by Tony Wiley
“His wife,” she said, “who discovered the dead bodies of her husband and her only child.”
He shook his head. “It saddens me as much as you, but it’s not my fault. Think about it. If I had gone there to kill him, would I have left my prints all over the place? I would at least have worn some gloves. Come on, it’s ridiculous.”
“Why did you flee then?”
“I had hired him to do something illegal, I don’t deny it. It would’ve meant trouble for me. And besides, you would’ve been inclined to think I’m guilty, right? So I preferred to avoid the trouble.”
“A hacker,” she said. He could see her trying to absorb the information. She thought about it for a moment before she asked, “What kind of work did you give him?”
That’s where it got interesting.
He began by recapping the failed operation from three years ago. She knew about it, of course, but she didn’t know everything. He provided her with a lot more details. The four other banks he had lined up, exactly the same way he had set up Chelfington Bank. Four hundred accounts for two million dollars per bank. As he spoke, her eyes widened. If he’d needed further proof of her innocence, there it was.
This was all news to her. A big surprise.
“When I was released from prison, I had to check if anybody had acted on this setup.” He decided to muddle things a bit to preserve Johnson’s anonymity. “So I contacted the hacker that had helped me with the setup and asked him to conduct an audit.” He made a small pause. He could see she was eager for him to continue with the story. “He found out that over a few days right after my arrest, eight million dollars were withdrawn through a string of ATMs in New York City according to my plans. Somebody had crossed me.”
An air of triumph spread across her face. “If somebody crossed you, that means you had accomplices. I knew it,” she said. “I knew it.”
She peered at the recorder, but he shook his head. “This stays off the record,” he said. “Of course I did. But I never told you about them. And I never will. I don’t rat on my friends. Besides, it’s not any one of them that crossed me. It was somebody else.”
She frowned. Clearly, she had not expected that.
He thought the moment was well chosen to make a longer pause. He remained silent and gazed at her with a serious mask.
Let her realize on her own that he had just said something important. Something really important.
As if she was picking up on his thoughts, he saw her face change. The confident façade started to give way. Doubts crept all over her.
“Why tell me all of this now?” she said. “Why be so open about all those crimes you committed?”
That’s right, he thought. You’re about to be hit by that eighteen-wheeler and have the wind knocked out of you. Sorry, but you asked for it.
He continued. “As you can imagine, we needed a lot of equipment to carry out that operation. Only sophisticated, top-quality gear would do. One of my associates was charged with sourcing it, and he was able to do it right here in Acton. Can you guess where?”
She didn’t say anything. But she could guess. Oh, yes, she could.
“That’s right,” he said. “Perkins Electronics. They had pretty much everything we needed.”
The truck was barrelling down toward her at full speed. Had lost all its brakes. She could see it coming. It was visible in her face. In those arched eyebrows. In the suddenly ashen color of her skin. She was no longer paying any attention to the voice recorder. At this point, turning it on would’ve been the furthest thing from her mind.
“Now, you’ve got to give it to him, Steve Perkins is a pretty clever guy. If I hadn’t seen him with you, in a private, intimate moment, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection.”
“What connection? What are you talking about?” she said.
“He’s the one who crossed me. He’s the one who put his hands on the jackpot.”
She fluttered her eyes as if she were trying to dislodge some little piece of dirt.
“Bullshit, Morrison. There’s no truth to that.” Her voice sounded weak, as if she were trying to convince herself.
“Remember when you arrested me?” he said. “I had a USB flash drive. The details of my setup were all in there. When your lover learned about it, he had no qualms about using you to access it. And then he sure made good use of it.”
She was staring into space. Stunned. “It’s not possible,” she said.
“It’s all true. By now, you know it. You’re a smart woman.”
“Steve would never do such a thing.”
“He admitted everything to me this morning. And he will pay what he owes me. Call him if you want. But think hard about what you’re gonna do with that information. Think real hard. Eight million bucks were stolen from four banks because of you. Because of your carelessness in handling some important piece of evidence. If it came to be known, that wouldn’t look good on you. It really wouldn’t.”
“Is that a threat, Morrison?”
“No, I’m simply stating facts. If you don’t release me, I will open my big mouth. And if something unfortunate ever happens to me, my associates will open their big mouths too. It’s as simple as that.”
“But the two murders? Who’s responsible for them?”
“Perkins told me that one of the banks’ security guys tracked him down a few days after he hit them and blackmailed him. My hacker lifted some dust and stumbled on that guy again a couple of days ago. That’s why he got taken care of. It’s a sad tragedy, but I strongly suggest you let the matter be. There’s no way to bring them back. Call Perkins if you want. He will tell you as much.”
She shook her head. Bit her lip. Then she left her things on the table and stormed out of the room.
When he was alone, he let out a big breath. That was a bold move, but he didn’t have a choice. He had to go for it if he wanted to get out of there.
His pitch had struck home. He knew it. But how would she react now?
Morrison rubbed his eyes with his free hand. The temperature had gone up quite a bit within that confined space. He could feel sweat pooling under his armpits.
