White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller

by Peter Ralph

  “Ungrateful little shit.” Elliot laughed. “I give him a job and a great apartment, and he still wants to work in Manhattan.”

  “He has an appointment with his lawyers next Wednesday afternoon. His mom’s gonna be there.”

  “That’s to be expected. She’s bankrolling the legal fees. How are he and the girlfriend getting along?”

  “Everything seems fine. He asked her to move in with him, but she said that it was too early. He was pissed off, but it didn’t last long,” Amon replied. “Oh, I nearly forgot. He visits Frank Arturo every second Sunday.”

  “Now there’s a strange relationship.” Elliot laughed. “One thing we can count on though is never having to worry about Arturo cooperating with the government.”

  “I’ve got someone listening to every conversation. Do you want me to continue or are you happy for me to listen to the recording in the morning? Most nights he only makes one call, and that’s to the girlfriend.”

  “What about his cell?”

  “In the two weeks we’ve been recording he’s hardly made a call. He’s called you, me, the girl and Castlebrough and that’s it,” Amon replied.

  “I think he’s okay,” Elliot said. “I don’t think we need to be listening to every call. Just make sure you listen to the recording in the mornings.”

  Vanessa was wearing a white V-neck blouse and black skinny jeans with matching flat shoes when she opened the door. She kissed Todd lightly on the lips.

  “Congratulations,” he said, “you look stunning.”

  “Thank you. It was a fantastic surprise. Sandra was so selfless, and I think Doug’s as happy as I am. Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’m right for now. Is there anything I can do to help you? Peel the potatoes? Grate the cheese? Anything?” Todd said, looking around the small apartment. There was a sparkling white tablecloth on the small table and gleaming cutlery and crockery. Strangely, there was a laptop flickering at one end of the table.

  “No, thanks. We’re having grilled salmon and salad. Very healthy. Followed by white chocolate panna cotta with coffee syrup. Yummy but not so healthy.” Vanessa laughed while beckoning Todd to the laptop.

  The Word document on the screen read;

  Detective Grinich thinks my apartment and phones might be bugged. If you have anything to tell me, call me at work and ask me if I feel like coffee or a drink. He wants to see you. He wants you to leave thirty minutes earlier than usual when you next go to see Arturo. Walk along Mount Street. It’s a one way. Hail a cab to take you to Castlebrough at 12:25 P.M. Grinich will be driving it.

  Todd nodded, and Vanessa deleted the message.

  “Sounds fabulous,” Todd said.

  “I have a superb Pinot Noir that I’ve been saving just for this occasion. Can you open it?”

  While they were eating, Vanessa bubbled on about being made a partner and went over what Lechte had told her about the meeting in great detail.

  Todd grinned. “Hmmm, Phillip Cromwell might be in the same boat as me. We might be sharing cells in six months.”

  “That’s not funny, Todd. Please don’t spoil the night,” Vanessa said taking a long sip of her wine.

  “I’m sorry, that was a silly thing to say,” Todd said, scooping up the last of the coffee syrup from his plate. “God, that was good.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. Let’s watch some television. Bring your wine with you,” Vanessa said with the slightest of slurs, as she kicked her shoes off and curled her feet under her on the sofa.

  As Todd sat down next to her, he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

  “There were times I never thought it would happen and I wondered whether all those hours would be worth it. My first resolution is that I won’t be working Sundays anymore.” Vanessa laughed.

  The wine had relaxed Todd, and he sensed it had the same effect on Vanessa. He put his arm around her and drew her toward him. He was surprised when she responded so enthusiastically. They lay on the sofa kissing, and Todd unbuttoned her blouse and ran his hands over her silky skin. He was breathing heavily when she said, “Oh that’s good, real good,” before whispering, “I think it’d be a good idea if you stayed the night.”

  Todd smiled. “I’d love to.”

  “I’ll make up the sofa for you,” she murmured. “If they’re watching, they’ll be expecting you to stay.”

