by Trace Conger
“Five million,” I said. “And that’s just Holbrook’s money. Holbrook isn’t the Banker’s only client, so God knows how much cash he’s carting round. Could be five times that.”
“How many clients are we talking about?”
“No way of knowing. If Holbrook knew, he didn’t tell me.”
“His behavior makes sense,” said Connor. “It’s hard to knock over a bank when it’s traveling down the highway at 70 miles per hour.”
“It’s a solid deterrent. We have the route, maybe we start with the vehicle. Find the Banker that way.”
Connor studied the map again. “You ever seen 5 million dollars?”
“No. You?”
“Once or twice. It’s a lot of cash, and it’s not easy to transport. And again, we should assume the Banker is hauling more than just your client’s share.”
I knew where he was going. “If you were carting around that kind of cash, what type of vehicle would you use?”
“It’s got to be big enough to haul the payload, but small enough to maneuver around the city. And it has to be something that wouldn’t draw a lot of attention.”
“He’d need a CDL to drive a big rig, so that’s probably out,” I said. “Not to mention it would be a bitch on gas.”
“No way he could get that cash in an SUV. If it were me, I’d use a box truck.”
“That’s assuming we’re taking about one vehicle,” I said. “He could be using two or three smaller vehicles to move the money. Then he could use an SUV.”
“Maybe, but then he’d need multiple drivers, and from what we know about this guy so far, he’s careful. And that means he’s probably a loner. Multiple drivers means more people who know what’s going on. The Banker is doing everything he can to protect his identity. Burner phones, switching his numbers every other week. Moving from place to place. He’s probably working alone.”
“There is a courier,” I said.
“We’re probably still looking for one set of wheels.” Connor went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. “What about his starting and ending point? He’s got to live somewhere.”
I traced the Banker’s route with the pen. “After circling I-465 three times, he exits onto I-31 south.” I cross referenced the time with the triangulation report. “Looks like he pulls onto I-31 around 12:45 pm. Then he travels south on I-31 to Franklin, Indiana, and then he cuts over Route 44 to Shelbyville.” I checked the triangulation report again. “He arrives in Shelbyville around 1:45 pm.” I wrote it on the map.
“Then where?”
“He takes 74 back to 465 for two more laps.” I confirmed with the triangulation report. “He exits on 37 south and we lose the signal around Waverly, Indiana about 4:30 pm.”
“Fewer cell towers,” said Connor. “His base of operations is probably somewhere around there, otherwise his signal would bounce off more cell towers and he’d appear on the radar again as he got closer to a larger city.”
I thought for a moment. “The easiest way to find someone is to know where they’re going to be,” I said. “This is what we have here. We know exactly where the Banker is going to be and when.”
Connor returned to the table with his coffee. He pounded my shoulder with a loose fist. “Don’t get too big a boner over this,” he said. “This is showing us his past routine. If he were still traveling this route, this could help us, but if he’s swiped a shit-ton of cash from his clients, who are all probably eager to kill him, he’s not sticking around town. He’s long gone.”
“You’re right. He is long gone.” I studied the atlas. “But his identity is somewhere right here. On these highways. We ID him and it gets a whole lot easier to find him. It doesn’t matter where he is now.”
“And how you going to do that? You got a time machine around here? Go back a few weeks, plant yourself in a lawn chair on the side of the I-465, and note every truck that laps you three times?”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do.” I smiled. “Minus the lawn chair.”
Twenty Four
THE TRIANGULATION REPORT WAS HELPFUL, but I still didn’t have a name, and while I was one step closer to building my profile on the Banker, I needed a lot more. If I could identify his vehicle and grab the plates, I could run him through the DMV database and then I’ve got him.
It used to be easy to use false information to obtain a sham vehicle registration, but since 9-11, those days are long done. Now, state DMVs cross-reference drivers’ data with other federal databases to identify any fraudulent information. Try and get a license or registration using a social security number from a dead guy, and their system flags you. Chances are there would be something in the Banker’s registration that could lead me to him. An address, a name, a social security number, a VIN. There’s something in there. I just had to find it. But to get a vehicle registration, I needed his vehicle or his license plates, neither of which I had. Not yet. But I thought of a way to get it, even if it was a long shot.
If the Banker was traveling the same route every day, that meant he was passing the same traffic cameras every day. If I could get a look at that footage I might be able to match a vehicle to the Banker’s traffic patterns and times. Unfortunately, that information isn’t available on any database I had access to. It would require a contact at the Indianapolis Police Department, something I didn’t have. I did however know of someone who knew someone at the Cincinnati Police Department who might be able to make an introduction.
I PULLED INTO THE PARKING lot of the Cincinnati Savings and Loan at 11:00 am. The security guard didn’t give me a second look when I walked in, probably because I wasn’t carrying a bulky duffle like before. I had only been in the lobby for a few seconds when Stephanie approached. This time she was wearing flats. They didn’t look as good as the black high heels she wore last week, but they were probably much more comfortable.
“Mr.?”
