ColdScheme (23 page)

“Whose?”

“Ours.”

“Come next year, I’ll still be driving around, looking for
it.”

He laughed. “Courtney came up with a new angle—corporate
limo services, in-house. It would be worthwhile to check those too. There might
be a company in Washington that has recently hired a new provider for this
perk.”

I didn’t think Creeslow would have gone the corporate route.
It would have meant giving up their independent status. Corporations, or any
other company, would insist on following rules—their own. It was not what
Creeslow would want. Amalgamating with one of the existing services would hide
them but at the same time leave them as a quasi-independent partner.

“Very well. We’ll look into that possibility,” I agreed
without enthusiasm.

“I’ll be there around five,” he said. I acknowledged his
comment and snapped the cover of the cell phone shut.

Chapter Thirteen

Every company in Washington with more than three hundred
employees appeared to have an in-house limo service. If this were true, there
couldn’t be any open parking spaces in Washington, since a limo would
necessarily take up at least three regular spaces.

“Something else, something else, some other service,” I kept
mumbling, shaking my head over the long list of Washington companies that Agent
Gould had managed to compile.

“None of the eleven armored car services are newly
established businesses,” Field told me. “None have amalgamated with any other
car service or taken on new partners.”

“It’ll come to me,” I told him peevishly.

“When it does, we’ll go after the product of that
brainstorm. Until then, we’ll check out the in-house limo services.”

“You’re not in charge of this investigation,” I flared.

“Yes I am,” he returned pleasantly but with a great deal of
inflexibility.

“It’s homicide. It’s Baltimore and it’s our turf.”

“It’s an issue of national security as reflected in
destabilizing our banking system. That’s FBI’s jurisdiction.”

“Then go sit in the boardroom, watch the clouds and
stabilize the banking system. We’ll do the work on the ground level, where the
bodies were found.”

“I met with Commissioner Walton today. He leans toward
passing this investigation exclusively to the FBI, no police involvement, local
or otherwise.”

“Fine.” I picked up Patricia’s file and flapped it down in
front of him, on the floor. “Here’s my endorsement of that sentiment. Have
fun.” I rose like a spring and would have marched out of my living room if not
for Ken’s hand that fastened around my ankle. He sat on the floor and wisely
didn’t lift his head to participate in the conflict but obviously he didn’t
want me to leave it on a cliffhanger.

“Meg, sit down,” Ken murmured.

“We have a ton of cold cases to work on, back in our
office,” I told him. “It’s time to clean up my living room.”

“I told the Commissioner that removing police staff from the
investigation would not be a good idea,” Field said.

“Then call him back and tell him you’ve changed your mind,”
I said, unyielding. I glared down at Ken, telling him to let go of my foot.

“We would have to bring the Federal Marshall’s staff into it
because we don’t have the field staff to spare,” Field observed in a musing
voice.

“Fine. Bring in the Marshall. You have five minutes to clear
out of my house.”

“I’m talking to you as a colleague, Meg. Calm down.”

“I’m talking to you as a citizen, Inspector. As a colleague,
I would have drawn my gun. That’s the way most government officials who are not
welcome in my house, end up leaving.” I knew I sounded not just stressed-out
but harsh, however I’d spent ten years being rational and calm, hiding from
emotions. Now that my protective walls had all but collapsed, I found I didn’t
have the necessary coping skills to juggle my work and my personal life.

“What would you like me to assign to Agent Gould?” Field
asked, lifting his head. His expression had changed. The look on his face was
hard and impersonal. It was as if he was living for me the example of what I
should learn to do. He was looking at me as a colleague, not as a woman.

As a colleague, I didn’t have an answer. As a woman, I
couldn’t give it.

“It’s not my place to make suggestions. As you pointed out,
you’re in charge, you’re her boss.” Ken had finally let go of my foot and I
walked out of the room.

“Meg, dammit! Come back!” Field’s frustrated voice vibrated
after me. “What is it you don’t like about checking out the corporate limo
services?”

I didn’t care so much about the corporate limo services. I
didn’t like Agent Gould but that was one issue I couldn’t air here now. I
wasn’t used to these kinds of reactions. I wasn’t used to caring, one way or
the other, period.

I walked back in and threw my hands up. “I’m done here. I
don’t know where else to go with this investigation or why.”

