspicious there?”

“No.”

“OK. Moving on, then.”

“That’s it. We have nothing else on him. I’m going to request his bank records, maybe they'll give us some more information, maybe a last location but, for now, we have nothing else.”

I straightened my back, trying not to let disappointment cloud my judgment. I had already made a newbie mistake. I needed to have my head in the game in order to find Robert.

“What else do we have? I mean, where do we go from here?” Smith asked, leaning against James’ desk.

James shook his head, starting to look helpless himself.

Our silence let the noise of the station penetrate into the conversation. I listened to indistinguishable words and the usual shuffling around us, but couldn’t stand it anymore.

“This is ridiculous. Hasn’t Matthews found anything with that analysis?”

“He hasn’t called yet, Rob.”

“Call him, then.”

I waited for James to dial and took position right by his side.

“Hey, Matthews. Anything on Robert’s computer?” He listened for a second, then asked his guy about the threatening messages we had found. It was good that James was not personally involved, as he was able to think more clearly about this matter. The strange thing was that I had no issue with him taking charge of this search. Even more, I liked it, and the realization made me self-conscious about my feelings.

“Alright, thanks. You keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Well?” I asked the second he hang up.

“Nothing, I’m sorry.”

“This is crazy!” Smith exclaimed in frustration.

“This is getting us nowhere. I mean, it’s to be expected we won't find anything in his cyber whatever. He knows guys that have the ability to cover their tracks, so if someone from CheckMate’s life has something against Robert, we won’t find them anytime soon.”

“So, what? We wait around?” Smith aimed his frustration at me.

“No, you fool. Let’s look into this tournament thing. I mean, there are millions of motives to do something stupid.”

“I agree, that’s a great idea. Let’s give those guys another call,” James spoke before Smith could make another emotional remark. The situation didn’t need any more tension.

* * *

Smith went to brief Spike and the rest of the team, who had just landed from New York, about Robert’s situation, so I ended up going to see the tournament organizers with James. He was driving and I didn’t argue.

“So, what are we looking for?” he asked, pulling the car up in the hotel parking lot.

“We’ll see when we actually talk to them.”

I needed silence and was in no mood to talk. To avoid further questioning, I got out of the car and started for the entrance.

“OK. Is it something I did?”

“What?” I was confused and it annoyed me.

“You’re not talking to me. Is it something I did or are you worried for Robert?”

“That’s a dumb question. Of course I’m worried about Robert.”

That seemed to be enough of an answer for James.

Inside the hotel, I needed a minute to find the reception desk. The layout was all wrong and counterintuitive.

“May I help you?” a young woman asked us, not looking pleased with the prospect of doing her job.

“You’re working in a hotel, for goodness’ sake. What do you think?” I thought, ready to explain to her she had no choice but to help us, but James saw my expression and took over the talking part.

“Yes. We’d like to talk to someone about the videogame tournament. Could you point us in the right direction?”

“Sure. I’ll call for the manager.”

James thanked her and took me to one side to wait.

“Are you sure she knows to call the tournament manager? She doesn’t look too interested in this job.”

“Relax. If she doesn’t call the right guy, whoever comes can tell us who to talk to.”

I wanted to protest about how time wasting his suggestion seemed, when a guy in a business suit approached us.

“Are you the ones interested in the tournament?” he asked us in an effeminate voice.

“Yes. We’re here because one of your players appears to be missing and we were wondering if you could help us with something.” I didn’t want to let James talk anymore. There was no time for pleasantries.

The young man’s expression darkened. “You mean something happened to our Angel of Defeat?”

“I don’t know who that is, we’re looking for Robert Whitechapel.”

“Oh, my God!” he gasped. “That’s the Angel of Defeat, our champion for the past four years. What happened?”

“We don’t know yet, that’s why we're here.” The guy was starting to get on my nerves.

“Oh, sure. Anything I can do, please ask. Oh, God, have you called the police yet? Should I do it?”

“That's not necessary. I’m detective James Bellagio. We’re here on official business already.”

“Oh, my God. Official business!”

“I swear to God, if he says that one more time I’ll smack him,” I told myself, gritting my teeth.

“So, what can you tell us about the Angel of Defeat?”

“He’s awesome. He has won every tournament from the first one he signed up to, and ...”

“Any significant opponents?” I intervened.

“Oh, yes, there were a couple. But, for the last two tournaments he defeated in the finals the same player. To tell you the truth, it must be awful to lose that much money twice.”

“How much are we talking about?” asked James.

“Just over a million. Each prize.”

“Dollars?” I still couldn’t believe something like that was possible.

“Yes. What else?”

I rolled my eyes. “Right. So, what’s his name?”

“Whose?”

“The opponent's. Whose else?”

“Oh, it’s not a he, dear. It’s a girl. MagicX.”

I shot James a glance. I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

“We want to talk to her.”

“You can’t. She’s in a game at the moment.”

“Do I look like a give a damn?”

“I understand your situation,” James started on a reconciliatory tone. “But, like I already said, this is official police business and we need to talk to her. We can come and explain the situation to her, if you’d like.”

“God, no. There are cameras inside. I’ll bring her in a minute.”

“I knew it. She’s done something to him,” I said after the manager left us.

“I don’t think a couple of threatening messages count as proof of anything. Intent, at the most.”

“And that counts for something,” I argued. “Isn’t it enough to get a warrant for her financial information? Maybe we could track her from her purchases, see if she met Robert around the time he disappeared.”

“It’s not enough, Rob, and you know it. Besides, let’s not begin this conversation with preconceived ideas. There’s a strong possibility she has nothing to do with any of it.”

Deep down, I knew he was right, but frustration was greater than logic so I hated him in that moment. I didn’t get the chance to relate to him my feelings as a teenage girl approached us, preceded by the manager of the tournament.

“This is Lilly Davis. If you’d like to take as little time as possible?”

“MagicX. What do you want?”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by her callousness. She seemed unnecessarily offensive.

“I’m detective James Bellagio and this is Robin Walsh, private investigator. We would like to ask you a few questions about Robert Whitechapel or, as you might know him, the Angel of Defeat. Is that alright with you?” James hurried to talk before I got the chance to and I let him. It was better for me to observe. Something was up with her and I wanted to know all about it.

“Whatever. I got nothing to do with that loser. And keep it short, this is the last day of the tournament and I am not losing a million bucks ‘cause of some faggot.”

I made a mental note about her choice of not referring to him by his name, and of the fact that she was talking as if we had accused her of something already.

“He doesn’t look like a loser,” James teased her. “He’s won all the tournaments he ever participated in. Do I detect some animosity?”

“Some what? Besides, winning a game doesn’t make him stop being a loser. If you’re a loser, you just are, that’s it. Are we done?”

“Not quite. What can you tell me about him? I’ve heard you’ve played against him for the last two tournaments, so you two must know each other well.”

“I know nothing about him. I don’t associate with losers. And I can’t tell you anything. I need to go back. So long, sucker.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that nasty attitude, young lady. You sit down here and behave yourself.”

James’ words made her red in the face with anger. I almost expected a hissy fit from her and I appreciated his efforts; he was trying to push all her buttons so I could read her better. We made a great team.

The managed gestured for her to do as she was told. She reluctantly sat down in one of the plush chairs in the reception hall.

“The Angle of Defeat has been missing for the last three days. Do you know anything about that?”

“Nah.”

“I take it you hate this guy.”

“Gee, I wonder where you got that from.”