Wild Card

by Mark Henwick

  Borders stirred uncomfortably. It wasn’t just the issue of confidentiality. In his own way, he’d been as taken in by Sloan as Mrs. de Vries. And he should have talked to her, rather than Sloan. He nodded.

  “And you presumably queried this?” I asked.

  “I raised it at a meeting,” Borders said carefully.

  Over lunch, I thought, and gestured for him to continue.

  “Forster said he was preparing for a very large investment in stock that would allow another 5% off the margin. The same thing as he did last year, but bigger. He asked the bank to cover this month’s operating costs at the firm.”

  “See,” Mrs. de Vries said. “This is all a ridiculous misunderstanding.”

  “Last year,” I asked Borders, “did Mr. Sloan move any money out of the accounts prior to the bulk purchases?”

  “No.”

  “So,” I motioned with my hands. “Last year the firm had money, then it had stock, and some money left over. And this year, the firm has no money and almost no stock. All that money has been moved to where exactly?”

  “Well, I understand he’s speculating on exchange rates. Placing the money in China or India over the last few months would have increased his acquisition ability by at least 10%.”

  Borders’ careful choice of words showed he didn’t know if Sloan had actually done any exchange speculation at all.

  “Can I cut through that banker-speak and confirm that the complete limit of your knowledge is that he’s moved the money offshore?”

  Borders nodded, his face coloring.

  “To an account in the Caymans.”

  Borders twitched. I knew things I certainly shouldn’t have, thanks to Matt.

  Right now, Borders would be wondering who else knew.

  “It allows flexibility that, for example, London wouldn’t,” he said defensively.

  “It does. For example, flexibility to buy diamonds from somewhere other than de Beers.”

  “Forster would never do that!” Mrs de Vries said. “He knows about de Beers’ rules. He’d never risk the company for a bit of short-term gain. That would be crazy.”

  “It would be crazy if he intended to stick with it.”

  “No! I refuse to listen to this.”

  “Suzannah, please,” Ethel said. “There’s not much time. Listen to what she has to say. As a favor to me.”

  “The total amount we’re taking about, Mr. Borders?”

  Borders was rattled. All his reservations about confidentiality to Auradamas’ shareholders went right out the window if he’d assisted in the importation of illegal diamonds. I still had a problem with Mrs. de Vries, but Borders was on my side now.

  He squinted. “About five million.”

  “And if he agreed to a joint business venture with Mr. Okawa at Hayashi Securities, for example, how much could he raise?”

  Borders licked his lips. I knew from Jen that he’d been introducing Okawa around the circuit in Denver. I had no idea whether Sloan had raised any money from Hayashi Securities, but I was absolutely sure he’d raised as much as he’d been able to, from as many investment companies as he could without attracting notice.

  “They might match him dollar for dollar, but they’d never put it down up front.”

  “So maybe only seven million dollars cash with an up-front loan of a couple of million. And if you went onto the market with that and bought legitimately sourced diamonds, that’s twelve million or more in retail value.” I paused. “But if you convert that cash into conflict diamonds, you’d end up nearer twenty million in retail value. Someone with the right contacts could move those on without trace and at no more than 20% off. Say sixteen million. That’s a sizeable amount. A tempting amount.”

  Mrs. de Vries’ lips were a thin, angry line. Anger was fine. One way or the other, she was going to be angry today. I just needed to keep her thinking instead of reacting.

  “Are you accusing him of stealing? Why would he do this?” she said.

  “Why does anyone steal?” Ethel replied, trying to add her weight to our argument.

  “Because it’s the only way to get something they don’t have, and that doesn’t apply to Forster.”

  I saw a look of triumph mixed with the anger in her face, and I knew with an awful certainty what she was going to say next.

  “This isn’t the way I wanted to announce it, and obviously, you don’t approve of him, but we’re going to be married, Ethel. We’ve agreed on a spring wedding.” She actually sat back. “You’ve made some mistakes, but of course, I understand you had my interests at heart. Thank goodness Forster wasn’t here. It would have upset him so much. He hates it when he feels he isn’t accepted for what he is.”

