The Adelle DeWitt Affair (2/2)
Title: The Adelle DeWitt Affair
Genre: Television
Series: Dollhouse
Characters: Adelle DeWitt, Laurence Dominic, various
Spoilers: N/A, alternate universe
Rating: PG-13 (language, sexual content)
Summary: She's rich, successful, and beautiful; she's also involved in the biggest digital bank heist in history. He's clever, determined, and charming, and he's going to get the money back by any means necessary.
Author's Note: Inspired by The Thomas Crown Affair, both the 1968 and the 1999 versions. One of my favorite movies, I couldn't resist trying my hand at a remake of my own.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't even own parts of this dialogue. It's called paraphrasing, bitches.
Part One
_____
“Two days and two nights in Hawaii, on the job, and you have nothing to show for it?”
“You don't appreciate my tan?” Dominic questioned, sparing only a glance for the frustrated detective that glared down at him from across the table.
“Would you like to know where she was the night before you left? Or perhaps even the night you returned? Hell, how about last night? Aren't you curious?” Dominic could tell Tsetsang was amused by something, and getting to know the detective these past weeks told him instinctively it would somehow be at his detriment.
“Not really,” he replied, refusing to take the bait. He turned his attention back to the papers before him, studying the account transactions and trying fruitlessly to find a pattern where even the computers could find none.
“Okay, suit yourself,” she idly fanned herself with the folder in hand, her smile mild as she slowly turned to leave. A single photograph slipped from its manila holder, and settled on the table mere feet from him. Adelle's face stared up at him in black and white, taunting him with the secrets he knew she still kept from him.
“Detective,” his voice was rougher than usual but it was his only concession to the emotions stirring in his chest. He gestured for her to hand over the file, and he glared when she deliberately took her time walking around the table until she hovered over his shoulder as he spread the photographs across the table beneath him. The small writing on the corner labeled them all as being taken late at night, and they varied in location from the street to the interior of an apartment he didn't recognize. He knew the subject with her, recognized him from the black and white ball where he'd cut in on their dance.
“His name is Topher Grace. Graduated from M.I.T. at thirteen with dual degrees in computer architecture and cryptography. Brilliant man, I.Q. in the 200s; they've been friends for years.”
She was smiling in the pictures, her arm interlinked with the man's as they walked down the street. The two were clearly close, but it was the pictures of them entering his apartment that seemed the most damning. Dominic wanted to feel nothing upon seeing them, and though he felt capable of keeping the emotion from his face, his heart swelled with jealousy. That was his smile and his laugh that she shared so freely; her hand interlinked with this stranger's where such intimacy he felt sure she reserved for him. Where was her cool demeanor and distance in these photos? If the boy was such a good friend why had she never mentioned him to her?
“I never took Ms. DeWitt for a cougar, but one does wonder just what she's wearing under that trench coat. We're in the middle of a heat wave, Mr. Dominic, and that's what we in the police force call suspicious behavior.”
“She's a conservative woman,” Dominic replied, forcing his hands to be steady as he gathered the photographs together and returned them to the folder. He handed it to the detective and refused to give her the satisfaction of reaction. “Any other new information you'd like to discuss, Detective?” He refused to look at her as he gathered his things, waiting until his copies of new paperwork and findings were within his briefcase and his coat on his arm before he actually turned to the woman.
Tsetsang wasn't amused anymore Dominic was grateful to see, but he disliked the pity on her face even more than he disliked her attempts to tease him. “Still just a job, Mr. Dominic?”
He didn't bother to acknowledge the question. “I'll contact you if I make any more progress, or come across information you might conceivably use.”
______
“How would you feel about Labor Day in Napa? An old colleague of mine, Mr. Langton, has invited me to an event he's holding in his home there to benefit Alzheimer's.”
They were less than a foot a part from each other, but emotionally it was practically the Mojave Desert. The car ride was smooth, the air conditioner kept the relentless summer at bay but the cold shoulder he'd been giving her all night could've done that alone.
“This weekend? That's soon,” he replied quietly, never taking his gaze from landscape that blurred just outside the car window.
“I sense hesitation,” she observed, reaching over just enough that their fingers brushed where their hands rested on the leather seats. “Do you find my company monotonous?”
He smiled but Adelle could see small signs of strain on his face when he shifted to face her. “No. Why would I be bored by you? I don't require a little variety.”
He was angry, she realized, and contrary to the times before this was a cold anger that seethed just under the surface and whispered of dangerous things. It whispered to her that he was capable of dangerous things. He was still her Mr. Dominic, though, and she was unafraid. “You're speaking of Topher?” She questioned, and as with most of the questions they asked each other they both already knew the answer. She smiled and shook her head vaguely. “They photographed me with Topher. I thought they might.”
His chin was clenched so tightly that the muscles of his neck stood out, and he turned from her, again refusing to look her in the face as he spoke. “That's your prerogative.”
“I let it happen, Laurence. Do you want to know why?”
“No. I don't want-”
“Let me tell you why-”
“I don't want to know why, Adelle,” he said fiercely, his entire body stiff as if he could steel himself against the conversation she desperately wanted to have and he seemed insistent on avoiding. He reached for the intercom, opening the channel to the driver with the push of a button. “Paul, you can let me out on the next corner.”
“Keep driving, Paul,” Adelle ordered, grasping Dominic's forearm as she turned her attention to him. “Talk to me, Laurence. Let me-”
“Let me out now,” he ignored her, barely waiting for the vehicle to come to a full stop before pushing the door open and escaping the car. He was so clearly upset that normally she'd give him time and the space he wanted, but tonight she couldn't risk it. She needed to make him understand, needed him to look at her in the same manner he had before, in what she'd always assumed was love even if neither of them would ever name it.
She left the car and went after him, her flats allowing her to easily eat up the little distance he'd made between them already. “Ask me why. You're upset by the photographs, so ask me why.”
“I'm upset because you wanted me to be upset. Well played, Ms. DeWitt,” he retorted, spinning around and confronting her face to face.
“I needed you to be upset,” she admitted, her hands raising as if to touch him before she thought better of it.
“So you're sadistic? I'm not surprised.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I needed to know?”
“Know what?”
“Needed to know if all it was to you was the money. Was it the only reason you were with me?”
His snappy retort died on his tongue and he glanced away as she again stripped him of all his defenses with just a few words. “And what about you?”
“I can leave here tomorrow, Laurence. And so can you.”
“We'd be fugitives,” he pointed out, stepping forward and grasping her waist to pull her closer.
“Fugitives with means,” she replied with a smile, pressing a kiss to the small cleft in his chin.
“I don't know if I can. I just-” he sighed and placed an answering kiss against her temple. “I don't think I can.”
_____
He'd been sitting alone in Detective Tsetsang's office for several hours before the morning shift began to wander in to get ready for the a.m. patrols. They walked past the open door but didn't enter or attempt to make polite conversation, granting him an illusion of solitude he appreciated. He studied the pictures tacked up, skimmed and organized the papers that littered the tabletop, finally settling down to wait for Detective Tsetsang to arrive. The information had been right in front of their faces for weeks, almost from the very beginning, and Dominic could admit to himself that both he and Detective Tsetsang had let his relationship with Adelle distract them. It was most likely what she'd intended all along, but he was back on the right track again and knew now it was only a matter of time before the loose ends tied themselves.
“You're here early.”
Tsetsang offered him a styrofoam cup of coffee so hot it still steamed even in the eighty degree air of the station and he accepted it with a grateful nod. “He went to M.I.T., graduated with double degrees, both in computer technology.”
