CON TEST: Double Life (31 page)

A chance. And only a chance.
It could happen
, Jared thought. In law enforcement anything could happen, beginning with the most important thing that the SS had on their side: the best men, devices and tactics to track a con man turned murderer.

No matter the tasks or obstacles they faced, Jared was up to the challenge, especially since Justice had called him out. Combine that with the fear of defeat and Secret Service Agent Jared Williams would use his acuity to come out a winner.

Jared pulled into the bank parking lot and looked over to Delia. They proffered each other encouraging nods and then hopped out of their vehicle. Jared’s blazer swayed in the wind exposing his holstered service pistol. Delia’s hair blew in the wind and stopped cold when they entered the bank lobby. The bank security rushed to them. They were startled. They had their share of being approached by any type of sentry. They flashed their badges and the security suggested that they lock their pistols in the trunk of their vehicle. They ignored the man and were ushered through the lobby by bank manager, Robert Roth.

Roth greeted them dressed severely professional. Not a hint of flamboyance in the gray, heavily tailored pinstripe suit. He stuck his hand out and shook both agents’ hands as they had a seat in his office.

Delia produced a court order from her attaché and slid it over to Roth. She watched him pick up his unifocal and then speed read over the order. Satisfied that he had read enough to get the point, she said, “We’re ordered to seize all assets of Mr. William Fortune.”

Roth felt he was being rushed and decided to read the document with a fine tooth comb. Agents or not, this was his playing field and his rules reigned supreme. After reading the three page order twice, he sat his lens to the side and looked at the agents stonily. He clasped his fingers together and let them fall onto the desk.

“
I wish I could help you, but--”

“
Uh, Mr. Roth,” Delia began, “I do not want you to presume that I am a stiff-dicked agent, but you have the court order. It’s clear and concise, and without error in language. We need for you to comply this instant, or I will take you for a little ride to SS headquarters,” she hissed calmly.

“
Agent Williams, I do not conform to idle threats. I have Mark Gargagos as a barrister that will sue the pants off of you and expose your stiff dick,” Roth replied and leaned back in his chair. He had a serious dislike for cocky agents. “I suppose it’s in your nature to be rude for the sake of justice, but before you interrupted me I was going to tell you that Mr. Fortune wired all of his money to a foreign bank.”

Both agents looked at each other searching for something they could not find. Their bodies dithered after hearing Justice, even if not used as a first name.

Jared broke the silence and said, “And, may I ask when that occurred?”

“
Three days ago.”

“
Do you have any idea why he closed his account and what was the net worth,” Delia asked lightening her tone.

Roth reached in his top drawer as he told the agents about his encounter with William and Silverstein the day before. He pulled out a folder marked with a long account number on the top. He opened it and flipped through several pages. “Between all of his accounts he had six million with us and a seventy thousand dollar BMW loan. His banker Mr. Silverstein was not in on the day that the transaction was made, and was quite irate when he was informed of the loss of business. However he was not as irate as Mr. Fortune, who was in the bank demanding to know what happened with his money. Roth paused and went into his desk drawer and pulled out a VHS tape with the flair of a magician. Ta-Da! “This tape shows him closing his account and his performance yesterday.”

“
So, what happened to the money? What was he claiming happened?”

Jared asked.

“
Apparently, he believed that the tape was altered and it was not him.”

“
So?” Delia asked wanting a detailed elaboration.

“
So,” Roth said. His words dripped sarcasm. “I sent the tape to a specialist to check its authenticity.”

“
And?”

“
It was forged. Compound that with a call I took routed from Silverstein’s secretary from the Bank of Luxembourg located in that nation, I surmised I had a problem at my bank and Silverstein was the problem. The foreign bank informed me that over $12 million were transferred to their bank and that two people called in without knowing the password placed on the account. I checked Silverstein’s log and found nothing suspicious, so I checked the associate who closed Fortune’s account and her account log showed that she had several wire transfers to the same routing exchange. Problem is she was out sick on the date the transactions were made.”

“
And, let me guess. Silverstein had access to her system?”

“
Don’t bother answering that,” Jared said. “Where can we find Silverstein?”

“
He did not report for duty.”

“
Can we see the tape to see Mr. Fortune?” Delia asked.

As they watched the TV monitor disbelievingly, shock ran across the agent’s face. They looked at footage of Justice Lorenzo conning another tender, greenhorn banker.

Delia and Jared both stood with synchronized precision. They requested Silverstein’s address and informed Roth that they would be in touch for a copy of the surveillance and other pertinent documents.

When they hopped into their vehicle, Delia told Jared, “I bet you dollar to donuts, Mr. Silverstein skipped town.”

“
I’ll bet you he is fluent in French, too!”

* * *

Donald Jacobson, entertainment editor of the LA Times, was an unorthodox man who somehow enjoyed attending celebrity parties. He sat around listening gallantly to gossip, so he caught, Jewel Blacksmith bragging about being William Fortune’s agent. He later heard new movie release gossip, sequel development gossip, and who’s zooming who gossip. Gossip! Gossip! Gossip! As one of the four readers of new novels for the newspaper, he could either offer his star, or not, after reading a novel. An author needed all four readers to offer their star to receive the famed four stars.

He enjoyed sitting in his elegant, futuristic inspired office writing pieces for LA’s finest publication. However, all of the stories that he crafted had to be put on hold while he investigated the identity of William Fortune. It had taken some time, but he approached the task methodically and after a year of research, he had found the agent of the man that had robbed his father and forced him to have a heart attack. Jacobson was well aware of the fact that William was intimately close to the illusive, Justice Lorenzo based on a scene in one of his movies which spelled out a crime that affected his father. He was right, he learned after he began to tail Fortune.

