Miranda Vaughn Mystery 01.00 - Chasing the Dollar (14 page)

"He doesn't know we have the drive, right?" I asked.

"
Right," Jake said, giving me a sidelong glance that was full of suspicion.

"
Then we tell him that you couldn't get the drive from Patterson's office. I'll be there with you, though, and if he's smart, he'll realize that I have access to at least some of the accounts—the ones under my name."

Jake didn
't say anything, just leaned back and studied me.

"
I can go to the bank and access the accounts in my name. If there are funds there, I can move them, withdraw them, whatever I want," I said, the idea forming quickly in my brain.

He nodded slowly, but his brow furrowed.
"Bill wants to move the money back to the criminal enterprise to save his ass."

"
Yes, but I can move it anywhere," I said. Like to the account I opened in the Cayman Islands, anticipating Bill's willingness to transfer the money back to the Sahara Fund investors once I showed him that I knew what he was really up to. Well, what I had thought he was up to. Now I had even more leverage—if I could talk to him alone.

Jake reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded paper.
"If you can get Bill to cooperate with you, that is. We've got an account set up to receive the funds for the Sahara Fund investors."

He slid the paper across the small table to me, and I unfolded it and saw the long string of digits.

"Why do you have this?"

"
Because that's what you needed, right?"

I nodded, dumbfounded.
"You said you wouldn't let me blackmail anyone, though."

He sighed.
"I won't let you blackmail anyone. But I talked to Matt about it. We think that if you were to convince Patterson executives to part with the funds for the investors, that wouldn't amount to blackmail. As long as you weren't threatening to turn them in to authorities, or otherwise cause them harm."

That had been my plan, but I could adapt it.

"Sure, I can do that," I said, studying the twenty-two digits. I read it several times committing it to memory, and handed him the paper.

"
Keep it," he said, pushing it back. "You need that to transfer the funds."

"
I'll remember it."

"
The account was set up by the U.S. government, and anything that gets moved there will be passed on to the Sahara Fund's investors, even if it's not the full amount they're owed," he said, then paused. "And what do you mean you'll remember it?"

"
I memorized it."

"
That's impossible."

"
Try me."

He took the paper back and looked at it as I recited the digits back to him.

"How did you do that?"

"
I told you. I'm good with numbers. Like,
Rain Man
good."

He still looked suspicious, one eyebrow raised slightly.
"Really? Can you count cards, too?"

"
That's a limited universe of options—each deck has fifty-two cards, four suites, and thirteen numbers or face cards. Even if you have multiple decks, it's not hard to figure the probability of what's going to come up next," I said. "But no, I don't cheat at cards."

He stared at me a little longer, his head tilted slightly.
"Okay, back to the plan. You're going to transfer the money, close the two accounts, and get out of the bank."

"
That's it?"

"
Well, you're also going to turn over evidence you developed to me so I can give it to the Department of Justice, including the flash drive you took from Bill's office," he said. "And any cooperation you can provide in deciphering the bank records would be greatly appreciated."

"
How appreciated?" I asked.

"
What do you want?"

I want my old life back
.

It was my first thought, but I didn
't say it out loud. I wasn't even sure if it was true, anyway. Did I want my old life back? I'd be married to Dylan by now, still working at Patterson Tinker and going to Holland family functions at the country club on special occasions. It sounded so drab and shallow. Dylan had turned out to be a weasel, and I had never warmed to his family anyway. They certainly weren't all that welcoming to me, either. Patterson Tinker was a corrupt institution, and the thought of working for the criminal underworld's bankers, even unknowingly, was nauseating.

So what did I want?

"A public apology from the U.S. government, acknowledgement that I wasn't involved in the Sahara Fund scheme, recognition for everything I've done to get the money returned to the victims of Ralph and Tim. And if the government could repay my Aunt Marie for my legal expenses, that would be great."

He looked down at the floor, his lips tight, and my hopes sank.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, looking back up at me. "I can't make any promises."

"
Right. The Department of Justice doesn't like to admit mistakes. If they apologize to me, it makes it look like they were lazy and believed two lying, convicted felons rather than doing the legwork to uncover what really happened at Patterson Tinker."

His jaw tensed.
"Something like that."

"
When do we meet with Bill?"

"
Tomorrow morning," he said. "Tonight, just try and get some sleep, okay?"

He stood up and moved toward the door to his room.

"It's only six o'clock," I said.

"
Well, I'm exhausted," he said. "You can do whatever you want. Just don't leave the hotel room."

"
That leaves me tons of options," I muttered as he pulled the door between our rooms nearly closed, leaving it open just a few inches.

I heard the shower run in Jake
's room and lay down on the bed to get some sleep. But my mind was off and running. It felt like I was missing something. I tossed and turned and finally heard the bed springs in Jake's room groan. After a little while, I could hear his rhythmic breathing. I pictured him in the bed on the other side of the wall from me, wondering what he slept in. Boxers? Or less?

Jesus
. I sat up and shook my head. Lusting after Jake Barnes was exactly the wrong thing to do. What did I even know about him? He was at least semi-fluent in Spanish and had some conversational Cantonese skills. He had a sister, and he thought I was a criminal. I wasn't even sure that we liked each other. We certainly didn't trust each other. It simply wasn't going to happen.