  “Oh, that’s what you mean,” Todd said, unable to mask his disappointment.

  “You’re growing on me,” Vanessa mouthed. “I do like you, but we have to remain focused.”

  “Let’s stay on the sofa for a few more minutes,” Todd mouthed back with a big grin.

  Todd walked briskly along Gable Street for about half a mile before turning into Mount Street and heading south. There were few cabs using the street, and he glanced at his watch before turning around and hailing a yellow cab about two hundred yards away. He climbed in the front and said, “Castlebrough Penitentiary.”

  The driver was wearing a New York Yankees cap, sunglasses and was heavy with facial hair.

  “Hello, Todd,” Grinich said, “you’re looking good.”

  “What do you want?” Todd replied. “This is dangerous.”

  “No, it’s not. They never follow you when you go to see Arturo. Even if they did, there’s nothing untoward. You’re taking a cab like you always do. We’ve been disappointed. It’s over four weeks, and you haven’t passed anything on to Vanessa.”

  “If I had anything I would’ve have got it to you. Their careful about what they say in front of me and Elliot keeps his door closed. You’re going to have to be patient.”

  “You must have seen or heard something,” Grinich persisted. “Come on, think.”

  “I know the club gets a sizeable drug delivery each week. They make sure they get rid of me before unloading. It’s delivered in an unmarked van, but it’s random. There’s no fixed day or time.”

  “Jeez, you’ve got to have more than that.” Grinich groaned.

  “I think Elliot’s boss’s name is Dermott. He always gets rid of me when Dermott calls.”

  “Dermott? Dermott who? God, there’s a million Dermott's.”

  “I haven’t heard a second name.”

  “You’ve got to have more. Who else does Elliot talk to?”

  “I wouldn’t say talk. He shouts at a woman named Mrs. Deacon on Skype. I think he’s trying to intimidate her the way he did with me. I don’t know how old she is, but I’m fairly sure he called her a cougar in one of their calls. He’s a very nasty piece of work.”

  “Interesting. What else did you hear about her?”

  “Nothing. That’s it.”

  “Okay, tell me about the club. It’s layout, offices and security. Don’t leave anything out.”

  For the next ten minutes, Todd provided as much detail about the club as he could recall while Grinich prodded and prompted him.

  “Tell me about Elliot’s phones again,” Grinich said.

  “They’re Samsung throwaways, four of them are black, and one of them is blue. When Dermott calls it’s always on the blue phone and Elliot uses it more than the other phones.”

  “Does he call Mrs. Deacon on the blue phone?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve only heard calls to her on Skype.”

  “I’d love to get ahold of what’s on those SIM cards. You know you could copy them.”

  “Forget it. That takes time, and they’re watching me far too closely. Besides, I’d be so nervous I’d most likely mess it up.”

  Grinich sighed. “Can you at least get a photo of the phones?”

  “I’ll try. Why can’t you just tap them?”

  “We can when he uses them outside the club and in public, but you say that’s hardly ever. We have problems with the law tapping phones in private places. Are they still searching you?”

  “Yeah, but not as much as they were. About once a week now. They’re becoming more comfortable with me.”

  “How do you
feel about wearing a wire?”

  “Are you fucking stupid,” Todd responded. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? They find a wire on me, and I’m dead. Besides, I haven’t heard anything remotely worth taping.”

  “Perhaps when you become more accepted?”

  “Grinich, listen to this. I’m never wearing a wire. Not ever. Don’t ask me again.”

  “Jesus, settle down,” Grinich said, as the ugly structure that was Castlebrough appeared on the horizon. “Same time, same place in two weeks.”

  Chapter 46

  Dermott Becker was surprised and disappointed when Elliot had been unable to extract the five million from the woman. She had proved tougher than Becker had anticipated, and if it were not for Borchard, who was calling every day, he would have called the operation off.