As it turned out, she was only gone for a few minutes.
“You’re a scumbag, Morrison,” she said.
She held the key to his cuffs. Her face was ashen.
“No, I’m a pragmatic,” he said. “Just like you are.”
She bent over him and uncuffed his hand.
“Get out of here,” she said. “I never want to see your sorry face again.”
Chapter 53
Morrison didn’t waste time. He went to the desk, picked up his belongings from a bemused deputy and stormed out of the station.
Now that this little interlude was over, he needed to get back to business. He drove over to Cowgirl’s house and shared the latest developments with her.
“Christ, there’s never a dull moment with you, Morrison,” she said when he was finished.
He grinned. “Talk about an understatement,” he said.
“But are you sure Sanford’s not gonna do anything silly?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. That would be suicidal. She must be pissed as hell but she’s not dumb. She knows she has to bite the bullet.”
“Right. That’s the logical way to see this. The rational way. But what about her emotions?” She drew a blank stare from him. She pushed on. “She’s not just a sheriff. There’s a woman behind that badge. And she’s just been hurt by the man she loves. Hurt like hell. That could make her do something irrational.”
“She’s just released me, no?”
“She could have a change of heart and still get back at you. Honestly, if I were in her place, I’m not sure what I would do. But I’m sure I’d hurt like crazy.”
He pondered this for a moment. Cowgirl was right. He was still vulnerable. For sure, he didn’t expect anything fishy from Perkins. The businessman was definitely guilty of something. By paying Morrison back, he was getting ri
d of a big problem. For the businessman, now, it was only a matter of money, and he had plenty of it. So Morrison didn’t fear him in the least. But Sanford’s case was different. She had done nothing wrong. Nothing illegal, at least. She had just been careless. If that ordeal started to weigh too much on her, she could still decide to make it right. Arrest him once again and accept that Perkins would also be exposed. Of course, that would mean the end of her own career. But she could do it. She even had the financial means to lose her career, unlike most people.
“You’re right,” he said. “I should try to mitigate that risk.”
But how?
Cowgirl made some coffee. They settled into comfortable chairs in the living room and started to think about this.
People responded to incentives. Always had. Always would.
In the current situation, Sanford was not gaining anything. She was just avoiding a big, messy, catastrophic loss—that of her own reputation and her career.
But she was not gaining anything.
If he wanted to truly neutralize her, he needed to give her something more so she could come out of it with a real satisfaction. Not just the shameful impression that she had narrowly averted disaster.
This was not simple.
He had other problems to worry about. Not least among them, his partner Mike and his crazy blond sidekick. How would he handle them? Tomorrow, he would put his hands on a big pile of money. Then he would have to give his partner his share. That could prompt Mike to make a move on him. He looked at Cowgirl. He knew he could trust her one hundred percent. But Mike? No way. He had turned into a slimy snake. A nasty bastard. Just look at what he did to Laura.
He continued to think hard.
His mind going from one idea to the other.
Then he got a flash.
He closed his eyes to pore over it.
The idea was appealing.
The more he thought about it, the more he could see it working. Even if it was tricky.
After a long time, he reopened his eyes.
Maybe, if he played his cards well, there was a way to placate Sheriff Sanford after all.
He ran his idea by Cowgirl.
She stayed silent for a long time after he was finished. Mulling over what he’d just said with a dubious expression on her face. “Morrison, you’re half-mad and half-genius. I just can’t decide where this one fits.”
He smiled. “I know it’s not a slam dunk,” he said. “But I see no better way to put this whole affair to rest once and for all. And I also get to kill two birds with one stone.”
She tilted her head and grimaced. “It can work,” she said. “It can work. But I’m not convinced.”
Chapter 54
In the middle of the afternoon, Morrison drove over to a redneck bar, the Thirsty Boot.
There was a thin crowd in there. A dozen or so of the usual losers, sitting in clusters around a few tables or by themselves at the bar. Drifters and professional bums. Downing mugs of cheap watery beer and yakking at the big screens blaring out the previous night’s sports highlights in an infinite loop.
He had not been there often. Not his kind of place at all. But he knew he could find what he was looking for there. Actually, you could find lots of things that were difficult to find there.
He sat on a stool and ordered a Genesee on tap. While the barman poured his suds, he fished a small piece of paper from his pocket. Dropped it on the counter in front of him and half-covered it with a crisp new one-hundred-dollar bill so that the one written line would be visible.
The barman came back with his mug and frowned as he took in the slip of paper. But the money did the trick. The guy palmed both of them and gave a discreet nod toward the other end of the room.
Morrison turned his head. A man was sitting alone at a table, near the bathroom. An old guy, well into his sixties.
Morrison took a sip of beer. Then he rose and walked over there. The old guy had the New York Post opened on a double page spread mocking the Mets for yet another mediocre start to the season.
As if on cue, the old guy raised his head from the paper. Morrison gave a small nod toward the bathroom. The old guy acknowledged and followed him.