“If you're here to have girl talk about your fling with the suspect, I don't want to hear it.”
“His consulting business takes in millions a year, he has over fifty programs patented, half of which are exclusively contracted to Rossum Corp. In the weeks before the theft, he and Ms. DeWitt had an increase in email and phone traffic of 53%. My team can't tell what was being said, but the increase is suspicious. Tack onto that the misdemeanor charges of hacking during his post-graduate studies at the California Institute of Technology, where Ms. DeWitt sponsors a scholarship,” he paused for dramatic effect, pulling a surveillance shot from the neat pile in front of him and pushing it across the table towards the detective, “which he won and was how he met Ms. DeWitt and they became friendly. She loaned him the capital to start his company, and there have been various business and personal connections over the years since then.”
Tsetsang set aside her coffee and picked up the photo, studying the face of the younger blond man with new eyes. “You think he's connected.”
“I think he wrote the program that she used,” he corrected.
“By now there's no evidence left, he'll have cleaned everything. We have no way to prove it.”
“Actually,” Dominic smiled at he grimly, “that's not entirely true. The bank had a closed network, and several weeks before the theft they underwent a security software upgrade. For the program to bypass the firewalls I'm told Mr. Grace would have needed direct access to a computer terminal somewhere in the building sometime after that. I believe that if we go back through the security footage, we'll have him on camera.”
“How long does the bank hold onto their camera footage?”
“Two weeks, but the LAPD confiscated everything they had at the beginning of the investigation.” Dominic shrugged. “If he's on there, it'll be there.”
He was, and the warrant to search the man's home and office was granted by a judge with very little pushing on the district attorney's part. Dominic didn't join Detective Tsetsang or her team as they searched the buildings; he directed his driver to take him to Adelle's and refused to think of what it might do to the investigation for him to go to her even as the police were building the case against her ever stronger.
The first thing he saw when he walked in the door were the suitcases at the bottom of the stairs. Instantly he felt it, the finality of the coming moments. There was a static void of sound in his head as he calmly walked up the stairs to the second floor, stopping in the doorway to watch her move through her bedroom, calmly directing her house-woman in the removal of her belongings from the closet and dresser and into more luggage even as she carried on a conversation on her phone.
“Topher, darling, breathe. Mr. Ambrose is already on his way, and he's an absolute beast. He'll have these warrants tossed out within the hour. In the meantime, your flight is in three hours. Understandably packing is out of the question while they search, but please tell me you have your passport on your person.” He knew the instant she saw him, though she continued to sift through the drawers of her vanity as if his reflection's appearance didn't surprise her. She met his eyes in the mirror, curved her lips in greeting, but continued her conversation nonetheless. “That's good, Topher. Have they searched the kitchen? Completely? Then go raid your drawer of inappropriate starches and have a snack. It's a long flight and you know you get cranky without regular snacks. They only allow small bags of peanut on commercial flights these days and that just will not sustain you.” She muttered a few more sentences into the phone, but nothing of consequence. Dominic remained frozen in the doorway as she finished the call, waited until she set the small hand-held aside and turned to him before he spoke.
“You're leaving.”
“I've finally grown weary of the heat, Mr. Dominic. I felt a sojourn to Europe was in order. You're more than welcome to join me, of course, though usually when I suggest we take a trip together you react badly.” She smiled at him, nodded a dismissal at her helper and waited until they were alone before speaking again. “Perhaps I should change my approach altogether. When I simply arrange things and you're forced to go along things seem to end well.”
“You're running,” he ignored the rest of her statement, didn't want to think of the implications and instead focused on the reason he was here.
“My plane leaves the tarmac in six hours, Laurence,” she answered quietly, moving across the room and sitting herself on the edge of her bed with a small sigh. “There is room on the flight for you. I could even have them stock your favorite vermouth, should you require liquid courage.”
“Don't ask me to compromise the investigation. I can't,” he replied. The list of things he couldn't do, things he wouldn't do, seemed to grow longer and more conflicted with the passing of each minute. He couldn't feasibly see himself boarding her private jet and leaving his entire life and career behind, he couldn't even see himself taking another step into the room.
“I'm not asking you to do anything against your principles. We're both just going to have to do what we have to do, Mr. Dominic. It's as simple as that.” She stood on unsteady legs, Dominic noticed her subtle shifting stance as she forcibly straightened her body on too high heels. The steps towards him were stronger, each more so, and when she stood mere inches away she smiled at him. “Burbank Airport, five o'clock. I leave with or without you.”
_____
Dominic was sitting in Tsetsang's office when she and her team returned from the raid on Mr. Grace's home and office. He could tell by the look on her face that they'd found something but he couldn't find the will to be overly curious about what. Just over the desk the cheap clock ticked obnoxiously and he couldn't resist throwing it a small glare.
“We found a flash drive that looks pretty damn alike to the one he had on the footage. It's been wiped, but the analysts say they might be able to find a ghost in the registry for what was on there,” Tsetsang explained without prompting, pulling a still from the bank footage from a file and handing it to Dominic though she had to realize he'd already seen everything within it. “It's circumstantial, but it's a step.”
Dominic studied the shot he was already familiar with and set it aside to reach for his briefcase. He shuffled the papers within silently for several seconds before removing a small file and setting it on the desk between them. It took only a few seconds for him to find the captured still from the bank footage he was looking for, but he procrastinated for another minute. If he gave this to the detective then it was well and truly over, there would be no going back. He wanted it to be a question of his ethics, of whether or not he could tolerate her morally gray nature when his own honor code was so strict, but it wasn't. He wasn't debating his next move, he was anticipating how much it was going to hurt.
“That flash drive looks to be a mirror of this one,” he noted as he handed the photo to Detective Tsetsang. “That was taken the day of crime, and yes, that is Adelle DeWitt holding it.”
“How long have you had this?”
“Three days. My team processed the surveillance footage faster than your's, they brought that to my attention though I wasn't sure it's significance until just now.” It was a lie and he knew that Tsetsang recognized it for one.
“With this we can probably push through a warrant for DeWitt's home and office.”
“You won't find anything.”
“You don't have the crime scene unit like we do,” Tsetsang argued, “we can find things that aren't there anymore. Fingerprints, impressions, trace fibers.”
“Can't find something that isn't there,” he shot back. “She's leaving, packed up this morning.”
“When were you planning on informing me of this?”
Dominic leaned back, studied the anger on the detective's face, and forced a nonchalant shrug. “Just now.”
“The warrant will take a while, but this is enough to seize her passport. We can keep her in town until we get more evidence,” Tsetsang was practically talking to herself by that point, her hand already reaching for the phone and dialing the district attorney. Dominic didn't say anything, but his gaze tracked to the clock and mentally calculated how long the red tape would most likely last. The knot in his chest told him that they would be there in time to stop Adelle's flight but it would be a close thing.
Tsetsang slammed the phone down and interrupted his brooding, halfway out the door before she realized he wasn't following. “You coming, Mr. Dominic? The district attorney wants me to meet him at the courthouse.”
“Might as well,” he nodded and stood, grabbing the photos on the desk and returning them to his briefcase. “I have nothing better to do.”
_____
“I don't recommend cornering her, Detective,” Dominic asserted from the passenger seat. They sat in the prone vehicle, both studying the airplane being prepped a few hundred feet away. “She won't react well to that.”
