“I want to call my lawyer,” was the first thing she said.
Gracie called Mariah Kowzlowski, who showed up forty-five minutes later. She took a seat on the same side of the gray metal table with Amber. Detective Howard sat across from them. Howard explained the charges to the attorney. “This time it’s more serious,” he said. “Embezzlement, grand theft of nearly a half million dollars.”
$423,890, to be exact. Amber forced her face to remain neutral, thinking of butterflies, unicorns, the last good book she’d read …
“Where’s your proof that my client had anything to do with this alleged crime?”
“Ms. Zeckis is in a position, in her job at Blackwell-Gorse, to have access to the computer codes and information necessary to carry out the banking transfers. And a forensic search of the company computer issued to her, shows that her login information was used to gain access to the company bank accounts and transfer the money out.”
The bulldog lit on him. “Blackwell-Gorse is a huge corporation, with more than two thousand employees worldwide. Any one of them could have carried out this alleged crime.”
“Using her private password that she alone knows?”
“My client’s company computer was taken from her possession a week ago and she has been at home, completely without access to anything related to Blackwell-Gorse. Whoever has accessed this latest withdrawal most certainly wasn’t Ms. Zeckis, and it’s most certainly the same person who made the earlier withdrawals.”
“Are you sure that’s true?” Howard responded. “There’s evidence that a copy of the company computer’s hard drive was made, early on the day Ms. Zeckis turned the computer back to them.”
Amber swallowed hard and hoped he didn’t notice.
“All of that is a matter for the court to determine, whether your so-called forensic evidence is valid. Meanwhile, I am here to take my client home. She was already released on the earlier charge, and she’s under mandate not to leave the county. If you have further questions for her, they can take place at my office.” Kowzlowski started to gather her papers, as if to leave.
Amber held her breath but Howard didn’t cave. “Nice try, Ms. Kowzlowski, but the judge will have to decide in the morning.”
Mariah’s mouth pinched into a tight line, but she didn’t respond to the detective. “Amber, hang in there and don’t say anything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * *
The courtroom in the downtown judicial complex was no more than a quarter full, people sitting in the gallery, conversing quietly as they waited for whatever reason the judge would call them. Gracie looked around, wondering—since this was criminal court—what those various reasons might be. It could become an interesting hobby, hanging around a courtroom such as this just to see the various dramas unfold.
Kowzlowski nudged her elbow and nodded toward the first row of seats. “We’re second on the docket, as soon as the judge gets back from his coffee break. It’s Rheingold, and I swear the man has a bladder the size of a peanut. Always a lot of recesses during his trials.”
As if he had heard her (and maybe he had—her voice wasn’t exactly a whisper), the bailiff stepped forward, calling order and announcing the judge. Gracie took a seat next to Amber’s new attorney. The judge did all the usual moves—tapped his gavel, told everyone to sit, glanced down at papers in front of him, and called the first case.
Gracie was a little stunned at how quickly it happened. A man accused of second-degree murder stood beside his lawyer, pled not guilty, was denied bail and sent back to jail. The young lawyer beside him made no attempt to argue. He gave his client what he must have hoped was a reassuring look as a deputy led him through an ominous door at the side of the courtroom.
“Next case!” A bang of the gavel. “The state of Arizona versus Amber Zeckis. Is the attorney for the accused here in the courtroom?”
Mariah stood and stepped forward. “I am, your honor.”
The judge motioned her to pass through the bar and take a place at the defendant’s table. Amber came in, cuffed and wearing jailhouse orange, looking as though she hadn’t slept three minutes all night, which was probably close to the truth.
“The charges are grand theft, embezzlement, and failure to declare a large amount of cash at US Customs. How do you plead?”
Gracie didn’t even hear Amber’s timid “Not guilty.” Her ears were ringing with the words grand theft and embezzlement. The words sounded so ominous.
Her attention went back to the front of the room as Kowzlowski presented her reasons why Amber should be allowed out on bond. Upstanding citizen, no prior record, no solid evidence against her.
A man at the prosecution table took his turn next. “Your honor, the accused was caught coming into the country with a large amount of undeclared cash. Upon investigation, it has been discovered that her employer, Blackwell-Gorse Technologies, has been the target of a large embezzlement. Ms. Zeckis is in a position, in her job there, to have access to the computer codes and information necessary to carry out the crime.”
The bulldog lit on him. “Your honor, Blackwell-Gorse is a huge corporation, with more than two thousand employees worldwide. Any one of them could have carried out this alleged crime, and there is nothing yet to suggest that my client had a part in it.”
“She’s a flight risk,” the prosecutor insisted. “She has demonstrated that she can leave the country on a whim and has the means to do so.”
“My client surrendered her passport willingly and will stipulate that she will not leave the state of Arizona until her name has been cleared.”
Bang went the gavel. “So ordered. The passport stays in police custody and the accused will post bond of $100,000. Next case!”
Mariah gave Amber’s hand a reassuring squeeze as the bailiff led her out through a side door. She turned to Gracie and said, “Paperwork takes a little while. We’ll meet you downstairs.”
