crossing the street to see why we were stopped. Han sped past him. “Okay,” he said. “Good. We’re beyond the getting-to-know-you stage. The textbooks refer to it as ‘initial posturing.’ It has been established beyond a reasonable doubt that you don’t like SSD. That’s your problem. Can we move on to something else?” This was still his regular voice, but I could tell he didn’t have a chance to use it much, except maybe when he was talking to himself.
“Move on to something else,” I said, “such as?”
“Such as the bank robbery we’re supposed to be investigating.”
“Is that the next stage in the textbook?”
“Inspector”—Han turned into a side street that took us two short blocks from the bank—“I’m not interested in our becoming fast friends. All I want is to see this case file in the out-basket.” He switched off the engine, took off his sunglasses, and pulled a notebook from a side pocket on his door. “Your out-basket had a piece of wood in it, oak I think it was.”
“What sort of oak?” I wasn’t going to give in that easily. Maybe oak was the only tree he knew.
Han leaned back and smiled. “Oak, that’s enough.”
“Fine, we’re back to stage one, getting acquainted.” Han didn’t fit with the normal SSD character. I’d never heard one of them refer to a textbook, or to any book, actually. “If I had to guess”—I stared out the windshield—“I’d guess you aren’t from SSD. The blazer had me fooled, but no one from SSD is so smooth, and none of them know oak from abalone. Who are you really?”
Han didn’t break stride. “Just who your boss said I was. We have been put together to focus resources on a crime the Center wants solved. You have a reputation as a competent investigator.” Curiously, it sounded like a compliment. “I have access to files and equipment you lack. I’ve worked in SSD for almost eight years. Satisfied?”
“No. It’s a sad day, when one ox can’t pull the cart.”
“Let’s leave farm implements out of it for now.” He started thumbing through the notebook. “This woman, Chon, at the bank. Have you seen her file?”
“She doesn’t have a file.”
“Inspector, everyone has a file. I have a file. You have a file.” A faraway look came over his face. “And it’s some file.” He closed his eyes briefly, in a kind of ecstasy I didn’t like. “Anyway, I can have her searched in our records.” He checked his cuffs. “At least we can see if she exists on the computer. She works with foreign currency; most of those people have to fill out special paperwork.”
“Only one problem, we don’t have her full name yet. She hasn’t been formally interviewed.”
“What does that matter? Her name should be cross-filed under the bank’s employees.”
“So, why are we sitting here? Drop me off, and you can go back to your office to check.”
“Go back? I’m going to call in her name from here. It will only take a couple of minutes for the computer run. That way, when we go in, we’ll have something to talk about.” Han took a cell phone fromhis coat pocket, dialed a number, said a few words, then put the phone on the dashboard and slumped down in his seat. “Now we wait.”
A few minutes later, the phone buzzed like a bee. Han pulled it to his ear, nodded his head, then turned it off.
“Impressive,” I said.
“Yes, they move fast.”
“No, I mean that buzzing. How do you get it to do that, instead of playing music?”
Han snorted. “Give me your cell number. I’ll call you so we can see what you have.”
“Not a chance.” I climbed out of the car. Whatever tune was programmed on my phone, Han didn’t need to hear it. “It’s time to go to work.”
“Don’t you want to know what they have on her in the files?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t have anything. I already told you, she doesn’t have a file.”
“How did you know that?” Han looked in the rearview mirror,
“Move on to something else,” I said, “such as?”
“Such as the bank robbery we’re supposed to be investigating.”
“Is that the next stage in the textbook?”
“Inspector”—Han turned into a side street that took us two short blocks from the bank—“I’m not interested in our becoming fast friends. All I want is to see this case file in the out-basket.” He switched off the engine, took off his sunglasses, and pulled a notebook from a side pocket on his door. “Your out-basket had a piece of wood in it, oak I think it was.”
“What sort of oak?” I wasn’t going to give in that easily. Maybe oak was the only tree he knew.
Han leaned back and smiled. “Oak, that’s enough.”
“Fine, we’re back to stage one, getting acquainted.” Han didn’t fit with the normal SSD character. I’d never heard one of them refer to a textbook, or to any book, actually. “If I had to guess”—I stared out the windshield—“I’d guess you aren’t from SSD. The blazer had me fooled, but no one from SSD is so smooth, and none of them know oak from abalone. Who are you really?”
Han didn’t break stride. “Just who your boss said I was. We have been put together to focus resources on a crime the Center wants solved. You have a reputation as a competent investigator.” Curiously, it sounded like a compliment. “I have access to files and equipment you lack. I’ve worked in SSD for almost eight years. Satisfied?”
“No. It’s a sad day, when one ox can’t pull the cart.”
“Let’s leave farm implements out of it for now.” He started thumbing through the notebook. “This woman, Chon, at the bank. Have you seen her file?”
“She doesn’t have a file.”
“Inspector, everyone has a file. I have a file. You have a file.” A faraway look came over his face. “And it’s some file.” He closed his eyes briefly, in a kind of ecstasy I didn’t like. “Anyway, I can have her searched in our records.” He checked his cuffs. “At least we can see if she exists on the computer. She works with foreign currency; most of those people have to fill out special paperwork.”
“Only one problem, we don’t have her full name yet. She hasn’t been formally interviewed.”
“What does that matter? Her name should be cross-filed under the bank’s employees.”
“So, why are we sitting here? Drop me off, and you can go back to your office to check.”
“Go back? I’m going to call in her name from here. It will only take a couple of minutes for the computer run. That way, when we go in, we’ll have something to talk about.” Han took a cell phone fromhis coat pocket, dialed a number, said a few words, then put the phone on the dashboard and slumped down in his seat. “Now we wait.”
A few minutes later, the phone buzzed like a bee. Han pulled it to his ear, nodded his head, then turned it off.
“Impressive,” I said.
“Yes, they move fast.”
“No, I mean that buzzing. How do you get it to do that, instead of playing music?”
Han snorted. “Give me your cell number. I’ll call you so we can see what you have.”
“Not a chance.” I climbed out of the car. Whatever tune was programmed on my phone, Han didn’t need to hear it. “It’s time to go to work.”
“Don’t you want to know what they have on her in the files?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t have anything. I already told you, she doesn’t have a file.”
“How did you know that?” Han looked in the rearview mirror,
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