Interrogation Room


felix_icon.gif leland_icon.gif

Scene Title Interrogation Room
Synopsis Leland drags Felix into one to talk about one Teodoro Laudani.
Date June 21, 2009

NYPD Headquarters

When Felix is on the ball - when it's summer, when he's on his meds, and well-fed, and not otherwise distraught - he's a dynamo. So it's been a long day of pounding the pavement, making calls, and trying to finish up a zillion reports. He doesn't look too weary, not at the moment. Almost relaxing, as he holes up in the little corner of cubicle he's been given, glass of water placed carefully to the side so he doesn't spill it on the equipment paid for by the citizens of the City of New York.

Leland on the other hand, hasn't been on such a hot streak. He's been run six different ways because of this case - none of them particularly good. And when he heard the rumour, well.

There's a six foot or so burly man making his way through the cubicles into Felix's little slice of it. He leans forward, both hands, fingers curled into fists planted on the side of the desk so he can lean towards the Fed. "Can I talk to you for a minute? In room B?" Interrogation room, but it can be used for other purposes.

This might not be one of those 'other purposes' though.

Never the fun purposes. There could be fun purposes. Felix entertains fantasies that involve Leland and handcuffs and tables. He will never admit this. Not until the shining future when Lee can just hear them on his own. "Sure," he says, mildly, without any hint that he suspects Lee is about to verbally strip away some skin. He follows, glasses perched on his nose, looking more clerkish than ever, like's just an accountant that happened to wander into the Bureau and get given a badge.

And Lee looks for all the world like a street thug who wandered off the street and glared at people until they gave him a gun. They couldn't be more different kinds of cops - in a lot of ways.

The light haired man moves steps ahead of Felix, pausing by his desk to scoop up a folder before heading back towards the interrogation rooms. He pushes the door open - harder than he really needs to - and waits for Felix to go in first.

Once they're both inside, he shuts the door and drops the folder down on the table. "What do you know about this kid?" He flips open the folder and shoves a grainy, but recognizable security photo of a certain young Italian towards Felix.

Felix doesn't sit. He's not willing to admit this is an actual interrogation until pushed. So rather than take that seat opposite Lee and lay his hand right by the table cuff, he cranes his neck, takes a good look, winces. "Teodoro Laudani. Sicilian national. Involved in the pro-Evolved underground. I suspect close ties to PHOENIX, possibly more remote ones to PARIAH. He was my CI for a little, during the Vanguard case. Now, apparently, he's got a hard on and a bullet for any cops that cross his path."

"Not a bullet, a fucking sword. He impaled a guy." Lee flips through the file and pushes an autopsy report towards Felix. "And he set off a bunch of high explosives both here and in a Humanis First house. Blew the shit out of an old man and a fifteen year old girl. Left this long list of confessions. Buncha crimes I can't string together."

Leland looks up to catch his friend's eye, to look at the bespectacled Russian with the hard-nosed gaze that's broken many a criminal. "What the fuck is going on with this kid, Felix?"

There's nothing but honest bewilderment in Felix's face, tempered by regret. "I don't know, Leland," he says, gently. "I don't know. I saw the confessions. They're lies, at least somewhat. Temporally impossible, I think. Unless he hit puberty and turned into Osama Bin Laden. What his motivation is, I don't know."

"You know this kid. You worked with him, took info from him. You tell me what's going through his head. Whatever happened down at the station was damn personal. You don't use a fucking sword unless you wanna feel someone die." Leland plants a thumb onto the autopsy report. "I want you to go through that list and tell me what's 'temporally impossible' so I can try and find a damn pattern in all of this. The guys who got killed down at the precinct were under the microscope by IA. They were probably dirty."

He takes a deep breath and drops into one of the chairs, hand to forehead. "This shit's got me running in circles. And every day that passes is one day closer to when your boys are gonna take this away from me."

Fel nods, obligingly picks it up, trails a callused fingertip down it. 'That, for one. He'd've been fucking six years old at the time. He's not a body jumper or an immortal, not even Evolved. This one….he'd've been sixteen. And hadn't yet ever been to the states. I don't know if he's trying point out that they were all committed by one being. Something awful like Volken, or a time traveller…."

"Well, let's look at the ones that are within the last few months. Try to find an MO, a common thread between those." It's clear that this case is eating at Leland a bit. Mostly because of the lack of results and the inevitability of it being yanked from his hands. It's a pride thing. Failure to make any headway on this is going to lead to a pretty bruised ego. Even if terrorism isn't exactly his area of expertise.

He looks at the papers, then at Felix again. "Or maybe I shouldn't be asking you. You too close to this kid, uh? Friends? I know how it can get with informants."

'I'm not sure he's done -any- of these save what we caught him on tape with," Fel says. He points out the multiple homicides and arson with a flick of a nail. "We wanted Flint Deckard for this. And while Flint is guilty as sin of a lot of black, black stuff, he didn't do this. I was sure than and remain certain now that this is from the Vanguard. I suspect a lot of these he couldn't have done were, as well." He gives Lee a long-suffering look. "No," he says, finally. "I was wrong in terms of my estimates of his moral capability. But he seemed like a good German at the time, and we -needed- contacts. But the Feds don't grant anyone a license to kill, let alone dirty cops."

