by Sara Gauldin
“I need to see Mr. White, right away,” Kain said. His voice was smooth; he was laying it on thick.
“Err, is he expecting you?” she asked.
“No, but this won’t wait. I need to see him, right away.” Kain never broke his gaze into her eyes. It reminded me of the canine gesture of dominance—he was certainly not going to be the first one who looked away.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you'll need to make an appointment,” the receptionist said, becoming noticeably flustered.
“No, check again," Kain insisted. "I’m sure you can schedule a time check.”
“A time check, sir?” The receptionist's eyes widened.
“Yes, besides, isn’t it about time for your lunch break?” He leaned toward the trembling woman who paused to consider what he'd said for a fraction of a second. Suddenly, she grabbed her purse from under her desk and started for the door.
“You’re right," she said. "It's past time for lunch.” She rushed out of the front door and into the parking lot without looking back.
“What did you do to her?” I whispered.
“Nothing, really. I just warned her that there was a bomb in the building.”
“What?” I asked hearing the tension in my voice start to rise.
“Not really, but it worked,” Kain said. He seemed totally amused by the interaction, as though he had won round one in a game of tennis.
“Did you have to scare her to death?” I asked.
“All things considered, I did her a favor by getting her out of the building, just in case things go south.” He spoke in a low voice, even less audible than my strained whisper. I realized exactly what he meant. If whomever we were going to interview did not want to be bothered, this whole exchange could turn sour. It really was better to move bystanders away from the scene.
I nodded my acceptance of his call. He turned wordlessly, and started down the short hall. We passed a conference room and a restroom. At the end of the hall was a door that could only be Mr. White’s office. Kain reached it first and turned the knob. It came open smoothly to reveal a middle-aged man, sitting in an oversized, leather desk chair. His back was part way to us as we stood in the doorway. He was on the telephone. He didn’t look up when we entered the room.
“I say we don’t need them, Collins!” He drummed his pen on the desk with his other hand. “Take them out of the equation…they're only puppets anyhow…it's better to get rid of the middle man. Besides, the rate of default is up to thirty percent, this month alone.”
My jaw dropped in surprise, but Kain showed no emotion.
Chapter 6
Did this jerk just order three murders over the phone? I stared blankly at him as I waited for reality to return.
Douglas White slowly turned in his chair as he listened for the caller's response. Real murders were being discussed about still-living human beings. My stomach twisted.
Most of the murders I had investigated had already happened. It was too late for those victims. I was normally left to figure out what drove one person to take the life of another. Now it was unfolding right in front of me. This was no crime of passion or back alley transaction gone bad--this man was leveraging human life as a business venture.
I realized that I could not allow Kain to take the lead in this investigation. He was no longer on the force. Even though I was going off the grid, I still needed the chain of evidence to be free of mistakes.
White spotted us standing in the doorway of his office in his peripheral vision. He spun his chair to face us.
I wished we had been able to listen to his call a bit longer. Now was the moment of truth--would White cooperate, or would he cause us some trouble?
“Mr. White, I’m Detective Rich, Alexandria Metro Police.” My voice filled the room before I had time to consider what I was going to say. I noticed Kain seemed startled by my announcement for no more than a fraction of a second. I produced my badge and held it before me like a shield.
“What…where is Ms. Cole? Who let you in?” White said. Spittle shot from his lips as he stammered.
He remembered the phone in his hand and said, "I'll call you back." He slammed the receiver down on the phone's cradle.
I watched his movements carefully. If he was going to make a move, now was his chance. Kain stepped forward. I noticed his hand as it lingered near his weapon, but he did not draw it.
“I think your secretary is at lunch,” I said. Because Kain scared her out of the building, I added silently. “We let ourselves in.”
White straightened himself in his chair, shifted his expression, and forced an insincere smile. “Oh, yes, she must be. Look at the time!” White gestured toward the clock.
“Mr. White, your name has been mentioned as part of an ongoing investigation. We need to ask you a few questions,'' I said.
Considering Kain had asked me to let him do the talking, he seemed to be accepting me taking charge, well enough. He was wholly focused on observing every detail about Mr. White and his office. For a moment, I wondered if he was planning to pull out a pencil and do another one his connect-the-dots, right then and there.
“An investigation? May I ask what about?” White said. Clearly, he was hoping we had missed the end of his phone conversation.
Before I could give a response, Kain spoke up and said, “We'll be asking the questions.”
“What my partner means is that we can't release any details at this point,” I said.
“Err, of course. What can I help you with?” White smiled with the facade of calm composure.
I really wanted him to get out from behind the desk and where I could see his hands better. I stepped off to the side several feet to clear my vantage point.
“I'm investigating a series of events linked to some local banks. It might be possible that you do business with them.” I watched White for a flicker in his confidence, but there was none.
“Oh, I see. I work with many banks. Which ones are you interested in?” White’s voice was steady. I really hoped I was not going down the wrong road entertaining Kain’s delusions, but what other leads did I have?