  “I’m sick of waiting, Dermott. Let’s just sell the CD and then see how smart the bitch is then.”

  Becker hated this. He saw himself as a businessman. When a deal went sour, he cut his losses early and moved on. Borchard was the exact opposite, driven by malice and the urge to inflict pain just for the sake of it.

  “That will cause us more trouble than it’s worth,” Becker replied. “If you’re lucky you might get two mil. It’s peanuts in the bigger scheme of things. If it’s just the money, I’ll buy it.”

  There was a long pause. Becker knew what his vindictive partner in Chicago was thinking. He wasn’t interested in the money. He just wanted to hurt Karen Deacon.

  “I’ve put Dirk back on the job. I don’t want you to call Jack off. Maybe she’ll crack under the pressure of the pair of them. She hasn’t seen the CD yet. I’m going to make sure she does. It might motivate her to change her mind.”

  “Not according to Jack. He said that she’s convinced the CD’s going to end up on the net no matter what she does. She’s tougher than Cooper and hasn’t got a fifteen-year career in the big league under threat.”

  “She’ll crack,” Borchard said without conviction. “And Dermott, if she doesn’t, I’m going to flood the net with copies.”

  “You can’t. You were at the board meeting that resolved that under no circumstances would we sell the CD.”

  “Yeah, and I’m sticking to the resolution. I’m not selling it. I’m putting it on for nothing. Then we’ll see how tough the bitch is,” Borchard said, terminating the call.

  Becker didn’t move for five minutes. It had been a mistake bringing Borchard into the operation. Now the question was how to get him out?

  Aaron Lord listened in silence but when Grinich had finished briefing him, he said, “It sounds like Elliot is blackmailing this woman. I’ll run a check on all female senior executives of listed companies and see if Deacon comes up. I wonder what the significance of calling her a cougar is. Maybe she’s an older woman with a much younger boyfriend. Todd didn’t get much, did he?”

  “Nah, and he says they’re watching him like a hawk at the club. I didn’t tell him it wasn’t just the club. The only time they don’t follow him is when he goes to visit Arturo.”

  “It’s disappointing, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, a little, but if we can find out where those drugs are coming from we might be able to make a sizeable dent in their operations.”

  “That’s good, but unless this Mrs. Deacon is a source of inside information, he hasn’t found anything that’ll help me.”

  “I think if we can get hold of the details on that blue cell phone’s SIM card we’ll be able to speed up the investigation. I have an idea, but it’s risky and the kid might not buy into it. He got angry when I asked him to wear a wire.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Lord replied. “Don’t push him, Chas. Time is on our side.”

  The ice cream van parked on Gable Street about two hundred yards south of the club stayed there all of Monday. It was gone on Tuesday when a plumber’s van appeared about three hundred yards to the north on the opposite side of the street. For two weeks, FBI agents inside a variety of different signed vans parked in various locations near the club videoing every vehicle entering or leaving the alley. They paid particular attention to the arrival of a plain white van that coincided with Todd leaving the club for the coffee shop. In the third week, a cyclist rode in front of the van as it came down Gable Street causing it to brake sharply. The driver was too busy abusing the cyclist to see the pedestrian, who in one quick movement affixed a tracker under the rear of the van. Grinich cursed the time that he had wasted securing a warrant. His life had been a lot easier before the bleeding heart lawyers had come to prominence.

  Elliot sat back in his swivel chair, legs on the desk and grinned. “You’re doing a good job, kid. I’d almost forgotten that it was still possible to make an honest dollar.”

  “It could be more profitable. If you got rid of those thugs sitting around the bar, it’d be a lot better. Customers come in, have one drink and then can’t get out the place fast enough.”

  “They’re my salesmen,” Elliot said, and then as an afterthought, “and my debt collectors. If you filled the club, got the prices right and had everything running flawlessly you still wouldn’t make as much as just one of those guys.”

