by J. L. Brown
Jade started to return to her office. “Okay, thanks.”
Pat didn’t bother to turn around. “That’s not all.” She brought up another screen. “The money didn’t stay in the Cayman Islands. We traced it to its destination. The money ended up in one account. In Seattle.”
Jade pulled up a chair. “Where?”
“The Puget Sound Bank. The account is registered to a nonprofit organization called The Equality One Foundation.”
Pat brought up the foundation’s home page, and then navigated to the About Us page. She clicked on the Board of Directors and pointed at the screen.
Jade leaned in and scanned the list of twelve names. Noah Blakeley was the chairman. David Smith, the CFO cybertheft victim, and Evan Stevens, the blogger, were on the board as well. The rest of the names she did not know, until she reached the bottom.
Her breath caught.
The last name on the list was Kyle Madison.
CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
The White House, Washington, DC
The vice president slowed when he saw Sasha sitting in a chair across from Whitney’s desk in the Oval Office.
“I thought we were meeting alone.”
“Xavi, have a seat,” Whitney said, not bothering to rise. “Welcome back. How was China? Fruitful, I hope?”
He sat in the chair next to Sasha and crossed his legs. “Of course.”
“And Lei Min?”
Min was the president of the People’s Republic of China.
“He sends his regards. I laid the groundwork for a new trade deal and a bilateral agreement forbidding government-sanctioned cyberespionage. He understood our position.”
Our. “Tell me about it.”
“I’ll draft up a memo for your review.”
He didn’t share any specifics. He never did. Whitney leaned back in her chair. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about where I’ve come from.”
Her handsome vice president’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. “You have time for that?”
“Sometimes, I like to think about where I’ve been, to know where I’m going.”
Xavi nodded, a skeptical look on his face. “I like to look forward, not backward.”
“I’m sure you do,” Whitney said. “Let me tell you what I’ve been thinking about. I had a talk with Eric Hampton.”
“Oh?”
“He told me about your willingness to work across the aisle on comprehensive illegal-immigration reform.”
Humbled, he said, “I believe we can find common ground. Hispanics want reform just like everyone else. It’s a matter of compromising. Like you’re always saying.”
“When is the last time you spoke to Eric, by the way?”
He examined his cuticles. “I can’t recall.”
Whitney leaned forward, her eyes hardening. “Compromise. Such as not allowing a pathway to legalization for undocumented immigrants? Agreeing with Sampson on building the wall? Placing a moratorium on all non-Christian immigration? You told him that Americans need to defend their country from Hispanics taking over. All those babies, you know. That we don’t need any more ‘Mexican’ts.’ Shall I go on?”
Xavi’s face stilled. “Is that why you sent me to China?”
“Our relationship with China is important. I needed you there.”
“Bullshit.”
Whitney stood and went to the window. She glanced out at the Rose Garden: the grandiflora, tea roses, white shrub roses, and seasonal flowers. She could stare at the beautiful colors all day, but only stayed in that position for a moment. She did not want her back to Xavi for too long.
She turned. “Washington is such an interesting place to work. Politics makes strange bedfellows. Eric and I are bedfellows. For now.”
He dropped the respectful pretense. “What do you want?”
“When I added you to the ticket, I did so because of your compelling story. Both of your parents had escaped from the Castro regime by boat, traveling across treacherous waters. The boat sunk a few hundred yards off the coast of Key West, Florida. Your parents swam the rest of the way, eventually migrating to Miami. Your father found a job in construction. Your mother became a housekeeper. They built a life for you and your four brothers and sisters. Born in America, and therefore an American citizen, you were the first person in your family to graduate from high school, college, and graduate school. You became a self-made man in your own right. The epitome of the American Dream. Your story was inspirational. To millions of Hispanic-Americans and Americans in general. To me.”
His eyes blazed with an undisguised hatred he’d never revealed before. He remained silent.
Whitney returned to her seat, and rested both of her arms on the desk, her hands clasped. “Under your ‘compromise,’ you would have been deported.” She stared at Xavi so that there was no misunderstanding her intent. “I won’t tell anyone that you want to prevent other immigrant families from attaining the success yours has had. That you have had. Or your true feelings about Mexicans. In return, you will cease going behind my back to sabotage my legislative agenda. You will stop pushing your own. And, finally, you will support this legislation fully and unequivocally and with a smile on your face.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I will make your life so uncomfortable that you will resign the vice presidency and return to your insignificant life in disgrace.”
“My children look up to me. I am a hero to my community and Hispanics everywhere. You captured the Hispanic vote because of me. You wouldn’t do that.”
She straightened. “Watch me.”
Xavi stared at her.
Sasha stood, a smirk on her face. “I’ll show you out, Mr. Vice President.”
CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
Arlington, Virginia
In her bedroom a few days later, Jade packed for her evening flight to Seattle. She’d asked Christian to accompany her. He would be by soon to pick her up.
