by Jean Martino
Scott said nothing, knowing that Benny was struggling with how to tell him the rest and knowing if he pushed he could ruin it all in a second.
Lowering his eyes to stare at his hands clutched around his beer bottle, Benny spoke in much lower tones so that Scott had to lean closer across the table to hear him. “When I got home, Rosie and the kids were asleep, so I went into the den again and took out the discs and inserted the one marked 2.” He gulped down some of his beer before continuing, then said in a whisper almost, “It was the data base Michael had set up for his special clients at McLean’s. It showed the names of every account holder who had bought stock through the mutual funds accounts Michael had set up for his investors only and their account activities, including Mrs. Rossi’s account, although her account was separate from the mutual accounts.”
Scott felt his skin prickling, knowing what was coming next. “It was you then who placed the sell orders for Linda’s stock?”
Benny nodded, his face drained. “Not just for Mrs. Rossi’s account,” he said his voice more in control now. “Michael explained on the first disc what to do. He was literally dumping every stock in every investor account he had on his computer.”
“Good God!” Scott whispered. “But why didn’t Michael place the sell orders himself? Why didn’t he do it himself before he took off?”
“He couldn’t,” said Benny. “It had to be done through his computer at McLean’s which is hooked up to the network of computers at work. And it had to be timed perfectly to prevent anything going wrong. He would have known that no one would get suspicious for a few days after he had left. He told me to wait till the evening of the 17th. And he knew also that Linda would come looking for them when Cindy didn’t arrive in Australia.”
“Then why didn’t they contact her and tell her what had happened?”
Benny looked at him in surprise. “I thought you would have figured that out yourself Detective Walker.”
Scott nodded. “I understand,” he said. “They didn’t want her involved. They knew it was better for her to know nothing than to drag her into it. I think she understands that now herself. But surely you could have sent her an email or something to stop her worrying so much.”
Benny nodded too. “Don’t think that hadn’t crossed my mind,” he said. “But what could I have said in it? “Sorry, but Cindy isn’t coming for her visit?” I would have had to tell her more than that but there was nothing I could tell her and they wanted to protect her, and telling her nothing was the only way they could do that.”
Scott shook his head. “But she sure has been to hell and back worrying about them.”
“I know,” said Benny. “But I had to believe they would find a way somehow of letting her know they were alright. I couldn’t stop the ball rolling with their need to just disappear like that. They were running for their lives and they didn’t want her put in danger also.”
Scott thought about the phone call Linda had made from the lake to Jessica and the man Jessica had said was looking for Linda. He made a mental note to get the car registration number from Jessica and try to trace who the car belonged to. If it was a rental car they would surely have some identification on the man.
“But Michael also wanted to protect her investment,” said Benny. “He had set up all the instructions for the sell orders to be placed; selling the stocks her account held first, getting the best prices for them. Then he was, in effect, dumping all the same stock in his investors’ mutual funds that included Carl Denholm’s account. He had them all going out in smaller packages like popcorn blasting; one, two, three, every fifteen minutes, no let up, sending the stock values spiraling downwards as other brokers and investors started a mini panic; which was what he wanted them to do, all of them continually selling until everyone of the mutual funds he was taking care of for those “special” clients had been wiped clean.”
“Oh shit!” whispered Scott, realizing what Michael had done. “It sounds like Michael was on a vendetta against them.”
“He was,” said Benny. “They screwed with the wrong guy didn’t they? Those account holders lost a bundle because there was no one there now to reinvest their money, not even when buyers started sending the prices back up again of the stock that was sold.”
“But at what cost,” said Scott, shaking his head, looking around also to make sure no one was listening or watching them. “So how in hell did you get those instructions into his computer without anyone knowing?”
“Oh that part was easy. I stayed late that night, lots of brokers do to clean up after the day’s activities, then when the place was almost empty I went to Michael’s booth and inserted the disc I had created with his instructions and let it download. Once that was done I removed the disc I had made and took it home again and destroyed it completely. I knew the sell orders would take off the next morning as soon as the stock market opened and no one could stop them.”
“So those accounts now show zero balances?”
