However, a few moments later, they heard Mazlo tell Amanda he should not be disturbed because he had a video call to make. The distinctive tones of a video call being connected came over the laptop’s speakers, and then a voice said, “Wellborne Industries. How may I direct your call?”
Jo felt Frisco shift on the couch next to her and he quietly muttered. “Holy shit. He called Wellborne. Why the hell would he tip his hand like that?”
They both leaned in a little closer to the laptop. Mazlo said, “I’d like to speak to Mr. Wellborne, please. He’s not expecting my call, but tell him it’s an old buddy from high school.”
After a moment, they heard a deep, male voice Jo immediately recognized as belonging to the oil company’s CEO and founder. “Jonathon Wellborne, here. What can I do for you?”
They heard Mazlo say, “Mr. Wellborne, it's been a long time. This is Michael Mazlo. Do you remember me? We were in the same graduating class in Duluth, but of course, we didn't travel in the same social circles. You were the captain of the football and baseball teams and I was the captain of the chess team.
Wellborne sounded impatient when he answered, “Of course, of course I remember you. Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a lot of time to talk right now. What can I help you with?”
“I'm calling about more than a walk down memory lane. I'm now an adjunct professor at the University of Minnesota, and I’ve been mentoring a student who created a little documentary I think you'll be interested in viewing.”
The CEO spoke. “Are you talking about those two punk kids who came in here a couple of weeks ago?”
“Those punk kids gave me some information that just might sink you and your company. Here, let me show you the reports they received from your compliance guy.”
There was a pause, and Jo assumed Mazlo was holding up the compliance reports he had received from Rick and Billy to the camera on his computer. He continued, “Look familiar? Tsk, tsk…you really haven’t been a very good corporate citizen you know. What with all those levels of chemicals in the ground water around Williston.”
Wellborne interrupted, his voice deepening into a growl. “You think I am afraid of you, you arrogant little shit? The government has come after us before, and all they can manage is a few miniscule fines here and there. May I add, with a lot more data than your little watch dogs found by talking with my staff.”
Mazlo’s voice was confident when he replied, “Ah, but I have no intention of going to the government. I know you’d only get a slap on the wrist, just like before. No, I’d go to the networks and CNN. I'm sure public opinion would hold a lot more sway than the feds’ attempts at keeping you in line.”
Wellborne’s voice had grown deadly. “What do you want, Mazlo?”
“I want in. Oh, not in the oil business. But you see, there are a lot of ways to make money in your neck of the woods.”
After a moment the CEO said, “I'm listening.”
“Let me be blunt here. My dad, brothers and I have built up quite a little industry, dealing in the flesh trade, particularly here in the Twin Cities. We want to expand our operations to the oil fields of North Dakota.” Jo could hear the haughtiness in Mazlo’s voice as he continued, “You’ll have your oil pipelines and we’ll have our trafficking pipelines.”
Wellborne snorted. “You don't need my permission to do that. From what I hear, there's plenty of sex trafficking going on here already.”
“But that's the point. We want to be the exclusive traders up in the oil patch, and I know you've got that kind of pull. I did some checking on you. I’ve heard the local police chief plays poker with you every Thursday night. I’m sure he’d be happy to do you a favor or two, being close pals and all.”
He chuckled and continued, “So, do we have a deal? I keep the documentary under wraps and you grant us open access.”
The oil executive was silent for a moment and then he said, “I’m curious. How does an adjunct college professor become involved in sex trafficking?”
Mazlo’s voice was cold when he replied, “Let’s just say it’s an old family business. I initially went to college to learn how to run our operations more efficiently and hide money. Along the way, I discovered college campuses were a great place to find naïve and beautiful young flesh for foreign customers with discerning tastes. Now, about my proposal. Do we have a deal or not?”
“What about the two kids who made the documentary? They're not just going to roll over.”
Mazlo chuckled. “They won't be a problem. I will make sure they won't say a thing. Ever. Now, are you in or are you out?”