Gracie was waiting in the lobby, her expression clearly relieved when she saw Amber and Mariah coming her way.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” she said, putting an arm around Amber’s shoulders. “You’ve got to be starving. What would be your dream meal? My treat.”
“I’m not hungry. I just want to go home and have an hour-long shower.” She slumped in the passenger seat of Gracie’s van and stared out the window the whole way to Scottsdale.
Back at the condo, they opened the door to find the whole place in disarray. There was a copy of a search warrant lying on the back of the sofa.
“They searched my home, without me even knowing it.” Amber’s voice was on the edge of angry tears.
Gracie stood stock still. “Let’s get inside. I’ll help you straighten up everything.”
Amber rushed to her home office, where the chaos was most evident. Every drawer of her desk, every book on the shelves, had been pulled out and dumped. Her bedroom was slightly less disturbed, although when she looked in her dresser drawers it was evident someone had pawed through all her clothing.
“What were they looking for?” Gracie asked, from the doorway.
“The hard drive.” Amber instantly regretted voicing this aloud. What if they had planted a listening device?
Chapter 36
The high-speed train had Wi-Fi and Cody put it to good use. He’d dumped his bag and computer case on the seats across from him so no one else would take those spots, and he set up his own little mini-desk on the table between. Now that Pop’s instructions were out of his head, he had a clear path to follow and he was making good headway.
Through his login information for Blandishment Inc., he had set up six more online banking accounts—three in America, three in offshore tax havens. Already, he’d moved money in small uneven increments to each of them.
The old man had sputtered when Cody told him this was how it was going to be, but he decided, screw that. Let him stew. This wasn’t the 1960s, and Cody knew what he was doing. The conversation rankled a little, still. And there wou
ld be a lecture when he got back to Jersey.
For now, he just had to figure out how he would deal with the cash he’d already collected in Paris and London. It was stupid of him to have listened to the old man this long. He put that out of his mind while he checked one last thing.
A week ago, he’d set up one final automatic transfer from the B-G corporate account, all done with Amber’s credentials, of course, and now he saw it had gone through seamlessly. He had to admit he’d held his breath on that one, knowing she’d been caught with the cash in Customs, but most likely since this final transfer had already been in the system, no one was the wiser.
He wondered what she was doing now. He’d tried a few tentative texts, but she hadn’t responded. He had to assume she was royally pissed if she figured out he was the one who’d put the cash in her suitcase. Surely, the cops had taken the money away, and that would be the last of it. Maybe another week or two for her to cool off and he’d try reaching out to her again.
Or not. Maybe Pop was right about that part of it. A mark was a mark, and you didn’t get personally involved with them. Do the con, leave ’em hanging, get on to the next thing. And his next thing, right now, was to get this money spread out without leaving any kind of clear trail that could tie it back to him. Layers, lots of layers. He and Pop would each have a little to live on for a year or two, and then he could gradually start to access the bigger accounts.
A train attendant came by, offering drinks and snacks, and he took the little tray she held out. A beef sandwich and some kind of salad he didn’t recognize. He asked for a Coke even though he’d rather have a Scotch. But he needed a clear head for his last few moves. He could relax once he reached his hotel in Edinburgh.
He thought about the two women he’d spotted in Paris and London. Where were they now? He had hung back at the train station, watching the crowd in case they had somehow figured out his plans, even watched most all the other passengers board before he stepped on. No sign of them. Maybe they hadn’t actually been following him at all? Maybe they were simply tourists? That was good—one less worry for this final leg of his trip.
Waverly Station was bustling, even at ten p.m., and he found the information desk where he inquired about the distance to the Hilton. A chuckle from the man and a rapid explanation, which Cody had to ask him to repeat twice. It was going to take a little while to adapt his ear to the Scottish accent. It turned out the hotel was around the corner and a block down.
He hoisted his backpack and grabbed the handle of the wheeled bag and set off walking, hoping like hell this was a safe city at night. Five minutes later he was walking through the front doors of the castle-like building. The lobby was teeming with tourists (German, from their conversations) and he waited in line while tour guides collected room keys for them. All he wanted was to disappear in a big and bustling place, and it seemed he’d found it.
It was nearing midnight by the time he finished his shower, flopped down in a chair in the small room, and switched on the TV. Maybe a half hour of some mindless talk show would make him drowsy enough to sleep. He had banking to do in the morning, and with luck would be out of here soon.
The default channel on TV seemed to be international news, but before he could decide whether to switch upward or down on the channel numbers the banner running along the bottom of the screen caught his eye.
Tech giant Blackwell-Gorse hacked.
Cody turned up the volume and had to wait for two other stories to be talked to death before the commentator got back to this one.
“In breaking news from America,” the pretty blonde began, “tech giant Blackwell-Gorse seemingly has been hacked. Money from the corporate banking accounts is missing, and at the center of it all is an employee. The young woman was initially questioned nearly two weeks ago when she returned to the US on an international flight and a large amount of cash was discovered in her luggage.”
