by Jacob Mesmer
“What do you think that means, exactly?” Tommy asked.
“I believe him to be an imposter. I think he has somehow forced his way into the family line, and is now in control of the entire family fortune,” Prieto explained.
“And a guy that devious, and that sociopathic,” Marco said, “with a trillion dollars at his disposal…” He looked at Tommy.
“He could do some serious damage,” Tommy finished.
“And he could also be very dangerous,” Prieto said directly to Tommy.
“What are you suggesting we do?” Tommy asked.
“Let me propose this,” Prieto started. “You two come work for me. And in that capacity, you will be my inside man at Shea Industries. I’ll provide full legal protection should he initiate any legal action. I will provide you with secure communications that you can use to communicate with me and your associate, who will be reporting directly to you,” Prieto said slowly. “You’ll have a large budget to hire whoever you need, in whatever capacity you need, to find out anything you need.”
“What is our purpose? What are we looking for, exactly?” Tommy asked.
“Anything that can either implicate him legally, or shut him down financially. I believe he is a very pathologically evil person, who intends to do serious harm to our economy or legal system in some capacity.”
Marco smiled, slowly turned his head toward Tommy. “I’m in,” he said.
Tommy smiled and nodded.
“Very well, I’ll have my assistant set you up with the financing you need, and I’ll have my technical expert here on site tomorrow to help set you up with anything you need,” Prieto said.
“Damn, dude, we hit the jackpot!” Marco said once they were back in the lobby. Prieto had gone back up to his room.
“Easy, pal, we need to go slow, make sure we don’t get killed or anything,” Tommy said, joking.
“So, what’s our first move?” Marco asked.
“This,” Tommy said and called Jamie Drake, putting him on speaker. He shot a serious glance at Marco, putting his finger to his lips.
“Drake Investigations.”
“Hi, Jamie, this is Tommy, you’re doing some work for me on Laney Berg,” Tommy said. Marco nodded his understanding.
“Uh-huh?” Jamie said.
“I’m calling about another project. Just how good is your hacker?” he asked.
“For the right price, he can hack anything,” Jamie said.
Tommy looked around, making sure nobody was within earshot. “Well, continue with the Berg case, at the same rate. But I have an additional target, different case. I’d like your guy to find out anything and everything he can regarding this individual. Spare no expense,” Tommy said.
“Got it. Name?”
“Dominic Shea.”
Twenty Six
Max stood at her door, after having knocked twice. He knew she was home, so he gave her some time.
“Yes?” she finally said, skeptically opening the door a few inches.
“Mrs. Heim?” he asked politely. “I’m Jeffrey Wilson, a claims adjustor with your insurance company. I think there might have been a mistake.”
“You’re goddamn right there’s been a mistake! They just doubled my premiums, and my cancer medication has tripled!” she said, opening the door and motioning him in.
“So, let me just get our records straight, please explain your medical condition?” he asked, and then sat back and allowed her to vent for forty-five minutes. Once he had all the information he needed, he excused himself.
“Hello, is this Jason Heim?” Max asked from his hotel room.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Hello, Jason. I represent an investor who is interested in spending quite a bit of money on genetic research, and he gave me your name as somebody he might want to head the laboratory,” Max said.
“Serious? But I’ve still got a couple years left before my thesis is even due. How’d you find out about me?” Jason asked curiously, taking the bait completely.
“Well, to be honest, I don’t know much about this stuff. Only that your academic record is outstanding, and they were very impressed with your undergraduate research. We would be happy to financially support you until your thesis is accepted and published,” Max explained.
“And what would you require from me in return? You guys aren’t making bioweapons or anything, are you?”
“No, not at all. Quite the contrary. Our organization is purely interested in funding research to eradicate all disease at a genetic level. Not only would that be incredibly profitable, but our founder recently lost somebody to non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and feels it’s imperative to do something,” Max explained.
“Wow, that’s what my mother has. I don’t know if we can afford her medication anymore, they just jacked up the price,” Jason said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Max said. “But if you agreed to a contract of say, five years upon acceptance of your thesis, I’m sure he would be more than happy to pay for your mother’s treatment.”
“Serious?” Jason asked.
“Absolutely, when would be a good time to meet?” Max asked with a calm smile on his face.
“Hello, is this Ahmad Bazzi?” Max asked. He’d done similar research on Ahmad, who’d been in the United States only three years since being accepted into Harvard’s genetic research program on a full scholarship. A cursory look into Ahmad’s web browsing history showed he spent a lot of time unsuccessfully trying to meet girls on various dating sites, and an equal amount of time on pornography websites.
“Yes, who is calling, please?”
“My name is Lewis Kirkland,” Max said, “and I’m calling on behalf of an investor who is very interested in your academic work. We realize that you are halfway through your thesis, but we would be willing to support you financially if you were to agree to a five-year contract once your thesis is accepted,” Max explained.
“You serious? I mean is this real?”
