Deadly Conception

by Patrick Blake

  Aimlessly.

  With his career in jeopardy and nowhere to live, Raimy called Gabriel again. This time he answered.

  “Did you get my voicemail?”

  “Yes. Where are you? Is Carl okay?”

  Raimy spent the next few minutes bringing Gabriel up to speed.

  “I’m scared, too, Raimy. Listen, here’s what I want you to do. Drive to Providence and park at the airport. I’ll leave an open ticket for you at American. Fly to DC. That’s where I am. Any airport is fine…Reagan or Dulles…just tell me which one. I’ll pick you up personally.”

  “Gabriel, that’s not…”

  “Knock it off. I’m scared but I know crisis…it’s my business. I do this shit with CEOs getting death threats, senior executives getting kidnapped, and celebrity stalkers. So, listen to me and do what I say.”

  “But…”

  “Raimy, you’re staying with me. I’ll get you hooked up with a room near mine while I’m in DC. Then we go to New York City and you can stay at my apartment.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so. Now jump.”

  Chapter 51 – Friday, August 10 (Metropolitan DC)

  “Good morning, Mrs. Patel. I’m glad to see you.” said Warren Forbes, Pilgrim Trust Bank’s chief of security. “I’m so very sorry to hear about Asrani. It’s horrible. I’m really sorry. We already miss him. I’m just glad you’re here.” He warmly embraced the new widow while they stood near the elevator bank.

  “Thank you, Warren. That means a lot to me,” she said as the pair made their way to the conference room.

  Firuzeh Patel, Firuz to a short-list of good friends, was surrounded by board members and other bank executives but she felt totally alone. Both her parents were deceased. She had no siblings, no children. She was 26 when she married Asrani and now he was dead, just over a decade later.

  She pulled herself away from her thoughts and stopped just outside the large meeting room.

  “I know this must be very hard for you, also, Warren. You and Asrani worked together for so long and...and…”

  She choked back her tears.

  He finished her sentence. “…and we did some great things for the bank. I’ll miss him terribly.”

  Forbes was a familiar face at the bank. But he didn’t start in the industry. A long career with the Boston PD, he gained widespread notice when he solved one of the earliest banking computer frauds in the country using what is now called digital forensics.

  “He depended on you, trusted your experience and connections,” she said, gathering her composure.

  The law enforcement veteran had risen steadily through the ranks, eventually being promoted to Superintendent and tasked to lead the Bureau of Investigative Services. But after twice getting passed over for Superintendent-In-Chief, Forbes felt cheated and was eager for something new.

  Asrani Patel was impressed with Forbes’ investigative work within the finance industry. He spent a couple of years wooing Forbes before finally convincing him to join as Chief Security Officer, the highest-level executive directly responsible for the banks’ physical, digital, electronic, and computer network security requirements.

  “He saved me from a life of civil service,” he joked but quickly added somberly, “I just wish I could have saved him.”

  Forbes was like a father to her. He’d joined Pilgrim Trust around the same time she’d met Asrani. He’d watched them fall in love. He was impressed with her cautious yet progressive attention to the evolving importance of digital currency. He thought of her as the crown jewel in the CEO’s banking empire.

  But a year ago it all changed. That’s when Firuzeh had approached Forbes for recommendations for a web-savvy private investigator. She didn’t say why, and he didn’t ask questions – he just provided her with the name of a talented former colleague who was as discreet as he was capable. He assumed she was probing for her husband’s infidelity.

  He’d watched as Firuzeh made her inevitable discovery of Asrani’s cheating and understood when he saw her make the peace she needed. In some ways, her behavior made him feel more protective of her. But they never spoke of her husband’s adultery, and he never asked for details on what his investigator friend discovered. He only asked if she was satisfied with the work the investigator did. He never forgot her response.

  Your man is thorough. I found out what I needed to know. Thank you.

  And that was the last they spoke of it.