So far, all the video was of the front of the corporate headquarters in Phoenix, signage of the corporate B-G logo, and some generic footage of office workers in cubicles that could have been taken anywhere. But Cody knew exactly who they were talking about.
“After an extensive investigation by authorities, including the confiscation of the employee’s computer and cell phone, Amber Zeckis was arrested today in Phoenix, Arizona. Corporate officials are saying nothing, and our business correspondent theorizes they will continue to maintain silence on the subject.” The blonde turned to an equally blonde man at the desk beside her. “That stance would be typical for a multinational corporation, wouldn’t it, Ian?”
“Most definitely. It’s a source of embarrassment for a business to admit that an employee might have accomplished something like this,” the thirty-something guy said. “And of course, unless the amount is in the hundreds of millions, it’s most likely a drop in the bucket, so to speak, for a company of this size.”
They immediately went on to another story, a dip in the price of the Chinese yuan, and Cody realized he’d been sitting bolt upright. He leaned back in the chair again.
Amber. He felt a moment’s regret that she’d actually been arrested. Her job hadn’t seemed so important, or the dollar amount so large, that he thought anyone would notice. As Pop said, those big businesses wrote off more in paperclips and lost ballpoint pens every year than what he’d taken.
The first time. But then there were the other cash transfers, including the most recent. Did they know about those yet?
He needed to finish moving this money, burying it deeper under layers of various names. And soon.
Chapter 37
“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” Pen said, as they turned over their luggage to an airline worker and headed toward the gate for their flight to Edinburgh.
“I did learn a lot about the rules of soccer,” Sandy said. There really was no other way to positive-spin the fact that they’d spent half a day on a false lead.
Pen gave a somewhat impatient look but checked herself. How could they have known what Cody would do next? And the idea was logical, that he would be looking for gullible women to carry the money for him … well, it might have worked out. She couldn’t blame Sandy for the decision.
The assistant coach they’d spoken with vowed that no one had approached them about handling their luggage and adamantly stated the sponsors and chaperones with the young women would never let them be taken in that way.
Pen wanted to tell them what had happened and the fact that it had happened to a pretty savvy young woman, but there was no point. All they could do was keep going forward. That’s when her phone rang and she saw it was Gracie.
“Not good news, I’m afraid,” Gracie began, hardly saying hello first.
“Arrested!” Pen immediately lowered her voice, although the terminal was so noisy no one would have noticed if she’d shouted it.
“I’m going to stay at her condo with her tonight,” Gracie said. “She’s scared and a little overwhelmed. The police searched the place, and I’m going to help her clean up.”
“Oh, that’s dreadful.” Pen saw Sandy was watching her closely. When she ended the call with Gracie, she passed the news along.
“Could this day get any worse?” Sandy moaned.
“Don’t invite it,” Pen said. “We are about to board an airplane.”
It was far too late to visit the bank by the time they arrived in the Scottish capital. They told an accommodating taxi driver they needed a hotel near that address, and he recommended the Hilton. A half hour later, the two women fell into their beds, exhausted. Decisions and chases could wait until the following morning.
Full sunlight came streaming into the room and Sandy rolled over with a groan, shocked to see that it was well past nine o’clock. She’d apparently forgotten to set an alarm. In the next bed, Pen breathed softly. Sandy got up and carried clean clothes into the bathroom. A shower would surely wake her up. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, Pen was up and heating the kettle.
“What do you think about our odds of catching up with the money today?” Sandy asked, accepting the basket with coffee and tea choices Pen handed over.
“I’d like to think we’ve finally caught up and are in the same city, and perhaps we’ll actually get to the bank first this time.” Pen glanced at the clock. “However, I’m keeping my hopes in check. The entire trip has proven frustrating.”
“Beyond frustrating,” Sandy agreed.
The kettle clicked off and Pen poured the boiling water into their mugs. “Do you think a telephone call might work as well as a personal visit?”
“The visit is probably better. I doubt they’ll share account information, but I want to show the photos of Cody and see if they’ll admit he’s their customer. At least we’ll know if this is still the right track.”
Pen carried her tea into the bathroom where she carefully applied minimal makeup and dressed in the suit that usually impressed bankers and other business types.
Ultimately, it was the same story. The account they were inquiring about was now closed. The crusty old man behind the desk yielded few details, although he did admit that the dark haired young man in the photo was the one who was here this morning when the bank opened.
Sandy gazed over at Pen. So close. Again.
“You understand, I’m certain, it’s a privacy issue,” the banker said. “You have no warrants and no law enforcement credentials. I canna tell you about another customer’s accounts.”
“Can you at least tell us this—did the young man withdraw the balance of the account in cash? Specifically, in US dollars?”
The man clamped his mouth shut, but a slight shake of the head told them that was not the case. With a sigh, the ladies stood, thanking him.
“Well, at least we could spend the day sightseeing,” Sandy said as they walked out of the manager’s office. “I wonder how far it is to the castle. It could be a nice walk.”
Show Me the Money Page 12