“That’s right. The money received from the transactions was automatically funneled through the special bank account Michael used just for his clients and back into those client’s bank accounts in Las Vegas. It was a special bank account that only Michael and Roger McLean had authority to use. Not even the accountants at McLean’s could access it. But Michael’s instructions didn’t stop there. After those accounts were cleared out he had them all transferred into the firm’s main data base. They are in there now. Just shells, with nothing to identify them with Michael’s data base at all. No one, not even the FBI, will be able to identify them now with Michael.”
“But how would the bank know how much of each transaction to pay to each investor?”
“Michael took his laptop with him and that special bank account those investors used was set up on the internet so there’d be no paper trail when they transferred funds from their Las Vegas banks. That’s how most of those money-launderers work. The internet banking has, at this time, no regulations. He didn’t explain how he would do it, but I think he was on top of every transaction he had given me and knew what prices the stocks would get, so when he saw those funds flowing into that bank account he probably used a percentage for each account which he would have known from his investor accounts and transferred that much into each investor’s bank account.”
Struggling now to keep it all clear in his mind, Scott shook his head. “So Michael knew those investors’ bank account details too?”
“Of course. He would have to with the money coming in from them. It was all very complicated but he knew the money would start flowing into that bank account three days after the sell orders went out. He had it arranged for it to happen on Friday, the 20, which would tie everyone’s hands that were involved in it over the weekend. I’m no computer expert but knew enough to be able to follow Michael’s instructions which he had coded. Michael’s the expert, and he knew what he was doing.
“He did tell me that when it had all ended, he planned to have what was left in that bank account transferred to Roger McLean’s personal bank account, and then he was closing that special trust bank account down... period. He knew Roger McLean’s bank account details because he had done some futures trading in Roger’s name for those investors. That’s how he figured out something was not kosher. He told me, in that note he wrote to me, that he had thought it weird at the time that Roger was buying and selling the same futures and using money from the special trust account to pay for them, then sending company checks for the profit back to those investors. He knew then that he had been conned and the money from those investor accounts was being laundered. But when he approached Roger about his suspicions, Roger told him to keep his mouth shut, that he was already in too deep to get out.”
Scott nodded. It was all coming together now in his mind. The pressure Michael must have been under would have been enormous.
“But Michael wasn’t about to let himself be dragged down by those criminals,” said Benny. “He worked it all out care
fully, leaving nothing to chance. The third disc he left me was a specially designed program to strip all the files and activities of his data base from the hard drives throughout the whole network of computers at McLean’s. That’s why it all had to be done through Michael’s computer at McLean’s. Not even a computer expert could bring it all back now. It’s gone forever.”
“Good God! And how in heaven’s name did you get that money from Linda’s account to Wells Fargo?”
It was getting late and Benny glanced at his watch nervously. Then he turned back to Scott, his face now showing signs of the strain he had been under. “Michael had already opened an account at Wells Fargo in San Francisco because he knew Mrs. Rossi had an IRA account there. He couldn’t put them in that IRA account of course, but the bank had Mrs. Rossi’s details on file so it was acceptable for her to open a different account with them. I’m presuming he did that also through the internet account. His instructions told me to type the number of that account into the details on that disc I gave you. That’s my only involvement on that. Roger McLean had to trust him by giving Michael the authority to use that special bank account, and I guess Roger believed Michael would be too damn scared to try anything.”
“But the account was almost cleared out at Wells Fargo. We went there yesterday and the manager said three quarters of it had been transferred into a bank account in Australia and the rest left in the account, and the FBI and IRS had all clamped down on that now.”
Benny nodded. “Michael knew that would happen. He had it all arranged somehow before all this happened and didn’t explain it to me. His last instruction was to create that disc I left on your car so Mrs. Rossi would know somehow that they were OK and her money was safe. He didn’t say, but I think he knew Mrs. Rossi would not rest until she had found them or at least knew they were alright.” He wiped his face with the paper napkin. “Her funds are safe. I don’t know how but I am sure eventually someone will contact her to tell her where they are. She has no need to worry about them I promise.”
“Why leave it on the car like that. Couldn’t you have given it to Linda yourself?”
“Hey man,” said the now weary Benny. “I was involved in something so big I couldn’t take the chance. I knew others there might have guessed at Michael and my friendship despite our keeping it cool at work, and wasn’t sure if anyone was watching me. If they’d seen me talking to Mrs. Rossi it could have put my own family in jeopardy.”
