Hostile Witness Ch. 01

Susan O'Connell sat in her chair and worked to keep her anger under control. She took a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of her uniform collar tight around her neck and the stiff fabric pressing back against her shoulders as the flexed unconsciously in frustration. "Calm Susan" she told herself "It won't help the case if you punch out the defence attorney." She opened her eyes and looked at the man in the expensive suit who stood in front of her. "Could you repeat the question please." She said in a clear, no-nonsense voice, her face unmoving despite the anger that bubbled just below the surface.

"Officer O'Connell" the man said in as condescending a voice as he could safely use in the court room. "How long have you been an officer with the LAPD?"

"3 years with the force, and several more with the auxiliary." She replied, clenching her hands upon her legs. She was new to the force, but not new to policing. It was all that she had lived for the past 15 years, ever since that night when her father hadn't come home from his shift.

"And it was in your capacity as a police officer that you overheard my client allegedly discuss potential criminal dealings with a suspected member of the Russian Mafia, is that correct?"

"Yes, I heard the defendant, Wilson Luthor speaking to a known Russian mob kingpin about the introduction of drugs and weapons through the port of Los Angeles." Her mind flashed back to that night, that moment when she knew that she finally had him. All of the years of hard work and suffering had been worth it to hear those few sentences.

"In what capacity of your duties were you acting when this alleged conversation occurred?" the lawyer continued.

"I was undercover at the time." Susan replied, repressing a small shudder.

"Actually, you were not under much at all, am I correct? In fact, you were working as a stripper in a gentleman's club where Mr. Luthor is well known as the owner." The man stated, straightening his tie and looking around with a grin.

Susan took another deep breath, and looked over at the prosecution's table. The asshole A-DA was just sitting there, his head propped in his hands and a dreamy expression on his face. "Prick is imagining what I looked like instead of doing his fucking job." She seethed inwardly. Her eyes slid off of the vacant expression of the man to the woman sitting beside him. They made eye contact and Susan twitched her head. The young woman elbowed the daydreaming Assistant District Attorney sharply in the ribs.

"Ugh" he exclaimed as his eyes came back into focus and he glanced sharply at his co-counsel. He stood up, straightening his expensive suit "The prosecution objects your honour" he said with a drawling Boston accent. "What the nature of Officer O'Connell's undercover identity was does not matter." The Judge nodded "Objection sustained."

The defence attorney continued "Officer O'Connell, am I to understand that there is no recording of this conversation?"

Prick "No, there isn't unfortunately." Susan replied.

"Probably because there was no where to hide a microphone I would guess. I withdraw the statement, your honour."

Susan's gaze slid from the lawyer to the man sitting at the table behind him, calm and almost bored with the proceedings. Wilson Luthor was THE crime boss in Los Angeles and controlled most of the western seaboard. Between his connections, his intelligence and his ruthlessness, there was almost nothing to tie him to the criminal empire he had run for the last 10 years, until today. Today, he was going down for everyone he had hurt and Susan was going to make sure it happened.

Hours later, Susan stood under the hot shower trying to wash off the filth she still felt stuck to her from that courtroom. She ran her hands through her length dark hair and turned her face up to the stream letting the water run over her face and down her body. The memoires came back, unbidden like they always did. Her dad had been a cop in the LAPD, and when she was 10 she remembered waking late one night to find her mother crying on the floor. Two officers were standing in the door and had just told her that her husband had been killed in a shoot out. Someone had gone to jail, a Mexican illegal had come forward and confessed to the killing. He got a life sentence, and his family got a life in the U.S., but everyone knew that he didn't do it. The LAPD was incredibly corrupt at that time, and Wilson Luthor was a mid-level thug in the gang of the man who owned most of that corruption. With someone in jail and no support to dig deeper, Susan's father got his funeral, and she got her mission. 12 years later, she was sworn in as an officer of the LAPD and she made it her life's work to get assigned to any case involving Wilson Luthor. When they were trying to figure out how to get a wire into the club, she had volunteered to go in herself as a waitress. When she couldn't get close to Wilson in his private booth, she tried out at Amateur Night and got hired on as a dancer. Anything to get what she needed to put away her father's murderer.