“Shall I go up and request her presence at tea, Mr. Dominic?” Her snide tone revealed just what she thought of his suggestion, but Dominic grew increasingly uncomfortable with the way her police officers were handling themselves as they stepped out of the numerous vehicles now parked on the tarmac. Most of them were too eager, their holsters unsnapped like they were about to enter the O.K. Corral, and the rest had the hard eyes of people who'd lost more than a bit of their humanity on the job.
“Do you really need twelve officers to serve a cease-and-desist to a white-collar-criminal?”
“Are you going to be a problem?”
“I thought I already was?”
“After today you can't be involved with the case,” she confirmed, though Dominic had already suspected the district attorney had told her as much in their brief conversation just out of his hearing range. “The D.A. has the backing of the International Finance Corporation on that.”
He could already imagine his bosses were furious, but Dominic couldn't really find it in himself to care. “Tell your men to lock their holsters and fall back. She's not going to be a problem. She's British aristocracy, for God's sake. At the most, she'll smack you and challenge you to a duel.”
Tsetsang smirked but shrugged. “We go by department policy, Dominic, and your judgment is skewed.” She paused before exiting the car, “But I'll have them lock their holsters.”
He watched her team move towards the plane, not allowed to actually join them. In his head the scene played out, Adelle unsurprised and acerbically witty, Tsetsang arrogant and gloating; they'd exchange cutting comments before Adelle's lawyer would step out of the cockpit and introduce himself. They'd relinquish her passport but swear to fight the detainment in court, most likely they'd be capable of having it thrown out. All the evidence against Adelle was circumstantial and only remotely damning; any good lawyer would be able to keep her and Mr. Grace out of prison. He wasn't worried about her going to prison; Dominic's priority had always been to get the money back by whatever means necessary, even if it meant using illegal means himself.
“Mr. Dominic, if you'd join us, please?” Detective Tsetsang called to him from the door to the plane, but Dominic was lost as to why. Her invitation was a violation of protocol given that he'd been dismissed of his privileges regarding the case.
The walk across the long expanse of concrete felt like it took hours, though Dominic knew it was really only minutes. Several of the police officers took up stances at the bottom of the portable stairs and he wasn't encouraged by the empty looks on their faces. Whatever they may have found in there no one looked happy about and suddenly the knot in his stomach twisted cruelly as the possibilities warred in his thoughts.
Tsetsang stood at the open door, her eyes cold and her mouth twisted in a dissatisfied scowl as she waited for him to join her. By the time he reached her side there was a thin layer of sweat on his brow and his own mouth had slipped into frown. “I'm not supposed to be here.”
“I thought you'd like to see this,” Tsetsang offered, stepping aside so he could enter the cabin of the private jet. He hesitated, tried to see some hint of what he was walking into on her face but failed to garner anything. He shrugged and stepped inside, took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the sudden dimness, and moved further into the plane. He didn't see anything out of place; it was pristine and empty, set up more like a comfortable lounge than a commercial airplane. It looked exactly as it had the last time he'd been on it, the exception being that Adelle wasn't on board this time.
As soon as he thought of it he realized that was why Tsetsang had called him over. Adelle wasn't here making her escape as he'd told the detective she would be.
“There's a note with your name on it,” the detective offered, nodding towards the small envelope laying on side table by the window. “Figured I'd let you read it before I hand it over to the crime scene techs. Wear gloves.” Her admonition was accompanied by a pair of latex gloves tossed at him that he caught easily. He slipped them on without complaint and was just reaching for the envelope when Tsetsang's phone chirped loudly into the silent cabin. He didn't spare her a single look as she flipped open the device and stepped out the door to speak in low tones, his attention was entirely on communique bearing his name just in front of him.
She'd used her personal stationary, the paper soft and thick and just slightly cream colored; the ink swirled across the page in deep swathes from pressure and he knew she'd been emotional when writing it if she'd pressed down so hard.
His fingers weren't shaking as he removed the folded letter from within the envelope, but his entire body felt like it was vibrating from tension as he unfolded it. The simple message within burned his retinas, the dark ink dancing shadows behind his eyes. Detective Tsetsang's voice was shrill and angry as it echoed back to his ears, but it was all noise for the little he paid her attention.
I trust you.
She didn't sign her name. It was simple and to the point, succinct to the exclusion of emotion, but Dominic couldn't help but feel the statement was candidly cutting. She'd trusted him and he'd betrayed her. Even worse, it was exactly what she'd expected him to do.
“Throw it in an evidence bag and let's go,” Tsetsang barked from the cabin door, yanking him from his introspection with no ceremony. “They want to see us at the Bank of L.A.”
“You don't want to read it?” Dominic questioned, taking an evidence bag from one of the officers that appeared on the opposite end of the cabin, slipping from the cockpit where they'd been interrogating the pilot.
“I already have,” she replied, shrugging without a hint of remorse. “She's not here, we have no leads on her location, and my boss just told me to get my ass over to the bank. Your presence has been specifically requested so let's go.”
_____
The bank manager invited them into his office as soon as they stepped foot in the building and the door shut behind them with a firm click that had Dominic and Tsetsang exchanging wary glances as they declined to take a seat and instead studied the man before him. He was nervous, his hands shaking and his brow sweating despite the fully cranked air conditioning that blew coldly from a vent above the desk. Behind the manager's desk sat another man and Dominic was surprised to find he recognized him.
He stepped forward to shake the man's hand, smiling professionally though his mind reeled from the consequences of the man's presence. “Hello, Mr. Perrin. May I introduce the detective in charge of the L.A.P.D.'s investigation? This is Detective Tsetsang,” Dominic turned to her and completed the introduction. “Detective, this is Mr. Daniel Perrin, Chief Investigative Officer for the I.F.C.”
“Your boss?” She simplified with a smirk, shaking the man's hand and stepping back with an amused look on her face.
“We prefer the term 'director',” Perrin offered, gesturing for the two of them to seat themselves before the desk. Maybe it was the charm the man exuded so easily, or the sense of power and influence that clung to his expensive suit, but neither declined the offer that time. With just a look from Perrin the manager scurried out of the officer, the trio remained silent until he was gone, and with a small smile Perrin let the silence continue for several seconds before speaking. “We are in a bit of a quandary, Mr. Dominic.”
“I can explain my actions,” Dominic began but Perrin continued speaking as if he hadn't bothered.
“The theft that you and Detective Tsetsang have been investigating for two months never actually occurred.”
Dominic observed the slight blush that rose on Mr. Perrin's neck, the way his eyes immediately shifted from Dominic's eyes to a point between his eyebrows, subtle enough but blatant signs of lying. His first reaction was to demand an explanation, but he knew immediately that the truth wasn't something that was on the menu today. Tsetsang wasn't as clued in, however, and her reaction was overzealous.
“Excuse me? What the hell do you mean it 'never occurred'?”
“During a routine examination of locked sub-accounts we came across discrepancies in the amounts. Nothing large enough to garner federal attention, which requires transfers $5000 and above to be registered, but upon calculation the sum total of the difference was concluded to be the exact amount incorrectly labeled “stolen” several months ago. Our analysts believe a glitch within the software security led to the error,” Perrin explained, retaining his charming but utterly fake smile.
“What kind of glitch causes 100 million to go missing?” Tsetsang asked through clenched teeth. Dominic worried briefly about the look on her face, she was angrier than he'd ever seen her and the way that vein was pulsing in her temple didn't look healthy, but he allowed her to monopolize the conversation. His own concerns would be best addressed in private, away from the prying ears of the L.A.P.D.