Ken’s forehead tightened. I knew he had never seen me like
this and would worry. “Would you like me to escort the Inspector outside?” he
asked, placing his hand on his gun.

I ignored his attempt at humor with a grimace, when suddenly
Nancy Bassiano’s voice sounded in my head, “He was very embarrassed the first
time the limo came with a built-in travel companion but he got used to it.”

I spun around, pointing at Ken, then Field. “Escort
services,” I said. “Legal and otherwise. There are plenty of those in
Washington and they all use limos—with tinted windows.” They kept looking at
me. “You said that there is a lot of human nature hiding underneath the
polished exterior or our politicians. Escort services target nothing but human
nature. That would be a perfect new operation. The kind of customers you’d want
to drive around would come to you. A Senator’s aide, a member of a House
committee, a Chief of Staff, a security advisor—you name it.”

Half an hour later, we were sitting down to dinner. Jazz was
on her best behavior and Mrs. Tavalho was tidying up, making sure Jazz’s lunch
was in the fridge and all unnecessary lights and appliances had been turned
off.

We kept the conversation light, casual, no work issues. The
phone rang. It was one of my daughter’s friends, asking for permission to come
over. For once, it suited me just fine. If Jazz were busy, she wouldn’t be
tempted to interrupt our work group. She finished her dinner and asked if she
could go on the porch, to wait for her friends.

A few moments later, she came back inside.

“Mom, I’m not listening in on your work stuff, you know, but
your voice is loud and I heard you talking about limos.”

We looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

“You’re into limos, right?” She thrust her head forward,
prompting me to acknowledge.

“Right,” I said, lifting my hand to indicate that this was
not a desirable topic.

“Well, you’ve got one sitting in our driveway right now,”
she said.

“Oh dear, it can’t be my church group yet. They’re early,” Mrs.
Tavalho exclaimed, walking for the door, shaking her head.

It wasn’t the church group.

It was an awfully bold move. One I wouldn’t have expected
from him. Then again, we had established a business tie. He could always excuse
it in those terms and I couldn’t object. He came in a black Benz limo, not as
stretched out as the one that came five minutes later, to pick up Mrs. Tavalho.

For some reason my stomach tightened when the second limo
arrived, white with three sets of doors and tinted windows.

“Where did your church group get the limo?” I asked Mrs.
Tavalho.

She laughed. “We shopped around, we had a budget but we
found a reasonable rate. Arrowmain Limousine Service is just around the corner
from our church.”

“Ah! Herman.” I reeled back to Endless Tours and the
spelling-bee winner. Mrs. Tavalho gave me a strange look. I shook my head and
told her to have a good time. I watched her burrow her way into what looked
like a crowded bus.

I introduced my daughter to her grandfather, omitting the
crucial blood-tie detail and once again felt as if someone who wrote for the
Twilight Zone
was scripting my lines. We went inside.

“I’ve been in touch with a few key people in the State
Department,” he said, when he availed himself of my hospitality and found a
place to sit in my living room that wasn’t cluttered with work. “I’ve spoken
with your boss,” he nodded at Field. “He agreed that we must proceed with
utmost care. The last thing we want is to alarm Blank. We don’t want him to
destroy the evidence and who knows what else in the process of covering up his
tracks. It probably won’t be possible to trace his ties and pipelines, though
it would be logical to assume they come from Latin American countries, quite a
few of them, if his connections are taken into account. Here is a list of more
than three hundred accounts that have been opened at various Tavistock banks
and subsidiaries in the last eighteen months. Almost all are corporate accounts
and difficult to trace to the actual beneficiary. I’ve spoken with the Justice
Department and Conroy Marsh in the Federal Treasury. We’re moving to freeze the
assets in these accounts. This is your copy,” he said, handing a sheet of paper
to Field. “Maybe a name or two on that list will ring a bell. Some might prove
to be bona fide corporate assets. In that case, we’ll apologize and offer them
a better rate of return for the inconvenience but I think the majority are
laundering operations.”

“It might not have been such a good idea to freeze those
assets just yet,” I spoke up.

He gave me a heavy nod, in agreement. “Perhaps not but we’re
in the electronic age. Those funds can disappear, literally in seconds when
transfer codes are entered. We don’t have anything in place that would refuse
such transactions simply because it would have to be a laterally applied
measure. Meaning, it would affect all bona fide accounts. It’s being done as we
speak. I’m sure there are more than these,” he said, motioning at the list.
“This is just what the banks were able to eyeball, so to speak, when I asked to
run a quick check.”

