2020-07-24 - Observe and Report

It's not quite so intimidating back here as it was in the days when Felix claimed the spot directly. Partly, that's the lack of Andre (poor Andre); largely it's probably the lack of Felix. There's still a bouncer who makes sure those back here are safe, and takes a particular interest in anyone going up to the main office, but it feels more casual than it used to be. And at present, a bit less specifically bodyguard and a bit more 'shit keeps going down in town'.

Rhys has what used to be Felix's office now, and that's where he's working today, having sent Tor a message of essentially 'please drop by sometime between 1 and 4 when you get a chance'. He's at the desk, shirt-sleeves folded up and blazer hung on the back of the chair at present; the AC inside the club is fine, but it's summer, all the same.

Tor is low enough on the food chain that if someone higher up tells him to jump, well, he's doing jumping jacks. Which means it's about 1:45 when he arrives (notably after the lunch rush for various deliveries.) The scruffy ne'er do well is dressed for the summer heat in ripped jean shorts and a striped tank top. Hey, no one keeps him around for his fashion sense.

He notes the differences but truth be told, he hasn't been called to the back room often. That's mostly been his uncle, and then jobs get delegated out from there.

He enters the office after passing the requisite thugs, then upnods when he sees Rhys. "Hey."

Rhys glances up from his computer, where his attention's drifted back between being told Tor was there and the door actually opening, and returns the upnod, with a quick grin. "Hey," he replies, and gestures to the chairs on the other side of the desk, "Have a seat. Thirsty? It's hot out there today."

Tor mops shaggy hair back from his seat and drops into the seat. "M'okay, thanks. I try to chug water when I'm out driving. Lots of people order food when it's hot as shit cause they don't wanna cook. S'why I wasn't here earlier. Lunch rush." He's a little hard to read. He's obviously not entirely casual, but nor is he acting intimidated and shirk-y either. If he did, he wouldn't have made it this far - crime family or no.

There's a balance to be struck, for sure. Rhys is pretty good at casual, but there's an underlayer of businesslike there as well, even with the grin. "Figured you might need some leeway, and I was gonna be here anyway this afternoon," he says, with a slight shrug, and sits back a little, considering Tor for a breath or so. "What I'm gonna ask you might be tougher on scheduling, but I'm sure you can figure it out. You know there's outsiders trying to move in here, of course." Hard not to, really. "I've tracked down someone we want to know more about, who needs watching. Subtly, ideally." The 'we decided you were a good choice for that' is left to sit implied, for now.

Tor extends his hands, "Listen, I just do the delivery thing to keep my money even between jobs. And my uncle's not gonna say no if you need me off slinging pizzas." The Lockharts are good soldiers. Not the brightest bunch, but steady and reliable. The young pizza delivery driver is the exception. He's the kind of guy who has smarts but has never applied it past getting in and out of trouble.

"Who's the mark?"

Good answer. Rhys is entirely willing to look quietly pleased with it, too. His stepfather (until the guy disappeared) was more in the elder-Lockhart mode; clearly this generation got the brains, but that doesn't make 'good soldier' matter any less. Arguably more.

"Her name is Annabelle Trudeau. Tax accountant." He runs off her home and work addresses, and taps at the computer, turning it around to show a few photographs he's found. "Clean record, no signs of interesting vices. Almost aggressively boring. But she moved into town about six months ago and somehow she's ended up with a lot of clients who my calculations say should to be paying us more than they currently are." And this organization is not the IRS. There are no loopholes for a good accountant to find.

"I want to know who else she's interacting with, what she's up to that doesn't leave the kind of trail I can follow. Hell, and why she's working for them, if you can catch any hints to that, but in general? I want to know whatever we can catch about her and hers without them getting a heads up." A small pause, and, "At some point that might involve breaking into her place, but not immediately. Still, case it if you get a good chance. Do you have any aptitude with electronics or computers, by the way?"

Tor pulls out a small notebook with a loop to hold a pen. It's fairly anachronistic given the world they live in. It's easy to get a look at the pages when he opens it up, but that won't tell Rhys anything. It's all in coded shorthand - a mix of numbers, letters, and faux characters. He turns to a fresh page and makes a new series of marks. "Thinking she might be bag man for the other team? Shee-yit." He sucks air between his teeth.

"Do we know anything about the clients?" he asks, tapping the small silver pen against his book. Then, "Nah, not much of an electronics guy. I mean, I'm learning how to work DJ equipment, but that's about it."

Rhys eyes the book with casual interest, and possibly approves of what he can catch of the shorthand; willing to allow the notes, at least. "I'm thinking she's more or less their version of me, except with longer hair and less pizzazz," Rhys says dryly, "...or at least, it looks like she is financially. If she's got talents past the general accounting they don't show up where I can look, but... careful about underestimating her, just in case." After all, he's got first-hand knowledge of the subconscious assumptions people often make about accountants... and how useful those can once in a while be.

