Baiting & Fishing

by Meredith Rae Morgan

  “I appreciated that, frankly. I did not then and do not now see myself as a criminal. I worked for Tonio because he had paid for my education and I felt I owed it to him. I was not aware until tonight that he had done the same for other girls. My guess is that the two other girls he left money to were doing much the same thing as me. I would bet their backgrounds were similar to mine. Tonio had lost his entire family in the Second World War and ended up alone in the world at the age of fourteen or fifteen. He had a soft spot for kids in similar circumstances. We were not his only couriers. He had a lot of people working for him.”

  She stood up and said, “I'm thirsty. Do you want some lemonade?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Ray waited in the dark for her to return. She put two glasses on the table and sat down, “Next question.”

  “Did you continue to work for Collonia after you married Wilson?”

  She nodded, “Yes. Roland never knew. It was a huge bone of contention between me and Aurelio. I wanted out of the business after I married Roland. Aurelio thought (correctly it turned out) that my new-found social prominence would make it easier for me to move merchandise and money, especially since Roland owned both a yacht that moved around the Caribbean and a private plane that went all over the world. Aurelio really got into that and eventually he started using his own planes a lot of the time. That was risky because drug smugglers use private planes and boats, and the feds watch their movements carefully. Anyway, Aurelio and I never did get along, and the fact that he wouldn't let me out of the business after I married Roland made our relationship even worse.”

  “Do you still work for him?”

  She paused, “Aurelio and I have a deal. When the Techtron thing started to unravel, I stopped altogether for a while because we expected the feds to dig through my history along with Roland's. They must not have looked at me too hard if they didn't come up with any of this stuff, especially since they could have subpoenaed my bank records and phone records. They never did, but I laid low for a while. Once we realized I was apparently not a target in their investigations, Aurelio started making demands on me again.

  “As I said, he's gone legit for the most part but he still has a few clients for whom he continues to make deliveries. A couple of his very regular clients liked me and they often asked specifically for me to move their really large purchases. One is a Portuguese man who is an art collector. The man has more paintings than the Louvre I think, and virtually all of them are masterpieces of some sort. He has been trying to talk me into marrying him for years.” She smiled with a look of genuine affection. “Even when I was already married.

  “Anyway, yes, I still make an occasional delivery for Aurelio. I think those special jobs are about the only remnant Aurelio has of his former art smuggling empire.”

  “Is that where you go when you disappear?”

  “Sometimes, although more often when I go away it is to a getaway house in the Bahamas. I'll take you there sometime. It's my special retreat when I need to go somewhere I can breathe. It actually belongs to Aurelio, but he rarely uses it.”

  They were both quiet for a long time. Ray knew that as difficult as the conversation had been, they were now moving into even more treacherous waters, “Why did you resurrect Marcia Pappas in 2000? You already had a backup identity.”

  “Yes and no. M. V. Papillon was never really separate from Marcella Pappias. At least not in my mind. Papillon was a backup identity. I only used it a couple of times, but it kept me out of jail both times.” She shuddered. “Once was in Venezuela and once was in Greece. Believe me, I don't want to be in jail anywhere, but certainly not in either of those two countries!

  “Given what was happening in 2000, I didn't see the Papillon identity as a 'safe' identity for the purposes I had in mind.”

  She paused. “This is tricky. You told me not to tell you anything about Techtron. I can't explain what I was doing in 2000 without telling you some behind-the-scenes information about Techtron. What do you want me to do?”

  He thought about it for a minute. “I want you to tell me. I'll consider it deep background. I won't publish any thing unless I can corroborate it from someone else.”

  She sipped her lemonade, “God, I hate talking about my personal life.” She looked at him and continued, “But, since you pretty much are my personal life now, I guess I owe it to you to come clean. I'm not completely over being hurt and shocked that you went behind my back, but I guess I understand.

  “Do you remember I told you that I had concerns about Techtron. I thought there was something not right about the network of clients. As a person in the smuggling business myself I saw things that I know Roland couldn't see. He didn't know about my 'other life'. I could never get him to look closer at the his clients and his sales force. Today as I sit here I don't know what they were up to, but I swear to you it was nothing good. Feel free to look into that. I'd love to know what you come up with.

  “As I told you, Roland kept me away from Techtron. I had no involvement with the business. I was simply the wife of the CEO. I traveled with him. I went to ceremonies with him. He and his cronies did not engage in business conversations in my presence. What is more, I know almost nothing about accounting, at least not legitimate accounting.” She smiled, “I do know quite a bit about money laundering and how to hide money.

  “That is an important point. In my work for the Collonias the whole focus was on hiding huge sums of money and assets we and our clients actually had.

  “What Techtron was doing was cooking the books to show money and assets that were not there.

  “I had for years inhabited a world where there was too much money and it was important to be extremely discrete and to hide the origin of the cash. Roland was all about showing off his money and living a jet set lifestyle. Problem was, for the last couple of years of his life, he had no money. The accountants at Techtron were creating financial statements that were almost entirely fictitious.

  “For a long time I had no knowledge about that.