“Do you do business with the First National Bank down town?” I was fishing. Maybe White’s reaction would tell me what card to play next.
“Hmm…I think I may do some contractual work for them. Let me check my records.” White spun his chair toward his computer. I watched his hands come up to the keyboard and felt a minute sense of relief when I saw they were empty.
Kain’s stories had made me more jumpy than usual. All police work contains a particle of risk, but operating on the premise that anybody could be plotting against you, not to mention civilization as a whole, was enough to make anybody edgy.
As White clacked noisily away on his keyboard, I tried to focus my eyes on the screen. It appeared that he was using some sort of electronic database that compiled client data and linked it to individual case files. Kain stood perfectly still, completely ingrained in taking in his every keystroke.
“From what I can tell, you did business with every First National Bank in the city of Alexandria, Mr. White,” Kain said. He had a better view of the screen from where he stood. He glared at Douglas White as if daring him to answer. This was an odd stance to take, considering the statement was not exactly an accusation of major crime.
White made a nervous cough and stood partly out of his chair. "Yes, I do. I have many clients…” His voice trailed off.
“We're looking into some inconsistencies within the branch I mentioned. We have information that some of the bank's reporting and disclosure practices are not factual.” I had him. He looked up at me as though I had grown a second head. The look lasted only a split second, but I caught it, nevertheless.
“Let me assure you: I don't disclose any information about my clients or third party transactions. I'm a professional.” White reinstated his façade of composure.
“I’m afraid that you misunderstand, Mr. White. We aren't concerned about information that's
being leaked, but about that which should be made public or reported to the police and is not.”
White stood up next to his seat and said, “I’m sorry, is there something specific you need from me? I send the banks the balance sheets and calculations they ask for. Since the recession, it's cheaper for many of them to outsource some accounting to keep costs low.”
“Yes, I need to know who signs off on your contract jobs, who arranged them, and who accepts them at the branch I mentioned.” White’s eyes seemed to bulge a small amount. He remained standing. I wondered if he was planning to make a run for it, or if he was still trying to guess how much we knew. Luckily, he did not know how few facts we had really collected. He turned back to his computer and resumed clacking with no great flourish on the keyboard.
“You need to know about the downtown branch?” White's voice cracked.
“Yes, for now. We may have some other questions about the other branches as well, but for now, let’s focus on just the one.” I was not letting him off the hook.
He cleared his throat. “My records show a Mr. Lawrence Shultz, the bank’s president, I believe, is the person who signs my contracts.”
“Do you deal with Mr. Shultz directly?” Kain asked.
“Yes, usually,” White said.
“From the data you scrolled through earlier; you did a balance report for the bank just this week. When did you meet with Mr. Shultz last?” Kain asked. Apparently, Ryan Kain not only had better vision than me, but he also had some kind of photographic memory besides.
I watched White’s reaction. He was struggling to appear completely unfazed, but he was not being completely successful "Yes…um…that is correct, I believe," he stammered.
“And the meeting--when was it, and did you meet here or at the bank?” I asked.
“I think it was on Tuesday. Yes, it’s on my calendar. Tuesday morning, here, at my office.” White gestured toward a desk calendar.
“You met Tuesday, here in your office?” I repeated his words to him. Today was Thursday. If Shultz had truly been in this office on Tuesday, then that would have been well after he had fallen off the grid.
“Yes, that's correct.” White was gambling that we did not yet know Shultz was missing. Of course, if we didn't know then it would sound completely natural to have a business meeting during the workweek.
“During the meeting, what sort of transactions did Mr. Shultz authorize?” Kain asked.
“Err, we were discussing how much money the bank stood to gain or lose with the high rate of foreclosures in this uncertain market,” White said. He was beginning to have the appearance of somebody who had tasted something sour.
“Really? It was my understanding that the real estate market was improving, and home values were rising. I did not know that things were as uncertain at this point, but I’m sure you would have a better understanding of these things. Please enlighten us.” Kain’s voice was smooth and musical. I found myself tempted to let him continue the interrogation, just so I could see if he would get into White’s head like he had mine.
“Well, it really depends on the locality,” said White.
“Whom else attended the meeting?” I asked.
“Well, it was just Shultz, Mrs. Cole, the president from another branch, and I,” White said.
“We'll need a name and some contact information,” I said.
“Uh, yes. His name is Morris, Alan Morris,” White said.
I felt a jolt of adrenalin course through my body. There was another missing banker involved! If nothing else, this evidence connected the two cases! And better yet, there was the possibility they were still alive.
“We need that contact information for Mr. Morris, please,” Kain said.
I couldn't wait to see how White played this one. How could he tell us how to reach someone who was, for whatever reason, unreachable?
“Sure,” he mumbled. White thumbed through a Rolodex and scribbled three numbers on a sticky note. I eyed his scrawl: 555- 2864 – home, 555-7439 work, and 555-4351 cell. I had a pretty good idea that calling Mr. Morris would get me nowhere.