"As far as the clients, a few things. We know who they seem to be, about when it looks like they started working with her, that the percentage of them with criminal ties I know about is statistically nowhere near random, and that they overlap a fair amount with who's currently trying to be sneaky about holding out on us." A flicker of a glance toward the monitor, and he gives some examples, adding, "Keep it confidential for the moment. That part'll get handled, but I don't want word getting around yet."

He nods to the answer about electronics; alas. "Well, if it comes to needing any higher-tech surveillance or getting directly at her computer, we'll sort that out then. What else would be helpful to you in doing this?"

"Hey listen, man," says Tor as he gestures with his pen. "I just assume anything said in this kinda context is confidential." You don't grow up around criminals and not learn to keep your mouth shut. Those that don't, tend to be on the receiving end of a beat-down as an example to everyone else.

And he certainly knows about being underestimated. Scruffy trailer trash from a bad family who delivers things? Definitely someone people overlook. But he's learned to use that to his advantage.

"I got a buddy who can hack the Uber Eats record and maybe set it up so I get any of her orders. Pizza Kitchen's a bit easier since I can just go into our system, but if she's smart at all she might not be ordering from us." Because in criminal circles at least, it's not exactly a secret that the Lockharts play for Felix's team. "And I can source you shit. Bugs and cameras and all that. And I know enough to place 'em. Just not to program 'em or make sure they're working. The hacker buddy's gonna need a pay-off. And any info you got about the clients. If she ends up being hard to track, might make sense to try and follow one of her clumsier clients. See if they tip."

Rhys has graduated from trailer-trash to... boat-trash? Okay, the boat has got a bit more cachet, even if it's really smaller than the trailer his mom still lives in over there. Upward mobility, right? He grins, leaning back slightly. "Good. Figured, frankly, but." But this one he apparently needed to be explicit about anyway. Fair chance that isn't actually Tor-related.

The mention of the hacker friend has him thoughtful, and he gives a slight nod at the mention of possibly following a client, though he adds, "Just err on the side of caution with that for now. I trust your judgement on when checking down a subline here seems useful." He doesn't add any names to the ones he already mentioned, so presumably that's either all of them or all the ones he considers relevant to possibly being followed, at least currently. "Good to know on the bugs and all. And I'm interested in knowing some more about your hacker friend. We're short on really good ones right now." Since Hannah's no longer around.

"Hacker friend is a bit squirrelly. Thinks of herself as white hat but still needs to pay rent, ya know?" Tor shrugs. "I'm usually pretty careful about what jobs I put her way.Cause she'll go to ground fast."

He makes another note in his book and then sucks air between his teeth. "Good thing about my job is I can make a wrong delivery pretty easy. And hell, the moment we get a heat wave? Everyone and their dog is ordering in. I just gotta be vigilant and look out for the right names. And people don't tend to be too careful around delivery guys." Especially ones that are as known around town as he is. "Hell, I drive for Uber proper sometimes too. Might get lucky and get one of 'em in my car." A pause and eyebrows lift at Rhys.

"Anything special I should do if that happens?"

Figures. Never a hacker with the right priorities around when you want one. Can't be helped, though. Or at least not quickly. "Yeah, everyone's gotta pay the bills." Rhys considers a moment. "If she's pretty squirrelly and low-key... probably not going to be a problem her knowing the addresses you want ending up with you, but I need to know a little more about her. Just enough to be pretty sure I can avoid overlap from any other directions. A name'd be good. Initials'd be a start."

Those are indeed benefits to Tor's job for the situation, and Rhys looks like he can probably appreciate them. The last question's an interesting one, and he mulls it briefly. "Mostly, just make a note of where you get them and take them to, and let me know once you've dropped them off. Observe what you can. Otherwise, nah, nothing real special."

"She goes by Daggerfield, but the e is a 3. Which..." Tor makes a gesture with his hand, "...doesn't really transfer into speech. If you know any one you can check her rep."

The book gets closed and slipped away. "Observe and report. You got it, chief."

"There's two Es," Rhys notes, but it seems to be a mild joke, no real worries about a potential farce involving Dagg3rfield, Daggerfi3ld, and Dagg3rfi3ld. It probably wouldn't have been one of Oscar Wilde's best. "Thanks. Should make it easier not to cross any streams." And he might indeed go ahead and check her rep, if has any decent idea where or how. But that's not Tor's problem, after all.

"If it needs to get more interactive, I'll let you know, but for now, yeah, that's about the size of it. Delicious, delicious data. All set?"

"Oh yeah," says Tor at Rhys' comment. He thinks about it and then notes, "The first e is a three." A smirk follows and he pushes hair out of his face. "I call her DG in part cause tossing around hacker handles in text just looks so suspiciously 90s."

He nods once. "All set. I'll report back as soon as I know something. Worse comes to worse? The ole prepaid order to the wrong address usually makes people open the door. Most people don't say no to free food."

Rhys laughs. "It's gotta, yeah. You'd end up with someone dropping by with a warrant on suspicion of possession of overalls and excess Nirvana tees." It's the PNW, excess flannel doesn't exist. "Faster to type, too."

The free food scheme gets a casual shift of one hand into a point, a good thinking kind of acknowledgement. "All right, then. You've got my number if you need it. And thanks."