“Yes, but I’m getting over it.” She glanced at him and saw a half-smile on his face. Her residual anger dissipated. Dean Hooper was too sexy to stay angry with for long, especially when he grinned.
Dean said, “Something Gleason said had me thinking. Before Gleason, XCJ Consulting was just Xavier Jones and a handful of clients, including Weber Trucking, Rio Diablo, and Omega Shipping. I know Jones’s current finances well, but I didn’t spend much time on his old finances because the statute of limitations for money laundering and racketeering is five years. I needed something current, so I only gave the older documents a cursory examination.”
She sensed he was taking a leap of faith by sharing his theory with her. He didn’t like brainstorming.
“When I saw the name Rio Diablo Rancherita on the list, and that they’d been clients of Jones since before Gleason, it set off some bells. Indian gaming is relatively new to California. There used to be a handful of casinos, now they’re breeding like rabbits. Las Vegas and Atlantic City have always been under our watch because of the opportunities for money laundering. It’s very easy to slide money into the casino and ‘clean’ it-the illegal money becomes profit for the casino owner, reportable and taxable, but still illegally obtained. They claim the cash came in through gambling losses, but in reality it came in through drugs or illegal prostitution or a host of other racketeering scams.”
Sonia asked, “But how do the criminals themselves profit? Are all casinos criminal enterprises?” She didn’t know much, if anything, about gambling.
“No, most are fairly clean, it’s better now than in the past. But there are many ways for criminals to use casinos-frankly, any businesses that have large cash flows are at risk, even if the owners are clean. There are two primary ways that the criminal element profits from casino action. When the casino owners themselves are part of the illegal activities, they wash their own money and don’t technically have to ‘pay’ anyone. They clean it, pay taxes on it as revenue, and they’re free and clear. The other way is for a criminal to go into a casino, exchange cash for chips, usually under ten thousand, gamble a little, then cash in those chips. Now the money is ‘clean.’ He’ll ask for a receipt for his ‘winnings’ and the casino has no way of tracking whether he won all the money or not. There are reporting thresholds that casinos are required by law to report, but just like running money through banks, the criminals know if they stay below the threshold they can run the scam indefinitely. And they will walk into multiple casinos with different players, washing tens of thousands of dollars all over town in a single night. We watch for the same people, have informants, and some owners are willing to work with us. Catching them is hard, but proving it is virtually impossible. That’s why it takes on average two years of intensive, full-time investigating to collect enough evidence for an arrest warrant, and ultimately, a conviction. We have to show the pattern. Two or four or six times and a good defense attorney can get the guy off. Thirty lucky days a year? A jury isn’t going to buy it. And of course we build our case with additional evidence, like known associates, lack of a stable job, living a lifestyle above reported income. It’s a labor-intensive investigation, but it never fails to satisfy me when I can build a case and take down a criminal enterprise.”
“I can see it now that you lay it out, but I never realized how easy it was.”
“It’s become harder over the years with security cameras and incentives for casino owners and staff to work with us to identify these people. But it’s also harder for us with fewer resources, and criminals are finding new and innovative ways to launder their illegal money.”
“And you think Jones found an innovative way?”
“Remember when I said that the revenue coming into his company was high for a lobbying firm?”
“Yes.”
“He claimed the money, provided client lists, and has a real, legitimate business. There’s no crime in charging high consulting fees, and while we looked hard at quid pro quo-where there was an agreement between a lawmaker and Jones to pass or not pass legislation in exchange for money-we couldn’t find even a blemish related to Jones in the capital. So I put the idea aside, figuring Jones’s clients felt he was providing a service and they were willing to pay his steep fees.
“However,” Dean continued, obviously energized by his discovery, “when I saw Rio Diablo on the list, and Gleason asked specifically why we were interested in them, but not any of the other clients, I looked at my notes and saw the connection between the small operation Jones had before Gleason and the much larger operation he has now. I suspect Jones set up the consulting firm fifteen years ago specifically to launder money.”
Sonia considered the idea. “If that’s the case, it would be a huge conspiracy. A great number of people involved. Secrets are revealed proportionately to how many people know. I don’t see how Jones could have kept something of that magnitude under wraps.”
“That’s the thing, he doesn’t need a lot of people.
Only one in each business. And if the Indian tribe is one of those entities, there’s no way in hell I would have figured it out. They investigate themselves, and trust me when I tell you they are not going to bend over backward to help us prove one of their own is laundering money through one of their casinos. That gets out to the public and public trust plummets. So do their casino profits.”
“But Jones isn’t a gambler,” Sonia said. “I’ve been following him nearly as long as you have. He doesn’t gamble.”
“That’s why I think this worked. If he was a gambler, I would have seen the gambling ‘winnings’ in his reportable income. That would have been a huge red flag. He’s the one receiving the money from human trafficking. He likely keeps a large stash of money somewhere-probably in a safe-deposit box-and perhaps he pays his people some of their salary in cash. But his profits are going to far exceed his expenses. How can he ever use that money? He needs to deposit it in a bank eventually. While he can do a lot of business in straight cash, and that’s how many criminals get away with their crimes, Jones has many expenses and property holdings that cost him capital outlay at some point. Deposits of over ten thousand dollars are reported to the IRS, as well as repeat deposits that are just under the ten-thousand-dollar threshold, at the discretion of the bank. Legitimate deposits would be payroll, consulting fees, and the like, so the IRS and FBI would be informed of a fifty-thousand-dollar wire transfer from one person or business to another, but if it’s ‘legitimate’ on the face, it’s not going to receive additional scrutiny.”