“Finn,” I said.
“Right. Back to see Mr. Cooper?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Probably not,” I said.
“Let me see if he’s in.” She turned and headed toward his office. I didn’t want to give Cooper the chance to tell her to turn me away, so I followed her down the hall. She had just poked her head into his office, when I squeezed by her and sat down in the seat across from Cooper’s desk. He exhaled, shook his head, and waved Stephanie away.
“What in the hell are you doing back here? I already talked to my wife and got your daughter on the squad.” He lowered his voice. “She’s on the squad.”
“I know and thanks for that. Becca is thrilled about it. Really wants to let her school spirit fly at the basketball game next Wednesday. Anyway, I’m here for another favor.”
Cooper closed the office door and went back to his desk. “You can’t just pop in here with favors.”
“You obviously have no idea how blackmail works, do you?”
He slumped his elbows forward on the desk and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t have any money for you. I swear I don’t. If you’re looking for money, I can’t help you.”
“I don’t want your money, Cooper.”
“Then what is it?” He lifted his head.
“Last week you said something about being friends with the Chief of Police. Is that true, or were you just blowing smoke up my ass?”
“He’s my brother-in-law.”
“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”
“Why?”
“I need a favor. I need you to have the chief vouch for me with Indianapolis PD. And I need to get access to their traffic cameras. All the cameras for I-465.”
“What in the hell does this have to do with cheerleading?”
“Nothing. We’re well past that, Coop. Try to keep up. I need you to call him and make it happen.”
“He can’t do that.”
“Sure he can. It happens all the time. Just tell him you and I are good friends,
and that I’m a PI and I need access to the cameras for a case I’m working on.” I smiled at Cooper. “Half of that statement is true.”
“I’m going to need more than that.”
“Tell him that I’m working an investigation into illegal drug activity in Indianapolis. Tell him it’s big-time. Not street dealers, but a regional distributor. You tell your brother-in-law that if he gets me access to their traffic cameras, I’ll turn over all the evidence I have to Indianapolis PD, and they can make the bust. They’ll get all the credit, and your brother-in-law gets an assist. He’ll love you for it.”
I had no intention of turning Holbrook over to the Indianapolis PD, but I needed to give Cooper something to work with.
Cooper stroked his chin. “If I do this, you and me are square. You destroy all the photos you have and you don’t come back here again. I mean it.”
I reached out and shook Cooper’s hand. “I give you my word Coop, you get me access to those cameras and you’ll never see me again.”
I gave Cooper my encrypted email address and told him to send me the link and the log-in information for the I-465 cameras. Then I thanked him, stepped out of his office, waved to Stephanie, and walked out of the building.
Twenty Five
BROOKE HAD PUT ON A brave face after her encounter with Adler, but she wouldn’t be able to wear it forever. I wanted to talk to her to give her an update on the shitty situation her boyfriend had created for all of us, and make sure she and Becca were okay.
“How’s your sister’s place?” I said.
“It’s fine. Becca and I are staying in the guest bedroom.”
“You still feeling all right? Any headaches?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“How’s Becca? Any nightmares? Does she talk about it? About Adler?”
Brooke was silent for a moment before she spoke. “She hasn’t mentioned it. Probably still processing it.”
“How’s she taking to the new place?”
“I think she likes spending some time with Allison.”
“Has Allison been asking any questions?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” said Brooke.
“Did my name come up?”
“My sister never brings you up.”
Allison never liked me. She hated me when Brooke and I dated and loathed me when we got married. To her, I’d always be an “I told you so”. For as much as she crapped in my cereal, her husband Bill actually liked me. That probably made her hate me even more.
“Have you talked to Daryl?” I asked, recalling my earlier conversation with Becca.
“I’m not taking his calls. He stopped by a few times at the hospital to talk, but so far I’ve been able to avoid him. I’m still too pissed to talk to him right now.”
“You can’t avoid him forever,” I said. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with the prick.”
“We’ll see.” She paused. “What about you? Are you any closer to finding this person you’re looking for?”
“Inching closer. This guy is a real ghost. No name, no location, no nothing.”
“How are you going to find him then?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“What are they going to do with him if…” she caught herself, “…when you find him?”
“If he’s still alive, nothing good I suppose.”
“What did he do? Why are they looking for him?”
“He did what they always do. He took the money and ran.”
There was a static snarl on the line, and it sounded like Brooke had covered the receiver with her hand, as if she didn’t want me to hear something. The sound of her breath returned a moment later. “Do you really think…” I could hear her tearing up through the receiver. “…Think this guy is going to let Daryl out of this?”
I wasn’t completely positive what Holbrook would do, but it wasn’t something I wanted Brooke thinking about. “Yes, I do,” I said. “We’ll all get out of this, and then we can put it behind us.”
I heard her swipe a tissue from its box. “Finn, thanks again for taking this on. You didn’t have to do anything. Or you could have gone to the police. So thank you. And I… I’m sorry that I brought you into this.”
