Where's Ellen? (Mystery) (MPP A JOE MCFARLAND / GINNY HARRIS MYSTERY Book 1)

by Stuart Safft

  “Whew. That makes it a lot easier. Definitely do whatever is required to avoid forfeiting any of those stock options. And, sadly, given the current situation, I don’t see any value in paying to continue Ellen’s medical insurance. Regarding what to do with all the resultant stock and cash, I’ll get back to you to tell you what I want, or Ellen would want if she could tell us, and then you can make it happen.”

  “OK, then. I’ll wait to hear back from you. As a minimum, in the interim, I’ll make sure we exercise all of Ellen’s vested but not-yet-exercised stock options before the end of the 90-day period. These were worth about $3.6 million the last time I checked.”

  “We most definitely want to act before the deadline. And Bill, I’m really glad I have you there to take care of this while I’m away.”

  “Glad to be of help. I’ll await hearing from you about how you want me to proceed longer term.”

  “Great. I should be back to you within a couple of weeks. Good-bye for now, Bill.”

  “Bye, Steve. And take care.”

  And true to his word, two weeks later Steve called Bill Perkins from a public phone booth in the Munich, Germany, central train station. “Hi, Bill. This is Steve Sanders.”

  “Hi, Steve. Any news about Ellen?”

  “No. Nothing. But I’m calling to tell you how to proceed with the various things we discussed a few weeks ago. Let me preface this all by telling you that I’ve decided to remain in Europe.”

  “What? Do you mean forever?”

  “Well, forever’s a long time. Let’s just say at least for the foreseeable future. Somehow I feel closer to Ellen, being here in Europe where she was born and grew up. As a result of my planning to stay here, I’d like you to liquidate everything we own — all the assets Ellen has that are related to Tycon, all of her and my personal investments, my equity distribution from the firm, and yes, even the house and our cars.”

  “Wow! Are you sure, Steve? That’s a bundle of money and you’ll have a huge income tax liability.”

  “I know. But that’s what I want. As I have enough money to live on for now, there’s no need to do this on a bargain-priced, rush basis. Except for the stock options and their 90-day window, you can do it bit by bit over the next six or eight months, trying to time things as best you can. As you get groups of assets converted to cash, please wire the cash in equal amounts to the German and Luxembourg bank accounts you had us open a couple of years ago. When we opened the German and UK accounts for currency diversification and the Luxembourg account for privacy, I never thought they’d become my primary bank accounts.”

  “Yes, well it’s convenient that you have them, in view of your current plans. I can do all that, Steve. What about the UK account? Shouldn’t I wire some of the funds to that account also?”

  “No. Nothing to the UK account. I want to keep everything in euros,” said Steve, not wanting to explain that his real reason was to avoid having to travel to the UK with its requisite passport controls, even with the other European Union countries.

  “Not a problem for me to do what you’re asking. But are you sure? Don’t you want to take some more time to think about it? Maybe you’re not yet in the right frame of mind for making big decisions like this.”

  “Yes, I’m sure, Bill. I appreciate your concern, but this is really what I want to do. I’ve already given it a lot of thought.”

  “OK, Steve. You can consider it done. We’ll, of course, stay in touch through all this — including the resulting large and relatively complicated tax returns to be filed — and I hope to see you in person one of these days. And Ellen too, God willing.”

  “Yes. And thanks again for everything, Bill.”

  Over the next several months, Steve, under Ellen’s tutelage, was busy dealing with the funds that Bill Perkins was wiring to Europe every few weeks. Aware that the U.S. authorities might be able to trace the funds that were being wired, Steve had to be quick in withdrawing these funds. Although he went to great lengths to avoid being detected, the downside risk if he were detected was small. As long as he was sure not to be followed back to their home in Italy, nothing much would happen if Steve were discovered. He was not wanted for any crime, and he was legitimately entitled to all of these monies from his law firm, from his and Ellen’s personal investments and from the proceeds generated by the sale of their house.

  The money from Ellen’s stock holdings was technically not legally theirs, but the authorities had no evidence linking Steve to Ellen’s disappearance. Steve traveled to Frankfurt and Luxembourg City by train, using his false identity. He went to the two banks and, using his true identity, withdrew the great bulk of the funds, leaving a reasonable balance in each account so as to not attract any undue attention that might result from closing the accounts. He then went to another nearby bank in each city and, again using his fake identity, opened a small account and rented a safe deposit box. He placed most of the cash in the safe deposit box. Then, making sure he wasn’t being followed, he took the train back home.

  CHAPTER 27

  Meanwhile, things in Jasper Creek had settled back into a normal routine. Joe and Ginny were kept busy with several other cases, ranging from a house invasion to an argument over a parking space that had escalated into a shooting. Initially, Joe and Ginny often spoke about the Sanders case, wondering what happened to her and whether they had overlooked some important clue that could have blown the case wide open. But gradually, these flashbacks occurred less and less frequently as they focused on their more current assignments.

