Duty Bound (1995) (20 page)

"Yeah, sure. We found out who they were, but the State Attorney stopped us before we could dig deeper. Look, Tanner, I read the stuff your people sent over, and I see where you feds are goin' with this. You think the leadership had something to do with contracting the hits. I'm tellin' you right now you guys are barkin' up the wrong tree.

Sure they're engaged in some shady dealings, but as far as we could tell, none of it would even get 'em a felony conviction. Tanner, we're talkin' about unfair business practices . . . monopolizing, for Christ's sake. The most they'd get for a conviction is fined, a couple thousand dollars for each count."

"Who are they, Ed? Who is runnin' this Yona Group?"

"Big money people," Faraday said. "Big money and big political connections. All of them are from old moneyed families here in the state, your basic country club good ol' boys, except these guys aren't old. They're all under forty and got in to make easy money. Their leader is Congressman Brad Richards of the Fourth District. He's the one who came up with the idea, but he's kept himself out of the actual running of the business. What he gets in return is the others' campaign support by way of funds, people, organization, and an almost guarantee of keeping his seat in Congress. The day-to-day honcho of the group is Henry Cobb. He's the CEO, and his is a real old family; his great-grandfather was a big general in the Civil War. It's Henry who keeps the locals in line. The best we could tell, he had hired about four local boys, all ex-football-player types with lots of muscle. They're the enforcers and do the roughing up when necessary. We ID'd most of them. A few had priors, but most are just big and stupid, but the kind that can take orders and--"

"Whoa, Ed," Eli said, raising his hand. "You've lost me. I don't know what you're talking about when you say `enforcers' and keeping the locals in line. What kind of business are we talking about here?"

Ed looked at Ashley, then Eli. "I thought you feds knew all about this?"

"We don't know how the business is actually run,"

Ashley said.

Ed nodded. "Okay, let's start from the beginning. The first thing you gotta understand is that the actual conversions are mostly done by mom-and-pop companies. We're talkin' about a cottage industry with little overhead . . . at least that's the way it used to be. Let me explain. Let's say you're in the market for a full-size conversion van. Where do you go to buy one? You go to a Dodge, Ford, or Chevy dealership, that's where. Now you see one you like, but the interior colors are all wrong. You say to the salesman, 'I'd take this one if the interior was blue instead of maroon.' The salesman says, 'No problem, I can get you a van with what you want by next week. Just come in and sign the paperwork and give me a deposit.' The salesman then calls the mom-and-pop company in Toccoa, Georgia, that sold the dealership the van and says, 'I need Model 123 with blue interior by next week.' Pop says, 'No sweat.' He hangs up, goes to the bank, borrows the money, buys a basic van from the local dealer, then drives it to a relative who stocks all the conversion parts. Pop buys what he needs, then drives to his barn, where Mom and Pop and maybe their older kids start work. They cut off the metal roof and put on a new sloped Fiberglas one. They cut out panels in the van walls and put in windows. They take out the seats, lay blue carpet, install new blue captain's chairs and a blue backseat that folds down into a bed. They screw in panels that are covered with light blue material and install indirect lighting and make the van cherry in three days, then drive it to another relative who does the paint and striping work. In five days the van is finished and is driven to the car dealership, which pays the wholesale price for it, then calls you and says your van is ready to be picked up. That's the way the system worked up until about a year ago."

Ashley lifted her hand. "I don't get it. Why doesn't the Ford company make conversion vans if people want them?"

Faraday smiled. "Unions, Agent Sutton. If they converted their vans, they'd have to pay union wages for the work.

The van I just talked about would cost at least a grand more.

A union guy gets paid twenty-five bucks an hour to cut off the roof. Mom and Pop can do it for six. Plus, if you wanted a blue interior instead of maroon, Mom and Pop can deliver in a week. Ford would take months."

"Go on, Ed," Eli said. "You said that's the way it used to be."

"Yeah, now it's changed because the Yona Group figured out there was big money to be made. A group rep goes to Mom and Pop and says, 'Look, you're makin' some money but it's seasonal and isn't steady, plus others are cutting into your profit. Right now you convert thirty vans a year. You work for us and we guarantee you fifty vans a year. We sell the vans for you, so there's no lost days driving to dealers, plus when you go to our warehouse, it's a one-shop stop.

You get the van and all the accessories, and we do the painting and striping in our shop. You get everything from us and we pay you on time for your work. You still get to work your hours in your barn, and your company name goes on the van even though we sell it.'

"Mom and Pop like the idea, but there's a catch. Ya see, before, Pop made five hundred dollars profit on each van he sold, but now he'll make only three hundred and seventy, eighty-five, per van. But the deal still looks good because he's guaranteed a steady income. But let's say Mom and Pop said no deal. They like working for themselves and plan on expanding. Now this is where the group rep plays rough. He tells Pop he won't be able to get the vans or accessories because the group is buying all the stock. Pop either joins the group or doesn't work at all. Now what I just told you goes for all the other mom and pops who convert boats, pickups, and any other . small business owners who buy accessories and do the installing. In the case of the vans, the group clears about a two and half grand on every van sold to a dealer. Boats are a little less, depending on size. When you think about over seventy thousand vans being sold in the Southeast region a year, and about the same in boats, you're talking big money. Now add some other things. The group now owns the dealerships that sell the basic vans, and one of the group's big boys owns the warehouses where the accessories are kept. Add something else. The group is playing hardball with the small companies that make the accessories. They guarantee the number of products they'll buy.

If the company owners don't agree to sell only to them, their raw materials are cut off or nobody buys their products because the group has all the converters working for them.

