"Noni's from Berkshire Re," Fritz explained. "They have—potentially—a large interest in this case."
"The violent death cover?" Joe asked. Noni and Fritz both nodded.
Noni Brooks certainly didn't waste any time. "The question is: can you find Gerald Murdock?" But her look seemed to say, If you can't, we'll get someone who can.
Berkshire Re is the biggest—and smartest—insurance outfit in the world. They obviously wanted Murdock and his money found. And they don't take "impossible" as an answer.
"What's the budget?" asked Joe.
"Five hundred ounces," said Noni.
"To start with," added Fritz.
"You're assuming Wainwright will find him guilty," I said.
"No," said Noni, "we're not assuming that. Though we expect he will." She looked at her watch. "Judge Wainwright will give his decision three and a half hours from now. If we just sit around and wait till then and the verdict is guilty, that's three and a half hours we've lost.
"Do I need to point out the obvious? It's Friday already, and this man is going to be very hard to find. His trail's getting colder by the minute. One extra hour could be the difference between success and failure."
What about the five days we've already lost? I thought to myself. But I said, "If anyone can find him, we can." Joe nodded his agreement.
"As far as you're concerned," said Fritz, "Wainwright has already pronounced him guilty. We'll call you when he announces his decision but we want you to be ready to move the moment he does."
"GMR Holdings," said Joe.
"That's right," said Fritz. "Follow the money. We've got all the papers ready: five minutes after Wainwright rules we'll be in possession of the company. Then we have to get Murdock's secretary out of the office and see what she's left for us to find."
"I want to see the bank records," I said. "Murdock disappeared at Union Square Saturday night. Like the Invisible Man. Feels like we've been hitting our heads against a brick wall ever since."
"That's exactly the point," said Fritz. "Somewhere in the company's records should be a warm trail to follow. At least a lead, a hint of some kind."
"Looks like our only bet," said Joe.
Noni Brooks shook her head. "There'll be a reward. One thousand ounces for information that leads us to Murdock."
"Who'll screen the replies?" asked Joe.
"We want you to do that. You're the experts," said Fritz.
"That'll cost extra," said Joe. "Murdock will be 'seen' all over the world."
"We only need one."
"Yeah. But figuring which is the right one will cost a fortune."
Fritz turned to Noni, who nodded her head.
"Okay," he said. "We're also going after the money Murdock skimmed from the joint venture companies. We're claiming Murdock broke the partnership agreements which would make it theft."
"But I thought he had the right to withdraw that money," I said.
"He had the right to spend the money on joint venture business. Not to pay himself without Ackerman's agreement. Anyway, we'll have a judgment in a day or three. If the judge rules against Murdock, he'll be guilty of theft as well as murder."
"Good," said Joe.
Everybody turned to look at him. "Why?" someone asked.
"Never mind now," said Fritz. "It's time we got moving."
"Who's handing things on your end?" Joe asked.
"Tony Ramirez. He's expecting your call."
"What I want to know," said Joe, to no one in particular, "is why did he do it? What's his motive?"
* * *
"Greed or lust," said Joe as we walked out onto Geary.
"What about revenge?"
Joe shook his head. "Doesn't figure."
"Hang on a minute," said Joe. He stepped into the tobacco store we'd just passed.
"Heavens above," he said, jogging up to where I'd stopped. He stared at his phone in one hand and a packet of Maui Wowie Lights in the other. "They've gone down in price again!"
I jangled the coins in my pocket. Joe never carried any, always paying by phone. Call me weird if you like, but I enjoy the feel, the weight of gold and silver.
"So what's new?" I asked.
"They dropped last month, and they're down again already."
Thinking of our payroll I said, "Wish salaries went down like everything else."
"Yeah," he grunted.
"So what do you want with them?" I asked him.
"Added inspiration."
"I'm inspired enough already."
"I said added inspiration, you dummy. I want to watch the holo. There's bound to be something, something somebody said or did, that will give us a clue."
