2007-03-15: Covert Liason


Namir_icon.gif Richard_icon.gif

Summary: While he's taking a stroll through Central Park after his first day back on the job, Namir is approached covertly by Richard once again. Richard inadvertently gives Namir the name of Hua Yan and asks him to run some phone numbers from the cell he stole from Identity. Namir refuses on moral grounds.

Date It Happened: March 15, 2007

Covert Liason

Central Park

After a rocky first day back on the job yesterday and an eventful day today, Namir's decided to go for a bit of a walk in Central Park this evening to blow off some steam and orient himself. He moves down one of the paths at a brisk pace, hands tucked into the pocket of his overcoat, which is buttoned up against the cold. The night is crisp and chill, but clear. The wind is quite active, making noses and cheeks red with its biting current, and the park is mostly empty at around this time of night. Some people walk their dogs off-leash as it is after 9:00PM, so Namir is careful to avoid areas frequented by dog owners.

As a cold breeze rustles through the trees, stirring the branches just recovering from winter's grasp against one another, a watchful eye that holds no iris or lens catches sight of a personage of interest… and from the patch of shadowy grass where it lurks, it moves through subtle paths to dwell within the man's own shadow, unseen, passage unnoticed. At least until the lonesome trail's walk is disturbed by the hollow whisper of voice that he's heard before, "A bit cold for a walk today, isn't it, officer?"

As before, the sudden sound of a voice behind him causes Namir to tense and his step to falter, but he doesn't turn around, recalling the instructions he was given once before. He hesitates before continuing on at his regular pace, hands remaining in his pockets and his eyes staring straight ahead. "Not necessarily," he replies casually. Then, after a brief pause, he adds, "Your information didn't seem to hold much weight as far as the woman in the penthouse at Parkview Estates is concerned." But as for her being /innocent/, well … the Muslim can't really say. Not after the information he discovered yesterday.

"Oh?" A twist of hollow amusement from the voice, which seems to follow steadily behind the man as he walks, "You found it absolutely of no worth, then, officer…? Perhaps I've chosen the wrong man to speak to on this matter…"

"I didn't say it was worthless," Namir utters levelly, "simply that it didn't hold weight. There is nothing to link that woman with anything to do with soma, the Comparelli-Zhukhov Syndicate, or anything of the sort — but we have more leads to look into." He turns up the collar of his coat in a vain attempt to protect his ears from the cold. "Unless you've got something more to offer."

"Hua Yan covers her tracks well, Dayan," the voice observes dryly, "You won't find her so easily… although, given that events are heating up, the opportunity may present itself. You're an astute man - I'm certain you can find a way, if there is one." There's a moment's silence, before it asks curiously, "And did you find anything on this… paper company she was investigating?"

And now he's got a name to go with the drug. Interesting that it's an Oriental name, isn't it? Yes it is. Namir files it away for later, not wishing to withdraw his notepad just yet. He shakes his head. "Nothing beyond the fact that it offers scholarships and runs itself as any other paper company would. I couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, but I didn't focus much of my investigation on it." A raised eyebrow, though the voice probably can't see it. "Why?"

"Curiousity… it seemed odd that a woman like her would be investigating such a group," muses the echoing, nameless voice, still following him evenly as he walks— of course, if he passes by an lamp-post, the location of it will shift somewhat as his shadow does, but perhaps he won't pick up on that. "Still, there's no end of oddities in the news these days, either."

"We live in an odd world," is Namir's offhanded remark. "The news is expected to be odd." He notes that the voice does oddly shift about, however he's not quite made the connection between it and the lamp posts, or rather the light. After all, who expects their shadow to be talking? "Any particular oddities that you've noted?"

"Of course." There's a moment of silence, however, and the voice doesn't seem particularly inclined to elaborate— asking abruptly, then, "I was hoping I could ask you for something in the manner of a favor, Dayan… and perhaps in the future, I could do one for you in return. Nothing— unsavory, I assure you."

Being asked a favor by a mysterious voice that has admitted before that it's not entirely lawful is … well, it's /less/ than reassuring. However, Namir's always been one to hear people out, no matter what. "You know what sort of man I am," he states pointedly, "or at least you should. What is it that you want?" It's not unsavory, the voice said, but he has to be sure.

"I've recently come into the… possession of a cell phone," the voice says, quieter and more serious now, "One that formerly belonged to a woman who is… part of an illicit organization with rather unpleasant intentions towards myself. While I quite understand if you refuse— I'm rather interested in knowing who the numbers on her contact list connect to."

That? That sounds somewhat unsavory. It sounds like a ploy for some personal revenge, and Namir doesn't see how it would be good for him at all if he ran numbers of people who eventually wound up dead or otherwise maimed. He stiffens again, then shakes his head. "What organization, and what do you plan to use the numbers for?"

After a moment, the voice responds in its hollow, dry tone, "I intend to use them to find out the answer to your first question, to be entirely honest, Dayan. There are people and groups out there even more shadowy than _I_ am. If you're worried that I'm going to do something… drastic or noticable, you've little need to worry. I don't care to leave trails, and such things leave very, very large ones…"

"How can I trust you /not/ to do something drastic?" Namir glances sidelong and turns his head slightly as though about to look over his shoulder, but he stops himself before he actually manages to do so. "I can't be a part of someone's personal crusade, and though you have been helpful to me, I would be a fool if I trusted someone I've never seen — someone who flits around like you are doing and apparently steals from others." His tone is not accusing; it's as level and calm as it's been since the conversation started.

A low, echoing chuckle answers that. "True enough," admits the voice, "I never claimed to be anything other than what I am… just a thief in the shadows, nothing more, nothing less." There's a brief pause, before he allows bitterly, "But even I don't deserve to be hunted for no reason. I don't blame you for refusing, however— you're a man of honor, or you wouldn't be the right man to investigate Hua Yan. I'll pursue other avenues to find out what I need to know."

"I wish I could help you," Namir states truthfully. Namir wishes he could help everyone in the whole world, really — but sometimes, that just clashes with his morals. This is one such time. "You can give me the phone and I can run the numbers and investigate myself, but you have to understand that I cannot give you the names I pull up." When did he get into the investigation business? He doesn't know.

"I don't see how it would do me any good getting you tranquilized and dragged off in the middle of the night, or worse, Dayan," the voice replies in dry tones, "I've put you in enough danger as it is… perhaps I'll be able to turn something else up for you. In any case, I've kept you far too long in the cold— I'm certain you'd rather be getting home."

Another small nod from Namir. "If there's anything else I can do— " but it sounds a bit hollow, considering. Not being able to help someone and then offering to help them some other way always sounds hollow, really.

"Just keep up the good work, officer…" The voice fades, as his shadow is abandoned; the presence, unseen, flitting back across the park once more. Of course, it might take him a bit to realize he's alone again.

There's a certain feeling one gets when one has been left alone in a conversation. Namir goes silent a moment, and as the silence continues, his brow furrows. "Sir?" But when he gets no response and glances over his shoulder, he sees nothing. Frowning, he pulls out his notepad and begins to scribble down a few things in Arabic.

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