Independents can't compete with the group because it can make a better deal with the car and boat dealers. Once the independents are gone, then the group has no real competition, raises its prices to the dealers, and makes even more of a profit."

"So much for the American way," Eli said.

Ashley canted her head. "It doesn't sound that hard to prove they're shaking down Mom and Pop."

Faraday nodded. "You'd be right if Mom and Pop were screaming foul, but most of them are satisfied with the deal.

They're making steady incomes for a change. The ones who didn't take the deal are too scared to talk. They know the group doesn't play by the rules, and they figure silence is better than having their legs broken, or worse."

"But some did talk," Ashley said. "Wentzel had witness statements."

Faraday nodded with a frown. "Yeah, and now the group knows who they are. I'll bet there's already been a rash of `accidents' up there."

Eli looked into Faraday's eyes. "And you still don't believe they put the contract out on the Goodnights?"

Ed shook his head. "Nope. These country club boys don't kill their own. Goodnight was old family. Plus, why would they? The state attorney explained to us the takeover of the small mom-and-pop operations is considered normal business practice for an expanding company . . . except the group got a little carried away is all. He wouldn't touch it because all we had was misdemeanors. The Yona Group lawyers would tie it up in court for years and would just end up settling out of court."

"That's it? The state attorney wouldn't go after them because they were only breaking the laws a little bit?" Eli asked.

"You have to understand, Tanner, the group partners are millionaires and very powerful men in this state. It appeared to us that Henry Cobb was the only one heavily involved in making the decisions of the company. The others were silent partners who let their accountants take care of the bottom lines. I doubt if the silent partners knew what was going on.

But Cobb, unlike the others, is not moneyed. His family once was, but his father lost most of the family's liquid assets during the savings-and-loan fiasco in the eighties.

The Yona Group is Cobb's chance to get back in the black.

We had Cobb pegged as a principal as well as Richards. We got the company's phone records and saw where the good congressman was in daily contact with Cobb. We were zeroing in on Cobb and Richards when the state attorney pulled the plug on us."

"Is Cobb capable of putting out the contract on Goodnight and the others?"

"Naw, Tanner, I don't buy that. He wouldn't have been worried if we had made a case against him on unfair business practices. His lawyers would have hushed it all up and settled the whole thing out of court."

Eli leaned back in his chair but kept his eyes on the detective. "Ed, did your people find anything that might suggest the Yona Group was money laundering?"

"Money laundering? Jesus, where did you get that?"

"I take it that's a no?"

"Tanner, our people were lookin' into unfair business practices . . . they weren't lookin' into money laundering.

What have you got? Are you sayin' you feds think they're involved with somebody else?"

Eli shook his head. "We don't have anything right now, Ed. We have bits of information that point to their possible involvement is all. It's a long shot we'll have to check out."

Faraday raised an eyebrow. "You just said we'll have to check it out. That mean we're going to work on this together?"

Eli smiled as he rose from his chair. "You're pretty quick for a state guy. Thanks for the information, Ed. I've got to get back and tell the SAC what you told me."

"Wait a minute, Tanner. Why don't you let me tell him.

My boss would feel better knowing we're involved in the case."

"Sure, come on."

"First, come clean with me, Tanner. What have you got that makes you all think the Yona Group has dirty friends?"

Eli motioned to his stomach. "It's my gut telling me, Ed."

Faraday's eyes narrowed. "I know you, Tanner. I trust your instincts, but you're keepin' somethin' from me, aren't you?"

Eli looked into his friend's eyes. "You're right, Ed, I am.

You'll just have to trust me on this for now."

Faraday studied Eli's face a moment before nodding.

"Let's go."

Dahlonega, Georgia Henry Cobb dabbed his perspiring forehead with a handkerchief as he tried to concentrate. He stared at the pad of legal paper on his desk where he had written down numbers.

He had calculated that the sudden withdrawal of money would cost the group at least a million in projected earnings for the quarter.

Hearing a loud clanging noise, Cobb looked up. His office door swung open and his secretary gave him an apologetic look. "It's the fire alarm, Mr. Cobb."

"What the hell?"

The secretary was about to shrug but an excited voice yelled from the hallway, "There's smoke coming from the second floor!"

Cobb stood and hurried toward the door. "Call the fire department and I'll go see what's going on."

Striding down the hall past scurrying people from other offices, Cobb reached the steps leading down to the second floor. He was about to start down but felt the presence of someone behind him. He was going to turn but never made it. A second later his body was tumbling down the stairs.

Twelve miles north of the Yona Group office building, Ted paced nervously beside the van that was parked under trees just off Highway 19.

Glenn touched Ted's arm and nodded toward the two men approaching them.

Ted closed his eyes for a moment, praying they had good news.

Virgil smiled as he halted in front of his team leader.

"You're one lucky squid, Ted." He turned and motioned up the road. "Up ahead and around the bend they pulled off the highway onto a dirt road that goes up about four hundred yards to an old cabin. Ray and me saw 'em pull off and drove on past. Good thing we did 'cause they dropped off two guys at the road intersection. We pulled off the road a half mile up and humped back through the woods and spotted 'em at the cabin. They were unloadin' trunks and haulin"em inside."

Ramon took over as he stepped closer. "We snooped and pooped up closer to 'em. They're Cuban, man, I heard 'em talkin', and they're plannin' on stayin' a few days. They're waiting on more people to show up and take the money.

They don't wanna take the chance of moving all the bread at once. Others are going to come and take out a million at a time."

Relieved, Ted relaxed his taut shoulders. "Any place a chopper could land around the cabin?" he asked.

Ramon shook his head. "No way, man, it's all forest along the road and around the cabin. And the cabin sits just below a mountain, so there's no way out except that dirt road. They've boxed themselves in."