* * *
The rest of the morning disappeared in a blaze of activity. But at two o'clock we were ready. At 2:05 Wainwright announced his decision: Guilty. At 2:10 one team from All-Risk, along with some of our operatives, moved into Murdock's office. A second team went to the Bank of San Francisco. At 2:15 they zapped us the account records of GMR Holdings.
"What's the time in Switzerland?" asked Joe as the records scrolled across the screen.
I thought for a minute. "Bedtime, I'd say."
"Damn. Bet Swiss banks aren't open Saturdays, either." Joe pointed at the screen. "I don't like the look of that." His fingers danced over the keyboard and the screen split into half a dozen different displays.
"See," he said. "All the money was sent to Swiss banks. All these transfers—" all but one of the displays lit up "—went to three different Swiss banks. Union Bank, Credit Suisse, Bank Leu. All big names."
"We should get some cooperation out of them. What's the problem?"
Joe punched a button on the keyboard and the display that hadn't been highlighted filled the screen.
"Right there. That wire went Saturday. Anstalt Bank. Where the hell is Vaduz, anyway?" He highlighted the bank's name and an information screen appeared. "Vaduz, Liechtenstein. Oh hell."
"Liechtenstein," I murmured. "So how do we stand with them?"
"Those guys in Liechtenstein don't say 'boo' to their own mothers. Let's see. Court order required," he read from a new display. "Hmmm. To get that, the whole case has to be retried in Vaduz. Witnesses. Everything. God knows how long that would take—years possibly. They don't recognize our adjudication process."
"Anyway," I said, "what's the bet all the money is some other place."
"Ha. Want me to take the wrong side of a sure thing?
The phone rang and a message blinked on the screen that Tony Ramirez was calling. "Good," said Joe as he pushed the Accept button. Tony's face appeared on the screen.
"Seen the bank records?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Joe. "Liechtenstein."
"And Switzerland, which is a bit more cooperative. Monday, we'll be filing cases in both places."
"So what are the chances of getting any information?" I asked.
"Not good," said Ramirez. "Better, though, when we get a ruling that Murdock stole the money from the joint ventures. That case should be finished this afternoon.
"You got anything?"
"Lots of questions," said Joe. "You got any answers?"
"Lots," Ramirez laughed. "See what you guys can dig up in Switzerland."
"Sure. We'll be on the next ship out. Let us know if they find Murdock guilty of theft."
"Will do."
After Tony had signed off Joe asked me, "Who is our guy in Switzerland?"
"Günter Lattman. Remember?"
"Let's call him." Günter's number appeared on the screen.
"Wait! How cooperative do you think he'll be if you wake him up in the middle of the night."
"You're right," Joe said, grudgingly.
"Send him a message, ask him to call us as soon as he can. Let him wake us up in the middle of the night."
Joe nodded as the phone rang again. It was Andy, one of our investigators who'd gone with the All-Risk team to Murdock's office.
"What did you find?" I asked.
"She didn't leave much for us to find. Most of the computers have been wiped clean. We'll see what we can recover, but I wouldn't hold your breath. She's had a whole week."
"Anything at all?"
"Well . . . I don't know. We haven't moved anything yet. I'd like you to come down and have a look. Joe, I mean. My gut feeling is he might smell something."
I didn't take offense. Joe's "nose" had taken on a mystical quality in our company.
"We're on our way."
* * *
What had clearly been Murdock's office had a wonderful, close-up view of the building next door. We entered through a general office/reception area with three desks. One other door led into a smaller office which had been Annabelle Pearson's.
Joe stood in the center of Murdock's office, deep in thought. We all knew better than to interrupt him when he was in this state.
This office, like the others, had been all but stripped clean. Other than a few papers in the trash cans, a few files lying around, some old newspapers and magazines, all that was left was two bookshelves full of books. Mostly travel guides.
After a while Joe said, "It's too obvious." One of the All-Risk guys started to ask him, "What—and was silenced. "Wait," somebody whispered to him.