“Before we leave, may I borrow your office to make a quick call?'' asked Kain "I just need to check in.”
“I…uh…well, yes, I suppose,” White said. It was clear he did not want to grant us this request, but if it meant we were about to leave, he was willing to work with us.
White moved toward me and the door. I turned and walked out with him. As I was leaving the room, Kain picked up the phone and smiled. I knew he had more in mind than checking in.
White and I continued down the short hallway and into the lobby.
“One more thing," I said. “When we were walking into your office, I overheard you mentioning that foreclosures were up to thirty percent. You meant home foreclosures, right?”
“Ah, yes. We are trying to head off any troubles. These are tough times, today, you know,” White said.
I knew he was lying. I had heard him talking about getting rid of the puppets and saw his pleasure when speaking about the economic ruin of more families. I knew this guy was not the moral business man he wanted me to see him for. I decided not to push my luck any further, seeing as my gun was way down at my ankle.
Kain came strolling out of the back office, smoothly stepped around me, and opened the door. As I stepped back out into the late-afternoon sun, I called over my shoulder, "Thank you for your cooperation.”
Chapter 7
A heady rush of endorphins hit me as I re-entered the afternoon sun. The thrill of the chase sharpened my mind and my wit. We took the situation from impossible to a strong start and now we needed to regroup and plan the next step. Kain made a beeline for the driver’s side of the obsidian black sedan. I was right behind him, when a movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. In a split second, the thrill of the chase changed, and I became the hunted!
In what seemed like a choreographed movement, both Kain and I fell to the pavement as the metallic ping of shots forced through a silencer rung out around us. Things moved at a lightning pace, but it seemed that each millisecond had been divided into its own lifetime. Every sense assaulted my brain with infinite clarity. I felt Kain’s weight, crushing against my body, his afternoon bristles straining against my cheek. Even as the pavement greeted us with a dull thud I was reaching for my gun, still strapped to my ankle. I felt Kain shift over me as he drew his gun from his belt. Kain’s first percussive shot rang in my ear. My hand grasped my weapon tightly.
I rotated my body to find my target, and caught a glimpse of a man in dark clothing, darting behind a vehicle on the opposite side of the lot, a different man than the one I'd glimpsed through the blinds at the shelter. Whoever these guys were, they were willing to take a shot at a police officer in broad daylight on a public street, which made them either brazen or crazy.
As I closed my finger around the trigger, I felt the wave of explosive recoil jolt through me as the bullets forced the assailant to take cover behind a white work van. Kain rose to his knees and flung open the driver’s door of the 6. His shots rang out as I scrambled into the car and scooted down in the passenger’s seat. Kain slid into the driver’s seat a split second behind me. The door slammed, and the engine fired in the same motion.
The car lurched forward toward the street and I pushed the window control and positioned myself to return fire. I looked back to see two men rushing from behind the van, and running toward a particularly plain, grey Taurus. I fired a warning shot to hold them off. We'd need a head start if we were going to come out of this game of cat and mouse successfully.
The men hesitated, so I risked a quick glimpse at the car’s plates and made a metal note of the number. As we sped down the street toward the highway, I rummaged around inside the car for something to write down the plate numbers with. Unlike Kain, I do not have the luxury of a photographic memory.
The engine revved, and turbo was engaged. Kain zoomed through traffic as if determined to win the Indie 500.
In truth, both our lives depended on the outcome of this race.
“I got a bit more information.” Kain’s voice sounded more controlled than I would have expected, under the circumstance.
“From the office?” I asked.
“Yes, and the phone,” he said. “Whoever he was speaking with when we came in, I have the contact information.”
“Well, that would be something--if we had a way to trace it.” I felt my frustration rising.
“I may have a way to make that happen, if we ever get these lackeys off of our tails!” Kain said.
I turned to look out of the back windshield through the space between the seats. The traffic seemed normal.
“They're four cars back in the far-right lane.” Kain gestured to the grey Taurus eking its way toward us on the highway. “The fools have been driving on the shoulder to catch up.”
I spotted the Taurus. “It seems to be working," I said. I tightened my grip on my gun, waiting patiently in my lap.
Kain sped up and swerved violently into the far left lane. The Taurus kept pace as it alternated from the right lane to the road’s paved shoulder, dodging traffic. “I’ll never throw them this way,” Kain said. “If you have a clean shot, take it!”
I strained against my seat belt, trying to assess the best possibility for a tire shot, but there were just too many cars on the highway. There were just too many possibilities for an innocent bystander to be hurt. “I can’t get a clear shot!” I heard my voice before I realized I had responded.
“I’m going to try something in about half a mile. You’re going to want to tighten your seat belt.” Kain’s voice was tight and strained. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His eyes were busy alternating between checking every mirror and the speedometer. “Keep your eyes on the tail. Look for a shot. If I pull this off you won’t need to take one. If not, it was nice to meet you.”