She turned off the shower and stepped out, toweling herself off the brisk no-nonsense manner she did everything. She had just stepped out of the bathroom when her cell phone rang. She recognized the caller as the pretty A-DA from this afternoon and picked it up. "What the fuck do you mean a mistrial!"

Half an hour later, Susan was sitting in a booth at O'Malley's pub, a well-known cop bar. She was on her third drink when a woman slid into the bench across from her. Susan looked up in anger then recognized the youthful and energetic face of Veronica McNaughton, probably the only person she considered a friend in the city. Veronica and Susan had met in college when they were both in the same Criminology course. Susan was taking it to be a cop, Veronica was on the first step to being a lawyer and despite their differences they hit it off. Veronica's outgoing and energetic personality dragged Susan up from the dark place she had been in for years, and out to several bars and nightclubs. Meanwhile, Susan's well developed Resting Bitch Face helped get Veronica out of more than one awkward situation after too many drinks and too much dancing.

Where Susan was dark and brooding, wearing leggings and sweats with her hair in a ponytail, Veronica was bright and sunny. She had short, professional blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and her clothes were always just this side of respectable. Their friendship had grown over the years, Veronica was the only person in the audience clapping when Susan got her badge, and Susan was the only person Veronica trusted to talk about life as a young attractive A-DA in the male dominated District Attorney's office. It had been Veronica who came to Susan's aid this afternoon, and who was the focus of her rage right now.

"What the fuck happened?" Susan blurted out. "We had him, we had everything. Now he is going to walk!" she shouted, banging the table with her fist.

"No, no" Veronica said in a practiced, calming tone, putting both of her hands gently over Susan's trembling fist. "He is not going to walk; he is not going anywhere. It is the fault of that arrogant prick Chad. Apparently, he is in debt to someone in Luthor's organization for about $5,000. Probably drugs, but no proof. All I know is that a message was sent to the DA and Chad got pulled off of the case."

"So now what" Susan barked.

"Now we have a new trial with a new judge and jury. That's all." Veronica soothed, like she was speaking to an angry tiger.

"Will you be the lead this time?" Susan asked, slowly calming down.

"No, I am still too junior to handle a case like this." Veronica replied. "But I did convince the DA that the evidence is too valuable to be left in the office. If Luthor can get Chad, who else can he get. All of the evidence now travels with me." And she patted a briefcase beside her. "Don't worry, we will get him. It will just take a little more time."

Susan did her calming exercises while Veronica watched her worriedly. She ordered another whisky and Veronica joined her with a white wine and together they drank their frustrations away. An hour later, Susan got up to leave and Veronica walked her out. "Can I get you a cab?" she asked.

"No, I'll walk. I need to think. Thanks." Susan replied and shoving her hands in the pockets of her windbreaker started off down the street. She had only gone a couple of blocks when something out of the ordinary caught her eye, a large car where no large car had a right to be. She paused, and gasped as she saw Wilson Luthor get out of the car and go down an alley. "What the hell is he doing here?" she wondered, and pulled out her phone to call the night dispatcher.

"Dispatch, this is officer O'Connell. I can't believe but Wilson Luthor is right here. I am going to follow him".

"Negative O'Connell" the dispatcher replied. "You are not on duty and you are alone, do not engage."

Susan seethed "Fucking hell with that! I have been given a chance and I am going to take it. Luthor is not going to walk again. I am signing off and when I call back, we will finally have this guy forever!"

Susan killed her phone to keep any incoming calls from giving her away and moved over to the alley. She glanced down and saw Luthor talking to someone in the shadows. She crept slowly down, her rubber soled sneakers making no noise on the pavement. She crouched behind a dumpster and peeked around. She could hear voices, but couldn't make them out. As she leaned out further, she sensed something behind her and spun around. It was too late, the light from the street lamp glistened off of the syringe that the shadowy figure plunged into her neck. A burning sensation flooded her body, and then she collapsed onto the pavement. The last thing she saw was a pair of expensive shoes step in front of her face. "Put her in the trunk and clean up the scene." She heard Luthor say, and blackness overtook her.