“I don’t see the connection here to Rio Diablo.”
“Cash flow into traditional casinos is hard to track, but we have years of data and experience, and tough federal regulations to make it extremely hard to launder money through casinos. But those regulations don’t apply to Indian gaming. They police their own, and their Indian council doesn’t have the experience with money laundering and criminal enterprises to know what to look for.”
“So Jones sent his employees to pretend to gamble and then collect winnings?” Sonia was confused.
“No. This is why it’s so brilliant. I think he’s giving his clients cash-and they are paying him for lobbying and political consulting-even if they don’t need it. They probably keep a percentage off the top, and the rest goes back to Jones as income into his legitimate business.
“That’s why I think he brought Gleason on six years ago. I suspect his illegal revenue had grown to the point he feared his small client list would become a red flag to the IRS. So he brought Gleason on with the charge of growing the business. Gleason and the other two lobbyists work ninety percent of the clients, but it’s the few original clients who are still responsible for the bulk of the income. At least, that’s what I think.”
Dean turned into the FBI parking lot and showed his badge to the guard, who opened the electronic gate. “That’s why,” he concluded, “I need to analyze the older records before I can state with certainty that this is how he did it.”
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“But you are pretty certain.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. And it works every way I look at it.”
As they got out of the car Sonia said, “I never thought white-collar crime was so exciting. But you definitely have my interest piqued.”
“You know human trafficking, Sonia. Together we can figure out exactly how they’re helping him. Because they must have known about Jones’s illegal activities from the start.” Dean’s gaze hardened. “I want to take every last one of them down.”
It took Charlie all day researching, until he had a headache and could hardly see, but he had finally figured out Jones’s code.
And it didn’t help at all.
The code was so simple-a numeric code-that had he access to a government computer, it would have been broken in minutes. However, the numeric code revealed another code, this one seemingly random. The words were clear, but Charlie didn’t know what they meant. And he feared their meaning would be clear to only one person: Jones.
There were columns of dates, which Charlie focused on, but this journal only went back six months, if Charlie had decoded it right. And Ashley Fox was kidnapped nearly a year ago.
He could hardly believe all of his work-the crimes he’d committed, the crimes he had to allow lest he reveal his identity-were for nothing. He needed the older journals, and he had no idea where Jones kept them.
Charlie was certain they weren’t at Jones’s house or in any of the outbuildings. Jones wouldn’t have left them in either his consulting or security office because Jones trusted no one. He’d had a fear of being blackmailed, so Jones had held everything close to the vest.
But even if Charlie found the older journal, he still wouldn’t know what the damn words meant! Odd words and phrases like lipid and fresh news and rose and coffee time. The words meant something-the transportation method, how many people were brought in, expenses, and income. Lacking access to a high-end computer-decoding program, it would take him much longer than decoding the numbers.
All this work and he was no closer to finding Ashley.
Her mother’s voice rang in his ear.
“All I want, Mr. Cammarata, is to know. I want her back home, but if she’s dead I want to know that, too. This not knowing what happened to her-the not knowing is killing me. I’m in limbo. One morning I’m sure she’s gone, the next morning I’m positive she’s still out there, crying for me. Help me find her, dead or alive. I have to know.”
Charlie didn’t yet have an answer for Ashley’s mother. It was killing him. How could he go back and tell her he didn’t know what happened to her daughter?
There was nowhere he could turn. Ten years ago he had burned every bridge and betrayed the one person he’d never wanted to hurt. But Charlie couldn’t let this one go. He had to find Ashley. But looking at this code-it made no sense. Jones had put together a fail-safe against law enforcement and his illegal business associates.
Damn you to hell, you bastard.
Charlie should have found a way to torture the information out of Jones. Now he was dead and the bizarre code dead with him.
Even with a code-breaking program and a top-notch analyst, the chance information about Ashley Fox would be in the journal that began in January of this year, while Ashley was abducted a year ago last April, was slim.
But for certain the key information about the China dolls being sold in the foothills to the unknown buyer was here. Charlie would give Sonia the journal-on the condition that she promise to find Ashley Fox.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The key players involved with the Xavier Jones investigation assembled in the conference room crowded with all Dean’s computers and files. In addition to Dean and Sonia, ICE agent Trace Anderson and analyst Maria Sanchez were there; FBI agent Sam Callahan and two analysts who’d been assigned to Dean full-time; and sheriff’s deputy Brian Aze vedo brought detective Melanie Montgomery, who’d been assigned the Vega double homicide and, because of the connection between Jones and Vega, the riverfront double homicide as well. Quantico’s top profiler, Dr. Hans Vigo, was on speakerphone. Dean introduced everyone who didn’t already know one another, gave a brief rundown on Dr. Vigo’s credentials, and started the task force debriefing.