Leland rubs a big hand over his face and whuffs out an irritated breath of air. "So all these other confessions were either to make a point, or the whole thing was just to fuck with us and make us chase our tails." If that was the case, objective achieved.

"Fuck, I dunno. This kid's goddamn dangerous in any event. And he's a cop killer. We got that on tape." He grabs his page of notes and flips through it. "You know anyone named Champ? Got a nickname of Champ? Or someone named Gail?"

A blank shake of the head from Felix. "No. Not a name I know, either of them. I can run them through our databases, if you want?" he offers, tone studiously mild, even as he peers at Lee.

"The kid and the cops said what sounded like Gail Champ or somethin' in the video. But the audio's shit. So's the video quality. Fucking…police station had shitty surveillance cameras. It's a goddamn shame." Not only because it means they're underfunded, but also because it makes Lee's investigation more difficult. "Maybe you should just get one of your boys on this case. I keep hitting dead ends in this. He seems damn erratic. I don't know anything about him so I can't guess what he's up to." Hence why he came to Felix.

This is when Felix -blanches-. Even if he wanted to dissemble, he couldn't - the blood just falls out of his face like he's got a vampire latched to his ankle. "I…Abigail Beauchamp," he says, suddenly.

"What?" Leland looks up from the file to give Felix a look. He arches a brow. "The god girl who healed you?" Ah, what a flattering description. Gail…Champ. "Oh. Does she know this Teo character?" He taps the photo again and tries to catch Felix's eyes again. The Fed doesn't look so hot.

Felix forces his gaze back down. "Yes. I…yes,she does. I don't know what she does or if she's involved in those circles beyond healing. I think she'll heal whomever comes to her. Very adamant that it's God's gift to be given as freely as possible," he says. He looks like his lips have gone numb.

"Felix, why do you look like someone just walked over your grave, uh? Spit it out all right? Do you know why he killed these cops? What does it have to do with the healing girl?" Leland's tone gets forceful. He's not going to wear kid gloves just because Felix is his friend. Or rather, he's doing him the courtesy of not dancing around it because he is his friend and a fellow cop.

"I still don't know, Leland," Felix likes saying his name. "They were the peaceable end of the Pro-Evolved groups, last I knew. About agitation and civil disobedience until recently - a schism from more violent groups like PARIAH. She…I owe her a lot, and she's suffered much. I don't know why this guy mentioned her there."

"I think this guy's gone rogue. Everything smells personal. If you're just getting a job done, you don't do things the way this Laudani kid's doing it." Or so Leland imagines with his limited experience with terrorists. He's used to chasing down chop shops and narco rings. People with fairly straightforward motivations. Terrorists and serial killers have more complicated psychologies. It's a bit over his head. "Is there nothing you can do to help me with this?"

"She works at a bar. Old Lucy's. You could go talk to her. I…..I haven't had contact with Laudani in a while. His motives are opaque. That assumes it's him in there, and not just a framejob. The Vanguard did it before, it could be something similar. Trying to sic the cops on their opponents to better proceed unhindered."

That seems to cause a hiccup in Leland's thought processes. Right. The Evolved variable. "You saying it's someone who can change faces?" A beat, and then a rather loud, "Fuck," that causes someone passing by the interrogation room to peer in. He threads fingers through short hair and rests his elbows on the table. "I'll see if I can't track her down," he mumbles. "See if she knows anything about these cops he killed."

Felix takes a deep, slow breath. "I know shapeshifters, illusionists, and faceshifters exist. This is uncharacteristic for what I know of Laudani. And….entirely in line with the Vanguard and its successors. It may be Laudani, if he's utterly snapped. Beyond that, Lee, I don't know."

Leland stays bent over the table for a moment, then reaches forward to sweep the reports back into the file. "You tell me if you see this Laudani character, all right? But if there is something impersonating him, then the real one's probably dead or locked away somewheres." He pushes the chair back and takes a deep breath. "If Beauchamp doesn't give me anything, well." He's run out of leads to chase down.

There was a time when a case, even involving an Evolved wouldn't get him so frustrated. It's almost like he's starting to believe the rhetoric that a normal human can't be an adequate cop these days.

Which Fel would never believe. It's too easy for the mutants to rely on whatever their stupid people trick happens to be. "Talk to me. I'll do what I can, get ahold of anything that the Feds know that isn't in your files," he says, nodding to said files.

"You should stay back from this, Felix. He was your informant. If we ever do catch him, that might be seen as a conflict of interest." Leland's tone is characteristically gruff, but the Fed knows him well enough to know Daubrey-type concern when he hears it. "This is my last lead. If Beauchamp doesn't give me anything useful, then I'm turning this one over. Terrorists. Not my specialty." He grunts, raps the file on the table, then starts for the door.

"Not really mine either," Fel says, mournfully, as he moves to follow. The table gets a regretful backward glance. Someday. Someday.

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