  Ethel was speechless. I had to plow on.

  “Mrs. de Vries, your business has a small stock of diamonds remaining from last year’s bulk purchases.”

  “Yes, some of the smaller diamonds. What’s that got to do with it?”

  “I understand these are kept in safe storage. Would you do me the favor of calling any member of your staff and asking where that safe storage is?”

  “Ethel, this is getting intolerable. Why should I do that? Anyway, Forster handles all the business side of things.”

  “And your personal diamonds, Mrs. de Vries? I understand you have a stunning set of necklace and earrings.”

  She went pale, her hand unconsciously going to her throat. “There was a problem, with the house insurance,” she stuttered. “Forster put them in the storage with the firm’s stock.”

  I could feel her resistance being undermined by doubt. “Where?” I insisted.

  She didn’t know, but I’d pushed too much. She stood up, trembling.

  “I’ll ask him when he comes home and clear this all up. Now, I would like you all to leave.”

  “How sure are you that he’s coming home?” I knew he was, but I really needed her to start questioning what she knew about him. “There’s this for instance.” I held out a printout of a one-way ticket to Panama.

  “That proves nothing,” she snapped, glancing at it. “It’s not for today and it’s not even in his name.”

  I decided I liked Suzannah de Vries. Beneath the apparent timidity, she was nobody’s fool, make that almost nobody’s fool, and there was an inner core of strength. She’d certainly need it when the full implications of what had happened hit her.

  But the more I liked her, the harder I had to hit her now.

  “It’s his name. His real one.” The next piece I handed over had a printout from his driver's license and ID, under his real name and with his photo. Then another paper, a copy of the docking bill for his yacht, berthed at the Flamenco Island Marina in Panama Bay.

  “But…”

  Time to get cruel. “Do you know where he is now?”

  “His physical therapy…every Thursday, for his leg.”

  “Suzannah,” Ethel said softly, picking up the cordless phone from its base and bringing it over. “Please call them. Just to check.”

  “He doesn’t like me checking on him…” She stopped when she realized what that sounded like. She dialed clumsily. Her eyes were misted, but she refused to cry. She turned her back on us as if that kept it more private.

  “Hello? Yes, this is Mrs. de Vries. My partner…” she stumbled, “is booked in for some treatment. His name is Forster Sloan. I need to speak to him.”

  There was a heavy silence.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled. “Some mistake then.”

  She ended the call, standing very straight and still. “He’s not there. Maybe I made a mistake. I could have forgotten he told me he was going to the club instead.” Her voice trailed away and she turned. “He’s not there either, is he?”

  Mrs. Harrison shook her head and took the phone back.

  “You know where he is, don’t you?” Mrs de Vries said to me. She was angry again, a very tightly controlled anger. “It’s like lawyers in court, isn’t it? They never ask a question unless they know th
e answer. You wouldn’t have had me call unless you knew where he was.”

  I nodded.

  From the briefcase I pulled out one of Victor’s tricked-out laptop systems. It was an ordinary laptop with a roaming internet connection, and on the other end of that connection was Bud with a camera, outside a house less than ten minutes’ drive away.

  The screen cleared. It was dominated by the image from the camera, currently pointing at the dashboard.

  “You hear me, Bud?”

  “I hear you, Ms. Farrell.”

  “Date, please.”

  Bud lifted a copy of today’s Denver Post in front of the camera. The lens blurred and then focused on the lead story and date.

  “Target, please.”

  The camera swiveled to look out the window. Mrs. de Vries’ bright yellow Ferrari was parked in front of a modest townhouse that looked onto Barnum Park. On a clear day in winter you’d be able to see all the way to the downtown skyscrapers. This was the same place the Ferrari had been for an hour after work yesterday. And every Thursday evening, according to the neighbor.

