Eddie Flynn 02-The Plea

by Steve Cavanagh

  I’ve been conned.

  As a former confidence man, that thought was a source of some considerable shame. Even though it was evil, even though people had died, I still could not help but marvel at the sheer ingenuity of it. It was possibly the greatest con I’d ever come across.

  And it had been played on me.

  The SUV slowed and bobbed around the traffic lanes. The Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations were gearing up for the evening. Hundreds of people in green and white littered the sidewalk. Irish souvenir stalls, hot dog carts, and coffee stands fought their way along the line of parade-goers, vying for any last-minute trade. The parade had passed a half hour ago. It would take us at least that long to get to the Lightner Building in this traffic. NYPD were reopening the roads, and the SUV sped up. The city was readying itself for Skyfest, the Saint Patrick’s Day firework display that started in Dublin, then moved city to city. Paris had it last year, and New York wanted to put its own stamp on the tradition.

  I sat beside David in the eight-seater SUV. He looked numb, shaking his head, muttering to himself. I told him to keep quiet. The treasury agents sat in the additional seats behind us. Kennedy had taken a seat in the front, beside Dell, who was driving.

  ‘This is a mess,’ said Dell.

  ‘Your operation is way out of control,’ said Kennedy. ‘I’m here to make sure you don’t harm any civilians on this crazy mission of yours.’

  Dell shot him a look and said, ‘You can bet I’ll be talking to your superior officer after what you pulled. You’re supposed to be my number two on this task force. You’re supposed to be focusing on the firm, not the Child case.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked for the third time. I’d insisted on accompanying David to processing, but I knew there was no way he would be brought to a precinct or the FBI premises. I knew where we were headed – I just wanted confirmation.

  Dell provided it after the fifth time I asked.

  ‘That algo trace your client gave us enabled our tech to follow the money, just like you said. But fourteen minutes ago it crashed. Just before it died, it reported that all of the funds – almost eight billion – did not make it into Ben Harland’s account as planned. Instead it transferred into a Harland and Sinton client account. The name on the client account is “David Child.” Forty-three seconds after it hit the account, the money disappeared. We’re going to Harland and Sinton now, to meet the rest of the team who have already made the arrests. Your client is going to log on to their accounts system, and he’s gonna tell us where he’s hidden the money.’

  ‘I didn’t take the goddamn money,’ screamed David. He was on the brink of another panic attack. I spoke to him softly and gripped his arm hard. The pain brought him down, made him focus.

  I whispered to him, ‘David, tell me you didn’t do this.’

  He looked like he was drowning. His eyes glazed over, and he simply shook his head.

  Was this the face of a man falsely accused for the second time? Or the face of a man who’d stolen the world? I couldn’t tell. I’d allowed myself to get too close.

  I trusted my gut. I’d backed David. I was pretty sure he wasn’t a killer. Would he steal eight billion dollars? I had no clue. I was with him as his counsel, and we were on our way to the building where Christine was being held. Right then all I cared about was getting my wife out of there.

  ‘Let this play out,’ I said.

  He put his head in his hands, and I knew I would get nothing more out of David.

  I typed out a text to the Lizard.

  I’m on my way. Do nothing until I give the Ok.

  ‘You’re the only person with access to that algo, Child. You altered the code last night when you logged into Harland and Sinton’s database and traced the algo – that means either you stole the money or, at the very least, you know where it is. And we’re not leaving that building until you show us exactly what you did and how we trace the cash,’ said Dell.

  I looked at David and he leaned back, wiped his hands on his pants, and puffed out two whimpering breaths.

  It took an hour to get to the offices of Harland and Sinton. In the distance, the final traces of daylight were disappearing behind the Chrysler Building as we stepped out of the car. There was no one waiting for us outside the Lightner Building. Nobody in reception, not a soul standing by the elevator.

  ‘They’re supposed to have this place locked down,’ said Dell, taking a cell phone from his pocket. As we waited for the elevator, I thought I caught a familiar smell.

  Stale cigarettes.

  The elevator opened and the treasury agents fanned out of the doors. Through the glass partition I could see Christine sitting in the conference room with two men. Dell led the way into the large conference room, dominated by the center table.

