The Tainted Trust

by Stephen Douglass

  September 13. Four, P.M.

  Mike ran to his car and returned an urgent call from Dan Turner. “Margaret said your call was urgent,” he said, struggling to catch his breath.

  “It was. I just got a call from Thomas Hinkin. He did not have good news. We were too late. Visconti scooped everything. To punctuate his timing, he told Hinkin to fuck himself.”

  “That’s just wonderful,” Mike groaned. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “Well I suggest you buckle up. You have no choice. You should also know that Kerri just told me he’s leaving for Europe today, and that she’s going with him.”

  “I’ll call you right back,” Mike said, his mind racing to process the implications of the new equation. He hung up and dialed Visconti’s office number, a mixture of rage and anxiety boiling inside him.

  “Long time no talk to, Mike,” Visconti sang. “How the hell are you?”

  “Where’s the money?”

  “In a very safe place. I used it to make a fabulous investment for the benefit of your trust. I know you’re going to like it.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “We bought all the outstanding shares of a tremendously promising company. It’s called Forta Equitas. I’ll send you a prospectus with my next quarterly report.”

  “No bull-shit, Visconti! Where’s the money.”

  Visconti chuckled. “I’ll tell you a little secret. A decade ago Alfred Schnieder told me the whole nasty story about Phillip’s natural father. I was amazed when he told me how Jim Servito managed to accumulate a fortune by evading gasoline taxes. Alfred also told me your dirty little secret. He said you had decided to keep the money. You’re a bad boy. You really should have turned it over to the Feds, like a good honest citizen. Withholding hundreds of millions of tax dollars is a very serious crime… Now, before I let you go, allow me to give you some friendly advice. If you even think about breathing a word about this to anyone, I’ll blow the whistle on you and Karen so fast you won’t even have time to take a nervous shit.”

  “I promise you’ll regret this,” Mike said, then terminated the call and pressed the redial for Turner’s office. He told Turner the story of his conversation with Visconti. “I concede, Dan. Visconti wins. That money’s cursed. It’s been nothing but misery for anyone who’s had anything to do with it. I’m going to wash my hands of it and let it ruin Visconti’s life,” he said.

  “So be it, but I must remind you that the Feds are still breathing fire. What about Phillip?”

  “I’m going to tell him everything, including Visconti’s plan to kill him. We’re probably going to have to hide him somewhere.”

  “Good luck and stay in touch.”

  Mike terminated the call, then called Kerri. “Hi… I hope your day’s been better than mine.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Dan Turner just told me Hinkin was too late.”

  “Damn! Did he find out what Louis did with the money?”

  “No. I did. I phoned Louis and he told me he used it to buy the shares of a company called Forta Equitas. He made it obvious that the move was nothing but a scam to scoop the money. I hope he rots in hell.”

  “I’m going to make sure he does because I’m going to hell with him.”

  “Kerri, you can’t. It’s far too dangerous. If he’s prepared to kill Phillip, he won’t hesitate to kill you, too.”

  “I don’t care how dangerous he is. I’m going to follow him everywhere he goes. If it takes me the rest of my life, I’m going to stop him.”

  Mike was brutally reminded of his own resolve to stop Jim Servito, a long time ago. No amount of convincing would have changed his mind. “Is there any way I can convince you not to go?”

  “No.”

  “Then be careful and call me collect, as often as you can. And remember that I love you.”

  “I will. I love you too, dad.”

  CHAPTER 89

  Toronto. Friday, September 14. Nine, A.M.

  Phillip entered Mike’s office. He had a new mission. “I had to come to the office to pick up my paycheck… So, I thought I would drop in and ask if you gave the money to your charity,” he said, his hands in his pockets and squirming uneasily.

  Mike looked up, glared at him, then threw his pen to the desk. “It might surprise you to learn that your friend Visconti spent the last ten years losing almost half of your money in senseless investments. To complete the job, he’s embezzled what’s left of it and fucked off to Europe.”

  “How do you know?” Phillip asked, stunned, disappointed and astonished that Visconti would do such a thing, and that Mike would know.

  “I called him earlier today. He took perverse pleasure in rubbing it in my face.” Mike pointed to the couch. “Sit down. I have something far more important to tell you.” He waited until Phillip was seated, then leveled his eyes at his step-son. “You should also know that Visconti has a hundred thousand dollar contract on your life. He wants you dead.”

  Phillip flashed a nervous smile. “I think you’re full of shit! There’s no way he’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna…”

  “He’s going to do what, help you get your money? I know all about your little agreement with Visconti. I also know you had no intention of ever changing your mind about the money… Maybe Visconti would be doing me a favor,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.

  Tears appeared in Phillip’s eyes as he clenched his teeth and fists. “I hate your guts!” he shouted. “You were never a father to me. You were always more interested in messing with my life.” He pointed his index finger at Mike. “Now I’m going to mess with yours.” He sprang to his feet, ran from the office and headed for his company van. He slammed the door, started the engine and jerked the gearshift into drive. He stomped the accelerator to the floor with his foot, causing the rear wheels to screech as they laid strips of rubber on the parking lot. “I’ll show those bastards!” he muttered, his eyes glazed, his fingers applying a death grip on the steering wheel.

