A Cordial Visit

finnegan_icon.png kenneth_icon.png

Where: Kenneth's Apartment

When: August 11, 2012

What: After not finding any of the lost drives in Kenneth's apartment, Finnegan has himself a little sit-down with Mr. Rose.

Kenneth doesn't have a regular job yet, but he has his ways of making money here and there. This may have made it hard to time his comings and goings, but he's not that hard to tail. He walks toward home in one of the more affordable districts in town, blissfully unaware that there's anything he whould be worried about.

What Kenneth doesn't know is he has a shadow and has had for the past several hours. Jamison Finnegan blends into the crowds easily enough when he has a mind to. Today there's no dark suit like the one he'd worn the other night; instead he looks like any other tourist or resident on a Saturday in jeans and a t-shirt. His face and eyes are obscured by a baseball cap and mirrored shades.

When Kenneth gets to his apartment, there's no sign that it's been touched since he last left it. Everything is in the same place he left it — unfortunately for Finn, who was hoping to need to remove at least one particular bit of technology from the premises, but no such luck. This is why Finn waits a few moments for Kenneth to settle inside before knocking on the door to announce his presence.

Kenneth is whistling merrily to himself inside. His apartment is on the small side, but neat, with just about the usual furniture you'd expect to see in a single man's pad. He breaks off whistling and goes to answer the door. "Can I help you?" he asks cheerfully.

Sunglasses come off, revealing Finnegan's face that may or may not be familiar to Kenneth from the eventful night on Fremont Street. "Mister Rose, is it? Can I bother you for a couple of moments of your time?" He too smiles, nothing threatening in expression or that southern drawl. Meanwhile he flashes the FBI badge he'd had the other night.

"Don't worry. You're not in any trouble at all. Just doing a little clean up from the other night," Finn assures him.

Kenneth looks at the badge and then back up at Finnegan's face, smiling. "If I'm not in trouble, then it's optional whether I want to talk to you or not, right?" he asks.

Finn's brows raise, as if surprised that the other man wouldn't be willing to invite him in. "Well, that's why I asked, isn't it? But if you don't say yes, then that might raise some questions, and then I'll have to go to all the trouble of getting a warrant to bring you downtown, and you know, that's a whole lot of work that I'd rather not have to do, you know? And I am pretty sure you would rather it be a bit more casual than that, right? Rather than the whole rigamarole of formal questioning."

Kenneth narrows his eyes a little, but he goes on smiling. "Well, you don't have to threaten me," he says. "But you didn't even tell me what your name is. And I haven't done anything wrong."

"Agent Finnegan," Finn says, offering his hand and pushing the badge back into his pocket. "It's not a threat, just a reality. Red tape sucks for everyone, and like you said, you're not in trouble, so why go through all of that, right?"

He gestures to the apartment. "I'd rather your neighbors didn't get an earful. Can I come in? I just have a few questions."

Kenneth gives Finnegan's hand a shake. "Fine," he says, opening the door to let the guy in. "But I don't want to be threatened again. You can't go around harrassing innocent citizens and trying to scare them."

"Duly noted," Finnegan says, pulling out a little notepad and pencil. May as well play the part. "I'm sorry you feel threatened. It wasn't my intent at all. Shall we?" he asks, moving to whatever chair-like surface he finds inside the apartment.

"The other day you were at Fremont Street when we were trying to apprehend a particular individual. Did you know the suspect at all, sir?" he asks, glancing around the apartment for a moment before looking back at Kenneth.

There are a couple of chairs and a sofa. Ken goes to sit in a chair. "How should I know?" he wonders. "I just saw someone run past. I didn't get a look at him, so I don't know /who/ it was."

"Guy named Stater," says Finnegan. He flips to the back of the small notebook, pulling out a small wallet-sized photograph that he then passes to Kenneth. "Know him at all?" The agent watches Kenneth's face for any changes in expression.

Kenneth shakes his head, looking over the image with bored eyes. "Nope," he concludes. "I don't think I know him."

"Worth a try," Finnegan says, taking the photograph back. "Joshua, Josh, if you know him by that name?" he asks, looking for any spark of recognition.

