SUE: Earning Overtime
You’ve been on scene for an hour already, your stress levels are rising, and it’s taken you this long to figure out just one thing: You’re going to be late for your evidence ’cast thanks to Wayne Richardson, Marketing Director and Prize Twat, who sits wittering and wringing his hands on the other side of his desk while you try to figure out how to investigate a crime that was committed by a radge bunch o’ faeries in a place that doesn’t exist. Your smartphone’s nagging you about hitting your transferrable overtime limit, and you’ve already blown your quota for time off in lieu this month; if this goes on you’re gonnae have to put it on unpaid hours and file for a time credit from Human Resources. It’s even threatening to snitch to the Occupational Health Department that your Work/Life Balance is out of kilter: If this goes on, it’ll be off to the compulsory Yoga and Aromatherapy classes with Stress Management for you. Inspector Mac will gently chide you in that calm and measured tone of voice that’s fifty times worse than being screamed at by a tanked-up ned: politely enquiring why you didn’t talk the idiot into going straight to SOCA instead of dropping his pants on your desk (and Mac’s by proxy). And speaking of neds, that’s exactly what there’s going to be one more of back on the streets if the sheriff fails to see your testimony in their browser when they come to that case.
Congratulations. You’ve got the investigation from hell to add to your desk load: one that’s probably going to run and run for weeks and months, suck in scarce resources from all over, and likely as not will never deliver a clean-up because the festering cunts who go in for high-order stock scams and use botnets in Pakistan can also afford silver-tongued barristers. So your clean-up metric is about to take a nose-dive in the shitter, and all because Wayne Richardson, Marketing Director, panicked and phoned 211 instead of listening to his boss and emailing his company lawyers.
Things are just about coming together in an investigatory sort of way. You’ve borrowed the MD’s office, and they’ve hooked you up with access outwith the corporate DMZ so you can talk to the station again. Along with the formal caution, you tipped them the nod that they’ll get their shinies back after the ICE take a gander at them, which may take some time, so they should kick back and relax. With any luck, that should stop them from getting all upset while the Information Crime Executive play with their toys. (You wouldn’t bother except they’re Victims, and Victims of Class at that, and the Victim’s Charter Ombudsman can have your guts for downpipes if you piss them off: So don’t do that, alright?) You’ve called the said scene-of-crime boys and told them to get their arses down here, and you’ve uploaded that first barking boardroom scene up to the station server, and you’ve tasked Bob with getting statements, fingerprints, and DNA swabs from the other witnesses.
You’re getting ready to take a deposition from Wayne Richardson, Prize Twat, and you’re beginning to feel like it’s all under control, when your phone rings. It’s on voice-only and with a sinking feeling you see it’s the skipper. “I ken I’m late, sir, but there’s nothing to be done about it, this one’s doing my head in. If you’ve been following it…?”
“Aye well, I have that, Sue.” Mac sounds unnaturally phlegmatic about the whole business. “It’s not your fault you’re running late. How many statements have you got lined up?”
You take a deep breath. “There’s eight o’ them in the shop, and another who works from home. They’re trying to call him in but he isna answering his phone or IM. There was no signal down here ’til I got them to give me a line, so I went manual at first. I’ve sent you the boardroom shoot, that’s our formal complaint. I was about to have a talk with Mr. Richardson from Marketing, to get the statements going. The alleged crime…I’ve just uploaded a copy o’ their video grab; I figure it speaks for itself. I’ve called ICE in, but they’re swearing blind about how the crime happened on a bunch of mobile phones all over the planet, so I figure we’re just going to have to hope there’s some evidence for them to find when they lift their laptops. Just getting a straight story about what it is these folks do for a living is giving me a migraine. Anyway, even with Bob helping, interviewing this shower is going to take me a couple of days, and I’m not afrit to say, I’m in over my head, sir.”
Which is the honest truth. Collaring neds for breaking and entering is one thing, managing the gay community outreach program and training constables is another, but international cybercrime in a nuclear bunker under Drum Brae is
Inspector McGregor, bless him, isn’t old-school and doesn’t believe in hanging his officers out to dry. “Ach, well, you’ve made a good start simply by hanging in there and taking names.” He pauses for a moment, then his voice deepens slightly, his tone confiding. “I just got word from Division that they’ve had a notification of serious financial crime served by a bunch of solicitors working for a shower called Tiger Investments in London. Meanwhile, a different firm working for Hayek Associates PLC—who would be your mob, I’m thinking—are yammering on the phone about hacking and insider trading, so it looks like the shite’s already hit the fan, and everyone’s lawyering up for a pie fight. Consider yourself lucky the
You breathe a sigh of relief. Detective Inspector Kavanaugh is a high-flyer who’s got her teeth well into the local heavies; let her break her skull on this one. “Aye, that’s doable, sir. But, about the Hastie case—”
“That’s your wee ned, is he not?”
You feel a stab of gratitude that he picked up on it: “The very same, sir.”
“I’ll get on to the Sheriff’s court and try to buy us a week. If they’re not having it, and you’re still tied up I’ll send someone round to record you on-site, but I’m not taking you off the SOC until X Division have got their feet on the ground. Is that alright by you?”
“Aye. Sir.” You breathe another sigh of relief. You’ll probably be late coming off shift, and you’re going to spend a good part of Friday hanging around here—you know
“Bye.” He ends the call, and you open the door. The pacing stops suddenly: Wayne nearly jumps out of his expensively manicured skin as he notices you.
“Mr. Richardson? If I can have a few minutes of your time?” You smile politely, not showing him your teeth.
“Um, I was about to call our US office, fill them in on the picture—”
It’s two hours to shift end and it’s Mary’s night off, which means she’ll be annoyed if you’re not home in time to keep Davey under control when the wee pest gets home from school.
“Uh…” He’s doing the fluttering thing again. “Alright.” He shuffles towards the office as if he thinks you’re going to arrest him. Which isn’t actually on the agenda yet, but…
You point him at the visitor’s chair. “Look. Sit there. Yes, like that.” You put your phone on the desk and aim it at him. “This is a phone, okay, I know it looks clunky an’ old-fashioned, that’s because it’s shielded, ye ken? I want you to look at this camera. Alright, what’s going to happen is this. First, I’m going to officially caution you. This is routine, and it doesn’t mean I’m going to charge you with anything, but a crime has been committed here, and you’re on the scene, so it’s routine to caution everyone. Then I’m going to formally ID you, and we’ll have a little chat, which will be logged under rules of evidence. At the end of this session, I’ll email ye the raw file. About three days later you’ll get a transcript in the email. What you do is you sign it in ink and bring it to the station within seven days, with your ID card, where we take a saliva sample, register it, and it goes into the file as evidence. That’s so it can be brought up in court.”
He frowns, looking worried.
“What?”
“What if, uh, what if the transcript’s wrong? Or something?”
You can’t help yourself: You snort. “The transcribers can be pish, sometimes, I’ll give ye that, it’s what you get when you farm out half the office jobs to Lagos and the other half to a buggy AI, but you’re allowed to correct it before you sign it. It’s