  Slightly over an hour later, Phillip once again faced David Savage in the regional office of Revenue Canada. Savage had turned on a tape recorder in anticipation of what his visitor was about to say. “Now Mister Servito, you said you had something to tell me,” he prompted.

  Phillip nodded, his face still crimson with anger. “Yah. You remember I told you I might know where the money my real father left me is? Well all of a sudden I found it.” He paused, grinning at Savage and taking sadistic pleasure in the delay.

  “You found it! Where?” Savage asked, prompting with his hands, urging Phillip to continue.

  “My stepfather’s been hiding it all these years. It’s in a trust in New York.”

  “Where in New York?”

  “Louis Visconti manages it. He works for a company by the name of Mara, Griesdorf and Visconti. His office is in the World Trade Center.”

  “How were you able to find it?” Savage asked, continuing to prompt with his hands.

  “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that Visconti scooped all of the money and went to Europe with it.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “My stepfather just told me.”

  “How does he know?”

  “Visconti just ruined his day with that news,” Phillip hissed, frowning in frustration. “I think it was yesterday.”

  “How do you know it was yesterday?”

  “Because that’s what my stepfather just told me.”

  “Do you or your stepfather know where in Europe Louis Visconti went?”

  “I don’t, and I don’t know if he does or not.”

  “Do you have anything further to add?” Savage asked, disappointed not to have gleaned any further knowledge.

  “Nope. I think that’s it.”

  “Does anyone else know of the existence or location of this money?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Does your stepfather know you’re talking to us?”

&n
bsp; “Nope.”

  “Thank you, Mister Servito. You’ve been most helpful. I’m sure others in this department will want to talk to you about this. Are you still at the same address?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re free to go now.”

  Phillip climbed into his van and headed west on the Gardiner Expressway. He was startled to hear a hoarse male voice, close to his right ear. “Don’t turn around or I’ll blow your ear off, kid. I have a gun pointed right at it.”

  Terrified, Phillip glanced in the rear view mirror to see a man wearing dark sun glasses. His long straight gray hair extended below a light brown fedora. His teeth were crooked and stained. A large dimple punctuated his chin.

  “Just keep driving this thing until I tell you to stop.”

  Phillip’s body stiffened. While he focused on the road with his eyes, his mind focused on the gut-wrenching possibility that Mike’s warning was valid. He was going to die.

  His passenger forced him to continue driving until he entered an auto wrecking yard in the northeast end of Hamilton. Following orders, he drove behind a large corrugated metal building. The adjacent yard was strewn with rusted metal, the ground saturated with an ugly mixture of oil and water. “Stop right here and get out,” the man bellowed.

  His heart pounding, body shaking, knees close to buckling, Phillip stopped the van and climbed out. His passenger followed him out the same door, then pointed his gun at Phillip’s heart and pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. As the bullets pierced his heart, Phillip’s body jerked violently, then slumped to the ground. The man lifted the lifeless body into the van, then drove to the side door of the metal building. Two men hurried from the building, removed the body from the van, and carried it inside. There, the wounds were exposed, the body photographed, then stuffed into a heavy steel drum. The drum was sealed, then hydraulically crushed to a fraction of its original size. The crushed drum was dropped into a second steel drum which was subsequently filled with cement, then sealed.

  The drum was driven to a wharf and loaded onto a small fishing vessel. The vessel traversed Burlington Bay and headed under the Burlington Skyway, eastward into Lake Ontario. When it was almost out of sight of land, the drum was committed to the deep.

  CHAPTER 90

  New York. Friday, September 14, 9:00 A.M.

  Six men, three from the F.B.I., and three from the Criminal Investigation Division of the I.R.S., burst into the offices of Mara, Griesdorf and Visconti. After three hours of frantic searching and intensive questioning of all available personnel, they found nothing, no trust, no money, and no Visconti. Sue Franklin, Visconti’s secretary, subjected to intensive interrogation, was unable to explain the mysterious disappearance of the money and all of the files related to the trust. She said her boss had told her he was leaving for a short European vacation.

  Toronto.

  Dan Turner placed an urgent call to Mike at ten-thirty. “I have some extremely bad news,” he said, pausing to allow his point to sink in. “William Dare, an attorney and two other heavy hitters from Revenue Canada came in here this morning and made such a stink about wanting to see me, I had to cancel a meeting. They told me Phillip paid them another visit yesterday and sang like a bird. He told them you’ve known for ten years of the existence and location of Jim Servito’s money. Significantly, he didn’t mention his mother. He went on to tell them the trust was managed by Louis Visconti, and that Visconti’s disappeared to Europe with the money.”

  Mike closed his eyes and exhaled. “I guess the game’s over. Why the hell didn’t they just come over here and arrest me?” he asked, his mind in a spiritless state of surrender.

  “They said that in view of their past mistakes in this case, they wanted to be absolutely certain… Why did Phillip do that, Mike? Obviously something provoked him.”

