"What?"
"Her email. Can you get copies of it?"
"Oh. Yeah. Like I said, I'll have to work my way in sideways, in case somebody notices, but yeah. I should be able to get it."
"You didn't look to see what was there?" Jansen hid his exasperation.
"There wasn't anything yet. The warrant hit yesterday. It'll take a little while for them to get that set up. Maybe tonight there'll be something there. Depends on how much email she gets."
"Is it just email?" Jansen asked.
"No. Sorry. I just used that as a catchall. They're monitoring all her web traffic. Searches, web browsing, the whole schmear."
"Good. I want it. All of it."
"Man, Art. That really ups the ante; the risk is huge."
"So's what I'm paying you. You got a problem? Don't forget that video of you and -- "
"No, man. It's not like that. The problem is, for me to copy those email files, I'm going to need to bring somebody else in."
"Who?"
"I'll have to find out who's been assigned, okay?"
"Okay. Let me know as soon as you can. And if you've got anything we can use for leverage over whoever it is, give me that, too. Don't string this out; we're in a hurry, you understand?"
"Sure. Yeah, Art. It's just that you need to be ready to pay whoever this is, man. That's all. Assuming it's somebody that'll play along with us."
"They'll play along. Or else."
"Or else? Come on, Art. There's only so much I can -- "
"Remember the video. We'll meet tonight. You know where and when."
Jansen dropped a $20 bill on the table as he stood up.
"I want the name of the person who can get us the email and the particulars then." He turned and walked through the door, leaving the man gulping his drink.
****
"I like the place that's on its own island best," Kathy said.
"Yeah, me too," Frank said. They were in the main saloon, Frank's laptop on the table where they could both see the screen.
"Should I send them an email and see if we can set up a meeting for early tomorrow afternoon?"
"Yeah, do it. I definitely want to see the place. It looks almost too perfect, from the pictures."
"It looks like the kind of place I imagined," Frank said. "But who knows? Pictures can be fudged, just like financials."
"Ain't it the truth?" Kathy said. "Is that a hint?"
"Yeah, babe. We need to crank out a prospectus and a brochure or two."
"I can start grinding on the prospectus; that won't take long. All that bullshit verbiage is just cut and paste stuff. Nobody reads it anyway. The numbers are pretty simple, too. I'll get my laptop out and get to work."
"Good. I can dummy up a brochure, so we can just lay in the stuff for the resort. That way, we can move fast once we pick a place."
"You got time to do that? I thought you were still moving money around, working the float."
"I am. But that's pretty quick, and I have to leave some timing gaps between transactions, anyhow. I can work up the brochure while I'm waiting for transactions to clear."
"How much is still in U.S. banks?"
"Oh, a couple million; I'm letting that sit to keep the average balances up in case anybody decides to check us out. The rest is spread around -- Bahamas, Cayman Islands, Antigua."
"Speaking of Antigua," Kathy said, "are you going to invite that guy from the bank out for cocktails?"
"Yeah, I thought I would. I figure if we like the looks of the place tomorrow, maybe we should get the resort manager and whoever would be our working contact to come out. I'll call the guy from the bank once we set it up. Can't hurt to make nice with him and let the people from the resort see we already have a presence."
"I agree. I've got this off-the-wall idea, speaking of making nice."
"What? Tell me."
"I'm thinking about Connie," Kathy said.
"What about her?"
"She's smooth and articulate, not to mention physically attractive. Paul's no slouch, either."
"So?"
"I'm thinking they might be candidates. What's your gut reaction?"
"A cop? You serious?"
"She's the entrepreneur; she's the one that makes this business go. He's a great chef, and nice-looking. Plays well with others. He was a homicide cop, and anyway, he's retired. She's a hustler, Frank. I can spot 'em; you know that."
"I don't know," Frank said, frowning. "Her? Yeah, in a heartbeat. She could sell anything, especially if the customer's male. But a cop?" He shook his head.
"Think about how that would play, Frank. Having a retired cop on board? And he was a bigshot, too, like a lieutenant, or a captain, I'm pretty sure. Think instant credibility, babe. That speaks, you know?"
"Yeah, I can see that, all right. But it's risky."
"Shit, Frank," she laughed and shook her head. "Our whole fuckin' life's risky, babe. We don't gotta decide right now. Just think about it, okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
"Good. If we have a few people out for cocktails tomorrow evening, we can see how they work the guests, but I think they'll be great. I'm thinking down the road, we'll maybe use them to help recruit the other Global Directors."
"You think they have enough money to be worth the risk?" Frank asked.
"Yeah, my bet is they do, or can get it. This damn boat's worth a million, easy."
"Maybe. How would you know?"
"I saw their insurance policy in some papers in one of the pigeon holes over that desk." She indicated the chart table with a sideways nod.
"Probably mortgaged," Frank said.
"Nope. Free and clear. There was no loss payable clause in their policy."
"Hmm," Frank said.
"Think about it." Kathy patted him on the shoulder. "I'll start feeling her out a little bit over the next day or two, just to see how she reacts."
Chapter 15
"Everything okay?" Paul asked, as Connie joined him in the cockpit.
