“He has an abducted woman with him. You think he’d take her back to his home?”
His tongue slid out and wiped over his lips. “Probably not.”
Probably not. I drew back my fist, ready to hit him, but stopped myself. I turned away and looked into the mirror and saw my own face, distorted through steam but with the fear still obvious. We’d made progress, but not enough. Even if Gaglionci had Amy, he wouldn’t have taken her back to his own home. If we checked it out, it would be empty. I was sure of that. He was a pro, and he’d have a safe house somewhere.
Thor dropped Reed. He fell onto the bathroom floor and scrambled over to the toilet, tried to shove himself between it and the wall. I looked at him and felt overwhelmed with anger and disgust. His life was devoted to making money off the crimes of others, people like Gaglionci and Doran. They hid the bodies; he hid the money.
Hid the money. That was what Thor had said—he hides money, and he does that well. And what was it Reed himself had whined as we’d brought him in here? I do finances. That’s all! I don’t know anything about this woman.
“They’re going to move millions with computers,” I said. “And not just move the money—make it disappear. An untraceable transaction that even trained professionals won’t be able to follow.”
Reed’s eyes were on the floor. He’d wedged himself as far behind the toilet as possible. I pointed at him and turned to Thor.
“Could he make that happen?”
Thor looked almost impressed as he nodded. “Yes. He could do it.”
Reed tried to move but couldn’t. He had nowhere to go. It was just him and us, trapped in that bathroom. He began to weep.
“I didn’t know about this. I didn’t know about the woman. I just said I’d help with the money. That’s all I knew about—the money. That’s all! ”
His voice was wet with spit and tears. I nodded as he talked, and I thought my expression must be calm, because it seemed to reassure him. The sobs stopped, although his face was still streaked with tears, and he repeated what he’d already said—all he knew about was the money.
“That’s fine,” I said. “That’s really quite good, Reed. I’m glad you’re helping him with the money. But I think you’re about to have a problem with the transaction. And you’re going to need to see him in person.”
37
It was Joe who came up with the scenario we needed.
He’d joined us in the apartment after Thor dragged Reed back out to the living room. I said I wanted Joe with us, and Thor didn’t object. When Joe came through the door his eyes went right to Reed, sitting there in his underwear, his body still damp with sweat and steam, his face dripping blood. Joe looked at him for a long time and then at me.
“We’ve got the name,” I said.
Joe didn’t say anything. He walked down into the sunken living room to join us, and he kept his face away from Reed. I knew what he was thinking—that he’d gotten a lot of information out of a lot suspects over the years without putting any of them in Reed’s sort of condition. This was a different game, though, and that was why I’d gone to Thor. We were in a darker world now, and the clock was running. The time for rules was gone.
Joe sat down, and I told him that Reed was in charge of the money transaction, that I wanted to use him against Gaglionci and Doran.
“If we can get them here, we’re halfway done. To do that, we need a reason for them to see Reed in person. They’re going to call me in a few hours with instructions on how to move the money. We need a change in that plan, something that seems like it came from Reed but will disrupt them enough that one of them will actually come here.”
Joe frowned. “Gaglionci’s got a kidnapped woman with him. It’s not going to be easy to convince him to come in without making the trap obvious.”
“He wants that money, Joe. Wants it bad. He’ll come in if he feels like he has no other choice. All we need is an excuse to bring one of them down here, but everything I’ve thought of is too simple—signing a transaction document or some shit like that. That won’t work. Not for a computer transfer like this.”
If Reed had any ideas, he wasn’t volunteering them. Thor was silent, watching us with his gun in his hand, and I didn’t know the first damn thing about money transfers.
“How will you do this, Reed? Once the money is ready to go, how do you make it disappear?”
Reed was sitting on the floor, holding what was left of his shirt against his chin to stop the blood. He took the shirt down when I spoke and looked at the crimson stain on it as if reminding himself why candor was the way to go.
“I’ll ricochet it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ricochet—that’s the term we use. When the money moves into the account I’ve designated, I cycle it out immediately, keep doing that through a series of accounts. I use numbered accounts, offshore banks . . . there are a million ways to do it with computers. It’s called a ricochet because it bounces off a number of accounts before finally landing. That makes it harder to trace.”
“These accounts exist only for the ricochet?”
He nodded. “They’re dummy accounts. I’ve already got them set up.”
“What’s a reason you’d need to see these guys in person? It doesn’t have to be real, it just has to sound real.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you’d better start thinking, asshole. Because either we get them to come here, or—”
“Fingerprints,” Joe said.
I turned to him. “What?”
“I saw something on TV . . . maybe it was in the paper, I don’t remember. About computer security. How there’s a move to use fingerprints for identification now. They’ve got these readers, fingerprint scanners, that you can hook up to your home computer. There’s a whole brand of laptops that have them built in.”
I looked back at Reed, who was nodding.
“Biometrics,” he said. “That’s what it’s called. A lot of offshore banks are using biometric security for computer transactions now.”
“That’s what it was,” Joe said and then turned to me. “They used fingerprints to burn you. Let’s throw it back at them.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Better than anything else I have, at least. Reed calls Gaglionci and tells him he needs a print for one of the accounts. Convinces him it’s added security.”
