Taking Stock

by C J West

  “Do you really want to live a hundred yards from your parents? More importantly, would your wife?”

  Everyone in his family seemed eager to be together. Would he ever understand what her childhood was like? Would he be afraid of her if he knew that her mother had killed her father when she was four? She might never get a better moment than this to explain, but she couldn’t get started. It sounded horrible even to her. He didn’t pry into her thoughts, rubbing the tiny muscles near her spine instead.

  “I guess I’ll have to ask my future wife.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll ask her if she wants to live a hundred yards from my parents.”

  “Tell me what she says.”

  “I think you already know.”

  “You’re getting way too confident. I’m still trying to get over you killing birds so they don’t eat the corn.”

  They sat snuggled into growing shadows and watched the birds fly here and there to pluck seeds from the field. Erica brightened as he held her close and the sun dipped lower.

  “What happens when we go back to Boston? I don’t like the thought of you in that apartment alone. What if that guy comes back?”

  “I’m a big girl. Ten years of Karate, remember? If he comes back, he’ll be in more trouble than he knows.”

  “I’d rather you stayed with me.”

  “I’m not Claudia or Dianne.”

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t worry. A break-in isn’t a joke.”

  Erica let herself nuzzle into his shoulder, turning her face up toward his. “You’re adorably overprotective.”

  He protested again so she kissed him there in the cool shade of the pine. His safety concerns were replaced by desires she wouldn’t quench out here in the open. Need welled in the depth of their kisses, bodies molded together. In all the time he’d been pursuing her, she’d never imagined this moment. The desire sprang up on its own, consuming her thoughts until they were just two intertwined bodies exploring each other.

  Back in Boston they could have spent the evening in bed. She wished he’d ask to pack up and go. She craved him. Not the desire to go through the motions and satisfy her man; to do what needed to be done. She rubbed her hands over his solid chest, pressed herself against him, hot with desire to feel his skin against hers.

  Gregg didn’t know how to react. He was shocked by the change. Every time she eased the intensity of her kiss, he drew back, satisfied. Each time she drove back into him she felt his delight as he surged to meet her.

  When they finally left the tree, Erica was shivering from the cold and plotting ways to casually sneak into his room.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Brad reclined across the aisle, his feet straddling the open cabinet in front of him. His chair pressed against the cabinet behind, his head resting on the sheet metal, his eyes closed. The cold room demanded late hours with only spurts of activity between the long cycles when the computer labored and the operator waited. At 10:30 p.m. this posture was common. Marty would expect a bit more formality from his newly-minted senior vice president brother-in-law. He’d be furious if he knew about the program Brad was running in his computer room.

  The numbers on the screen didn’t matter anymore. There weren’t enough transactions for this last run to make up the gap. He’d be at least two and a half million short and his mind spun with potential consequences. Would the boss take the shortfall from his share? Could he, if Brad was the one delivering the money? It sounded like a huge sum, but Brad didn’t need the two and a half to rebuild his little house in the French countryside and retire in style. His biggest problem was ending this thing and leaving BFS without arousing suspicion.

  He needed a plausible reason to leave Boston. His first plan was to get married, but that had fallen flat. In a year of looking he’d had a few hot encounters, but nothing that would qualify as a relationship. No woman would pick up and move with him to France. He hunted for jobs in other cities, but nothing had panned out there either. He was stuck between an inept brother-in-law, a maniacal power-hungry partner and an employee with a grudge.

  Brad wanted out. He didn’t want to return from this next trip, but the boss wouldn’t let go until they were in the clear for good. He wanted certainty, a closed investigation and someone else doing time in their place. Ludicrous. Stupid as throwing rocks at a sleeping bear, but it wasn’t Brad’s call. He’d do what he was told and help pin this on Erica. The call from Sarah Burke showed promise, but it smacked of a prolonged investigation and a nasty legal battle. The truth would come out in a courtroom. Brad would face Erica’s lawyer from the witness stand. She’d understand the crime once the charges were spelled out and she’d have years to research and prove her case. She’d know he was guilty, but knowing and proving were two different things. How long could he stand the intense scrutiny?

