Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series)

by Loy, Tracie Ingersoll

  After hitting the print button, Cassie gathered up her things. By the time she walked up to pay for the document, it had finished printing.

  “Did you get everything you needed?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “We open tomorrow at nine if you need to come back.”

  “Thanks. I’ll probably be here.”

  The light was still on in the motel office when she walked back. Maybe they had a fax. “Hello?” Cassie called out when she entered the office. No one appeared, but she thought she heard grumbling in the back office, so she called a little louder.

  “Hang on. I’m back here with this damn computer. I’ll be out in a minute,” the woman yelled. She sounded frustrated. “Damn computers. They make me so mad.” The woman stomped to the front.

  “They have a way of doing that,” Cassie agreed. Fortunately, she’d had her brother to help her out of many a computer snafu. “What’s going on? Maybe I can help.”

  “If you could, I’d be thrilled. Personally, I’d like to take a sledgehammer to it and go home.”

  “Show me the way.”

  Cassie followed the older woman to the back room. The offending piece of equipment was old and probably needed to be replaced, but she didn’t want to be bearer of bad news. Besides, it was more than she had at the moment. After listening to a long detailed description of what happened, Cassie asked, “Do you have any security software installed on it?”

  The woman showed her various software programs, still in their boxes, unopened. She looked so forlorn. “I’m tired and it’s been a long day. I just want to close up and go home. My favorite television show is starting and it’s the season opener.”

  Cassie smiled and nodded. She understood. “I think it’s just a matter of cleaning up the computer with these security programs.” She had an idea. “You know, I wouldn’t mind doing that for you, if you wouldn’t mind me using the computer afterwards?” Please say yes.

  “You mean, you would do all that, and I could…just leave?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman studied her and then nodded her head. “Deal.” She locked her desk, the filing cabinet and practically ran out the door. “I’ll turn off the lights in the outer office and lock up there too. Close the office door behind me so no one can see you working. People can be relentless when they want something. When you leave, everything will lock in place.” She smiled. “And thank you.”

  Spotting a fax machine in the corner, Cassie’s spirits zoomed. “No, thank you.”

  Perhaps Cassie hadn’t listened to Eduardo when he droned on about banking, but she had listened to her brother about computers. In a relatively short period of time, she had the motel’s computer up and running with security software installed and doing its job. While it processed, she took the time to get her thoughts in order. If she faxed the documentation to the bank in the Caymans now, everything would be waiting when the people arrived at work. If she could locate all the accounts Sergei had hidden, then tomorrow morning she was only a few keystrokes away from getting everything done. That seemed to be a lot of ifs. Using her phone card, Cassie faxed the information to the first if—the bank in the Caymans. Now, the wait was on.

  Looking around the office, she spotted an old-style adding machine, the kind that required the numbers to be punched in before pulling the handle, which recorded the calculations on roll of paper. The time had come to assess her dead acting career and lost wages. She started with the latest incident and worked her way through, remembering more and more. An acute sense of sadness overwhelmed her when she saw the total amount—thousands of dollars. She had allowed someone else to take power of her dream, but more importantly, her livelihood. With determination and clarity, Cassie labeled each entry, made two copies, and stored it safely with her new account information.

  It was eleven before Cassie logged on. The computer chugged along slowly, but it worked. From the way things were working, it would be a long night. No wonder the woman had a lumpy old couch pushed up against the wall.

  At the bank, Sandy had told her all routing numbers were on the Internet, so it was just a process of deduction. Taking Sergei’s ego into account, Cassie figured the banks must be in the Los Angeles area, so she searched “foreign banks - Los Angeles.” Her mouth dropped open in surprise at how many banks were listed. Looking at the addresses, they seemed to be clustered near each other. So who was located near Eduardo’s family bank? A lot of other South American banks, one right in the same building.

  Lining up the numbers from the one hundred dollar bills, Cassie started her search. It didn’t take long before she found her first routing match. Accessing Internet banking, Cassie tapped in the account number, and then it asked for the PIN. She held her breath and keyed in the same four digits like before. Entrée, she was in. She let her breath out.

  “Oh, Sergei, thank you for being so lazy and egotistical.”

  Her heart raced examining the account. This also had ninety-five hundred dollars in it.

  As the night went on, Cassie matched routing numbers to banks, all within a block or two of each other, using the same PIN. Each account had identical amounts deposited. At two o’clock, she finished and collapsed on the lumpy sofa. Closing her eyes, she prayed to her mother for help, then her Dad, and whoever else might listen.

  She awoke with a start. Her senses buzzed trying to make sense of everything. Cassie listened to the familiar sounds of a fax machine spitting out information. Even though she felt like death warmed over, her pulse quickened when she saw the header. The bank in the Caymans had replied. A surge of adrenaline blasted through her body when she read the entire document. Even though it was only five o’clock in the morning, she was now fully awake.

  After collecting all four pages, Cassie erased any evidence of a fax coming through. She wrote a note to the motel manager, explaining what she’d done, thanked her for the computer usage, and also stated she wanted to stay one more night if anyone cancelled. Signed, Alexa.

