Lucky Charm (33 page)

As yet, there wasn’t enough data to be certain. There was still no report on Morrison.

The man was persistent, certainly, but they were sure he’d learned nothing so far. If he had he would’ve reported it. There had been no warning from Lovell’s contacts, nor had police or federal agencies swarmed all over them. Whatever Morrison suspected, though, was really only the tip of the iceberg.

However, he’d shown remarkable facility in eluding Genardi’s security teams but then that wasn’t difficult. They’d served their purpose well enough as intimidation but were to a man more brawn than brains. It was only a matter of time, however, until Morrison slipped and made a mistake. Unfortunately, his doggedness would likely doom him to a fate similar to that of his friend. There was simply too much risk in allowing him free to draw unwanted attention.

There was always the chance he might succeed.

That would not do.

It was Lovell’s job to foresee and forestall such things. For that he was paid a very handsome salary, supplied with this elegantly appointed office and provided some benefits his previous employers would never have considered.

No, Mr. Morrison could not be allowed to wander loose. Eventually, one of his or Genardi’s teams would pick the man up, that was inevitable. He would slip or make a mistake and then they would adequately discourage him. If that wasn’t enough, there was always Genardi’s solution.

Perhaps the woman was involved, perhaps not. It was too great a chance to take. After all, he was being paid to consider all eventualities. To do that, he needed answers only she could provide.

He pulled up the picture Genardi had sent him. As pretty and as fragile as a porcelain doll with that raven hair, the faint hint of rose in her cheeks and those china blue eyes. He wondered if her skin was as soft as it appeared?

Drumming his fingers on the desk as he eyed the picture, he considered his options and alternatives and then he called in some of his associates.

First he needed more information.

Mr. Genardi was proving unreliable, his information suspect.

It was time to bring in his own people.

When this was all over he would recommend permanent termination for Genardi. If there had been a suitable replacement at hand, he would have done it already.

It was hard for Matt to let Ariel go to Marathon the next morning, knowing the danger she might face there but also because he’d enjoyed her company so much. It startled him to realize how much he was going to miss her after so short a time. The last few weeks she’d been a near constant – if distant – presence in his life.

He also had severe misgivings about it. As big as that building was and with all the exits – elevators, stairs, emergency exits, delivery bays and who knew what else – there were too many ways for someone to get her out of the building without being seen.

“I’ll be nearby,” he said, as much to reassure himself as her.

Ariel could sense the tension in him. She touched his cheek gently. “I know. I have your cell number and Darrin’s programmed into my phone on speed dial. You watch out for yourself, the stooges are still out there.”

What frightened her was the idea that he would be alone with those men out there. She’d be in a room full of people. Whoever or whatever else these people were, they weren’t stupid. That many witnesses were too much of a risk. There was too much chance she would fight and that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Not everyone who worked at Marathon was part of something illegal. Most weren’t doing anything illegal at all. A fair number – the secretaries, janitors, the lower level salespeople – were probably just trying to earn a living. One of them might call 911.

Right now, no one at Marathon had any proof anyone suspected something was wrong at the company, although they might have their suspicions. Guilty people often did. If so, the riskiest time would be after everyone left, when she went to get Matthew.

If he could get into the building unnoticed.

“I’ll be fine,” Matt assured her, seeing a matching worry in her own eyes and guessing the cause. “I’ll be waiting by the vending machines.”

He had a way, though.

A small thread of excitement and apprehension went through him.

Answers at last, for all the risk it would take to get them.

The answers to Bill’s death were finally, perhaps, within reach.

Matt took the wheel to drive them to Marathon’s offices on the outskirts of the city.

Marathon’s executives definitely had a thing for tall, shiny office towers. Downtown had a few office buildings but the tallest structures were the hotels. Here in New Orleans some of the businesses were outside the city in Metairie close to the airport.

It was a fascinating ride, despite the worries.

Ariel had never seen so many cemeteries. Row on row of mausoleums, big ones, small ones, some plain, some with statuary, all surrounded by tall fences. She saw more cemeteries on the ride to Marathon’s offices than she thought she'd ever seen in her entire life. Other than that, though, it was pretty bland and uninviting. Where the city was interesting and somewhat exciting, the suburbs were like all suburbs, endless stretches of subdivisions and tract housing. It was sweltering, hot and humid as well.

Matthew shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. Sweat clung to him, as did the humidity. Both of which made his clothes stick to him. He longed for a drier heat.

Soon he might have answers and then at last he could go home.

As they drove, several buildings stood out, impossible to miss. Standing on a rise of land, perhaps the highest ground around for miles with a small plaza spread like a skirt around their bases were office buildings. Home to a division of Marathon.

Matt pulled to a stop at the bottom of a wide set of stairs that led up through tiers of concrete planters to the plaza above.

For all he wanted answers, Matt was still uneasy about sending Ariel in there by herself. It was obvious she was determined, though.