  The distinctive click and flash broke the steady hum of computers. Brad jumped out of his seat without pausing to breathe or even open his eyes. Scrambling to the end of the row and around the corner, he left the CD he’d used to steal over a hundred and seventy-five million dollars right in the server. The program was still busily changing customer transactions as Brad ran, ready to battle his way out of the server room and on to the Canadian border. He took two hard strides across the tile floor then stumbled awkwardly to a stop when he saw Herman behind the camera.

  “Priceless.” The camera flashed again. “You pussy. Where the Hell are you going?”

  Brad faced him dumbfounded, his heart racing, gasping, unable to catch his breath. He felt exposed standing in view of the hall. The photos proved nothing, but Herman didn’t need them. Why torment him this way? Herman had to be covering himself. If someone found them together, he’d show the pictures. Brad would go to jail and Herman would get a raise.

  “It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught. Is that all it takes for you to cut and run? Someone walks in and you bolt? Grow some backbone.”

  “Screw you. I’m risking my ass here and across the pond. All you do is hide behind the phone. Without me you’ve got squat.”

  “Simmer down, Bradley. Let’s get our disc and cover our tracks before someone finds us and I’m forced to turn you in.”

  The prick would do it.

  Back at the server, the program finished. Brad put the files back to normal and removed the CD well before the regular backup started at midnight. As he did this he wondered why Herman picked this last run for his first late-night visit to the computer room. He seemed to know everything Brad did day or night. He didn’t need to come here.

  The two men walked into the tiny security room, Brad watching every corner for trouble, Herman as calm as if he were ordering lunch in the company cafeteria.

  “Well, this is it. How much of my six million did you get?” Herman asked as Brad made the changes on the building access computer.

  “I’m about two million short, but I was interrupted before I checked the final numbers. I guess we’ll see.”

  “Interrupted? Looked to me like you were sleeping. Don’t worry. It’s not a big hit. We can handle it.”

  Brad wondered if he meant they’d share the shortfall. Herman tucked the camera into his breast pocket and Brad was reminded of the dusty storage area the night Herman killed Stu Tinsley. Herman blocked the only door. He could pull a gun and end this in seconds or he could wait until morning and show his pictures to the police or the SEC. Not likely. He still needed Brad to deliver the money, but a similar line of thinking earned Stu Tinsley four bullets.

  Brad stared at the computer a few moments after he’d finished removing the record of Herman’s computer room visit. When Sarah saw these records, she’d go full speed collecting evidence against Erica. Brad would come through this rich for doing the heavy lifting and keeping quiet. He stepped away from the computer and Herman’s easy eyes made him believe it was true.

  “I think we have a problem with the girl,” Herman said.

  “Erica or Sarah?”

&nb
sp; “Erica, Dumb Ass. You pissed her off then assigned her the only job that leads straight to us. She’s been gone two days. I’m worried she’s off with the feds building a case.”

  “She’s hasn’t figured this thing out in two days.”

  “What if she’s been working it for the last two months? We have no idea how close she is.”

  “Relax. She’s pissed over my promotion. That’s why she went away. She hasn’t had time to breathe never mind do any research. My worry is making the charges stick. We don’t have a problem until we accuse her. When we do, we’ll have to lay out the scam. That’s when we’re vulnerable, not before.”

  “Think about it, Brad. She works ninety hours a week for over a year then suddenly takes off. Why? Where’d she go?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “Aren’t you her boss?”

  “She’s got fifteen weeks unused vacation and we’re not exactly the best of friends. I couldn’t stop her. And you know what? I’m glad to have her out of here. I’ve got the run of the place. She’s taking a few days off. That’s it.”

  Herman turned his nose up at the CD in Brad’s hand. “Get rid of that thing. Break it into tiny pieces then check her office and find out how much time we have.”