"Sure. Why do you ask?"
"You were below longer than I expected. That's all. I thought maybe you were having trouble with the satcom gear, or the Lewises couldn't get logged on, or something."
"No, they got on with no trouble. I left them in the saloon and went up to our cabin. I got an email from my cousin, responding to the one I sent him the other day. I just took a few minutes to read it and respond. Miss me?"
"I always miss you when you're not with me."
"Sure you do, you smooth-talking man. Any coffee left in the thermos?"
"I think so. Pour us a cup, why don't you?"
Connie filled their mugs and sat down beside Paul. "I can't get used to the idea that I have family," she said.
"You like it?" Paul asked.
She shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. For almost all my adult life, I didn't have to think about anybody but myself, and then you came along."
"Sorry," Paul said, feigning worry.
"Oh, don't be silly. You know what I mean. It was an adjustment. I'm not sure how I feel about this Leon thing."
"He's what? A first cousin?" Paul asked.
"Yes. And it's not like we have any shared experiences, but still, it's a funny feeling."
"That's a pretty close relationship; you might have a lot in common. Not like a sibling, but -- "
"I don't see that. What could I have in common with him? I've never even met him."
"You'll never know, unless you keep in touch with him. You might be surprised."
"You sound like you might have some experience with this. I didn't know you had any close relatives left. Something you haven't told me?"
"Well, I guess you could look at it like that. It's not the same, but my father had a first cousin that he didn't connect with until much later in life. They never even met, but it was eerie to learn how many odd little things they had in common. Stuff stays in families for a lot longer than people realize."
"What kind of 'stuff?'"
"Facia
l expressions, quirky little phrases, the way somebody holds a knife and fork. Dozens of things that you don't think about until they pop up unexpectedly. I was stunned when I met that guy at my father's funeral."
"But they weren't close?"
"No. Hadn't seen one another since they were old enough to remember, if ever. Their fathers were brothers who'd drifted apart. No animosity -- just different lives, you know?"
"I suppose. But he came to your father's funeral?"
"They'd been writing to one another off and on in later years. His cousin was older, and when he retired, he'd gotten interested in genealogy. He wrote my father with some questions, I guess. Anyway, it blew me away."
"Was there a strong resemblance?"
"Not in appearance, particularly. But yeah, otherwise. It was like hearing my dad's voice when I heard him asking someone 'Where's Paul?' The inflection was the same. And sitting with him afterwards, watching him stir his coffee and put the spoon down in exactly the same way in exactly the same place relative to the saucer? Wow! I'll never forget that."
"Have you kept in touch?"
"No. He died not long after my dad."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Who knows how deep those shared traits went?" Paul said, shaking his head. "So don't assume that you won't find common ground with your cousin, if you decide to pursue a relationship."
"I'm not sure I want to do that."
"Well, it's not an earth-shattering decision, either way. But don't overlook the fact that you sent him an email after he called."
"Does that surprise you?"
"A little. You're not normally gregarious."
"I'm hardly a shy, wilting violet."
"No, you're not. But that's not the same. Don't over analyze it; it was just a casual observation."
"I know, but there's one thing I've learned about you that makes me take heed when you say things like that."
"What's that?"
"Your instincts about people are uncanny. There's no such thing as a casual observation when it comes from you."
"Well, you'll figure out how you want to deal with Leon. It's good that you two are in touch for now, anyway. Just see where it goes. Family can be a good thing to have."
They sat, sipping their coffee in silence for a few minutes. Paul had a hand resting on the helm as he tweaked their course every so often.
"How are you feeling about the Lewises," Connie asked, in a quiet tone. "Speaking of your instincts."
Paul shrugged and thought for a moment. "Neutral, I guess."
"Even after what Noah Johnson said?"
He raised his eyebrows and turned to face her. "Being on some list doesn't mean people have done anything wrong. I'm surprised at you. Yesterday, you were complaining about Big Brother. Did I miss something?"
"No, I guess not. It just seems ... "
"Keep an open mind, skipper. No jumping to conclusions. Nothing's changed between us and them. Tamp down your suspicions. Don't buy into half-baked theories, or you'll start acting differently toward them. Remember, innocent until ... "
"Yes, sir. I know you're right; it's just that I haven't had as much practice at hiding my suspicions as you have."
"No, but you're amazing when it comes to working a confidence game, and that's just a different application of the same skills. Think about it." He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Take the helm for a second. I'll go see if our guests need a fresh pot of coffee, or some juice."
****
"$25,000!" Jansen hissed. "That's outrageous. What the hell's she doing to be worth that kinda money? She sleeping with you, or something?"
"Easy, Art. She's old enough to be my mother -- maybe even my grandmother, okay?"
"I don't care; that's still a lot of money every month."
"Not every month, Art. Only as long as you want all those email intercepts."
"I want to meet this old broad, then. I gotta see who I'm paying."
"Sorry man, but there's no way that can happen. As far as she knows, I'm paying her."
"You! Where the hell would you be getting that kinda bread?"
"I can't tell her; she suspects I'm CIA, or maybe NSA."
