“Hard to tell,” Caravini said, looking up at the officer for the first time. “We make a lot of enemies in this job. It’s more likely than not this has something to do with one of our investigations. I can’t imagine anyone else doing this.”
“We’re going to want to spend some time with you going over your recent cases.”
“Of course.” Caravini narrowed his eyes. “Not right now, though.”
“I guess it can wait a day or two.”
“Thanks.” Caravini turned to go. “You know where to contact me.”
It was three miles back to Federal Plaza, but Caravini chose to walk it rather than take a cab. He needed some fresh air and a chance to think. Guilt weighed on his conscience when he remembered the hard time he’d given Crouten after learning he’d stopped the Grannis investigation. He hadn’t deserved that. Nor had he deserved being taken off the assignment and parked behind a desk, pending a move back to Washington. Caravini had allowed his own personal agenda and ambition to cloud his judgment of Crouten. For years before that incident, he’d been one of his best field agents, with instincts that were normally right on the money. Quite why he’d given up on the Grannis case so easily when the evidence was screaming out for further investigation, Caravini would never know. It was out of character. In hindsight, he should have spent more time with him to get to the bottom of it.
As he walked, Caravini pondered the police officer’s question about their recent cases. At this time, the department had five active investigations where Crouten had played a pivotal role, and Caravini ran through each of them in turn. One name kept coming back to him: Grannis. From the moment he’d seen the bullet hole in Crouten’s head, he knew in his gut that Crouten’s murder must have something to do with the Grannis investigation. While all of their cases would benefit from the disappearance of a key agent, it was hard to imagine any of the suspects in those cases doing anything like this—except Grannis. He was known to have organized crime connections, and the man had a violent past; the others didn’t.
Caravini entered the FBI building and, while swiping his entry card at the barrier, finally connected the dots. Grannis must have had something on Crouten that he could use as leverage. If not, then he must have threatened his colleague with violence. Whatever it might have been, Grannis must have leaned on Crouten in some way to stop the investigation a few weeks ago. That had to be what happened. Why else would one of his best agents choose to terminate a major case in the face of such overwhelming evidence? Somehow, Grannis must have discovered the investigation had been reopened. Maybe he killed Crouten to stop it going any further.
Crouten’s body had shown evidence of a beating, and there had been bruising on his wrists, as though he’d been tied up. Had he been tortured? Crouten wasn’t stupid. Even though he was no longer on the case, he was bound to have known something about Caravini’s sting operation. Had Grannis discovered their plan before murdering Crouten? It made sense. So far, Grannis hadn’t traded in BIX stock at all; that wasn’t right. Hoffman had told him he expected Grannis to begin buying the stock almost immediately. Apparently, that’s what he’d done on all the other deals, and yet, not on BIX. Grannis may be on to us.
As soon as he reached his office, Caravini punched in the number for Hoffman.
“I need to see you urgently,” Caravini said, making no attempt at pleasantries.
“What’s it about?” Michael asked. “I could do without this right now.”
“I need you to do something on Grannis.”
“Haven’t I done enough?”
“It’ll be enough when I say so. Do I need to remind you that our agreement requires your ongoing cooperation?”
“Look, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”
“I haven’t got time for this. If you don’t get your ass over here tomorrow morning, I’ll be calling Art Jenks to let him know I got it wrong when I said you had nothing to do with our investigation. I’ll say we’ve now found compelling new evidence, putting you right back in the frame.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“I want you here at eight thirty. If you’re late, I’ll call Jenks and our deal will be off.”
Caravini slammed down the phone and stared into the air.
If Grannis thinks he can fuck with me, he’s sadly mistaken.
Chapter 57
MICHAEL MADE IT TO FEDERAL PLAZA by eight. Unlike Dudek’s offices at this time of the morning, the place was like a ghost town so, after receiving his visitor’s badge, he had to wait in the barren reception area for Caravini to arrive. Looking around, he wondered what it was that made all government offices the same soulless places. It was little surprise that staff only arrived at the last minute. He couldn’t blame them. This place could hardly be more unwelcoming.
Carrying a paper Starbucks cup in one hand and a rigid leather briefcase in the other, Caravini entered the building at eight twenty-five.
“Follow me,” he said, spotting Michael as the lone visitor sitting in one of the armchairs facing the security desk.
Good morning to you, too.
Both men stood side by side in the elevator, avoiding eye contact and making no attempt at conversation. By now, each had come to detest the other, but circumstances had forced them to do business together.
Michael sat across from Caravini at the small table in his office. “What was so urgent that you needed to see me?”
“I want you to contact Grannis again.” Caravini drained his coffee cup then threw it into the plastic garbage can about five feet away. It was a good shot, something he must have done hundreds of times.
“What for? It’s down to you guys now. My part’s over.”
“I want you to tell him you have another deal for them.”
Michael crossed his arms. “But I don’t.”
“You’re going to have to make another one up.”
Michael shook his head. “I’m not doing that. I’ve done enough.”
“Let me remind you that you’re obliged to cooperate.”