  Chapter Five

  The cool early morning air felt good when she exited the motel office. Her stomach growled, but the grime and aches she felt from the sofa beat out her hunger. Cassie headed to her room for a hot shower, quick cup of pick-me-up coffee, and then she’d locate a place for breakfast.

  Feeling revived, she revved up Old Blue and meandered in the direction of the docks in search of an open diner. From growing up around water, fishing equaled early morning risers and tucked away cafes. With Morro Bay’s fishing industry, she figured it couldn’t be much different. A block away from the wharf, the bright lights of an open sign blinked continuously, beckoning her. Cassie parked and headed on in. The smell of coffee, toast, and bacon greeted her.

  “Find a seat anywhere,” called a waitress. “Over there is good if you want a view.” She pointed to the empty tables next to the window.

  A couple of men at the counter noticed her, but otherwise, everyone else seemed preoccupied with the food and newspapers in front of them. A constant low level buzz filled the air.

  Cassie chose a table in the far corner where she could spread the fax out and study it. Before she settled in, the waitress stood next to her.

  “Coffee this morning?” she asked, with a full pot and cup in hand. Her blond beehive hairdo and very pink lipstick fit the café.

  “Yes, and a lot, please.”

  “You know what you want?” She poured Cassie a cup.

  Cassie looked around for the menu and saw they were stuck between the salt and pepper shaker. Quickly, she glanced at the menu.

  “Crab omelet with sourdough toast?”

  “Yep. One of my favorites. Do you want hash browns with that?”

  “Why not.” It was going to be a long day, and she needed all the fuel she could get. Besides, no one was going to be hiring her for any acting job soon, espec
ially with her ex-boyfriend stealing millions of dollars in profits from DVDs.

  Cassie ate her food, read the various fax pages, and formulated a plan. From what she could tell, she was good to go with the account in the Caymans. It was just a matter of someone legally verifying her. Sandy at the bank could do that. From there, she would go to the library and transfer the monies. A pang of guilt needled her for a moment, but then she thought about her calculations from the night before. Sergei was getting off easy.

  “More coffee?”

  “Ah yes.” Casually, Cassie folded the fax pages and tucked them away. “Um, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could get a Los Angeles Times, do you?”

  “Well sure, honey, right here.” Beehive Hairdo grinned and pointed to the counter. “Curtis’s son Tony works for the Times and has it delivered every day. Complimentary. That’s what the men are reading.” She turned and yelled, “Curtis, get me an extra one of those Times. The young lady wants to read it.” She turned back to Cassie. “We get it here first, then it’s delivered elsewhere. Curtis likes to read it with his breakfast every morning. Tony’s a good son.”

  “I guess so.” Cassie gladly accepted the newspaper from the so-called Curtis, who quickly retreated back to his spot.

  “I’ll let you get to your newspaper. Holler if you need anything.”

  Cassie flipped through the Times, hoping for any article about Sergei. She found one toward the back of the first section with a picture and the text reading, “Sergei Koslov also known as, Yuri Sergslov, and his longtime girlfriend, Sashay, an artist and sculptor, leaving the courthouse.”

  “What the hell!” She was his girlfriend, not some dimwitted artist.

  “Everything okay, hon?” called the waitress.

  All the men at the counter were turned, looking at her. The buzz of conversation had halted. If a pin dropped, it would have echoed in the silence.

  She swallowed hard, trying not to reveal her anger. “Everything is fine. I was just reading about…um…the price of gasoline going up.”

  The men nodded and went back to their reading.

  Cassie took a closer look at the photo and recognized the woman. She’d been to their house for a New Year’s Eve party. This had to be why Sergei kept lugging home god-awful paintings and putting them up on the walls. Shaking her head, Cassie wondered what bubble-wrapped world she’d been living in. Obviously, one with a lot of excrement. When she finished reading the Times, she was still livid.

  Never underestimate a pissed off woman, thought Cassie. You owe me big-time asshole. She pulled out her fax and studied the pages. Then she read the banking pamphlets Sandy had given her. Previously, she hadn’t understood the significance of Sergei’s account balances, but now she did. By law, banks had to report to the banking police if the account was over ten thousand dollars. Sergei was just under the red flag of legality, but he wouldn’t be when she got through with him.

  Cassie handed back the newspaper when she paid for her breakfast.

  “Honey, you can keep that. We have a lot more,” said Miss Beehive.

  “Thanks.” She tucked it up under her arm.

  “You have a nice day now,” she said.

  “You know, I think I will.”

  It took about five seconds at the bank to notarize her. Cassie headed back to the motel office to see if she could use the fax machine.

  “Hello?” She stood at the counter looking around. Again, the office seemed empty. Previously she hadn’t noticed a manager’s sign on the back wall, but she did now. Betty Wilson. “Betty?”

  “Is that you, Alexa?”

  How had she signed her note? “Yes, it’s me.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.” Betty came through the back office door, smiling. “I don’t know what you did to that thing, but it works better than ever.”

