by Dirk Patton
“So why didn’t someone come looking for it?”
“Where would they start?” Brody asked, raising his arms as he pointedly looked at the towering mountains and dense forest.
“So, they just wrote it off?”
“Maybe they look at it as the cost of doing business. Kind of like a retail store knows there’s going to be a certain percentage of their stock get shoplifted. As long as it’s not too much, they don’t have a lot of incentive to spend big bucks on security.”
They stopped speaking when Brody’s radio began beeping for attention. He glanced at the screen before answering.
“Eloise,” he said, pressing the transmit button.
Katarina looked down into the ravine. A woman wearing a white crime scene suit was looking up at them, a radio to her mouth.
“She wants us to come down.”
“Why?”
The volume had been low and Katarina had been unable to hear the conversation. She spoke a little too sharply and Brody gave her a look.
“Well, I’d guess there’s something she wants to show us.”
Brody stepped forward to descend into the ravine, grasping the rope the Search and Rescue team had set up to assist with negotiating the slope. Pausing, he turned back and frowned at Katarina.
“Coming?”
She was rooted in place, worry that her secret had been discovered flowing through her. Forcing a smile, she followed her partner and they carefully began descending. Eloise met them at the bottom of the rope.
“Couldn’t have found rougher terrain?”
“Figured you needed the exercise,” Brody shot back. “Wouldn’t want your ass to get too big for that stylish outfit you’re wearing.”
Eloise smirked and flipped him off. She routinely competed in marathons and there wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on her body. The climb down into the ravine, loaded with gear, hadn’t even raised her heart rate.
“So,” she began, leading them under a shelter to get out of the rain. “Here’s what I’ve got so far. There’s blood in the cockpit, on the controls and the pilot’s seat. It’s pretty degraded, but there were some areas where it was protected from the weather and I should be able to pull some DNA.”
“Will it be good enough to compare to our victim?” Brody asked.
“Maybe. Probably. I’ll know more once I get back to the lab. And, there’s this.”
She held up a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside was a cheap phone. Katarina leaned in for a closer look.
“What’s that all over it?”
“Moss. Fungus. Algae. Same things that are growing on most of the interior surfaces. It was in the cockpit, under the co-pilot’s seat, wedged in the mounting bracket.”
“Prints?”
She looked at Brody and shook her head.
“Nope. Any that may have been there will be completely degraded by the biological layer growing on it. But, as long as it wasn’t physically damaged, I should be able to retrieve any data that’s on the SIM card.”
She tucked the bagged phone into a voluminous pocket and looked at her tablet.
“Now, the sexy part. Money. Eleven nylon duffel bags, each containing two hundred and fifty bundles of cash. Each bundle is secured with a rubber band and wrapped in plastic. I opened one at random and counted one hundred, hundred-dollar bills. In that sample, the serial numbers were non-sequential.”
Brody was staring at her in fascination while Katarina tried to conceal her interest.
“How...” she and Brody both began to ask at the same time.
“That one bundle is ten grand. Assuming each bundle is the same, which is probably a safe assumption, there is two point five million in cash.”
Brody let out with a low whistle and looked at the duffels which had been stacked on a plastic sheet outside the plane.
“In each bag,” Eloise said, smiling when she earned a startled look from both of the agents.
Katarina was unable to speak, her bowels threatening to turn to water as she grasped the enormity of her situation.
“In each?” Brody asked in a quiet voice. “So... Jesus Christ... we’re talking...”
“Twenty-seven point five million dollars. In cash,” Eloise said, turning her head to look at the pile of bags with him. “I’ll confirm once we get it back to Seattle and open each bundle, but I don’t expect to find anything different. Someone went to a lot of effort to count, stack, band and wrap each bundle. I’d bet they’re all precisely the same.”
“Drug money,” Katarina blurted.
“The top of a very short list of possibilities that could explain this much cash in the middle of nowhere,” Eloise said with a nod.
Brody lit a cigarette without taking his eyes off the duffels.
“Gotta call Pettigrew,” he finally said.
Katarina looked at him in surprise.
“What?”
“You’re right, Kat. This has to be drug money. Which means the DEA might be able to give us an idea of who it belongs to.”
Panic flushed through her and she could feel her face grow hot. She covered by making a production of fanning at Brody’s smoke and moving upwind.
“Those guys are dicks. We don’t need them fucking around with our case.”
“That’s for the boss to decide,” he said, looking at her through a wreath of smoke.
Katarina didn’t respond. As much as she didn’t want another federal agency poking around, she didn’t have a valid reason for resisting. Struggling with the fear of being discovered, she slowly nodded agreement. Brody gave her a long look without saying anything else.
Four
Katarina sat on her back porch, sipping a glass of wine and watching the rain. She knew she should have been sleeping but was anxious about tomorrow. Pettigrew had agreed with Brody’s assessment that the DEA should be brought in, and they were meeting with a pair of agents the next morning. So, instead of being in a warm bed, she sat with her feet curled beneath her, ignoring the damp, night air.
