In the end, the judge pronounced the amount to be two hundred thousand dollars, plus the condition that Rob stay away from all premises of the First Malden Bank.
“But frankly,” the judge said, “I’m surprised this case is even going to trial. Has every effort been made to settle this matter?”
“It has, your Honor, with no success,” Giordano said.
Rob leaned in to whisper again. “Why is he surprised?”
“That’s his not-so-subtle way of wondering out loud if I’ve done my job,” Pettigrew whispered back. “The evidence seems cut and dried to him. He figures we should have worked a deal and pled guilty.”
* * *
Lesley, of all people, should have been prepared for the crush of microphones and video camera lights that greeted her and the rest of Rob’s entourage when they stepped out of the courtroom after Rob’s hearing. After all, she often joined the throngs of reporters trying to catch the words of some local notable on their way into or out of court. The first query was aimed at Rob’s lawyer.
“Can you comment on the charges against your client?”
“No comment,” Pettigrew said.
Sensing a brick wall, the microphones swung immediately in Lesley’s direction.
“Has your boyfriend said anything to you about the charges against him?”
Lesley recognized the reporter asking the question; she worked for one of the local newspapers. Lesley couldn’t remember which one.
Pettigrew turned to Lesley. “For Rob’s sake,” he said, “I’d advise you not to say anything.”
Lesley looked back at the earnest faces of the reporters and thought of how recently she had been one of them. The experience was certainly different on this side of the microphone. She felt exposed and fragile.
“Why don’t we all go in there,” Pettigrew said, pointing to a doorway a short distance down the hall. “We can talk for a minute.”
The lawyer led the way, followed by the Donovans, Stan Dysart, Lesley, her mother and Tim. The door led into a plain room with a medium-sized wooden table and a few straight-backed wooden chairs. Rose and Tim hung back in the hallway. Once everyone else was in, Pettigrew shut the door on the hubbub in the hallway and addressed Owen Donovan.
“I assume Rob will require some assistance raising the bail money. I can recommend a bail bondsman. ”
“We’ll find a way,” Owen said, “even if it means putting up our house.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dysart said. “I’ll put up the bail.”
Lesley stared at her uncle in disbelief.
“That’s … well … you don’t need to do that,” Owen said.
“Rob is my employee and my friend,” Dysart said, “not to mention Lesley’s fiancé. The least I can do is make sure he doesn’t have to stay in jail any longer than is absolutely necessary. I’m sure you could handle it without me, but I can make the money appear quickly and easily.”
“Still,” Owen said, “given the circumstances, what they’re saying Rob did to you.”
Dysart made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Innocent until proven guilty, right?” He looked at Pettigrew. “How soon can Rob be released?”
“If you can write a check, I can have bail processing start right away. It shouldn’t take long.”
Dysart pulled out his checkbook and before long the group was ready to brave the media gauntlet again.
* * *
A couple of hours later Rob and Lesley sat on a bench by the Charles River Basin while seagulls wheeled lazily overhead. Pigeons squabbled and searched the paved walkway for tidbits.
The late-morning sun struggled to provide the heat it would so easily dispense during the afternoon. Lesley hugged herself to stay warm but Rob knew this was not the right moment to slide over and put an arm around her. The walk from the courthouse had been a silent affair.
Rob had never truly understood what freedom meant before. The on-again, off-again breeze felt fresher on his face than he could ever remember. The walkway stretched off into the distance along the river and he was free to walk the entire length of it if that was what he felt like doing. He could choose. No bars or guards prevented him from standing up and walking off. The simple fact of it was intoxicating.
He looked to his right, toward where the Charles River met the Atlantic. He pictured himself on the water, rowing. Long, effortless strokes that propelled him further and further east with each pull. Spray from the bow splashed on his back, soaking him, cleansing him. Freeing him. He could just keep going, never look back.
Or a quick plane ride. But to where? South America, maybe. Which countries had extradition treaties?
Right. As if.
No, in two short months he had to go back in a courtroom and face the possibility—the strong possibility it seemed—of going to prison. He felt a cold shiver shake his shoulders and run down his back.
Lesley interrupted his thoughts. “It was nice of your parents to give Mom a lift back to my place.”
“They’re heading back home to Worcester, and it was right on their way.” Rob shrugged. “And I think they could tell we wanted to be alone.”
She took a deep, raggedy breath.
“This is a nightmare,” she said without looking at him. “The whole thing. The engagement, Uncle Stan, the mess at the TV station. Even my mother. It feels like the whole world exploded and the pieces landed on us.”
“What’s wrong with your mother?”
“She’s upset,” Lesley said. “Doesn’t want me to get hurt.”
Rob felt himself deflate even more. “And she thinks I’m some big criminal.”
Lesley didn’t deny it, which was answer enough.
“Figures,” he said.
The hardening of Lesley’s jaw and the sharp flash of her eyes should have been a warning to Rob of what was to come. He was in no mood to read the signs, though, even those the size of billboards.