  The seasons slowly changed, yet the daily grind continued much as it had before either of them had ever heard of Ellen Sanders. But thanks to having entered it in his calendar in Outlook for a reminder every three months, Joe periodically re-contacted Tycon, Steve’s law firm and the life insurance companies that had issued the policies on Ellen’s life.

  Ostensibly to ask for an update, Joe’s real motivation was to remind them that the police were still interested in hearing of any activity or inquiries regarding these financial matters. He knew how easy it was for these requests to be forgotten without a periodic prod. This was extra important because the time limit on all of the wiretapping warrants that both the police and FBI had obtained had long since expired. Tycon and the insurance companies repeatedly assured Joe that they would notify him of any actions or inquiries. Steve’s law firm, however, refused. Their position was that, unless and until they became aware that helping Steve liquidate his and Ellen’s assets involved a crime, attorney-client privilege precluded them saying anything to Joe.

  Joe wasn’t sure whether he was continuing these follow-ups because he was a good and determined detective or because he was trying to prove something to himself. Or, when he occasionally questioned his motivation in a detached and objective manner, was it more likely that he was trying to prove something to Ginny? Joe was surprised, and perhaps disturbed, to realize that he cared about what Ginny thought of him. He easily accepted this when thinking of the times that Ginny had complimented some aspect of his police work — a well-run interrogation or a shrewd deduction from a series of clues. After all, Ginny was his partner, and she had developed into a top-notch detective in her own right.

  Joe was less able to explain or accept his feelings when he found himself pleased by compliments from Ginny other than those related to his detective skills. “Joe, I see you finally got a haircut from a qualified barber. It looks good.” Or “Nice shirt, Joe. And it doesn’t even clash with your slacks.” Joe gradually came to recognize and accept that, besides being his partner for almost 1½ years, Ginny had also become a good friend. “OK, my best friend. Oh, OK, my only friend.” This realization made Joe feel content and uneasy at the same time. “Good, or best, or only friend is getting too close for comfort.”

  For her part, Ginny sensed that Joe was struggling with his feelings for her. She, however
, had already come to terms with her strong feelings for him. She recognized that these might never lead to anything, and she was determined not to say or do anything to spook him. A professional partnership and a good friendship were far too valuable to Ginny for her to risk a permanently strained, or possibly even broken off, relationship with Joe.

  The agents at the FBI office in Cincinnati also were focusing their attention on more current cases. However, early one Wednesday afternoon, Martin received some news about the Sanders case.

  “Hey, Frank,” Martin said. “We just got some news from D.C. about the ransom money paid for Ellen Sanders.”

  “Great. What is it? I had about given up on ever hearing anything about it.”

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

  “OK, I’ll play along. Hit me with the good news first.”

  “Our folks in D.C. finally were able to track down all of the $5 million ransom that was paid. They have the details of every wire transfer that the kidnappers made, and there’s a full list of every bank account that funds passed through. And for each account, they have who owns the account, when it was opened, how often and when it’s been accessed and who the person who accessed it was.”

  “That’s super! Now we can finally start using all this information to identify and, hopefully, locate the kidnappers. It may be too late for Mrs. Sanders, but at least we can nab the perps.”

  “Hold on, Frank. You still have to hear the bad news.”

  “Oops. That doesn’t sound too good. Out with it.”

  “Sadly, all of this information leads nowhere.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “After following up on the owners of each account, it turns out that most of the alleged owners are fake names. The others are shell corporations, which when looked into led only to other shell corporations. Even the individuals who went to the banks and withdrew the cash seem to be ghosts — they either never existed or have been able to remove their names and faces, hell, even their fingerprints, from every database we have or have access to.”

  “Damn, Dan. Is that it then? Isn’t there anything else we can do? I’d love to catch these bastards, or find out and prove that it was all a hoax perpetrated by Mrs. Sanders. Or by Mr. and Mrs. Sanders.”

  “Speaking of Mr. Sanders, something seems to have changed.”

  “In what way, Dan?”

  “As you know, we’ve been able to track his movements all over Europe through his credit card use and airline record. Well, that all seems to have come to a crashing halt a couple of weeks ago. Either he’s not traveling or charging anything, or he’s managed to get a false identity that he’s switched to.”

  “Well, unless he pops back up on our radar, there’s not much we can do to locate him. In any event, I’m more interested in trying to find out if Mrs. Sanders is still alive and, if so, where she’s being held or perhaps hiding out.”

  “I’m with you on that, Frank. There’s one long shot I’ve been playing with in my head these past several weeks.”

  “What is it? At this point, a long shot may be our only shot.”

  “OK. Remember early on we learned that she spent a year in Russia with her boyfriend after they graduated university?”

  “Yeah. That’s when we talked about possible Russian contacts for espionage.”