  “The place would be swarming with cops if she knew. She’s curious and she knows something’s wrong, but she doesn’t have any idea how big it is.”

  “Get in there and find out what she knows. Buy us another week.”

  “You’re the auditor. Why don’t you go in there and steal her notes. Get your ass in the line of fire for a change. See how you like it.”

  “If I go in there, I’m coming down hard on someone. I’m not ready to do that yet. You’re her boss. Get in there and do what I’m paying you to do.” Herman slipped out into the hall without waiting for a response.

  It was eleven, but Brad didn’t dare come out of the closet behind him. He timed three minutes on his watch, long enough for anyone who’d seen Herman leave to forget which door he’d come from.

  Quickly to Erica’s office, he flipped through her files. If someone came by he’d fudge something about a problem in client services. Doubtful anyone was still working at 11:12 p.m.

  The folder he was looking for was blank on the outside. He would have passed it by if it wasn’t on top of the stack. He immediately recognized the letter inside. He’d shredded this same letter and the phone bill twice already. The first time shocked Turner in front of ten people. The second time he’d taken the documents from Erica’s office after she’d gone. Turner resurrected the documents twice and twice he snuck them to Erica. Brad had turned them both into enemies, but it couldn’t be helped. Erica had to be controlled and there wasn’t a better option to deal with Turner that day in client services. Brad’s name was scribbled several times in the margins. They were committed to proving he was involved. Sooner or later they would.

  Herman was right: she was getting close. The problem was stated a dozen times in her handwriting. She just hadn’t made the leap to the answer. A dozen explanations were hypothesized, most of them scored out repeatedly as if to blot out distracting thoughts. One hypothesis appeared to be under investigation and it wasn’t far from the truth. She’d made a list of people who could directly access the database and change the time manually. She was thinking along the right lines, just not on the right scale. Changing transactions by hand would be fraught with errors. It would be an easy way to make ten thousand here and there, but it was no way to make two hundred million.

  Brad ran the folder and its contents through the shredder outside Marty’s office. The waste was incinerated twice a week. By the time Erica reconstructed her file and started over, she’d be the center of the investigation. He wasn’t eager for that nightmare to begin, but he’d be glad when he had it all behind him. Soon he’d have nothing to hide, nothing that anyone in this country could find.

  His final problem was Herman’s file. He needed to find a solution to that problem soon.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  The Arizona sun was so strong at 8:00 a.m. that Tobey could almost hear the sidewalk sizzle outside. His nose didn’t register the smell of urine in the corners of the narrow stairwell as he waddled down the concrete steps past scores of residents who’d sleep until noon. A dozen women earned their living in the midnight hours cramped in their little rooms. Others idled the nights away, drinking, commiserating and using darkness to steal enough to get by. Tobey would be sleeping, too, if his orders weren’t so specific. The simple job afforded him a roof over his head and he wasn’t going to be thrown out in the blazing sun over something as trivial as getting up before eight o’clock. He kept the alcohol to a minimum this time of the month and made sure he arrived every day before eight-thirty.

  Even the lobby was unmanned this early as he walked through and emerged into the fierce morning sun.

  “Tobey. Where you goin’ this early?”

  “Down to central. Get some day work,” Tobey said even before turning around. The voice belonged to the one man he didn’t want to see. Larry had taught him to survive in the park. They shared good fortune and protected each other from the kids that roamed around after dark looking for trouble. When he landed this job, he bought Larry a bottle of Chivas Regal. That turned out to be a big mistake when he learned the rules. Larry knew he’d come into money and he hounded Tobey for handouts constantly. Tobey helped when he could, but he couldn’t give Larry the thing he needed most: a roof.

  He turned to see Larry’s weathered face down on the sidewalk. He hadn’t picked this spot by chance. He’d flopped here to protest being abandoned. Tobey had no choice. He had to leave him here and he wished he could tell him why.

