Need You Now

by James Grippando

  Her tone was more accusatory than inquisitive. Clearly, Henning was trying to push a button with Lilly, but I wasn’t getting it.

  “What are you suggesting?” I asked.

  “I’m suggesting that your girlfriend knows something you don’t know, and I’m counting on her to be honest with us. Lilly, you know how Manu Robledo got his hands on Evan Hunt’s analysis, don’t you.”

  It was an accusation, not a question. “Hold on,” I said. “Lilly doesn’t know anything about Evan’s analysis, let alone whether Manu Robledo has it.”

  Andie’s stare tightened on Lilly. “That’s not true, is it, Lilly. You know he got it from Patrick’s father.”

  I was about to rise again to Lilly’s defense, but I quickly realized that the women at the table were way ahead of me. Andie pressed on, for my benefit, sharing the things she’d learned in the last twenty-four hours-that my father couldn’t comprehend why the SEC had shown no interest in Evan’s analysis, that in frustration he’d decided to use it against Gerry Collins.

  “With a little help from a friend in the FBI, your father found a client on Gerry Collins’ roster who would show absolutely no mercy to a man who dared to cheat him. A true badass who would deliver a beating he would never forget. Or worse.”

  “Are you saying that my dad hired Manu Robledo to kill Gerry Collins?”

  “This was no murder for hire,” said Andie. “In fact, what your father did isn’t even remotely a crime. He simply gave Manu Robledo the truth and let him do with it as he may.”

  “Fully expecting that it would not end well for Gerry Collins,” I said.

  “That’s a fair statement,” said Andie. “Don’t you agree, Lilly?”

  Lilly averted her eyes, looking at neither me nor Andie. I knew where this was headed, but I asked the question anyway.

  “Lilly, you knew all this?”

  The expression on her face was one of complete misery, but the truth was undeniable. She knew.

  “You found this out how?” I asked.

  There was pain on top of her misery, which was transforming into fear. “You know how,” she said.

  It had been hard enough for her to tell me about her “source,” and it was plain as day that she wasn’t ready to talk about it in front of an FBI agent. Lilly pushed away from the table, ready to leave, but I stopped her.

  “Lilly, you’ve got to tell Andie.”

  “That’s not an option,” she said as she gathered her coat.

  Andie leaned across the table, forcing Lilly to look her in the eye. “Lilly, if you have a source-”

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  “There’s no way for me to help you if you won’t talk to me.”

  “Damn it, Patrick. Did you set this up?”

  I hadn’t, but I could see how she would think otherwise. “No, but Andie’s right.”

  Lilly rose, and so did Andie, blocking Lilly’s path to the door. “Sit for thirty seconds more,” said Andie, “and hear me out.”

  Andie hadn’t presented it as an option, and Lilly backed down.

  “Here’s the situation,” said Andie. “Take it as a given that Manu Robledo has in his possession a copy of Evan Hunt’s analysis of the Cushman Ponzi scheme. I can name three people who are alive today who could truthfully say that they saw the report in Robledo’s hands around the time he got it, three years ago. Robledo, obviously, is one. Tony Mandretti, who gave it to him, is another.”

  “The third, I presume, is Evan,” I said.

  “No. I said people who are alive today. I don’t think Evan knew anyway.”

  “Then who’s the third?” I asked.

  Andie hesitated, which underscored the importance of what she was about to say. “It’s a former government agent.”

  “From the FBI?”

  “No.”

  “Who is he?”

  “An undercover agent who introduced Manu Robledo to Gerry Collins. He was at a meeting in Miami three years ago, when Robledo confronted Gerry Collins with the analysis showing Cushman was a fraud. I can’t go into detail, but suffice it to say that things went terribly wrong. He was shot, but survived.”

  This was entirely new territory to me, and a string of questions came to mind. “When you say he was an undercover agent, would I be on track if I were to guess that the government operation had something to do with the letters B-A-Q?”

