Ring of Lies (70 page)

‘
Three hundred and fifty pounds.
’

Jack looked up, his face grim.
‘
That’s a lot of cash to carry around.
Someone
close to
Elliott
had to know
he
was
skimm
ing
cash
from the money laundering scheme
.
When he refused to hand
some of it over
, they killed him
, t
hen
stole the ATM card
.
’

‘
It’s certainly
a possibility
.
’

‘
Check the bank statements. Were any withdrawals made after Daniel’s death?
’

Grace shuffled through the statements until she found the one for November. She ran a finger down the page
‘
It only goes up to the fifteenth of the month. I wonder—
’
She pushed back her chair and ran upstairs only to return a few minutes later with
an envelope.
‘
I didn’t get chance to look at this yesterday.
’

She quickly tore it open
and tipped out the contents
.
‘
Check book, ATM card, and
yes, there’s another statement covering the account up to the date it was transferred into my name.
’

Jack reached for it. S
he pushed his hand away.

‘
There have been
eleven
withdrawals since Daniel’
s death on the
seventeenth
, each for
small amounts—
twenty-five dollars
or less
.
The last one was
four
days ago.
’

‘
Here’ let me see that.
’
He took the statement and began reading.
‘
You don’t need a pin number for such a small sum. Just walk up to the cash register, swipe it through the machine and get a receipt. A person could survive on small purchases such as those for quite
some time
and it
’s
one way of determining
whether
the account
i
s still active.
’

‘
Then
whoever has the card is in for a surprise.
’

‘
That’s one way of putting it.
’

‘
So all
the FBI has
to do is
arrest the
m
when
they try
to
use
it
again
.
’

Jack looked at his watch.
‘
Make some more coffee while I call Mike, and ask him to check a few things.
’

‘
What things?
’

‘
I’ll tell you if
and when
they pan out.
’

Mike Zupanik closed his files and locked them in the cabinet. He clutched his briefcase tightly and headed out to the parking lot. Already dark, a gentle breeze blew in off the ocean. His
workday
ov
er, he paused to loosen his tie
and unbutton the top button of his shirt. For the first time in a week he was looking forward to being home in time for dinner.

He smiled, unlocked his car and slid into the drivers’ seat, tossing his briefcase onto the seat next to him. He planned on stopping at the local supermarket on his way home to pick up some flowers and chocolates for Chrissie, his wife.

It had been a long week, and he could sure do with spending some time with his grand kids, but Jack’s assertion that someone within the Bureau was leaking information bothered him.

Only six people, excluding the forensic accountant examining Elliott’s records and the computer tech dissecting the MacBook, knew what case Jack was working on.

Apart from Jack and himself, only Diego, Mancuso, Kennedy and Anderson had access to all the relevant information and were directly involved.

He paused at a set of lights to allow a
woman
with a young child to cross the road. He grinned as the small boy tugged at his mother’s hand, urging her to hurry along. He reminded Mike of his grandson, David, always rushing ahead, eager to get on with life. Another seven months until he retired, then he and David would pack up the RV he planned to
purchase
, and take off into the backwoods for a summer of camping and
fishing
.

The car behind tooted his horn
.
Mike lifted his foot of
f
the brake and set the car in motion, his mind once more on his problem.

Alejandro Diego was the newest member of the Miami office. A dedicated career agent, he’d undertaken some tough assignments while working for the DEA, and was the last person Mike would suspect of taking a bribe from a criminal gang. Joel Mancuso had been with the Bureau for ten years, and while he might not have Diego’s quick wit or knowledge of the Cuban Drug trade, he was conscientious, polite and had an impressive record for solving cases.

That just left Bill Kennedy and Seth Anderson.

Mike scrubbed a hand over his temples. It was no secret that Anderson despised Jack.
He
had never understood why, and put it down to a clash of personalities. But now he wondered if it wasn’t something more serious.

Jack and Anderson had completed their basic training at the Academy at the same time. Anderson had done his
two-year
probationary period with the Anchorage office, while Jack had completed his in Boston. Their paths hadn’t crossed again until three years later, when they were both assigned to the Detroit office. That was the last time they’d worked together until fourteen months ago when they became part of his team.

Mike could never figure out why
Jack
and Anderson hated each other. He was dimly aware of the decade-long feud and had been told to watch for it. But years of experience told h
im
that was where he was going to draw the line. Now he wondered if his non-involvement had been the right course of action.

From day one, the animosity between the two of them had been palpable. Jack visibly gritted his teeth in Anderson’s presence and Anderson balled his considerable fists whenever Jack walked his way. Mike had seriously considered having one or both of them transferred, but then the case Jack had been involved in crossed international borders and he’d gone to work in London.

Jack was a damned good investigator, did everything by the book, and his record for solving cases was solid. However, Jack wasn’t averse to voicing his opinions and had been on the wrong side of more than one SAC during his time with the Bureau. But for all that, Mike trusted Jack’s judgement implicitly, and had put him forward for promotion to Assistant Special Agent in Charge.

Anderson, on the other hand, was somewhat of an enigma. He never discussed his family or socialised with his co-workers after work or at weekends. Lately, he’d been even more withdrawn than usual, as if there was something troubling him. More than once Mike could have sworn a flicker of sadness interrupted Seth’s perennially stony expression.

Mike spun the wheel and sent the car spinning through three h
undred and sixty degrees. The ty
res screamed in the dusk. It wouldn’t hurt to check the personnel files of those involved in the case. He punched three on his cell phone’s speed dial—home and Chrissie.

‘
Hey, beautiful,
’
he said.

A woman sighed on the other end of the line.
‘
When I’m ‘beautiful
,’
that
generally means you’re going
be late.
’

‘
You know me so well.
’

‘
Thank God our marriage vows didn’t
include showing up for dinner…
which you’re not going to do, are you, Mike?
’

‘
Sorry, pet. Got a hot date with a big problem.
’

‘
Good thing I made a casserole. It’ll be in the microwave whenever you happen to show up.
’

Mike pursed his lips.
‘
I love you, you know.
’

‘
I love you too. Probably more than I should.
’

The phone went dead in his ear. It was unlike her not to say her usual ‘bye’. He felt a sudden chill. Too much air conditioning, he rationalized. So she didn’t say goodbye. It was really nothing.

Wasn’t it?

The FBI building was in darkness save for the lights illuminating the security desk. Mike showed his pass to the agent on duty, and then jogged his way upstairs to his office. Once inside, he flicked on the desk lamp and dropped his briefcase onto the sofa in the corner of the room.

Mike wasn’t the type of SAC who rode his agent’s backs. Normally he trusted them implicitly, but something about Jack’s concerns resonated with him. He spun the dial on his safe and pulled out a stack of brown folders.

According to Anderson’s file, after he’d graduated
college
he’d done a short stint in the US Army before applying to become an agent. He’d passed all the intensive background checks and the physical, but had failed to be selected first time around. There was nothing unusual in that—often applicants were weeded out on the ground
s
that too many had applied that year. Not to be deterred, Anderson had reapplied
twelve months later
and been accepted on
to the fifteen week training course at the Academy. Since graduating, his career had been unremarkable. He was a steady worker. Showed up when he was supposed to. Reported his cases just the way he was taught. Mike rubbed his chin. He’d never really
realize
d it before, but with Anderson, it was as
if
this was just a job to him. Nothing more.