by Ben Follows
"What do you mean?" said Frankie.
"We were short on food, clothing, mattresses, and a dozen other things. There were local stores where all those things could be procured, but we didn't have the money, and the military back in the mainland wasn't interested."
"So you skimmed a bit off the top?" said Frankie.
"At first that's all it was," said Coleman.
The door opened, and Mason walked in with another cup of tea. He took the old one and walked out. Debra took it with a smile and sipped at it, dipping the tea bag in and out just as she had before.
"How did you do it?" said Curtis.
Coleman raised her eyebrows. "There were four of us. Myself, Mavis, Lawton, and Jason Wilson. We were varying degrees of smart and experienced, but none of us knew how to make money disappear so it couldn't be traced back to us. Mavis said he had a connection which could take care of it. We didn't ask who it was, although I always assumed it was his techie sister. We took enough money to save the base.”
"But it didn't stop at that," said Curtis.
"Don't get ahead of me," scolded Coleman. "We figured out how to skim enough off the top to cover our expenses without anyone asking any questions. I remember the first day we had the money, and we started spending it on improving the base. We were terrified. None of us could sleep. We would walk around the base and imagine enemies around every corner, convinced that every soldier on that base was going to turn us into the higher ups and we would find ourselves in Guantanamo Bay."
"And?" said Frankie.
Coleman shrugged. "It never happened. The soldiers loved their new mattresses, better food, and better all-around living conditions. Mavis was praised by his superiors for finding creative ways to use our budget. No one noticed the missing money."
"And then you wanted more?"
Coleman nodded. "We started testing it. Taking a bit more here and there. Mavis and his sister spread it out into Swiss accounts. We started charitable organizations that would support military heroes, and it was through those charities that we laundered the money and deposited it into our bank accounts. It even funded quite a few young military families and medical expenses for soldiers who were wounded in battle. We were able to justify to ourselves that we were doing a good thing. Didn't we deserve to enjoy some of the finer things in life” It was because of those actions that Mavis was going to be recognized."
Curtis nodded. "And now someone is coming after you."
"Yeah," said Coleman. "Now someone is coming after us. I can't reach Jason, and the other two are dead. I'm the only one left who can help you. I don't know what's going on, I just know it's to do with the money. Whoever wants their money back, they're coming for me."
Curtis leaned back in his chair and watched as Coleman lifted her cup of tea to her lips. This time, however, her hand shook, and a bit of hot tea splashed onto her knuckles. She flinched a little, then lifted the cup to her lips.
Curtis looked over at Frankie.
They had a lead.
Chapter 18
Natasha Nolowinski took a deep breath and stepped out of the cab into the humid Florida heat.
She looked up at the prison looming over her. It wasn't the same as the prison in Blind River, which had seemed like a combination of a dozen different buildings that had been haphazardly thrown together. This place was a fortress that looked like it could repel an entire military's force and survive with only minimal damage.
She walked up to the front gate and gave her name. The guard checked her identification against a list of approved visitors then gestured for her to follow. She was taken through a security checkpoint, then led further inside.
She was let inside a room with seats lined up in front of glass partitions, on the other side of which the prisoners would sit.
"He'll be brought in on the other side in just a moment," said the guard.
Natasha took her notepad out and made sure her pen had ink. She doodled in the margins of the page for a few moments until the door on the other side of the partition opened, and Sam Marino was led into the room.
He looked terrible. His eyes were sunken, he was nearing 300 pounds, and his hair had begun falling out. Although Natasha had never met the man face to face, she had always heard he was a man who cared a great deal about his appearance and would go out of his way to make sure he looked presentable soon after he awoke.
Now, he was a shell of his former self. Maybe his failure in Blind River had finally beaten him down and destroyed his last vestige of hope.
"What do you want?" he said as he dropped his large frame into the small chair, causing the chair to screech. "Who are you?"
"My name is Natasha Nolowsinki. I'm a reporter from Blind River."
Marino chuckled. "You're Natasha? You're Robert Randall's whore?"
Natasha breathed through her nose, controlling her anger. "I'm here to talk to you about Curtis Mackley and Frankie Lassiter."
"You're writing a book or something, aren't you?" said Marino. "About the true version of events? Some bullshit like that? As though anyone gives a shit."
"They do," said Natasha. "I have a huge advance."
"Good luck with that," said Marino. Then he sighed. "I can see what Robert saw in you. Or maybe I just haven't seen any women in such a long time that any old tramp gets me excited."
"Listen here, you old pig," said Natasha. "I know you hate Curtis Mackley more than anyone. He is currently in the middle of a case that will be getting national media coverage for the next day or so. Are you going to help me or not?"
Marino thought for a long moment. "You want to destroy him?"
Natasha smiled. She could see the spark of hatred in Marino's eyes. "I want to obliterate him. I want people to be ashamed to have the last name Mackley."
