Besides, maybe Lieberman was the target, in a way."
Sawyer's head jerked back. "How's that?"
"Think about it. You already answered your own question."
Hardy's point suddenly came to him. Sawyer's face grew dark.
"You mean you think this guy Archer arranged to blow up the plane because we'd think Lieberman was the target? Come on, Frank, that's a helluva stretch."
Hardy countered. "Well if we hadn't lucked out with this video, that's exactly what you'd still be thinking, isn't it? Remember, there's one unique thing about an airplane crash, particularly one where the aircraft collides with the ground relatively intact, as happened here."
Sawyer's face turned ashen while he thought it through. "No bodies.
Nothing to identify, no remains."
"Exactly. Now, if the plane had been conventionally blown up in the air, you'd have a lot of bodies to identify."
Sawyer continued to look stunned at Hardy's revelation. "That issue had been bugging the hell out of me. If Archer sold out, collected his payoff and was planning to run, he'd know at some point the police would be on to him."
Hardy picked up the thread. "So to cover his tracks he sets it up like he gets on a plane which ends up thirty feet under. If evidence of sabotage is discovered, you logically think Lieberman's the target.
If evidence of sabotage isn't found, you still won't be looking for a dead man. Everyone stops looking for Jason Archer. End of case."
"But Christ, Frank, why not just take the money and run? It's not that difficult to disappear. And there's another thing. The guy we're pretty sure sabotaged 3223 ended up with a bunch of holes in him."
"Would the time of death have allowed Archer to get back and do the killing?" Hardy asked.
"We don't have the autopsy results yet, but based on what I saw of the corpse, it's possible Archer could've gotten back to the East Coast in time to do it."
Hardy fingered his file while he thought through this new information.
"Come on, Frank, how much you figure Archer got for his info?
Enough to bribe a fueler to bring down a plane and hire a hit man to take out the fueler? This one guy who until a few days ago led a respectable life with a family? Now he's some kind of mastermind criminal blowing kids and grandmothers out of the sky?"
Frank Hardy looked at his old friend, his lips set in a thin line.
"He personally didn't blow up that plane, Lee. Besides, don't tell me you've started analyzing the depths of a person's conscience. If memory serves me correctly, some of the worst perps we ever tracked down led lives on the surface that looked like something out of Leave It to Beaver."
Sawyer did not look convinced. "How much?"
"Archer could're gotten several million easy for the information."
"That sounds like a lot, but you think a guy will kill a couple hundred people to cover his tracks for that? No way!"
"There's another wrinkle to all this. A wrinkle that makes me think Jason Archer was some kind of mastermind despite appearances, or maybe that he was working for such an organization."
"So what's the wrinkle?"
Hardy suddenly looked embarrassed. "There's some money missing from one of Triton's accounts."
"Money? How much money?"
Hardy eyed Sawyer squarely. "How does a quarter of a billion dollars grab you?"
Sawyer almost spit his coffee across the table. "What?"
"It looks like Archer wasn't just interested in selling secrets. He was also into raiding bank accounts."
"How? I mean, a company that big, it had to have controls in place."
"Triton did, only those controls were premised on it receiving correct information from the bank where the money was on deposit."
"I'm not following you," Sawyer said impatiently.
Hardy sighed and put his elbows on the table. "In this day and age, moving money from point A to point B involves the use of a computer. The banking and financial worlds are wholly dependent upon them, but that dependence comes with risks."
"Like there might be some glitch, the computers go down, stuff like that?" Sawyer ventured.
"Or that the bank's computers might be penetrated and manipulated for illegal purposes. It's nothing new. Hell, you know the bureau created a whole new section to deal with computer crimes."
"Is that what you think happened here?"
Hardy sat down and reopened his file, rustling through some pages until he found what he wanted. "An operating account for Triton Global Investments, Corporation, was maintained at Consolidated BankTrust's branch here in northern Virginia. Triton Global Investments is Triton's Wall Street investment company subsidiary.
The account was funded over time until the total bank balance reached two hundred and fifty million."
Sawyer interrupted. "Was Archer involved in setting up the account?"
"No. He had no access to it, in fact."
"Was there a lot of activity in the account?"
"At first, yes. However, as time went on, Triton didn't require the funds. They were sort of kept as a reserve in case Triton or its affiliated companies were in need of funding."
"What happened next?"
