by Jace Killan
Guzman rose and went to a desk in the corner, aside the kitchen. He scribbled something on a piece of paper and returned, handing it to Joaquin. “Write a draft email here. Don’t send it, just save it. I’ll do the same for you.”
Joaquin committed the email to memory then placed it back to Guzman’s extended hand. Guzman withdrew a lighter and set the slip of paper on fire.
“Jaqui, you should probably let me put your mom under my protection.”
The comment caused Joaquin’s stomach to drop. Not that he feared Ericson any more than he feared Guzman, especially when the cartel boss discovered the fate in store for him. If Joaquin’s mom were in cartel care, she’d surely be used as leverage against him. Likewise, if he protested to Guzman’s offer, it’d be extremely suspicious. He had to go along with it. Live to fight another day.
“I’d appreciate that,” Joaquin said. “Do you really think Ericson would try something?”
Guzman nodded. Joaquin heard Guzman through the look in his eyes. The two women were a very expensive insurance policy, securing nearly a billion dollars.
47
“Everything alright?” Spencer asked.
Jared leaned closer to the phone, setting in the middle of he and Spencer.
Joaquin’s voice came across the line from his burner, “Um. Yeah, mostly. Trip went good. I got back last night.”
“Where are you now?”
“Bathroom of the American Way Market. It’s Tuesday.”
The mention of the barbeque joint made Jared’s mouth water. He’d lived off cafeteria food for the past two months now.
“Did the hack work?”
“Yes,” Jared said, “Though I’m having trouble matching up the trades with communications from Guzman to Junior. Some do, but a lot don’t, and I only found information on one account for Guzman, but it hardly matches the amount of distributions from Northern.” Jared considered telling Spencer and the others about Joaquin’s million, but part of him thought maybe Joaquin deserved the payday. He was after all putting his life at risk, for no real compensation or support from the federal government. He decided to keep it close to his chest for now.
“So where’s the rest going?” Spencer asked.
“To a guy named Chris Ericson,” Joaquin said. “We were in lock up together with Guzman.”
Jared Googled the name and skimmed the headlines that appeared. “Oh yeah, this is the guy that stole like seventy million from some banks?”
“Yeah. I bet he’s been the mastermind behind this whole scheme.”
“Makes sense,” Jared said. “Was he down there?”
“No. And Guzman hasn’t seen him for over a year.”
Spencer cleared his throat. “But Junior’s probably working for Ericson as well as Guzman.”
“I suppose so. But hey, Spence, you got to help my mom. Guzman says he’s going to put her into protective custody against...”
The call ended abruptly. They waited a couple minutes to see if Joaquin would call back, eventually assuming that he’d been interrupted.
“I’ll get eyes on his mom.” Spencer stood.
Jared nodded. “This Ericson is a good lead. I’m going to follow up with the European Securities and Market Authority. I’ve got to figure out the NIS connection.”
Spencer smiled. “You’ve become quite the agent, Jared. I’m glad you joined us.”
In some ways, Jared was glad, too. He’d only wished it’d been under different circumstances. If he hadn’t joined Mayhew’s firm, he would’ve never met Spencer or considered working for the FBI. Now as it were, came some silver lining in the storms since Emma died.
Mostly he missed his kids, but had resolve in knowing the end grew near. He’d be with them soon enough. As soon as he knew they were safe from the bad guys.
He dialed Brittany of the ESMC.
“Yes, Jared of the FBI.” That was how she referred to him these days. He kind of liked it, and the two had settled on a coffee date if and when they ever met. “I am glad you called. We have found something you should be interested in. A company by the name of Bastian Financial has achieved exceptional returns this past year, benefiting mostly from terrorist attacks as you indicated.”
Jared had struck gold. But he needed to extract it from the ore.
“Great. Send me what you can. And run the name Chris Ericson through your databases, we think he is involved.” Jared ended the call and dialed Dan Washburn of the CIA. After pretending to not know Jared, Washburn came around, “Oh yeah, you’re that bald kid, right?”
“Sure. Listen, there’s been some updates.”
“Spencer was just here, we’ve got our people looking into Ericson as we speak.”
“Perfect,” Jared said. “But there’s more. Bastian Financial is a firm in Paris. They’re doing the same thing as my old firm Northern, but my guess is that the cartel isn’t involved with Bastian. They’ve made a lot of money over the year as a result of terrorist activity.”
“How much money?”
“I don’t know that. The ESMC is sending over what they found, most likely trade history, but we’ll need a lot more if we want to find out who these guys are—phone records, IP addresses, bank accounts, that sort of stuff.”
“Consider it done.”
Joaquin had to go to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. He had to talk with someone. Kristin would be his natural outlet but he’d distanced himself since returning from Mexico.
The cartel already had his mom. He worried that they’d want to use Kristin to manipulate him also. And if not the cartel then Ericson.
That thought still threw him for a loop. Ericson was greedy, sure, but to shack up with the cartel? That was farfetched. He especially didn’t seem like the type to put a hit out on Jared, or even be okay with that.
Joaquin entered, minutes after the meeting had started. Sitting, he immediately experienced peace. Strange how his mind had grown accustomed to the healing effects of group. Nothing had changed—just his mind. It would be all right.