No matter what my hormones wanted.

The resort where Bill wanted to meet was a beachside affair that was lightly populated with tourists brave enough to travel during hurricane season. The rush of holiday travelers wouldn't hit for another month, when the rain and humidity let up. As I followed Jake along the pebbled path that led to a covered patio, I could feel my cotton shirt absorbing the ambient humidity. The morning air was warm, and clouds were already forming overhead.

Bill was at a table at the edge of the patio that overlooked a stretch of gentle surf, alone with a drink that featured a spear full of fruit. I hadn
't seen a girlier drink since my last stint as a bridesmaid.

Giddy relief flooded his face when he saw us approach. He stood and greeted Jake with a warm handshake.

"You made it," he said. "Great, great."

He sat down and stood again quickly.
"You guys want a drink?"

He waved at the waiter then sat perched on the edge of the chair—a bundle of frayed nerves in a loud Hawaiian print shirt.

"No, we're good," Jake said, taking the seat that let him scan the patio. The restaurant wasn't open yet, but the bartender took a break from wiping down glasses to make another daiquiri for Bill.

Bill sucked down the last of his drink and started on the next immediately. Between sips, he kept his gaze on me, as if he was studying my features.

"So, you didn't have any trouble leaving Macau?" Bill asked. The air was cool with the promise of a hot day in the near future, but Bill's forehead was already dotted with sweat.

Jake eyed him and then shook his head.
"Why would we?"

"
No reason," Bill said with a shrug. "Just you know, international travel."

"
Why are we here, Bill?"

Jake was apparently done with small talk.

Bill's glance flickered over me again, and I was growing increasingly uncomfortable, as if I was the bargaining chip the two men were fighting over.

Bill slurped down the last of the drink and fidgeted with the skewered fruit.
"Did you get it? The drive?"

Jake shook his head.
"No."

He was a consummate liar. No elaboration, no unnecessarily complicated explanation. I made a mental note.

The faint hope in Bill's expression drained away at the single word. "I'm going underground."

I looked at Jake, who was still watching his brother-in-law.
"You're abandoning Henry and Lily?"

Bill put his hand to this temple and rubbed his forehead, genuine grief on his face.

"It's better this way," he said softly. "I can't go back to the States. Not now."

"
Where are you going?"

Bill looked at Jake and shook his head.
"I can't say. But I need a favor."

We
'd just traveled around the globe at his request, and I wasn't in the mood to grant Bill any further favors. Neither, it appeared, was Jake, who raised an eyebrow at the request.

"
What sort of favor?"

Bill looked away, concentrating on the pineapple chunks in front of him.

"I, uh, need to get something. It's, uh, complicated. But uh, well—"

"
Spit it out, Bill," Jake said, bringing his hand down hard on the table and leaning forward. "We're not here for a vacation."

"
I need you to go to a bank," Bill said. Only he wasn't talking to Jake any longer, he was looking at me.

They were both looking at me.

"What? Why?" I sat up straighter in my chair.

"
Because there are a couple accounts in your name," he said. "I wouldn't need you if I had the flash drive with the account information, but now I can't transfer the money unless it's in person."

I felt my face flush.
Damn it.
I hated being right about Bill's stupid plan.

"
You want me to go into a bank and do what?"

Bill swallowed hard.
"I've set up an account. All you have to do is transfer the money to it. Then that's it. Just walk out. Simple."

I doubted it would be as simple as Bill said.

"Why are the accounts in my name?"

Bill looked around again, and Jake and I did also. It was still just the three of us on the patio. Even the bartender had gone. Bill
's nervousness was contagious, and I found myself on the edge of the metal chair, ready to flee.

"
That wasn't my idea. We just, uh, needed someone whose information was already available to us, and you were on some of Patterson's legitimate accounts," Bill said. "But here's the thing. We have to hurry. We need to do this today. Tomorrow at the latest."

"
What's the rush?" Jake asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned toward Bill again.

"
The money was supposed to be transferred, and if it's not done soon, heads are going to roll. And I mean that literally. I need to get in there and move the money," Bill said. "If not, well, I'm a dead man."

"
And you're just going to disappear using what? Your retirement account? You're taking the money for yourself, aren't you?"

Bill started to shake his head but then laughed and looked down, his lips pursed.
"You know, Jake, you're a pretty good investigator. Yeah, I'm taking a small percentage for myself. Not enough to put a target on my back. Just enough to let me start over. They won't even miss it."

"
Who is involved in this?" Jake asked.

Bill shook his head.
"If you do this, I'll give you all the information I've got on this scheme. Everything. You'll take down the entire Patterson empire with this information."

Jake leaned back.
"Start talking."

Bill shook his head.
"No, I need you to do this first."

"
That's not going to happen."

Jake
's voice had taken on an edge I hadn't heard before, and I got the impression that his feelings toward his brother-in-law had been suppressed over many Thanksgiving dinners in the past.