“With the increase in digital theft every year our research and development department felt it pertinent to implement subroutines designed to hide large accounts of money from hackers in locked accounts that couldn't be accessed from outside the company. They explained that they seemed to have done a better job than intended, but with the money transferred back to the appropriate accounts the situation has been resolved.”
“I don't believe this,” Tsetsang muttered, pushing herself up and pacing the office restlessly. “I've been working this case for two freakin' months, and you're telling me I was wasting my time? I don't believe it. DeWitt did something. She's involved in this. I don't know how, but she is.”
“You have the appropriate paperwork, Mr. Perrin?” Dominic asked, deliberately calm and placid as he accepted the file Perrin held out to him. He studied the figures and tables within, made a show and studying the words and numbers even as Tsetsang continued to pace behind him. “Everything seems to be in order, Detective. Would you like-”
She snatched the file from his hands and glared at the both of them. “This investigation is not closed. Something happened that day, and I will find out what.”
Perrin and Dominic watched the detective storm out with a determined look on her face but both of them knew that nothing stonewalled an investigation as well as big corporation and it's love of money. If the International Finance Corporation didn't want the matter investigated further then it wouldn't be, and there was nothing Tsetsang could do about it.
Dominic stood and shut the door, locked it for good measure, and turned back to Mr. Perrin. “Locked sub-accounts?”
“The board wants this handled quietly. Your fee will be transferred to your account within the hour,” Perrin replied. “They look forward to having you back in Berlin.”
“If the money was never gone, then I couldn't have retrieved it. Why pay my fee?”
“We'll resolve the problem within the media with a simple solution. You located the funds with the assistance of the L.A.P.D. and were able to transfer them back to the original accounts. You've more than earned your fee, Mr. Dominic.”
“Hush money?” Dominic observed, smirking just a bit as he confronted Perrin across the desk. “Did DeWitt have something to do with this?”
“As far as the board is concerned, this was a large misunderstanding that was played up by the media and police force into a conspiracy that never existed,” Perrin explained, shrugging away Dominic's question. “Ms. DeWitt has been very understanding of the entire matter, and as a show of faith has agreed to allow all of Rossum's financial interests be handled by I.F.C. for the indeterminate future.”
“What about-”
“Your flight leaves in six hours, Mr. Dominic,” Perrin interrupted with a stony look in his eyes. He reached into his suit jacket and removed a small leaflet to hand to Dominic. “Rest assured, this matter has been successfully resolved for all parties.”
It didn't feel like closure, though, and even knowing that his job was technically done didn't make Dominic feel any less irked by the lack of resolution. He knew that he wouldn't get answers, not here, maybe not ever, so he took the airline ticket and nodded slowly. “I'll write up my report on the flight and have it delivered to your office within 24 hours of my arrival.”
“No need to be so prudent, Mr. Dominic. Take a few days to rest, you've worked quite hard on this investigation. We can schedule a meeting later this week and go over your report together,” Perrin explained. Dominic knew the real intention would be to corroborate the stories they would perpetuate on paperwork should anyone come investigating, but it was what he'd expected. This wasn't the first time he'd been involved in a cover-up of the truth regarding financial crime and most likely it wouldn't be the last. Big business was always part behind-the-scenes scheming, part public-relations manipulation, and what little was left could barely be called business ethics. It bothered him on an innate level, but he couldn't say it surprised him anymore. He'd grown accustomed to the calculating nature of working in the finance world, but this was the first time he could truly say he was unsatisfied with his career.
In the few seconds between standing and shaking Perrin's hand and stepping out the office door, Dominic decided it hadn't been worth it. Betraying Adelle, relentlessly pursuing the missing money that was basically a drop in the well of what I.F.C. had at their disposal, sacrificing the little happiness he'd found in years just to do his job only to find that it'd already been done for him? With an ache that echoed from his chest and reverberated behind his eyes, Dominic found himself at a standstill in the empty hall, unsure how to make himself put one foot in front of the other.
He had his fee, had his job, had somehow landed on his feet despite the mess he'd made of the investigation; he was suddenly and irrevocably aware that he stood alone though.
_____
It was a late night flight and everyone on the plane was appropriately somber as they settled in. Dominic stowed his carry-on above his seat and settled himself in for the long flight ahead with a weary sigh. They'd have a layover in New York to refuel before they began the long journey over the Atlantic and he fully intended to sleep most of the travel time away. He'd already requested a travel pillow and light blanket from a flight attendant and had somehow landed the lucky odds of not having a seat mate. He heard the crew going through the motions of sealing off the plane, explaining safety measures to the other passengers, but his mind was miles away.
The jet began to move, slowly drifting towards the runway, and with another sigh Dominic eased his seat back and settled in to try to sleep. His eyes were closed and he was just on the edge of drowsiness when he felt movement beside him, the soft brush of air as someone slipped into the seat next to him. He frowned but didn't stir, hoped that whoever it was would know better than to bother him.
“If we were on my private jet you could've stretched out and been truly comfortable. You're a touch too tall to be comfortable sleeping in business class.”
He could almost tell himself he was imagining her voice, but the soft scent of gardenias that invaded his senses wasn't something he felt his mind capable of duplicating.
“Do you think I'm going to apologize?” Dominic asked without opening his eyes or moving even a centimeter. He was frozen, unwilling to move or risk doing something that would break the fragile connection they'd pushed to the breaking point that day.
“No,” she replied and even with his eyes closed he knew she was smiling. “No, Laurence, I do not expect you to apologize. I trust you, you know. It's odd for me. Unexpected.”
“I told the police you were leaving,” he pointed out, reaching down blindly and pulling the lever to straighten his seat. He blinked slowly at the back of the seat before him; without turning his head he could see her profile, the sleek skirt and gorgeous legs crossed nonchalantly, her right foot bobbing back and forth the only sign of nerves she allowed.
“I knew you would,” she replied, reaching over and laying her hand on his arm. “I trust you to be yourself, Laurence. Works out quite well for me, since I love you.”
She'd never said it before and his head turned towards her before he could stop himself. She looked tired but beautiful, her eyes waiting for a reaction where he wasn't sure how to respond. “I still don't know what to do. You returned the money, my boss is telling me job well done, but I still feel like the other shoe needs to drop.”
“There is no choice anymore, Laurence. It's not the money, your job, or me. I decided I didn't want to be an option,” she explained frankly, her lips curling in a small smile.
Dominic frowned, his throat closing around the words forming there. “So I've lost you anyways.”
Adelle gaped at him, confusion furrowing her brow as she listened to his words. Dominic shifted so her hand slid off of his arm, and sat stoically studying the moving landscape outside the small port window. He expected her to leave then, having driven home the feeling of his loss with words softly spoken in the dim light of the cabin. To his surprise she unlatched her seatbelt, ignoring the sign calling for safety measures before take-off, and slid into his lap, forcing him to face her. “I said I didn't want to be an option. I've decided “requirement” is a better classification for my place in your life, if you'll have me. I figured somewhere between 'air' and 'sustenance' would suit me just fine.”
Her last words were whispered against his lips and with each glancing touch of her lips he felt the chains of his grief and melancholy fall away. His arms circled her waist too tightly and he felt her gasp at the pressure but they were sharing the same breath again and he couldn't think of a place he'd rather be in that moment.
One of the flight attendants appeared on the other side of Adelle's now empty seat, admonishing their disregard for safety measures but neither heard her.
