Rogue Code (23 page)

After the shower, Jeff took several Advil, toweled off, confirmed the delivery man was gone, then dressed in fresh clothes. When he finished, he felt like a new man, an aching new man, but new nonetheless.

“So what did the lawyer say?” Jeff asked as he sat down, hefted a piece of warm pizza, and took his first bite.

“He said if we turn ourselves in, we’ll get out on bond. The case will take about two years, not counting appeals.”

“What? But we’re innocent!”

“That’s what they all say. He says the longer we wait to turn ourselves in, the tougher it will be to get out on bond, and the tougher the U.S. Attorney will be in dealing with us. Apparently they prefer criminals who make their job easy for them.”

“I don’t have a brokerage account. Someone else set that up.”

“I know. But you’ll have to show that and how do you prove a negative? The same goes for the malware. There’s no proof you planted it, but there’s no proof you didn’t. It uses your code and you get the dirty money. Maybe you can get them to see reason, but it will take a long time.”

“Jeez.”

“The retainer is fifty thousand dollars. He estimates the defense would cost over two hundred dollars.”

“Jeez.” Jeff put down the pizza. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“I have the fifty thousand and about half of the rest. It would wipe out my savings though.”

“How about a price break for two?”

Frank paused, then said, “He says he’ll represent me only. You need to get your own lawyer.” Jeff wrinkled his forehead. “It’s so the feds can turn me, Jeff. Come on, you watch television. When the going gets tough, my lawyer will want me to flip on you. He’s already thinking it. I could pick it up over the phone.”

“Jeeze.” Jeff rubbed his forehead. The headache was getting worse again.

“So here’s what I say. Let’s finish the pizza, then get cracking. Let’s figure out what this hidden code does and see if the guys framing us have been careful. Maybe we can figure out who the inside guy is. At the least we’ll know more and that can’t hurt when the time comes to tell our story.”

“That doesn’t sound like much.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Frank picked up a slice. “Anyway, we’ve got help coming.” He grinned.

33

MACATUBA

SÃO PAULO, BRAZIL

12:49
P.M.

Sonia Lopes de Almeida disconnected her cell phone and grimaced. Her father. She was nearly twenty years old, and he still treated her like a child.

She glanced across the room. Victor was busy at his desk. She wondered what he did so diligently. He’d made it, he was rich, why work so hard? Once, when she’d told him as much, he’d only laughed. “Getting it,” he’d said, “is the easy part. It’s keeping it that’s hard.”

Keeping what? she’d thought. Just who was Victor Bandeira? Oh, she’d heard the stories—everyone had. Drugs, cartels, crooked businesses. You heard it all the time. The politicians were crooked, the businesses were crooked, the cops were on the take, it was the same everywhere. Who was she to draw some line? And how much of it was really true?

Once, just once, after he emerged from his helicopter, the wind had caught Bandeira’s jacket and she’d seen the butt of a pistol at his waist. She’d never known a citizen to carry a gun before, and it caught her by surprise. Perhaps the stories were true. Why else would he carry a gun, especially since he was always surrounded by so much security?

She’d never told her father that she was seeing Victor Bandeira. The men were in business so normally she would have felt obligated to let him know but somehow, whenever she thought she might say something, she always hesitated.

Sonia lay back on the couch, lifted her magazine but watched him as she had in the past. He was a handsome man, a bit heavyset, but then, that always seemed to go with money and power. He could be generous with her, but she’d seen him be petty and parsimonious as well. There was, she’d observed, a slight cruelty in the occasional set of his mouth. Was it real? Or an act? They’d been together such a short time she still hadn’t figured him out.

She had boyfriend, a real one. She’d never told Victor. At first, it didn’t matter, but now he was turning her into his mistress. He hadn’t discussed it with her. He just assumed that was their relationship. Still, there was no agreement between them, and she knew he’d been with other women since they were together. She even knew one of them. It wasn’t as if she loved Victor. And Bruno was nothing like him. Slender, elegant in manner, quiet, soft spoken. But he could never give her what she really wanted. Only Victor could do that.