  Ferrar and Weinstein sat at the conference table drinking coffee. Beside them, Christine, hands cuffed to the front. I ran to her, but Ferrar stood in my way.

  ‘You can’t approach her. She’s in federal custody,’ said Ferrar.

  ‘If you don’t move, you’ll be in the state hospital,’ I said.

  A hand on my shoulder, Kennedy.

  ‘Eddie, calm down. This isn’t helping,’ said Christine. Dirty tear tracks on her face. She looked tired, beaten, resigned to going to jail because of the firm. I shrugged off Kennedy’s hand and made for Christine. Ferrar moved for his weapon but stopped, realized his dominant arm still hurt like hell, and he switched hands to grab for his piece with his left. I pushed past him and embraced Christine.

  ‘Let him go, Ferrar,’ said Kennedy.

  She placed her hands on my stomach and I took her in my arms. I could feel her trembling. I kissed her head and her mouth and held her close, tight. I whispered, ‘When you get out of here, you keep going and do not come back, no matter what happens. Amy’s okay. She’s with Carmel.’

  She said nothing, but I felt her legs shift and give way. I held her tight. Her worry for Amy was all that had kept her going. Now that she knew our daughter was safe, her body was ready to give up.

  Dell addressed Ferrar and Weinstein. ‘You two, where’s Schaffler? He’s supposed to be downstairs covering the entrance.’

  ‘Damned if I know,’ said Weinstein.

  ‘Associates cleared out?’ asked Dell.

  ‘Every single one. Gerry Sinton is in the office next door. Agent Patton led the raid. He made the arrest. Apart from that, the whole building is clear,’ said Weinstein.

  ‘Good. We’ll need Sinton.’

  Weinstein buzzed Agent Patton on the radio, told him to bring Gerry Sinton to the conference room.

  Dell dragged David forward by his handcuffs and pushed him into a chair at the end of the slate conference table. An open laptop sat on the table, and Dell snatched it, placed it in front of David, and instructed Dominguez to take off the cuffs.

  ‘Find me the money,’ said Dell.

  From his jacket pocket, Dell produced a pen drive and slotted it into the laptop.

  ‘This is your program, the trace for the algo. This is your only chance. This can go easy or hard. I’m going to ask one time only – tell me where you sent the money.’

  I put my back to the window of the conference room, and for a second Kennedy’s eyes met mine. Christine pulled herself closer to me.

  ‘I didn’t take the money. It’s supposed to land in a new account in Ben Harland’s name – that was the trace result. I checked it myself. If somebody altered the final account destination, it wasn’t me. Here, let me show you. I’ll pull up the trace.’

  His fingers worked fast on the soft keys. No one spoke. The only sound I heard was Christine, her chest fluttering like a startled bird as she breathed.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ said David. Kennedy leaned over David’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s a virus,’ said David. ‘It’s eating the data. It’s burning everything – here and at the bank. I’m locked out. I can’t do a single thing,’ he said.

  �
�You put a virus through the system?’ said Dell.

  David’s mouth was open, hands wide. Shivering now, afraid. He swiveled the screen around. It was fuzzy and frozen – the images distorted.

  Pulling the drive from the laptop, David held it in front of Dell and said, ‘The virus came from this drive. It uploaded as soon as I opened it.’

  ‘Bullshit. You’ve been playing us the whole way,’ said Dell, snatching the pen drive from David. ‘This is evidence. That was your last chance. You’re done, Child.’

  David stood, anger pulling him upright.

  ‘I’ve done nothing.’

  ‘Goddamn it!’ said Dell, slamming closed the lid of the laptop. ‘Kennedy, Ferrar, Weinstein, take Ms White and Child into custody. Charge them both. The full spectrum of charges for White – laundering, racketeering, the whole damn cake. Book Child for grand larceny and whatever RICO charges you can think of. Either he’s hiding the money for Gerry Sinton or he’s stolen it for himself. Either way he’ll talk at the federal lockup. Take them. Eddie, you stay here. I need to know what David told you about the algo. I’m not sure you haven’t been playing a con the whole damn time. If I find out you knew something about it, you’ll be sharing a cell with your client.’

