by Alec Peche
It was time to get back to the case. The apartment had secure Wi-Fi, so Jill planted herself on the sofa with her laptop and got to work. She had lost two-thirds of her day to Aleksandra and her subsequent relocation to San Francisco. She had e-mails waiting from Jo, Marie, and Angela. There was another e-mail from Detective Carlson.
Jo had written I have been reviewing the financial affairs of Lott. Wow, what a mess. I think I could waste a lot of time trying to track the money trail for his years in office. But all of that is well known and in the public record. I thought instead that I would examine his finances starting with his move to San Juan. He has regular payments hitting his bank account titled trust fund interest. Those funds are a quarter of a million dollars every month, which adds up to over three million on an annual basis. No legitimate investment in the world gives a person that kind of return. Need some more time to run this down. Got to run, Jo
It was great that Jo had a full-time day job, but for the first time she wished that she had Jo's full time and attention. She felt like she been left with a cliffhanger. Jill sent back an e-mail thanking her for her work. She gave her a breezy update of her encounters with Aleksandra and added her request that Jo urgently work on the case. She truly wished that she could employ her friends full-time, but she'd never planned her second opinion on the cause of death business to be a full-time job. Right now, it was a race for information on who could find it first, the SFPD, the FBI, or Jill and her team.
Next she opened an e-mail from Angela. She had one more thought regarding her interaction with Lott and had reviewed her notes. He said that he met with Graeme for a routine update of the trust. He said the trust rather than my trust. Which may be kind of odd? I’ll keep thinking about my meeting with Lott, but I think I've e-mailed you all of the relevant nuances.
Jill had to agree with Angela that it was an unusual statement. She'd have to go back to the law firm and inquire as to whether there was more than one trust associated with Mr. Lott. Next she opened the e-mail from Marie. Her sources at times seemed equal to those of homeland security or at least what she thought homeland security might collect on a person.
Marie had sent a long e-mail about Lott. She had verified his impressive education. His undergraduate major was biology. He served as a research assistant while at the university. He took a year off and served in the Peace Corps in Macedonia 1980. He had planned to go to medical school but couldn’t pass the admission interview. So he re-directed to law school instead. He then held a series of political aide positions. None of these positions paid particularly well. By the time the political aide positions ended so had marriage number two. Marriage number one had ended during his last year of law school.
Lott then held 2 positions to which he was appointed. He had been appointed by his local city council to advisory committee roles. He then ran for a board role with the local public utility. He moved on to run for city council and was elected to serve 4 years but was not re-elected. About a year later, his ex-city council members appointed him as the city manager, a position he held for 10 years (through 2 more marriages). It was during these 10 years that he seemed to bully, bribe, or threaten nearly every public official with something. He knew their secrets and used those secrets to extort money or power and then do it all over again because he had been successful the first time. With full city council approval, his salary was increased to nearly one million dollars a year. Likewise, his pension matched his highest year of income.
He set up a trust called the Ttolyerffej in the Caymans. According to newspaper accounts, he routed the money from the city to Albania. A city clerk had thought it a misspelling for the nearby city of Albany. The money moved from Albania to Iceland to the Caymans. With the collapse of the Icelandic banking system beginning in 2008, valuable paperwork was lost and the critical link between bank accounts gone. The Iceland meltdown (no pun intended) allowed him to escape prosecution at that time.
Three years ago, a complete turnover of the city council occurred, and Lott was fired. The Attorney General worked out a deal for him to leave the country with all of the money if he sold out the 2 most corrupt politicians. He quickly did so and moved to San Juan. Everyone cheered his departure, thinking that their secrets would be buried out of the country. He built a house, and found a new wife. I don’t have his most recent tax returns yet, but I expect to have them by tomorrow. My advice as a human resources expert is don’t hire him! Have fun with this, Marie.
“Fun?” Exclaimed Jill.
The two agents stared at her and said in unison, “What?”
Jill peered up and said to them, "My friend Marie gave me the complicated history of Lott. Her parting message was to have fun with the information."
“Yeah, I'm having fun all right. I miss my man and his cooking. I miss my dog. I'm being shot at by an Albanian sniper. Yep, that is in Webster's dictionary for the definition of fun."
One agent, all business, ignored her meltdown and asked, "What's the complicated history of Lott?"
"Did you know that Macedonia shares a border with Albania? Our Mr. Lott served in the Peace Corps in Macedonia. Makes me think it’s not a coincidence that the sniper is from the neighboring country. What are the odds that these 2 have a connection somehow? Give me a minute, and I'm going to insert this data into my software program and see what probability comes up for Lott being our crook.”
Jill entered the data that Marie had given her into her software program, and the algorithm gave her a 72 percent chance that Lott and Aleksandra knew each other. It gave her a 61 percent probability that Lott was her criminal. She would concentrate all her efforts and those of her team on Lott. Lott was undoubtedly an unscrupulous character, easily sliding into white-collar crime at times. So the big question was what information Graeme had on Lott that was worth killing for.