“It really ticks me off that everybody assumes the police are right about me,” he said. “This is hard enough without people jumping to conclusions.”
“Don’t lay your problems on her. She didn’t cause them.”
Rob scowled at her. “Oh, and I did, right?”
Her nostrils flared as she returned his glare. “You think this is easy for me?” she said. “I feel like I’m being ripped apart by chains pulling in ten different directions.”
“You’re not the one they want to throw in prison.”
“No? Yesterday the FBI accused me of being an accomplice. They asked about Monday night. Wanted to know if you used your computer while I was in the bathroom or if I helped you do it.”
Rob’s temples started to throb. “I didn’t go near the computer.”
“Somebody did, and nobody else was there.”
Rob leaned his head back, grabbed his hair with both hands and shouted at the sky.
“Great. This is just … perfect.”
A tiny dog happened to be walking by. It jumped and skittered away at the sound of Rob’s outburst. The elderly lady holding the leash quickened her pace and scuttled away, looking back at them over her shoulder.
Lesley crossed her arms and legs and looked away. Her foot started pumping in agitation.
“Do you think I’d create all these headaches on purpose?” Rob said. “Is that who you think I am?”
“No, but—”
“But what? But the FBI has a fingerprint. That should be enough to wipe out everything we’ve been through together, shouldn’t it?”
She turned her head away from him. He could see her jaw working from side to side in tiny, jerky movements.
“If I really did want to mess with the bank’s computers,” he said, “why would I be stupid enough to leave behind all that evidence pointing at myself?”
Rob felt the hurt sting his eyes when she didn’t respond. He stood up abruptly, took a few steps, and stood with his back to her, arms crossed, looking toward the water but not seeing. A vast emptiness seemed
to open up in his gut.
“You don't believe me, do you?” he said.
He waited, wanting to look at her but afraid of what he might see. No answer came.
“Fine,” he said, and started to walk upriver. He had no idea where he was going, only that he didn’t want to stay where he was.
Rob felt Lesley’s hand on his elbow. He stopped and turned back to face her. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“I want more than anything to believe you,” she said. “If someone had asked me a week ago if you were capable of this sort of thing, I would have laughed in their face. But how can you explain all the stuff that FBI guy talked about in court today? It just doesn’t seem possible.”
He wrenched his arm out of her grasp.
“I shouldn’t have to explain anything,” he said. “We’re going to be married, for crying out loud. You should trust me by now.”
Lesley raised her hands in exasperation. “How can we make wedding plans with all this going on? Oh, I know, we’ll get invitations made. Ceremony at three, reception to follow—if the groom isn’t in prison, that is. And we can tell the guests about the night we slipped the ring on me and the handcuffs on you.”
“If it’s such a problem for you, maybe we shouldn’t bother.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I want someone who believes in me,” Rob shouted.
“I did,” Lesley shouted back, “and look where that got us.”
“Fine. Just forget it.”
Rob turned and started to walk away again. Something small hit his back and landed with a tinkling noise on the walkway. He swung around to see Lesley running in the opposite direction.
The diamond ring lay at his feet.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DYSART TURNED OFF the concrete ramp onto the top level of the parking garage. Only a few cars occupied this level and each one appeared to be empty as he drove slowly by them. Just as Landry had instructed, Dysart pulled into an empty spot far away from the other cars and waited.
This was not the first time Dysart had hired Landry, so he knew from previous experience it would take Landry a few minutes to arrive. He suspected Landry was waiting and watching to see if anyone was following Dysart. When Landry’s car appeared, it pulled into a spot at the far end of the structure. Landry glanced into each parked car as he walked to where Dysart waited, then opened the passenger door and got in.
“Mr. Dysart,” Landry said, extending his hand. “It’s been a while.”
Dysart shook his hand. “I didn’t know if you’d still be in business.”
“I saw your bank in the news.”
“You know about my problem, then?”
Landry shrugged lazily. “I know what the public knows. There’s always more to it.”
Dysart told him about the scrambled account records that seemed indecipherable, the outraged bank customers, and the evidence gathered by the FBI. When he got to Rob’s arrest, Landry interrupted.
“That’s quite a kick in the gut, him about to marry into your family and all.”
“I’d like to strangle him,” Dysart said with a scowl.
Landry grinned. “Maybe we could work something out.”
“You might get your chance. I need you to have a talk with him.”
“That could be a problem, him being in jail.”
“He’s not,” Dysart said. “I just bailed him out.”
“You paid his bail?”
“Absolutely.”
“Aren’t you the good Samaritan.”
“That’s what everyone else thinks. I just needed to make sure you could get at him.”
Landry chuckled. “Like I said, there’s always more to it.”
“I need you to get that keyword from him, and I need it fast.”
“Why hasn’t he given it up already? I mean, he’s caught, right?”
“That’s what I thought, but he won’t say a thing.”
“So talk to his lawyer and the prosecutors. Get them to offer Rob a sweetheart deal if he’ll cooperate.”