Neither felt like rules really applied to them anyways.
_____
Review, please.
Genre: Television
Series: Dollhouse
Characters: Adelle DeWitt, Laurence Dominic, various
Spoilers: N/A, alternate universe
Rating: PG-13 (language, sexual content)
Summary: She's rich, successful, and beautiful; she's also involved in the biggest digital bank heist in history. He's clever, determined, and charming, and he's going to get the money back by any means necessary.
Author's Note: Inspired by The Thomas Crown Affair, both the 1968 and the 1999 versions. One of my favorite movies, I couldn't resist trying my hand at a remake of my own.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't even own parts of this dialogue. It's called paraphrasing, bitches.
Part One
_____
“Two days and two nights in Hawaii, on the job, and you have nothing to show for it?”
“You don't appreciate my tan?” Dominic questioned, sparing only a glance for the frustrated detective that glared down at him from across the table.
“Would you like to know where she was the night before you left? Or perhaps even the night you returned? Hell, how about last night? Aren't you curious?” Dominic could tell Tsetsang was amused by something, and getting to know the detective these past weeks told him instinctively it would somehow be at his detriment.
“Not really,” he replied, refusing to take the bait. He turned his attention back to the papers before him, studying the account transactions and trying fruitlessly to find a pattern where even the computers could find none.
“Okay, suit yourself,” she idly fanned herself with the folder in hand, her smile mild as she slowly turned to leave. A single photograph slipped from its manila holder, and settled on the table mere feet from him. Adelle's face stared up at him in black and white, taunting him with the secrets he knew she still kept from him.
“Detective,” his voice was rougher than usual but it was his only concession to the emotions stirring in his chest. He gestured for her to hand over the file, and he glared when she deliberately took her time walking around the table until she hovered over his shoulder as he spread the photographs across the table beneath him. The small writing on the corner labeled them all as being taken late at night, and they varied in location from the street to the interior of an apartment he didn't recognize. He knew the subject with her, recognized him from the black and white ball where he'd cut in on their dance.
“His name is Topher Grace. Graduated from M.I.T. at thirteen with dual degrees in computer architecture and cryptography. Brilliant man, I.Q. in the 200s; they've been friends for years.”
She was smiling in the pictures, her arm interlinked with the man's as they walked down the street. The two were clearly close, but it was the pictures of them entering his apartment that seemed the most damning. Dominic wanted to feel nothing upon seeing them, and though he felt capable of keeping the emotion from his face, his heart swelled with jealousy. That was his smile and his laugh that she shared so freely; her hand interlinked with this stranger's where such intimacy he felt sure she reserved for him. Where was her cool demeanor and distance in these photos? If the boy was such a good friend why had she never mentioned him to her?
“I never took Ms. DeWitt for a cougar, but one does wonder just what she's wearing under that trench coat. We're in the middle of a heat wave, Mr. Dominic, and that's what we in the police force call suspicious behavior.”
“She's a conservative woman,” Dominic replied, forcing his hands to be steady as he gathered the photographs together and returned them to the folder. He handed it to the detective and refused to give her the satisfaction of reaction. “Any other new information you'd like to discuss, Detective?” He refused to look at her as he gathered his things, waiting until his copies of new paperwork and findings were within his briefcase and his coat on his arm before he actually turned to the woman.
Tsetsang wasn't amused anymore Dominic was grateful to see, but he disliked the pity on her face even more than he disliked her attempts to tease him. “Still just a job, Mr. Dominic?”
He didn't bother to acknowledge the question. “I'll contact you if I make any more progress, or come across information you might conceivably use.”
______
“How would you feel about Labor Day in Napa? An old colleague of mine, Mr. Langton, has invited me to an event he's holding in his home there to benefit Alzheimer's.”
They were less than a foot a part from each other, but emotionally it was practically the Mojave Desert. The car ride was smooth, the air conditioner kept the relentless summer at bay but the cold shoulder he'd been giving her all night could've done that alone.
“This weekend? That's soon,” he replied quietly, never taking his gaze from landscape that blurred just outside the car window.
“I sense hesitation,” she observed, reaching over just enough that their fingers brushed where their hands rested on the leather seats. “Do you find my company monotonous?”
He smiled but Adelle could see small signs of strain on his face when he shifted to face her. “No. Why would I be bored by you? I don't require a little variety.”
He was angry, she realized, and contrary to the times before this was a cold anger that seethed just under the surface and whispered of dangerous things. It whispered to her that he was capable of dangerous things. He was still her Mr. Dominic, though, and she was unafraid. “You're speaking of Topher?” She questioned, and as with most of the questions they asked each other they both already knew the answer. She smiled and shook her head vaguely. “They photographed me with Topher. I thought they might.”
His chin was clenched so tightly that the muscles of his neck stood out, and he turned from her, again refusing to look her in the face as he spoke. “That's your prerogative.”
“I let it happen, Laurence. Do you want to know why?”
“No. I don't want-”
“Let me tell you why-”
“I don't want to know why, Adelle,” he said fiercely, his entire body stiff as if he could steel himself against the conversation she desperately wanted to have and he seemed insistent on avoiding. He reached for the intercom, opening the channel to the driver with the push of a button. “Paul, you can let me out on the next corner.”
“Keep driving, Paul,” Adelle ordered, grasping Dominic's forearm as she turned her attention to him. “Talk to me, Laurence. Let me-”
“Let me out now,” he ignored her, barely waiting for the vehicle to come to a full stop before pushing the door open and escaping the car. He was so clearly upset that normally she'd give him time and the space he wanted, but tonight she couldn't risk it. She needed to make him understand, needed him to look at her in the same manner he had before, in what she'd always assumed was love even if neither of them would ever name it.
She left the car and went after him, her flats allowing her to easily eat up the little distance he'd made between them already. “Ask me why. You're upset by the photographs, so ask me why.”
“I'm upset because you wanted me to be upset. Well played, Ms. DeWitt,” he retorted, spinning around and confronting her face to face.
“I needed you to be upset,” she admitted, her hands raising as if to touch him before she thought better of it.
“So you're sadistic? I'm not surprised.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I needed to know?”
“Know what?”
“Needed to know if all it was to you was the money. Was it the only reason you were with me?”
His snappy retort died on his tongue and he glanced away as she again stripped him of all his defenses with just a few words. “And what about you?”
“I can leave here tomorrow, Laurence. And so can you.”
“We'd be fugitives,” he pointed out, stepping forward and grasping her waist to pull her closer.
“Fugitives with means,” she replied with a smile, pressing a kiss to the small cleft in his chin.
“I don't know if I can. I just-” he sighed and placed an answering kiss against her temple. “I don't think I can.”
_____
He'd been sitting alone in Detective Tsetsang's office for several hours before the morning shift began to wander in to get ready for the a.m. patrols. They walked past the open door but didn't enter or attempt to make polite conversation, granting him an illusion of solitude he appreciated. He studied the pictures tacked up, skimmed and organized the papers that littered the tabletop, finally settling down to wait for Detective Tsetsang to arrive. The information had been right in front of their faces for weeks, almost from the very beginning, and Dominic could admit to himself that both he and Detective Tsetsang had let his relationship with Adelle distract them. It was most likely what she'd intended all along, but he was back on the right track again and knew now it was only a matter of time before the loose ends tied themselves.
“You're here early.”
Tsetsang offered him a styrofoam cup of coffee so hot it still steamed even in the eighty degree air of the station and he accepted it with a grateful nod. “He went to M.I.T., graduated with double degrees, both in computer technology.”