Eventually it was his time to share. “My name is Joaquin and I’m a recovering meth addict. My addiction has taken a lot from me, due to my poor choices. Not just missed opportunities but years of my life, and even the life of my best friend, because of me—my choices. And yet I sit here tonight with you a man who is eight years sober.”
Clapping came from the dozen others.
“While my addiction has taken a lot from me, also it has given me a lot. It’s given me the opportunity to understand myself and learn and grow from the trials and struggles of my addiction. Eight years hasn’t been easy. Not at all. There were times I’d hoped it would all end and if I’d had a way to end it I would have. But despite all I’ve lost, I do believe I have gained more.”
Joaquin looked around the room, meeting the eyes of his fellow addicts, searching for imposters, those that might be there to spy on him, use his words against him—he saw none.
“I have another best friend that I wouldn’t have met if it wasn’t for my addiction. I have a terrific job, also because of my addiction. I believe I’ve found my calling in life and I’m doing something that, if they knew, would make my parents proud.
“I’m so blessed. You see, I’ve been given a chance at redemption. I’m finally about something good and frankly, I figured I’d lose my life in this fight. But here I am. And I want to live. Not for me, but for the life I’m enjoying right now. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to lose my friends. And especially my mom. She’s in trouble and I...” He stopped. He’d said too much. “With that, I’ll pass.”
He didn’t dare meet their eyes; they bore into his mind. He didn’t bother closing with the rest of the group. Suddenly he became triggered. The group didn’t help. It was supposed to be a safe place for sharing, yet he didn’t feel that way now.
He jumped up and headed out the double doors into a darkened hallway. He worried about his mom. But what could he do? If he blew his cover they’d be more at risk.
>
The FBI said they’d handle it. Spencer said he’d handle it. Joaquin needed to have faith in that. Still he wanted to talk it out with someone, but he couldn’t. Not with Kristin, not with the group...
“Hey.”
Joaquin turned toward the sound, spotting Bruce in one of the darkened rooms. “What are you doing?”
Bruce shrugged. “Spying. You okay?”
“Fine. Spying on me?”
“Not at first. I followed Junior here. He was spying on you. But then he got a call and left. I saw you and thought I could catch you when he wasn’t around. What’s this about your mom?”
Terror struck Joaquin and he pushed it aside. “What do you mean?”
“She in trouble?”
Joaquin breathed deep then conceded, lowering his gaze and nodding his head. “Yeah. The cartel took her into protective custody. They say they’re trying to help me out, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that they’ll use her as leverage if I step out of line.”
Bruce nodded. “I see.” He drew close, wrapping his massive arms around Joaquin. “God’s got this. It’ll be alright.”
His words and hug simmered Joaquin a little. He patted Joaquin on the shoulder and headed down the hall outside.
48
Junior waited for his phone to ring. Every second that passed he grew more relieved and more nervous. Relieved that perhaps this wasn’t as big a deal to Askari as Junior perceived, and nervous that instead of phoning, Askari had decided to simply pull the plug on their operation. If that were the case then Junior, no longer in the know, could expect a bullet in the head just as soon as a phone call.
Or this was paranoia.
The phone rang, Junior sighed in relief, but still answered in a tense tone.
“Need I ask?” Askari said.
“They got him,” Junior replied. They, whoever they was, had captured the hitman Cesar.
“Is he talking?”
Most certainly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a few men on the inside that will give him a welcome party as soon as he lands in county.”
“What if he doesn’t go to county? What if he doesn’t go to prison at all because he turns on us and the Feds give him immunity?”
Good questions, but Askari would already know the answers. He just wanted to hear Junior say it. “You’re protected. If Cesar talks, and he won’t, but if he does, he can point the finger no further than me and maybe Guzman, cause Cesar knows I work for him. You’re protected.” Those words might have just sealed his fate. Askari most certainly was of the mindset of tying up loose ends and he’d just told the guy who those were.
“Good. And Joaquin?”
“Same. He knows nothing about you.”
“Kill him.”
Good, Askari wanted something. Maybe that meant Junior was safe and he had an opportunity to make some extra money. “Done. Anything else?”
“Close it down. Before you kill him have Joaquin transfer all funds to the bank account number I’m texting to you now.”
“Yes sir.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Askari said. “Do this and I let your kid live.”
A lump formed in Junior’s throat. Before he realized his involuntary reaction, it’d already been too long for a denial response. “What kid?”
“Come now. I know about your son JJ.”
Junior had thought he’d covered his tracks well enough to shield his kid from any blowback this might cause. Guzman didn’t even know about JJ. Or so he thought.
“What sort of deal?”
“Transfer all the funds, kill Joaquin and that, that secretary chick, and anyone else you think might be a problem.”
“Jared?”
“Screw Jared. That bastard’s got nine lives. But it looks like he’s out of the picture anyway, right?”
Maybe. Possibly. “Right.”
“I want Guzman’s money. I’ll split it with you.”
He liked that idea. “How would I get it?”
“C’mon, Junior, you’re smarter than that. You know the bank and the accounts. Figure it out. Get me half. Otherwise your kid’s...”
