“What kind of property?”
“He said villas and office buildings, mostly. Real expensive stuff.”
I said, “From what I understand, the American government established the bank with the thought of using it to pay for whatever goods and services it required here in Afghanistan.”
Page smiled grimly. “That’s something else I remember Pete saying. Something about our government being naïve. He said that we accepted referrals without properly vetting the top officials. He once said we were so naïve that we almost deserved to get swindled.”
“It sounds like we were getting referrals from the wrong people.”
“People in Washington were buddy-buddy with Karzai around then.”
Captain Page continued to talk, but by this time I knew what had been on Pete Hansen’s mind. Pete had been correct about our government being incredibly naïve. It sounded like a situation that could have been avoided by exercising only minimal caution.
Before leaving, I told Captain Page to give me another call if he remembered anything new. As I drove back to Eggers, I thought I at last knew why I was over here.
Colonel Pete Hansen is murdered by someone who wants to divert suspicion and make the murder look like a green-on-blue killing. The individual engages an unlikely killer. The motive for Pete’s murder relates directly to Pete’s investigation of the Kabul Bank, which has been cleaned out of over 900 million dollars deposited there by the American government.
An interesting question might be: How did Jerry Shenlee know something was amiss in the investigation of Pete’s murder?
Another question: Why did Jerry remove himself from the op and tell me someone would contact me?
I had an idea Captain Corley knew the answers to both questions. I figured she was running the op. I also figured she’d soon be contacting me. What I couldn’t figure was why she hadn’t gotten in touch already.
* * *
“I grew up in Akron,” Doug Greer said. “My parents divorced when I was six. My mother had a problem with alcohol. I enlisted in the Marines when I was seventeen,” Doug Greer continued as he sawed away on his steak. “Spent six years as a jarhead. Crazy, now that I think about it, but I figured almost anything would be better than putting in thirty years at a tire factory.” We were seated at a corner table in the ISAF Headquarters dining facility, a high-ceilinged room with a picture of the president on the far wall. An array of flags stood against an adjacent wall. Close to half the diners wore the uniforms of a variety of different countries. The rest were civilians.
“Looking back,” Doug said, “I have to say I was lucky. Spent some time with an intel detachment in the Mid-East. Was in Lebanon for a while. Back in the States, I was at Quantico, then was a DI at Parris Island. Great duty.” He grinned. “I probably shouldn’t admit it, but I liked the military. Even considered OCS for a while. Went to Ohio State on a football scholarship; Woody’s still a legend there, by the way.”
“Woody?”
“Woody Hayes, the coach. I can see you’re not a football fan.”
“I can take it or leave it.”
“But you mostly leave it.” He grinned. “Whenever I’d turn on a game, my wife would find me something to do. She’s my ex-wife now.” He took a quick swallow of Coke, smiled again. “No, football wasn’t the reason. I’m not that superficial.”
“If you were really superficial, you wouldn’t—”
“I wouldn’t admit it. You’re on to me, Alex.”
“And you wouldn’t be the Undersecretary.” When Doug put his finger to his lips, we both laughed. “Anyway, after Ohio State?”
“I applied to Georgetown. And amazingly, got accepted. More false modesty, sorry. How’s the steak, by the way?”
“A little chewy, otherwise okay.” After Doug said he’d mention that to the mess sergeant, I told him that I’d been talking to one of Pete Hansen’s colleagues at ISAF Headquarters. “I may be wrong, but I think there could be a connection between Pete getting killed and the fraud at the Kabul Bank.”
“The Kabul Bank is a disaster.”
“What can you tell me about it? I assume you’ve spent time over there.”
“Most government people over here spent time there. It wasn’t easy getting things going, establishing procedures and so forth.”
“I don’t suppose it was easy showing the Afghans double-entry bookkeeping.”
“No, it wasn’t, but the officials I dealt with had financial experience and for the most part were very sharp. I frankly couldn’t believe it when I heard it went bankrupt. How the hell could something like that happen anyway?” Doug popped an onion ring in his mouth. Smiling, he said, “I love these things.”
