3
IN JANICE DENARD'S OFFICE, COMPUTER WHIZ TOMAS NUNEZ sat at the desk while the assistant herself and Catherine Willows occupied two chairs against the wall. Nick Stokes hovered just behind Nunez, who was on his cell phone.
'Round up the whole crew,' Nunez said into the phone. 'Yeah, Webster and Wolf too-everybody but Bill Gates. This is gonna be a big one, my brother. Lemme tell when you get here-time is precious.'
Listening again, Nunez spun toward Nick and seemed to glower at him, but it was intended for the party on the other end of the line. 'No way!' the computer expert said, his voice louder, edgier. 'That won't do at all. I need you all here an hour ago. Two words: kiddie porn.'
This time the response seemed to please Nunez more and he almost smiled. 'I knew you could make it happen.' He ended the call and grinned up at Nick. 'Cavalry's on the way…. Now, where's that sergeant of yours?'
'O'Riley's in the lobby with Mr. Newcombe,' Catherine said.
A few minutes ago, the detective and Ian Newcombe had gone out to the lobby so the agency's co-owner could do his best to explain the situation to his staff. Janice Denard had stayed behind, and still seemed shaken. Catherine reached over and patted the woman's hand.
'I know you feel invaded,' Catherine said. 'Even violated. But that's part of what this is about-someone who violated this agency's trust. Someone working in this building who used your company's computers to do something that doesn't have anything to do with advertising.'
'I know,' Denard said, but the words didn't exactly ring with cognizance.
Of all the CSIs he might have been teamed with on this call, Nick was relieved, even glad, to have Catherine Willows at his side. When it came to crimes against children, Catherine had a definite mean streak…as did most cops, truth be told…but with her daughter Lindsey on her mind Catherine would, Nick knew, give every ounce of her skills, talent and energy to get a conviction on this one.
As would Nick.
The abuse Nick Stokes had suffered as a child was something he had dealt with. He knew the experience had played a role in his choosing law enforcement as a career; he knew, too, that he had a craving, even a need for justice exceeding the norm. Nonetheless, he prided himself on his professionalism and tried not to carry any remnants of the victim-getting-even syndrome into his work.
He was well aware, and in certain moments even relished, the opinion shared among many of his co-workers that, for all his sunny disposition, he was hardnosed and a workaholic; he knew, if they didn't, that he also strove to be fair and objective.
Still, there could be no question that his history made these cases more personal to him than the average crime, that such a case increased his thirst for justice to the level of crusade. That whoever was behind these wretched photos would not be allowed to walk. No way.
'What's next?' Nick asked. 'I've never worked anything of this magnitude with computers.'
'Oh, you're gonna love it,' Nunez said dryly, and ran a hand over his face. He was half-standing, half-sitting on the edge of the desk. Then, after considering Nick's question for a few moments, he glanced over at Denard and gave her a quick smile that to Nick was not terribly convincing. Rather contrived, in fact.
'Despite what we've told your boss,' Nunez said to the woman, 'we'll do our level best to try not to shut down your business any longer than is absolutely necessary-that's why, just now, I called in all the troops. The more hands I have available to me, the better off you folks will be.'
'Thank you for that,' Denard said, earnestly.
'So,' Nunez sighed, continuing, 'the first thing we'll do is load all this stuff up, get it back to the lab and, fast as we can, start imaging it.'
Denard frowned. 'Imaging?'
'That's computer-nerd-speak for copying,' Nunez explained. 'We'll copy all the hard drives and all the media in the building-floppies, CDs, DVDs, zip disks, everything. You use tape backup?'
'Yes.'
'We'll need that too.'
'You're…you're stripping us bare.'
This choice of phrase seemed at once apt and ill-chosen to Nick.
'Yes we are, ma'am,' Nunez said. 'We'll get all of that stuff imaged, soon as we can, and then we'll give you copies too, so you can get your business up and running again.'
'How can we do that without computers?'
'You may have to rent or lease some, for what should be a matter of days. That's strictly a business decision for you people to make.'
'I'm not the boss of this place!'
'Nor am I. But I am the boss of the computers and all media 'of this place.' That's my job, and it's the law. No offense is meant, and I certainly don't relish causing a hardship to your business. Do you understand?'
The color seemed to have drained from Denard's face and Nick wondered if she was about to faint. 'You'll give us copies…. What about the originals?'
Nunez folded his arms. 'Those will be locked up in the police evidence room until this matter is resolved. When I start searching your equipment for the source of the illegal material,
Denard was shaking her head now, disconsolate again, much as they had found her when they first arrived. Catherine tried a few more soothing words, but she didn't have much luck with the woman, and soon gave it up.
'Oh-kay,' Nunez said, standing, turning his gaze from Denard to Nick. He clapped, once. 'Let's start getting this equipment loaded up-the truck here yet?'
'I'll check,' Nick said, moving toward the office door.
He wove through the maze of cubicles, making his way past the conference room to enter the long corridor that led back to the lobby; funny-the floor had been deserted when they'd entered, then was filled with workers starting their day, and now, not long after, was deserted again. Something eerie about it. It was as if the CSIs had the power to…
But Nick stopped the thought cold.
It wasn't the CSIs who had the power to stop the world, or even the police in general-it was crime. Criminals. The job of the police, and the CSIs, was to see to it that its reign was a brief one….
Barely halfway down the hall, he could hear Ian Newcombe's voice carrying from the lobby, where the ad agency partner continued to address his personnel.
'I know it's irritating,' he was saying, 'and frustrating, but these police and crime scene people have a job to do, and we have to let them…and do anything we can to assist them.'
'Are we in any danger?' a woman asked, toward the front.
'Physical danger? No. Not at all.'
'Mr. Newcombe, may I ask a question?' a very professional-looking woman in front asked.
'Certainly,' the executive said.
'Are we still getting paid?'
A tiny amount of nervous laughter rippled, but the faces were mostly grave.
'Yes,' Newcombe said, and the wave of relief was palpable…and short-lived. Because the exec went on to say: 'At least for the time being. We don't know how long this is going to go on…how long the authorities will take with this matter. Our computers are being seized. All of our software.'
A ripple of discontent replaced the relief.
Newcombe raised a hand and silenced it. 'We don't know the ramifications yet, but for now-for the short- term, yes. And please understand, it's to my selfish personal benefit to keep the best team in Vegas advertising on the payroll.'
Relief again. Nick did not envy these employees their emotional roller coaster.
'We'll let you know when we're up and running again,' Newcombe said, blandly summing up. He turned to