“They’ll find out quickly those assets have been frozen,” I
said.

“Of course. If Bishop Blank is a part of this, they probably
already know.”

“You might have forced their hand.”

“Perhaps. But I gave orders to release sensitive information
into unsecured channels. I’m retaliating for what happened at the penthouse.”

“Playing a hardball with these guys is dangerous.” I pointed
out what he must have already known. But what he did was understandable under
the circumstances. Blank would know his reputation as someone who would not
back down. What he was doing was very much in character and perhaps even
expected. Still I feared we’d feel the consequences of it soon enough—maybe
even in the next twenty-four hours.

“It would be expected of me,” he said, confirming my
assumption.

“Blank would anticipate it and you don’t want to give him
any reason for thinking otherwise.”

“Blank knows that I’ve halted the project. That’s as far as
he meant to push me. He would also know that once I’ve given orders to halt
work on the system, I would retaliate in some other way.”

“An old trusted friend who knows you well,” I sighed.

“Now and then, you have to trust someone, no matter what
line of business you’re in. Otherwise, you’re not going to survive.”

“So you don’t worry about any fallout as a result of
freezing those accounts?” I tested.

He sighed this time. “There’s more than two billion dollars
frozen in those accounts. It would be too idealistic to expect that there won’t
be something—a counterstrike of sorts.”

I was about to ask him to speculate what the backlash might
be when my cell phone chimed—and so did Ken’s and Field’s.

We looked at each other before answering. It was just as
well. As I listened to Olsen’s breathless voice, my concentration swam out of
focus.

* * * * *

“Jazz sweetie, Jenny and Melissa have to go home. I have to
take you next door to Mrs. Devon’s.” I felt guilty having to throw out my
daughter’s friends but I had no choice.

“Aw, Mom,” she moaned but went to pick up her school bag since
I would probably not make it home before morning.

“Let them stay,” a voice said behind me. “I’m not doing
anything tonight. I’ll stay here and babysit, all night if need be.”

I must have stared at him as if he was an apparition because
my father shook his head, laughing. “I won’t kidnap her, if that’s what you’re
worried about. She’ll be all right. I’ll test my constitution with three
ten-year-olds. Who knows, I might even live to see the morning.”

“Coming?” Ken stuck his head in the front door, shouting.

I opened my mouth, worked it and closed it when nothing came
out.

“Go.” He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, then
turned to Jazz. “I’m your mother’s friend, an old friend from work. She has to
go, duty calls but I’m willing to stay here and look after you. It means your
friends can stay until their parents come to get them. What do you think?”

“An old friend?” Jazz asked. I saw the look on her face and
didn’t like what she was thinking.

“Very old,” he confirmed, mouth puckering in a whimsical
smile.

“That’s your limo out there?”

“Sure is. If you promise not to break any of the gadgets
inside, I’ll let you and your friends play in the back. Go, for heaven’s sake.”
He waved at me. “I have five briefcases in the car and two laptops. I’ll work
on your kitchen table. I won’t tie up your phone. You can call in any time to
check on things.”

“All right.” I found my voice though it creaked. “Thanks.” I
managed what I hoped was a smile and rushed outside.

* * * * *

We wouldn’t be able to identify the victim for days, unless
someone reported him missing.

“Pieces,” Ken murmured and flinched when he lifted the
plastic sheet. Field took a longer look, then moved aside. I stepped up.

“It’s the next phase,” Ken murmured again. I knew what he
meant.

Kingsley and Dale was a major downtown intersection. The
northwest corner had been roped off but there were not enough police to
disperse the crowd that had gathered behind the yellow barricades. They had to
use a bullhorn to warn people to stay away. The cleanup squad was still busy,
collecting remnants. I saw firemen, ready with a hose. The sidewalk looked like
a butcher’s block.

“Christopher Palk, age sixty-four.” I heard Olsen’s voice
and turned. He motioned at the gurney. The paramedics had attached side
supports so the remains would not scatter when they moved it.

“How did you find out so quickly?” I asked.

He motioned at one of the ambulances. “Alvin Murphy, his
friend is in there. They’re treating him for shock. They were heading for the
park and decided to use a cash machine first. Murphy forgot his PIN and went to
use the public phone further down the street. He was talking to his daughter,
looking this way, when it happened.”