The Color of Greed (Raja Williams 1)

by Thompson, Jack

  “Other than a case of hysterics, she appears to be unharmed. I can’t say the same for the policeman lying dead in her living room.”

  “Did you say policeman?”

  “That’s what the cops thought when they got there. There was a patrol car parked outside. The dead guy was dressed in a patrolman’s uniform and shot through the heart from behind. Turns out his prints matched a suspected contract killer working out of Detroit. They are still looking for the patrolman who belongs to the uniform.”

  “Did Clarice say what happened?”

  “She says there was a blond man who shot him in the back.”

  “Did she get a good look at him?”

  “No. She only glimpsed him for a moment in her doorway. Saw mostly gun. She must have fainted. When she woke up, he was gone. The police found no trace of him when they arrived.”

  “Sounds like Clarice was lucky the guy showed up when he did.”

  “Yes, luck, that’s what it was.”

  “Well, I’m just glad Clarice is okay. Will the Santa Barbara police keep an eye on her?”

  “They’re going to post someone at the ranch until they can locate the blond guy.”

  “Thanks, Tommy. Let me know if you hear anything else.”

  “You, too.” Rafferty was a good cop. He suspected Raja knew more than he was saying. He was right.

  Chapter Thirty: The Invisible Woman Returns

  Now that Vinny had a bead on Sue Storm, it was only a matter of time before she found the reporter. Vinny ran her search programs full time, tracking all images and data they had accumulated. As it turned out Sue was hiding right under their noses in Los Angeles.

  “I’ve got fresh video,” said Vinny.

  “How recent?” asked Raja.

  “Less than an hour ago.”

  “Where?”

  “Santa Monica.”

  “Let’s go,” ordered Raja. Within three minutes, they were flying down the 405 freeway in the red Ferrari.

  “Can we track her from the car?”

  “You bet.” Vinny was locked in on her iPad screen. “No other sign of her since she entered a coffee shop on Montana Avenue near 10th called Le Cafe. She must be in there.”

  Raja downshifted to make the Santa Monica Boulevard exit ramp, and then they tooled along Montana Avenue, keeping an eye out for any sign of Sue Storm.

  “Well?” asked Raja.

  “Still nothing.”

  Raja spotted the shop and pulled over. A dirty, homeless woman sat on the bench picking at something in the tangled mess of her hair. A group of teens hanging on the sidewalk ogled the sports car as Raja and Vinny walked toward the shop door.

  “Don’t even think about it,” warned Raja, chirping the alarm.

  The teens showed their palms in a gesture of innocence as Vinny and Raja entered Le Cafe coffee shop. At a small corner table, several Eastern European men were sipping Turkish coffee from demitasse cups. Sue was nowhere in sight. A young man in a green apron was wiping the counter. Vinny showed him the picture on her iPad.

  “I remember her,” said the clerk. “She was just here a little while ago. She was in the bathroom for a long time, and then I didn’t see her. She must have left by the back door.” He pointed to the back.

  Raja raced to the door, but Sue was long gone. He and Vinny surveyed the back alley.

  “I don’t know how I lost her.” Vinny was frustrated. She did not like to lose.

  “No cameras out here,” said Raja. “Plus, she must have had transportation waiting in the alley.”

  “I’ll review video from the area and I’m sure I can pick up a lead.”

  Back inside the shop, Raja pumped the clerk for any information he had. Sue had bought a newspaper and a cup of coffee, and sat down to use the WiFi briefly. That was all the clerk remembered.

  Raja and Vinny walked back out of the coffee shop and to the Ferrari. No one had touched it. As they drove off, neither of them noticed the homeless woman trudging slowly up Santa Monica a block from the coffee shop, and if they had, neither would have recognized Sue Storm. Sue prided herself on keeping a well-groomed look, so it went against her nature to be out in public with so wretched an appearance. However, a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

  A mile from the coffee shop, Raja said, “I don’t understand what just happened. Is it possible she knows we are on to her?”

