Once back home, he opened a file on his computer and began reading the contents — his research notes. Whenever his commitment wavered, all he had to do was read the litany of evil that members of this group had perpetrated, and remember those who had been forever damaged by them — such injustice reassured him that his course was the only one that made sense.
Which was the wonder of it all.
How messed-up was the world if the only logical plan involved him becoming a serial killer?
He shook his head and clucked his tongue.
What an odd trip it had become.
It looked as though Richard had gotten little sleep when Silver called him into her office for an update. He entered clutching an iPad under his arm and sat at her small, round meeting table.
“What do we have — anything new?” she asked, studying his eyes.
He had definitely been burning the midnight oil. Possibly out painting the town red, charming the local ladies with his DC stories. She took a seat in the chair opposite him.
“We do, but none of it is good. I spent most of yesterday night and this morning doing checks on the latest victim’s partner, given his associations, and I made a few calls to some colleagues. The more I dig, the odder it gets. The man has a hand in virtually every corner of the market system. He and Ali’s latest gambit was creating the back end for ‘dark pool’ trading and sponsored access.”
Silver gave him a blank stare.
“I’m sorry. About seven years ago they started supplying software and communications infrastructure so that larger entities could trade stock without having to go onto the exchanges. The trading takes place in dark pools, so named because they aren’t transparent.”
“That sounds like it defeats the whole idea of a fair and orderly market, doesn’t it?” Silver commented. She ventured a sidelong glance at Richard. Even when tired, Silver conceded that he did exude a certain charisma. Perhaps Monique had developed fresh eyes for talent.
“Exactly. But some pigs are more equal than others, and now most of the significant trading takes place in these pools. They’re unregulated, so there are no checks or balances, and ‘sponsored access’ is a term for where a large broker allows an important customer — a hedge fund — to trade directly in the markets using one of the brokers’ computer IDs. To the rest of the world, it looks like the broker is doing the buying and selling, which is a nice way to circumvent quite a few rules designed to stop manipulative trading.”
“What do you mean?”
“Big brokers are ‘market makers’. The rules for market makers are different than for everyone else. Another way of looking at this is that these brokers are renting out their market maker exemptions to the largest hedge funds. Happens all the time now.”
“And Ali and his partner…”
“Are the cutting edge of the plumbing used to do it. These two were instrumental in designing the electronic exchanges most brokers now use, creating the dark pools that mask most of the larger trades and coming up with a way for preferred customers to masquerade as brokers. And one of the two is spitting distance from those who actively fund terrorists, whose largest enemy in the world is…”
“The U.S.,” Silver offered.
“Yes. Once I understood all this, I made a few more calls. Nobody knows anything about any investigation into it. Put simply, this is as big a smoking gun as if you were a flight school and had a couple of heavily accented voices on the phone asking if you could teach them how to fly a commercial jet, but skip the take-off and landing part. It’s that obvious. And yet when I spoke to my colleagues, as well as my superior, they knew nothing. So I sent a brief summary of my findings to my boss, who I have a good relationship with, and he promised to nose around.”
“Did you get the feeling that he would pursue it?” Silver got a whiff of Richard’s aftershave as she leaned towards him to look at the information on his tablet’s screen. Understated. She decided that he smelled good. Very good, actually.
“Not really. If it isn’t part of an active investigation, it takes a lot to move the machine into gear. Maybe something will happen, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Silver considered the latest bit of news. “I’m thinking that Ali’s partner may be next in line for a visit from the killer. It makes a certain kind of sense if The Regulator is what he appears to be, which is a serial killer on a mission. Part of me doubts that now because of the terrorism connection — that opens all kinds of doors. But absent any new information, I don’t want to go off on a tangent and assume there’s more going on than there really might be.” She shook her head. “What about the other three victims? Anything more there?”
“I’m doing a background check on all their known associates and clients to see if there are any commonalities. I’m sure someone already did that, but it can’t hurt to do a thorough exam. And I’ve widened the parameters a little, to include anything that seems terror-related. Could be that’s the link. Not saying that it is, but my instinct is to pursue it.”
“How long do you think it will take to scour their histories?”
“A few days. Maybe as much as a week. It’s time intensive — not just simple name matching. There are several layers we need to dig through…”
Richard ran his fingers through his hair. Thick hair, Silver noted, with strong hands for a financial type. Athletic for a desk jockey, too. She found herself wondering about his exercise regimen then realized she had started drifting again. Silver shrugged off the mental image she’d been forming of him standing under a waterfall with his shirt off. What was going on with her?
“…so I don’t think it warrants surveillance. Not with his schedule. We should have another couple of weeks before he strikes again,” Richard concluded.
Silver nodded along as she picked up the thread. “Hmmm. Fair enough. I think we wait to see what more we can glean before we do anything like put a team on the partner. Which I have no compunction about doing if it looks like he may be a target.” She shuffled her notes and stood, checking her watch. “Have you settled in to your apartment? Everything fine on that end?”