"Turns out a couple of months ago a new account was set up at the same bank in the name of Triton Global Investments, Limited."
"So Triton set up another account?"
Hardy was already shaking his head. "No, that's the catch. It was totally unrelated to Triton. Turns out the company is fictitious, no address, no directors or officers, no nothing."
"Do you know who set the bank account up?"
"There was only one signatory to the account. The name given to the bank was Alfred Rhone, chief financial officer. Our investigation turned up zilch on Rhone. But we did find one interesting piece of information."
"What's that?" Sawyer hunched forward in his chair.
"A number of transactions took place from the phony account.
Wire transfers, deposits, things like that. The signature of Alfred Rhone appeared on each of these documents. We checked those signatures against those of all of Triton's employees. We found a match.
Care to guess who?"
Sawyer's reply was immediate. "Jason Archer."
Hardy nodded.
"So what happened to the money?"
"Someone infiltrated BankTrust's computer system and did some very careful rearranging of accounts. Turns out that the legit Triton account and the phony account were assigned the same account number."
"Christ! You could drive a semi through a hole like that."
"Right. One day before Archer disappeared, a wire transfer authorization was made moving the two hundred and fifty million from the Triton account to an account set up by the phony company at another major money center bank in New York. BankTrust's wire department already had a standing authorization from our friend Alfred Rhone. The account was fully funded, all the i's and t's dotted and crossed. The money was transferred out the same day." Sawyer looked incredulous. "Bank people accept what the computer tells them, Lee, there's no reason not to. Besides, bank departments don't talk to each other. So long as their ass is covered, they just execute orders. Whoever was involved, they knew banking procedures down cold. Did I mention that Jason Archer used to work in the wire department of a bank a few years before he joined Triton?"
Sawyer wearily shook his head. "I knew there was a reason I don't like computers. I still don't understand how it was done."
"Look at it this way, Lee. It was as if they cloned a rich guy and then walked the fake guy in the front door of the bank, withdrew all the rich guy's money and then walked back out. The only difference is BankTrust thought both guys were rich; however, the bank was looking at the same bank balance for both, only counting the money twice."
"Any trace of the funds?"
Hardy shook his head. "I wouldn't have expected there to be. It's gone. We've already met with members of the bureau's Financial Institutions Fraud Unit. Th
ey've commenced an investigation."
Sawyer sipped his coffee and then had a sudden thought. "You think maybe RTG was involved in both schemes? Otherwise, it would seem kind of odd that Archer would risk doing both the bank fraud and selling the secrets."
"In fact, Lee, Archer could have initiated only the theft of the company secrets and then RTG may have put him up to the bank fraud in order to further hurt Triton. He was in a perfect position to do it."
"But the bank has to make good on the loss. Triton wasn't really hurt."
"No, you're wrong there. Triton has lost the use of the money while BankTrust sorts things out and the investigation is continuing.
This incident went all the way up to the board of directors. It could take months to unravel, or so Triton was told this morning.
As you could imagine, Nathan Gamble is one unhappy man."
"Did Triton need the funds for something?"
"You bet they did. Triton was going to use the funds to put a good-faith deposit down on the acquisition of CyberCom, the company I was telling you about."
"So did the deal fall through?"
"Not yet. The last I heard, Nathan Gamble may provide the funds personally."
"Christ, the guy can write a check that big?"
"Gamble is a billionaire several times over. However, it's not like he wants to do it. That ties up his funds on top of losing two hundred and fifty million of Triton's cash. For him it's a five-hundred-million-dollar swing the wrong way. Even for him, that's a lot of money." Hardy winced slightly as if remembering his last encounter with Gamble. "Like I said, not a very happy man right now. His biggest concern is the secrets Archer sold to RTG, however. If RTG gets CyberCom, then the ultimate loss to Triton will be much more than a quarter billion dollars."
"But now that RTG knows you're on to them, they won't be using the info Archer slipped them."
"It's not that simple, Lee. They've denied any involvement, and while we have the video, it's far from slam-dunk evidence. RTG was already in the bidding for CyberCom. If their deal comes in a little sweeter than Triton's, who's to say how that happened?"
"It does get complicated, I guess." Sawyer wearily Studied the remains of his coffee.
Harty spread out his hands at his old partner and smiled. "Well, that's my story."
"I had faith you wouldn't get me out of bed for a simple purse snatching." Sawyer paused. "Archer must be a certifiable genius, Frank."