  “I’m glad I could be of help. Sometimes it’s just a matter of hitting a few buttons. Real quick question, do you know where there’s a fax machine I can use?” Cassie smiled.

  “I have one you can use. If it’s long distance, I’ll have to charge you for the call.”

  “It is, but I have a phone card.”

  “Good. Come on back then.” She lifted the counter gate and Cassie walked through, following her to the back office. “Do you know how to use those things?”

  “I think so. They’re pretty much all the same.”

  “You go ahead and use it while I finish up the computer work.”

  “Great.”

  Cassie keyed in the phone card number and then the Cayman’s bank number. She waited for the signal before feeding the fax. According to the information she’d received previously, it was just a matter of time for the bank to activate the account. This information she could get at the library. Keeping her back to Betty, Cassie keyed in a couple of false fax numbers to erase her original destination.

  “That thing not working properly?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just finishing up.” She turned and smiled.

  “Got your note about spending another night. So far we haven’t had a cancellation. You can check later if you want. Sorry you can’t spend the weekend. The Art Fair is wonderful, but we are totally full. You might be able to see some of the booths who set up early.”

  Cassie thanked her and headed out.

  With time to kill waiting for the library to open, she parked the truck in the library parking lot and went in search of coffee. The early morning cups had worn off, and she yearned for her daily double shot of espresso. It didn’t take long to find it. All she had to do was look for the steady stream of people heading into a shop and leaving with a coffee.

  Cassie took her time and window-shopped. She enjoyed the hubbub of activity on the street. The morning sun glistened in an art gallery window, reflecting off a beautiful mosaic glass structure. She stopped and admired the creation. A man in the gallery waved and smiled, and she did the same. The gallery lights lit, allowing a much better view of the inside of the store. Her heart skipped a few beats when she recognized a god-awful painting, similar to the ones that graced Sergei’s office. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes practically popped out of her head when she saw the price tag. Sergei not only hid his money, he had it tied up in Sashay’s butt ugly paintings.

  At five after nine, Cassie strolled through the library, heading toward the computers. A few keystrokes later and the Cayman’s bank website popped up. She keyed in her account number from the fax and held her breath. Relief flooded her looking at the screen—she was in. It was time to get to work.

  After reading the banking guidelines from the pamphlet, the government monitored large amounts of monies transferred in and out of accounts and also unusual activity. It initiated red flags. Cassie transferred in the first ninety-five hundred from one account, then another and another, until all nineteen were sitting in Sergei’s account at Eduardo’s bank. After waiting what she felt a reasonable amount of time, she checked his balance. All of the ninety-five hundred dollars had been noted, bringing the balance to one hundred eighty thousand five hundred dollars. The amount she’d lost and then some. The red flags had to be flapping in the wind, signaling the officials at all ends. A few keystrokes later, she transferred it into her new untraceable account in the Caymans.

  Sergei Koslov, you have a nice day.

  The relaxed atmosphere of Morro Bay had enticed her, so she wandered back toward the motel to see if Betty had a cancellation. The gallery doors now stood propped open with a copper sculpture; she paused and looked in, admiring most of the art.

  “Entre, darling.” The perfectly coiffed blond man with a stunning suit smiled and waved her in. “I know you.”

  She froze.

  “You were here earlier window gazing. I never forget a face.”

  Relief shot through her. �
�I was.” Cassie smiled and nodded. “I’m curious about all the paintings.” She pointed. “Are those paintings by Sashay?”

  “A fan!” He clapped his hands together.

  “Not exactly,” she mumbled.

  “Wonderful eye. Extraordinary taste, darling. Not everyone recognizes her talent. She will be the next Picasso. I’m certain. In fact, what are you doing this evening?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “To start off the gala weekend, we are hosting a cocktail hour with the luscious Sashay. She’ll be mingling with her fans. And oh, that wonderful ruffian Russian of hers is coming too. Oh, I just wish…I just wish he wasn’t so darn straight.” His eyes glowed with a savage inner fire.

  It took every ounce of self-control to remain calm and not bolt out of the gallery. After the initial shock, her sense of humor took over.

  “Are you sure? Are you one hundred percent positive he’s straight? I think you should just go for it. It’s obvious to me you care very deeply about the wonderful ruffian Russian. So often in life we never have the opportunity to let someone know exactly how we feel. You have this chance tonight. I say let him know what you’re really feeling. There is no time like the present.”

  “Oh, merci.”

  “Oui.” Cassie looked at her watch. “Ah, I must go. Let me get back to you about this evening.” She walked straight out the door, kept her head down, and hurried down the street.

  So much for spending another night.

  Chapter Six

  "Ma’am, you’ve got to move this truck. You’re blocking traffic. I gotta load this ferry.”

  “I don’t know what to do. It won’t start.”

  Cassie turned the key again. Nothing. Not even a whir or a gurgle. She had been waiting for two hours in Anacortes for the ferry to Hartz Island. Not every ferry leaving Anacortes, Washington, stopped at the island. The next one wouldn’t be until four, pulling into Hartz at six p.m.