"Hi, Boss. Marilyn and Christie are skating in Central Park, Robert is with the French look-alike opening safe deposit boxes, and I'm counting beans."
"What is the status of the beans?"
"The million will cover everything, but barely."
My phone rang.
"I owe you a donut or a dollar, Boss. I can't remember how the bet went,” Roberts said. “We recovered a large chunk of the money Jill paid French. Both boxes were stuffed full. More importantly, the cautious man kept a second set of negatives of Jill and the kids in one of the boxes."
"Excellent. Are you heading back here?"
"No, the money and negatives are being delivered to you by one of my operatives. I'm on my way to the Able residence. Karen Able just left for Miami to bail her husband out of jail. I'll take the insertion team into the residence when I get there."
"Good luck. Keep looking until you find enough evidence to put Karen Able away, Robert."
"Besides removing our listening devices, that's the point of the incursion, Boss. I'll call when, not if, we find something."
I thought about the bugs and cameras in French's studio and residence and asked if they had been removed as planned the previous night. After Robert gave me an affirmative answer, I realized I should not have asked. But my right arm wasn't offended. He knew how I operated.
When the operative arrived with a small suitcase, I took it back to my suite and dumped the contents onto a table in the living room. I worried the smoke alarms would start beeping, so I burned the negatives slowly and flushed the toilet often. The bathroom smelled like burned plastic when I returned to count the money. I determined that Jill would get back slightly more than half of the money she paid French. I dialed her number. When she answered, I heard children squealing, obviously having fun, in the background. I proudly informed her of our find, and she promptly told me to keep it.
"I wouldn't know how to put the money back into my accounts without creating a tax problem, Martin. Besides, you spent way too much money trying to save my worthless butt."
I laughed. “Your gorgeous butt is too perfectly formed and arousing to be deemed worthless. Talk to Vera. Trust me. She's clever about returning money to an account so it appears it never left."
"If you won't take it, donate it to the foundation, Martin."
I smiled. Jill was starting to understand my concept of money.
"Okay, but it will be an anonymous donation. I don't want to run it through my books. Have you hired someone to run the foundation?"
"Yes, and he's yummy, Martin. His name is Jack Perkins. He's in New York. I'll give you his number and he'll drop by and pick up the money. Tell me what you think about him. I'm interested in the guy personally, not business, and I'd appreciate your opinion. The big thing I must overcome is being known as Jack and Jill if we become a couple."
After I finished laughing, she gave me Perkins’ number. Jill and I said goodbye, and I called the new head of her foundation. He said he would drop by to pick up the donation within the hour.
Marilyn and Christie bounced into the suite, happy and laughing. They obviously had a good time in Central Park. Christie spied the piles of money on the table.
"Jeez, Uncle M. What did you do? Rob a bank?"
I laughed. “Sort of. French put most of the money he forced Jill to pay him into the safe deposit boxes. We cleaned the boxes out this morning."
"Cool. Jill should be happy."
I told the ladies about my conversation with Jill.
Marilyn was particularly interested in Jill's comments about Jack Perkins.
"I'd like to meet the man, too,” Marilyn said.
"I'm off to the shower, Uncle M,” Christie said and gave me a quick kiss.
After Christie left, Marilyn asked, “How do you feel about Jill being personally interested in this man?"
I looked at her quizzically. “Frankly, I'm delighted. Why do you ask?"
"No reason. Just curious."
"Marilyn, I'm in love with you, not Jill."
"I know, but the woman is so damned beautiful, she's hard to resist. She makes me look plain by comparison."
I laughed. “You know that's not true. Quit fishing for compliments and take your shower. Perkins will be here soon, and I'd like your opinion of the man. Jill's track record for selecting men certainly isn't perfect."
"She does all right. She picked you for her first."
"And she picked French for her last."
She laughed and kissed me. “You're such a mother hen. I love you."
She bounced off to shower.
My phone rang.
"Boss, the woman is sicker than I thought,” Robert said. “She beat a few of the kids to death. And her sick fuck of a husband helped. They have a personal collection of snuff films. They didn't even try to disguise or hide their faces. It looks like they took turns filming the occasions."
Robert's words stunned me. My mouth went dry. “How many—how many kids did they murder Robert?"
"I don't know. We only previewed three of the films that were in a safe in their bedroom. The safe contains a dozen tapes. Two of the three were snuff films. Harry had no trouble opening the thing. It was an old model, a type of safe he said he had opened often during his criminal years."