“There must have been some indication that things weren’t right.”
“There were, but the first audit gave the bank a clean bill of health.”
“I was thinking of going to the courthouse for the trial.”
“Don’t bother. You won’t understand a word. And the translation setup isn’t that good. The translator’s accent was so thick I had trouble understanding him.”
I said, “They loaned a lot of money to a small group of people. All insiders.”
“Interest-free.” Greer shook his head. “Unbelievable. In any case, the hanky-panky shouldn’t be hard to prove.”
“They were smart, but there’s always a paper trail. The bank was a Ponzi scheme from the get-go. For the entire time, they kept two sets of books.”
“Only two? Not three or four?” Shaking his head, Greer said, “You know, Alex, this is the kind of thing that upsets me—and a lot of other Americans as well. It’s the way the government spends but doesn’t get its money’s worth in return.” Pushing away his tray, he said, “What I do, I’m an adviser. We’re spending money here nation-building—roads, schools, homes for the people, you name it. I make recommendations, then the government acts on them.”
“Stan said you’ve been doing it for a while. And that you’re good at it.”
“I like to think I am. Anyway, has Stan given you the latest on Abdul Sakhi?” When I said he hadn’t, Doug said, “We think we’ve located him, or at least someone who knows where he is.”
“So we can find out why he was in the Headquarters building.”
Greer took another swallow of Coke. “He comes from a village out in Kunar Province, the Korengal Valley.”
“We’ve lost people out there.”
“That I know. The Korengalis ain’t the world’s friendliest tribe. Anyway, check with Stan. Right now we’re waiting on some intel, and hopefully we’ll be hearing things, maybe as early as this afternoon.” He shrugged. “The FBI has him in their database, and they say he’s okay.”
I said, “Getting back to the bank fraud. If they’re convicted, these guys will be going away for a while.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. The Afghan courts don’t look at corruption the way we do back home. The way some judges will see things, these are only guys who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.” Greer reached again for his Coke glass, shook his head.
“Something else, Doug. Those are American dollars we’re talking about. A judge over here isn’t paying taxes like we are. Some of them will think if we’re not exercising better control and paying attention to our money, we deserve to lose it.”
“A judge shouldn’t be thinking that way.” Greer smirked, then sighed. “But I know what you mean.”
When Greer continued to shake his head, I said, “I guess you know that one of the guys involved is President Karzai’s brother.”
“I heard that. So Afghanistan’s president may influence how the judges rule.” When I didn’t respond, Greer sighed. “Yeah, Alex, I guess I know all this, but it’s frustrating. It’s one of the things that makes my job difficult. That’s why I try not to think about it.” He took a quick look at his watch, then began getting slowly to his feet. “I have to do some shopping. I told a neighbor I was going to bring back some shawls from Afghanistan.”
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In the parking area, we shook hands and headed for our vehicles.
Lunch with the Undersecretary. I was definitely moving up in the world.
Back in my billet, I decided to write Irmie another e-mail. “Dear Irmie, I hope you’re having better weather than we’re having in Afghanistan. Today it’s gray and cloudy, and there’s slush on the ground from yesterday’s snowfall. I hope everything is fine. Did you get the e-mail I sent yesterday? Anyway, I want you to know how much I love you and miss you. Yours, Alex.”
Talking about the weather to the woman you love isn’t very satisfactory. I hated to have to think about it, but I had the depressing feeling we were beginning to drift apart, moving on two different wavelengths. Making me more depressed was the knowledge that it was all my fault.
Irmie had been busy making arrangements for our pending marriage. Although I hadn’t expected her to be happy about me postponing my trip to Munich, I hadn’t much considered the extent to which I was upsetting her life. She had asked for time off work, and during my stay, we intended to finalize the details—guest list, ceremony, reception, food, flowers. We intended to spend as much time as possible together, including a month-long honeymoon.