  Firuzeh gripped his arm and said, “I hope you will continue to be there for me as it concerns Asrani.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Patel. Let’s get you settled in the conference room.”

  “Good idea. And please stop calling me ‘Mrs. Patel’…we’ve known each other long enough.”

  Warren turned on his heel and held the new widow’s gaze with misty eyes. “Inside this building you will always be Mrs. Patel to me.” He smiled. “But outside, yes, you’re my dear friend, Firuz. Now, come on.”

  The pair hugged again, briefly, before Warren led her into the large conference room of the bank headquarters.

  She took a seat in the back corner on the perimeter of the conference room next to the large windows, making certain her modest, all-black Versace Abito Donna Tessuto dress covered her crossed legs sufficiently.

  It’s so pretty outside, she mused thoughtfully as her mind wandered. I wonder if we had children if I would feel any differently? Would his death hurt less if we could have had a son or a daughter?

  A bird suddenly flew past the window and arrested her train of thought.

  There’s nothing to be done about it. Neither of us could have children. We both knew it before we married, she thought and trained her mind to take stock of her new position as the widow of the bank’s popular and successful CEO.

  Firuzeh held significant stock in the bank in her own right, and now, with her dead husband’s shares immediately conveying to her, she owned a commanding position of power. She had no interest in running the bank. But she wanted to use her power to ensure that her husband’s death was investigated thoroughly, and not simply brushed aside for the convenience of her husband’s ambitious deputies…or jealous mistresses.

  When I turn on the lights, I’ll be able to see if there are any cockroaches, and if there are…well, then I can watch where they run, she thought.

  The Boston police had told her that the PR guy, Gabriel Sweeney, had been with her husband the night he’d been found dead.

  I want to have a talk with Gabriel Sweeney. He better have some answers.

  Chapter 52 – Boston

  450 miles away Detective Paolucci’s burner phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  Sweeney is in DC. Take care of it.

  Nino deleted the text and swore under his breath. Son of a bitch.

  Chapter 53 – Metropolitan DC

  Gabriel scanned the boardroom as he began his presentation – men and women who were all important in this company. He recognized them from earlier meetings – all except one elegantly dressed woman sitting in the back. Patel’s widow? he wondered.

  For a moment he got lost in the chilly memories of Asrani’s lifeless body on a slab in the morgue, and then Pablo’s horrible death. He steadied himself, cleared his throat, and started.

  “Ladies and gentlemen let me begin by saying that when it comes to a cyber-security pressure test there is no passing mark. No institution is hack proof. Not the Federal Reserve. Not the Department of Homeland Security. I said as much to Mr. Patel when he hired my firm to conduct a data security pressure test on Pilgrim Trust.”

  “I also explained to him that what we do is find weaknesses that can be corrected. It’s up to the client to make those improvements. And, let me be clear, my team was able to find weaknesses in Pilgrim Trust.”

  He gazed around the room, unsmiling, so the fact of the security breaches would sink in. There was some uneasy shuffling of papers and shifting in seats. He relented.

  “The good news is these weakn
esses can all be corrected…and some are already fixed.”

  He went over the details of how easily Pablo had hacked the most sensitive data in the company and offered a list of fixes to strengthen the security system.

  “These were serious breaches. But Pilgrim Trust is actually in better shape than most banks. If you adopt the recommendations I’ve presented then your commitment to data security will meet or exceed those of your competitors,” he concluded, and sat down.

  “Mr. Sweeney, thank you for your presentation,” said the Acting CEO Malanga. “On behalf of Pilgrim Trust and its board I would like your firm to lead the oversight and implementation of the internal communications related to our data security improvements.”

  Gabriel gave a brief nod, containing his exultation. Success! he thought. This contract will get me out of the hole with the IRS.

  “Thank you, Mr. Malanga. Of course, I’d be happy to extend our work with you. Thank you all.”