“If you're here to have girl talk about your fling with the suspect, I don't want to hear it.”
“His consulting business takes in millions a year, he has over fifty programs patented, half of which are exclusively contracted to Rossum Corp. In the weeks before the theft, he and Ms. DeWitt had an increase in email and phone traffic of 53%. My team can't tell what was being said, but the increase is suspicious. Tack onto that the misdemeanor charges of hacking during his post-graduate studies at the California Institute of Technology, where Ms. DeWitt sponsors a scholarship,” he paused for dramatic effect, pulling a surveillance shot from the neat pile in front of him and pushing it across the table towards the detective, “which he won and was how he met Ms. DeWitt and they became friendly. She loaned him the capital to start his company, and there have been various business and personal connections over the years since then.”
Tsetsang set aside her coffee and picked up the photo, studying the face of the younger blond man with new eyes. “You think he's connected.”
“I think he wrote the program that she used,” he corrected.
“By now there's no evidence left, he'll have cleaned everything. We have no way to prove it.”
“Actually,” Dominic smiled at he grimly, “that's not entirely true. The bank had a closed network, and several weeks before the theft they underwent a security software upgrade. For the program to bypass the firewalls I'm told Mr. Grace would have needed direct access to a computer terminal somewhere in the building sometime after that. I believe that if we go back through the security footage, we'll have him on camera.”
“How long does the bank hold onto their camera footage?”
“Two weeks, but the LAPD confiscated everything they had at the beginning of the investigation.” Dominic shrugged. “If he's on there, it'll be there.”
He was, and the warrant to search the man's home and office was granted by a judge with very little pushing on the district attorney's part. Dominic didn't join Detective Tsetsang or her team as they searched the buildings; he directed his driver to take him to Adelle's and refused to think of what it might do to the investigation for him to go to her even as the police were building the case against her ever stronger.
The first thing he saw when he walked in the door were the suitcases at the bottom of the stairs. Instantly he felt it, the finality of the coming moments. There was a static void of sound in his head as he calmly walked up the stairs to the second floor, stopping in the doorway to watch her move through her bedroom, calmly directing her house-woman in the removal of her belongings from the closet and dresser and into more luggage even as she carried on a conversation on her phone.
“Topher, darling, breathe. Mr. Ambrose is already on his way, and he's an absolute beast. He'll have these warrants tossed out within the hour. In the meantime, your flight is in three hours. Understandably packing is out of the question while they search, but please tell me you have your passport on your person.” He knew the instant she saw him, though she continued to sift through the drawers of her vanity as if his reflection's appearance didn't surprise her. She met his eyes in the mirror, curved her lips in greeting, but continued her conversation nonetheless. “That's good, Topher. Have they searched the kitchen? Completely? Then go raid your drawer of inappropriate starches and have a snack. It's a long flight and you know you get cranky without regular snacks. They only allow small bags of peanut on commercial flights these days and that just will not sustain you.” She muttered a few more sentences into the phone, but nothing of consequence. Dominic remained frozen in the doorway as she finished the call, waited until she set the small hand-held aside and turned to him before he spoke.
“You're leaving.”
“I've finally grown weary of the heat, Mr. Dominic. I felt a sojourn to Europe was in order. You're more than welcome to join me, of course, though usually when I suggest we take a trip together you react badly.” She smiled at him, nodded a dismissal at her helper and waited until they were alone before speaking again. “Perhaps I should change my approach altogether. When I simply arrange things and you're forced to go along things seem to end well.”
“You're running,” he ignored the rest of her statement, didn't want to think of the implications and instead focused on the reason he was here.
“My plane leaves the tarmac in six hours, Laurence,” she answered quietly, moving across the room and sitting herself on the edge of her bed with a small sigh. “There is room on the flight for you. I could even have them stock your favorite vermouth, should you require liquid courage.”
“Don't ask me to compromise the investigation. I can't,” he replied. The list of things he couldn't do, things he wouldn't do, seemed to grow longer and more conflicted with the passing of each minute. He couldn't feasibly see himself boarding her private jet and leaving his entire life and career behind, he couldn't even see himself taking another step into the room.
“I'm not asking you to do anything against your principles. We're both just going to have to do what we have to do, Mr. Dominic. It's as simple as that.” She stood on unsteady legs, Dominic noticed her subtle shifting stance as she forcibly straightened her body on too high heels. The steps towards him were stronger, each more so, and when she stood mere inches away she smiled at him. “Burbank Airport, five o'clock. I leave with or without you.”
_____
Dominic was sitting in Tsetsang's office when she and her team returned from the raid on Mr. Grace's home and office. He could tell by the look on her face that they'd found something but he couldn't find the will to be overly curious about what. Just over the desk the cheap clock ticked obnoxiously and he couldn't resist throwing it a small glare.
“We found a flash drive that looks pretty damn alike to the one he had on the footage. It's been wiped, but the analysts say they might be able to find a ghost in the registry for what was on there,” Tsetsang explained without prompting, pulling a still from the bank footage from a file and handing it to Dominic though she had to realize he'd already seen everything within it. “It's circumstantial, but it's a step.”
Dominic studied the shot he was already familiar with and set it aside to reach for his briefcase. He shuffled the papers within silently for several seconds before removing a small file and setting it on the desk between them. It took only a few seconds for him to find the captured still from the bank footage he was looking for, but he procrastinated for another minute. If he gave this to the detective then it was well and truly over, there would be no going back. He wanted it to be a question of his ethics, of whether or not he could tolerate her morally gray nature when his own honor code was so strict, but it wasn't. He wasn't debating his next move, he was anticipating how much it was going to hurt.
“That flash drive looks to be a mirror of this one,” he noted as he handed the photo to Detective Tsetsang. “That was taken the day of crime, and yes, that is Adelle DeWitt holding it.”
“How long have you had this?”
“Three days. My team processed the surveillance footage faster than your's, they brought that to my attention though I wasn't sure it's significance until just now.” It was a lie and he knew that Tsetsang recognized it for one.
“With this we can probably push through a warrant for DeWitt's home and office.”
“You won't find anything.”
“You don't have the crime scene unit like we do,” Tsetsang argued, “we can find things that aren't there anymore. Fingerprints, impressions, trace fibers.”
“Can't find something that isn't there,” he shot back. “She's leaving, packed up this morning.”
“When were you planning on informing me of this?”
Dominic leaned back, studied the anger on the detective's face, and forced a nonchalant shrug. “Just now.”
“The warrant will take a while, but this is enough to seize her passport. We can keep her in town until we get more evidence,” Tsetsang was practically talking to herself by that point, her hand already reaching for the phone and dialing the district attorney. Dominic didn't say anything, but his gaze tracked to the clock and mentally calculated how long the red tape would most likely last. The knot in his chest told him that they would be there in time to stop Adelle's flight but it would be a close thing.
Tsetsang slammed the phone down and interrupted his brooding, halfway out the door before she realized he wasn't following. “You coming, Mr. Dominic? The district attorney wants me to meet him at the courthouse.”
“Might as well,” he nodded and stood, grabbing the photos on the desk and returning them to his briefcase. “I have nothing better to do.”
_____
“I don't recommend cornering her, Detective,” Dominic asserted from the passenger seat. They sat in the prone vehicle, both studying the airplane being prepped a few hundred feet away. “She won't react well to that.”