Bill pushed away from the table and stood, Jake following him. I started to stand as well, when Bill leapt in my direction, grabbed me
, and spun me around. The cold metal of a gun barrel against my neck made me go still, not even daring to swallow.

"
No, Jake. We do it my way."

Jake backed up half a step and put his hands up.
"This is not necessary, Bill."

Bill pressed the gun barrel into my neck and I could feel my pulse pound against the metal. Jake caught my eye and my breath quickened. The panic rose in my gut and I fought to keep myself calm and not set off the nervous man with the gun to my neck.

"I won't hurt her. I promise. I just need her to do this. Then I'll let her go," Bill said.

And then the target would be on me. It would look like I stole the money being held for the big bad guys that Bill was afraid of. And he
'd be off living under an assumed name.
Nice
.

"
Just stay calm," Jake said, meeting my eyes.

I tried to nod, but the gun bit into my jawbone. Bill
's grip tightened around my body as he pulled me backward with him, away from the patio and toward the path Jake and I had just used.

At the parking lot, he kept me at his side, the gun now jammed into my ribs. He opened the driver
's side door of a small rental car and pushed me in, forcing me across the center console to the passenger seat. As he climbed in behind me, I grabbed the door handle, but felt the gun push into my side again.

"
Oh, no, you don't," Bill said. "You're staying with me."

I sat back in the vinyl seat and tried to follow Jake
's advice—taking deep breaths as the car fishtailed out of the parking lot, Bill's attention divided between me and the road. I turned and saw Jake racing toward a motorcycle, then we rounded a corner, and I lost sight of him.

My heart sank. I was alone with a highly unstable and armed idiot who put all the pertinent information about his complex criminal scheme on a flash drive and didn
't even bother to encrypt it.

Bill looked behind us, his face pale and sweaty. He wiped his hands on the fabric of his shorts and then gripped the wheel.

"God, I can't believe this," he muttered, probably to himself.

"
Look, just keep calm. We'll get out of this," I said, figuring that it was better to have a calm kidnapper than a fidgety one.

He took a deep breath and turned the car onto a wide boulevard, merging with a steady flow of traffic.

"I'm sure you didn't think it was going to come to this," I said, trying to engage him in conversation. If he would talk, I could get more information about what was going on.

"
Of course not," he said, turning to me. "I'm not a bad guy. Really. I just need your help. There's no other way."

"
What happened at Patterson?" I asked, lowering my voice and trying to stay calm.

He shook his head, and I thought he wasn
't going to answer me. Then he inhaled deeply. "It just exploded. I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, it went down quick. There wasn't time to do anything."

I nodded sympathetically.
"What does that mean for the clients?"

That didn
't seem like the right term, but I didn't know what else to call them. The criminals?

"
There was no way to tell them to stop transferring funds, but without the laptop or the backup, I can't get in and complete the transactions," he said. I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, but nodded again.

"
If there's a chance we can get some of the money moved, that will pacify them. Buy me some time," he said, looking past me at the traffic alongside the car. "Buy me some time to fix things."

He wasn
't holding me hostage to fix things. He was going to take the money and run like hell. And I didn't blame him.

"
What happens if you can't—if I can't move the money," I asked.

He frowned and wiped his hands on his shorts again.
"Bad things, so make sure it goes well."

"
Who are the clients?"

He gave me an incredulous look.
"Don't be stupid, you know who they are."

I shook my head, and he laughed.
"Fine, act dumb. Let's just say you'll be on the wrong side of the worst people if you don't go into that bank and do exactly what I tell you to do."

I swallowed and nodded.
"Are you going in with me?"

He shrugged, and we drove in silence for about ten more minutes, weaving in and out of traffic and making random turns onto small side streets. I looked behind us whenever I could but never saw anyone who looked like Jake on a motorcycle. When I thought about not having Jake at my side in a foreign country, my heart started racing again. How had I become so dependent on him so quickly?

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Bill said, speaking quickly and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in a manic pattern. "We're going to the bank. You're going to go in and transfer the money to my account. Then when we walk out the door, you go one way, and I'll go the other. Got that?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"How much is in the account?"

"
I'm not sure exactly, just transfer everything, okay?"

He had the gun in his lap, and with his right hand he reached over and gripped my purse strap. He fumbled with the clasp until it opened and then rooted around in it. He withdrew my passport and wallet and tossed them to me.

"Good, you have your ID. That's all you need," he said.

"
This is never going to work," I said, stuffing my passport and wallet back into the bag.

"
It better work," he said, picking the gun up again.

He steered the car into a parking lot and parked in the very back, near an alley. I looked around but didn
't see the bank.

"
Don't even think of running off," he said, keeping the gun pointed at me as he got out of the car. I nodded and got out of the car. He didn't seem experienced with a gun. If I ran, he was as likely to shoot me on accident as on purpose. I didn't want to get shot either way, so I decided to wait for an opening to get away. If that didn't work, I had an idea to thwart his plan once we got in the bank.

Taking my arm, Bill forced me down the alley behind the parking lot. We turned left down a narrow path between two tall buildings. It wasn
't so much an alley as a grimy, dark walkway that was probably home to large angry rats. I stepped over a broken bottle and around a pile of cloth that I didn't examine too closely.