  “Drug dealers, loan sharks and standover men.” Todd sneered.

  “Don’t get too precious; they’re paying your wages. When you’ve got the club ship shape, your next job’s going to be to help with collections,” Elliot replied. “I gotta take a leak.”

  Todd started to stand.

  “Sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”

  Todd quickly glanced around looking for Amon. He was nowhere to be seen. Todd quickly took two pics of the phones on Elliot’s desk and another three of his office. By the time Elliot returned Todd’s cell phone was back in his pocket.

  “As I said the place looks good, and you might as well finish the job. How long do you think you’ll need to straighten out the store and re-price the menus?”

  “A week, but I don’t like the idea of collecting drug monies.”

  “What you like is of no account. We’ll talk again next Monday.” Elliot smirked. “Keep up the good work.”

  Todd froze as he sorted out the mess in the cool room. The first day was hell, and he barely scratched the surface. Some of the food was over five years old, and there was no semblance of a system. The drinks menu was way out of date, and the prices of many white wines were less than replacement cost. Todd wondered how profitable the drugs were. The volumes and margins had to be huge to make up for the underpricing and cost excesses elsewhere in the club. Amon was still keeping a close eye on him and had a nasty habit of appearing when least expected. Todd wasn’t worried. He wasn’t doing anything that might cause the thug to become suspicious.

  By Friday, Todd was sick with a cold but he’d finally finished the job. Desperate for warmth he went back to his office. He was surprised that Elliot’s door was open and as he walked past he could see him talking on Skype. Todd was in the corner of his office on top of a strip heater trying to get his hands warm when he heard Elliot shout, “Mrs. Deacon; this is the last warning I’ll give you. If you’re wise, you’ll transfer the money, and all this will go away. I promise you’ll never hear from us again, and your worries will be over.”

  Todd could hear the woman’s voice but couldn’t make out what she was saying. Then he heard Elliot, straining to control himself, say in a loud voice. “I didn’t put that CD in your mail box. I know nothing about it. It shows you how dangerous those people are. I can stop them. Just transfer the money.”

  This time Todd could make out at least one of the woman’s words, no, which she used repeatedly. “You're stupid.” Elliot hissed. “How do you think your husband’s going to feel when his players see the CDs? They’ll know about your antics and the poor bastard who’s the father of your children will be none the wiser. Your husband’s a public figure, and these people aren’t just going to degrade you, they’re going to degrade him too. He doesn’t deserve it, and you can make it all go away. Don’t,
don’t you dare end this call.”

  A few minutes later Todd heard Elliot say, “Dermott, it’s me. Those stupid Serbian bastards in Chicago sent her a copy of the CD and she’s more determined than ever not to pay.”

  On the way to his apartment, Todd called Vanessa and asked her if she felt like coffee or a drink.

  Chapter 47

  Todd was surprised when Vanessa chose to go to a noisy, crowded bar near her apartment rather than a coffee shop. He was more surprised and a little annoyed when she asked for a mineral water. It took nearly five minutes of being pushed and jostled to get to the bar. All the seats were taken, but there was a little space in the corner of the room and Todd handed Vanessa her drink, put his free arm around her waist and steered her in that direction. At the other end of the room, there was a jukebox blasting out hits from the nineties and a small dance floor that was overflowing. With his face only inches away from Vanessa’s he shouted, “Why did you want to come here?”

  Vanessa put her mouth next to his ear and said, “Grinich said that they’re watching us and might be using listening devices. He said if the equipment’s sophisticated they’ll be able to hear us through windows and from more than two hundred yards away. They’re not going to hear anything in here.”

  “Fuck! I never thought of that,” Todd said, pulling her toward him and kissing her.

  “What was that about?” Vanessa laughed, her face still close to Todd’s.

  “Realism,” he replied, cuddling into her. “Now listen carefully, I have a lot for you to pass on, and I need to come up to your apartment after. I have some pics to download to your laptop.”