  “I lost it, Dan. He came in here yesterday and asked if I had given his money to charity. I told him everything, including Visconti’s plan to kill him.”

  “How did he respond?”

  “He was mad as hell. He said he was going to mess up my life. Then he blew out of here.”

  “Well Dare and his boys are mad as hell, too. They smell blood, and I don’t think they’re going to stop until they get it.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  I said I wasn’t acting for Phillip and could not account in any way for his behavior, or his claims. When they asked about you, I told them I wasn’t prepared to comment until I had an opportunity to consult with you. Needless to say they want to talk to you as soon as possible.”

  “I can’t believe it! That money is a cancer.”

  “Well you had better believe it, and it’s metastasizing, fast.”

  “What are my options? I really need your advice, Dan”

  “Tell the truth. Admit you were aware of the existence and location of the trust from its inception. Then add that you had recently decided to turn the entire amount over to them and the American government. Tell them you asked me to be your intermediary, but you were prevented from proceeding by Louis Visconti. I will certainly corroborate.”

  “Where does that take me?”

  “… They’ll prosecute. You’ll be fined and assessed with back taxes, possibly do some time. It’s difficult to tell at this point. It all depends on how they view your actions. What you’ve done is very unique. You were not the one who stole the money. In reality, all you did was to follow the wishes of Phillip’s natural father, albeit with malicious intent.”

  “Do I have any other option?”

  “Yes… I almost hesitate to suggest it… You could disappear and hope some miracle happens to end this thing. You must understand if you do that, your disappearance is tantamount to admission of guilt. When the Feds realize you’ve gone, they’ll come after you with everything they’ve got. If they find you, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”

  “Maybe I should just blow my brains out.”

  “That’s not an option and you know it,” Turner admonished. “There is a positive aspect of the second option. Your absence is reversible. In other words, it’s the least final of all of your options. If the Feds can’t find you or the money, they might tend to be more amenable to negotiation.”

  “How much time do I have?”

  “The meter’s running fast. You could look for a subpoena within hours.”

  “I’ll let you know what I’ve decided.” Devastated and deprived of all human consolation, Mike hung up and began to consider his future, all of which was extremely unpalatable. Jim Servito’s money had once again become the main focus of his existence. Miserably unhappy, unwilling and unable to continue his work, he picked up his briefcase and left for home and Karen, invariably his emotional salvation.

  “It looks like you could use a friend,” she whispered, pulling Mike closer.”

  He held Karen’s head close to his chest and wept. “If God had prescribed a worse nightmare, I can’t imagine what it would be… It’s Phillip. He went to the Feds and told them the whole damn story, and it’s my fault… I unloaded on him yesterday… He came into my office and asked if I had given the money away.”

  “Did you tell him everything?”

  Mike nodded. “I couldn’t think of any other way.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless and guilty in my entire life. Every time I do what I think is the right thing, it gets worse.”

  “Does Dan know?”

  “Yup. The Feds nearly broke his door down this morning. I’m in big trouble. I have two options. You won’t like either of them.”

  Karen gave Mike an understanding smile. “There’s only one choice, King. We run.”

  Mike shook his head. “They want me, Babe. Fortunately, Phillip didn’t implicate you.”

  “Doesn’t matter a damn to me. We’re in this thing together. We’ve been there since the beginning.”

  Again he shook his head. For better or worse, his decisi
on to hide from the Feds had been made. “I love you for your loyalty, but you don’t go. I’m going to need you here. I need to hide alone. Somewhere quiet.”

  “Go to Azimuth Island. There’s no one there now. There’s enough food in the freezer to last for months. No one would find you there until you decide to be found. I’ll have to tell dad you’re there. I wouldn’t want it to come as a surprise to him.”

  Mike’s frown melted to a grin. “That’s a perfect place. Can you stand living without me?”

  “No.”

  He kissed her forehead, then looked into her eyes. “Thank you for being the most incredibly wonderful woman I’ve ever known, and for putting up with all of my crap.”

  Karen left Mike’s embrace to answer the telephone. “Yes,” she said without hesitation, accepting the collect call. She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Mike. “It’s Kerri. She’s in France.”

  Mike hurried to accept the receiver from Karen. “Kerri, are you all right?” he shouted, his heart pounding.

  “I’m okay. I’m…”

  “Don’t say anything more. Give me one minute to get to my car, then call me again. Do you have the number?”

  “Yes. Please hurry. I don’t have much time.”

  Mike hung up, ran from the house to his car and waited. When the phone rang, he jerked it to his ear before the first ring had ended and accepted the charges. “Kerri, now talk your heart out,” he demanded.

  “I’m at a pay telephone at the airport in Nice. Louis is getting the bags. He’s going to rent a car and drive us to Monte Carlo from here. We’ll be staying at the Hotel de Paris. I’ll call you from there as soon as I get a chance. I’m going to nail him, dad. I’m going to stay with him until I do. I don’t care how long it takes… How’s Phillip?”

  “Right now, I don’t know. You should know he went to the Feds and told them the whole story yesterday.”

  “Oh no! Why? Was it because of Louis?”