Frank Madsen didn`t look good and didn`t make eye contact before he took the seat directly opposite Arnie, his handcuffed fists placed on the table between them, head slowly rising to meet the visitor`s gaze.
“Well, well, Arnie Krench! The man who found me this five star accommodation, good to see you, it`s been a while.”
“Just part of a team that took you down, Frank. You booked this place all by yourself.”
Arnie noticed Madsen`s hair had thinned, the bright blue eyes more sunken but still giving the appearance of a friendly rogue, something that often got people on his side. Even the judge who had handed down a sentence that was way south of lenient.
“Can`t be a social call after all these years, so what can I do for you, Arnie?”
“Help put my curiosity to rest. Tell me how the hell you managed to pull off that Venezuelan oil scam, we never did figure it out, at least not all of it.”
“Yeah, but you figured enough to throw my ass in jail.”
Arnie had been careful to keep his tone friendly, just sufficient to not sound patronising. “But there was one part we overlooked, and when you made your big mistake we never went back to it. You copped a plea and that was that.”
Madsen paused a moment then broke a wry smile. “Don`t reckon this is down to your sense of curiosity, Arnie, how about you tell me the real reason.”
“Okay, Frank, straight up, I have a problem to solve. And if I can, then it might help bring a sense of justice to some grieving parents. Trouble is I need to bend the rules to do that.”
“Bend them or break them?”
“Okay, break them.”
“And I should just help you do that?”
“It`s not about me. You should help these people get some peace of mind. I never had you down as the bad type, Frank, so how about you help me cut them a break.”
“Fair enough, what do you need?”
“Need to know how you got such secret information from that off-shore bank.”
“You kidding me?”
“Nope.”
Madsen returned a disbelieving look. “What the hell are you up to, Arnie? That was no chicken-shit operation, took a lot of nerve to pull it off. Went beautifully as you know, at least until I messed up with the off-shore transfers.”
“Just need the part where you got the bank account details, how the hell did you do that?”
“Not that difficult. You guys were looking in the wrong place, assumed it was a high-tech thing. It wasn`t. It was just exploiting good old fashioned human nature, with a slice of coercion thrown in. You guys should have asked a crook, not each other.”
“What`s that supposed to mean?”
“Means it was simple, obvious to any criminal mind, but I guess not to you good folks at the Justice Department.”
“Then it should be simple to tell me how you did it.”
“Sure it is, but you`ve yet to tell me why I would do that, because helping out people I don`t even know ain`t going to cut it. And that`s assuming I buy into that being your reason, which I don`t.”
“Was hoping you would do the decent thing, Frank, and my problem is that I can`t do much for you. I`m not with the Justice Department anymore, got out of there a while back. Still have some good contacts though and a letter from them to the parole board could help you get out early. At your parole meeting I can vouch for you, help sway them in your favour. It`s all I can do.”
Madsen allowed himself another wry smile. “And of course if I decide not to tell you then you might turn up at my parole hearing with the opposite intent. Am I right?”
“Not that type of guy, Frank, so no I wouldn`t do that. All I`m asking is for you to help me do a good thing, but if you don`t you don`t, no hard feelings.”
“Always had you down as a straight-up guy, Arnie, showed me some respect, so how can I refuse. I`ve got two years to go, so the chance of getting that cut in half sure is an interesting proposition. Do I have your word that you`ll come through for me?”
“You`ve got it, Frank, I`ll be there.”
“Then looks like we`ve got a deal.”
“Okay, then let`s hear it. How the hell did you get that account information?”
It took Madsen just over a minute to lay it out, leaving Arnie looking puzzled. “That it, Frank, all there was to it?”
“That`s it.”
“Simple as that, and it all worked out?”
“Sure did. Human weakness, or more accurately, good old fashioned fear, always a powerful persuader.”
“Could have destroyed the guy, Frank.”
“Wouldn`t have let it go that far.”
“All the same, it`s pushing the boundaries of human decency.”
“Not saying it`s moral, but if you want that information then you`ll have to trade some integrity for it.”
“I can see how it could work alright, but it relies on a big assumption, that one of these people has that kind of weakness.”
“Come on, Arnie, make the bait irresistible and you`d be surprised how many will reach for it. And don`t think you can succeed on something like this by good old fashioned bribery. Not only would it cost too much and is open to a double cross, but you could get set up, have the authorities throw your ass in jail. And down these parts that could be for a real long time.”
“Suppose I can`t find a mark who`s willing to bite, then what?”
“Hang it up, you`re done, just walk away.”
“Then my whole investigation folds. You got a plan B?”
“Nope.”
“So the question is do I take the chance?”
Madsen leaned forward and whispered. “The question should be as always: what if I get caught?”
Arnie knew that was the kicker, especially with such a plan, one that sounded simple but depended on a lot of factors falling into place, and of that aspect he was more than a little skeptical. But this was his only option, the investigation at a dead end and without a new lead it meant a return to who knows what as regards his future. The logic was clear, the choice a crazy one, and what he had now re-discovered in himself was something he missed; the thrill of the chase. Up against that was the simple point that Madsen had made: what if he got caught?