Jill provided an e-mail summation of her findings so far to Detective Carlson and Agent Ortiz. Unfortunately, they were not as forthcoming with Jill as she was with them. She knew she couldn't complain given the level of protection around her at the moment. She could not have organized or afforded it on her own.
She did have an e-mail from Agent Ortiz.
The legal experts in the FBI are still wading through the huge amount of information regarding the Lott case. The one comment made by one of our attorneys was that while Lott was still employed, he sought counsel with Graeme’s law firm. Graeme is not listed as the attorney of record for that advice.
Jill couldn’t resist and entered this one new piece of information about Lott’s relationship with the law firm into the software program. The probability that Lott was the culprit climbed to 81 percent. Now that was a statistic guaranteed to catch Jill's attention. She shared this probability with everyone involved in the case in hopes of generating a renewed sense of urgency and purpose to center on Lott. Both the SFPD and the FBI used criminal behavior analysis to help direct investigative work, but that was different than her software. She would ask what probabilities they were getting on Lott.
Jill made a list of the things she wanted to know about Lott to help her focus her research. She wanted to find the source of the quarter million dollar deposit made to his bank account each month. She wanted a list of all of the work the law firm had done or would be doing for Lott. Included in that would be the names of the partners and employees that did work for the client. She wanted to track the relationship between Alexandra Gora and Lott. She needed to know if there was more than one trust. She also wanted to know if as a research assistant Lott had ever ordered bacterial cultures for the university. Finally, she wanted to know how he occupied his days in San Juan.
She thought that if she had the answers to all of her questions, she might know why Graeme was dead. She shared her thoughts with members of her group, knowing that they were all at work and unable to provide her with any useful information until later this evening. She really needed Jo's financial expertise to track the money. She decided that she would ask Marie to rese
arch the relationship between Gora and Lott. She would take her final 2 questions and see what she could do with them.
Jill called the university where Lott had been a research assistant. "Hello, this is Dr. Jill Quint, and I would like to be transferred to one of your biology labs. I'm a forensic pathologist with a question for a research assistant."
Jill thought she was a lousy actor, so she tried to go with the truth whenever possible. It seemed to work in this situation.
“Yes, may I help you.” A male voice sounded in Jill’s ear.
"Hello, this is Dr. Jill Quint. To whom am I speaking?"
"This is Joe Chan. You were transferred to the molecular biology lab.”
“Are you a research assistant?"
"Yes, ma'am, I am."
“Thank you for taking my call. I am a forensic pathologist, and I have a question for you. Does your lab purchase bacteria colonies or agars in either the student classrooms or in the research lab? Do you order agars with specific bacteria for use in the lab?"
"Yes, ma'am, a part of my duties is to keep supplies on hand for teaching and research purposes."
"What company supplies your agars? Is there anything special in the order and delivery process because they're dealing with live bacterial cultures?"
"The university has used the same supplier for 30 or 40 years.”
“Really? That is unusual.”
“I was given a history of the supplier when I first started as a research assistant because I was told that it was the only company we have a contract with. We do so because the lab supply business originated with this university. Fifty years ago we needed agars for much the same purpose as we do today. We were having problems consistently supplying our classrooms, which interfered with the teaching process. Two biology fellows at the time developed their own process for creating clean, ready-for-sale bacterial agars. They moved the business off-campus to a warehouse located in Albany about 30 years ago when the business became too big for the university to handle. The original fellows became the CEO and COO of the company and have passed it down to their respective families."
"And the delivery process, anything special about that?”
"Special how?”
“Do the cultures need to be refrigerated? Do they come by special delivery truck, or do they come through a standard shipper? Is a signature required for delivery?”
“These are unusual questions, Dr. Quint. The agars are stored at room temperature. They are not supposed to be exposed to extreme heat or cold or bright sunlight. The company sends them via UPS. A signature is required to accept delivery. A copy of that signature is submitted with the bill for our agars to our billing department. Does that answer your questions?"
"Yes, you have been very helpful. One final question, when an order is submitted for an agar, are you required to prove that it is to be used at the university?"
"No, ma'am, we been doing business with the company for 50 years."
“Thank you again for your help. I may have a few more questions for you in the future if you don't mind." Jill ended the call.
So Lott would have ordered agars in his work as a research assistant for the university 30 years ago. Now the question was, had he stolen agars from the university supply room, or had he been able to convince the supplier of his university relationship? Who was the source of the agars needed by Lott, if indeed it was Lott? Was he even the manufacturer of this bacterial weapon? Had he done the work himself or hired someone else to experiment?
She would ask Agent Ortiz to investigate if Lott had left Puerto Rico in the last 90 days. Surely she had a way to trace that. Next she would try placing an online order with the supplier to see how strong its controls were. It was getting close to dinner time. Jill took a break and explored the kitchen. She hoped that it was stocked with wine. She could use a large glass after her adventurous day. The refrigerator had the basics: milk, butter, eggs, cheese, condiments, salad dressing, and a few bags of ready-made salads. The freezer was a single person's paradise, filled with frozen dinners, frozen pizzas, frozen soups, frozen bread, and frozen vegetables.
