Brainy-BOOM!

by Wally Duff

  “What did you say?” Cas asked.

  “Sorry, I was thinking about when Janet and I went to Fertig’s office. His nurse tried to sell us his supplements, but we didn’t buy them. Later, Frankie had one of his guys complain about Fertig’s charges. The result was Fertig’s office manager sent Janet a one-month supply of the supplements for free.”

  “That was a year and a half ago,” Linda reminded me. “How is that going to help us now?”

  “Janet gave those supplements to Frankie to have them analyzed by another one of his guys. If we can compare those supplements to the ones her doctor is selling now and prove they’re not the same, we’ll have her.”

  “Did Janet ever tell you what Frankie’s guy found out about those supplements?” Linda asked.

  Whoopsie.

  “No, and honestly, I was busy having Macy and forgot about it,” I said.

  “Why don’t you call Janet and find out the results?” Cas asked.

  I did and put her on speaker. I told her what we needed.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but Frankie’s guy told me these were high grade vitamins, nothing more, nothing less,” Janet said.

  Darn it!

  “They weren’t some exotic new herb from South America?” I asked.

  “No, they were made in a lab in California, which is why I never followed up on the results with you.”

  “But you don’t have breast cancer, and neither do I,” I said. “There was no reason for Fertig to sell us the real goods that would cure breast cancer. He could peddle anything to us, and we wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “And it will not do us any good to try and obtain what Diane’s surgeon is using now, because if they’re giving supplements, they’re probably the same ones Fertig’s nurse tried to sell you when you were in his office,” Linda said.

  “Which Diane has a ready supply of because she can buy them in California,” Janet reminded us.

  “It sure couldn’t be what Fertig sold to his breast cancer patients, because he was the only one who knew where to get them,” Cas said.

  “And he’s dead,” Molly said.

  Now what?

  100

  Thursday morning, Carter was at work and I was busy being a mommy. Macy had finished breastfeeding and was down for her nap. Kerry was in preschool.

  I sat in front of my computer and reviewed my files on Zhukov.

  Huh?

  I called Linda. “Something is screwy,” I said.

  “Something is always screwy in your life,” she responded.

  I wanted to disagree, but after losing two bodies, it was hard to do.

  “Did you go over Zhukov’s computer files again?” I began.

  “I did, and then I asked a forensic accountant in Howard’s firm to repeat my work. He emailed me the report yesterday.” She paused. “Why are you calling about this right now?”

  “I was going over my Zhukov files and saw I hadn’t received a follow-up report from you.”

  “It must be hard keeping track of all these stories.”

  “Tell me.” It was my turn to pause. “Give it to me.”

  “Remember that I guessed the Russian Mafia was one of Zhukov’s clients.”

  “You did, and you thought he was stealing from them.”

  “We were spot on. Zhukov’s final theft tally was one hundred fifty million dollars.”

  Whoa.

  “One hundred million was Russian Mafia money,” she continued. “The rest came from his other investors.”

  “Where did Zhukov hide the funds he embezzled?”

  “In a secret off-shore account in a Cayman Islands bank, but I missed one item, and it was so simple I’m embarrassed to admit it.”

  “What was it?”

  “I didn’t notice when Zhukov stole the money.”

  “I assume he did it before he was killed.”

  “He did, but it was stolen a second time, the morning of the night you copied his files.”

  What?

  “Wait, I’m confused. Are you telling me that Zhukov didn’t steal all the money?”

  “No, I’m telling you he did steal it all, but that was three days before he left on Tuesday.”

  “He didn’t leave. He was shot and killed Monday night.”

  “Whatever. He hid the money in the Cayman off-shore bank, which was where Howard’s guy found the paper trail.”

  My pulse rate accelerated. All I could see were dollar signs. “Is the money still there?” I asked, thinking I did have a story.

  “No, Howard’s guy discovered all the funds were withdrawn from the bank a second time.”

  The dollar signs disappeared, and my pulse returned to normal. “Where is all that money? Who has it?”

  “You said the killer came back and downloaded the files on Tuesday night when you were there with Molly.”

  “I did.”

  “And on Wednesday night you returned with Cas and downloaded the files yourself.”

  “Yep, but I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

  “The money disappeared from the off-shore account on Wednesday morning.”

  Uh-oh.

  “If the killer works for the Russian Mafia, they now have their money back, Zhukov is dead, and I don’t have a story,” I said. “And don’t say he isn’t dead. He is, the end.”