Giving her a swift, hard kiss, he sent her on her way, watched her walk up the steps to the plaza. Lovely legs with her skirt switching around them as her long dark hair flagged in the breeze.

She gave him a quick look over her shoulder as she reached the top, nothing more than a flash of blue eyes as he pulled away.

The building’s lot required a security card so he couldn’t park there.

A little bar in the middle of a strip mall across from the building looked like the best he could do but at least he was close. The waiting, of course, would be the worst. It would be a very long day. He was used to long stakeouts but no one really got used to the boredom.

He missed Phoenix’s dry heat, the humidity here was enervating. A few minutes outside and he was drenched, his shirt clinging to him. Inside nursing a bottle of beer by the windows, he watched the TV above the bar intermittently and hoped nothing was going wrong that he didn’t know about. He kept thinking of things he wanted to tell her, warn her about, a dozen conversations that started and stopped in his head.

There was no two ways about it, elfin Ariel had him thoroughly enraptured.

Somehow he found he didn’t mind.

The office manager, a woman by the name of Beatrice Miller, seemed unconcerned to see Ariel as she exited the elevators. At least, she seemed no more concerned than usual at the prospect of her computers being tinkered with. Tall and brisk, dressed in a dark-red power suit that didn’t flatter her ashen coloring at all, she was brisk, efficient and impersonal. Her accent was from somewhere north of the Mason-Dixon line, which accounted for the lack of southern warmth. She neither stared at Ariel too long nor seemed stressed. Was it because the warning had been delivered? Or wasn’t she in the loop? The small signs of the stooges handiwork on Ariel’s face had been erased, more or less, by makeup. The cut on her forehead was healing but hidden by her hair.

Perhaps Beatrice Miller wasn’t involved in whatever was going on. Ariel didn’t know.

Whoever had sent the stooges expected her to keep her mouth shut and she did. If anyone watched, she was acting normally. Any nervousness she showed would probably be chalked up as evidence of the warning being delivered, rather than the risk she was taking.

As usual, Ariel found that half the things that needed to be done before she arrived hadn’t been. Documents hadn’t been copied, bank checks hadn’t been sent to be set up, settings hadn’t been changed or fixed. She set about doing them without complaint. Beatrice Miller left her alone, which was fine with Ariel. She checked the settings on the server and then did the same on all the workstations.

No one seemed to pay any more attention to her than usual and she was very aware of it.

The day seemed to go on forever.

As she did all the prep, she called up the data. If Matt’s friend Bill was right…

If he hadn’t been…

Then Matthew could go home safe.

The anomalies whispered in the back of her mind.

In finance there were so many fiddles possible. Enron and so many others had proven that.

Pyramid schemes were the easiest to set up and conceal. Use some of the money from newer investors to pay dividends to the older investors – a fraction of the money invested but a significant share – giving them an edge over the current interest rate but not enough to draw attention. They would talk to their friends, bring more investors into the plan. In the meantime, the vast majority of the money went into secret bank accounts.

That was by far not the only way.

She studied the sweep accounts and wondered. Was it just her imagination or was too little money coming back?

In a sweep account the balance in the bank account was swept out each night to be deposited in an investment account in the Cayman Islands. Overnight it accrued interest and in the morning was swept back into the primary account. Hence the name.

For a business the size of Marathon, the amount should have been several thousand at the very least but it wasn’t. So they were skimming there, too.

And that was the least of it.

It looked more and more as if Matt’s friend Bill had had something to worry about.

That daily accumulation from the sweep accounts alone, when multiplied added up to more than a million a year. And that was the low ball figure.

In the back of her mind was the constant worry for Matthew. Alongside it was the fear of her growing attachment to him.

What would happen when this was over? She lived in Ohio and he lived in Arizona. A very long-distance romance. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t
not
think about it.

She would deal with it when the time came and tried not to admit even to herself how much it would hurt even after so short a time. It seemed as if she’d known him for months but in truth it had only been a matter of days.

What had happened to her carefully constructed defenses?

They’d folded like wet cardboard.

Like moths around a light, hope and fear fluttered frantically in the back of her mind, soft wings of emotion battering her thoughts and each other for dominance. The day yawned before her seemingly interminably. Even work, which had been a proven bulwark for so long, failed to distract her.

At last the long day drew to a close, the sound of drawers opening and shutting as the women retrieved their purses announced that people were leaving for the day.

Tension was a hard ball around her heart, her fear for Matthew made her hands shake as she watched workers log off the system one by one. There were always the one or two laggards convinced that something had to be completely finished before they left for the day but she finally chased them all out.

Keeping to her routine, she checked the system and then started the installation before going down to the basement as she usually did for something to drink.

The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped out.

For a minute, her heart went cold.

Matthew wasn’t there.

There was no sign of him. Had security found him? Or the stooges? If anything had happened to him…

All her fears welled up inside her.