Marino grinned from ear to ear. "I like that. Let me tell you all about how Curtis's father did nothing to stop me taking over Blind River. Let me tell you about how Josh Mackley worked for me and was one of the most promising young criminals in my organization. And finally, let me tell you all about how Curtis Mackley doesn't deserve to be working for a neighborhood watch."
Natasha smiled and readied her notepad.
Chapter 19
Curtis walked into Lauren Mavis's house, where an FBI team had already gathered. He began walking around the interior of the house.
Curtis walked around the house while Frankie canvased the neighborhood, asking any of Lauren's neighbors whether they had seen anything suspicious.
It was a basic house in the suburbs. Although it was basic and could probably be afforded by most couples who were trying to start a family, it was clear that the interior had been designed by a professional designer. The entire house was on a single tech system which could be controlled from a smart phone, and there was a room off the living room with one of the most elaborate computer setups that Curtis had ever seen, not to mention the entire wall of dedicated to video games. Across from that was a bookshelf filled with books that looked hard to read and, based on their pristine condition, had never been read.
Teams were moving through the house with metal detectors, and Curtis was looking through the books when he came to a book that struck him as odd.
It was a history book about Francis Drake, the great explorer. He looked around the room and tried to figure out why he found it so strange. It wasn't until he looked at the rest of the books that he realized why it was odd. There were no other books about history whatsoever. There were books about technical computer specifications, coding, video games manuals, and how the economy and banking worked, but nothing about history except for this one incredibly specific book about a Spanish explorer from centuries ago.
He reached for the book and pulled it out. The weight of the book seemed strange.
He pulled the book off the bookshelf and opened it.
He smiled.
"Guys!" he shouted to the rest of the FBI agents. "Get in here!"
Mason, along with a dozen other agent
s, came into the room and looked at him.
Curtis smiled and raised his hand, in which he held the USB device which had been concealed within the carved-out book.
"I think this might be useful."
Chapter 20
Curtis and Frankie stood behind Mason as he slipped the USB into a secure FBI computer. The computer had been designed to deal with USB's so they could side-step any self-destruct functions like, for example, if they USB had been programmed to erase its data if it wasn't put into a specific computer.
An extensive list of files appeared on the screen.
"It's a big USB," said Mason. "Almost 50 Gigabytes. There's almost nothing but text documents on here either. Could take a while to comb through."
"How long?" said Curtis.
"I'll get the tech teams on it," said Mason. "Give me a few hours. Then, we should at the least know where the accounts are going and maybe where Lauren Mavis is headed."
"Keep us posted," said Frankie.
Frankie turned and talked to a few other agents who had been milling around the house.
Curtis looked down at his phone. He had had the ringer off while he had been searching the house. He had a few missed calls from Melanie and a few from Johnson. He elected to ignore the calls from Johnson--it was probably just him trying to be a father figure again--and called back Melanie, walking out to the car to be alone.
He raised the phone to his ear and crossed his legs, leaning back against the car as the phone rang.
"Curtis?" answered Melanie.
"Hey," he said. "What's up? You called?"
"it's probably nothing," said Melanie, "I just wanted to let you know."
"Let me know what."
"We're at the doctors' office. Sophie's fever got higher last night."
"Oh my God," said Curtis. "Is she okay?"
"Right now, she's fine," said Melanie. "We're sitting in the waiting room and waiting to see the doctor. She seems back to her normal spunky self. I want the doctor to make sure she's okay."
"Do you want me to come by?"
There was a long moment of silence. "No," said Melanie. " I don't think you would be able to get away from work that long."
"I'm sure that I--"
"Curtis," she said. "I've been with you and in this life long enough to know that this case is more important to you. It's probably nothing. I'll let you know if there's anything else you need to know or do."
The call ended, and Curtis felt a sinking feeling in his gut that he couldn't quite explain.
He put the phone down and walked back into the house, trying to focus on the case but finding it harder than before.
Chapter 21
Natasha was sitting in her hotel room a few miles away from the Florida prison. She was exhausted, but she refused to sleep until she was finished the article. She had received so much information about the Mackley clan and the Blind River case that she had no doubt someone would pick up the article.
However, she needed to get the article sent out before the news cycle shifted.
She looked over the article for the hundredth time. She changed a few words here and there, but for the most part, it was finished.
She composed an e-mail and sent the article to a dozen publications as well as her agent and publisher. She customized each e-mail to maximize her chances of getting the article published. She set up her phone so that it would let out a loud beeping when she received any new e-mails, then turned around and fell into bed.
She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Chapter 22
Lauren was the only woman sitting at the truck stop. Everyone else in the bar, save for the bartender, were truckers who looked like they'd been on the road for an eternity and desperately needed a break. The bar was clean, if nothing else.
She sipped at her beer and watched the grainy basketball game on the television above the bar. By now, the FBI must be closing in. She knew they were in her house and that they had found the USB in the bookshelf. She had been watching the whole endeavor from her phone via a camera hidden in the upper corner of the living room.
