Buying Time (23 page)

“About what?”

“Like I said, I think it would be best if we spoke in private. Why don’t we go to your office?”

Waverly hesitated, then led the way back to his office.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, as soon as they were seated. He did not like the way the fair-haired prick in the fancy suit was boldly inspecting his office.

“We’re conducting an investigation into a complaint about a viatical settlement agreement you brokered,” Angela began. “The client was Claire Erickson.”

Waverly began to fidget with a paper clip, but dropped it when Zack seemed to take notice.

“A complaint? About what?” Waverly wanted a drink, but now was not the time to pull his flask from his desk drawer.

“We think Ms. Erickson’s death may have been premature,” she continued.

Waverly chuckled. “I don’t mean to sound crass, but all of my clients’ deaths are premature. Claire Erickson had pancreatic cancer and a life expectancy of less than six months. That’s the only reason I was able to sell her policy.”

“You’ve brokered fifty-three policies in just a few months. More than half of those clients are already dead.”

That number surprised him. He didn’t keep a running count of his clients who died. “You seem to be missing the point,” Waverly said. “That’s pretty much the way it’s supposed to work.”

“But they died much sooner than their estimated life expectancy and way too many died as a result of accidents,” Angela said.

Waverly tried not to squirm in his chair. “No one can predict life expectancy with any certainty,” he replied. “And you could walk out of my office right now and get hit by a bus. Accidents happen.”

“Is that something you and your investors can arrange?” Zack asked.

The hard-charging woman prosecutor was bad enough, but Waverly definitely didn’t like her little sidekick. “Hold on a minute.” He rocked back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re accusing me of knocking off my clients. Do I need an attorney?”

“You tell us,” Zack said.

“No,” Waverly snapped, “
you
tell
me
. Are you here because you think I had something to do with Mrs. Erickson’s death?”

Zack made a teepee with his fingers. “That’s one possibility we’re looking into.”

Waverly felt his armpits dampen. At least they weren’t asking about Jerry Billington. After Rico’s call demanding his money, he had searched the Internet for word of Billington’s death. When he found none, he feared Rico may have been responsible for killing him. How else would he have known about the accident? But Rico had no connection to Claire Erickson. Waverly had brokered her policy before Rico came on the scene.

Waverly calmly stood up. “This meeting is over. You apparently haven’t done your homework. I’d have absolutely no motive for killing my clients. My fee comes off the top. It doesn’t matter to me if they die tomorrow or a year from now. I don’t make a dime more or a dime less.”

Zack and Angela remained seated. “Maybe it enhances your clout with your investors when you can produce a faster return on their investment,” Zack charged.

“This is crazy. You can’t come in here and accuse me of something like this. Like I said, this meeting is over.”

Angela finally rose. “Would you be willing to turn over your records to assist in our investigation?”

“There’s nothing in my records that would either prove or disprove your ludicrous allegations. But no, you can’t go through my records. Not without a search warrant. My files contain confidential medical information and my clients value their privacy.”

“Can you tell us who purchased Mrs. Erickson’s policy?” Angela asked.

“No, I can’t.” Waverly wanted them out of his office. “Am I officially under investigation?”

“No,” Zack said. He’d still made no move to get up. “Not officially. We have one other client to ask you about. Jerry Billington.”

Waverly audibly gulped.

“We understand that he died the same day he picked up his check from your office,” Zack continued.

“Mr. Billington died in a car accident when his car went off a rain slicked street,” Waverly replied. “Like I said, accidents happen every day.”

“Just seems a little strange, if you ask me. He picks up his check and a few hours later he’s dead.” Zack finally stood up. “I wonder how that will play to a jury?”

Angela placed a hand on the doorknob. “We’ve instructed his insurance company to freeze the payout on the policy until we’ve completed our investigation.”

“And that could be some time,” Zack added.

Waverly felt his lungs expand. “Exactly how much time is
some time
?”

“Several months,” said Angela.