  “Could be.” Vinny showed him a picture of the homeless woman. “I checked every possible angle around that shop. That bag lady is the only person unaccounted for who could be Sue Storm.”

  Raja studied the photo. “She is good.” He wondered why Sue took the chance of being discovered. The answer came later that night, after Vinny and Raja had returned to the Studio City loft. Vinny’s iPad lit up, and a live message appeared on the screen. Vinny grabbed her iPad.

  The message read, “Hello, Vinny.” The sender was identified only as IW.

  “Who is this?” Vinny typed in return.

  “The invisible woman. Let’s leave it at that. I thought we might have some things to talk about.”

  It was Sue Storm. “Raja, come here. Quick as a bunny.”

  “Now what are you doing?” asked Raja, without moving. He wasn’t in the mood to fool around.

  “Talking to Sue Storm,” Vinny said calmly.

  Two seconds later Raja was at Vinny’s side, peering over her shoulder. “Is it really her?”

  “No doubt, boss. I’d bet your left nut on it.”

  “Why am I not reassured.”

  “Seriously, it is her. What do you want me to say?”

  “Let me see. We better ask her what she wants.”

  Vinny typed the question.

  Sue responded, “The same thing you want—justice. By the way, is Raja Williams there with you?”

  “Yes. He wants to meet with you.”

  “Never going to happen. I’m sure you’ve noticed the body count is rising. I’d rather not contribute, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay, good point,” said Vinny. “So what do we do?”

  “I have been watching you. And gathering intel on my own. I think we can help each other.”

  “Help is good,” typed Vinny.

  “Let’s start by sharing some information. I’m going to send you some files. Then we can talk.”

  The live message ended. Several compressed files arrived on Vinny’s iPad. She forwarded them immediately to her new computer. A few flicks to the touchscreen opened a list of the files. Vinny extracted them all. The largest file centered on a solar battery company called Solex Industries, and its dead CEO John Smiley. Much of the information was technical in nature.

  There were also other documents about SEC filings having to do with stock options, IPOs and a number of companies, including several lists of investors. The last file was a list of federal grants.

  It was a massive amount of information that would require sorting and analyzing. Vinny’s tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth like it always did in anticipation of an exciting or challenging task. “Raja, I think we have hit the mother lode.”

  “Anything on the judge or the governor?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just getting started. Do you want me to run a trace on Sue? She thinks I can’t, but I can trace her, boss.”

  “No, let’s not spook her now that she has made willing contact. Let’s figure out how she fits into our puzzle.”

  Chapter Thirty-one: Claus

  Vinny went to work extracting and organizing files and data. One thing was clear. Sue Storm’s story centered around John Smiley, one of the people vaporized in the Starbucks bombing. It was safe to assume that he was the target in the bombing. Vinny started a broad internet search of him and his company. While her program was running, the doorbell rang.

  Vinny opened the door. A tall serious-faced man with short blond hair stood in the doorway looking down at her. He didn’t blink.

  “Claus,” said Vinny, and threw a bear hug around him.
He didn’t return the affectionate gesture, but tolerated it, the way a large family guard dog tolerates small children who insist on petting him or pulling on his ears.

  Vinny didn’t care. “Come in, come in,” she said, dragging him by the hand. The blond man followed obediently.

  “Look who is here,” said Vinny.

  Raja had been rightfully concerned about Clarice, and so he had sent someone to watch out for her. His name was Claus von Rachen. Claus was a strange Frankenstein of different cultures. He was an Israeli Jew of Nordic German descent who smoked Syrian cigarettes. His grandfather had been a high-ranking German officer named Otto von Rachen who traced his ancestry all the way back to Charlemagne. Otto married a Jewish woman prior to World War II, and kept his wife’s status hidden as the persecutions against Jewish citizens in Germany grew violent. Then, when she got pregnant, he sacrificed himself to get her out of Germany safely. After the war, she settled in the newly formed State of Israel, and raised Claus’s father on a kibbutz outside of Ashkelon. Claus himself served in the Mossad after training as a sharpshooter in the military, and rumor was that he had killed a sizable number of Hezbollah and Hamas extremists before leaving official service. Of course, rumor was all there was, as Claus never talked about his past. In fact, Claus rarely spoke at all, which was one of the things Raja liked most about him.