“Already been done,” Dysart said, “and still nothing.”
“He’s either stupid or the FBI caught the wrong guy.”
“No, they’ve got him cold.”
“Then he’s stupid.”
Landry lapsed into a thoughtful silence for a few moments. Finally he said, “So I snatch him up, make him see reason, and I hand the keyword over to you. Then Rob runs to his lawyer, who tells the feds someone’s been beating on his boy. They find out you fixed your computers right after Rob was kidnapped, so they know your bank was behind it, which means you’re fried. You give me up to save yourself, which means I’m fried.”
Dysart was already shaking his head when Landry finished. “Never happen,” Dysart said. “First of all, I’d never be stupid enough to give you up for any reason. I know I wouldn’t live long if I did.”
Landry inclined his head in acknowledgment.
“Secondly,” Dysart said, “nothing Rob says will implicate me or the bank. There are plenty of people and companies who would be out big money if First Malden goes under. Shareholders, for instance—they need this fixed almost as much as I do. Or almost any other bank in the country for that matter. You can tell Rob you work for someone like that, without mentioning names, of course. He’ll buy it. He has no reason not to. Then First Malden gets an anonymous phone call and everyone’s happy.”
“It’s still risky,” Landry said.
“It’ll work fine.”
“But it’d be cleaner if Rob just disappeared. We can make up a farewell note that says he decided to give you the keyword. When he doesn’t show up, everyone will assume he jumped bail. You’ll be out the bail money but I’m guessing that’s small potatoes compared with what you’ve got on the line if your bank goes out of business.”
Dysart looked at him with horror on his face.
“No way. I’m a bank president, not a mafia don. It’s bad enough I have to hire you at all. I’d rather let the bank go under than arrange to kill somebody.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad. Rob’s the one who came at you, remember? Tried to take you down. There comes a point when you have to protect yourself.”
“Oh, perfect,” Dysart said. “Now when the FBI comes calling, they’ll be trying to pin a murder on me.”
“Like I said, they’ll figure he skipped bail, so they won’t even come looking.” Landry nodded knowingly. “Trust me. This way’s safer.”
Dysart shook his head. “Rob is still breathing when this is done or we forget the whole thing right now.”
Landry stared at Dysart in silence while he considered this.
“All right,” Landry said finally, “but it’s going to cost you.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand, with half up front.”
“Done.”
“Plus expenses.”
“Of course.”
Landry pulled out a plain white card, which he handed to Dysart. Written on the card was an account number and the name of a bank in the Cayman Islands.
“I’ll start when I have confirmation that a hundred thousand has been deposited in that account,” Landry said.
Dysart pocketed the card. “It’ll be done within the hour.”
“One more thing.” Landry pulled a cell phone from inside his jacket and gave it to Dysart. “That’s a clean phone, no way to trace it to you or me. And I have one just like it. Each phone has the other one’s number programmed into speed dial. We use these when we need to talk. If something bad happens to either one of us, the other one can pitch the phone and the cops have no way to tie us together.”
“What do you mean, something bad?”
“Getting arrested, whatever. It just pays to be careful. And don’t use real names when we’re on the phone.”
Dysart shrugged. “No problem.”
“Now how do I find this guy?”
Dysart picked up the envelope that had been sitting on the dashb
oard.
“There’s a picture of Rob and my niece, Lesley,” Dysart said, “along with his home address and the address of Lesley’s apartment. Rob also has a good friend named Tim Whitlock who works at the bank. His address is there too. You should be able to pick up Rob’s trail at one of those places. But—” Dysart raised a finger in warning. “—I don’t want Lesley involved in any way.”
Landry pulled out the photograph.
“Of course,” he said as he looked at the faces.
* * *
Rob paid the cabbie, and then trudged up the walkway toward the front door of his apartment building. He had never felt so spent in his entire life. His back ached from sleeping on a steel cot for the past two nights. His stomach felt like a dry hole. All of which was minor compared with the storm buzzing in his head. He wanted a hot shower and to escape into a long sleep. Maybe after that he would see things more clearly.
A man struggled up from where he had been sitting with his back against the wall of the building.
“You’re him, ain’tcha?” the man said to Rob.
Rob had no way of knowing the man’s name was Larry or that he was a problem gambler, but Rob could tell the man was drunk from the difficulty he had in achieving and maintaining an upright position. He also seemed to have received quite a beating recently. The bruises on Larry’s face were tinged with yellow around the edges.
Larry staggered over to the walkway and planted himself in Rob’s path.
“I seen you on TV,” Larry said, “and then looked you up in the phone book.”
From the self-satisfied pride on Larry’s face, it was as if he was announcing a major scientific breakthrough.
“Do I know you?” Rob said.
Larry lurched a half step closer.
“She left me,” he said. “Soon as I came home and told her it was all gone. She just packed and went. I couldn’t say nothin’ to stop her.”
“Look I don’t—”
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