Joe walked to one of the shelves and scanned the titles. They were mostly tourist guides to countries in Africa and South America. On one of the tightly packed shelves there was a hole where a book had been removed. The missing book was one of the travel guides.
"It's like Murdock left instructions. 'Ms. Pearson,' " he recited, " 'please destroy everything but don't remove or touch anything on the bookshelves.'
"It's like Murdock's trying to tell us, 'Please waste your time looking for me here.' "
"Somewhere in Africa," I said. "Starting with 'N.' "
"Nigeria," someone said.
"Niger."
"Nairobi."
"Nepal."
"Nepal's in Asia, muscle head."
"Never mind." Turning to Andy, Joe said, "What I'd like you to do is set up these books and shelves in my office, exactly as they are now. Make a list of all the countries; see what's missing. And what the missing book probably is. See what you find out about trips Murdock took. Was he a traveler or a stay-at-home? Where did he go on vacations? What were his hobbies? Things like that. We need a better feel for this man."
"Right," said Andy.
"Wherever he is, I'll bet he's not where that bookshelf is pointing us to."
"Perhaps he's sitting there laughing at us while we're looking everywhere else," said one of the people from All-Risk. "Wheels within wheels."
"That really helps narrow down the search," I said.
"Or maybe Annabelle Pearson took it," said Andy. "Maybe she wants to go there."
Talking to himself again, Joe murmured, "I'll bet she does."
* * *
"Want me to order you guys pizza or something before I head for home?"
Molly's voice pulled me away from the screen. I rubbed my eyes, bleary from hours poring over files and documents. By contrast Molly (our receptionist) was bright and chirpy: she was about the only member of our staff who hadn't been putting in twenty-six-hour days.
Joe seemed to be asleep, his feet up on the desk and his chair laying all the way back. With Joe, appearances are always deceptive. "Good idea," he mumbled without opening his eyes.
"Want the usual?" she asked.
"Sure, pepperoni," I said.
"Yeah," said Joe, "with just a sprinkle of hash."
"You too?" said Molly, looking at me.
"Not for me. I want to keep my head clear so I'll stick to beer. If you could order a six-pack—make sure they're ice-cold."
"What's the time?" asked Joe.
"Six." Molly said. "Oh . . . and everybody else is wondering if you want them to stay another night, or can they all go home?"
I looked at Joe. "Tell 'em to go home, sleep—and keep their phones on in case we need 'em at three o'clock in the morning."
"Thanks, Molly," I said.
As she closed the door Joe stirred himself, stretched and sat up. He reached for the still-unopened packet of Maui Wowie Lights lying on his desk and pulled out a joint. "Time to look at that holo," he said.
Joe and I shared a large office. Our desks half-faced each other so we could work privately or talk when we wanted to. A couple of very comfortable sofas lined the opposite wall—they'd proved their worth this week. The books and bookshelves from Murdock's office had been set up against the wall to Joe's left.
"Any inspirations?" I asked, waving at the books.
"Needle in a haystack. I think that's a red herring. My gut has been bugging me about that holo; maybe, that's where we'll find our lead. Not in those books. . . . Heard from Andy?"
I shook my head. "Let's give him a call and see what he's got."
"No need—he'll call in when he's ready."
Joe punched a button on his keyboard and the holo shimmered in the center of the room for a moment before stabilizing.
"This is hardly what I'd have chosen for a Friday night movie."
Joe grinned. "Me neither. I'd rather watch the football. So let's run it—maybe we can catch the end of the game."
Fat chance. Having seen it before, I had trouble keeping awake. Joe on the other hand looked like he was going to fall asleep at any moment, only moving to munch on pizza. But he was actually in a highly alert, trancelike state. Which deepened as the smoke in the room thickened. Just when he looked like he'd finally dozed off he'd wind the holo back saying, "Look at this."
Dinner was over, but the five of them were still at the dining table. Murdock and Ackerman were toasting each other. "To our partnership," said Ackerman. "May it prosper," said Murdock. "He doesn't mean it," said Joe.