  The two had first met in Switzerland during an investigation into stolen art and jewelry dating to the Nazi Third Reich of World War II. Raja had been instrumental in recovering personal artifacts that belonged to Claus’s German family. Claus had said only thank you, only once, and then handed Raja a phone number. After that, all Raja had to do was call and Claus would immediately come to his aid. Whenever Raja completed a case he was working on, Claus would mysteriously vanish without so much as a goodbye. Where Claus went and what he did between the times Raja saw him, Raja didn’t know or care to ask. His trust in Claus was beyond compromise.

  Claus smoked a cheap brand of non-filter Syrian cigarettes, a habit he had picked up while on covert missions against Hezbollah agents in the Middle East. The cigarettes were as harsh as they come, but well suited to Claus’s stoic nature.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” said Raja. He knew the English idiom would be lost on Claus.

  True to form, Claus wondered why Raja referred to Vinny as a cat. Claus said nothing. Raja immediately walked to the bar and poured three shots of Ouzo, Claus’s favorite beverage.

  “Skol,” said Claus. He, Raja and Vinny knocked the drinks back in one tilt.

  “You killed the assassin, Claus,” said Raja.

  “Yes.”

  “Now I can’t ask him who he worked for.”

  “You told me only to protect the woman.”

  Raja could never kid with Claus. He took everything literally. Raja suspected that Claus had no sense of humor. He had never even seen Claus smile. That made him a predictably reliable associate, but not much fun for conversation. “And you did the right thing, of course,” said Raja. “Good work.”

  Claus nodded curtly. “Thank you.”

  “Please, sit,” said Vinny, pointing to the tan leather couch. Claus sat down, and Vinny crowded right next to him.

  “By the way, Claus, I understand the man was in full police uniform and you shot him in the back,” said Raja. “How did you know he wasn’t an actual policeman?”

  “The way he walked.”

  “The way he walked?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m very glad you are on my side, Claus. Thanks again.”

  “Welcome.”

  A call came in from Detective Rafferty.

  “Yes, Tommy, it’s Raja.”

  “I have some follow up on the shooting at Clarice Hope’s ranch. Thought you should know. They found a dead patrolman in the bushes a mile away from the ranch. One shot in the head. Stripped of his uniform. He might be another victim of the mysterious blond man.”

  Raja looked over at Claus sitting on his couch. “From what you told me, I doubt it,” said Raja. “I’d be willing to bet the ballistics will match the gun from the guy you found in the ranch house wearing the police uniform.”

  “And I’m sure I won’t take that bet,” said Rafferty. “You seem to know a lot about this Santa Barbara case.”

  “Only what you have told me.”

  “Uh-huh. Ask you no questions and you will tell me no lies.”

  “Sometimes a wise policy.”

  “I figured as much. You should know, there is an APB out on the blond man, whoever he is.”

  “I don’t see that as a problem, but I do appreciate your concern.” Claus was as good as they come at blending in and being invisible. He reminded Raja of the performance artists in Europe who are painted to blend into the environment, the ones you never know are there until they move. Without changing his appearance, Claus had the uncanny ability, honed over years of dangerous undercover work, to operate in any environment undetected.

  After the phone call ended, Claus was nowhere to be found. Raja looked at Vinny. Although Vinny had suggested Claus stay the night at the loft, she knew it was mere gesture. As expected, Claus had declined with a simple no. And now, like the ghost he was, he disappeared leaving no trace or indication of where he was going.

  “Gone,” she said.

  As little as Raja actually knew about Claus, he trusted him like a brother. Claus never asked for money, and he always showed up when Raja needed him.

