Deal Gone Bad - A Thriller (Frank Morrison Thriller Series Book 1) (25 page)

Morrison knew this guy,
though not as a friend. He wasn’t sure they’d ever talked to each other. But he
definitely knew who that guy was. A prominent, respected member of Acton’s
community. A businessman of stellar success. And a goalie in the local garage
hockey league. Some of Morrison’s friends had played against him. A very decent
goalie, they’d said. You didn’t beat him with a floppy shot.

Up to that moment, that’s
all Morrison thought there was to the guy. He shook his head. How wrong he had
been.

“Now look at them,” Cowgirl
said. “Aren’t they two sweet little lovebirds?” She turned to Morrison and jerked
her thumb at the guy. “Isn’t he supposed to be married?”

Obviously, she also knew
who he was. If you lived in Acton, you had to.

“Yeah. He even has a kid
or two with his wife, if I remember well,” he said.

“What does that tell you?”

“That I have to talk with
Harris,” he responded. “Like immediately.”

Cowgirl frowned. “How
come?” she asked. “What does Harris have to do with him?”

Morrison ignored her
question. He was already punching Harris’s number on his prepaid.

“How are things coming
along on Sanford?” he asked when the wily old fox picked up.

“Good. I still had a few
calls to make before I wanted to speak with you, but I’ve learned a lot about
her,” Harris said.

“Let me guess. She’s got
money, right? Like a big pile of her own money. Probably some family thing.”

“That’s right, Morrison,”
Harris said. “Her father owned a string of local hardware stores in Ohio,
Indiana and Illinois. Sold everything to a big box chain ten years ago. She
never talks about it. She wants to be her own woman, you know. The family’s now
worth like a hundred million or somethin’. She’s got plenty of money, that’s
for sure.”

And she didn’t need to
steal anybody’s. Certainly not their own. How wrong he had been. Morrison kept
staring at Sheriff Sanford and her lover. The respected citizen. The cheating
husband. He just didn’t know about
him
, that’s why he’d thought Sanford
had used the information on his USB key to pocket the eight million dollars. But
now that he saw her still locked in an embrace with
him
, everything made
perfect sense.

“How’d you guess that?”
Harris asked.

Morrison shrugged. “The same
way I just figured out where you sourced the equipment last time.”

“I’m not sure I’m
following you.”

Harris’s task in their
failed operation had been to source the electronic equipment they’d needed to
fabricate and encode fake debit cards—magnetic strips, card readers and a whole
bunch of other stuff. Harris was the go-to guy for this. And as for any other
portion of the operation, he was expected to deliver the goods no questions
asked. Wherever he got them was nobody’s business as long as he delivered. And
delivered he did. In all their dealings, Harris had always been diligent and
true to his word.

“Sheriff Sanford,”
Morrison said. “She’s having an affair with your supplier.”

“No way,” Harris said.

“They’re right in my face.
They’ve been kissing nonstop for five minutes. Must be blue in the face, the
both of them.”

“Wait a minute,” Harris
said, a reckoning suddenly all over his voice. “Are you telling me that you
think they might’ve been together three years ago?”

Smart man, that Harris.
“Yep, that’s exactly what
I’m saying.”

“You … you think he used
her to get to our money?”

“Unwittingly of course.
Now, I’m sure that she didn’t know a thing about that.”

“Son of a bitch,” Harris
said. “Goddamn son of a bitch.”

Morrison immediately began
a three-way discussion with Harris and Cowgirl on how they should now deal with
the situation. This discovery changed everything. They were no longer facing a
rogue law officer who had snatched their money in a vicious maneuver, and from whom
it could be difficult to recover some, if any, of their money. No, now they faced
an altogether different beast. A sharp and astute man—that much they knew from his
official pedigree—but one who was also street-smart, as they’d just discovered.
And, even better, with ample means to pay them back.

For their target now was
one Steve Perkins.

Founder and current CEO of
Perkins Electronics.

By far Acton’s most
successful businessman.

Or so it seemed.

Sanford and Perkins talked
for a few more minutes, then they hugged, kissed again and went their separate
ways. Sanford to her big but lonely country house and Perkins to his loving wife
and kids.

After they allowed enough
time for both of them to disappear, Morrison and Cowgirl drove back to her place.
Opened a bottle of wine in the kitchen and fixed themselves a good late meal.
After a long day in the van, they needed to unwind.

Morrison was in a great
mood, as was Cowgirl. They continued to discuss their case while they drank and
ate. This development opened up a great window. If they played their cards
well, this could lead to a very satisfying conclusion.

Over a bowl of pasta, they
dived into the minutiae of what the next move called for. Ideas rushed up in
their heads. Scenarios began to take shape.

So much so that around
midnight, Morrison had a pretty clear view of what the next day would be like.

Cowgirl drained the
remainder of her glass. Her second or third, he thought. She had that lovely
look. Slightly tipsy. Rosy cheeks. “OK, enough talk for tonight, Morrison,” she
said. “Let’s go up to the bedroom. Right now.”