  “You’d be right on track,” said Andie.

  “So he worked for the Treasury Department?”

  “Slow down,” said Andie. “We can talk more about this, but only if I know both you and Lilly are on board.”

  “On board what?” Lilly asked.

  The color had drained from Lilly’s face, and I knew that we were sharing the same thought. I put it into words: “Are you saying that this former government agent is Lilly’s source?”

  Andie leaned closer, tightening her figurative grip on Lilly. “You don’t want to mess with this man,” Andie said to her. “He’s ruthless and has his own agenda. Trust me, your safety and well-being are not high on his list of priorities.”

  “I know that,” said Lilly, her voice flat. “It’s all very disturbing, the way he talks to me.”

  “What does he say?” I asked.

  “He uses very affectionate language, which is totally out of place. He tells me all the time that he is protecting me. He’ll call me ‘Love,’ or he’ll tell me how much I need him.”

  “That’s a ruse,” said Andie. “I told you: he’s a former government agent. He understands how psychological profiling works in law enforcement. If he comes across as a lovesick puppy, it’s only to confuse us about his real motivations.”

  “That would actually be a relief, if you’re right,” said Lilly.

  “You should operate on the assumption that you can’t believe a thing he says,” Andie said.

  “But that’s not exactly right, either,” said Lilly. “Apart from the lovesick stuff, just about everything he’s told me has been right on the money.”

  “Like what?” asked Andie.

  “He told me that it was Robledo who opened the numbered account at BOS/Singapore. That was true, whether the bank will admit it or not. He told me Patrick was really Tony Mandretti’s son. That was true. He told me-”

  She stopped, which brought Andie and me to the edge of our seats.

  “He told you what?” asked Andie, pressing. “I want to know everything he’s told you.”

  “And he promised to kill me if I tell anyone.”

  “That’s not a threat to be taken lightly, given the intelligence that’s been gathered on him. I can see what a toll this is taking on you, emotionally and physically. If you work with me, we can bring this nightmare to an end.”

  Lilly glanced at Andie, then at me.

  “What do you say, Lilly?” asked Andie.

  “First, I need to talk to Patrick,” she said, “alone.”

  39

  L illy and I felt a blast of the cold winter night as Andie opened the door and left the Tearrific café. I watched through the plate glass window, and my gaze followed her across narrow Mott Street. She disappeared into the darkness, but I noticed the lighted red awning above the Fong Inn, which in bold white letters advertised P UTO and H OT T AO. Puto is a steamed rice cake, but under my rough understanding of Spanish slang and Chinese menus, linking it with “hot tao” created the literal multilingual equivalent of “way-hot male prostitute.” Talk about lost in translation.

  “What are you looking at?” asked Lilly.

  I didn’t even attempt an explanation. “Nothing,” I said. “What did you want to tell me?”

  Lilly sat up straight, preparing her words. “You heard me tell Agent Henning that my source claims to be protecting me, but it goes further than that.”

  “You mean all the lovesick remarks he makes?”

  “No, not that. I think Henning’s take on that is probably right: he’s playing to a profile stereotype just to confuse me. What I m
ean is that he’s not just protecting me: he blames you-wants to blame you for everything that happened at the bank. And he cautions me to keep my distance from you so that the blame doesn’t spill over to me.”

  “Strange as that sounds, the notion of putting distance between us actually jibes with the warning I got in the park. The guy who attacked me told me to stay away from you.”

  “Basically he thinks that I got used. First by Gerry Collins. Then by you.”

  It was awkward to be among the “users,” but it suddenly turned into one of those “lightbulb” moments. “Your source leaked the Treasury memo,” I said, energized by the realization.

  “What?”

  “Robledo had to have gotten that memo from someone in Treasury. Your source is a former government agent. He leaked the Treasury memo, and Robledo showed it to you. Your source is the one who put you on Robledo’s radar.”