“Gaglionci won’t want to use one, obviously,” Joe said. “So we have Reed tell him he needs somebody’s print, and maybe Gaglionci will offer up Doran. I’m guessing he’ll like that idea—it attaches Doran to the money, and not him.”
“But I don’t have a fingerprint reader.”
“They don’t know that, Reed,” I said. “All they need is to believe you have one. Think you can make them do that?”
He looked unconvincing as he nodded.
I made him use the speakerphone on his desk. That way we could hear both ends of the conversation and know for certain whether Gaglionci was buying his pitch.
“You screw this up,” I said, “and they’ll know we got to you. They’ll know we’ve got Gaglionci’s name. Then they’ll panic, and innocent people will get hurt. If that happens, I will hold you responsible, Reed.”
He was sitting in the big chair behind his desk. When he leaned forward, his fat back peeled off the leather and left a moisture stain behind. He was still in his underwear, and there were dried drops of blood on his pale, hairy chest. I reached over and hit the speakerphone button. The dial tone hummed.
“Call him.”
Reed punched in the numbers and sat hunched over the phone, the rest of us standing above him. Thor had his Glock out, hanging against his leg right in Reed’s field of vision.
“What do you need?” The voice that answered after the third ring was not Doran’s but that of the man who’d told me they had Amy. I looked at Thor, and he nodded once. Gaglionci.
“Um, hey, look, had a little bit of a problem,” Reed said, and his voice was too high, to
o fast. Thor moved the gun maybe a fraction of an inch, and Reed’s eyes went to it and he got himself under control.
“It’s not a big deal,” he continued. “I’ve got this thing almost set up the way we want it, but I—”
“Problem? There’s a problem?”
Gaglionci’s change in tone seemed to unnerve Reed more than Thor’s gun, but he swallowed and pushed on.
“No, no problem. It’s just that . . . I’ve got a system here that I think is perfect for what you want to do. A system that will let us bounce right into a South American bank. We can move money from that into a numbered account in another country. Makes it tough to trace, and American law enforcement doesn’t have the same access.”
“Good.” Gaglionci bit the word off, heavy with intimidation. “So make it happen.”
“Right, that’s what I’m going to . . . I mean, yeah, we’ll get it done, but this system, see, to start it off with the first account, I need a fingerprint.”
A long pause. “Fingerprint.”
“Yeah. I’ve got a scanner that’s hooked right into the computer. You press your thumb on it, I click a few buttons, and we’ve got an account set up on this thing. It’s the perfect way to start this move. Increases our protection level right away.”
“I don’t want to use a fingerprint. Are you kidding me with this shit? A fingerprint?”
Reed looked up at me, then back at the phone. There was sweat on his brow, and he had his hands clasped together, squeezing his fingers.
“Okay. You don’t want to use it, okay, but what I’m telling you is, this helps. It’s the safest way to do this. The fingerprint lets us set up with a safer account, and the money will just float through and disappear. The banks look at the fingerprint as added security, so the accounts are actually better protected.”
“And I’m attached to them. I don’t want that.”
“I need a fingerprint from someone. I’m not using my own. Find somebody else to give me one.” Reed’s voice was rising in pitch.
“You moved half a million for me and didn’t need one then. What the hell changed in a week?”
I’d been watching Reed, but now I turned to Joe and saw the same look in his face I felt in my own. Half a million? A week ago?
“This is more money,” Reed said, and I refocused on him. “A lot more, man. At least that’s what you told me. I’m trying to help you, that’s all. This much cash, it’s harder. And you said the cops could be tracing it, or trying to. I’m not going to jail for you. If I move this, I’m going to do it as safely as possible. That takes the fingerprint.”
He was doing better now, his voice edging away from nervous and toward argumentative, the way it should have been.
“You use a fingerprint to get it started, and then it ends up in the same account we’ve discussed?” Gaglionci said. “Is that it?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Using the fingerprint lets us set up a different sort of account to get everything moving. A more secure account. They feel protected, but it really helps us.”
Gaglionci was silent. The speakerphone hissed softly, and Reed licked his lips and stared at the glowing blue light on the display as if it might come to life.
“You need one thumbprint,” Gaglionci said. “Mine or anybody else’s, and then we’re ready. Then we can make this happen.”
“Yeah. Yeah, man, absolutely. We’ll be all set then.”
“All right. You stay there.”
The blue light blinked off.
38
Half a million,” I said once Reed had turned off the phone and pushed back from the desk, wiping at his sweaty forehead with his hand. “You moved half a million for him a week ago?”
Reed’s face immediately crumpled. For a moment I thought he was actually going to try to lie, even though we’d all stood there and heard it, but finally he just nodded and said, “Yeah.”
“Where’d it come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“Reed . . .”
“Honestly, I can’t tell you that. The originating account was anonymous to me, just a number.”
“Is that common? For Gaglionci to move that much money?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never seen any amount close to that from him.”
“What day did the money come in?”
He licked his lips and looked at the floor, was silent for maybe thirty seconds, reviewing a mental calendar, then said, “October twentieth.”
October twentieth.
