Marsh just motioned for them to have a seat.
“What do you have for me?” she asked, raking her gaze over each of
them in turn.
Chloe looked over to Sacco, who dropped the big bombshell. “We’ve
been having some great successes,” he said. “We have, for instance,
identified the man in the photograph you gave us. He is Isaiah, and he
is head of a gang of confidence artists and computer hackers operating
out of New York. We think that this is the gang responsible for both
our problems and your Mr. Clover’s difficulties.”
Whatever she thought of that information, Marsh didn’t show any
reaction. “Go on, what else?”
“Well, this is important news isn’t it? We’ve been able to establish a
connection between this Isaiah person and one of the confidence artists
based in Key West. A man named Sandeep Arsani. We think he could
be the key to unraveling Isaiah’s cloak of secrecy.”
“Yes,” Chloe said, “We think Arsani is the key. Currently he’s being
held under house arrest in Key West. If it were possible—”
“I’m afraid your information there is a little out of date,” Marsh said,
interrupting Chloe.
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Arsani was taken into federal custody this morning and is cur-
rently in a holding cell awaiting trial.” Marsh passed a sheet of paper
across her desk to Chloe. It was a fax from a local FBI headquarters in
Miami alerting Marsh to the arrest.
Chloe sucked in a breath through her nose. She sensed that Sacco
had gone rigid next to her. “Oh, I see. That is unfortunate. We were
hoping to—”
“Mr. Arsani is currently a person of great interest to the federal
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authorities, wanted in connection with a number of felonies, several of
which run afoul of new anti-terrorism laws. He’s in a very tough posi-
tion, I’m afraid. I don’t know what plans you might have had regarding
him, but I believe it’s time for you to rethink them.”
“Yes,” said Chloe, stalling for time. What now? “Do you have any
other new information to share with us?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Marsh opened up a file in front of her
and started reading from it. “Paul Reynolds, born March 23rd, 1975,
wanted for questioning in a felony fraud case in California. There’s a
picture here, would you like to see it?”
Chloe didn’t trust her voice at that instant so she just nodded. Marsh
passed over a print out of Paul’s old California driver’s license photo
along with a still from the security camera footage that Oliver had put
up on his site. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Chloe focused on keeping her
face still even as she mentally went over the available exits. “Who’s he?”
she asked, passing the photos over to Sacco. His face betrayed noth-
ing but she could see sweat starting to bubble up at his temples and he
looked a shade more pale than normal.
“He’s another con artist that my investigators believe has ties to both
Mr. Arsani and, we suspect, to the attacks on Ken Clover. That secu-
rity camera picture was from a hotel here in Washington during the
weekend that Ken came under assault. It was actually following his trail
that eventually led us to Key West where we found Arsani. Subsequent
investigations have shown that the two of them are part of a team of con
artists that includes at least three other members. There’s a white male
in his mid-twenties with dark hair and a slim frame, a short, somewhat
overweight Asian-American woman in her early thirties, and an attrac-
tive, Caucasian woman in her late twenties or early thirties. We don’t
have names or pictures yet for these other three, but I think it’s only a
matter of time before we either find Mr. Reynolds or Mr. Arsani starts
talking. I don’t think he’ll adjust to prison life very well, not a man of
his proclivities.”
Chloe knew that Marsh was wrong about that last point—Sandee
could kick anyone’s ass—but that was small consolation when weighed
against the other bombs that Marsh had just dropped. Holy shit, they
were in trouble. Chloe struggled to find the right response, but Marsh
continued.
“The case against Arsani is weak. He has alibis and excuses and
a good lawyer, but I’m confident the federal prosecutor can load on
enough charges that he’ll plead out to something in the neighborhood
of six years rather than face a potential decades long sentence. Part
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of any such plea agreement would of course entail a full disclosure of
information about his accomplices.”
“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” Chloe said. “This is great stuff. Do
you have any more?”
“No more specifics. Just that the group is very tech savvy and also
prone to using disguises. You know, I went through a phase, when I was
much younger, of wearing a wig quite often.” Marsh gestured towards
her carefully coiffed gray and brown hair. “It was fun, dressing up, pre-
tending to be some other girl. But in the end it was more trouble than it
was worth. I’d have to explain the sudden change the next time I went
out with a young man or with new friends who only knew me as a blond
or red head. It got tiresome, all that pretending, all that explaining. I’m
sure you can imagine.”
“Yes,” said Chloe, painfully aware of her own wig. “I can imagine.”
“I’m glad Ken didn’t join us this time,” Marsh said. “It allows us to
talk business without his very serious emotional investment getting in
the way.”
Chloe nodded, thinking ahead to what her excuse for leaving sud-
denly might be. She considered reaching into her briefcase for her phone
and claiming an important call. That might work.
“Ken thinks he wants revenge,” Marsh continued. “He thinks what
he really wants is to destroy those who have destroyed his life. And I’m
sure he would be happy if that happened, at least for a short time. But in
the end, his life would still be destroyed. No, what Ken wants is his old
life back. He wants things to be the way they were before Paul Reynolds
and Sandeep Arsani and their fellow gangsters snuck up behind him
and took away everything. But Ken’s a smart guy, he knows there’s no
going back. You can’t change the past. So he’s just about given up. If he
stays out of jail and gets back at those responsible for his destruction,
he thinks he’ll be satisfied. He’s wrong of course.