  “But if he’s the one who put me in danger, why would he be protecting me?”

  “He’s got your back,” I said, as things suddenly came clear to me.

  “What does that mean?”

  “My bet is that he leaked the Treasury memo for some other purpose-to hurt somebody else. Putting you in danger wasn’t his intention. Protecting you is what he’s all about right now.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it. Clearly, he doesn’t believe the statement in the memo about your being the best lead on the Cushman money. He called Collins a user. Now your source thinks I know where the money is, and he says I’m using you to get there. In his eyes, I’m as bad as Gerry Collins.”

  “I still don’t see how that adds up to his having my back.”

  “He was an undercover agent who ended up shot. He got used on the front end of Operation BAQ, just like you did. He’s out to punish everyone who was behind Operation BAQ-the users. Leaking the Treasury memo was part of a bigger agenda. Putting you in danger wasn’t. Collins got his punishment. He’s here to make sure I get mine. He wants to make sure you don’t get used in the process. He’s not in love with you. He’s got your back.”

  I could almost see her head spinning. “Give me that again,” she said. “You’re saying Collins was part of Operation BAQ?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Her expression soured. “I knew Gerry. He was definitely not an FBI agent.”

  “Of course not. He was a scumbag who fed billions of dollars to the biggest Ponzi scheme in history. I can easily see a situation where someone in the FBI or Treasury came to him and gave him the option of going to jail for the rest of his life or playing along with Operation BAQ-whatever it is.”

  Lilly was suddenly with me. “That would be just like Gerry. Cut a deal, save himself.”

  “Save himself in spades. I’m betting that the federal agent assigned to handle Collins was told to take the bullet himself before he let Collins go down-before he let Operation BAQ fail. Collins bought himself a human shield. And now that shield is a rogue agent who thinks that he got used by his own government, who thinks that I’m using you.”

  Lilly’s expression went cold, but it wasn’t because she disagreed with me. “That’s why he said it’s up to me and him to decide…”

  “Decide what?”

  “Whether you live or die.”

  “He actually used those words?”

  Lilly nodded. She reached across the table and held my hand. “What are we going to do?”

  I withdrew my hand and poured more tea. “Stay right here,” I said, “until I’m damn sure you’ve decided I should live.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  I breathed in the steam from my tea, catching her eye over the brim of my cup. “When did he tell you this?”

  “Yesterday afternoon, when he listed all the lies you’d told me.”

  “Alleged lies,” I said.

  “Lies,” she said.

  “Okay, lies. But, shit, Lilly. The guy says it’s up to you to decide if I live or die, and you’re telling me now?”

  “It’s sounds horrible when you say it that way, but even as mad and hurt as I was, I literally was dialing your number when Barber pulled up in his limo and told me to get into the car. I was really scared, and in no position to call you. An hour later you were in his office, and he was telling us to look through each other’s files for the smoking gun. I don’t have to tell you everything that’s happened since then. It’s been crazy, and I’m sorry it’s taken us this long to have this conversation, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Up until we had this last conversation with Andie Henning, you were the only person sitting at this table who had an FBI agent looking out for you.”

  “I’ve been trying to make that happen,” I said.

  “I’ve been trying, too, damn it. But it’s been just me .”

  I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice: she really had been trying. And she’d raised a valid point. I had Andie. I had Connie. I’d even had Evan for a while. Lilly had no one.

  “Patrick, we can let this get ugly and turn against each other. But we’ve both made mistakes. Please, can we just move forward?”

  I still wished that she had told me sooner, but it was a fair statement that we’d both made mistakes-and the real truth was, the only one who had affirmatively lied to the other was me.

  “That sounds like an excellent idea,” I said.

  “Really, Patrick. What are we going to do?”

  The tea and our talk had cleared my thoughts. I took my phone from my pocket and removed the battery.

  “What are you doing?” asked Lilly.