  “But that’s the problem.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What if the killer doesn’t work for the Russian Mafia? Suppose one of the other angry investors hired her to kill Zhukov and steal his computer files.”

  Uh-oh.

  “The killer tells Zhukov she won’t kill his family if she gets the password to his computer, and he tells her where the money is hidden,” I said.

  “And the angry investor pays off the killer, opens Zhukov’s off-shore files, and transfers all the stolen money to his own account,” she said.

  “If that’s true, the Russian Mafia will be extremely unhappy and they’ll be hunting for that investor.”

  “They know that one hundred million of their dollars are missing, even if it is illegal money. They could go after Zhukov, but according to you, he’s dead and the FBI now has his computer hard drive.”

  “But why is the FBI even interested in me?” I asked. “I don’t know anything about the stupid money.”

  “They don’t know the killer downloaded Zhukov’s computer’s information,” she said. “They think you know what happened to Zhukov and, more importantly, what happened to the money.”

  101

  Damn.

  “They don’t care about Zhukov, but recovering that much illegal money would be front page news — and you know how much the FBI loves positive publicity,” I said.

  “They’re sitting back and waiting for you to lead them to the money or Zhukov or both,” Linda said.

  “It doesn’t take much effort on their part. They let me do all the work and then they sweep in and take all the credit.”

  “And maybe convict you of something illegal in the process. Good thing you have me for your lawyer.” She paused. “Remember, the last time the FBI was after you about a story, they tapped your phones and computer.”

  Uh-oh.

  I stared at my cell phone. “Jana,” I said.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “FBI Agent Jana. She said they would be watching me.”

  “But be realistic. You know they have a limited budget. Would they spend a lot of money monitoring what you do?”

  “No way, but they might do it electronically, which wouldn’t require much staffing.”

  “Do you think they are using a keystroke logger on your computer?”

  The FBI has developed a keystroke logging software called Magic Lantern. It can be installed remotely via an email attachment, so the person doesn’t even know her computer has been compromised. It had been done to my computer before, and when I last had my computer checked, it was gone. Or had the feds reinstalled it?


  Stomach acid bubbled up into my throat.

  “Remember, we downloaded all of Zhukov’s files on your computer,” she reminded me. “You saw the FBI take Zhukov’s hard drive, and they have all his files. If they’re now using a keystroke logger on your computer, they know you do too.”

  Crap!

  “They have to believe I stole the information the Monday night I was there to interview him because they don’t know I came back on Tuesday and Wednesday nights.”

  “I’ll come by tonight and check your computer to make sure we’re right about the keystroke logger.”

  “Deal.”

  Hanging up, I sat down at my computer. If it were compromised, the FBI agents would immediately know what I typed on the keyboard.

  On the other hand, I could use this and play with them a little. I was going to proceed like I normally would in working a story, except they wouldn’t know I was on to them.

  I called up Zhukov’s files. The list of investors was my starting point. There were two hundred thirty-two names. Linda had referred to Zhukov’s killer as a female, but the sex tapes seemed to indicate otherwise. I scanned the list for female names. There were seventy-two. There were also twenty-one investment funds, including the Sturgeon Corporation.

  One of the most boring aspects of investigative journalism is to do background checks, and this was a big list. I typed in the names that I would typically investigate, but then I stopped. Trying to figure out what I was doing would make a long day for an FBI agent. I was going wake up Macy and play with my daughter.

  Let an FBI agent try and figure out what I was doing.

  102

  Friday morning, Janet and Frankie were in our family room. Macy was upstairs taking her nap. Her Nanit was on. Kerry was in preschool.

  I told them about Zhukov’s money and how Linda discovered a keystroke logger on my computer last night.

  “It couldn’t have been the Russians who killed Zhukov and got the money,” Janet said. “If they did, the FBI would have given up by now. The keystroke logger Linda found on your computer proves the feds are working this hard, and that means there’s a lot of missing money still out there.”

  “The FBI might be thinking you’re the one who stole the one hundred and fifty large,” Frankie said to me.

  “Or they think I know who did,” I said.

  “This is amazing,” she said. “The Russian Mafia and FBI searching for the same money.”

  “Which I don’t have. I wish I did. I would gladly give it up.”

  Frankie furrowed his eyebrows. “Whoa. Finders keepers, babe. Let’s not be giving the freaking farm away unless you have to.”

  “What do we do?” I asked.

  “How about finding the stiff,” he asked, “since he’s the dude that started all this?”

  “I disagree,” Janet said. “You have to find the money.”