"Take one of the snuff films, leave the others, but remove all the negatives, photographs and films that involve kids who are still alive. I don't want those children to go through the trauma of a police investigation on top of what the Ables already did to them. We'll deliver the video you remove to the police this afternoon with a statement that the Ables have more in their possession."
"You've got it, Boss. Doing it this way will take a little longer, but we have the time. We won't have to worry about bail on this one."
"No, but we'll still need to snatch Able if he isn't arrested for murder before he's released on the drug charge."
"Understood."
Jack Perkins arrived soon after my call with Robert. I turned over the money to him, offered him coffee and he accepted. We chatted, mostly about Jill. The man adored her, I could tell, and for the right reasons. She had hired him to run her foundation not only because he was eminently capable of the task, but also because he loved children. I liked the man. Marilyn joined us and the three of us talked. My lover confirmed my opinion of Perkins after he left.
The rest of Operation Monarch is history.
We snatched Able and French soon after their release on bail. The next morning, when Karen Able returned to New York, the police arrested her for murder, among other crimes. The police were looking for Frank Able, so we helped them find him—in New York City so the man couldn't fight extradition.
The Able crimes were big news for a few days, covered by all the media. None of the bodies of the murdered children were found.
Marilyn and I flew to Paris the following Tuesday and trudged through the halls of the Louvre. Jack and Jill joined us in Paris. Jill was familiar with the city and took us places not generally visited by tourists. We had a grand time, and when Jill suggested we spend a few days on the French Riviera, we all agreed and moved from the metropolitan environment of Paris to sandy beaches of Nice.
Ruth went back to writing romance novels. She stated her experience in Operation Monarch had given her more than one idea for new plots and a hundred new characters. Little Christie returned from her exposure to the sad side of kids to the happy setting her mother provided for a girl her age.
I called Ruth to make certain Christie was not experiencing any ill effects from her exposure to the dark side of abused kids. Christie answered and promptly told me her mother had a new lover.
Christie said, “They've known each other for a while. He's her publisher and they started dating during the last week we stayed at the Marriott. The man simply adores her, and from my observations, Mother feels the same way about him."
"What about you, Christie? Do you like him?"
"He's yummy. Yes, I like him, but you
kiss better."
"Don't be a tease. Let me talk to your mother."
Ruth put my fears at rest regarding Christie's involvement in Operation Monarch and then confirmed her daughter's announcement about a new lover.
"He might be the one,” Ruth said with a titter in her voice.
Knowing Ruth had found a new love warmed me. She had been without a loving man for quite a while.
We were in the South of France when Robert called. Perini had been killed in a gangland slaying. Evidently, our wing fluttering had produced some results. Robert said his operations had become such a mess, his cronies in the mob decided he had to go.
The day after Marilyn and I returned to Phoenix, she renewed her quest for a doctorate in math, Robert turned French over to the authorities after a bench warrant was issued for his arrest when he didn't show up for his arraignment. The D.E.A. also attached the bank account he used to hide his illegal activity, claimed the money came from his drug trafficking, and was therefore subject to forfeiture. In the end, French had to use a court appointed defense attorney. He didn't have the money or assets to pay a good lawyer.
A month later, the D.E.A. promptly and enthusiastically acted on the package we sent them about Reicherter and Roth and their international Ecstasy manufacturing, smuggling and distribution racket. The pair of bad guys promptly turned me over, among others, as one of their buyers in an attempt to have their sentences reduced. The D.E.A. interviewed me but pursued it no further. I gave them ironclad alibis from some of my friends, and no record could be found of my presence in Amsterdam or Brooklyn on the days the two men insisted I met with them. Plus, I had Vera on my side. My books were impeccable. No trace of the drug transaction existed. In the end, I believed the D.E.A. suspected I was the one who delivered the package that brought the drug ring to their attention.
I submitted my resignation for my position with the University that morning, and that afternoon I sat gazing at the long list of French's customers I had taken from his safe, turning over in my mind the various methods I could use to alter the systems of the individuals on the list, when my thoughts were interrupted by the telephone.
Jack Perkins was on the line, calling from London.
"Martin,” he said after chatting for a while, “I have a friend here in London who seems to have an unusual problem."
Musical words to my ears.
Finis
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The Butterfly Effect Page 18