Wellborne’s voice sounded ancient when he responded. “I’ll make the call to the police chief.”
Frisco turned to Jo after it was clear there was nothing else of importance on the audio file. “Good God. Can you believe that piece of filth?”
Jo felt sick to her stomach, only this time it had nothing to do with being pregnant. The idea that Mazlo and Wellborne could talk about human lives with such disregard made her ill. Not only the lives of their victims, but all the people who had been trafficked in her hometown, by Mazlo and his family. She suddenly remembered the flyer for the missing college woman’s vigil she had seen at Mazlo’s house. Jo was now certain he was connected to her disappearance.
“I always knew the Twin Cities had a bad reputation for human trafficking. Our interstate system, as well as our proximity to the Canadian border makes us a prime location. And heaven knows, there is a huge problem with the exploitation of Native American Women in the area. But, to hear Mazlo talk about it and to know he’s responsible…” She shook her head. “How does a man lead a double life of adjunct college professor and sex trafficker? We’re going to do something about this. And I mean fast.”
The detective’s face was grim when he said, “Count me in. So, what’s our first step?”
Jo sat for a moment, thinking. “We’re going to talk to Wellborne. Let’s see if he’s willing to plea bargain to save his company.” When she saw the frown on Frisco’s face, she said, “Don’t worry. He’ll still get his. Thanks to Rick and Billy, we’ve
got enough to damn near bankrupt him.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Turners Bend
March
CHIP STOOD AT THE KITCHEN WINDOW, his first cup of coffee of the day in his hand. The early morning sky was gray; the temperature on the outdoor thermometer read a minus four degrees. If Dickens was around to pen the opening line for today, Chip thought it might read…There was nothing happening and everything was about to happen. It was a time of suspended animation.
After the excitement in St. Paul and the short respite at Captiva, all was back to normal…the new normal where Hal was still a lingering threat and Chip was plagued by constant unease and lagging motivation.
Jane was preparing to leave the house. “I thought you didn’t have any appointments today,” said Chip.
“I don’t, so I thought I’d drive over to Madrid and take a look at the Lely Astronaut A4 that Sunny Day Farms just installed. I’ve never seen one in operation.”
“What the heck is that? Sounds like a video game.”
“It’s a robotic milking system. A cow decides when she wants to feed, enters a stall and sensors automatically attach the milking machine to her udder. Very high tech and very costly. I think it runs about $200,000 per cow and Sunny Day has a herd of about 120.”
“Whoa, that’s bizarre. So a dairy farmer can just flip a switch and then head to the Bun for coffee. Speaking of, I think I’ll head there for breakfast this morning. I’ll just flip the switch on my laptop and see if it will write the next chapter of Head Shot.”
***
The Bun was crowded and Chip took a seat at the counter next to a guy in a brown uniform, a dead give-away for UPS. Bernice was bustling behind the counter. “What’s your newest bakery delight?” asked Chip.
“Cronuts, a croissant-donut hybrid. Today’s are filled with chocolate. The guy next to you
just ate three, and I’m not hearing any complaints.” Bernice laughed, gave Chip a cup of coffee and put a cronut in front of him. “Like it or leave it, I don’t have time to take your order, Chip, especially when I can read your mind.” She spotted a raised cup and rushed off to deliver refills.
Chip ate the cronut in three bites and turned to the delivery man. “Not bad, huh? Name’s Chip Collingsworth. Are you new on the route?”
“Most folks call me Smitty. No, I took over this route last year. Not too many deliveries to Turners Bend, although I’ve been making lots of drops to that weird place out on County Road 17. Guy won’t let me on the property. I have to call him and he meets me out near the “No Trespassing” sign. What’s going on out there?”
“From what I understand Rod Mueller is an anti-government nut. He took a shot at me once, so be careful.”