“Maybe even years.” Zack pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and placed it on Waverly’s desk. “Oh, by the way, here’s an order freezing your bank accounts.”

“My bank accounts! Why?”

“We suspect that they contain funds which are the proceeds of an illegal operation,” Zack explained.

“It appears as if you two came here for the sole purpose of trying to intimidate me,” Waverly charged. “Well, it’s not going to work.”

“No, Mr. Sloan, we just wanted to make you aware of our investigation.”

“What you’re doing isn’t fair to me or my investors,” Waverly said. “If there’s going to be a problem with Mr. Billington’s policy, we can just cancel the viatical settlement and have his estate return the money.”

“Sorry, but it doesn’t work like that,” Angela replied.

Rico would kill him for sure. Waverly had promised him a payment in two weeks, simply to stop his increasing threats. “I gave Billington one hundred and fifty grand.”

“If our investigation determines that your business is on the up and up, your investor will get what he’s owed.”

Waverly could not hide his alarm. “This is blackmail. You can’t keep the money
and
block the payout!”

Angela finally pulled the door open. “I’m afraid we can.”

I
f nothing else, Waverly was certainly a creature of habit. When a problem cropped up that he couldn’t resolve, he resorted to his typical M.O. He ignored it.

Two days after the visit from the two assistant U.S. attorneys, Waverly surprised Deidra with a trip to Maui. While Deidra shopped, he snorkeled and overdosed on shrimp, lobster and booze. During the eight days they were there, Waverly pretended as if his problems didn’t exist. He even turned off his BlackBerry and didn’t check his messages the entire trip.

It was just after six on Monday morning and Waverly sat on the veranda of his fabulous home, gazing out at the ocean, sipping coffee brewed by an expensive contraption set on a timer. It was finally time for Waverly to face his reality. Their last night in Maui, he dreamed that the two federal prosecutors showed up at LAX and carted him off to jail, while Deidra screamed expletives at him.

Waverly tried to apply logic to his situation. If his clients really were being murdered, there was no way he could be linked to their deaths because he hadn’t killed anyone. In just a matter of months in the viatical business, he’d made over five hundred thousand dollars in commissions. Was the gravy train about to end?

Although the U.S. Attorney’s Office had frozen his bank accounts, Waverly still had access to a large amount of cash. He had close to fifty thousand dollars hidden around the house, and almost as much stashed in safe-deposit boxes at three different banks under a different name. He could survive for several months, but only if they significantly downsized.

Waverly walked back inside and watched a few minutes of the local news on the small flat screen in the kitchen. He was relieved when he didn’t see a story about the deaths of Claire Erickson or Jerry Billington. What did surprise him was the announcement that Lawrence Erickson had been confirmed as Attorney General of the United States.
What the hell?
The White House obviously didn’t know those two prosecutors were looking into Claire Erickson’s death.

Once the news finally registered, he began to view Erickson’s appointment as a positive. The new Justice Department chief could not afford to be linked to a scandal like this. He was now one of the most powerful lawyers in the country and the boss of those two arrogant AUSAs. Erickson would squelch their investigation the second he got wind of it. He would have to if he wanted to keep his job.

Feeling hopeful for the first time in days, he headed for the front door to retrieve the morning paper. The minute he bent down to pick it up, the
L.A.
Times’
headline blared out at him.

Disbarred Attorney Gets Rich Off The Dying.

Waverly stood there on the porch in his half-open, cashmere robe gazing at the newspaper in disbelief, his own smiling face staring back at him.
That bitch!
Jill Kerr had screwed him royally.

The article wasn’t about the viatical business or about Live Now. The story was all about him. It went into extensive detail about the facts that led to his disbarment. The reporter basically painted him as a greedy, unethical crook. Why was everybody persecuting him for a legitimate business that actually helped people?

The paragraph stating that a number of his clients had died accidentally, shortly after selling their policies, upset him the most. While the reporter didn’t say so, she insinuated that there may have been something suspicious about the circumstances of their deaths. She might as well have said
he
had murdered them.