  “Exactly. Well, what if we track down and have a talk with the old boyfriend? We might learn about their Russian friends or, for all we know, he and Mrs. Sanders might be in touch with each other. We dropped this whole line of inquiry once the kidnappers made contact. But now, with a real kidnapping looking less likely without her or her body showing up, we ought to put the espionage angle back on the table.”

  “Well, you properly labeled this a long shot. But it can’t hurt, and we’ve got no other leads to follow up on.”

  ‘OK. I’ll send it up the chain of command. As you know, this will have to wind its way up to headquarters in D.C., then get sent to the International Ops Division and then, assuming everyone approves it along the way, to the legal attaché stationed in our embassy in Brussels. He, in turn, will need to work with the Belgian national police to try to find and then interview the boyfriend.”

  “Our great bureaucracy at work. The sooner you get the request started, the sooner we’ll know.”

  “I’m on it. The request will be on its way by the end of today,” Martin said.

  CHAPTER 28

  About three weeks later, at 7:30 on a Thursday morning, Henry Whittaker and Inès Goossens got off the train in the center of Mechelen, Belgium. Special Agent Whittaker was the FBI’s liaison, officially known as legal attaché, at the U.S. embassy in Brussels. Inspecteur Goossens was a member of the Directorate of International Police Cooperation within the Belgian Federal Police. As legal attaché, Whittaker could not perform any police work on his own in Belgium; he was limited to coordinating with the Belgian police authorities, requesting their help on criminal or intelligence matters and policing with the Belgian officers only if permitted by the Belgians.

  Mechelen was a city of approximately 75,000 people halfway between Brussels and Antwerp, right along the E19 highway running between these two major Belgian cities. Despite being only 15 miles north of Brussels, the traffic around Brussels was such that the half-hour train ride was clearly the best way to travel from the center of Brussels to Mechelen. The 20-minute walk from the train station to Adegemstraat 411 was along the bank of the Dijle River, which bisected the city and led past myriad beautiful old buildings, many of them dating back to medieval times.

  The two visitors walked up the stairs to apartment 214. The door was opened a few seconds after Goossens knocked.

  “Goede morgen. Ik ben Inspecteur Goossens van de Federale Politie. Dit is de heer Whittaker. Hij is van de FBI en werkt in de Amerikaanse ambassade in Brussel.”

  “Ja. En?”

  “He doesn’t speak Flemish. Can we speak English?”

  “Fine. Yes, of course. But what is this about?”

  “Are you Luk Claessens?” asked Inspecteur Goossens.

  “Yes. But you still haven’t said what this is about. Have I done something wrong?”

  “No, you haven’t done anything wrong. As far as we know. We just need some information that you may be able to help us with. Would that be OK?”

  “Yes. Sure. Please come in and have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” said Goossens as she and Whittaker followed Luk into the small apartment, and everyone took a seat in the cramped living room.

  “Do you know a woman named Ellen Sanders?” asked Goossens.

  “No, I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

  “Excuse me,” said Whittaker. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. That’s her married name. You would know her as Ellen Van den Broeck. Does that ring a bell?”

  “Of course. Ellen and I were close friends at university. But that was a long time ago. What’s this about?”

  “Our information, after checking with several of your classmates, indicates that you were a lot closer than ‘close friends,’ ” said Goossens.

  “Well, yes, we were a couple for two years or so. Is that a crime?”

  “No. No. Not at all,” responded Goossens. “We’re just gathering some information, and we want to correctly understand the background.”

  “I can’t imagine why, but go ahead,” said Luk.

  “Did you and Ms. Van den Broeck visit the Soviet Union together?”

  “Yes. We took a trip there together right after we graduated.”

  “Where did you visit? And how long did you stay there?” asked Whittaker.

  “We were there just about a year. We spent most of our time in St. Petersburg, but we took several short trips to other cities, including Moscow, Nizhny Novgorod, um, let me see, oh yeah, Volg
ograd, the port city of Naryan-Mar and several small towns outside St. Petersburg.”

  “How did you support yourselves, and pay for everything?” asked Whittaker.

  “We both had saved some money from working part-time while at university. And we lived very cheaply, often sleeping on couches or the floors of friends. Two of the students who traveled with us rented a small apartment in St. Petersburg. Sometimes Russians whom we met let us sleep in their apartments for a day or two at a time. And we often camped outside when the weather allowed it. Why? Is there some problem about this from way back then?”

  “No,” replied Whittaker. “Can you tell us the names of your friends over there?”

  “Well, sure. We traveled over there with five other classmates. We pretty much split up once we got to St. Petersburg, but we’d usually run into a couple of them every few weeks.”

  “May we have the names of these five?” asked Goossens.

  “Well, yes. But only if it won’t get them in any trouble.”

  “It won’t, I assure you. We just want to talk with them, like we’re talking with you.”

  “OK.”

  Goossens handed him her notebook and pen and, at her request, he wrote down the five names. He also wrote down the addresses and phone numbers of the two with whom he had remained in touch over the years.