It was after hours, and while the atmosphere was charged with energy and hopes that they were making progress on the case-or cases, as it were-the men loosened their ties, drank coffee, water, or soda and munched on snacks Sam had brought in.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Dean said. “As you now know, ICE and the FBI formed this Xavier Jones task force two days ago when we learned that we were running parallel investigations. However, in light of the primary suspect’s murder last night, our purpose has changed. It’s important that we lay out everything we know and reexamine it together. There’s an urgency we didn’t have until now. An unknown number of Chinese women, likely minors, are being brought in illegally from Hong Kong and are being sold Saturday night into illegal prostitution or slave labor. We have an unconfirmed day and time, but no location. They may already be here in the Sacramento area, or still en route. Agent Knight will summarize what we know so far.”
Dean nodded at Sonia, who’d been sitting casually on the corner of the table by the door. She was drinking coffee but not eating, and Dean vowed to get some food into her before she left for the night. Though she was holding up well, Sonia still blamed herself for the Vegas’ murders.
Sonia stood and walked over to one of the whiteboards where earlier she had written a general time line. “Omega Shipping, affiliated with Xavier Jones, has long been suspected of transporting illegal immigrants, not only to the U.S., but to Canada and other countries in the Western hemisphere. No country is free of trafficking. Women, girls, and boys are enticed or kidnapped for illegal prostitution, child soldiers, and slave labor. Over eight hundred thousand individuals a year are trafficked across international borders, and that doesn’t include those captive in their own countries, such as the child soldiers in Africa.
“My office has been looking at Xavier Jones for a couple years, but we never had enough evidence for a warrant. We had some suspicious travel, his name had come up in other, unconnected investigations, and his affiliation with Omega Shipping, who we had been investigating on another trafficking matter, had us on the edge. It took an informant to give us the in we needed to finally make strides in building a case against him.” Sonia drained her coffee, and Dean handed her a water bottle. She nodded her thanks, sipped, and continued.
“Our informant was one of Jones’s top lieutenants, and as everyone here knows, when you have a criminal like Jones in a major racketeering case, it’s usually the inside man who gives us what we need to build a case for the U.S. attorney. My informant confirmed what we already knew, and provided us with some additional but outdated intel regarding facilities used for temporary storage of their prisoners. Unfortunately it was his word alone: he had no hard evidence to give us Jones. He wanted immunity and witness protection. We agreed, provided he obtained the physical evidence we needed to prosecute.”
Sonia sighed almost inaudibly; if Dean hadn’t been standing right beside her, he wouldn’t have noticed the defeated heave in her chest. She said, “Greg Vega, my informant, and his pregnant wife were murdered early this morning. Any evidence he may have collected for us is gone, though I doubt he had anything significant. He wanted out, and would have given me the moon if he could have. We were both counting on the shipment of the China dolls-what we sometimes call Chinese women sold or lured into forced prostitution-to give us what we wanted. I wanted Jones; Greg Vega wanted freedom.”
Deputy Azevedo spoke up. “Vega was tortured and left to die with a knife in his gut. The coroner estimated it took him twelve to fifteen minutes to bleed out; he was probably conscious for half that time. Conscious and looking at his dead wife who had been shot execution style while tied to a kitchen chair.”
Grimness set in among the assembled gro
up. Dean spoke. “Xavier Jones was murdered prior to the Vegas. Though we’re waiting for the crime scene and ballistics reports, it’s clear the four homicides are connected. Theories as to why are welcome, but Agent Knight and I believe that there’s some jockeying for power within the Jones organization, or that one of his competitors saw a weakness and exploited it.” Dean paused. He had been uncomfortable with his realization all day, and hadn’t spoken of it. He would probably never know if his actions were the catalyst that led to this chain of violence. “Our raid early Wednesday morning may have been the signal that now was the time to make a move on Jones’s territory.”
Sonia said, “The problem remains that, if our intelligence is accurate, we have young women in jeopardy We don’t know where they are at this precise time, but we know they’ll be in the greater Sacramento area late Saturday night.” She pointed to her time line. “Twenty days ago, a small tanker owned by Omega left Hong Kong. ICE agents on site informed us that the ship was likely to have a minimum of thirty females between the ages of fourteen and seventeen who had been kidnapped from an illegal convent. These girls had been orphaned or abandoned as infants and raised to maturity by an underground church. They were being transported to a safe haven when the girls were abducted. We believe they are to be integrated into the illegal sex trade here in the United States, or that they’ll be traded to other Western countries.”
“Why Sacramento?” Sam Callahan asked. “We’s inland. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this in a major port, or offshore, or in Mexico?”
“Yes and no. First, we have a vigorous watch in all ports in California, and because Omega is flagged, we search more of their ships. Second, Mexico is not the safest place to engage in trades if the destination country is elsewhere. There’s border patrol, for one.” Sonia paused. “However, we have unconfirmed intelligence that once the victims hit American soil, they are transported by air. Small aircraft, including helicopters, which have virtual autonomy to travel within our borders.”
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