She woke slowly to a pounding headache and the feeling of carpet under her face. She opened her eyes and shook her head, instantly regretting it. Once her head stopped spinning, she opened her eyes again and took in the room around her. She was in what looked like an empty office, the cheap carpet stretched to the wall, interrupted only by an office chair a few feet in front of her. "Welcome back" a deep voice said, a voice she knew all to well. She turned her head and saw a desk. She struggled, and realized that her hands were bound behind her. She felt the edge of the zip tie biting into her skin. Awkwardly she rolled to a kneeling position and tried to stand, but fell back to one knee.

"Don't try to move" the voice advised. "It will be a few more minutes before the drug flushes out of your synapses and you get control of your muscles again." She heard feet moving toward her and strong hands grasped under her arms, pulling her up into a chair behind her. She looked up and saw the face of a woman looking down at her. She had red hair, styled in long curls that framed her face, and her eyes and lips were done in a gaudy makeup style that just screamed hooker. Susan looked around, she was indeed in an empty office, Wilson Luthor sat behind a cheap office desk and the only other furniture was the chair she sat in and the empty one across from her. She turned to look at the man who had kidnapped her. He sat there, hands steepled in his usual manner, cold eyes boring into her over his finger tips. As always, he was in a perfectly tailored suit and tie with his hair slicked back and his beard neatly trimmed.

"I must congratulate you, officer O'Connell. No one has ever gotten as close to me as you did." He said in an even tone. "Of course, I guess few people are as motivated as you are. I have dealt with undercover police before, but never one so willing to debase themselves for a case."

Susan glared at him "What do you expect to achieve here, Luthor. Assaulting an officer and forcible confinement would be a significant addition to the conspiracy charges you are already facing."

Luthor smiled, a smile that did not touch his eyes but one that looked like he had practiced in a mirror. "Oh, I am not worried officer, no one knows we are here."

"I called it in before I followed you." Susan boasted. "If I disappear you will be the last person I interacted with and they will take you down so hard you will bounce twice."

"Oh yes dear, I know you called it in." he replied, almost bored, and pushed a button on the desk. A few seconds later the door opened and a man walked in. The word weasel immediately popped into Susan's head, but also, she knew him from somewhere. She scrutinized his face, trying to place him when Wilson spoke again. "Yes, my dear, I am sure that you have met Mr. Trask. He is the dispatcher that took your call last night."

Last night? Only now did Susan notice that the blinds had been pulled and there was sunlight streaming around the edges of the window. "Do you think I just happened to be parked outside an alley within walking distance of your favorite drinking establishment?" Luthor said in an almost bored tone. "This encounter was carefully arranged to ensure that Mr. Trask here was on duty when your call came in."

Susan started to worry, this wasn't the amateur snatch and intimidate that she had been trained on at the Academy. "It doesn't matter who took the call" she said, "all communications are monitored and recorded. They know where I was and what I was doing."

Luthor chuckled, and Trask snorted with distain. "Ms. O'Connell, one of Mr. Trask's many talents is he is a software engineer. He had quite a good career before some problems required him to leave his job and take, shall we say a less prestigious one as a police dispatcher." Luthor picked up what looked like a recorder and pushed a button, Susan heard he voice play back;

"Dispatch, this is officer O'Connell. I can't believe but Wilson Luthor is right here. I am going to follow him".

"Negative O'Connell. You are not on duty and you are alone, do not engage."

"Fucking hell with that! I have been given a chance and I am going to take it. Luthor is not going to walk again. I am signing off and when I call back we will finally have this guy forever!"

Luthor stopped the playback. "That is what was sent to your dispatch last night. After some minor tweaks thanks to Mr. Trask here, this is what now resides on your servers."

Susan heard her voice again, a bit disjointed as if she was drunk and slurring her words;

"Dispatch, this is officer O'Connell. I can't believe..Luthor is going to walk again. Fucking hell with that, I am signing off...forever."

Luthor switched off the player and put it down on the desk, seepling his fingers again. "Several people saw you leave that bar quite intoxicated. A ticket from Los Angeles to Mexico was purchased with your credit card last night. At this moment, one of my employees and a woman who looks very like you are on their way for a well-deserved vacation. Unfortunately, while they are there, she will rent a boat to go snorkeling and she won't come back."

Susan stared in horror at Luthor, then at Trask. "You can't do this" she blurted. "I am an officer with the LAPD, you work there!"