  “Leave it there, Bud.”

  In truth, if it could have been done without anyone losing, I’d have just left Sloan and this woman to get on with it. Despite the sour taste from learning what had been going on, when I’d seen Tullah’s report, I’d laughed out loud.

  Sloan had hooked up with a con woman. Maybe he knew he was being played and was just going along with it for entertainment. After all, the ticket to Panama had been for one person. But Tullah’s synopsis of Sloan’s girlfriend was impressive, in its own way. I’d pay money to see who ended up screwing whom, but we didn’t have that luxury.

  “Call his cell, please, Mrs. de Vries. He’ll have it switched to silent, but he’ll probably spot it. Leave a message. Say that Mr. Borders has come over and needs to talk to him.”

  Ethel looked nervous. “Won’t that alert him? He might run.”

  I gave a small smile. “He’ll still come back here first. He has to.”

  Mrs. de Vries left the message. Her voice was steady and calm. I liked her even more.

  Tullah made us coffee and brought it in.

  We sat. Ethel started to talk about the ballet production Mrs. de Vries had mentioned, but it was one of those disjointed conversations and everyone’s eyes kept flicking back to the camera image on the laptop.

  Five minutes later, it showed Sloan coming out of the house. There was a glimpse of a woman in the doorway behind him, but he hurried down the steps to the Ferrari. No need for a cane, then. I strangled my demon before it made a comment about how miraculous the effect of a good massage was.

  I froze the best shot from the clip on the screen.

  “Bud, back to guard duty, please.”

  He signed off.

  Mrs. de Vries stood and stared out the back window into the gardens without speaking. We left her alone.

  After a couple of minutes, Tullah touched her earplug and nodded to me. Jofranka had reported from outside. Within seconds, the Ferrari pulled onto the drive.

  I watched from the window as Sloan struggled out of the low-slung car, waving his cane around and then using it to help him walk to the door. It was a very good limp.

  He glanced at my Audi with Jofranka sitting there, but ignored her. The front door of the house barely closed behind him and she was out of the Audi and into the Ferrari like an eel, thanks to a clever little device which recorded the car key’s lock control radio signal and played it back.

  I left her to it, and turned in time to catch Sloan’s entrance to the living room.

  “Scott, Ethel. Pleased to see you, of course.” He limped toward Mrs. de Vries, one arm held out to sweep her into an embrace. “What’s happened?”

  She moved away from him. Already alerted by the unexpected situation, he understood immediately that we knew something about what he had been doing. His question was how much, and which part of his deception.

  His eyes traversed the room. Hesitated at the laptop with the picture of him leaving the house in Barnum and then passed on as if it were nothing. I had to give it to him, he was cool. He was already thinking of how to hold onto something on his way out.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to use the Athanate and Were senses. I listened to his heartbeats, I tasted the chemistry of his blood in the air he breathed out, the sweat that evaporated off him.

  His heartbeat hadn’t risen. Not one beat. He really was an ice-cold operator.

  Without really meaning to, I reached out with eukori.

  It was like putting my hand in a bucket of freezing, slimy mud. His eukori slithered through my fingers and trailed away—an absence of humanity, a negation.

  I shuddered. He had no connections, no feelings, no commitment to anything or anyone, other than himself.

  He didn’t bother to try and lie his way out of it. If he’d had longer, I believed he might have tried, just for fun. But he had a plane to catch tomorrow.

  “I’ll leave. Of course, I expect the full Auradamas termination package to be honored.”

  He turned, taking car keys from his pocket.

  “In my Ferrari—no, I don’t think so.” Mrs. de Vries’ voice was sharp as a blade.

  “Didn’t expect it for a moment. I was just giving them back to you,” he said calmly. “I’ll take my car and free up your garage space. I’ll send someone to pick up my clothes.”

  He placed the keys with exaggerated care on a side table and strode to the hallway, where there was a door to the parking garage. He left the cane leaning against the side table, a prop no longer required.