"Agents, what’s the protocol for meals? Do we dine together?”
"Jill, you are on your own. We have scheduled shifts and time off and will take care of our own meals during that time. We have both been in this safehouse before, so we know what the provisions are."
"Is there any wine?"
"Yes, have you ever had two buck Chuck from Trader Joe's? We stock all five varieties here. All the comforts of home. They are in the cabinet under the sink,” said Agent O’Sullivan with a huge smile.
"As I haven't produced my first wines yet, I can't afford to be a snob about Charles Shaw winery. He has sold a few million bottles of wine. After I sell my first 100,000 bottles, perhaps I’ll consider myself to be more his equal with commercial success. Until then, I'll gratefully drink a glass of two buck Chuck.”
Jill grabbed a bottle of Merlot and removed the cork. She poured a glass and allowed it to breathe. She went back to the freezer to study her choices. She selected a pepperoni pizza, knowing that it was a good complement to the Merlot. The pizza and wine fortified her for more research. She didn’t think that Aleksandra had given up on her. Jill figured that she would make her next attempt tomorrow.
She had asked her FBI guards about Aleksandra wearing a disguise to get into the building, and they had assured her that the facial recognition software would still sort through a disguise. Jill would look up what info Interpol had on Aleksandra. Perhaps she would be able to anticipate the sniper’s next move. She was happy to be sleeping in the safe room. She thought she would rest better. She doubted that Aleksandra would be able to cut the electricity of this building.
She spent the next hour studying the crimes Interpol credited to Aleksandra. Damn, she was accurate. It was Interpol’s guess that she had averaged 1 hit every 3 months for 10 years. She had been less productive at the beginning of her career. She concentrated her work in Europe, Africa, and Asia. She avoided Australia, North and South America, and the Middle East. She liked to shoot victims in their homes and often cut the power. Interpol speculated that this was to reduce her victims’ access to telephones, elevators, alarm systems, and security cameras. She had likely cut Jill's power from habit, a big mistake on her part.
Jill asked Agent Brown, who sat on the other couch, “Can you find out more about Aleksandra’s hits from Interpol? I feel like I’m stuck with one sentence summaries rather than the full details of her hits. Surely sometime in her career she had a hit in a high-rise like this building. How did she arrange the hit?”
“Jill, keeping you safe is the sworn duty of the FBI. You don’t need to worry about her next move. You’re safe here,” Agent Brown said reassuringly.
“So, Agent Brown, were you prepared to have Aleksandra knock you out and tie you up this morning? Since it worked, I would like to think that you didn’t know of her style in advance. From the sketchy detail I can read in these cases, she usually takes out bodyguards in this very same manner. She never kills anyone except the person she is paid to hit. She seems to be an ethical sniper. Did any of your briefings tell you that?”
Agent Brown looked at her with chagrin. “Actually, I did know of her record of not shooting bodyguards, but I did not know that she typically strikes the guards from the back. Sad to say I know now.”
“What else do you know about the way she operates?”
“Probably not much more than you do. I don’t have the answer on high-rises. Let me see what I can find on the Interpol computers.” He put some data into the computer.
Fifteen minutes later, he sent her an Excel file that contained information about all of Aleksandra’s hits. The list was full of data like time of day, day of week, weapon, and bullet placement. They both studied the data looking for clues as to how she would strike next. She thought the FBI had a profiler, but this was different. Her only target was Jill, and the timing was as soon as possible.
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br /> Simple. Find the victim. Kill the victim. Collect your fee. Aleksandra seemed to disappear until her next job. Maybe she used her hit fee to remodel her kitchen. Bought a new rifle scope, got a face job to hide her identity. She had avoided the police for over a decade. That suggested that she was as skilled at hiding in plain sight as she was at shooting.
Jill looked at the hits by location. About 10 percent were window-to-window. Aleksandra got across from the victim’s window on approximately the same level and aimed and fired. She looked up at the windows in this apartment. The view was San Francisco Bay, so there were no buildings directly in front of her windows. Jill looked at Agent Brown.
“About 10 percent of her hits are through windows in high-rises. I can see that we have a view of the bay. Can you get close to the window here and in my bedroom and see if she could get an angle shot from another building into these windows?”
The agent got up and followed Jill’s request. The building directly in front of the IRS building in which they were housed was approximately 7 stories shorter and was the headquarters of the San Francisco FBI. Agent Brown planned to ask the firearms expert if the marksman could hit the safehouse windows. The agent had the requisite shooting certificates, but the physics of bullet trajectories was beyond his ballistics knowledge. It was a question of the bullet’s distance, the wind, and angles. He sent a text to the ballistics division asking someone there to confirm that the roof would not make a great sniper’s perch to hit residents in the safehouse.
"Jill, the only building potentially within rifle range of these windows is the headquarters of the FBI across street. It's shorter than this building, but I will affirm that a hit cannot be made from the roof across the street. I think you're safe for now. Aleksandra has to find you first, and then she would have to make it through the highly secure FBI building to gain access to the roof. I'm expecting an answer from our ballistics expert early tomorrow morning."