  “Once, my work for Aurelio intersected with the impending disaster at Techtron. It had to do with the Portuguese businessman I mentioned before. I delivered a painting to him in early 2000. Unlike the FedX delivery guy, I did not just drop off the merchandise and leave. My deliveries were always couched as 'visits'. Sometimes the client was supposedly a 'friend' or a 'relative'. Most of the time, Aurelio had women make deliveries to men and vice versa so it could appear to be a romantic relationship. This man always took that too literally.

  “Anyway, I was scheduled to spend the weekend with him. The first night at dinner he asked me what was up with Techtron. I told him I had no involvement with my husband's business, so I didn't know. He recommended that I start paying attention. He told me he had already sold his stock in Techtron and was advising his friends to do the same. He said there was something 'not right' with the company, but he didn't know what it was. He said it just didn't pass the 'smell test'. The guy is a self-made multi-billionaire, so I assumed he had a pretty good nose for that kind of thing.

  “I knew better than to ask Roland. He always treated me like the village idiot and blew me off when I asked about anything business-related. The fact is that I did then and do now have a better head for business and money than Roland ever did.” She sighed, “I took a careful look at Techtron's annual reports for the prior years. They were beautiful. They were also full of errors and holes. Of course, I couldn't see the out-and-out fabrications. This part was in the trial testimony, so it's no secret. Jason Sanderson tried to tip off Roland in early 2000 about what was going on. Roland blew him off. A few weeks later, he came to me, thinking that I could somehow prevail upon Roland to look into the finances.

  “Sanderson was mistaken about my potential influence over Roland.

  “I was, however, curious, so I called a retired accountant who had worked for Tonio's money-laundering operation. He was a master at cooking books. I thought perhaps he would be able to figu
re out what was going on. Sanderson provided me with certain data which, together with the public financial statements, I asked my accountant friend to look into.

  “Sometime in April of 2000, he called me on the phone and asked for an in-person meeting. That meant bad shit, as you probably know. I met him in a restaurant in a crummy neighborhood in Atlanta. It was all very cloak and dagger. He had pretty much figured it all out. Parenthetically, I will note that this guy figured out the scam in only a couple of weeks based on only a little information, most of which was already in the public domain. It took the feds years and millions upon millions of dollars to figure it out, and I still don't think they ever really understood the true magnitude of the corruption. As I said before, if you want a real bombshell of a story, look into the incompetence of the government investigation.

  “In any case, by mid-spring 2000, I knew what was going to happen. I was sure the company would collapse, and I was sure that most of the top executives who didn't immediately flee the country would go to jail. Even today as I sit here, I don't think Roland was involved in the scam. I think they did it behind his back. They knew he wouldn't look too closely. And he didn't. Sanderson warned him. Roland blew Sanderson off.

  “I sat down with Roland and with the books and tried to show him what was happening. He waved his hands in my face and told me I didn't know what I was talking about. He said I wasn't an accountant. How could I know that stuff? He told me to mind my own business. He was so arrogant and high-handed, I couldn't believe it. He had always been aloof and distant. That day, I could tell he knew the sharks were circling. He pushed me away. I looked into his eyes and saw both fear and the kind of single-minded determination to survive that made me certain he would throw me under the bus if he thought it would help him. He had never been a particularly loving or tender person. But, as long as I had something to offer him, he treated me fairly well. From that point forward, however, our personal relationship was essentially over.

  “Tonio had left me a lot of money which I had invested well. Aurelio paid me well for my services, infrequent as they were. I kept that money offshore, in Bermuda and Switzerland. Most of Aurelio's clients also 'tipped' me for my services. Some tipped me in money. Some tipped me in jewels or art. Some gave me insider information on investments. I had never merged any of my money with Roland's. All of my investments were still in the name of Marcella Pappias. By early 2000, my personal worth was something on the order of $50 million. Roland was broke, although he continued to live like a king. Techtron was headed for collapse. I knew that if Roland got his hands on any of my money, it would go down with Techtron. So, I decided to leave him.

  “The first thing I did was, as you put it, to resurrect Marcia Pappas. I bought a condo, opened a bank account, applied for a passport. I also moved the pary of Marcella Pappias' investment accounts that was in American banks to Swiss banks and then moved that money into other accounts, mostly in Bermuda and the Cayman Islands, in Marcia Pappas's name.” She laughed. “I was doing some pretty tricky laundering of my own money. I left enough money in Marcella's accounts to live on if I had to, which turned out to be a good thing. But I moved the bulk of my fortune from Marcella's accounts to offshore accounts in Marcia's name so neither Roland, Techtron nor the U. S. Government could get at it. My plan was to simply move out of the United States and resume my life as Marcia Pappas.”

  He nodded. “Why didn't you do it?”

  She thought about that for a while. “I guess there were several reasons. It would be difficult to say which one was most important. I think for one thing, I had been Marcella Pappias for so many years and I had buried Marcia Pappas so deeply, I hesitated to make that identity switch for sort of psycho-emotional reasons. I delayed for a while, considering whether or not there might be a way to avoid doing that. I talked to a divorce lawyer. That delay cost me. By the time the lawyer came back to me with advice regarding a divorce, the feds had launched their investigation. I was afraid that if I bolted, it would appear I was guilty of something. And, let's face it, while I wasn't guilty of anything in connection with Techtron, I was in fact guilty of a lot of other activity that could have put me in jail for a long time.