Richard smiled. She noted the small wrinkles that appeared in the corners of his eyes and decided she liked them, too.
“It’s not the Ritz, but hey, not terrible, either. My place back in D.C. isn’t exactly lavish, so I’m easy. It’ll do.”
“That’s good to hear. Be sure to tell me if you need anything.” That didn’t come out right. She debated clarifying and then thought better of it.
Richard seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on her. Which was for the best given that it was completely inappropriate, as was her internal dialogue at the moment.
He stood and collected his iPad and notepad. “I’m going to go help my analyst get set up. She’s just arrived. Things will go faster once she’s plugged in…” Richard said.
Silver nodded.
She?
Silver had assumed that the analyst from Washington would be male. Not that she’d devoted tremendous thought to it. She made a mental note to go meet the new arrival sooner than later — welcome her to the team.
“How long will she be with us? And what’s her name?” Silver asked.
“Oh, she just came in for the day. I wanted to bring her up to speed personally, and then she’ll be working remotely from D.C.. Maybe come into the city once a week to compare notes. She’s a civilian contractor. Stacy Burroughs. We’ve worked together on a number of cases, and she’s one of the best.”
“Well, go do what you need to do, and I’ll stop in later to say hello. Good work on the victim’s partner. I just don’t know what to make of it.”
“I know. Neither do I. But we’ll get to the bottom of things. That’s what I’m here for,” he said, before opening her door to let himself out.
She watched through the glass panel as he made his way to the cubicles and wondered why she was suddenly so keenly aware of him as a male of the species. That was unlike her — Si
lver was ultimately all about business, and the thoughts she’d been having during their meeting were anything but. Perhaps it was the season. Spring in the air. Pollination running rampant, and so forth.
Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to entertain any more of it. Even if Richard did have a bounce to his gait she could have watched all day.
Silver shook off her musings and returned to her never-ending pile of reports, trying to make headway against the unstoppable tide. As the morning wore on, the drudgery got the better of her, and she found herself drifting off. Anxious for a break, she made a fresh pot of coffee and poured a generous measure, mentally promising herself that this would be the very last one of the day. The phone rang just as she was sitting back down.
“Cassidy,” she answered.
“Silver? It’s Frank Erensen from Rochester.”
“Frank. It’s been forever. What’s going on up in God’s country?”
“I wish this was a social call, Silver. But I’m afraid I have some bad news. It’s about Andy, and I wanted you to hear about it from me first…”
“Andy? What happened, Frank?” Silver’s voice caught in her throat. Andy had been her partner until five years ago.
“Andy was shot and killed in the line of duty this morning.”
“What? How?”
“He was pursuing a lead in an investigation, and a sniper got him while he was on a stakeout.”
“Good Lord. What was he investigating?”
“Chinese triads. Child prostitution. We’re pulling out all the stops to figure things out, but it’s still early. This just happened, so everyone’s scrambling.”
Silver shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “How’s Julie doing? And the kids?” Andy had two boys, one about five and the other would be around two by now.
“I’m headed out to the house right now to see them. Julie is falling apart, as you can imagine. I don’t even want to think about what the next few hours are going to be like.”
“Frank, I’m so sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“I will.” Silver heard another line ringing in the background, and the murmur of voices. “Listen, Silver, I have to run. Sorry to be the bearer of such crappy news.”
“No problem. It sounds like you have your hands full. Thanks for the heads-up.”
Silver set down the phone and stared off into space. She hadn’t talked to Andy in at least a year — where had the time gone? He was still a relatively young man. She’d always had a soft spot for him. A big brother type, Andy was funny and engaging, and they’d been through a lot together in their years on the job. And now he was a corpse on a morgue slab, leaving a devastated family to mourn him.
Every agent knew the risks and understood the theoretical possibility of work-related danger, but it still came as a shock whenever one of their own was killed. It was too close to home, and a reminder of the very real downside of the job. Every day, they were in the line of fire, even if it seemed like they were far removed when insulated in their offices and surrounded by manila folder jungles.
The phone’s ringing jarred her back into the moment, and she braced herself for yet another in the long string of anxious calls she had been fielding since arriving that morning. She’d have to process the news about Andy later — right now the task force was her necessary focus. The newspaper coverage had created a firestorm that was set to define her day.
She took a long pull on her coffee as the strident clamoring demanded her immediate attention, then reluctantly picked up the phone.
Chapter 6
Silver exited the cab at the curb in front of Ben’s building and pressed her way through the swarm of lunchtime pedestrians. Once in the lobby, she waited for the ponderous elevator to arrive, nervously checking her watch. She only had an hour she could be away from the office, and with travel that would barely leave her half an hour with Ben. And they had a lot of ground to cover.
At the firm’s reception desk, a well-groomed young woman took her name and murmured into a headset. Silver busied herself with her phone, responding to e-mails that never seemed to stop coming in. As expected there had been considerable agitation over the photo spread, and everyone from the mayor on down was demanding action and answers.