  Larry sat up with great effort. “Gonna be ninety-five today. You’re too old to work in this sun.”

  Tobey had come here to escape the elements. He survived the first winter easily, but hadn’t considered how brutal the summer sun would be. An Arizona summer was as unforgiving as any northern winter.

  “I’m too old to sleep outside. I got to work.”

  Larry pushed himself higher and flattened the soles of his worn out shoes against the concrete as if he’d get up and come along. He didn’t need an invitation, but he waited for something. An apology maybe.

  “I gotta go. Catch you later.”

  Larry grunted as Tobey jaywalked to the opposite corner and headed down the next block. Two years of merciless sun had baked Larry’s face to a grisly leathery texture. Tobey felt sorry for him, but couldn’t risk winding up back in the park. He hurried around the next corner and went inside the postal center. The counters didn’t open until nine so there wasn’t anyone inside to see him open the box.

  The key turned and he found two envelopes. The first had the familiar blue BFS logo. The address printed on the check showed through the cellophane window. The larger envelope looked familiar as well. He clutched them in his fist and hustled to the ATM. There he opened the check and carefully copied the numbers onto the deposit envelope.

  He withdrew three hundred dollars when he was finished. Normally that amount had to last an entire month, but the second envelope would have instructions for another job, one that meant a hot shower and another handful of cash. He didn’t bother to read the message. He pocketed his receipts and headed back to his apartment.

  …

  Three days later Tobey followed the same routine, but this time he walked three blocks north to meet Carlos.

  This place was swank. He buzzed once and the door clicked open. He took the elevator to five and hiked to the end of the hall. The door swung open before he could knock. Carlos welcomed him in.

  “Right on time,” Carlos said as he shut the door and chained it.

  The .45 holstered under Carlos’ shoulder didn’t bother him. He had a job to do and Carlos was here to make sure things went smoothly. As long as he did what he was told, he needn’t fear Carlos or the gun. He delivered the receipts to the table and flashed the unop
ened envelope.

  “The check cleared. It’s bank day,” Carlos said.

  Tobey nodded and headed off to the shower stocked with shampoo, soap and even an unopened package of razors. The clean fiberglass shower reminded him of his life before the accident when he had his own place. He had pride back then, a real job, a decent life. When it collapsed he’d lived minute by minute for almost a year, drinking himself into a stupor most days. Luckily, Carlos stumbled over him in the park before he wasted away. Now he was coming back. Carlos put him up in that rat infested place full of drunks and prostitutes, but at least he was indoors. If he kept it up better days were coming.

  Freshly showered and shaved, he put on the white shirt and suit that Carlos only let him wear to the bank. There was a new tie on the doorknob, blue with a sandy beach and a fleet of tiny sailboats. He tied the tie, stepped out into the living room and waited for Carlos to look him over.

  Carlos tugged on the tie and smelled his breath. He hadn’t had much the night before and he’d brushed his teeth this morning. Carlos couldn’t tell.

  “Remember, the wiring instructions are prepared by your accountant. Let the manager fill out the forms. Sign them and get back here with the paperwork they give you. Don’t leave without it. No paperwork, no green.”

  “You got it, Boss.”

  Carlos handed him the letter and Tobey strolled down the hall looking like a man with a million bucks.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Stan palmed the plastic button and his Coke thunked and rattled its way down through the machine and poked out the bottom. As he came up with the can, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. The familiar voice boomed across the empty lunch room as if he were talking to someone sixty feet away. “Stanley J. Nye. Way you been man? You gone corporate on me?”

  Stan turned to meet Sean’s beefy shoulders at eye height, his thumb still squeezing Stan’s clavicle. Sean’s mailroom duties required him to roam the office continually. He enjoyed talking about the latest movies and classic cop dramas almost as much as Stan. When they crossed paths they’d drift into a vacant office or conference room and chat away a half hour. They hadn’t had such a chat in two weeks. Stan had been too busy to notice. Sean looked slighted. He seemed to know their chats were a thing of the past.