  Breaking for lunch, the executives funneled out of the large meeting room. Gabriel lingered, making certain to greet each Member of the Board and the staff executives. As the room emptied, he noticed the Chairman and Acting CEO flanking the striking, dark-haired woman dressed in black who had been sitting at the back of the room. She murmured something to them, and they nodded and left the room. She approached.

  “Mr. Sweeney? I am Mrs. Patel.”

  Gabriel stared into the fierce, luminous brown eyes of Asrani’s widow. She was younger than he’d expected, and even more beautiful than she’d appeared at the far end of the conference room. He pulled himself together and shook her hand.

  “Mrs. Patel...I’m so sorry for your loss. Please accept my sincerest condolences. I only met your husband a few weeks ago. But what I did know of him was impressive. You must be devastated. I’m so sorry this has happened.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sweeney. That’s very generous of you. Truly. It has been quite a shock and it is difficult for me to accept that Asrani is gone.”

  “It was shock to me as well.”

  “Yes, I cannot imagine. I understand you were the one who had to…to…iden…identi…”

  “Yes, Mrs. Patel. That was me,” Gabriel finished the thought for her, and gripped her shoulder briefly to steady her.

  “Thank you,” she recovered, “Mr. Sweeney, I know this is not the best time. But I came to the board meeting today for a number of reasons. And one of them was to meet you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I must talk with you…some place private…away from Pilgrim Trust…if you don’t mind. It’s very important to me.”

  “Of course. Right now?”

  “No. The meeting will reconvene shortly and there’s an agenda item up first that I want to see through. That should only take an hour. Let’s meet after that. Over coffee. Do you know the Republik coffee shop?”

  “Sure. I’d be happy to meet. Would 1:30 work for you?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Sweeney. I expect you will honor my need for discretion, yes?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you. Goodbye.”

  Gabriel was a little stunned. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the widow. She was vulnerable, powerful, decisive, and hurt…all at once.

  “I see you met Mrs. Patel.”

  Gabriel broke away from his thoughts. “Oh, hey, Mr. Malanga. Yes. I just met her.”

  “Call me Marco. Yes, she’s an incredible woman. You may not know this but she’s smarter than she is beautiful. And she is really stunning.”

  “She must be going through a maze of emotions right now.”

  “We all are. But it’s nothing compared to her.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, I have to get back inside...Thanks again, really great presentation.”

  They shook hands and Gabriel made his way out of the building. Only board members, the senior management team, and Mrs. Patel were permitted to take part in an executive session meeting.

  Outside, the heat and humidity were oppressive, but Gabriel longed for some fresh air, especially after being cooped up in a conference room all morning. He checked the address of the coffee shop on his phone and decided to walk the three-quarters of a mile. It felt good to stretch his legs, and he had time to make a couple of calls.

  “Raimy, it’s Gabriel. I’m on my way to have coffee with Asrani’s wife. We meet in about an hour. Howya doin’? How’s Carl?”

  “I’m well, man. Carl is sore but he’ll be fine. I just woke up a couple of hours ago. Thanks again for getting me here and putting me up. I was a mess last night.”

  “For good reason.”

  “Yeah. I’m still freakin’ out a bit.”

  “Me too.”

  “So, what’s with the meeting with the widow?”

  “I don’t know. She insisted we meet, away from the bank. She wants discretion. I have no idea what’s up.”

  “You gonna tell her everything?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I think she should know what we know, but the woman’s in shock. Maybe I should hold off? I don’t know. I plan to listen to her first.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Alright. I’ll see you at the hotel after. We have a lot to talk about.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  Gabriel clicked off the call and then speed dialed Neely at his New York office. Voicemail.

  Hey Neely. It’s Gabriel. I’ve got a rush request for you. Bill it to Pilgrim Trust. I need you to dig into the wife of Asrani Patel. Her first name is Firuzeh…F-I-R-U-Z-E-H…I’ll do the desktop research, so I’d like you to dig two- or three-layers in. I need it in the next hour. It’s important. Thanks.