Ten minutes later another woman approached from a door behind the receptionist and escorted her to a meeting room.
Another three minutes ticked by before a rotund and bearded Ben, wearing his trademark gray suit, entered carrying a file. He sat down heavily across the table from her and leaned over to shake her hand.
“You look good, Silver,” he boomed in his rich baritone voice. “Fighting crime must agree with you. What’s it been? Three — no, four years?”
“About that. Thanks, Ben. You’re too kind. Time marches on…”
“I know you’re probably in a hurry, so I’ll cut straight to the chase. I had a clerk pull the file at the courthouse, and basically your ex is filing for full custody of Kennedy, offering you weekend visitation rights.”
“But he can’t do that! He has no grounds. I’ve provided everything a mother could,” Silver protested.
“I understand. But he contends that with the amount you work you aren’t supplying a healthy living situation for Kennedy. He claims that ten or more hours a day you’re leaving her in the care of schools and babysitters, and that it’s having a negative effect on her mental health. He filed a placeholder for testimony from experts, including a counselor from her school, a teacher or principal, a Jane Doe and a shrink. Claims that Kennedy has a stress-related disorder stemming from this unhealthy living situation that involves self-mutilation, and that she’s developing increasingly anti-social tendencies.” Ben stopped consulting his notes. “What’s that all about?”
Silver had stiffened. “What a miserable asshole. Kennedy has had some developmental problems adjusting to being in a single parent home, mainly because her father decided to screw everything in a skirt while she was an infant, as you know.”
“I recall the case, Silver. But that’s ancient history. It will have a bearing, but what the court will really care about is the testimony from third parties on how she’s doing now. Do you have any idea what they’ll say? Who’s he going to get to throw dirt?” Ben asked, cutting to the chase. There was no point reconfirming what they both already knew about Eric’s trysts.
Silver paused and thought about it.
“Kennedy suffered from an anxiety disorder, which is documented, so there’s no point in denying it. But it isn’t because of my bad parenting, or my schedule, or because I’m somehow deficient. The likeliest explanation is that she wishes her mommy and daddy were still together under the same roof — which isn’t on the table because daddy likes to bang most of the halfwit strippers in Manhattan. So if anyone wants to point a finger and play the blame game that’s where the problem lies. And now the very same scumbag who caused the breakup of our family wants to take my daughter away so he can look more appealing on an election poster? Over my dead body.” Silver had reddened as she finished, and from the look on Ben’s face she realized she was losing her cool.
“So she has this disorder. Can’t argue that. What will her doctor say?”
“I don’t think she’s allowed to say anything, is she?”
“Kennedy is a minor and Eric is her father. I would say blocking the doctor’s testimony, even if successful, would raise more doubts than it would settle. Better to understand what damage could result from all facts being known.”
Silver considered Ben’s words. What would the doctor’s testimony be like? Was she willing to bet her kid on it?
“Okay, that’s something I’ll need to look into. I have a good relationship with the doc, but you never know. What else?”
“I think you should have meetings with the school so you understand their stance. I know you have your position, but it could be that they view the situation differently. We need to know before we go into battle who our assets are and who will be li
abilities. I’m not saying that any of this has merit, but your ex is a wealthy man, and the firm he’s retained is one of the heavyweights in this realm of law. Reading between the lines of the complaint, they’ll try to paint you as a workaholic whose daughter is an annoying afterthought, and who’s demonstrably suffering due to your lack of attention. It’s also safe to assume they’ll have private detectives nosing around to dig up any dirt on your private life they can.”
“Ha! Best of luck with that. I know convents that see more action than I do.” Silver immediately regretted the glib response.
Ben studied her. “I’ll throw up as many obstacles as I can and buy as much time as possible. Nothing is going to happen quickly. But you need to treat this as a very real threat and start circling the wagons.”
“What about visitations? I want to cut him off at the knees.”
“Not advisable. Would make you look like you’re using your daughter as a pawn. That’s how they’ll spin it. We need to be the good guys here. You’ll just have to suck it up and try to be as civil as you can manage while I develop a strategy.”
“All right. What else do you need?”
He closed the file and sighed. “A retainer. This won’t be inexpensive to fight. While I hate to bother you with money, we’ll have some very real expenses. Our own experts, private investigators, filings, motions, time crafting a response…this could run six figures, Silver.” Ben’s voice had lost some of its usual deep timbre.
“Six figures! That’s insane. Are you serious? How am I supposed to come up with that kind of money?” Silver felt like she was drowning, the air heavy and stifling. Her limbs had gone numb, and she could feel her pulse hammering in her ears.
“Honestly, I don’t know. But I’m not going to lie to you. Maybe we can get away with less, but there’s no way of knowing. Eric has money. He’s going to use that as a weapon against you. Recognize that and learn to deal with it.” Ben paused. “I’ll need twenty-five thousand to start. I’ll try to make that last as long as possible, but it’s going to take a lot more to see this through, Silver. It stinks, I know, but the monster will need to be fed.”
Silver Justice Page 6