  “I had a meeting with Aurelio and some of his biggest clients. My being so close to Roland endangered not only me, but Aurelio and his clients as well. They wanted me to bolt, change my identity and disappear... forever. Aurelio has a palatial estate in Tahiti. He offered to give it to me if I would go there and stay put.

  “I don't know why but some kind of inertia took over. I was so afraid, I couldn't move. I waited too long. By then Roland was under investigation. I guess they never looked too closely at me because they found so much dirt under everybody else's rugs.

  “Do you have any more questions?”

  “Only one.”

  She waited, but he didn't say anything for a long time. She asked, “And what is that?”

  “How on earth have you functioned, after being so used and manipulated by virtually everyone in your life?”

  She buried her face in his chest and did not answer him. He held her tight while she trembled and clung to him. Interestingly, she did not cry. He did that on her behalf.

  Ray got up shortly after Marcella the next morning. He had not intended to spend the night, so he did not have a change of clothing or his shaving gear. He had a quick cup of coffee and then said he had to go home to shower and get ready for work. She walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye. She looked awkward.

  He put his arms around her, “Is something wrong?”

  “On the contrary. I was just thinking. Maybe you should leave some toiletries and a change of clothes or two here. I hate to see you have to get up so early.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing drastic. I just want you to feel as though you are comfortable when you stay here. I'm not suggesting we make any changes in our current arrangement, but ... well, I guess I want you to have the option of staying when it seems appropriate.”

  He hugged her and said, “I might take you up on that offer. At least as far as bringing over a toothbrush.” He made a face.

  She grinned. “I think I'll give you a kiss on the cheek and a rain-check until after you have rectified that situation.”

  He laughed, “That's smart. Call me later and let me know your plans for the day.”

  “I can tell you that now. I am having my hair done and then going for a massage. That means I will be way too relaxed to cook tonight. We haven't been out to dinner lately. Want to go someplace nice?”

  He made a face. “Frankly, I'm not crazy about eating out, but I know you like it. I guess I could make an exception, as long as it isn't anyplace too fancy.”

  “How about The Columbia?”

  “You are the only person I know who would suggest a place in St. Armands Circle as a 'not too fancy' place.”

  “It is expensive, but it isn't that fancy. I guess I'm just in the mood for some Spanish cuisine.”

  He muttered, “I know a couple of joints that serve great arroz con pollo and plantains for a fraction of the price.” Then he smiled, “Okay. But, you can pay, since you're so damned rich and I'm just a lowly reporter.”

  She laughed, “That's fine by me. I know it's a stretch for you, but I really enjoy going out to places like that. I'd love for you to learn to enjoy it, too, if only once in a while. The agenda for tonight is to discuss Christmas, which, in case you haven't noticed, is right around the corner.”

  On top of the business of going out for dinner, that pushed Ray all the way into another bad mood. At least since his divorce, Ray had tried as much as possible to ignore and avoid the holiday madness altogether. Suddenly he feared he was about to be trotted out to a series of holiday parties (probably in that new tux), and he was not happy about it.

  He managed to put it aside when he got caught up in a couple of new stories that made his fingers tingle to get at the keyboard and write them down. Ray dictated the firs
t draft of both articles using voice-activated software on his laptop in the car on the way back to the office. When he got to his desk, he revised each article carefully, and then filed both of them well before his deadline. Having more than fulfilled his quota for the day, he knocked off early and went home for a quick run. Then he showered and changed into slacks and a sport coat.

  He called the restaurant to ask if he had to wear a tie. He was gratified to learn that jackets were recommended but ties were not required. He packed a bag with shaving gear, an extra toothbrush a couple of changes of underwear, and a pair of sweats. He tossed the backpack into his trunk and drove to Marcella's house.

  She greeted him at the door, and asked if he wanted a cocktail. He declined. He liked Spanish red wine and planned to have some with dinner, so he passed on pre-dinner cocktails. She poured glasses of mint tea instead and they sat on the lanai, watching the fishing boats returning at the end of the day. When the last of the charter boats had gone by, Marcella stood up and stretched, “Time to go.”

  Ray stood up and took her into his arms, “Can you name every charter boat that goes by here nearly every day?”

  She leaned against him and put her arms around him. She whispered into his chest, “Yes.”

  He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head in the hope she would be comforted by his acknowledgment of her situation. He wasn't sure if she obsessively watched the fishing fleet out of sadness or melancholy or fear of 'there but for the Grace of God', but he knew it was a big deal to her that as the boats passed by on the intracoastal waterway she was watching. He suspected that one reason she got up so early was so she could sit there and keep her vigil, watching them going out in the morning as well. She was sort of the unseen and unknown madonna of the fleet. Knowing how intuitive fishing captains often were, he suspected some of the captains felt her presence as they passed by.