They were alone in there. Morrison told him what he needed.
The request didn’t take the old guy by surprise. “It’s gonna be a thousand bucks,” he said. “Give it to me right now. I’ll come back in ten minutes.”
“Not in here,” Morrison said. “I’m gonna finish my beer at the bar. Leave them in my ride, under the driver’s seat. The black Navigator. It’s not locked.”
The old guy nodded.
Then Morrison gave him his money.
The Mets deserved all the flak they’d taken from the Post. Morrison watched them commit blunder after blunder on the big screen recap while he quietly drank his beer at the bar. Some things never changed. That was one of them.
After he finished his beer, Morrison went back to the Navigator. He sat behind the wheel. Bent over to rummage under the seat. His hand bumped on something. Two objects, actually. He picked them up. Looked at them. Good. The old guy hadn’t shafted him. His thousand bucks had materialized into what he needed.
He could now take care of the following item on his list.
Sheriff Sanford.
He punched in her number on his prepaid.
The sheriff picked up on the first ring. Of course, she knew who it was. He had already called her before with that phone.
“Morrison,” she said. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Please don’t hang up,” he said. “Listen to me. I’m holding a white flag here. I’ve got something for you. Please just listen to me …”
Chapter 55
The next morning, Morrison and Cowgirl didn’t linger too long in bed.
This was the big day.
They got up, fixed themselves some breakfast and reviewed their plan for the next few hours.
Cowgirl still had some misgivings about what he had planned for Sanford. But she trusted him enough to go along.
When they were done, he called Steve Perkins on his cell phone.
“You’ve got the money?” he asked.
“I do,” Perkins said. “Where do you want to meet?” His voice was tense.
Morrison gave him the directions to Cowgirl’s house. Told him to show up in fifteen minutes. They would leave the garage door open for him. “I’m not expecting you to do something silly,” Morrison said. “But still, do know that I will not be alone and that your behavior will be carefully monitored. Don’t feel threatened. Those are simple precautions.”
“When do we tell the others?” Cowgirl asked after he hung up.
“When we have the money,” he said. “Not before.”
*
People expected a million dollars to be some monstrous overflowing pile of money. But it really wasn’t. Once you’d seen it two or three times in the flesh, so to speak, it even appeared quite banal. After all, a million dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills weighed a mere twenty-two pounds. It easily fit into a plastic grocery bag. So much for an avalanche of Treasury notes.
Now what Morrison was staring at was different.
Eleven point two million dollars was a totally different beast. A whole two hundred and fifty pounds worth of one-hundred-dollar bills. It made three big duffel bags look really stuffed and ready to burst at the seams.
Morrison privately allowed himself to feel a tinge of excitement as he stared at all this money. Perkins had just opened the hatch of his big Audi in the seclusion of Cowgirl’s garage. The man seemed just nervous enough. Eager to put this whole episode behind him.
Cowgirl opened the duffel bags and started to perform random checks on the bundles of money. Just to make sure those weren’t stacks of worthless paper bookended by a few genuine dollar bills.
A couple of minutes later, she gave the thumbs up.
This was the real deal.
Of course, when you had that much money, you
couldn’t start counting it. You just weighed it. So Morrison took the duffel bags one by one and climbed with them onto Cowgirl’s bathroom scale. They added the total weight, did some simple math and came up with a figure of two hundred and forty-five pounds.
“Good enough,” Morrison said. He extended his arm to Perkins. “Pleasure doing business with you, Steve.”
The businessman shook his hand. And then Cowgirl’s.
“You know,” Perkins told her, “I would never have guessed you were in that line of business too. Not in a million years.”
Perkins and Cowgirl knew each other on the surface. The businessman had bought two horses from her for his kids a couple of years before.
She shrugged and returned the comment. “I never thought we’d do that kind of business together either, but here we are.”
Perkins smiled a thin smile and shook his head. “Isn’t life strange sometimes?” he said.
Morrison looked at him. Above all, Perkins seemed relieved. This transaction was unorthodox, but it had gone down well. Just like any other business transaction.
“We’re crooks,” Morrison said with a wink, “but we’re straight crooks.”
Perkins laughed, then he slammed the hatch shut on his Audi and drove out of Cowgirl’s garage.
As the heavy door rolled down in a metallic clatter, Morrison glanced at the three stuffed duffel bags again. Then he exchanged a knowing smile with Cowgirl.
At last, after three long years of prison and a big pile of trouble, he had gotten their money back.
Chapter 56
Morrison and Cowgirl stayed in the garage to make some phone calls. He began with Mike.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I’m in town,” Mike said. “Why?”
“Can we meet at your place in a half-hour? I’ll tell the others to meet us there.”
Mike lightened up at the other end. He knew exactly what this meant. “Morrison, you son of a bitch,” he said. “You did it!”
“I take that as a yes. See you in thirty minutes.”
Morrison hung up. Next on his list was Harris. He dialed him on his mobile. “Can you be at Mike’s place in thirty minutes?” he said when the wily old fox picked up.