  “I think the best way is to do both, find the body and the money,” I said. “But how do we do that?”

  “By finally having our Chicago PD lab guys go over the crime scene,” she said.

  “We don’t have Zhukov’s body, so it’s still not a crime scene” I reminded her. “Will your boss be okay with that?”

  “He will when he finds out we’re trying to screw the feds on a case. He hates them more than I do.” She paused. “I’ll have the computer techs go over the files you downloaded.”

  “Be right back.”

  I rushed down to the computer room and pulled a flash drive copy of Zhukov’s hard drive out of my desk drawer. I brought it back to the family room and handed it to Janet.

  “Last night, since Linda discovered a keystroke logger had been installed on my computer,” I said, “I used Carter’s office computer after he went to bed so I could go over Zhukov’s list of investors again. There were a lot of Russian Jews, mostly lawyers and doctors, but no names jumped out at me. Maybe your techs can help me out.”

  “Done,” she said.

  “Might have my computer guy do a little sniffing too,” Frankie said.

  “Can’t have too much help.” I paused. “Not to change the subject, but what about Sullivan?”

  Frankie turned to Janet. “That the builder guy?”

  “Yeah, but I told you what happened,” she said to him. “Tina lost another body.”

  “I did not,” I said. “Sullivan was killed with a nail gun. The killer shot him in both eyes and his forehead and nailed his hands and feet to the table and floor. I saw his corpse.”

  “And then the corpse pulled the nails out of his eyes, head, hands, and feet and drove home without leaving any foot or tire prints in the fresh snow,” she said.

  “Tough to do,” Frankie teased. “Love to have seen that one.”

  “This isn’t funny,” I said. “Has anyone notified the police that he’s missing?”

  “No one, and his mail delivery is being held at the post office,” she said. “He notified them he’s on vacation. He did the same thing with his newspaper.”

  “The killer did that,” I said.

  “Why bother?” she said. “Most killers don’t go to that much trouble.”

  “Gotta agree with Janet,” he said. “You off a guy, that’s it — bada bing, bada boom. No need to jack around with all this other stuff.”

  “I know what I saw. Someone is doing this, and I’m going to prove it to you guys.”

  103

  “Frankie, one last thing,” I said. “We need your help in bringing down Diane Warren before she tries to harm the Irregulars.”

  “Whaddya need?” Frankie asked.

  “Janet, on Wednesday I called you about Fertig’s supplements, and you said the ones he gave to you were ordinary vitamins from California.”

  “I did,” Janet said.

  “Eddie thinks Fertig might have discovered herbs in the Amazon rain forest that actually cure breast cancer.”

  “Why does he think that?” she asked.

  “My research on Fertig showed that he frequently flew to the Amazon rain forest, and his nurse confirmed that to us,” I said.

  “That was part of her pitch to sell us his supplements, but she was talking about aging.”

  “It was for us, but Eddie thinks Fertig sold actual South American supplements to his cancer patients.”

  “Be worth a lot of money if that’s true,” Frankie said. “Guy shoulda’ sold it worldwide on the Internet.”

  “You didn’t meet him, Frankie,” Janet said. “Fertig would be the kind of guy that would keep the secret to himself so he would become world famous.”

  “If he shared it with anyone, including Diane, the world would know it was the supplements that cured the women and not his surgical skill,” I said.

  “You think Diane figured it out?” he asked.

  “Eddie thinks she did, but only after some of the women who were operated on by Fertig and took the supplements developed a recurrence of their cancers since they can no longer get them.”

  “Why doesn’t Diane go to South America and buy more of the stuff?” he asked.

  “Eddie and I think Fertig killed himself without telling her exactly where he got them. Diane might now be faced with the possibility that the new breast cancer surgeon she hired isn’t any better than the rest of the breast cancer doctors in the world.”

  “She would lose all those new breast cancer patients, and that would cost her serious dough,” Janet said.

  “Rick and David said they were told she went all in financially to save the hospital and the clinic,” I said. “If her business evaporates, she’ll owe the foundation all the money she stole from it and any personal funds she invested, and except for a couple of million dollars, she’ll be broke. But worse, when the word gets out, the world will know she’s a fraud as the CEO and owner of the most profitable hospital in the world.”

  “She’s a woman with a big ego who needs to buy some new supplements from South America to fix her cash flow problems,” he said. “Maybe we can be her suppl
ier instead.”

  After Janet and Frankie left, I made a conference call with the rest of the Irregulars and told them what we’d discussed. We needed to devise a plan to sink Diane.