Waverly walked back inside, shuddering with rage. He marched over to the telephone to call
The
Times
. This was defamation and he was going to sue. Then he froze. Deidra would see this story. She would know he’d been disbarred.

Deidra sauntered up behind him. Waverly flinched.

“You okay?” she asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

He quickly tucked the newspaper underneath his arm. He leaned down to kiss her, glad to have a wife who never bothered with things like current affairs, politics or newspapers.

“I think I’d like some breakfast this morning. How about pancakes?” He needed to keep her busy.

“You got it,” Deidra said. Until the excitement from their trip wore off, she’d do anything he asked. He’d let her spend so much money in Maui that she even treated him to a blowjob the night before they left. Maybe he should send her off shopping right now.

His in-laws!
Leon Barrett would see the newspaper and would be calling any minute. Waverly rushed into the bedroom and took the phone off the hook. He found Deidra’s cell phone on the nightstand, turned it off and slid it underneath the bed.

Walking back into the kitchen, Waverly pretended to be reading a message on his BlackBerry. “I can’t believe I forgot about a meeting I have this morning. Never mind about making me those pancakes.”

Ignoring Deidra’s protests, he headed for the bedroom. He had to get out of the house right away. If Leon Barrett couldn’t reach Deidra by phone to deliver the news, he’d drive over.

Waverly knew he was taking the cowardly way out, but he couldn’t face his wife. Not now.

A
ngela was reading
The Times
article about Waverly Sloan when Zack walked into her office.

“Why do you look like the unhappiest guy on earth?” Angela asked.

“Because I am,” Zack replied. “Guess you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“You should check your email more often. Operation Buying Time is about to be no more.”

“What?” Angela turned to her computer, but Zack placed a piece of paper on her desk.

“I printed out a copy for you. Read it and weep.” The email was from Roland Becker, the new Deputy U.S. Attorney General.

Angela quickly read it.

“He’s shutting down several task forces nationwide,” Zack said. “And ours is one of them.”

“What? Erickson just got confirmed and this is his first priority? Why is he doing this?”

“Supposedly, lack of funding.”

Angela’s eyes met Zack’s. “This is crap. That
L.A. Times
article about Waverly Sloan proves that we’re on the right track, but somebody wants us off his trail. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m way ahead of you,” Zack said. “I did some checking. Becker and Erickson were both partners at Jankowski, Parkins. Some people say they’re closer than brothers. I think they know we’re about to link Erickson to his wife’s death and they can’t let that happen. It would look strange if they only pulled the plug on our investigation. Becker is shutting down several others to make it look legit.”

Angela read the email again. “Maybe we’re reading too much into this. This email says it’s only a temporary shutdown until Becker can conduct a review.”

“I don’t buy it,” Zack said. “You’ll note that the three other viatical investigations aren’t on the list. What do you want to bet ours will be the only one getting the ax?”

The phone on Angela’s desk rang. Zack waited as Angela took the call.

“Barnes wants to see both of us,” Angela said, standing up and slipping into her jacket. “Right now.” Todd Barnes was Chief of the Major Frauds Section.

“What does he want?”

“He didn’t say. But it sounds urgent.”

Angela followed Zack out of the door and down the hall to Barnes’ office.

“Close the door,” Barnes ordered, when they stepped inside, “and have a seat.”

Barnes was overweight and wore wire-rimmed glasses and wrinkled plaid shirts. It always seemed as if his mind was someplace else. “I need you to prepare a memo summarizing the status of Operation Buying Time. I’m sure you saw that email from our new deputy AG. He’s in town and wants to meet the two of you.”

Angela and Zack traded glances. They’d never met with Justice Department brass at Becker’s level before.

“When?” Angela asked. “And why?”

“Three o’clock in the twelfth floor conference room,” Barnes said. “And he didn’t tell me why. Make sure your memo really pumps up your operation. He’ll probably use it as a basis for deciding whether to shut it down permanently.”