He had vowed to up the ante after the San Francisco Zoo stunt that Fortune pulled. And he had.

Don was at his chrome desk at the Times mulling over an extraordinary article he had written about William Fortune. His desk was covered with William’s novels, past articles and his research to track the man. He still was pissed about the zoo event, even though he had stolen William’s money. Proofreading his latest copy, he was interrupted by his telephone ringing.

He pressed the speakerphone button and upon hearing the caller he snatched up the receiver.

“
Sam, Rob Roth here. The Secret Service just left. They lingered on to every word and are en route to Bel Air to arrest Paul,” he said, snickering.

“
Good job, buddy. Good damn job. See you tonight at Touch.”

“
I’ll call Nyoka,” he said, lying. Robert Roth had no idea that Sam had already killed Nyoka LaCroix and that he was next.

SIXTY-EIGHT

L
undin donned one of Margarette’s pink Chanel suits and walked into the bank. She sat in the customer service area and rehearsed her opening lines. She wore an invisible ear piece, so that Amir could coach her. They could not chance an error. A single error could cost Lundin her freedom and William his life.

A banker invited Lundin to his desk and offered her coffee and donuts. She declined both and chose to get down to business. She slid the banker a copy of her business plan, which was to obtain funding for Zuzzio Model Management Experts to expand into a New York office.

The banker scrutinized the plan hastily. He was trained to catch the key information in a prospective business plan to determine the profitability of the plan. He smiled and folded his hands together on his desk. He told her that the plan was sound and was pre-approved online; however, he needed her to cover 30% of the requested amount.

Lundin was prepared for that. She went into her briefcase and retrieved a company check worth $400,000. She passed it to the banker and he asked her where she had gotten the check. She had not anticipated the question. Amir had, though, and he spoke the answer to the man’s query in Lundin’s ear. She repeated Amir’s words.

“
The check is from Harlow Pharmaceuticals Incorporated. They’re the maker of an expensive make-up line and are backing the proposed expansion considering we have a collection of models who would wear their make-up,” she replied eloquently. Her smile was warm and inviting.

In her ear, Amir told her that she had done a good job and encouraged her to relax. She had no intention of blowing her cover, but she sweated beneath her blouse and her hands were clammy.

“
That sounds like you already have a client in New York?” the banker asked.

“
Our firm is rich with New York clients who fly in our models from LA for a host of jobs,” she replied without Amir’s urging. He then spoke into her ear, and she said, “A New York office would not have to incur the additional $1,000 fee that we charge clients for airfare and lodging.”

“
Sounds promising to me,” the banker suggested. “Prior to me approving a loan for $1.3 million let me make a few calls.”

Lundin became uneasy. She was confident that this could be pulled off. She was glad that she had left the authentic ZME prospective business plan in her e-mail. Considering she had inside information about the financial status of her job, she was able to manipulate the financial balance sheets so that the company appeared to be worth more. Just when she thought the plan was running smoothly, the banker had called national information. He ignored the looping number printed on the check that would have directed the bank to Amir.

She wanted to bolt from the bank. Amir encouraged her not to panic. He told her he would get her out of the bank. She needed to let him exhaust all remedies.

The banker hung up the phone and told Lundin that the accounting department had not confirmed they had written a check to her company. More importantly, they did not make cosmetics. “Care to explain?” he asked her. Lundin did not reply quickly enough, so he picked up his phone and dialed a two digit number. Definitely he told Lundin, “I’m calling security!”

Amir screamed into her ear to abort her mission, drive three blocks, ditch the vehicle and change into her Islamic female garb to disguise herself until he scooped her. She ignored his command and swiftly pressed the button and ended the bankers call. She would handle the situation her way.

She looked at him saddened, and said, “Please, I am no thief, or crook. Take a look.” She passed her phone to her banker.

He panicked and thought he had heard of robbers passing notes, but never photos of tortured men to threaten the well-being of an uncooperative banker. He told her, “I’d do anything not to end up like that.”

“
That’s better.” She had not expected that to be his response, nor did she expect her rogue reply. She had no intentions of threatening the man with violence. She simply wanted sympathy for her cause. “Me and my crew,” she said, throwing a tinge of slang in her behavior, “have targeted you specifically. We know where you live and if you want to go there safely do as you’re told. Do you understand that?” He nodded, fearful of her lies. “I need you to deposit this check into the ZME account. Now that the cat’s out the bag, I can tell you that I have all of the phony information and ID that you’ll need to process this transaction normally. I need $100,000 in cash and that will be in all fifties and hundreds, non-sequential. Also wire 300K to this bank account,” she said, and passed him a slip of paper with an off-shore account number on it.

“
Miss, this check would not be cashable until it has cleared.”

“
Then you better make it transparent.” He huffed and she went on, in a way feeling bad for her harshness. “Listen, that was a photo of my kidnapped husband. I do work for ZME, and when this theft comes to light, I will not be punished for today’s acts. My employer would not press charges under the circumstances. I was ordered not to call the police or my husband would die after more grotesque torture. I am willing to give you $20,000 that I will not tell the police about if you help me get my husband. We can walk your cash out to the car right now.”

The banker had never been in that position, but he would take the cash, and do what the robber asked. And that was exactly what he would tell the police.

SIXTY-NINE

J
ared eased up to Silverstein’s Bel-Air digs and greeted red and blue flashing lights and wailing sirens. An ambulance was on the scene, and several dark cars lined the driveway with enough antennae to chat with Pluto denizen. Yellow crime scene tape had decorated the front entrance. CSI had worked the set. Detective Bowman approached the crime scene patrolman guarding the premises and nodded to him to allow Jared and Delia in. The sentry glanced at the agents’ badges and allowed them to lift the tape and proceed in the house.