Joe wound the holo back and locked it onto Murdock's face and zoomed in. When Murdock said, "May it prosper," he looped it, so Murdock said the same words over and over again.
"Look at his face," Joe said. "It's wooden. That smile is forced. He's lying through his teeth."
We know that, I thought. Just that morning he'd stripped the money out of the partnerships. He's ready to run. I also knew better than to interrupt Joe when he was following his nose. I knew what he was trying to do: get inside their minds.
Joe then ran through the same scene again, with the perspective locked onto Ackerman. "He doesn't notice."
"What?" I asked.
"He can't see it. He's enthusiastic. Maybe he was one of those people who can't read faces; insensitive."
"Maybe he's too drunk or stoned."
"Maybe," said Joe. But he didn't believe it.
I only perked up when the women stripped off. No—I don't "get off" from watching other people have sex. These three women, though, were something to look at. Like watching a beauty contest. And Ackerman's wife, Sophia, was the clear winner.
"There it is. That's why my nose has been twitching. It's not Murdock at all."
I couldn't figure out what Joe was talking about.
"Look at this." Joe locked the holo on Sophia Ackerman's face. Even I could see it now: she and Murdock weren't screwing: they were making love. Or she was: it was written all over her face.
Then Joe flicked to Annabelle Pearson. For just a moment there was a look of pure hatred on her face. Joe froze the picture, zoomed out, and it was clear that Annabelle Pearson was looking at Sophia and Murdock making love.
One more flick and we were looking at Sophia Ackerman. Just for a second, a look of disgust crossed her face: at that moment she was looking at her husband.
"That's it," said Joe. "The eternal triangle. Or quadrangle, in this case. If we can't follow the money, we can follow the sex."
He punched his phone. "Andy. I want a twenty-four-hour tail on Mrs. Murdock and Annabelle Pearson . . . Yes, starting right now. . . . Call anyone you need: this has got to be tight. You've all got to be ready to follow them wherever they go. . . . Sure, hire all the ex
tra help you need. . . . Yeah, right, tell everyone to have their bags packed. And make sure your cards are loaded with cash: one of those women is going to lead us to Murdock as sure as my name is Joe Herrera, and you've got to be ready to go wherever in the world they go."
For a while Joe listened, muttering, "Yeah," "Okay," "Good," and so on. Finally, "Okay, I'm on my way," and put the phone down.
"Where?" I asked.
"Murdock's apartment. I'm meeting Andy there."
"My god, it's getting on for midnight!"
"Well, I'm in the mood right now."
"What's Andy found out?"
"Oh, this and that. Sort of mood stuff. I'll fill you in tomorrow."
"Is that it?" I asked, motioning to the holo.
"Oh yeah, we're finished with that. My nose has stopped itching." With relief, I switched the holo off and the room was clear at last.
Joe grabbed his coat and waved "goodbye" as he ran out the door. I've no idea where his energy came from; it just made me feel even more tired.
And then the phone rang. Who could be calling at this time of night? Maybe it was Sophia Ackerman looking for a date. I must have been dreaming.
"Hullo. Is this San Francisco Investigations?" said a voice I didn't recognize. It was English English, but with a faint trace of a foreign accent I couldn't place. No face appeared on the screen to help me out.
"Yes," I replied.
"Oh, good morning, Ray."
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Oh, sorry. It's too early in the morning to show my face. Günter Lattman here."
"Günter! You got my message? What time is it in Zurich?"
"About eight-thirty. What are you doing in the office so late?"
"Working, more's the pity."
"I went quickly through the Murdock stuff you sent me. There's no way I can get information out of a Swiss bank without a Swiss court order. And Swiss courts don't recognize your murder penalties. If we found Murdock here we could lock him up for you—but that wouldn't get you any money out of him."
"All-Risks is going to file in a Zurich court bright and early Monday morning."
"That'll take weeks if you're lucky. Months more likely. And even then, the Swiss court isn't going to give you—or me—access to Swiss bank records. Not for murder."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
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