Sophie let the locksmith in. The alarm company operative was already outside her unit, up on a ladder, installing a surveillance cam in the ceiling outside the door.
She had run backgrounds on the companies and the employees, including calling in separately to check that the person who showed up at her door was really the one who’d been sent by the company, verifying with signatures, IDs and photos.
“Can’t be too careful these days,” she said to the locksmith, a grizzled Portuguese man who knit his brows in annoyance at her verification process. “I’ve had security problems.”
“No wonder, pretty girl like you.” The locksmith displayed a mouthful of tobacco stained teeth.
If only it were that simple.
She kept an eye on them through the open door of her bedroom as she called Ellie Smith.
“Special Agent Ellie Smith.” The Secret Service agent answered on the second ring. Her voice was brisk but warm.
“This is Special Agent Sophie Ang, Ambassador Francis Smithson’s daughter,” Sophie said. “I’m calling to alert you to a recent security breach at our residence in Honolulu, since the Ambassador is visiting in another week.”
“Thank you for advising me, Agent Ang. Yes, I’m aware of his trip and your position. What can you tell me about the breach?”
Sophie filled her in on the basic details: that her investigation into Security Solutions had led to a trace back finding the location of her computers. She outlined the steps she was taking to rectify the damage.
“Seems like work and home should be separate locations,” Smith said mildly. “Especially given your father’s sensitive position. And yours, too.”
“I assumed too much,” Sophie found herself admitting. “I’m taking every precaution now.”
“Well, we’ll need to monitor the situation. Maybe there’s something we can do here.”
“I’m not sure what that would be, but I’ll keep you apprised.” Sophie dragged and dropped the info of her alarm company, building, and Security Solutions via secure cloud site for the other agent to access.
“We’ll be in touch before your father’s visit.” Ellie Smith hung up.
Sophie was relieved not to be solely responsible for her father’s safety when he arrived. She turned her attention back to DAVID’s caches. The file on Sheldon Hamilton was not getting any bigger since he’d started the company with his then partner, Todd Remarkian.
She had more luck with the cross check on Assan and Alika’s shared interests. Assan’s company used the same shipping outfit that Alika used, and the same storage facilities here in Honolulu.
That could be nothing, or it could be something.
She needed to find more on Assan. If that led to finding more on Alika, it was better to know now than later.
After she’d been briefed on her enhanced alarm features and the extra front door deadbolt “rated to withstand 2000 pounds of pressure” and the security services left, she sat down, put on her headphones, and called Marcus Kamuela.
He answered on the third ring. “I’m off duty, at home with Marcella. This better be good.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. But I ran a cross check on Alika’s business contacts and the ones of a suspected drug shipper, and I came up with a couple of mutual contacts. Might be worth a drop by search with dogs.”
A short silence. “Don’t recall asking you to work this case. In fact, I recall that you were specifically excluded. And what’s this cross check program? Not that rogue software, was it?”
Sophie chewed her lip. “Boils on the devil’s backside,” she muttered.
“What was that?”
“Just a little Thai. I’m keeping in practice. Can you put Marcella on?”
“No.” Marcus was no softie, and that bite she’d come to know was in his voice. “If you recall, this is my case. The FBI is just providing support as appropriate. And this doesn’t seem appropriate.”
“I’m sorry.” She realized that made two apologies so she restrained herself from a third. “I just thought you might like to check out this lead. It could be something, expose a part of the smuggling ring.”
“I need probable cause,” Kamuela said.
“I can’t help you with that part.”
“Okay then. Lay it on me.”
She told him the company names, addresses. “There’s one for shipping, one for storage.”
“Who’s this known drug dealer?”
This was where it got really challenging, because she didn’t actually know Assan was smuggling. Maybe she should go to the docks and search herself.
“You know what? Never mind,” she said. “Forget I called.”
“No. Spill. Tell me who.”
“No, I’ll just go check it out myself.”
“Just tell me, for God’s sake.”
“Assan Ang.”
A long pause. “Relative?”
“My ex.”
“Oh. Crap.” Marcus’s voice held a combination of sympathy and chagrin.
Sophie swallowed, and finally spoke. “The thing is, I don’t know for sure he’s smuggling. But I strongly suspect it. He had unsavory characters over to our place in Hong Kong all the time, and really too much money for just a medium sized import-export business. I wonder if there’s any way to go…you know, just look around?” She bit her lip.
Another long pause. “You mean an illegal search?”
“I bet you could come up with a legitimate reason to be on the docks, with Alika’s case and all. And if you find anything, you could call in a raid.”
“This is pretty thin.”
Sophie heard Marcella’s voice in the background. “Let me talk to her.”
“No. She called me.” Marcus had a note of satisfaction in his voice. “Sophie, at least, knows who’s in charge here.” Sophie heard a smacking sound and knew that Marcella had slapped the big detective’s shoulder.
“Assan needs to be stopped.” Sophie was in no mood for joking around. “He’s an abusive sadist and likely a drug wholesaler.”
“Well, I’ll take all this under advisement and get back to you. Now, here’s Marcella.” He handed the phone over to Marcella.
“Girlfriend. What shit pot are you stirring now with that program of yours?”
“I think this is a real lead.” Sophie repeated the crossover information. “Just promise you’ll take me if you guys go investigate.”
“I’ll promise no such thing. Your presence could taint any case we might have, involved as you are with both the suspects,” Marcella said.
“Please. I don’t need to be anywhere around when you make arrests.”
“Marcus is on the phone right now with the vice task force that has the K-9 drug dogs. Wait, and we’ll call you back.”
Sophie hung up and, too nervous to settle, dressed in her FBI clothes and athletic shoes. Putting the second part of her idea into motion, she took out one of the surveillance cameras and turned it on by depressing a tiny button on the back. She pointed the camera at her face.
“This is Special Agent Sophie Ang. You violated my privacy by planting surveillance equipment in my apartment. I suspect you’re involved with Security Solutions and I want to speak with you. I’m going to give you a secure encrypted email address. Send me a link to a chat room of your choice and a time to be there, and let’s talk. I respect your abilities.” She gave a flirty smile, batted her eyes—but not too much, it couldn’t be overplayed. “It’s not often I’m outmaneuvered at my own game. No risk to you, just a chat. You pick the location. Here’s my secure email.” She rattled off the email address. “Hope I hear from you.”
She turned the camera off, with a feeling like she’d just pointed a radio signal at outer space with little hope that an answer would come back.
She was stowing the evidence-bagged cameras in her small safe when her phone rang.
“We’re going down to the docks with dogs,” Marcus Kamuela said. “Meet us at Pier 28. Wear Kevlar and a helmet if you have one, so no one recognizes you. And you owe me. Big time.”
“I owe you. Yes.” Her heart gave a welcome bump of excitement and dread. “That’s fine. I’ll see you there.”