He smiled. “You’ve had
great ideas all night,” he said. “But this is probably your finest.”

She began to undress in
the stairway. He followed closely. Didn’t bother picking up her blouse and bra
as they fell on the steps. She unbuttoned her jeans with one hand. Paused in
the bedroom doorway for a nanosecond to shed them. Then she literally jumped into
the bed, sending pillows flying all around. For his part, he still had all his
clothes on.

“What’s the matter,
Morrison,” she said playfully as she dropped her panties to the floor. “You’re not
into this?”

He cracked a thin smile. Lay
still as he watched her. She was stunning. Wholesome. Beautiful. Alive. He walked
up and leaned over the bed. “Now, now, let me show you how wrong you are,” he
said.

*

Monday morning. The night
had been fabulous, but now Morrison was all business. As was Cowgirl. At his request,
she placed an early phone call to Perkins Electronics.

Steve Perkins was expected
to be there all day, but she couldn’t get an appointment with him. His schedule
was full. Couldn’t even be booked before the following week, actually.

“What do you want me to
do?” she asked with one hand over the mouthpiece.

He shook his head. “It’s
all right, let it go,” he said.

She hung up. “What are you
gonna do?”

He smiled. “I’m gonna finish
preparing for my meeting with Steve Perkins,” he said. He spread his arms. “How
do I look?”

He had put on the closest thing
he had to business casual clothes.

“You look great,” she
said, “but how are you going to meet him?”

He shrugged. “It’s all right,
I’m gonna figure something out.”

When he wanted to meet
someone, Morrison always managed to. Wasn’t that hard to do. What really mattered
was to meet Perkins on his own turf. The easiest way would have been to
intercept him before or after work. But the most effective way would definitely
be to confront him at his workplace, out in the open. This would help to crank
up the pressure that much.

After a good breakfast, he
kissed Cowgirl goodbye and jumped into his big black Navigator.

Seconds into his drive to
the Perkins compound, he had an idea. He punched Perkins Electronics’ number on
his prepaid and asked for the boss’s secretary.

“Sheriff Sanford’s
office,” he said when he was transferred. “I need to speak with Mr. Perkins.
This is urgent.”

Impeccable delivery.
Unshakable confidence. Bland matter-of-factness. Perkins’s secretary could not
not buy it.

“One moment,” she said in
a hurried tone. “I’ll put you through.”

Seconds later, Perkins
himself was on the phone.

“Hi, this is Frank
Morrison,” he said. “We don’t know each other very well, but you know one of my
associates better, Roger Harris. Three years ago he bought some equipment from
you, and now it turns out that it has created some problem for us. I’d like to
discuss this with you in person. At your office.”

There was a pause at the
other end. Morrison let the information sink in. Then Perkins said, “Frank
Morrison, you said?”

“That’s right. I would’ve
come to you earlier but I really could not. If you know what I mean.”

Another pause. Of course,
Perkins knew who Morrison was. It was his arrest that had prompted the
businessman to commit his deed.

“I’m pretty busy right now,
perhaps—” Perkins began.

Morrison cut him off.
“You’ll find the time,” he said. “Besides, if I can’t meet you at your office,
I might pick another place that’s less discreet. It’s up to you.”

“Right,” Perkins said.
“Right.”

The businessman was stuck.
Morrison smiled to himself. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said. “In the
meantime, have some coffee prepared. I like mine with a bit of half-and-half.
No sugar, please.”

There was another small
pause.

Then Perkins sighed and said,
“OK, I’m waiting for you.”

*

The secretary ushered
Morrison in as soon as he arrived.

The office was spacious
and airy. All glass and stainless steel. Steve Perkins rose from behind his
desk to greet him. He was tall and athletic. Mid-forties but with the thick
black hair of a guy in his early twenties. The businessman had taken him at his
word. Two cups of coffee were steaming on a low table between a pair of plush
leather chairs. The secretary left and closed the door behind her. They sat
down.

“Thanks for seeing me on
such short notice,” Morrison said. “I really appreciate it.” He took a sip from
his cup. The coffee was hot but really good. A dark roast.

Perkins sat back in his chair.
Didn’t touch his coffee. He was calm and collected. All business. “You didn’t
really leave me a choice,” he said.

“Right,” Morrison said. “I
didn’t.” He looked around him. “Pretty impressive business you’ve built
yourself. You’ve done really well, especially in the last three years.”

Perkins nodded. “We’ve
never done better. Business is booming.”

Morrison tilted his head. “I
wish I could say the same. For me, the last three years have been a big
setback.”

Perkins frowned
sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. It’s very kind of
you.” He drank another sip, then he put his cup on the coffee table and sat
back. “The good news is, you can help me get back on the right track.”

Perkins frowned again. “How
so?”

“I believe that three
years ago, you made some withdrawals in my name. Now I’d like to have my money
back.”

He watched Perkins
furiously debate how he would answer this. The businessman was probably a good
poker player, but not a great one. After a lengthy pause, Perkins said, “Are
you wearing a wire?”