"Well," he continues. "What we know is this: when we retrieved his briefcase, it was missing some items that we expected to be in it. Some pretty important items, as it turns out, and we really need those items. You wouldn't happen to have any idea where those went, would you? Say, a thumb drive or two?" His brows lift as he watches Kenneth carefully.

Kenneth tilts his head curiously at Finnegan. "I don't know any Joshua Stater, but if he's a criminal, I guess he could've gone by any name." He smiles. "Thumb drive? Well, what was on it?"

Finnegan tips his head curiously. "That's an odd answer to that question, Mr. Rose. Are you in the habit of collecting thumb drives that don't belong to you that you need to ask what's on it to know if you've seen it or not? Tell me, did you happen to pick up anything of the sort that day on Fremont Street? If you did, I'll have to ask you to hand them over. The sooner, the better, I'll add," he says.

Kenneth lifts his eyebrows. "I just want to know what this is all about, Agent Finnegan. I mean, am I in danger just because I was on the street that day? Are you tracking down everybody who was there? Should I be watching out for terrorists?"

There's a patient smile and Finnegan shakes his head. "No worrying about terrorists, I promise. We are investigating a few people that were on the street that day, but simply to retrieve this information. Unless we meet with resistance, which could then be considered an impediment to the legal process. At the minimum."

He closes the notebook. "The information is classified and of no use to the general public, but we do need to retrieve it. Now. I ask you again if you have any knowledge of seeing any such drives that night on Fremont Street, or if you happen to have picked up anything of the like?"

"I did pick up a drive," Kenneth says, smiling. "But there you go threatening me again. You law enforcement types are so passive-aggressive. But who wants to use this information? If you could find me, do you think they could?" He lofts his brows again.

Finnegan's brows rise and he smiles. "Now we're getting somewhere. We're not certain who Stater was trying to get the information to, so it's hard to say, but it's unlikely they have the resources that we do. Also, for your cooperation, we could offer you protection, but really, if they are that savvy that they know where to find you, they'd likely learn pretty quickly that you already gave back the drive. Any danger posed to you will transfer to me."

His hand comes out again. "As long as you give it back, and any copies you might have made of the information, of course. I don't have to tell you, I'm sure, that everything technological can leave a trail, and if you want to be sure to be safe, it's in your best interest to be sure to give everything you have to me."

"That's true," Ken agrees. "I don't have the drive on me, though. I found it on the street and I brought it home, but there was something wrong with it. I couldn't get it to work with my computer. I figured that since it wasn't a regular flashdrive, it might've been something that somebody lost, so I put it in my safe deposit box at the bank. We can go down there and get it if you want. I guess there's no reward, huh?"

Finnegan smiles and begins to rise. "That's very kind of you. I'll tell you what. We'll go get it and if it's one of Stater's, I'll see if my superiors can reward you for your cooperation and help. I do appreciate it, certainly." He gestures to the door. "Shall we? Want me to call a cab, or would you rather walk?" Since he had been tailing Kenneth on foot.

Kenneth smiles, too. He gets up and stretches. "Oh, we can probably walk. I picked a bank that was nearby when I moved in." He heads for the door. "I bet they won't reward me, though. You never really get rewarded for doing anything just because it's good." He leads Finnegan downstairs and across the street toward the bank.

A wallet comes out and is peered into. There's no cash, from the looks of it. A Starbucks card and a $100 casino chip are pulled out and handed to Kenneth. "Best I can do on short notice. There's at least fifteen bucks on that big boy," Finn says with a broad grin.

Kenneth chuckles and finishes the laugh with a grin, readily taking the items and pocketing them. "That's sweet," he says. "Thank you." He heads to the bank and asks for his safety deposit box. The only thing in there seems to be the drive. This he hands over to Agent Finnegan. "Here you go," he says cheerfully.

"Thank you, Mr. Rose," says Finn, offering a hand to shake again. "Hopefully your next week will be a bit less exciting, hm?"

The agent gives a loose two-fingered salute before heading for the bank doors and hailing a cab.

"Well, if /you/ ever have a boring week, I bet you have a whole dossier on how you can get in touch with me," Kenneth returns, whatever he means by that. Then he goes back to squaring away the now-empty deposit box.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License