  ‘Go,’ I said to Christine. ‘I’ll find you and I’ll get you out.’

  ‘This is all wrong,’ said Kennedy. But Dell didn’t listen. Reluctantly, Kennedy, Ferrar, and Weinstein led Christine and David to the elevator, David protesting his innocence. I was thankful for Kennedy as he led Christine gently into the elevator. She lowered her head and shook it, wiping away fresh tears, unable to let anyone see her like this. I saw the muscles in Kennedy’s jaw working overtime. His gaze fixed on David. The elevator doors opened and swallowed them up.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  Dominguez left by the stairs. He was going to man the reception and secure the building. His partner adjusted his sunglasses and took up the coffeepot. Poured himself a cup, pulled up a seat at the conference table. Dell turned and punched on the glass partition of the conference room. A large man with a bald head and wearing a blue tee, whom I guessed to be Agent Patton, marched Gerry Sinton into the conference room. Cable ties around Gerry’s wrists. Agent Patton stood behind him, his hand on the back of Gerry’s neck, forcing his head down.

  ‘No one else in the building?’ said Dell.

  At the sound of Dell’s voice, Sinton’s head shot up, and his eyes met Dell’s.

  ‘Clear and secure, Mr Dell,’ said Agent Patton.

  ‘What is he doing here?’ said Sinton, looking at me. He’d lost the suit jacket. The cable ties were cutting off the circulation in his wrists. His hands were red – same color as his face.

  ‘Your former co-counsel might help me clear some of this up,’ said Dell.

  ‘Why don’t we talk in private,’ said Sinton. Dell shook his head.

  ‘Not until we work this out. Eddie, Sinton says he doesn’t have the money. He was waiting for it to hit his partner’s account. He killed his partner because he knew the money would end up in an account in Harland’s name. Under their partnership agreement, in the event of a partner going missing, the other partner has power of attorney to manage their financial and partnership affairs. I figure Gerry here was going to lift the entire pot of eight billion and make it look like Ben Harland took it and disappeared in his yacht. But Gerry didn’t account for Ben’s body washing up yesterday. That gave him a problem. The money had to move again, into a different account that couldn’t be traced to him. So either Child took the money or Sinton did. Or maybe they’re working together. Either way, we’re going to stay here until somebody tells me where it went.’

  Sinton sure was smart. He could kill his partner, frame him for the whole enterprise, and walk away with the money. Had he changed his plans when Harland’s body was found? The way David had talked about the algo, I’d gotten the impression that it couldn’t be altered, but that all depended on whether David was telling me the truth.

  Patton delivered a savage kick to the back of Sinton’s legs, dropping him to his knees.

  The treasury agent wearing the sunglasses suppressed a laugh and said, ‘You heard Mr Dell; start talking.’

  ‘Let’s talk alone,’ said Sinton, his eyes pleading with Dell. Agent Patton kicked Sinton again.

  My cell rang. Kennedy.

  ‘Hold on, Dell. Let me take this.’ I accepted the call. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Eddie, it’s Kennedy. Listen to me very carefully. David and Christine are safe. You are not. Whatever you do in the next five seconds, do not react to what I’m about to tell you.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  ‘I’m listening, Cooch,’ I said.

  ‘Good,’ said Kennedy.

  My heart was banging. My eyes closed. Deep breath.

  Dell shook his head. He couldn’t believe I had the audacity to take a call and interrupt him. ‘Can you believe this guy?’ said Dell, throwing a hand at me.

  ‘I just got a call from the associate director of the FBI. I’d asked for intel on Sarah Callan, the woman who posed as Clara Reece. It just came back at the highest level. Sarah Callan was an alias for Sophie Blanc – a CIA operative. She’s listed as KIA last year in Grand Cayman, following an armed assault on her convoy, which was targeting a witness in an ongoing investigation.’

  ‘Cooch, you know what that means?’ I said.

  ‘Patton, was Sinton carrying a weapon?’ said Dell.

  Patton pulled a Glock from his waistband and gave it to Dell. The treasury agent in the aviators slugged back the coffee.

  ‘Dead women don’t go to lectures on GSR. Dell lied to us. Sophie and Dell have set this whole thing up together. They’re going to steal the money and frame David for murder and the theft of the eight billon.’