Matt, her husband, had been home when Brody dropped her off. He’d been watching television when she walked in and started up the stairs without a word. Halfway, she’d paused. Turned and walked back down to the living room, staring at him until he’d shut the TV off.
“I went to a lawyer,” she’d said, somewhat timidly.
“You what?”
Katarina had taken a calming breath before plunging ahead.
“I went to a lawyer and had divorce papers drawn up. I’m hoping you’ll do the right thing and take all the debt you ran up to start your practice.”
“What the hell, Kat? Is there someone else?”
Katarina’s mouth had fallen open in shock, then the emotions of the day had boiled over.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Someone else? Do you have any idea what I have to do tomorrow?”
Matt had gotten to his feet, breathing hard and staring at her angry eyes.
“I have to go into my boss's office and tell him I'm about to lose everything! My house, my car... Do you know what that means?”
“Kat, it’s not---”
“---Do you fucking know what that means?” she’d screamed as tears began to dampen her eyes. “It means my career is over, Matthew! Done! All because...”
She’d stopped and glared at her husband. After a moment he’d stepped forward and begun to reach for her, but she’d violently twisted away.
“Don’t even!” she’d hissed.
Spinning, she’d hurried into the kitchen. With shaking hands, she’d poured a glass of wine then turned to see Matt standing behind her. His face was flushed with anger.
“You’ve lived the life, too, Katarina. Just look at this goddamn house! Look at that hundred-thousand-dollar SUV you drive every day! You can forget it if you think I’m paying for your lifestyle!”
He stalked away before she could respond, stomping up the stairs. A moment later came the sound of the master bedroom door slamming. After several deep breaths, she
’d taken the wine out onto the back porch.
When they’d first met, two years ago, Matt had been part of a large, successful therapy practice in Wallingford, one of Seattle’s more affluent neighborhoods. Ten years her senior, his polished manners and appearance had swept her off her feet. After a brief courtship, they’d married and honeymooned in Bora Bora. Life had been a fantasy come true for the daughter of a small-town police chief from West Virginia.
They had a fabulous home, expensive clothes and Matt thought nothing of ordering the most expensive wines and champagnes on the menu when they went out to dinner. He drove a Porsche, exchanging it for the newest model each year and he’d proudly handed his bride the keys for a Range Rover. Katarina was living a life she’d only ever seen glimpses of on television. Until the day she stopped to fill up with gas and her credit card was declined.
After a bitter argument, she’d discovered that they had been living well beyond their means, despite a combined income that should have provided a more than comfortable lifestyle. She also learned that Matt had left his job because he was unhappy at having been passed over for a full partnership.
Maxing out every available line of credit, he’d rented an office suite in a luxury high-rise in neighboring Bellevue, then spared no expense in furnishing and decorating. When he was done, the space was befitting a busy therapist with patients whose bank balances were stratospheric. Unfortunately, Matt didn’t have any of those and all they were left with was a second and third mortgage on their house and nearly half a million dollars in revolving debt. The interest alone was more than what Katarina brought home on her government salary.
Their relationship suffered, quickly devolving into what felt like two armed camps sharing the same bed. Katarina grew desperate as the bills kept coming without any income from Matt’s new practice to pay them. Compounding interest and late fees quickly added up and she knew it was only a matter of time before they lost everything. But before that happened, one of the FBI’s routine checks of her personal finances would reveal the truth.
FBI agents are expected to maintain their personal lives as meticulously as their professional ones. There are several simple reasons for that. A law enforcement officer who is in financial trouble is more susceptible to being corrupted in exchange for money than one who is not. This poses a potential threat to the integrity of investigations ranging from simple bank robberies to matters of national security.
Additionally, if an agent is sloppy in their personal life it can be used by a defense attorney to paint them as a shoddy investigator who may very well have taken some shortcuts. And if they’re really sharp, that portrayal can seed doubt in a jury’s mind and potentially result in not-guilty verdicts. When the state of her finances was discovered, and it would be, her security clearance would be suspended. She would still have a job, but the bureau wouldn’t let her come near any investigation.
She’d explored every option to straighten out the mess Matt had created. Selling the house wasn’t a possibility. With three mortgages, they owed more than it was worth, even in the red-hot Seattle real estate market. Their vehicles were leased, so neither could be sold for cash. Quickly, she’d narrowed their choices down to only one. Bankruptcy.
Matt had come unglued the evening she’d broached the subject. Surprising her, he’d ranted and raved about how she was panicking when there was no need. New patients were coming daily, and he was on the cusp of finalizing a referral agreement with a large hospital. If only she’d be patient and give him some more time.
Katarina had relented. She knew he was lying but recognized the futility in continuing to argue. The following day, exhausted and out of patience, she’d gone to a divorce attorney. He’d listened attentively, and the news hadn’t been good. Washington State divorce laws were governed by a community property statute, which meant half the debt was Katarina’s and simply divorcing her husband wouldn’t make it go away.