She stuffed the rest of her clothes into the open carry-on bag on her queen-size mission bed and allowed herself to think about Kyle Madison.
The two of them came from different worlds: Kyle went sailing and skiing, attended symphonies and the opera, was fluent in several languages, CEO of her own firm, owned a professional sports team and a second home in Palm Springs. Jade played pickup basketball, practiced Tae Kwon Do, listened to Seventies and Eighties music, and preferred a night out drinking beers with her fellow agents to going to a fancy gathering. The only property she owned was this small townhouse and her car. And even then, the bank still technically owned both of those.
She zipped up the bag and grabbed her phone. “Hey, you. I need a favor.”
“And good evening to you, too,” Zoe said. “I’m fine, by the way.”
“I’m going to Seattle for a few days. Can you take care of Card?”
“Following up on a lead?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you going to see your girlfriend?”
Jade snapped. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Zoe paused. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“Can you take care of Card or not?”
In her best Downton Abbey voice, Zoe said, “As you wish, my lady.”
“Shut up.”
Jade clicked off the phone, and allowed herself a small smile.
CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
Seattle, Washington
He loved this time of the morning.
North of downtown, Green Lake was surrounded by a three-mile path. The air, crisp and cool at six a.m., caressed his face as he biked along the outer path for cyclists and runners. The inner lane was designated for walkers. The early hour allowed him to enjoy the relative quiet, and the space to maneuver.
He felt good.
He had told his father last night that he was retiring from the firm. He couldn’t take another day working in a job for which he had no passion.
Besides, his nonprofit was keeping him busy.
&nbs
p; His father had accepted his resignation, not even trying to hide his pleasure at the unexpected gift. He wasted no time appointing Noah’s older brother, August, as president of the company, and hired an outsider to run the foundation. He never considered Noah for the foundation’s executive director position. The position at one time Noah had coveted.
His father had never forgiven him for allowing the cybertheft to become public and bringing unwanted attention to the firm. He hadn’t wanted the additional shame of firing his younger son. Now, he wouldn’t need to.
It didn’t matter now. Noah had been serving as the president of the Equality One Foundation, in addition to his role as chairman, and now would be able to do the job full time. He had been working out of his home, but recently found a suite of offices nearby. He planned to move the foundation’s headquarters from New York to Seattle.
As he rounded a bend, he happened to notice the woman.
What is she doing here?
The FBI agent, Jade Harrington, stepped out from behind a copse of trees ten yards off the path, her badge held high in one hand. A gun was lowered to the ground in the other.
He almost lost control of his bike.
“Noah Blakeley, you’re under arrest.”
It took him a moment to stop the bike and another to realize she was talking to him. Arrest?
He tried to unclip his cycling shoes from the pedals, but it just wasn’t happening. He braced himself as he hit the asphalt hard, still clipped in, the bicycle between his legs.
Someone laughed.
The agent approached. The heat rose in his face, as he gazed up at her. Not from exertion, but from embarrassment. He still couldn’t clip out of the pedals.
Sweat started to trickle down his face, into his eyes. Other agents in blue FBI jackets came out from behind nearby trees. One guy, jacketless, wore a t-shirt and jeans. He looked like Kurt Cobain with a badge. Strange.
“Don’t move,” Agent Harrington said to him.
A big blond male agent moved next to her.
“Is that a joke?” Noah tried to appear dignified, despite the decidedly undignified position he was in. “What is this about?”
“Equality One.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re in violation of sections ten twenty-eight, ten twenty-nine, ten thirty, and thirteen forty-one of the US Code title eighteen.”
He shook his head, hitting his temple on the bike path. “Ouch! Goddamnit! I still don’t understand. What are all those numbers?”
“Your organization is a fraud. You’ve obtained funding illegally. Agent Merritt?”
The nonprofit? Could his dream of making the world a better place, including being his own man, be over already?
Noah allowed his head to hit the pavement again, not caring.
His life was over.
The blond man walked over and crouched next to him, handcuffing his arms behind him. “Before I read you your rights, you want some help getting out of those clips, buddy?”
CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
Seattle, Washington
Jade got to the point. “Why did you steal the money?”
“Don’t answer that,” the attorney said. Noah’s father had not hired him. Noah had had to retain one on his own.
“I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of.”
“Then explain how these thefts were initiated from your computer.”
“For the last time,” he yelled. “I don’t know!”
He seemed genuinely perplexed. Jade stood in the interrogation room of the Seattle FBI field office. She started to pace.
She needed to calm him down. She returned to her seat. “Okay. Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me about Equality One.”
He exhaled. “It’s a nonprofit. Its purpose is to provide jobs and homes for the homeless, low- and middle-income families, and the long-term unemployed. We do a lot of good. A lot of good. I’m the president and chairman of the board.”
“That must have pleased your father.”