Her mother knew about her and Victor, and approved. “We are not as rich as you think, Sonia,” she said. “It’s time you knew. Our family has lost steadily since before you were born. If we hadn’t, your father would never have allowed the bank to fall into Victor’s hands. For now, it is important they do business together. Carlos doesn’t like Victor, and Victor knows that. If you are—” She’d hesitated. “—if you are his lover, then he will not do anything against your father.”

“You want me to be a prostitute?” Sonia retorted.

“Don’t be silly. That’s not what I said at all. You did this on your own. If you’d said something to me earlier, I’d have told you to stay away from him. You should have known better. But you’re already there, aren’t you? I’m telling you there is a lot at stake here so be careful. It’s time you grew up, time you learned what a woman can do, and stopped being a spoiled child.” She’d seized Sonia by the shoulders. “It’s time you repaid your father for all he’s done for you, for his years of sacrifice.”

Sonia sighed. Victor had been fun at first, exciting since their affair was secret and forbidden. She’d even enjoyed cheating on Bruno, but she was growing weary of it. All she wanted, all she’d ever wanted, was to be Miss Brazil. Was that so much to ask for? Everything was corrupt, even the beauty pageant. She’d checked. Only the mistresses of the powerful ever won. When Victor first turned his attention to her, she’d seen her chance. She had a few years. If he wouldn’t make it happen, then someone else would.

Sonia turned her attention to the magazine she’d been reading all morning. There was the current Miss Brazil, taking up half the pages. That’s why she’d bought it. Sonia had seen her up close. She wasn’t so much. Sonia knew she had a much better body.

“What are you staring at?” Bandeira asked.

“You,” she said, quickly looking at him over the magazine. “I was wondering when you would stop working. I’m very lonely.” She pouted.

Bandeira laughed, pushed himself away from the desk, stood up, and walked toward her. “What is it you want?”

Sonia turned the magazine toward him. “You know.”

He laughed and sat down on the couch. “Miss Brazil? Is that it?”

She sat up, excited. “Think about it, Victor. Your lover would be Miss Brazil, the most beautiful woman in the country. Maybe, maybe even Miss World. Every man would envy you.”

“They already do.” He eyed her steadily. “I don’t think you know what is involved to make this happen.”

Sonia beamed as she sat up. “You checked? You found out?”

He nodded. “I made a few calls. There are many men, rich men with power, who would be doing the same thing for their woman. It can be very expensive and the outcome is not always guaranteed after you’ve spent all that money.”

“But you have lots of money.”

“Oh yes. And I’ll have more if I didn’t waste it on foolish chases like Miss Brazil.”

“But…”

“My child, it would cost a great deal of money.” Bandeira took her wrist, pulled her to her feet, then led her to the bedroom.

Though she knew she should be passionate, do the things he liked, she couldn’t help being put off, a bit cold. Sometimes men were so taken with their own pleasure it didn’t matter, but Victor wasn’t like that. He was always attune to her. She didn’t care. Her mother might want her to sleep with this man for the sake of the family, but she did it for her own reasons. When he rolled off her, he scowled and made a dismissive grunt. After his shower, she was still in a foul mood.

Bandeira made no attempt to cheer her up as he often did when she was down. He glanced at her from time to time, obviously enjoying the sight of her naked, as he took a call. She knew then he’d taken that little pill to boost him a bit. He’d want to do it again in an hour or so. He was so predictable.

“Tell me about yourself,” she asked. “Are you who they say you are?”

He looked up from his phone. “Who do they say I am?”

“You know.”

He made a face and lowered the phone. “People say all kinds of things. What have you heard?”

“That you are a
chefe
. The
chefe
of NL.” Sonia was stunned at her audacity. She’d never even allowed herself to think the letters NL before now.

Bandeira smiled, and she saw a flash of the cruelty that always lurked in his face. “Why do you want to know?” She shrugged and pouted a little. “You are a child sometimes, Sonia. Men do not speak of such things.”

She rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom. She spent a long time in the shower, not wanting to go back to the bedroom, not wanting him to mount her again. This time he might insist on her doing what he wanted. She hated that, hated being forced. If she was in the mood or been promised something nice, she was willing. But he was saying the opposite, that he’d do nothing to help her. She had to find another rich man, one easier to control. Her thoughts ticked off the possibilities. Finally, with no choice she climbed out of the shower, toweled herself slowly, then returned to the bedroom, sitting on a chair across from the bed.

Bandeira looked up at her. “So you want to know the kind of man I am. Suddenly that is important to you.” He stood and walked toward her, naked. Sitting down like this, looking up at him, she realized he was twice her size.

“I just want to be Miss Brazil,” she said, quietly realizing how badly she’d played her part.

“You will never be that, my dear. Never.” Without warning he struck her on the side of her face with his open hand, the blow catching her by surprise, knocking her onto the floor. “Perhaps it could have been,” he said, continuing. “I made the calls, laid out what was required. I was considering it to please you, and because it would have pleased me.” He reached down and seized her bare feet, then pulled her toward the bed. “But then I learned about your little plaything. What did they call him? Bruno? Yes, Bruno, that is it.”

Bandeira lifted her from the floor and tossed her bouncing onto the bed. She let out a cry, her hands clutched against the side of her face. “I have a video. Do you want to see it?”

Bandeira picked up the remote and punched a button. An enormous flat screen descended from the ceiling. Sometimes they watched pornography on it. There was a bright flash; then it came alive. She could see her boyfriend, Bruno. He was naked, his arms tied above his head. He’d been beaten.

“In the end,” Bandeira said, “he wasn’t so much a man.” He looked at her, gauging her reaction. “You were cold to me earlier. Now you will be warm. You will not say no, will you? All you have to do is watch the little show and see what is in store for my favorite
puta
. You will work hard, won’t you?”

Bandeira turned her so she could see the screen more clearly. “Now,” he said as he lowered himself to her, “now you will see who I really am.” It was then that Bruno began to scream.

34

HOLIDAY INN

LAFAYETTE STREET

NEW YORK CITY

2:21
P.M.

Daryl sat in the hotel lobby and watched for Frank. There was the usual foot traffic in and out. She could see the doorman, dressed like a college drum major, opening doors, putting guests into taxis, touching his cap to acknowledge a tip.

Since receiving Frank’s telephone call, she’d been in a state of frenzy. It had taken no time to make her decision. She sent Clive an e-mail telling him she would be out of the office and city a few days on emergency personal business. Unable to catch the red-eye she’d booked an early-morning flight. She spent a restless night in her own bed, then packed and flew to New York. Once she’d settled into her room she’d called Frank to arrange a meeting.

So what was she really doing here? she asked herself as she waited. She’d already decided to help but wondered now if this wasn’t really about trying to reconnect with Jeff. She wasn’t married to the man, hadn’t seen him or spoken to him in a year. What was he to her that she’d drop everything and fly across the country?

Frank and his wife, however, were college friends. Over the last few years, Frank had helped her more than once, at considerable career risk to himself. There was no question of her helping him. That’s what she told herself as a man dropped onto the seat beside her. She ignored him, looked at her watch, then looked back toward the entrance. But part of her understood she was primarily here to help Jeff. He needed her.

“I took this class once,” Frank said quietly. Daryl looked to her left in amazement. “The instructor said all this Hollywood stuff with false mustaches and makeup was a bunch of crap and useless in the field. He said there were simpler and more effective ways to disguise yourself. You’re looking good, Daryl.”

“I didn’t recognize you.” She stared at Frank again unable to put her finger on the transformation. Never an especially sharp dresser, he looked a bit shabby today, even though the clothes were typical for him. The man who’d sat beside her was older too, perhaps a bit sick.

“You weren’t supposed to.”

“You’re fatter.”

“Not really. Just some cotton between my cheek and gums. It gives me a sad sack look.”

“There’s more though.”

“Not so much, mostly just my demeanor, my walk and stance, the way I look at things, interact with the world around me. I’m in loser mode right now. Like it?”

“Not especially, but it definitely worked.”

“I picked up the jacket at a used clothing store, same with the shoes.”