"Agreed."
Sawyer suddenly perked up. "Then again, everybody makes mistakes and sometimes you get lucky, like that videotape over there.
Besides, it's the hard ones that make the job so gratifying. Right?"
A grin spread across his face.
Hardy nodded in weary amusement. "So, where do you go from here?"
Sawyer finished his coffee and hooked the pot for a refill. He seemed reenergized as a number of possibilities on the case had now opened up.
"First, I'm going to use your phone to put out a worldwide APB on Jason Archer. Next, I'm going to pick your brain clean for the next hour. Tomorrow morning I'm going to send a team of agents to Dulles Airport to find out as much as they can about Jason Archer.
While they're doing that, I'm going to follow up with a personal interview of someone who may turn out to be truly integral to this whole case."
"Who's that?"
"Sidney Archer."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Paul Brophy, I'm a partner of Sidney's, Mr..."
Brophy stood in the foyer of the home, his overnight bag in one hand.
"Bill Patterson. I'm Sidney's father."
"She's spoken of you often, Bill. Sorry we never had a chance to meet until now. Terrible what happened. I had to come here for your daughter. She's one of my closest colleagues. A truly remarkable woman."
Bill Patterson eyed the bag Brophy deposited in one corner of the foyer. Dressed in a dark blue double-breasted suit, the latest in fashionable neckwear and glossy black shoes to go with patterned socks, the tall, lean Brophy cut quite a figure. Something about the smooth manner, though, the way he was casually moving around the stricken household, made Patterson frown. He had spent the better part of his working life with his bullshit radar set on high. His alarm was wailing now.
"She's got a lot of family here for her... Paul, was it?" Patterson put particular emphasis on the word family.
Brophy looked at him, sizing up the man quickly. "Yes. There's nothing more important than family right now. I hope you don't think I'm intruding. That's the last thing I want to do. I talked to Sidney last night. She said it was okay. I've worked with your daughter for many years. We've been through some legal deals that would send you looking for the ulcer medicine. But I don't have to tell you that. You practically ran Bristol-Aluminum the last five years you were there. Read about you in the Journal it seems like every month. And that big spread in Forbes a few years ago when you retired."
"Business is tough," the older man agreed, relaxing his manner as he briefly recalled past triumphs from his business career.
"Well, I know that's what your competition thought." Brophy flashed the friendliest of grins.
Patterson returned it. The guy was probably okay; after all, he had come all this way. Besides, this was not the morning to start any problems. "You want something to drink, or eat? You flew down from New York this morning you say?"
"First shuttle out. If you've got some coffee, that would be great .... Sidney?" Brophy's eyes eagerly settled on the tall presence entering the room.
Dressed in black, her mother by her side and similarly attired, Sidney Archer came down the hallway.
"Hello, Paul."
Brophy walked quickly over to her, gave her a full hug and a peck on the cheek that seemed to linger for a few seconds. A little flustered, Sidney made introductions with her mother.
"So, how's little Amy taking it?" Brophy asked anxiously.
"She's staying with a friend. She doesn't understand what's happened."
Sidney's mother stared at him, her eyes unfriendly.
"Right, that's right." Brophy fell back a step. He had never had kids, but that had still been a stupid question.
Sidney unwittingly helped him. She turned to her mother. "Paul flew down from New York this morning."
Her mother nodded absently and then bustled off to the kitchen to start some breakfast.
Brophy looked at Sidney. Her hair was silky, straw-colored, its color made more dramatic by the backdrop of the black dress. He found her gaunt look particularly attractive. Even though he had his own agenda, Brophy was still taken aback. The woman was beautiful.
"Everyone else is going directly to the chapel. After the service they'll come here." She sounded overwhelmed by the prospect.
Brophy caught the tone. "You just take it easy and when you want to go off by yourself, I'll be right there making small talk and keeping everyone's plate filled with food. If there's anything I've learned being a lawyer, it's how to use a lot of words and never really say anything."
"Don't you have to get back to New York?"
Brophy shook his head, his smile triumphant. "I'm hanging out at the D.C. office for a while." He pulled out a slender cassette recorder from his inner coat pocket. "I'm all set. Already dictated three letters and a speech I'm giving at a political fund-raiser next month. All of which means I'm here as long as you need me." He smiled tenderly, put the recorder back, reached out and took her hand.
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