  Raja did not know who had sent the killer after Clarice Hope, but it was an overt move that smelled of paranoia and panic. Panic was a good sign in a case like this. It meant he and Vinny were on the right track. Now it was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Thirty-two: Fool’s Gold

  The next morning Vinny found more files waiting for her on her iPad. After loading them onto her computer, she continued her systematic search and collation of data from the files. When Raja woke up she had already discovered new facts relevant to their case.

  “No breakfast?” asked Raja, sleepily, after he stumbled down the staircase. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

  “No time, boss.”

  “I see you have been busy,” he said, noting the pile of printouts she had already made. “I meant to ask you how Sue managed to find us.”

  “She mirrored my iPad signature,” said Vinny.

  “Vinny, are you telling me she hacked you?”

  “Hell to the no. Not hacked. She just copied my pathway so she could use it to ping communication back to me without being easily traced. She must have accessed it by using a Bluetooth scanner when we were close to her.”

  “How close?”

  “Less than one hundred feet.”

  “When we went to the coffee shop?”

  “That would be my bet. I can track her down, if you would like.”

  “Let it go, girl.”

  “Okay, what ev. But I’m just saying.”

  “I know you are, Vinny. What did you find out so far?”

  “This is about money—large quantities of. The company Sue was investigating was an integral part of a host of green energy companies vying for billions in government grants and loans. Not only that, it appears the Chinese have been lining up to invest.”

  “That explains the Chinese nationals who were at the governor’s party,” said Raja.

  “Sue had just begun to look into campaign finance, as well. You think the Chinese were backing the governor?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me. It would be a good way to hedge their investments.”

  “I thought that was illegal?”

  “Tomayto, tomahto. It’s all about finding daylight in a decidedly poor excuse for campaign finance law. Or skirting the law altogether. Asking or expecting politicians to bite the hand that feeds them is a fool’s errand.”

  “So far, what Sue had uncovered was fraudulent technical results from Solex that were used in green energy grant applications. She is convinced there is a deliberate conspiracy at work
that she and others have threatened.”

  “Others who are dead, like Randy Hope.”

  “Yes, and the guy she calls Solarman. She is genuinely scared, and needs our help.”

  “And help her, we shall,” said Raja. “But, we need more than a theory. You need to find us a trail to follow. And, I need to think.”

  What Raja meant by think was really the opposite. During a case he was like a dog worrying a bone. Once he got his teeth into something, he wouldn’t let go. It was a good thing. However, sometimes he got so close he would get myopic. Then he would step back away from the case and let go of his thoughts. Like someone doing a jigsaw puzzle, he would visualize the big picture and let all the pieces fall into place.

  Listening to music helped him let go of the details of a case. He sat down in his listening chair and put on the headphones. Pressing the remote raised a small screen in front of him, and he scrolled through a list of musical pieces. Something spacious and dynamic would do the trick. He stopped on Mussorsky, pressed play and settled back into the chair.

  While Raja made space with the music, pictures of the victims and suspects floated in and out of view. There was a correct pattern where they all came together, if he could just see it.

  Meanwhile Vinny sifted through page after page of documents. She took key data and names and did expanded internet searches looking for relevant ties to their victims.

  While she was working, Vinny’s iPad lit up. There was a message coming in from Sue Storm. It said only, “Check this out.” There was an attached file.

  Vinny tried never to interrupt Raja when he was listening to music. However, after opening the file from Sue Storm, she felt compelled to break in. She stood over Raja, hesitating only a moment.

  “Yes, Vinny,” said Raja, feeling her intention. He removed his headphones.

  “The latest file Sue sent is amazeballs. You have to see this.” Vinny opened a video file onto the full computer screen. It showed a man and woman engaged in foreplay.

  “Is that who I think it is?”

  “No doubt. Governor Black and his favorite porn star, Cherry Long.”

  Raja watched as the two got down to business.