  “Deactivating my phone to make sure I don’t use it before a tech expert can tell me what spyware is on it. I suggest you do the same with yours.”

  “I suppose that’s a reasonable assumption-that it’s bugged.”

  “Beyond reasonable,” I said. “Right here, right now, you and I are going to burn one indisputable fact into our brains: Evan Hunt was shot in the head fifteen minutes after he called and told me that he had cracked the code on an encrypted memorandum about BAQ.”

  “Okay. And exactly what does that tell us?”

  “It tells us somebody was listening to that conversation. It tells us that we need to figure out what Operation BAQ is, and not end up like Evan Hunt.”

  “Does that mean we should take up Agent Henning on her offer to help us? You want to ‘get on board’ with her, as she put it?”

  I leaned closer, hoping that it truly mattered what either one of us thought-wondering if either one of us had any real control.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” I said.

  40

  O n a quiet cross street in lower Midtown, at the designated time and place, Andie Henning waited on the salt-stained sidewalk beneath a burning streetlamp. A black limousine stopped at the curb. The driver got out, closed his door, and walked to the newsstand on the corner. The motor continued to run, exhaust swirling from the tailpipe and blurring the orange glow of taillights. Dark-tinted windows prevented Andie from seeing inside. The rear door on the passenger side swung open. Andie slid onto the black leather seat and pulled the door shut.

  By phone Andie had requested a face-to-face meeting with Joe Barber, and he’d agreed to see her on his own terms. They sat facing each other on bench-style seats. Andie flashed her credentials to confirm her identity, but Barber waved them off.

  “You’re alone; I’m alone,” he said. “Keep it unofficial.”

  She put her badge away. “Fine by me. Because it’s clear now that, officially, you and I have been working at cross-purposes for the past eight months. FBI going one way, Treasury going another.”

  “You seem to forget that I’m no longer with Treasury.”

  “Fair enough. Up until your resignation, we were working at cross-purposes. But we both ended up at the same place: BOS/Singapore numbered account 507.625 RR.”

  She waited for his reaction, but he showed none. Finally,
Barber said, “I told you on the phone that I would listen. I didn’t say that I would talk.”

  “You’ll talk,” she said. “Or you’ll go to jail.”

  His eyes narrowed, his tone suitable for a lord speaking to a serf. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “The former deputy secretary of the Treasury who wrote an internal memorandum on Operation BAQ.”

  “And exactly what do you know about that memorandum?”

  “I know that it was encrypted on a level that is reserved only for matters of national security. I know that a quant named Evan Hunt, who claimed to have cracked the code, ended up dead in a Dumpster. I know that your memo named Lilly Scanlon as Treasury’s best lead to the whereabouts of billions of dollars that disappeared in Abe Cushman’s Ponzi scheme. And after months of investigating Lilly Scanlon on suspicion of laundering money for Abe Cushman and Gerry Collins, I’ve come to the firm conclusion that she doesn’t know anything about the location of those funds. In other words, I know that what you wrote was a lie.”

  “Government officials don’t go to jail for putting inaccurate information in an internal memorandum.”

  “They do if the misinformation gets people killed. Especially innocent people who are used as bait.”

  “That’s a very serious accusation, even for an unofficial meeting.”

  “I couldn’t be more serious about it. I don’t know exactly what Operation BAQ is, but I do know it’s some kind of fishing expedition. The catch of the day is a rather dodgy character named Manu Robledo-or someone connected to him. Lilly Scanlon was the bait.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  “No. Ashamed. It was former FBI agent Scully who figured out most of everything I just told you. That’s why you forced him into retirement.”

  “You need to check your directory of government employees, sweetheart. I was at Treasury, not the bureau.”

  She paused before pushing beyond her sphere of knowledge, but suddenly, it felt like more than a hunch. “Operation BAQ goes way above your pay grade. Above Treasury. Above the FBI. Plenty high to send an overly inquisitive special agent packing.”