He stared at her, as if she were insane. “I failed PE in school. I could never please my father. No. He didn’t know. He wouldn’t have cared.” He gazed through the observation glass. “My father had other plans for me.”
“Like what?”
Noah gave Jade a rueful smile and shook his head, his eyes kept fluttering to the one-way mirror. “I still don’t know. Surely, he didn’t think I was the best person to take over the firm when he died.” He noticed Jade’s expression. “My great-great-grandfather started the business. My father would have never entrusted it to me.”
“What about your mother?”
Noah looked down at the table. “After I was born, I’m not sure she knew I existed.”
This guy is sad. She wanted to tell him to man up. “How is it funded? Equality One.”
“May I have some water?”
Jade nodded.
Detective McClaine went to the door. After a moment, he returned with the glass, setting it down in front of Blakeley.
Noah took a sip. “Mostly through donations. We receive large gifts from progressives and liberals across the country, but primarily New York, DC, San Francisco, and here in Seattle.”
Jade listened to the sound of Christian’s pen scratching on his notepad, as she thought of her next question. “Why are you the only signatory on Equality One’s bank account?”
Noah dropped one hand under the table. She remembered Kyle telling her he liked to keep it in his pocket.
“Because I oversaw the operations of the organization.”
He told her that David Smith raised funds and attended board meetings, but wasn’t heavily involved.
As evenly as she could, Jade said, “Tell me about Kyle Madison’s involvement.”
“She’s an officer and contributes money,” he said. He smiled ruefully. “In fact, she was the one who told me about Equality One in the first place.”
“And Evan Stevens’s?”
He shrugged. “The same.”
She glanced at McClaine. “Anything?”
He shook his head.
“Okay. That’s it for now.”
Agents came into the room to take Noah away.
“Give me a minute,” she said to Christian and McClaine.
After they left, she stared at the table. It was an enormous relief that Noah hadn’t implicated Kyle.
She didn’t ask herself what she would have done if he had.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
Seattle, Washington
“I’m getting ready to head out.”
She looked up from her paperwork and smiled.
Detective Kurt McClaine entered the conference room Jade had commandeered as an office. Still wearing the same jeans and Bumbershoot Festival 2014 t-shirt from that morning, he sat across from her at the table.
“You need to move to Seattle. You could solve all my cases.”
“Then what would you do?”
“Good point.” He glanced at her paperwork. “You guys taking the red-eye?”
“Christian is.” Jade hesitated. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
McClaine rapped his knuckles on the table. He came around and stood in front of her. “Have fun your last night in Seattle. I enjoyed working with you again, Agent Harrington. Until next time.”
“How do you know there’ll be a next time?”
“I’m a detective.” He waved off her outstretched hand, and gave her a brief hug.
When he got to the door, he turned, his hand on the knob. He gave her a slight smile. “Give my best to Ms. Madison.”
*
“I’ve never seen so many coffee shops in my life,” Jade said.
“We do love our coffee in Seattle,” Kyle said.
From their table next to the window, Jade glanced around the empty, independent café on Sixth Avenue.
“Tell me about Equality One.”
“My mistake. I thought we were just having coffee.”
“I don�
��t like loose ends.”
“Very well. As I told you before, I try to do what I can. Homelessness is pervasive here. The mission of Equality One is one in which I strongly believe.”
“But not Noah. You don’t seem to care for him much.”
A slight move of her shoulders. “There was something about him.” She shook her head. “And now he has used our organization to commit crimes.”
“It’s Raining Men” began to blare from the coffee shop’s speakers. The lone barista pirouetted in cabaret fashion, eyes closed, as he sang the chorus of The Weather Girls’ song at full volume into a long spoon to an imaginary audience.
“He actually has a good voice,” Jade said.
“His dance moves aren’t bad either.”
They watched him in silence for a few minutes, the young man oblivious to them. A line of customers could have been waiting in front of him, and he wouldn’t have known. Or cared. After the song, he lowered the music to a conversational level.
Kyle sipped her coffee, and then placed her cup on the table. “I can’t get away from Eighties music when you’re around.”
“One of the reasons why I like Seattle.”
Chin in hand, Kyle smiled. “I hope that’s not the only reason.”
Jade’s cheeks warmed. She stared into her wide cup, the latte-art heart mocking her. She didn’t trust herself enough to answer.
Her phone vibrated.
Saved by the buzz.
A text. From Blake.
In town. Can I see you tonight?
She texted him back. Out of town.
“Is everything all right?” Kyle asked.
Jade pocketed her phone. “Never better.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE
The White House, Washington, DC
In the East Room, Whitney listened as the prime minister of Thailand leaned toward her and told a joke in flawless English. She was enjoying herself. The prime minister and his wife had been in DC the last two days for a state visit, staying at the Blair House across the street. He was charismatic and funny; she was graceful and kind.