“Sure, the agreement calls for cooperation, but we both know that meant handling any loose ends once I’d helped you set up the BIX deal. Nothing more.”
“That’s not how I see it.”
“What’s the point of setting up another deal, anyway? It won’t add anything.”
There was a knock on the door, and Abi entered.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize you had a meeting scheduled this early.”
Caravini smiled for the first time that morning. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I set this one up and forgot to tell you.”
“Coffee?” she asked.
Caravini glanced at Michael, who nodded.
“Two coffees, please.”
The smile disappeared the moment Abi left the room. “Whether you think it’s part of our agreement or not, you have to go and see Grannis. If you refuse, then I’ll contact Jenks and tell him one of his partners is a crook and that my team is about to crawl over all the deals handled by the great firm of Dudek, Collins, & Hamilton to see who else is involved in this conspiracy. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly.” What was the point of debating the meaning of the word “cooperation” in the written agreement? It wouldn’t get Michael anywhere, and the last thing he wanted was another mess for the firm to deal with. Jenks would not be so accommodating next time. “Why do you need another deal?”
Abi brought in their coffees and placed the mugs on the table in front of them before leaving. Michael wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught Caravini winking at her.
Caravini took a sip of his drink. “I’m concerned about the BIX deal. Grannis hasn’t bought a single share, and I don’t think he’s going to, either. I want to know why. If you take him another deal, there’s a chance you’ll discover the reason he didn’t act on the BIX tip-off, or else he might buy the new one.”
“Something’s not right.” Michael was frowning. “There must
be a reason he hasn’t bought any BIX stock. That’s not like him at all. Could he be on to us?”
“I doubt it. It’s more likely you did a poor job convincing him it was a deal worth pursuing.”
“He’s bought every other deal, so why wouldn’t he swallow this one? He must suspect something. The man’s not a fool.”
“We’ll only know what he’s up to when you take him another deal. If he doesn’t bite on that one, then we’ll know.”
What was Rondell up to? Maybe Caravini was right. Maybe Michael had screwed up by overselling BIX. He couldn’t know the deal wasn’t going ahead just yet. There were another couple of weeks before Michael had said the deal was due to close.
But what Caravini was now asking him to do would be dangerous if Rondell already thought BIX was a set-up. At least if Rondell challenged him, he could say the BIX deal is still on track, but he could only maintain that story if the meeting took place in the next few days. Any later, and Rondell would see it was never going to happen and would know for sure there was something going on.
“If I do this, I want it understood that there’ll be no more. I won’t allow you to continue using me this way. We had a deal.”
“I can live with that.”
“Okay. I’ll e-mail you something that clarifies our written agreement. I want you to sign it today.”
“That might be tricky.”
“It gets signed today, or you’re on your own.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Assuming you sign it, I’ll arrange to see Grannis. I’ll come up with another story and send you the details so you can track his trades.”
“I want you to convince him this time. Make it credible.”
“The BIX story was fine. That’s what’s worrying me. Something else has spooked him.”
“There’s nothing I know.” Caravini hid behind his coffee mug.
When Michael returned to his own office, he decided to call Rondell anyway. Caravini wouldn’t risk not signing the amendment to their agreement, and there was no time to waste. There was still a narrow window to maintain the credibility of the BIX story if he saw him soon.
“Hey, Danny Boy,” Rondell said in his usual upbeat tone. There was no hint that he might be on to Caravini’s scheme. That was something.
“I have another one for you,” Michael said, keeping the conversation deliberately cryptic. He wasn’t concerned about the authorities listening in any longer. Hell, he was working with the FBI, but it would sound strange to Rondell if he didn’t continue talking in coded speech when they were on the phone.
“Sounds good.”
“Can we meet to discuss it?”
“Of course. Listen, I’m going out of town for a few days the day after tomorrow. Let’s meet when I get back.”
That wouldn’t work. Michael had to see him now before it became obvious BIX was never going to happen. “How about tomorrow? This one won’t wait.”
“That’s not easy. I could maybe do something in the evening, say around seven thirty.”
“Usual place?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll be there.” Michael ended the call, immediately wondering if already he’d appeared too keen to promote this latest deal. The good news, at least, was that Rondell gave no indication anything was wrong. If he suspected something, he was hiding it well.
Now all he had to do was dream up another good story. That wouldn’t be as simple as it sounded.
Chapter 58
THAT NIGHT, MICHAEL STRUGGLED to get any sleep and he was out of bed at four, nursing a cup of coffee in the cold kitchen. His mind was full of ideas for another deal to convince Rondell to trade, but every time he thought he had it nailed, he’d spot a flaw in the story and have to start over again. This time, he couldn’t give him any reason to avoid biting. Whatever it was, something had worried Rondell about the BIX deal. As far as Michael was concerned, the BIX story still hung together, and the potential profit should have been more than enough of a carrot to tempt Rondell’s greed. Maybe the problem was not the deal itself. Maybe Michael had just overcooked it by making it sound too good to be true. This next one had to be perfect, as it would be their last shot, but there wasn’t much time.