“I’ve been delivering lots of stuff with hazard warnings on the boxes, but today I’m dropping a box from Amazon. It’s some kind of cookware. Makes me wonder what he’s cooking out there. Suppose I shouldn’t be talking about what I deliver, but that dude creeps me out, even more so now from what you just told me.”
Smitty finished his last swallow of coffee and put a five dollar bill on the counter. “Nice talking with you, Chip. This place has awesome baked goods; maybe I’ll see you here again some time.”
Chip felt an adrenaline rush, his skin began to prickle and he could almost feel the sparks jumping between the synapses of his brain. He had to find Fredrickson or Agent Masterson quick. He scanned the tables; neither of them was in the cafe. He paid for his breakfast and headed first for the FBI office. Agent Masterson was behind her desk.
“What’s up, Collingsworth?” Chip was reminded again that the agent was never much for pleasantries; she always got right down to business.
“Do you know about Rod Mueller and the Republic of Iowa out on County Road 17?” asked Chip, taking the chair in front of her desk, talking fast and sweating despite a chilly draft in the office.
“Oh yes, he’s been on our watch list for years. I’ve got a pretty thick file on him. Why do you ask?”
Chip related his conversation with the UPS guy. “I remember you saying someone in Iowa had contacts with Hakim, Baba’s brother. I’m just wondering if it could be Mueller.”
Agent Masterson sat up very straight and began to punch things into her computer. She stopped and stared at the monitor. “Well, well, well. Chip you just broke this case wide open. Hakim is a chemical engineer. He’s known as the “Master Bomb Maker” of the Wahhabi Muslims in Ethiopia. Looks like our friend Mr. Mueller may be learning how to make bombs from him. I’ve got a lot of work to do to confirm our suspicions, but if this is the case, the FBI is going to make a little visit to the Republic of Iowa. This is big. I don’t have to tell you can’t say a word about this to anyone, not Jane, not Fredrickson, not Baba. If you leak this, I’ll have your hide. Remember Manning, remember Snowden?”
Chip gulped. “Yes, Ma’am.”
***
Back home Chip reflected on his early morning Dickensian musings. Nothing was happening yet, but something was surely going to happen soon, and maybe all hell would break loose in Turners Bend.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Head Shot
Minneapolis, MN
Early November
DARK CLOUDS SCUDDED ACROSS the November sky, and the Minneapolis skyline blurred in Jo’s windshield when it began to drizzle. In spite of feeling exhausted, her mind buzzed like a hive.
Jo planned their next steps to take down Michael Mazlo for his role in the attempted murder of Rick Wilson and the death of the other young people, as well as his role in a sex trafficking ring. She and Frisco would have their hands full.
She knew the evidence they currently had on the adjunct professor was shaky at best, and so they had no choice but to contact Wellborne to find out what else he knew. The audio file they had recovered was dated a few days before the murder attempt on Rick Wilson, and so there was a good chance there had been more conversations between Mazlo and the CEO.
She yawned and looked at the clock on the dashboard. Two in the morning and it was going to be hard to turn her brain off.
When Jo yawned a second time, she reflected John would not be happy with how she was taking care of herself, especially now that she was pregnant. She rested her hand on her slightly rounded stomach.
To be honest, she was looking forward to the doctor’s appointment tomorrow, but the timing couldn’t be worse. This case was sucking up all her time and concentration. Jo knew her priorities needed to change, now that she had another life to consider.
Her mind unwillingly shifted back to her case, and she spent the rest of the drive home mentally shuffling her priorities for the upcoming day
***
Several hours later, after a much-too-brief night’s sleep, Jo was back in her office, with a bleary-eyed Frisco seated in the chair in front of her desk. Her first phone call of the morning was to Detective Ron Fischer of the Williston police department.
For Frisco’s benefit, she had the call on speaker phone. When Fischer answered the call, his booming voice filled the room. “Hello, Jo. What can I do for you?”
Jo smiled and replied, “Good morning, Ron. Detective Mike Frisco of the St. Paul PD is here with me. We’ve made significant progress on our case since we last spoke, but we could use your help with the next step.”