  “Aren’t you going to stop him?” Ethel whispered.

  I let a little smile show, and waved for them to follow him.

  He looked irritated that we were following him, and startled when he saw that Jofranka had the garage door open and his Lexus SUV up on jacks.

  “Who are you? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  For the first time, his heart rate rose and my guess was looking better every moment. Seeing Jofranka confirmed it.

  Her face was professionally blank, but she just oozed satisfaction.

  “This is my assistant, Jofranka,” I said. “She’s an excellent mechanic and we thought we’d just give your car a quick check. After all, you’ve been working on it a lot recently. Wouldn’t want a problem down the road.”

  He didn’t even recognize her as the woman who’d given him his office massage. “You keep your hands off my car!”

  He moved forward threateningly.

  Oh, please, please. Just throw one little punch.

  “Bit late, sir,” Jofranka said cheerfully, entirely unconcerned by his actions. “Still, the good news is I located the problem with the exhaust.” She gestured.

  Sloan’s heart rate peaked. Behind Jofranka, the exhaust was resting against the wall.

  “It’s blocked, is all,” she said, tapping it with a wrench. “And these modifications,” she ran her finger down a seam in the body of the exhaust, “they’re not standard. Someone’s messed with it.”

  He lunged. I grabbed his arm, jerking him to a stop.

  Jofranka slid a screwdriver blade in behind the seam and levered it up. There was a little resistance and then a whole access panel popped open. Inside were small packages wrapped in what I guessed was heat-resistant material.

  “The safe storage for your necklace and the Auradamas stock, unless I’m mistaken,” I said.

  Sloan wrenched away. I let him go and he ran out of the garage.

  “Aren’t you going to stop him?” Mrs Harriman asked.

  I nodded towards Tullah. She pulled a small box from her pocket and held it up. It looked like a smartphone.

  “It’s a GPS tracker. I seem to have accidentally bugged him,” she said. “There’s a Detective Jennings waiting out there with a list of questions about some email correspondence with people in the Caymans, Zimbabwe and the Congo. I’ll make sure they meet.”
/>   She and Jofranka left and the garage door slid down behind them.

  “They’ll want to inspect this car as well,” I said.

  “And the accounts,” Mrs. de Vries said quietly.

  “I’ll do everything I can to help, Suzannah,” Ethel said.

  “I’ve been such a fool,” she murmured. “God, that’s a corny line.”

  “And it’s wrong,” I said. “I can explain, or do you want us to leave now?”

  “No. I want to listen…while it’s so fresh in my mind. Therapy, if you like. Come.” She led us back to the living room, her spine stiffening with every step. I really liked her.

  Seated again, she looked expectantly at me.

  I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to shake this about in her head until it made sense. Until she could understand how an intelligent woman like herself could have been so completely taken in.

  And I could do it. Ops 4-10 had needed us to be able to work behind enemy lines. Not long-term or deep cover, but to be able to pass, to hide in plain sight. To disengage the connections we naturally formed with society and become something more like what Sloan was. I wasn’t an expert, but I remembered the Ben-Haim lectures.

  “Let me demonstrate something first. It’ll only take a minute. Stand up.” She got to her feet and I pulled her forward until our faces were about a foot apart. “Look at me. Not just anywhere, right in my eyes.”

  “Are you going to hypnotize me or something?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  She tried and failed as I stared blankly at her. Any drill sergeant could do this. Any recruit would tell you it’s because sergeants aren’t really human.

  After a minute, I smiled gently.

  “Uncomfortable isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  I let her sit down again.

  “Sloan wouldn’t have had a problem. You find it uncomfortable because you’ve been raised in a society where that doesn’t happen with strangers. No one writes the rules, but the rules are there. You absorb them from society. You don’t stare into a stranger’s face, you don’t lie, you don’t cheat, you don’t steal. Now, people break the rules all the time, but there’s a cost. You feel bad, your body gets stressed. But not people like Sloan.”