In spite of his protests and excuses, Caravini had finally signed their new, watertight agreement yesterday. At least that was something Michael did not have to worry about. That man had shown he couldn’t be trusted. He was prepared to do anything to bring down the Grannis operation, and if that meant wriggling out of a loosely worded agreement or hanging Michael out to dry in the process, he wouldn’t think twice about it. With the new agreement now in place, Michael would never have to face Rondell with a made-up deal again. In fact, if Caravini’s plan worked, today would be the last time he’d ever have to see Rondell—period.
Caroline was still asleep when Michael kissed her goodbye. Before he left the house, he went into the garage and took the pistol out of the locked cupboard, filling the clip with bullets. The last time he’d felt the need to have the weapon with him was when he’d visited the tattoo shop in New Jersey. It hadn’t really helped him then, but it had given him that extra bit of courage to go through with it. Today, he needed all the help he could get.
It was just after five when he locked the gun in the glove box and slipped the gearlever of the Lexus into drive, heading to the office. By then, he had the framework of a story formulating in his mind. This one might work, just so long as he didn’t oversell it.
Throughout the drive, Michael rehearsed the script he was going to use this evening and even allowed himself to dream a little about his life returning to normal once this was all over. While tonight’s meeting wasn’t going to be easy, the prize would be well worth the risk. At least he had a life to return to, unlike his client, Amanda Etling. From what he’d read in the press, she and her husband of nine years had both been shot during a robbery at their home in the Hamptons. It must have been terrifying for them. Already, Michael was missing his daily telephone conversations with her. She’d long been more than just a client; she’d become a good friend and would leave a giant hole in his life.
Michael was at his desk by six, and he tried hard to fill his day with meetings and reviewing legal documents, anything to take his mind away from the challenge that lay ahead. With a bit of luck, his session with Rondell would only need to last fifteen minutes or so. In and out, never to have to deal with that man again. Then he’d report back to Caravini once it was all over. This time, though, he’d not told Caravini when he was going to see Rondell. He didn’t want to be under pressure to account to that clown. Michael would tell him how it went in his own good time. Besides, the last thing he wanted was for Caravini to blow it by having his people follow him to the meeting and spooking Rondell. Michael would handle this one alone so there’d be no mistakes. Rondell had to take the bait this time.
When Michael pulled up at the warehouse on Sullivan Street at seven twenty five that evening, Rondell’s car was already in its usual spot in the car park, and there were no others parked there. It was dark, and other than a couple of lights on in the buildings at the top end of the street as he’d approached, the place looked deserted. Michael reached for the glove box, and his stomach tensed. Was it such a good idea to walk in there with a loaded gun? What had, this morning, seemed like a good idea now made him more nervous. He decided to leave it where it was.
Let’s get this over with.
Rondell answered the door with a wide smile. “Danny Boy.”
Michael took up his regular perch on the stained sofa while Rondell sat behind his desk, leaning against the back of the chair.
“What do you have?” Rondell asked, momentarily reaching forward for his pad and pen, as though this was now a well-worn pattern. “I hope it’s as good as the last one.”
“You invested in BIX?”
“Sure. We filled our boots.” Rondell grimaced. “You seem surprised.”
“No, not at all. It
was a good deal. Why wouldn’t you?” What the hell was Rondell playing at? Caravini said he hadn’t yet bought any BIX stock. Could he have just acquired them today? That would be good news. “This next one is pretty good.”
The smile returned to Rondell’s face. “Just one question before we get into that one.”
“Sure. What is it?”
Rondell stood up and walked over to Michael. “I need you to stand up.”
“What?”
“Please, stand up.”
Michael did what he was told, shaking his head. “Now what?”
Rondell leaned his face into Michael’s. “Are you wearing a wire, Danny Boy?”
A chill ran through Michael. He stepped back, his legs rubbing against the sofa. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a straightforward question. Are you wearing a wire?”
“No. I’m not. Why do you think—?”
“Then you won’t mind me checking,” Rondell started to pat Michael down.
“Why would I wear a wire?”
“Take your shirt off.”
“I’m not taking my shirt off.”
Rondell gripped the collar of Michael’s shirt and pulled at it.
Michael pushed him away. “Take your hands off me.”
Grabbing at the shirt again, Rondell forced Michael hard against the sofa. “What do you have to hide?”
As he lost his balance, Michael swung his right fist and connected with Rondell’s jaw, knocking him over.
Rondell climbed to his feet and lunged head-first at Michael, winding him as both men collapsed onto the floor.
Michael fell on top of Rondell.
Crushed under Michael’s weight and with his back to the floor, Rondell managed to put an arm lock around Michael’s neck.
Kicking out, with his shoulder blades cutting into Rondell’s ribcage, Michael tried to free himself. With the tight grip around his neck, it was impossible to break away. Seconds later, he stopped struggling.
“I’m not wearing a wire.” Michael used his hands to tear open his own shirt, exposing his bare chest. “Satisfied?”
Once a Killer Page 28