CHAPTER 12
The plan not being his own idea had made him nervous, but at least it was tried and tested, though that was according to a guy who had every reason to con him. Arnie could see that the plan was plausible, involved no violence, and the plug could be pulled at any time if things started to go wrong. That was assuming it took place in his own back yard, not Panama City, which would mean more danger and consequences he didn`t want to think about. So an exit strategy was crucial. Trouble was, he didn`t have one. If the Panamanian authorities got involved then he was toast. Even the power of Senator Carlucci would be of no use when dealing with a Central American government.
All through the flight from New York to Panama he had re-worked the plan, checked tactics, changed time lines. But in the end it all came down to things going his way, no screw-ups or bad breaks. And as to the alternatives, like most plan B`s, there wasn`t one.
As in many poor countries the drive from the airport was through territory that failed to impress, run-down areas, industrial parks, then suburbs that were both good and bad. Shiny new buildings sat beside old concrete ones that were stained with pollution, occasional rows of brightly painted houses offering some respite from the drabness.
Now the airport cab hit the metropolitan area and Arnie`s interest picked up as he checked the street layouts of Panama City. It was a more modern place than he had expected, with tree lined avenues framing ritzy apartment blocks, big name stores displaying luxury goods, sidewalks clean and tidy. By the time he reached downtown it had begun to look like any U.S. city, not just the buildings but the people
, a rich mixture of characters, all looking like they had a sense of purpose in their stride.
Next morning, having chosen a hotel within walking distance from the target bank he set out on a slow walk, the heat and humidity one factor, nervousness the other. Having to operate in a foreign country once more he had psychologically prepared himself for, but that was from the safety of U.S. soil, and now the atmosphere of the place was beginning to bite.
He arrived for his appointment at the bank some ten minutes early, his meeting with the general manager pre-arranged by one of Senator Carlucci`s business contacts.
The manager, a rotund individual in a tight suit, greeted Arnie with a business-like welcome and some brief chit-chat, before getting to the point.“We have six officials who specialise in clients such as yourself, Mr.Krench and I am sure we can find one that will meet your specific requirements.”
“I`m a cautious man, Mr. Cabrera, and I represent important people who have substantial funds that need total protection. So I would like to meet all six of your off-shore account officials in order to choose who will best suit my needs. An informal introduction will be sufficient.”
”Of course, Mr.Krench, they operate from the third floor. Please follow me.”
The elevator ride was quick enough not to require any small-talk, the doors soon opening onto an ultra modern area that took up the entire floor and was sectioned into a number of glass fronted sub-offices. Glued to their computer monitors, no one seemed to take notice of their arrival, the single secretary at the far end remaining in her seat as Cabrera motioned to her.
After a brief introduction to five of the account supervisors, Arnie was finally introduced to the sixth, who invited him to take a seat in his private office. Saul Garrido was the oldest of the group, Arnie having him down as being in his mid fifties, and had already judged the man to be a shrewd operator. With Cabrera remaining outside the office, Garrido wasted no time. “I`ll start by giving you some information on the special services I can provide, Mr.Krench. Your details, should you opt to use us, will not be required at this stage.”
“Special services?” Arnie said.
“The things we can do that other banks cannot, Mr.Krench.”
“Such as?”
“Apart from keeping client`s money safe and secret, we can also help with gaining a handsome return, a very handsome return in certain circumstances. And our access to seven different off-shore tax havens is why we are the biggest, most successful bank in Panama. But your presence today suggests you are well aware of that so do you have a particular concern you would like to discuss?”
Arnie knew how the tax avoidance industry worked but realised he needed to support his role by at least making a pertinent point. “Only one thing bothers me and my associates, and that`s the U.S. government. What happens if they come after you, demand information on an American citizen`s account?”
A smile appeared on Garrido`s face. “Then they would be coming after themselves, Mr.Krench and that`s why they never succeed. It`s all for show to the American public. They know that by the time our legal defences have been broken down we will have erected new ones, that`s what top law firms are for.”
“But if all that changes, what then?”
Another smile preceded Garrido`s reply. “It can change all it likes. We have a whole network of legal defences to protect clients like you, Mr.Krench, and if they are breached, like I said, we build some more. Private money has been ring-fenced against government threats for a very long time now, buying itself political protection and reinforcing it with the lawyers. A powerful combination. That`s what we can do for you, provide total protection.”
“A system designed by the very people entrusted to prevent such a system.”
“A service like any other, Mr.Krench. Market capitalism at its best.”
Arnie could feel the contempt rise in him, not just at the blatant arrogance of a man proud to be part of a system set up to defraud taxpayers the world over, but the smug look that went with it. Of the six targets he hoped this was the one, but his gut told him otherwise. The younger managers were a better bet.
Back in his hotel room Arnie laid out the six business cards. If it turned out that none of the account managers was suitable then a new strategy would be required, and that would kick things to a level he had already drawn a line at. Success in this investigation would need devious and unsavoury tactics but only up to a point, and who he could find to further his strategy was now the challenge.