“Whatever you need. Mind getting me up to speed?”
Jo filled him in on what they had discovered the previous evening. She concluded, “Wellborne isn’t our killer. The evidence points to the adjunct professor.”
The detective’s shrill whistle came through the phone line. “Jesus. Why on earth would he do that to his own student?”
“We’re hoping to get some answers today, but it looks like he was blackmailing Wellborne to help him establish an exclusive sex trafficking operation in the oil field region.”
“What made him think Wellborne had that kind of pull?”
Jo took a deep breath. “Because Wellborne and your police chief are poker buddies.”
Fischer was silent for so long, that for a moment, Jo thought they had lost the connection. She said, “Ron, you still there?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Just trying to wrap my brain around my boss being a crooked asshole and another sex trafficking ring in my territory. For fuck’s sake.” He paused and when he spoke again, his voice sounded as if it were made of steel. “Tell me what to do.”
Jo told him.
***
Detective Fischer called back an hour later. Fischer’s voice once again filled the room. “Special Agent Schwann and Detective Frisco, I’m in the office of Jonathon Wellborne. He’s…uh, curious about what you have to say.”
When Wellborne spoke, his voice had an edge to it. “Agent Schwann. What’s the meaning of this? I’m calling my attorney. We’ve bent over backwards assisting with your case, but this is flat-out harassment. We….”
Jo interrupted. “There are new developments in our case that affect you directly. If you will allow me time to explain, I think you’ll see it is in your best interests - and those of your company - to cooperate further.”
“This should prove entertaining.”
“We know all about the falsified water contamination reports. We also know about your side deal with Mazlo.”
“Who? I’ve never heard of him.”
“Oh, I think you have. You went to high school with him, but he was also the adjunct professor mentoring Rick Wilson’s fracking documentary. Originals of your contamination reports are locked up in his desk drawer, and we’ll have them by the end of the day when we go to his office with a search warrant. We already have Rick Wilson’s testimony as to what those reports contain…”
Frisco shot Jo a look at her bluff, but said nothing as she continued. “…but your cooperation will be considered. We both know that those reports will bring down your company the minu
te we turn them over to the EPA and every other agency involved.”
“And just what do you want in return?”
“We want your testimony that Michael Mazlo tried to blackmail you in order to set up an exclusive trafficking ring in the oil region and he informed you of his plans to kill Rick Wilson and Billy MacGregor.”
Wellborne’s laugh was harsh. “That’s ridiculous. Just supposing this Mazlo did try to blackmail me, how on earth would I go about getting him exclusive rights to a sex trade here? I’m just a simple business man, after all….”
“Oh, I think you underestimate your powers of persuasion. We already know about your cozy relationship with the chief of police in Williston.”
She paused to let her words sink in. “Just so we’re clear, this offer has a shelf-life of about two minutes.”
“You’ve got nothing solid, or else the fine detective standing next to me would already have me in cuffs. This is all a bluff and I’m calling my attorney.”
“I assure you, I am not bluffing. You are welcome to call your legal counsel, but that’ll take time. By then, my offer will be off the table. Oh, and did I mention that at the expiration of our offer, we’ll charge you with accessory to murder, as well as re-opening the accidental death case of your compliance officer? Sounds like you’ll be plenty busy in the next several years.”
When her comment was greeted with silence, she pressed home her point. “We have your entire conversation with Michael Mazlo on tape and we will have the reports in our hands shortly. I’d hate to be you when the media finds out you pumped poisons in the water supply and made a deal with the devil to cover it up by inviting in a sex trafficker. I’d say you’re in a rather delicate situation, wouldn’t you agree?”
When Wellborne spoke again, his voice had lost its usual swagger. “Seems you’ve got me by the short hairs.” Jo could hear a heavy sigh from across the miles. “What do I need to do?”
Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 03 - Writing Can Be Murder Page 20