He smiled. “You’ve seen
too many movies.”

“You don’t mind if I
check?” Perkins asked.

“Not at all.” Morrison
rose and fished his prepaid out of his pocket. Took out the battery and dropped
the lot on the low table. Then he spread his arms and legs. “Here you go, help
yourself.”

Perkins rose and came to
him.

He began by patting both
his arms in clumsy and hesitant moves. Actually, he acted like he thought he
should be acting based on what you saw in the movies. Morrison didn’t mind. He
let him proceed at his pace.

When Perkins was finished,
both men sat back in their chairs. Perkins took a first sip of coffee. “What
makes you think I may have some of your money in my possession?” he asked.

OK, preliminaries are over,
Morrison
thought.
Time to show you know everything he did.

“That’s eight million
dollars of me and my partners’ money,” he said. “But first, I must compliment
you. To extract the encrypted data on that USB flash drive must’ve been really
hard. I went to great lengths to ensure that the list of bank accounts and
codes would stay hidden, but you are obviously very clever …”

Morrison described the
whole setup: the four banks hit in the days following his arrest. The four
hundred accounts at each of these banks. Where in New York City the withdrawals
had been made. It was a very convincing case. For a good ten minutes, he walked
Perkins, who remained silent and showed as little as he could, through all the maneuvers
the businessman had coordinated to siphon the money
he
, Morrison, should
have gotten himself if he hadn’t been arrested.

Which brought him to that
junction.

“Man, if I hadn’t seen
that personal connection you have with Sheriff Sanford, you could’ve gotten
away with it. For a while, after I cleared my associates of any wrongdoing, I
thought that she was the one who had stolen the money.”

Perkins broke his silence
and immediately became protective. “Claire has nothing to do with that,” he
said. “Leave her alone.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t worry.
But you have to put yourself in my shoes. What was I supposed to think when I
realized that she had put her hands on my USB flash drive? I didn’t have the
details of our planned hits anywhere else. So I could only conclude that she
had somehow found out about its content and decided to use it, however bizarre
that may seem now. I couldn’t know that she was having an affair with you and
that you would use that connection to put your hands on that USB flash drive.
Actually, that’s the only part that’s still fuzzy for me—how you came to look
into that USB flash drive. I’d be very curious to hear your side of the story.”

Perkins shook his head. He
didn’t have anything to hide anymore, so what the heck. “We were in deep
financial trouble at the time,” he said. “We were quite desperate, actually.”

Morrison stared around.
“So all of this, that’s only a façade?” he said.

“No, no, not now,” Perkins
said. “We’re doing really well now. That money is now irrelevant. But three
years ago, we were stretched to the hilt. We’d just had a couple of really bad
years and our credit margins were maxed out. I had to find a couple of millions,
and fast, otherwise we were going bankrupt. So when Claire arrested you, I took
notice. Your case was intriguing. Two million dollars extracted in a few hours
through a string of ATMs, I thought that was impressive. And I thought there
might be more, you know. Especially when I took into consideration Harris’s
recent order. I mean, he was clever. He ordered a lot more stuff than what he
needed for your ATM-skimming operation. But I could see that he had definitely
put his hands on some of the stuff you would’ve needed to carry on that type of
operation. And there was a lot more than what you were arrested with. So I
figured that if you had at least one associate, and a lot more equipment than
what had been seized, then you were probably planning to steal more money.”

“Well thought,” Morrison
said. “But how did you learn that I had a USB flash drive to start with?”

“With Claire, of course. I
asked her a lot of questions about you. I mean, I didn’t have to feign
curiosity. I really was curious about you. To her, that was not a big deal. She
didn’t think much of giving me some information on your case. Seemed harmless enough.”

“OK, so you learn that I
had a USB flash drive on me, what do you do then?”

“I went to see her at the
station and I managed to locate the key in the evidence room. Then I made a
copy and brought it back to the office to look into it. Finding the information
in the picture files was not that hard.” For the first time in their
conversation, Perkins smiled, briefly. “I mean, it was clever of you to hide
the data in those files, for sure, but it’s not exactly that hard to figure out
either. You’re not the first guy who’s done that. But as far as Claire’s team
was concerned, it did the job. They never saw a thing.”

“But you did, you acted on
it and here we are.”

Perkins nodded. At least
they were now both clear on the narrative. Except for one item, Morrison
thought.

“A hacker was shot dead in
his apartment two days ago. With his kid. Care to explain that?”

Perkins’s face became
somber. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“But still, you know about
it, don’t you?”

Perkins cleared his
throat. “Shortly after we finished withdrawing all the money following your
plan—which was really well mapped out by the way, great job there—I received a
phone call from the head of IT security at Candela Bank. Sent me into a mad
panic. I thought I was home free and now this guy calls me out of the blue, a
bit like you did, with all the lowdown on the money we’d stolen from his bank.
Somehow, he had managed to track me down, and he came to see me.”

“What happened then?”

“Turns out he was only interested
in the money. He bargained for his silence. So we negotiated and eventually
settled on a figure.”