Trask threw himself in the chair across from her "Damn right I work there, bitch. You don't even remember me do you. Christmas party, 2 years ago, you almost broke my fucking hand and I got 6 months probation."

Susan remembered, it was her first year on the force and there was a precinct Christmas party at O'Malley's. Trask had gotten drunk and grabby and she had put him on the floor before she knew what was happening. "That's right, that's what happens when a guy tries to be friendly to a stuck-up bitch like you." He leaned forward, she could smell his breath from here. "Now, thanks to you I am back." And he looked over at Luthor who nodded his head.

The woman who had been standing beside him moved to pick up a small tray from the table. She had been so innocuous that Susan had forgotten totally about her but now she studied her. The woman was probably in her mid 30's, but still in excellent shape. She was tall, about 6' plus the gaudy high heel stripper shoes she was wearing. Red stockings ran up to a garter belt that wrapped around her narrow waist and a tight red corset pushed her tits up and out for Trask to leer at. She had a scared expression and glanced down at Luthor who waived her forward. She walked up to Trask, unsteady on her sky-high heels and offered him the tray. Susan could see it held a syringe with a cloudy liquid.

"Ahhhh, the good stuff." Trask sighed as he picked up the syringe with one hand and slid his hand around the ass of the woman with the other. He pulled her down onto his lap as his hand moved from her ass to slide between her legs, crudely groping her.

"Just wait there a second honey" he said while ogling her ample breasts "I will be right with you." He extended his arm and took the cap off the needle, inserting it into his vein with practiced ease. He pushed the plunger and his eyes rolled back as the drug entered his system. He slapped the hooker on her ass and spread his legs. "Alright bitch, get to work" he muttered as he slid back in the chair. The woman awkwardly eased herself down on her knees between his legs and started to fumble with his belt. She had just gotten his belt undone and unzipped his pants when Trask started to have a seizure.

All of her uncertainty and gracelessness was gone as she stood smoothly and moved away from where the man was in the middle of an overdose. She strode with ease back to where Luthor sat and perched herself on the edge of the desk, regarding Trask with indifferent eyes. "I hate it when you make me do this, it is demeaning." She said with a trace of a British accent.

"My apologies Mercy." Luthor said, and even appeared to mean it "there is no one else I would trust with this." Susan stared wide eyed as Trask slid out of the chair onto the floor, his body twitching with the final stages of his death. His wide eyes focused on her, then went blank and he was still.

"Heroin, such a tricky drug to get right. Especially when you insist on 'the good stuff'" Luthor said with a complete lack of emotion, and he pushed the button on his desk. Two men walked in, picked up Trask's body and carried it out of the room. "Now, Ms. O'Connell, I hope you understand your position. Your department thinks you have quit in a drunken rage and in two days will have died in Mexico. The only person who knew the truth has just been dragged out the door. You no longer exist."

Mercy stood up, and picked up another syringe from the desk. She walked over to where Susan sat, helpless in the chair and jabbed it into her neck. Susan felt the familiar burning again as her muscles gave out and she slumped down. "Don't worry dear" Mercy whispered "Just for a few hours, then we have work to do." The last thing Susan O'Connell felt was Mercy's warm tongue run itself up the side of her neck.

Susan awoke with a moan, her head was pounding worse than before. She moaned and tried to sit up, but her head spun so badly that she gave up, pressing her face against the cool floor. In fact, she could feel the cool floor everywhere and quickly realized that she was naked. Shaking off her lethargy, she pushed herself up onto her knees surprised to find that her hands were free. She looked around and saw that she was in a cell of some kind. A bed was bolted to the floor along one wall, and a steel sink and toilet was in the other corner. Light streamed in from a window high above her and a quick painful glance showed that it was barred and sealed with safety glass. There was a steel door on the far wall with a small window and what looked like a food slot. She pushed herself up onto her feet, supporting herself against the wall as she moved toward the door. She had just about reached it when she heard a key turning in a lock and it swung open. She winced as light streamed into the otherwise dim cell and saw what looked like the silhouette of a large woman. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that she was indeed correct. The woman who stood before her was black, at least 6 feet tall and well proportioned, with large breasts, a narrow waist and strong legs. She was also naked save for a collar around her neck.