“Mr. Bazzi, I assure you that leading minds in genetic research are in high demand. And we have a very lucrative recruiting program to ensure we attract and maintain the best minds. However, in exchange we have a very strict non-disclosure policy,” Max said casually.
“Yeah, that makes sense. Recruiters are here all the time, and I’d be happy to sign any non-disclosures,” he said eagerly.
“Wonderful. Just to let you know we are serious, I’d like to send a couple of our representatives over to your apartment. You are in C-27, in the apartments on Commonwealth?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right.”
“And you’re free this evening from seven PM?”
“Yeah, who are you sending?” he asked.
“I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. And rest assured if you do sign with us, there will be plenty more like tonight,” Max said and ended the call. His next call was to a high-end escort service near Harvard.
“Angel Escorts,” a voice answered.
“Yes, I’d like two of your most talented professionals to go the following address at seven PM this evening,” he explained. One more call and he’d be finished for the day. He called and let it ring several times.
“Hello?” answered a very young and excited female voice.
“Hi, Molly! It’s Mr. Keen, how are you?” he asked.
“Um, good,” she said.
“I’ve got great news!”
“Really?”
“Yes, they’ve decided you’ve got the perfect face for what they want. Do you think you can find a bus to take you to the airport?” he asked.
“Oh my God! Yes! When?” she said quickly.
“Can you be there this Friday evening, six o’clock?” he asked.
“Yes, yes. I’ll have to tell Becky to tell her mom I’m staying at her house, no wait, I’ll tell Becky to tell her mom that both of us are staying at Melissa’s house, and then on Friday I’ll call Becky and tell her I’m not coming because I’m going to meet Spencer
and not to tell anybody,” she said almost too quickly for Max to comprehend.
“Fantastic. And in case anybody asks, you’ll be home Saturday by noon. Can you take the bus from the airport to Becky’s house?” Max asked.
“Well, I’m not really staying at Becky’s house, but I can take the bus to her house and then come home from there, so yeah, that will work. Oh my God, what should I bring?” she asked excitedly.
“Just wear something comfortable. We’ll provide all the clothes. I’ll find you Friday afternoon at Redding Airport, OK?”
“OK! Oh my God, I’m going to be a model!”
“Just be sure not to tell anybody, OK?”
“OK,” Molly said just before Max ended the call.
Molly spent the next five minutes frantically pacing in her room. It was going to be absolutely impossible not to tell anybody before Saturday. But who? Becky would tell somebody. Melissa would definitely tell somebody. No way could she tell her sister, she would blab to her mom within like ten seconds. She started to scroll through her contact list. Somebody had to be in there.
Twenty Seven
“OK, so as long as my phone is on, even though it’s not connected, it’s recording everything, right?” Tommy asked.
“Yes, but the pickup is only as good as your location, meaning if the phone is buried deep into your pocket you might not get anything good,” Willis explained. Tommy had stopped by his temporary office on his way to work, where he’d set up a basic listening system. “Also understand this is just a preliminary check. I doubt Shea will start to divulge secrets out in the open,” he added
“Right. I’ll just take my time on this, that’s what Prieto wants anyway,” Tommy said.
“Exactly. I don’t expect for us to learn anything right off the bat. Take your time, continue to do your job for Shea, and we’ll just see how things go,” Willis said. “Just let me know if you guys think of anything, and I’ll set up the tech side of things.”
Tommy left Willis’s nondescript office, located between an insurance office and a small gym for toddlers.
“Hello, Mr. Battaglia?” Marco asked.
“Yes?”
“My name is Marco Winston, I was wondering if I might talk to you a little bit, when you have time.” Battaglia was eighty-two, and Marco wondered if he’d even agree to meet with him.
“Sure, what’s this regarding?” he asked pleasantly, surprising Marco.
“Well, I was wondering about the relatively large plot of land you sold a couple of years ago, near Briargate, in Colorado Springs?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” he said.
“Well, I was just wondering if I could talk to you about the transaction, maybe why you sold it, anything you could tell me about the buyer?” Marco asked, surprised he’d gotten this far.
“Well, I didn’t really want to burden my children, who are all grown, you see, with the maintenance of it. None of them live in the area, and I just figured they’d rather inherit the money than have to worry about dealing with undeveloped property,” he said.
“I see, that makes sense. I’m actually doing a little bit of research on the individual who bought the property. How exactly did that transaction take place?”
“Well, that was strange. I had been thinking about selling it before I died, but I hadn’t mentioned anything to anybody. He just appeared to me out of the blue. I actually never met the buyer, only his agent,” Battaglia explained.
“I see. So he approached you, made an offer, did he happen to mention what he was going to use the property for?” Marco asked.
“Oh no, I didn’t ask. I was hoping to get five, ten thousand an acre. But he offered me fifty.”
“He offered fifty thousand an acre?” Marco asked. That was considerably higher than anything that had sold nearby in the past five years.
“Yes, and that was his first offer. I took it without really thinking, but I might have been able to get more had I bargained, come to think of it,” Battaglia noted.