I did think about going to the police, but that would have only made things worse. Holbrook didn’t get to where he was by being stupid, and who knows how much police influence he had purchased.
“You didn’t bring me into this,” I said. “That’s on Daryl. And don’t worry about it, anyway. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Like I said, in a week this will all be over.” There was a long pause. “When Becca wakes up, tell her I love her. Now get some sleep yourself, and stop worrying about all this. It’ll be over soon.”
I clicked off the receiver and hoped I was right.
Twenty Six
I LOGGED INTO MY EMAIL the next morning and found a note from Cooper.
From: [email protected]
Sent: September 30, 10:13:34 PM EDT
To: [email protected]
Subject: Traffic Cameras
I talked to my brother-in-law. I should have had him arrest your sorry ass for blackmail. He got you limited access to the traffic camera system for 48 hours. That’s it. He said if you find anything to contact him and he can take any evidence to the Indianapolis PD.
Link: http://IndianaStateTrafficSystem/admin
Password: cooperTEMP1234
Don’t come to my office again, asshole!
Michael Cooper
I wasn’t sure that Cooper or his brother-in-law were going to come through, but apparently the thought of a potential drug bust was enough for Indianapolis PD to give me temporary access to a few traffic cameras. Some law enforcement officers have a quid pro quo mentality, and that usually ended up in their favor. Over the years, I’d worked with detectives in several police departments. I could get information they couldn’t get and they had the tools and resources that would otherwise be off limits to someone like me. Working together we did more good than harm, and it seemed Indianapolis PD was taking a chance on me. And it’s not like they were giving me the keys to the armory. The traffic system only offered real-time and archival footage from the I-465 traffic cameras. What’s the worst that could happen?
Connor hadn’t arrived from his hotel yet, and forty-eight hours wasn’t a lot of time, so I started without him. After logging into the system, a map of Indianapolis popped up on the left side of the screen. The map was speckled with what looked like a hundred green dots, which I assumed indicated the locations of the city’s traffic cameras. The right side of the screen was divided into two quadrants. The upper section was blank, and the lower section displayed a dashboard with several drop-down menus. These menus allowed me to pull up real-time traffic feeds from any of the outer belt’s traffic cameras or access the camera archives going back 30 days. I could also click on the green dots overlaying the city map and access the cameras that way.
Thanks to the cell phone triangulation report that Connor provided, I had the Banker’s approximate route along I-465, and thanks to the time stamp, I knew when he was in the general area. My plan was to pull up the archival footage from each of the traffic cameras near the Banker’s known locations along I-465. Normally that wouldn’t amount to much because I assumed most drivers on I-465 pass the same cameras around the same time every day, especially as they travel to and from their home or jobs, but the Banker’s routine was different from everyone else’s routine. The Banker lapped I-465 three times before taking another highway. It reminded me of an old friend in the Army Reserve who was stationed near Cincinnati years ago. He told me that once a week, to maintain their driving skills, they’d caravan military trucks around I-275, the Cincinnati outer belt, for hours at a time, sometimes lapping it four or five times. The Banker was doing the same thing, but he wasn’t doing it to keep his skills sharp, he was doing it to protect his cargo.
If I could use the traffic came
ras to identify a common vehicle, one that passed the same traffic cameras at the same time each day as the Banker, I might be able to identify his vehicle. And if I could identify his vehicle, I might be able to pull a plate. And if I could pull a plate, I could run it through the DMV database and that would identify our man. And even if I couldn’t get a visual on his plate, I could at least search the DMV database for the make and model of the vehicle. The key was to get all the information on the Banker that I could until I had something that provided a name and a face. You have to follow the breadcrumbs, and the only crumb I had was a burner cell number, which led me to the triangulation report, which led to me sitting on my ass watching traffic camera footage.
Finding the Banker this way was a long shot, but I’ve made long shots before, and I learned years ago that in this business you don’t just believe in miracles, you rely on them. Time to start praying. But first, I headed back to the coffee pot.
WITH A CUP OF COFFEE in one hand and my notepad in the other, I dove headfirst into the Indiana State Traffic System. I knew that the Banker was lapping the I-465 belt three times, and thanks to the Internet, I also knew that it was 52.79 miles around I-465. I also had a starting point, because according to the triangulation report, the first cell tower to pick up the Banker’s signal each day was near exit 4 at 9:15 am. That didn’t mean he entered the highway at the same time, but it was probably within a few-minute window.
I assumed if the Banker was spending that much time on the highway, he’d probably set his cruise control around 65 mph. He’d keep his speed near the limit because he wouldn’t risk a highway patrolman tagging him for going over the speed limit. And he was going nowhere in particular, which meant there was no reason to speed to get there.
I opened the calculator on my phone to figure the distance. If the Banker was traveling at a constant 65 mph around a 52.79 mile track, it would take him 48 minutes to reach his starting point. Assuming he entered the highway on exit 4 at sometime around 9:15 am, according to the triangulation report, he’d pass the exit 4 camera again around 10:03 am. He’d pass it again on this third lap around 10:51 am.