She wondered how long it would take the FBI techs to realize that there was nothing of value on the USB. There were a dozen USB's hidden around that house, and not only did you need the right USB, but you also had to put it into the right computer. However, it wasn't a method she had invented, and so she was confident the FBI techs knew about it.
She felt a shadow pass over her but didn't look up. All the truckers were sitting a few seats away from her, as though they could sense she didn't want to be interrupted or flirted with. She sipped on the beer and watched the television.
The newcomer pulled out a chair beside her.
She tried to give off a vibe that she didn't want to be talked to, what one of her old college roommates would have called "a bitch vibe."
"Nice to see you, Lauren."
Lauren turned her head toward the voice.
Jason Wilson was sitting beside her. He was smiling an old friend.
"Jason," she said with a smirk. "Nice to see you. What are you doing here?"
Jason smiled and turned to the bartender. He gestured for a beer, and she nodded. A moment later, the bartender left a can of beer and a glass in front of him. He sipped at the can and scrunched up his face.
"It's kind of warm," said Jason.
"What were you expecting?" said Lauren.
"Them to have a fridge." Jason looked around the bar and laughed to himself. "Maybe that's asking too much."
Lauren sipped at her beer. "I've been looking for you. Did you know that?"
"Yeah," said Jason. "I'm sorry about your brother."
"And Ralph?"
"And Ralph. I'm sorry. I know you were close to both of them."
"Sorry about what?"
"They have my daughter, Gillian. I didn't have a choice."
Lauren looked at him.
"Who has your daughter?"
"Raymond Eaton," he said, "and his mercenaries."
"Shit," said Lauren. "How did he track us down? How does he know that it was us?"
"I don't know," said Jason. "But he wants his money back."
"A lot of the money is gone."
"He wants what's left."
Lauren's hands shook. "You killed my brother."
"Not exactly."
Lauren waved down the bartender and got another drink, then turned to Jason. "Tell me what happened."
Jason sighed. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. Your brother killed himself. I was the last one who saw him alive, but he already had the rope and had written his note. He never got over the guilt of what we did."
"There wasn't a note."
"What?" said Jason.
"My brother didn't leave a note."
"Yes, he did," said Jason, sighing. "I almost forgot. I knew the FBI would be coming, and I couldn't let Eaton know Henry had taken his own life. I needed them to think I had done it."
"He left a note?"
Jason nodded and reached into his jacket pocket. He took out an envelope that was creased through the middle.
"I sealed the envelope," he said. "I didn't want anyone else to read it."
He held out the envelope.
Lauren took it from his hands and opened the envelope. The single page inside had a military header, and it was crisp and high-quality paper.
She unfolded the note and recognized her brother's handwriting. It was sloping cursive, the kind that used to be taught in schools. It was something Henry had always prided himself on.
Lauren took a deep breath and read the note.
"I'm sorry," the note read. "I'm sorry to my family, my friends, and subordinates. I'm sorry to everyone who thought of me as a hero. I'm a liar and a crook. It would be the greatest injustice for me to get recognized when so many others have done better. I love you all, and I'm sorry."
Lauren flipped over the page, but that was it.
The note was short and sweet, bu
t unmistakably written by her brother. She would recognize his swooping script anywhere. She lowered the piece of paper and looked down at the bar. She didn't know what to think.
"What do you want?" she said.
"Eaton has my daughter," said Jason softly. "They don't want me, and they don't want you. They want the money. Come with me and give them back whatever is left in all those offshore accounts that you have hidden all over the place."
"I don't have that much," said Lauren.
"I don't believe that," said Jason. "What was it by the time we stopped? A hundred million dollars?"
Lauren looked down at the bar and mumbled the number.
"What?" said Jason, leaning in.
"Three hundred forty-seven million." She looked up at the truckers, but none of them seemed to have overheard.
"Jesus," said Jason under his breath. He stared into his beer glass. "How much money was going through our base? That seems insane."
"Almost ten billion a year," she said. "We never took more than thirty million a year, it just added up over time. No one noticed, and it seemed like it was working. I suppose Eaton tracked us down. Do you know how they did it?"
Jason shook his head.
Lauren looked at the television, not absorbing the basketball game that was playing.
"I'm not coming with you," said Lauren.
"What?" said Jason. "I need you or my daughter is going to die!"
"No," said Lauren. "I'm going to be out of the country within twenty-four hours, and I'm never coming back. I have a plan."
Lauren went to stand, but Jason grabbed her arm.
"No," said Jason. "You're not leaving."
Lauren looked down at his hand.
"Jason," she said, glancing behind her at the bartender who was chatting with one of the truckers. "You're hurting me."
Jason reached behind his back and pulled out his gun, which he placed on his knee so that Lauren's body and the bar was blocking the view of it from anyone else.