“Well, that helps me quite a bit, Mr. Battaglia. Thank you very much for your time,” Marco said before ending the call.
His next call should be interesting. He’d found out after about an hour of dead-ends that Curtis Lusk, a world-famous gardener, had been hired. Marco had come across the link to the article not through Shea’s name, but by trying random searches related to Colorado Springs and real estate. It only mentioned that Lusk had been hired by an unnamed developer, and by process of elimination, Marco had a strong suspicion that unnamed developer was Shea. However, if he called and said outright he was looking for information on Lusk’s employer, he doubted Lusk would give up anything useful. After a few moments’ thought, he came up with a plan. He called the number he’d found, left a message, and waited for a response.
“Hello, this is Curtis Lusk returning your call?” he said.
“Mr. Lusk, thank you so much for returning my call. My name is Marco Winston, freelance journalist. I’m hoping to sell this piece to either Garden Design or Country Gardens, two of my biggest buyers,” Marco said, hoping he wouldn’t find himself in a detailed conversation he wouldn’t understand.
“Yes, I see,” Lusk said.
“I was looking for potential topics online and I came across an article about your new project. What can you tell me about it?” Marco asked, taking a risk.
“Well, I’m not supposed to say who I’m working for, just that he is very interested in floral design, and I suspect he intends to construct a garden of a certain scale and notoriety. I doubt he’ll be able to keep his name secret for long, as the kinds of things he’s got me researching make me suspect he’s got big plans. I can’t tell you much, but I’ll tell you this much. He certainly knows what he’s doing,” Lusk said.
“Is that so? Why do you say that?”
“Well, he’s spoken to me in detail about what he’d like, and his knowledge of aesthetic horticulture. The amount of details he’s conversationally fluent in is what you’d expect from a flower geek like me. But I guess rich people need hobbies too,” Lusk said.
“So, how big of a garden do you think you’ll be building? One to rival your work at the National Museum in the Netherlands?”
“I suspect that’s what he might be after eventually, but do not quote me on that. He’s paying me quite a bit, and I do not want to upset that at all,” Lusk explained with a chuckle.
“No sir, it doesn’t sound like there’s enough for a piece here,” Marco said, feigning disappointment.
“Yes, that’s a shame too. This fellow has picked the perfect location, I just wish he wasn’t so secretive,” Lusk said.
“What do you mean by that?” Marco asked, curious.
“Well, this of course is all off the record, but when I first started planting here, in our small greenhouse, I was astounded by the quality of the soil. It’s like nothing I’d ever seen. I’m surprised this hadn’t been discovered earlier. Very little work will need to be done to grow an absolutely gorgeous garden. I’m really excited,” Lusk said.
“Well, that’s good to hear. I’ll check back with you in a couple months and see if you are any less tight-lipped.” Marco laughed.
“You do that. And pay attention to any buzz about new flower gardens springing up. I’ll be sure to give you first dibs on an in-depth story, Marco,” he said politely.
Marco hung up. Nice guy, but absolutely useless information. Some guy hijacks a family fortune because he wants to build a world-class garden?
Twenty Eight
“Melissa, what are you doing this weekend?”
“Um, I don’t know, why?”
“I need a huge favor. I need to pretend to stay at your house,” Molly said.
“Why? What’s happening?” Melissa asked, sitting up on her bed. This sounded good.
“I can’t say, but it’s really cool, but I need to do something this coming Saturday and nobody can know about it. I promise I’ll tell you everything when I get back, OK?”
&n
bsp; “Wait, get back? Where are you going?” Melissa demanded.
“Nowhere! OK? Can you also ask Becky to come over, for real?”
“Is she going with you?”
“No, I need to tell my mom that me and Becky are coming to your house, so when she calls your mom everything will be set, but then I won’t show up at the last minute,” Molly explained.
“What about Becky? What should I tell her?” Melissa asked, thinking.
“I don’t know, just say you don’t know what, or say you think I went to Spencer’s house,” Molly said quickly.
“Oh my god! You like Spencer?” she screamed.
“No, but people think I do. So if you tell Becky you think I went there, it will sound, like, normal, right?”
“But you won’t tell me where you’re really going? I want to know!”
“I will tell you, Melissa, you’re my best friend, I want to tell you, but they told me not to or it wouldn’t work!”
“What wouldn’t work?” Melissa asked, beside herself.
“I’ll tell you when I get back!”
“Where? Where? Where?” Melissa screamed.
“Oh my god! Nowhere!” Molly exclaimed, exasperated. “I’ll tell you everything later, just please help me, OK?”
“Oh my God! Becky will know I’m not telling the truth, and then she’ll be mad!”
“Just tell her I went somewhere, you don’t know where, it’s a secret and I’ll get in HUGE trouble if my mom finds out! I mean like I’ll never be able to leave the house again. OK?” Molly asked one last time. Why didn’t people just do what you wanted?
“OK, but you have to tell me everything!”