“Shall I go up and request her presence at tea, Mr. Dominic?” Her snide tone revealed just what she thought of his suggestion, but Dominic grew increasingly uncomfortable with the way her police officers were handling themselves as they stepped out of the numerous vehicles now parked on the tarmac. Most of them were too eager, their holsters unsnapped like they were about to enter the O.K. Corral, and the rest had the hard eyes of people who'd lost more than a bit of their humanity on the job.
“Do you really need twelve officers to serve a cease-and-desist to a white-collar-criminal?”
“Are you going to be a problem?”
“I thought I already was?”
“After today you can't be involved with the case,” she confirmed, though Dominic had already suspected the district attorney had told her as much in their brief conversation just out of his hearing range. “The D.A. has the backing of the International Finance Corporation on that.”
He could already imagine his bosses were furious, but Dominic couldn't really find it in himself to care. “Tell your men to lock their holsters and fall back. She's not going to be a problem. She's British aristocracy, for God's sake. At the most, she'll smack you and challenge you to a duel.”
Tsetsang smirked but shrugged. “We go by department policy, Dominic, and your judgment is skewed.” She paused before exiting the car, “But I'll have them lock their holsters.”
He watched her team move towards the plane, not allowed to actually join them. In his head the scene played out, Adelle unsurprised and acerbically witty, Tsetsang arrogant and gloating; they'd exchange cutting comments before Adelle's lawyer would step out of the cockpit and introduce himself. They'd relinquish her passport but swear to fight the detainment in court, most likely they'd be capable of having it thrown out. All the evidence against Adelle was circumstantial and only remotely damning; any good lawyer would be able to keep her and Mr. Grace out of prison. He wasn't worried about her going to prison; Dominic's priority had always been to get the money back by whatever means necessary, even if it meant using illegal means himself.
“Mr. Dominic, if you'd join us, please?” Detective Tsetsang called to him from the door to the plane, but Dominic was lost as to why. Her invitation was a violation of protocol given that he'd been dismissed of his privileges regarding the case.
The walk across the long expanse of concrete felt like it took hours, though Dominic knew it was really only minutes. Several of the police officers took up stances at the bottom of the portable stairs and he wasn't encouraged by the empty looks on their faces. Whatever they may have found in there no one looked happy about and suddenly the knot in his stomach twisted cruelly as the possibilities warred in his thoughts.
Tsetsang stood at the open door, her eyes cold and her mouth twisted in a dissatisfied scowl as she waited for him to join her. By the time he reached her side there was a thin layer of sweat on his brow and his own mouth had slipped into frown. “I'm not supposed to be here.”
“I thought you'd like to see this,” Tsetsang offered, stepping aside so he could enter the cabin of the private jet. He hesitated, tried to see some hint of what he was walking into on her face but failed to garner anything. He shrugged and stepped inside, took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the sudden dimness, and moved further into the plane. He didn't see anything out of place; it was pristine and empty, set up more like a comfortable lounge than a commercial airplane. It looked exactly as it had the last time he'd been on it, the exception being that Adelle wasn't on board this time.
As soon as he thought of it he realized that was why Tsetsang had called him over. Adelle wasn't here making her escape as he'd told the detective she would be.
“There's a note with your name on it,” the detective offered, nodding towards the small envelope laying on side table by the window. “Figured I'd let you read it before I hand it over to the crime scene techs. Wear gloves.” Her admonition was accompanied by a pair of latex gloves tossed at him that he caught easily. He slipped them on without complaint and was just reaching for the envelope when Tsetsang's phone chirped loudly into the silent cabin. He didn't spare her a single look as she flipped open the device and stepped out the door to speak in low tones, his attention was entirely on communique bearing his name just in front of him.
She'd used her personal stationary, the paper soft and thick and just slightly cream colored; the ink swirled across the page in deep swathes from pressure and he knew she'd been emotional when writing it if she'd pressed down so hard.
His fingers weren't shaking as he removed the folded letter from within the envelope, but his entire body felt like it was vibrating from tension as he unfolded it. The simple message within burned his retinas, the dark ink dancing shadows behind his eyes. Detective Tsetsang's voice was shrill and angry as it echoed back to his ears, but it was all noise for the little he paid her attention.
I trust you.
She didn't sign her name. It was simple and to the point, succinct to the exclusion of emotion, but Dominic couldn't help but feel the statement was candidly cutting. She'd trusted him and he'd betrayed her. Even worse, it was exactly what she'd expected him to do.
“Throw it in an evidence bag and let's go,” Tsetsang barked from the cabin door, yanking him from his introspection with no ceremony. “They want to see us at the Bank of L.A.”
“You don't want to read it?” Dominic questioned, taking an evidence bag from one of the officers that appeared on the opposite end of the cabin, slipping from the cockpit where they'd been interrogating the pilot.
“I already have,” she replied, shrugging without a hint of remorse. “She's not here, we have no leads on her location, and my boss just told me to get my ass over to the bank. Your presence has been specifically requested so let's go.”
_____
The bank manager invited them into his office as soon as they stepped foot in the building and the door shut behind them with a firm click that had Dominic and Tsetsang exchanging wary glances as they declined to take a seat and instead studied the man before him. He was nervous, his hands shaking and his brow sweating despite the fully cranked air conditioning that blew coldly from a vent above the desk. Behind the manager's desk sat another man and Dominic was surprised to find he recognized him.
He stepped forward to shake the man's hand, smiling professionally though his mind reeled from the consequences of the man's presence. “Hello, Mr. Perrin. May I introduce the detective in charge of the L.A.P.D.'s investigation? This is Detective Tsetsang,” Dominic turned to her and completed the introduction. “Detective, this is Mr. Daniel Perrin, Chief Investigative Officer for the I.F.C.”
“Your boss?” She simplified with a smirk, shaking the man's hand and stepping back with an amused look on her face.
“We prefer the term 'director',” Perrin offered, gesturing for the two of them to seat themselves before the desk. Maybe it was the charm the man exuded so easily, or the sense of power and influence that clung to his expensive suit, but neither declined the offer that time. With just a look from Perrin the manager scurried out of the officer, the trio remained silent until he was gone, and with a small smile Perrin let the silence continue for several seconds before speaking. “We are in a bit of a quandary, Mr. Dominic.”
“I can explain my actions,” Dominic began but Perrin continued speaking as if he hadn't bothered.
“The theft that you and Detective Tsetsang have been investigating for two months never actually occurred.”
Dominic observed the slight blush that rose on Mr. Perrin's neck, the way his eyes immediately shifted from Dominic's eyes to a point between his eyebrows, subtle enough but blatant signs of lying. His first reaction was to demand an explanation, but he knew immediately that the truth wasn't something that was on the menu today. Tsetsang wasn't as clued in, however, and her reaction was overzealous.
“Excuse me? What the hell do you mean it 'never occurred'?”
“During a routine examination of locked sub-accounts we came across discrepancies in the amounts. Nothing large enough to garner federal attention, which requires transfers $5000 and above to be registered, but upon calculation the sum total of the difference was concluded to be the exact amount incorrectly labeled “stolen” several months ago. Our analysts believe a glitch within the software security led to the error,” Perrin explained, retaining his charming but utterly fake smile.
“What kind of glitch causes 100 million to go missing?” Tsetsang asked through clenched teeth. Dominic worried briefly about the look on her face, she was angrier than he'd ever seen her and the way that vein was pulsing in her temple didn't look healthy, but he allowed her to monopolize the conversation. His own concerns would be best addressed in private, away from the prying ears of the L.A.P.D.