  All I could do was bite my lip. Dell and his girl framed David for murder. They wanted him to take the plea so he would be sent to jail to die. And he would surely die, because they’d framed him not only for murder, but for the theft of the money itself. It was brilliant.

  Dell checked the weapon Patton gave to him. Popped the magazine, slotted it back in.

  ‘What does the DA have on this guy?’ I said.

  ‘We don’t have much yet. But we’ve got enough to arrest. We’re coming up. Full tactical assault. Hold on for two minutes.’

  ‘Call me when you hear back from the DA,’ I said. I put the phone down on the table.

  Dell widened his stance, turned, and casually shot Agent Patton in the face. The treasury man dropped his coffee and swung his feet off the desk, and Dell put a bullet through his aviators. Dell lowered the gun, pointed it at Sinton. I was on the opposite side of the table, and as far as he was concerned, I was unarmed and no threat.

  I had two choices. I could clap my hands. Or I could make a move myself. The situation was too complex to rely on anyone else.

  I ducked, and in half a second Dell’s backup piece was in my hand, the barrel pointing over the table at Dell’s head. The piece was still warm from sitting at my back all day.

  ‘Don’t move,’ I said. I had the drop on Dell.

  My hands were shaking, my back soaked in sweat. The sight on the Ruger’s slide quivered in my grip as I tried to hold it firm, and I saw something on the weapon. Or rather, I didn’t see something. There was no serial number on Dell’s Ruger. Same as the murder weapon. The only place you can get a gun without a serial number is if you tell the manufacturer that’s the way you want it. The United States government could do that, if they didn’t want weapons traced back to them. The kind of weapons used in CIA Black Ops.

  Dell looked at the gun in my hand.

  ‘That’s my piece. I want it back.’

  Nobody moved.

  ‘Dell, you double-crossing son of a bitch,’ said Sinton.

  The CIA man silenced Sinton with a punch to the face.

  ‘Hands in the air, Dell,’ I said. He stepped back, kept the piece pointed at Sinton, and turned slowly to fac
e me.

  ‘You ever shot someone before, Eddie? It’s not as easy as it looks. You don’t have to kill anyone and you can walk out of here, you know. There’s always a deal to be made, right? But I need to understand how much you know. And how much it would cost for you to keep quiet. I’m going to put two rounds in Gerry’s head. You see, Gerry Sinton just killed two treasury agents. Then I’m going to leave here and meet a special friend. And that friend can send you fifty million dollars. You’ll have it by tomorrow. That same friend is gonna spread traces of the money over Gerry’s accounts – seventy or eighty million, say. And the same for David Child, you, me, and your wife. We’ll be clear and rich. So tell me, how much do you know, and is it worth fifty million?’

  ‘No …’ said Sinton.

  I kept my eyes on Dell’s hands as I spoke. I needed time. Kennedy was on his way.

  ‘It’s worth a damn sight more than fifty, Dell. You told me Grand Cayman was the Panama Canal of dirty money. My guess is you knew every operation going and you made a lot of money skimming off the top. But that kind of business is risky. You said so yourself. The fewer people involved, the better. I think Sinton got the idea of using technology to move the cash, and he laid you off along with the other money mules. You didn’t like that. I think Bernard Langhiemer is in the CIA’s pocket – your pocket. I think he’s your special friend. You got him to frame Farooq so you could lean on him and get whatever information you needed to pretend to go after the firm. Farooq told you about the algo, the piece of tech that replaced you, so you wanted your revenge on David as much as the firm.’

  Dell nodded, smirked.

  ‘Sarah, or Sophie, or whoever she is, created Clara Reece to get close to David. She faked Clara’s death, murdering some other poor girl and wiping out her face so the cops couldn’t ID the body. Then Clara hid in the panic room until it was clear and walked out of the apartment in a hazmat suit. Langhiemer helped you frame David by setting up the car crash. You used me, you used Christine, and you used David. His arrest put the firm into meltdown and caused them to trigger the algo. They didn’t want David talking to the FBI. You needed the firm to panic and hit the wash button so you could be waiting to grab the whole pile when it landed, framing David for the robbery of eight billion dollars.