  Chapter 54

  Gabriel reached the Republik in 20 minutes. The spacious coffee bar was a blend of rustic and modern furnishings. Open, airy, with a smattering of customers.

  “Iced coffee, please.”

  Gabriel took a seat at a corner table, away from the sugar and milk counter, and waited for his order. He connected his laptop to the Wi-Fi and knocked out a few emails, sending one to Cody requesting a Pilgrim Trust contract amendment for the cyber-security training, another to Neely to make certain she received his voice message, and a final message to his office manager letting her know more Pilgrim Trust business was coming her way. He spent the next few minutes making a cursory desktop scan to learn more about Firuzeh Patel.

  “Gabriel? Your ice coffee is ready,” the barista announced.

  He retrieved the cool, caffeinated brew, splashed some milk in it, and added two swirls of raw sugar before his phone buzzed.

  “This is Gabriel.”

  “Hi Mr. Sweeney. It’s Neely. I just wanted to call you and let you know I completed the brief on Firuzeh Patel. It’s attached to an email I just sent. Are you someplace you can open the attachment? Do you need me to send it in text format to your phone?” Neely loved every challenge Gabriel threw at her, especially one where she could impress the boss she’d had a crush on since she was first hired.

  “Neely, that’s great. Thank you so much. You’re priceless. I’ve got my laptop so there’s no need to send it to my text.”

  “Okay. Good luck, Mr. Sweeney.”

  “Neely, would you please call me Gabriel?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry sir…I mean…Gabriel. Is there anything else? I’ll do anything for you.”

  “No thanks, Neely. I’m all set. Thanks.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  250 miles away, Neely sat at her desk blushing, scolding herself. Jesus, Neely, what is wrong with you? ‘I’ll do anything for you?’ What are you thinking?

  Gabriel checked the time. It was nearly 1:30. Firuzeh would arrive soon. He consolidated the results of his online search with Neely’s brief and started reading.

  BA from Middlebury. Wharton MBA. Speaks four languages.

  Impressive.

  Gabriel took a long, cool sip of his iced coffee, put his paperwork away, and shut down his laptop. Just then he spotted Mrs. Patel entering the coffee shop. The b
arista already had an iced-Chai tea ready for her and pointed towards Gabriel.

  Gabriel stood up as the arrestingly attractive woman walked over. Wow, he thought. I didn’t see her order, or pay, or anything. I guess that’s what happens when you’re ranked among the wealthiest individuals in the Mid-Atlantic region.

  “Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Sweeney.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Patel. Please, have a seat.”

  She sat down and took a small sip of her iced drink. “I want to get right to the point, if you don’t mind.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “My husband made your firm the agency of record for Pilgrim Trust, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You met with him over dinner the night he died?”

  “Yes, to go over the results of a data-security pressure test before the board meeting.”

  “Was that when you last saw him? At dinner?”

  “Yes. We met your husband to discuss the report over dinner. Didn’t see him after he left.”

  “We? Who else was there?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Pablo Souza was with us. He’s the man I hired to lead the pressure test. He and I have worked together for years. He…he…was with me that night at dinner,” Gabriel cut himself off, holding back Pablo’s death.

  He continued, “We wanted to brief Mr. Patel that evening over dinner before presenting to the board the next day. Of course, that presentation didn’t take place until today.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “After dinner and the briefing, Mr. Patel left. Said he needed to prepare for the next day’s board meeting. Pablo and I left about 20 minutes later. The police woke me up the next morning. That’s when I found out Mr. Patel had died.”

  He omitted the information about the CEO’s the hidden smartphone.

  She doesn’t need to hear that, Gabriel assumed. Asrani was from a wealthy and connected family. Together they quickly climbed to the top of the banking industry. Why damage her dead husband’s memory?

  Firuzeh narrowed her eyes. “And that’s all?”