“With the increase in digital theft every year our research and development department felt it pertinent to implement subroutines designed to hide large accounts of money from hackers in locked accounts that couldn't be accessed from outside the company. They explained that they seemed to have done a better job than intended, but with the money transferred back to the appropriate accounts the situation has been resolved.”
“I don't believe this,” Tsetsang muttered, pushing herself up and pacing the office restlessly. “I've been working this case for two freakin' months, and you're telling me I was wasting my time? I don't believe it. DeWitt did something. She's involved in this. I don't know how, but she is.”
“You have the appropriate paperwork, Mr. Perrin?” Dominic asked, deliberately calm and placid as he accepted the file Perrin held out to him. He studied the figures and tables within, made a show and studying the words and numbers even as Tsetsang continued to pace behind him. “Everything seems to be in order, Detective. Would you like-”
She snatched the file from his hands and glared at the both of them. “This investigation is not closed. Something happened that day, and I will find out what.”
Perrin and Dominic watched the detective storm out with a determined look on her face but both of them knew that nothing stonewalled an investigation as well as big corporation and it's love of money. If the International Finance Corporation didn't want the matter investigated further then it wouldn't be, and there was nothing Tsetsang could do about it.
Dominic stood and shut the door, locked it for good measure, and turned back to Mr. Perrin. “Locked sub-accounts?”
“The board wants this handled quietly. Your fee will be transferred to your account within the hour,” Perrin replied. “They look forward to having you back in Berlin.”
“If the money was never gone, then I couldn't have retrieved it. Why pay my fee?”
“We'll resolve the problem within the media with a simple solution. You located the funds with the assistance of the L.A.P.D. and were able to transfer them back to the original accounts. You've more than earned your fee, Mr. Dominic.”
“Hush money?” Dominic observed, smirking just a bit as he confronted Perrin across the desk. “Did DeWitt have something to do with this?”
“As far as the board is concerned, this was a large misunderstanding that was played up by the media and police force into a conspiracy that never existed,” Perrin explained, shrugging away Dominic's question. “Ms. DeWitt has been very understanding of the entire matter, and as a show of faith has agreed to allow all of Rossum's financial interests be handled by I.F.C. for the indeterminate future.”
“What about-”
“Your flight leaves in six hours, Mr. Dominic,” Perrin interrupted with a stony look in his eyes. He reached into his suit jacket and removed a small leaflet to hand to Dominic. “Rest assured, this matter has been successfully resolved for all parties.”
It didn't feel like closure, though, and even knowing that his job was technically done didn't make Dominic feel any less irked by the lack of resolution. He knew that he wouldn't get answers, not here, maybe not ever, so he took the airline ticket and nodded slowly. “I'll write up my report on the flight and have it delivered to your office within 24 hours of my arrival.”
“No need to be so prudent, Mr. Dominic. Take a few days to rest, you've worked quite hard on this investigation. We can schedule a meeting later this week and go over your report together,” Perrin explained. Dominic knew the real intention would be to corroborate the stories they would perpetuate on paperwork should anyone come investigating, but it was what he'd expected. This wasn't the first time he'd been involved in a cover-up of the truth regarding financial crime and most likely it wouldn't be the last. Big business was always part behind-the-scenes scheming, part public-relations manipulation, and what little was left could barely be called business ethics. It bothered him on an innate level, but he couldn't say it surprised him anymore. He'd grown accustomed to the calculating nature of working in the finance world, but this was the first time he could truly say he was unsatisfied with his career.
In the few seconds between standing and shaking Perrin's hand and stepping out the office door, Dominic decided it hadn't been worth it. Betraying Adelle, relentlessly pursuing the missing money that was basically a drop in the well of what I.F.C. had at their disposal, sacrificing the little happiness he'd found in years just to do his job only to find that it'd already been done for him? With an ache that echoed from his chest and reverberated behind his eyes, Dominic found himself at a standstill in the empty hall, unsure how to make himself put one foot in front of the other.
He had his fee, had his job, had somehow landed on his feet despite the mess he'd made of the investigation; he was suddenly and irrevocably aware that he stood alone though.
_____
It was a late night flight and everyone on the plane was appropriately somber as they settled in. Dominic stowed his carry-on above his seat and settled himself in for the long flight ahead with a weary sigh. They'd have a layover in New York to refuel before they began the long journey over the Atlantic and he fully intended to sleep most of the travel time away. He'd already requested a travel pillow and light blanket from a flight attendant and had somehow landed the lucky odds of not having a seat mate. He heard the crew going through the motions of sealing off the plane, explaining safety measures to the other passengers, but his mind was miles away.
The jet began to move, slowly drifting towards the runway, and with another sigh Dominic eased his seat back and settled in to try to sleep. His eyes were closed and he was just on the edge of drowsiness when he felt movement beside him, the soft brush of air as someone slipped into the seat next to him. He frowned but didn't stir, hoped that whoever it was would know better than to bother him.
“If we were on my private jet you could've stretched out and been truly comfortable. You're a touch too tall to be comfortable sleeping in business class.”
He could almost tell himself he was imagining her voice, but the soft scent of gardenias that invaded his senses wasn't something he felt his mind capable of duplicating.
“Do you think I'm going to apologize?” Dominic asked without opening his eyes or moving even a centimeter. He was frozen, unwilling to move or risk doing something that would break the fragile connection they'd pushed to the breaking point that day.
“No,” she replied and even with his eyes closed he knew she was smiling. “No, Laurence, I do not expect you to apologize. I trust you, you know. It's odd for me. Unexpected.”
“I told the police you were leaving,” he pointed out, reaching down blindly and pulling the lever to straighten his seat. He blinked slowly at the back of the seat before him; without turning his head he could see her profile, the sleek skirt and gorgeous legs crossed nonchalantly, her right foot bobbing back and forth the only sign of nerves she allowed.
“I knew you would,” she replied, reaching over and laying her hand on his arm. “I trust you to be yourself, Laurence. Works out quite well for me, since I love you.”
She'd never said it before and his head turned towards her before he could stop himself. She looked tired but beautiful, her eyes waiting for a reaction where he wasn't sure how to respond. “I still don't know what to do. You returned the money, my boss is telling me job well done, but I still feel like the other shoe needs to drop.”
“There is no choice anymore, Laurence. It's not the money, your job, or me. I decided I didn't want to be an option,” she explained frankly, her lips curling in a small smile.
Dominic frowned, his throat closing around the words forming there. “So I've lost you anyways.”
Adelle gaped at him, confusion furrowing her brow as she listened to his words. Dominic shifted so her hand slid off of his arm, and sat stoically studying the moving landscape outside the small port window. He expected her to leave then, having driven home the feeling of his loss with words softly spoken in the dim light of the cabin. To his surprise she unlatched her seatbelt, ignoring the sign calling for safety measures before take-off, and slid into his lap, forcing him to face her. “I said I didn't want to be an option. I've decided “requirement” is a better classification for my place in your life, if you'll have me. I figured somewhere between 'air' and 'sustenance' would suit me just fine.”
Her last words were whispered against his lips and with each glancing touch of her lips he felt the chains of his grief and melancholy fall away. His arms circled her waist too tightly and he felt her gasp at the pressure but they were sharing the same breath again and he couldn't think of a place he'd rather be in that moment.
One of the flight attendants appeared on the other side of Adelle's now empty seat, admonishing their disregard for safety measures but neither heard her.
Neither felt like rules really applied to them anyways.
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