“Ken is my client. I honestly don’t care about you and whoever it is
exactly you represent. From what I can gather, the victims of this Isaiah
person’s attacks whom you claim to represent, deserved everything that
happened to them. All evidence points to them being gangsters and
proponents of what amounts to modern day slavery. I don’t care what
becomes of them. That Ken had dealings with them is on his con-
science, not mine. But my job, the job I was hired to do, is to help Ken
Clover. That is all. Do you understand?”
Chloe wasn’t sure she did, or at least she didn’t want to believe that
she did. Was Marsh really saying what she thought she was saying? “I
think so,” Chloe said.
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233
“Good. I think you do too. I can keep Ken out of jail. It will be costly
and difficult, but I can do it. I can’t, however, give him his life back.
Not on my own. But perhaps you can help me. You see, what I need is
a plausible scapegoat for all of Ken’s alleged misdeeds. I need someone
to take the fall, both in the courts and in the media, and that someone
has to be seen as a credible threat. If I got a full confession or some other
form of irrefutable evidence that exonerated Ken from the scurrilous
charges against him, say proof that his e-mails had been doctored by a
third party, his network compromised, and the evidence against him
fabricated, why then I’d be able to restore Ken to some position at least
comparable to his former life. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Chloe.
“Now, I imagine you were going to offer me some sort of plan that
involved releasing Mr. Arsani and somehow using him to find this mys-
terious Isaiah person. That’s just not feasible right now, I’m sorry. But
I could see it working the other way. No, what has to happen is that I
need to exonerate Ken completely before any action can happen with
Mr. Arsani. I need a plausible scapegoat. I’d use Mr. Arsani, but he’s
just not suited to it. No one would believe a drag queen from Key West
orchestrated the downfall of a powerful Washington lobbyist. But I’ll at
least give it a try if no better options present themselves. Paul Reynolds
comes to mind as a legitimate and believable alternative, but since you
claim not to know him, you might have a hard time finding him. Or
maybe not. But I imagine that since you have been looking into this
Isaiah person, and given the tremendous damage he caused your sup-
posed clients down in Florida, he would be a very believable alternative.
Very believable. Bring me evidence that he’s behind what happened to
Ken, along with some guaranteed way to actually apprehend him, well
then I think Mr. Arsani could be freed on probation with no more fuss
or bother. Do you understand?”
Chloe hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it was clearly true. Marsh
knew everything, or at least all the important stuff. She was hiding it in
double talk and insinuation, but she knew who Chloe and Sacco really
were, along with Paul and Bee. The question was, why she wasn’t just
having them all arrested right here and now. If things were as bad as
they seemed, what harm could come from asking? “I understand. But
I have a question.”
“Please.”
“Why not have this Paul Reynolds person picked up yourself?”
Marsh leaned back in her seat and smiled. “You do understand.
Good. The truth is, I don’t know where Mr. Reynolds is. And while
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I could lay hands on some of his cohorts with ease, that might not be
enough. Secondly, once I put Reynolds in the hands of the FBI, my
ability to make deals effectively vanishes. Whatever arrangements that
Reynolds and his friends might make with federal prosecutors would
probably do Ken very little good. On the other hand, if I can, on my
own, gather rock solid evidence that not only proves that Ken’s comput-
ers were tampered with but also casts serious doubts on other actions he
might or might not have actually done in the past that have since come
to light, well, all the better for Ken.”
“You want the perfect deal for Ken, one that will clear his name with
the feds and the media, which is not the kind of deal feds would be
offering,” Chloe said. “I get that. That seems doable.”
“I’m glad you think so. I prefer to control the outcome precisely, but
there are also issues of timing here. I need to do something soon, since
the longer these charges linger, the worse things get for Ken. If no other
option presents itself, I’ll take what I can get. Or rather, I’ll take what-
ever the FBI can get with my assistance. Do you understand?”
Chloe nodded. “Yes, I understand. What kind of time table are we
talking here?”
Marsh looked at the calendar on her desk. “I would say, eight days
seems about right. After that, I’ll have moved on to other options.”
Chloe stood up, and a moment later a stunned-looking Sacco did the
same. She shook Marsh’s hand, saying, “This has been interesting. I’ll
let you know what we come up with.”
“Please do,” said Marsh. “I look forward to seeing it. Can I show you
to the door?”
“We know the way.” Chloe did her best job of not running for the
door, although Sacco twice bumped into her from behind. He was
clearly spooked. So was she. The limo was waiting right out front, and
they climbed in, sweat turning chill at the small of her back. Even with
the privacy shield up between them and the driver, Chloe wouldn’t let
Sacco talk. There was no telling who might be listening now.
The sudden lack of options can either give rise to panic or focus
the mind on the task at hand. For Paul, who was by now grow-
ing more and more accustomed to having his entire life turned upside
down without warning, Marsh’s “deal” brought life into perfect focus.
He knew exactly what he needed to do, he just wasn’t quite sure how
to do it yet. But he’d figure that part out later. Right now he needed
to let his focus infect the others and stem the rising panic he saw in
all of them. Chloe and Sacco had returned silent and shaken. When
they explained what had happened, that Marsh was on to their little
trick, probably right from the beginning, Bee and c1sman had both
nearly passed out. Sacco wanted to run. C1sman was already halfway
out the door. Bee curled up in her chair and kept reminding everyone
that Sandee was still in jail and that it was all their fault. Even Chloe
wasn’t quite herself, seemingly lost in thought. He’d hugged her close
for a long time until he finally whispered in her ear, “We have to go to
New York.”
Once he said it out loud she understood, and then the pair of them