And we needed to make our plans for the future. Whether we intended to live in Europe or America was still up in the air. To be honest, I didn’t care where we lived, just as long as we were together.
An hour later, while I was drinking beer and conducting an online search of the Kabul Bank, my cell phone rang.
“I don’t know about you, Alex,” Wanda Hansen said, “but I’m thinking this isn’t the most exciting way to spend a Monday evening.”
Taking a long swallow from my bottle of Weihenstephan, I said, “Where are you?”
“I’m in my room in the Green Village. Where else would I be?” Before I could comment, she said, “Would you like to come over and keep a lonely girl company?” When I said, “Why not?” she said, “If you can bring a couple of sandwiches, I’ll go downstairs and bring up some beer.”
As I slipped on my jacket, I tried not to think how Irmie would react to me accepting Wanda’s invitation.
* * *
“The rooms here aren’t bad,” I said. It was an hour later, and I was in Wanda’s Green Village quarters. I’d just taken the last bite of a roast beef sandwich I brought over from the Camp Eggers chow hall.
Ignoring my attempt to keep the conversation impersonal, Wanda said, “You know, Alex, I almost fell over when I saw you here on Friday. I still can’t get over it.”
“You’re not the only one who’s surprised I’m here.”
Wanda crossed one leg over the other, a move that exposed quite a bit of smooth thigh. “I mean, I thought you were retired.”
“I thought I was, too, but I got unretired.” Because of Irmie, I was still having second thoughts about having allowed Jerry Shenlee to send me over here. I was already fearing an e-mail from Irmie saying our engagement was over. If it had been anyone else but Pete who’d been murdered, I would have told Jerry no—N-O!
Holding my beer bottle, I readjusted myself on the chair. Wanda was sitting opposite me. On the cabinet to my left was a large clock. The remains from our sandwiches were on two plates, which were alongside the TV. Thinking of Irmie, I said, “This is my absolute last assignment.” I took a quick swallow. “I mean it this time.”
Wanda smiled. “Famous last words.”
I also tried to smile but didn’t quite succeed. Pete’s unnecessary death continued to haunt me, and I wondered whether I’d ever be able to find his killer. Weighing on my mind was my relationship with Irmie. I wondered why she hadn’t taken the time to call or at least send an e-mail. I wondered what she might be doing at this moment. It was late afternoon back in Munich, and I assumed she was at work. By this time of day it would be dark, and the lights in her office would be on.
I said, “They keep calling.”
“Who keeps calling?”
“Good question. Sometimes I’m not sure myself.” On my last assignment, one year before, I was attached to one of our government’s smaller intelligence outfits, an outfit so small and secret I doubt more than a couple dozen people are aware of its existence. “This time Jerry showed up on my doorstep. I had no choice but to let him in.”
Wanda grinned. “Why no choice? Did he have a platoon of soldiers with him? Was he holding a weapon on you?”
Recalling my conversation with Captain Page, I made an effort to steer the conversation in a serious direction. “Getting back to what you said before, I think I may know why Jerry Shenlee asked me to come over here. I think there may be a connection between Pete’s killer and the work Pete was doing.” When Wanda’s expression clouded over, I said, “Pete was working on the failure of the Kabul Bank.” When she appeared even more puzzled, I said, “Did you know that?”
“No, not really. What’s the Kabul Bank? I suppose I should know.” Her expression became distant. “We saw one another so seldom in the past few years. Pete was home for two weeks, but that was close to a year ago.” She paused. “Alex, are you saying Pete’s murder wasn’t a green-on-blue?”
“I’m beginning to wonder. And that’s putting it mildly.”
“What do you mean?”
“It may have been carried out by someone hired to do the job. I’m beginning to think that.”
“In other words, not by this . . . Nolda person.” When I nodded, she said, “In some ways, that makes it even worse. You’re saying someone murdered my husband . . . intentionally.”