Now, as rain softly pattered on the patio roof and gurgled in the downspouts, her mind raced. Two-point-five million dollars in untraceable cash. More than enough to get them out of debt and save the marriage. But she was unsure if remaining married to Matt was what she wanted. There was nothing other than foolish optimism that made her think anything would be different. With a clean slate, he would just start running up more debt to live the lifestyle he felt he deserved. She didn’t understand it and wasn’t at all sure she wanted to continue trying.
But that cash would also allow her to avoid bankruptcy once the divorce was final, with enough left over to have a comfortable financial cushion for the rest of her life. If she was careful and found a way to launder it before any was used. What she needed was a business...
Katarina paused with the wine glass half way to her mouth. Could it work? Slowly, she lowered the glass and sat forward in intense thought. Remaining unmoving for several minutes as she played out the scenario in her mind, she suddenly leapt out of the chair and rushed through the house to the garage. The Range Rover started easily and she backed out into the rainy night.
Traffic was light in deference to the hour and she quickly worked her way out of the neighborhood and onto I-5. Her phone shrilled, startling her and she checked the caller ID. Matt. He must have heard the garage door and was calling to ask what she was doing. She started to answer, prepared with an excuse for where she was going at nearly midnight, but pulled her hand back and let it ring until her voice mail picked up.
Heading north, she followed the same route Brody had taken earlier that morning. As she drove, she turned the plan over in her mind, identifying potential pitfalls and deciding how best to avoid them. By the time she approached Index, she was all but convinced her idea would work.
Stopping in town, she brought up a map of the area on her personal phone. Several minutes of searching and she spotted a forest service fire road that passed within a couple of miles of the crash site. Following the app’s spoken directions, she found it without any difficulty and bounced off the pavement.
The fire road was nothing more than a break cut through the surrounding forest that was large enough for fire trucks to navigate. No improvements had been made and the ground was soft but presented no challenge for the Range Rover. She drove a few miles then braked to a gentle stop. Cell signal had been left behind, rendering the navigation app unusable, but she’d been careful to identify a sharp bend as her destination and it was directly to the front, visible in the headlights.
Shutting down, near perfect darkness descended. The rain had relented, but dense clouds blocked any moonlight that might have made her job easier. Taking a steadying breath, Katarina stepped out and gently leaned against the door to engage the latch without making much noise.
She stood motionless for a minute, maintaining contact with the cold metal of the SUV. The forest was almost perfectly silent, the ticking of the Range Rover’s cooling engine loud in the night. She clicked on the flashlight and moved into the trees.
Five
Katarina stood in the forest, staring down at a duffel bag. It was partially concealed inside a rotting stump and it had taken some effort to find the specific spot in the dark. The rain had returned while she was making the hike from the Range Rover, adding to the difficulty.
This was the moment of truth. She could walk away and leave it untouched, perhaps never to be found. But even if it was, who could say the missing pilot hadn’t taken it with him and come this way? The fact that this one bag of cash wasn’t with the others could never be attributed to her. As long as she didn’t carry it out of the forest.
Having second thoughts about what had seemed like such a wonderful idea, she lost all track of time. Unmoving, she stared at what she’d come to think of as her salvation. And why the hell not? It’s not like she was stealing from anyone. Anyone that mattered, that is.
Is taking money from someone who got it by peddling poison and death really that bad? It’s not like they went to work and earned it. Besides, it had been out here a long
time and had to have already been written off. If she didn’t take it, it would just lay here and molder away to nothing.
Before she could think of another reason to walk away empty handed, Katarina grabbed the handle and hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. No longer hesitating, she turned and began retracing her path back to the fire road.
“Is it worth it, Agent Daniels?”
Katarina let out an involuntary scream, dropping the bag as she whipped around. Her pistol was instantly in her hand as it came up to meet the one which held the flashlight. It took several seconds for her to recognize the man who stood unblinking in the brilliant beam of light.
“Mister Zophiel?”
Her weapon didn’t waver off target. He watched her for a long moment before taking a step closer.
“Don’t come any closer!”
“I mean you no harm, Katarina.”
Her eyes narrowed in concern as she took a step back and quickly glanced around to make sure someone wasn’t sneaking up on her while the man was holding her attention.
“How do you know my name? My first name.”
“I know everything about you, Katarina,” he said in a calm voice, apparently unconcerned with the weapon pointed at his heart. “And there is something I need to show you.”
“I don’t think so. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
She flicked her eyes to the bag on the ground, trying to decide the best way to retrieve it without exposing herself to an attack.
“What is in there will not solve your problems,” Zophiel said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just found that and was taking it to be logged into evidence.”
Zophiel gave her a sad smile and shook his head. Holding his hands out where she could see both were empty, he carefully reached into a pocket and retrieved his pipe. The stink of sulfur was strong for a moment when he struck a match, then the comforting scent of cherry-vanilla tobacco wafted across her.
“You’re not a good liar, Katarina. Never were. That’s why you were always in trouble with your father.”