by Al Lamanda
When he was done, Paul closed the file. He sipped from his mug and looked at me. “It certainly is enough to open an investigation,” he said.
“Investigation my ass,” I said. “Walt is sitting in county lockup while we sit here drinking your gourmet coffee.”
“What do you suggest?” Paul said.
“We grab an FBI plane to Europe and bring his ass back for trial,” I said.
“We?” Paul said.
“It’s a hell of an arrest for the FBI and for you,” I said. “You get a really bad guy and Walt goes free. It’s a win-win for everybody.”
Paul looked at me and sighed.
“Oh, and this,” I said. I pulled the baggie with Reed’s hair in it from my jacket pocket. “Regan pulled it from him when he kidnapped her. The roots are intact for DNA testing.”
Paul looked at me.
“What more do you want, an engraved invitation from the Queen of England?” I said.
“I’ll need the tech boys to…” Paul said.
“We don’t need the tech boys,” I said. “All we need is an FBI jet.”
Paul sighed. “Let me call the boss,” he said.
* * *
Halfway across the Atlantic, I called Wally at his home in White Plains.
“Hi Mr. Bekker, I wasn’t expecting you to call,” Wally said. “I was just watching a show about lions on the…”
“Wally, listen carefully,” I said. “I need your help.”
“I’ll get dressed,” Wally said.
“No, not that kind of…” I said.
“I think better when I’m dressed,” Wally said. “Hold on.”
I looked at Paul. “He’s getting dressed,” I said.
“By all means,” Paul said.
I switched the phone to speaker while we waited.
“Okay, I’m back,” Wally said. “I’m missing a sock, though.”
“Never mind the… Wally, listen carefully,” I said.
“The lions just ate a gazelle,” Wally said.
“Wally, focus,” I said.
“Okay, okay, what do you need?” Wally said.
“Can you…” I said.
“I found the sock,” Wally said.
“For God’s sake, Wally. Focus,” I said.
“Okay, okay, I’m focused. What do you need me to do?” Wally said.
“Can you tell me which accounts Reed had that have been closed?” I said.
“Not without all the codes I gave you. Did you lose them?”
“No, Wally, I didn’t lose them,” I said. “Are you near a computer?”
“I have one in my home office,” Wally said.
“Are you in your home office?” I said.
“What, no. Oh, right, hold on,” Wally said.
I looked at Paul. His face showed disbelief. I shrugged.
“Okay, okay, I’m at my desk,” Wally said.
“I want you to check the accounts in Zurich, Germany and Prague,” I said.
“Okay, give me the account numbers and call me back in thirty minutes,” Wally said.
“Thirty minutes,” I said.
I hung up and Paul said, “In thirty minutes, we’ll be halfway to France.”
“What do you have to eat on this thing?” I said. “Neither of us has had breakfast.”
The galley was loaded with food. Paul nuked egg sandwiches and made fresh coffee. We also each had a large Danish and orange juice.
At the thirty-minute mark, I called Wally.
“Mr. Bekker, I checked the accounts,” Wally said.
I waited, counted to ten and then said, “And the results are?”
“What? Oh, yeah, the results,” Wally said. “Zurich and Switzerland have been closed, but the account in Prague is still active.”
“Thank you, Wally,” I said. “Thank you very much.”
“The lions got another one,” Wally said.
“They always do,” I said. “Goodnight, Wally.”
I hung up and looked at Paul.
“Prague it is,” Paul said.
Chapter Forty-six
Paul handed me a container of thick Czech coffee. We were inside a Prague undercover van that was parked across the street from the National Bank of Prague.
Two members of the Prague Police Department were in the van with us. They were high-ranking detectives and both spoke English.
Both were smoking Turkish unfiltered cigarettes.
“The bank opens in fifteen minutes,” one of the detectives said.
Surveillance cameras fed into a bank of monitors inside the van, and we watched them for signs of Reed.
“It’s been two days, how do you know he’ll show at all?” the other detective said.
“Because he wants his money,” I said. “He wants to close his account and go live the good life, and in order to close the account, he needs to be here in person to do it.”
“Jack,” Paul said.
We looked at the monitor. Wearing an expensive suit, Reed walked up the steps to the bank and waited for the doors to open.
One of the detectives picked up a radio.
“No,” I said. “On the way out.”
Reed was in the bank for over an hour.
I drank some of the Czech coffee. It went down like turpentine. The Prague detectives chain-smoked their Turkish cigarettes. We watched the monitor. I counted the number of steps from the sidewalk to the bank. There were thirty-five.
Then Reed finally appeared at the top of the steps.
I slid open the side door of the van and hopped out.
Paul and the two detectives followed.
We stood off to the side on the crowded sidewalk and watched as Reed started down the thirty-five steps.
When he reached the tenth step from the bottom I broke away.
Behind me I heard Paul say, “No, it’s his show.”
On the fifth step to the bottom, I cut in front of Reed.
For a moment, he was startled. Then recognition set in and his eyes went as wide as tea cups.
I grabbed Reed by the front of his suit jacket and pulled him close.
“Remember the story you told me about the two dogs?” I said. “Well, I’m not your average dog and I never submit.”
I flung Reed down the steps and he landed at Paul’s feet.
Paul looked up at me.
“Now let’s go get Walt out of jail,” I said.
About the Author
Al Lamanda is a native of New York City. His mystery novels include Dunston Falls, Walking Homeless, Running Homeless, Sunset, Sunrise, First Light, This Side of Midnight, With Six You Get Wally and Who Killed Joe Italiano?. He has been nominated for the Edgar Award and the Nero Award for his mysteries, and was selected as the 2017 Nero Award winner for his John Bekker crime novel, With Six You Get Wally.