“You get it?” I said to Joe. “That’s the day—”
“Jefferson was murdered.”
“No. Day after Jefferson was murdered. Gaglionci killed him. Gaglionci murdered Alex Jefferson, and someone paid him to do it.”
Joe frowned. “Maybe not. Could be they got more money out of Jefferson than the fifty grand.”
“No way, Joe. Jefferson isn’t so rich that half a million would disappear and nobody notice. Think about how hard the cops have been going over his accounts. If they noticed fifty missing, they’d sure as shit notice five hundred thousand.”
“But Jefferson hired Gaglionci.”
I nodded. “Yeah, and it seems somebody outbid him. Doran thought it was him, promising to get more cash from Jefferson. Maybe that wasn’t the truth of it, though.”
A half million dollars, paid out the day after Jefferson was murdered. And Doran didn’t know about it. Couldn’t know. He’d stood there on the breakwater and spread his hands and said on what money? when I’d told him to run. Five hundred grand was a decent chunk. I couldn’t imagine Doran hanging around, risking capture and a trip back to prison just to bump the dollar figure a little higher.
“He’s using Doran just like he’s using me,” I said. “Hasn’t shown his face yet to anybody, but Doran has. He’s taking the risk, and that’s how Gaglionci wanted it.”
“Donny Ward could identify him,” Joe said. “Connect him to what happened to Doran. Then we sent the cops out there, and you told Doran—”
“That I knew about Ward. Gaglionci must have killed him. When he took him out, he eliminated one thread while tying me to it with the money.”
The more I thought about it, the greater the implication of what Reed had just told us became. I’d been worried about Doran at first, then Doran and his partner, but this revelation made it clear that I’d been unaware of another player. There was someone else involved, and Gaglionci was operating on his orders.
“Who paid him?” I said.
Joe didn’t have an answer, and I didn’t, either. For a while we just stood there, Reed watching us with apprehension and Thor silent as always. Eventually, Joe shook his head.
“We need to get ready. He’s sending somebody. One of us should be down in the garage or out on the street, watch to see who shows and tip the people up here.”
“Will you do that?” Thor said.
“Yeah. I’ll move my car out of that garage, too. They’ll probably recognize it by now. It shouldn’t be close. I’ll park it somewhere else and walk back down.”
“Good.”
Joe took his keys out of his pocket, turned on his heel, and walked for the door. He was reaching for the knob when I stopped him.
“Gaglionci came into the Heaths’ house with Alex Jefferson and Fenton Brooks,” I said. “Jefferson told police he was acting as a liaison between Brooks and the Heath family. Liability reasons.”
“Yeah. And Fenton’s dead now.”
“His son isn’t. How much money do you think that family is worth?”
“Brooks Biomedical has to be worth, what, hundreds of millions? Maybe a billion? It’s a huge figure.”
“Right.”
He stood with his hand on the doorknob and stared back at me across the open apartment.
“Gaglionci taking down half a million the day after Jefferson was killed isn’t a coincidence,” I said. “I don’t see how that’s possible. That payout is connected to what happened with Doran and Jefferson,
and the Brooks family is, too. They’re the only ones involved with that sort of money.”
“You’re thinking Fenton helped protect Matt Jefferson?”
“Maybe. Matt was a family friend and the son of his top attorney. Fenton was the first person Alex Jefferson called.”
Joe dropped his hand from the door and turned all the way around, his face thoughtful.
“I could go with that,” he said, “if all we had was the past. That makes some sense. It’s a stretch, but it makes some sense. Until you get to the present. Why would Paul Brooks hire someone to take Jefferson out? If he knew what happened with Doran, he’d own Jefferson. Not the other way around. Jefferson wouldn’t be a threat to him.”
No, he wouldn’t. If Fenton Brooks had knowingly helped Jefferson cover up a murder, that revelation could tarnish his legacy and embarrass the family. Jefferson would never bring it forward, though. To tarnish Fenton’s legacy would be to indict himself for the same crime and to identify his son as a murderer. So what did Jefferson know that scared Paul Brooks?
“We had the wrong damn rich kid,” I said.
“What?”
“Paul Brooks, Joe. What if he killed her?”
“I don’t see how you’re getting there.”
“The night that girl was killed, Matt Jefferson called his father, who called Fenton Brooks.”
“To check on the kid’s story. To see what was happening.”
“Who told us that?”
He made a nod of concession. “Paul Brooks did.”
“Right. And a day after those phone calls, Matt changed his story and implicated Doran. Maybe that wasn’t about clearing himself. Maybe he did see somebody up there, but it wasn’t Doran. It was the son of his dad’s richest client.”
“That’s a big jump.”
“Matt wrote the prosecutor and told him he was refusing to come back and testify. Why do that, why risk attracting that sort of attention, if he’d killed her? His dad would have coached him better than that. If it was just about saving his own ass, he would have waited quietly and with his fingers crossed that the plea bargain bid would work. When he moved back to Indiana, he cut off communication with his dad. Maybe he wasn’t running away, though. Not from what we thought. Maybe he was running away from the guilt and cut off his dad because of what he’d convinced him to do.”
A Welcome Grave lp-3 Page 27