Splitting it sounded almost generous, like he and Askari were partners. But now it sounded more like ransom. “Got it.” He wasn’t sure how, but stealing Guzman’s money wouldn’t be that difficult. He could probably even use Joaquin to make it happen. “Anything else?”
“No Junior, you’ve been a good soldier for most of our adventure. A word of advice though,” Askari paused as if he wanted Junior to ask for the word. Junior didn’t and Askari continued, “I’d role on Guzman if I were you. That’s who they want. You’re unknown. They don’t care about you. They think if they take out Guzman, they can end the cartel. Just give them what they want. Go into witness protection, spend the rest of your life with your son as a rich man.”
Junior wasn’t a snitch. He was loyal. A soldier. But he considered it, just a little. To roll on Guzman would be suicide. Only a fool would think that he could hide from the cartel under the protection of the U.S. Marshalls. And he couldn’t just rat out the cartel. He’d have to point fingers at Askari too, which would significantly diminish Junior’s financial holdings. No, he wasn’t a snitch.
The sun hadn’t yet risen when Jared received a call from Dan Washburn, head of the CIA. Oh how his life had changed over the past few months.
“We got it,” Washburn said.
“What?”
“Bastian Financial.”
Jared shot up in bed and yawned away the sleep. “How?”
“We had a team plant some malware on their network. We’ve got everything. I’ll send you a link to the files. There’s a lot to go through, and I imagine you’re better suited at this than our analysts will be, but we’ll help however you need.”
“Thanks Dan. I really appreciate it.”
Jared ended the call and his phone chimed with the address. He rolled out of bed, used the john, then returned, to the warmth of his sheets, laptop in tow.
A few minutes later he’d accessed the secured files through a remote connection to an encrypted hard drive somewhere, probably not at Langley. It took a moment, flipping through documents before Jared got a sense of their filing system. His was better, but theirs made sense.
Almost an hour later, the sun shone into his apartment, though he still lay in bed, staring at the screen, flipping through files. He’d discovered the trade logs, though by themselves they could have been written in Chinese. They weren’t but he couldn’t follow the trades without context. He opened a browser and began searching the dates and ticker symbols listed on the logs. That proved fruitless and time consuming.
He only needed one. One connection to insider trading or market manipulation would shine light on others. But for now, he could have just as well been sleeping for the past hour. He still had nothing. It was somewhere in front of him. He breathed deep and shook the frustration from his mind.
He tried another angle. Ignoring the dates, he searched the ticker symbols for sectors. He’d learned from the ESMC that Bastian had made trades, shorting the German airline sometime before the plane crash. Searching for that ticker symbol, he found a series of trades occurring in March earlier that year through six companies.
He searched by name for those companies and located their folders on the secured hard drive. This probably wasn’t all of it, but finally a start. It took him another hour to familiarize himself with the companies’ structures, domiciles, and holdings.
Jared spent another hour following a lineage of one company, hoping but not expecting it to lead to its owner. The trail dead-ended into a company domiciled in Antigua, the money laundering capital of the world.
Jared abandoned his efforts on that front, instead focusing on the mere dollar amounts each gained from trades benefiting from market manipulation.
Two hours later, he had a fully written dossier detailing the amounts of money held by twenty-four different companies that they gained through specific acts of
market manipulation and money laundering.
“What did you find out?” Spencer asked.
“Just sent it over,” Jared said. “Check your inbox.”
Spencer’s desktop chimed indicating he’d received an email. He opened it and downloaded the attached dossier. It took a second for the software to scan and open the encrypted document.
“Give me the highlights.” Spencer skimmed the document following the trail Jared had laid out linking Bastian Financial to the NIS and, he smiled, Askari.
“It’s the missing piece, we’ve needed. The smoking gun. I’ve got company names, account numbers, banks, addresses, executives, attorneys—it’s all here, Spence.”
“That’s great.”
“And Ericson that Joaquin told us about,” Jared cleared his throat, “He’s Askari.”
Spencer pondered that. “So a guy in lockup with Guzman and Joaquin for a ponzi scheme gets out and suddenly becomes an Islamic radical? Does that make sense?”
“I don’t get it, but I’m certain of it. I found some old communications on Bastian’s server from Askari. I followed the IPs back to an apartment in Arizona registered to Chris Ericson.”
“Okay then. We should probably wrap this up. Get Joaquin indoors.” Relief rushed through Spencer like a good piss. He’d been more and more worried as the operation continued, more so since Emma died. It would be nice having Joaquin in from the cold, safe.
“I’m still going through the data,” Jared said. “I get the sense they’re building up to something.”
“Who’s they?”
“Askari. The terrorists.”
“Something like the anthrax scares?”
“Maybe. Maybe something more. Just a gut feeling. I’ll comb through the recent trades and see what I can figure out.”
“Do that and keep me posted.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Jared.”
“Yeah?”
“Great work. I appreciate you helping us out.”
Spencer immediately dialed Joaquin. It felt good to tell him that he didn’t have to spy anymore. “We couldn’t have done this without you, I hope you know that. You’re a great hero. Every bit a hero as your brother and father.”