"What? How dumb is this woman? Why the hell would the CIA or the NSA be paying somebody inside the FBI for information?"
"Same reason as anybody else, I guess. All I know is they do it regularly, like clockwork."
"Are you telling me you're on their payroll?"
The man smiled. "I can neither confirm nor deny that."
"Shit! You said you had something for me. It better be fucking good. Let's have it."
The man put a microSD card on the table, sliding it toward Jansen.
"Tell me what's there."
"All the web traffic from her boat for the time since the warrant was issued. We're working on tracking down the older stuff."
"Emails?"
"Yeah. A few from Barrera and her husband's account. Most of them are from two other people; looks like a husband and wife, maybe. Kathy and Frank Lewis. Ring any bells for you?"
Jansen shook his head. "What's in them?"
"Hers are to a guy named Leon Contreras. They appear to be catching up on family shit of some kind, like they're related, maybe."
"Could be some kind of code," Jansen said.
The man nodded. "Yeah. That's what we thought, too."
"We?"
"My grandmother and I."
"Contreras this guy's real name?" Jansen asked.
The man shrugged. "We're checking. His IP address puts him in Bakersfield."
"California?" Jansen asked.
The man nodded.
"When will you have something on him?"
"Tomorrow, if that's his real name."
Jansen nodded. "And what about the Lewises?"
"Most of their traffic's related to moving money. The email addresses they're sending to are bogus. We're backtracking them, but our bet is they're going to lead to offshore banks that aren't very cooperative."
"Lots of money?"
"Probably, but it's hard to tell for sure. They talk about so many units from here to there. Who knows what a unit is?"
"How do you even know it's money?"
"We've seen this before in money laundering operations."
"So what kind of value would a unit have there?"
"Never less than a million. Sometimes ten or even a hundred million."
Jansen sat for a minute, thinking. The man took a sip of his beer and stared at the wall behind Jansen.
"You said most of the Lewis's emails were like that. What about the others?"
"There were only few others. They looked to be arranging for a meeting with the management of a resort for tomorrow afternoon."
"What kind of meeting?"
"It's all there, on the chip."
"It damn well better be, or you and granny won't be around to spend the money you're stealing from me. Now, tell me about this meeting."
The man blinked and started talking, referring to a pocket notebook occasionally. Jansen stared at him, committing his words to memory.
****
"Okay if I join you for a little bit?" Kathy asked, pausing at the top of the companionway ladder.
"Of course," Connie said. "Taking a break from your working lunch?"
"Yeah. Boy, that husband of yours is something else. His idea of a light lunch is awesome!"
"That's what we like to hear."
"Not only does he cook, but he cleans up afterward."
"I thought all husbands were like that. No?"
"Not mine. He's zonked."
"Napping?"
"Yeah. Paul encouraged him; said he was going to do the same as soon as he finished the lunch dishes."
"You two have put in a lot of working time for being on a vacation."
"You know how it is; you've run businesses, right?"
"A few."
"Customers, investors, they're all the same," Kathy said. "They think o
ur world revolves around them."
Connie smiled. "And it does, if you want repeat business and good word of mouth advertising."
"Yep. You've been there, all right."
"I'm there right now, Kathy; it's fun. I wouldn't have it any other way."
"I can see that. You and Paul are perfect for this. I know he's retired from the police, but you must have done some high-level selling in your day. Am I right?"
"Some, yes," Connie said, stealing a glance at Kathy's face, trying to read her expression.
"Real estate?"
"No, I never sold real estate."
"Banking? I could see you in retail banking. Maybe even commercial. You've got some financial background. I could tell from the way you followed our pitch that first day."
"No, I never did that, but I worked quite a bit with some commercial banks. I was involved in a good-sized personal service business, running the back office, mostly. So I have a good working knowledge of finance in mid-market businesses."
"I see. What kind of personal services? Like spas, or gyms, maybe?"
"Close. We called it vanity health care."
"Vanity health care, huh? That's got a nice ring to it, but what does it mean, really?"
"Weight loss clinics. But health care played better when we were soliciting investors, and our customers didn't need to be reminded that it all centered on their being overweight."
Kathy laughed. "I like that. I knew you'd been in the financial game, somewhere."
"Only peripherally," Connie said. "Nothing like you and Frank."
"Well, I'm not so sure; talking people into investing is what we do; it sounds like that's what you did, too."
"That was part of it, all right," Connie said.
"I'll bet you were good at it. Did you like it?"
"It was okay. I liked it better than pitching our customers, that's for sure."
"Why was that?" Kathy asked.
"Selling a potential investor felt like a win-win; we were both getting something concrete out of it. Selling some poor woman who'd had a weight problem all her life on the idea that we could fix it with no pain or effort on her part was a little less comfortable for me."
"I see. So how'd you square that with your conscience, then?"
"After I watched the faces of the first few, I realized that I was giving them hope, which was something they had lost, most of them. Making them believe they deserved to feel good about themselves, and that they could do that by working on their problems ... well ... giving them hope in exchange for money, that was sort of a win-win, too."
Sails Job - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 6th Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers) Page 11