“From what I can see, Nolda wasn’t the type to do something like that.”
“Can you be sure?”
“It’s the way I read the guy.”
“And you now feel Pete was murdered because of what he was working on.” Wanda took a small sip of beer, carefully replaced the glass on the desk. “It’s interesting, but if you’ll pardon me for saying so, Alex, that sounds slightly . . . well, over the top.”
“Didn’t Pete ever mention the Kabul Bank?”
Wanda shook her head, gazed at the bottle as she emptied the beer into a glass. “He’d occasionally mention what he was doing, and I suppose he mentioned the bank, but I didn’t always pay that much attention.” After a pause, she said, “I admit that I was sometimes bored by what he’d tell me . . .”
“And you’d tune out.”
She nodded and said, “I suppose.”
“The bank went bankrupt,” I said. “The money that was in it disappeared. Hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“That much? A bank here in Afghanistan? You’re sure you’re not exaggerating, Alex?”
“It was a massive fraud. The bank officials have been charged. The trial is going on right now. Right here in Kabul.”
“And Pete helped convict them? Is that it? That’s what you’re saying?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible that he provided some evidence. I can’t figure Pete’s involvement.”
“Pete was a soldier. Why would the military be involved in a financial matter?”
“The money these people stole belonged to the American government.” I paused. “You’re right, Wanda. It’s normally not the job of the military to audit banks. But sometimes the military are in the best position to do something like that.”
“So you think Pete’s job was maybe to find out what happened.”
I stood up, went to the fridge. “Care for another beer?” When she nodded, I took out two. “One of the advantages of staying here is you can get alcohol. I hear they’re cracking down at Headquarters.”
Wanda smiled and nodded as she watched me pour two glasses. We both raised our glasses. “Cheers!”
Wanting to change the subject, I said, “How do you like Kabul?”
“I feel isolated here, cut off. The city seems okay, once you get used to all the checkpoints.”
“You should try to get around more.”
“It doesn’t seem all that dangerous, but I know things can happen .
. . from one minute to the next.” Suddenly, Wanda stood up, reached out, took my hand. Then she drew me to my feet and placed her hands around my waist. “I’d like it better if you were around, and if you would take me out and show me things.”
Then, standing on tiptoes, she placed her lips over mine and pulled me to her. I could feel the softness of her breasts, and they were sending a message. Quite simply, the message was, “I’m available.”
By quickly drawing away, I sent back a message of my own. I said, “This is so sudden.”
“Is it?” Still holding my waist, she smiled. “It shouldn’t be.”
By stepping backwards, I managed to untangle myself.
“What are you afraid of?” When I said, “Three guesses,” Wanda gave me a sudden shove. I wasn’t ready for that either, and I landed on the bed. Then, laughing, she fell on top of me. “My God, what do I have to do to get a response, Alex?”
“What kind of response?”
“Can’t you give me a hug?”
And so, as we lay on the bed, I dutifully gave Wanda a hug. And then she wanted a kiss. I gave her a quick one, then untangled myself and rolled away. A second later, I was back on my feet.
Wanda threw her legs over the side of the bed, looked up at me. “Since when are you such a . . . colossal bore?”
“Since always, it’s just that you never noticed it.”
In a serious tone, she said, “Well, I am bored in this place. There’s a swimming pool downstairs, and I’ve been swimming every morning. But I don’t have a car, which means I have to depend on taxis.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to go home. You were Pete’s wife. I was a close friend.”
“Oh, come on, Alex, I know all that. Please don’t remind me that I’m a widow now . . .”
As she sat on the side of the bed, she removed a tissue from a pocket and touched it to her eyes. For maybe two minutes she sniffled. “I’m sorry, Alex. Now I’m the one who’s being a . . . bore.”
I didn’t comment. Still standing, I emptied my beer glass with a long swallow. When I said, “I have to leave now,” Wanda nodded, then said in a quiet voice, “Good night, Alex.”
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