The next day his first meeting was with a private investigation firm specialising in corporate cases, and it hadn`t gone well. There had been too many questions he was unwilling to answer and at this level that was unlikely to change. The alternative was to slide down the morality ladder and find somebody who functioned at street level. It would be a step in the wrong direction but one he now knew was inevitable.
As a seedy private eye, Jonas Delgado had an office that looked impressive, a surprise given the run-down back street it was in. Expensive floor tiling, real leather seats and a reception that wouldn`t look out of place in a top hotel. Compared to his plush surroundings, Jonas Delgado was a disappointment. The well-tailored suit and bright tie sat uneasily on a thin, gangly frame that was topped by a large head, his sour expression unhelpful to a face that was hard to like.
“So, Mr.Krench what can we do for one of our American friends?”
Arnie had the feeling straight off, the one he was rarely wrong about, but he knew the next guy wouldn`t be much different so he stayed with it. Private investigators at this level, in this city, would all be the same: shifty, distrustful, and looking to exploit any edge they could. And Arnie knew his tactic, to follow a set of six bankers and find a weakness to exploit, would have the word opportunity written all over it. These P.I.`s were on their own territory and would be real smart operatives, all looking for a pay-off greater than their fee. He knew that just by looking at Delgado. But under the circumstances he had no choice.
It was six days before Delgado found the right weakness and it turned out to be the guy Arnie least expected. It was one of the middle aged managers, married, five kids, and with an appetite for something different. So Arnie had his mark and now it was time to find the bait.
It was an arena he had worked before, during his P.I. days after leaving the Justice Department, and one he hated. Seedy nightclubs in big cities had always been bad places, but today`s weirdoes he found to be on a whole new level. Their depravity shocked even him, all sense of morality surrendered, nothing beyond limits. But that`s where he would find who he now needed.
It was just after 11.00pm when he hit the first nightclub and gone midnight when he left the second. No target had been identified and it was the third venue before he knew he had the right place: the whole range of sexual preferences on offer, cross-dressers, transvestites, assorted others, all looking for business.
On payment of a $50 bill he had gotten access, the doorman having thrown him a suspicious look, as if about to refuse entry. Inside, the humidity and heat of the night was no match for the air conditioning, a blend of alcohol and body odour soon hitting him. The trawl through men and women jiving to Latino music had required him to act differently, not because he was in a nightclub, but due to the type of people. It was no place for imposters or thrill seekers, only genuine clients, ones who were the real deal and totally without restraint when it came to hedonistic commitment.
Who were the men and who were the women was not something that was supposed to be of relevance in a place like this and Arnie knew he would have to be careful. These types of establishments were known the world over, but looking for his particular kind of bait meant an added danger. After an hour of cruising, avoiding all offers, Arnie realised the limitations of operating in such circumstances and ended up with a $100 payment to the floor manager to get him the package he wanted.
The alleyway at the back was not only an accepted area for business but the only option if conversation was required. It was like back-alleys the world over, stinking dumpsters, overturned trash cans raided by scavenging cats, distant street noise the background music to a threatening atmosphere.
Arnie had that kind of face, not expressive and with no hint of threat, but tonight that needed to change. Putting as much tension into it as he could, he screwed up his features and tried to look menacing. “Let`s get this straight, kid. You fuck with me on this deal and I`ll come after you, cut you into pieces, you get that?”
Though he looked like a kid he was nearly twenty six years old and a veteran of his occupation, the look in his eyes fearful but controlled. His English was bad. “Pay me like you say and I do as you say.”
“Half the cash tomorrow when we meet and go over your instructions, half when you complete.”
“You pay me something now!” demanded the kid.
Arnie knew they would all be the same, desperate for money, do and say anything to get it. Give just an inch and all control was gone. He needed to make a point, a powerful one, no other way when dealing at this level. With only a moment`s thought he made the commitment, thrusting his hand forward and grabbing the kid`s throat in a vice-like grip, lifting his slim body off the ground and pinning it to the wall. “Bad call, kid, you`re fucking with the wrong guy and on your way to hell if you try that shit with me. Now one more time, are you up for this and on my terms?”
Barely able to breathe, the kid struggled to signal his agreement as Arnie released his grip.
“Okay, I do as you say, mister.”
With no let up in his threatening tone, Arnie fired his last instruction. “Tomorrow, here at mid-day, you and no one else, you get the details and half the money. Got that?”
Averting his eyes, the kid rubbed his neck and nodded acceptance as Arnie stared him out for a few seconds before heading off down the alley. Almost at the end he stopped and spun around as a sudden noise startled him. The side door of the nightclub had flow open, the light showing up the unfriendly face of a man who shouted abuse at the kid. That they all had pimps, Arnie was in no doubt, but he had hoped tomorrow`s daylight meeting would give the kid an option to chance it, the reward a big one, way higher than a normal night`s worth of hustling.
The Cygnus Agenda Page 10