“Understood,” said Scott.
“I didn’t know where you were staying and held onto it until that day I saw you and Mrs. Rossi going to Wainwright’s office. I waited in the car park until I saw you get out of the elevator and then left the disc there for you to find.”
“But how did you know which car was ours?”
“I’d driven by Michael and Cindy’s house one night and seen it parked out front. Didn’t know it belonged to you then and wasn’t about to knock on the door to find out. Wrote down the license plate number though just in case. I also called Michael’s home phone and heard Mrs. Rossi’s voice asking the caller to leave a message. So I decided the car had to be her rental car. Then that day I saw you going into Wainwright’s office I went down to the parking lot and checked all the cars in the visitor’s section and saw that car there and surmised it was yours. Lucky guess.”
Scott was swamped with amazement and admiration for what Michael and Benny had pulled off, despite the obvious strain it had caused on Benny and the danger it had put Michael and Cindy’s lives in now. Between the two of them they had brought a bunch of crime lords to their knees and a corrupt company to the brink of bankruptcy. Whether it was a smart thing to do or not was beyond his comprehension. But one thing he did know and that was that wherever Michael was he was not going to be found that easily.
“What did you do with those discs Michael gave you?” Scott asked. “I know you said you destroyed the one you made with the sell instructions on it, but do you still have the ones with Michael’s data base on them?”
Benny looked at Scott long and hard, as if trying to make a decision. “Before I answer that question,” he said. “I am curious as to how you knew I was involved in all this?”
“Linda said she saw you at a Seven Eleven store later that same day. She said she tried to get your attention but you drove off before she could. I had told her what the person I saw running off that day looked like from behind and it rang a bell when she saw you. She remembered then that Cindy had told her you had left Merrill Lynch and was working at McLean’s. She had a feeling it had to be you.”
Benny nodded. “Give her my love. She was like a second mother to me growing up. I wish she could have met my wife and kids.”
“I’m sure she feels the same way about you,” said Scott. “And you honestly don’t know where Michael and Cindy are now?”
“I have no idea,” said Benny. Then he slid to the edge of the seat in the booth. “I can’t tell you anymore than that. I have to get home now before Rosie gets worried. Don’t come out with me. I don’t want anyone to see us together. I... I have something in the trunk of my car for you. I’ll put it on the ground under your car on the driver’s side.”
Then he was gone and Scott sat sipping his beer. After about five minutes, when he was sure Benny would have left the parking lot, he walked out of the bar and unlocked the door to his car. Deliberately, he dropped his keys, then bent down to pick them up, his hand closing over a small manila envelope as he straightened up and got into his car. As far as he could tell there was no one around watching him but nothing was certain anymore. His hand reached for the manila envelope as he drove and he felt it. It was what he had hoped for. Benny had given him Michael’s discs. Thank God he hadn’t destroyed them too although why he hadn’t was a mystery. Perhaps his loyalty to Michael and Cindy had stopped him from disposing of them. The poor guy must have had nightmares knowing they were in his car and not knowing what to do with them.
Scott’s adrenalin started pumping as he realized he now had enough information to find out what Grant had hinted at and, hopefully, help clear Michael’s name.
CHAPTER 19
Wednesday, June 25, 2003:
Linda awoke early to the sounds of birds chirping outside the window. For a few minutes she just lay there and smiled, remembering how much she had loved that sound every morning when she had lived in her Costa Mesa house. She no longer felt afraid for Cindy and Michael. When Scott had called last night he had little to say, telling her he didn’t want to talk too much over the telephone but when he returned he would have good news for her.
She got out of bed and hurried to the shower, her eyes catching on her reflection in the mirror and causing her to groan. Her hair looked like something the cat had dragged in. She had to get to a hairdresser before Scott came back and saw her like that. And she needed some new clothes too; pants, tops, comfortable shoes, even underwear. In fact she felt so good this morning she decided to go on a splurge.
“Good morning,” said Maggie cheerfully when Linda came into the kitchen. “Sleep well?”
“Best night’s sleep I’ve had for a couple of weeks,” said Linda, sitting at the table where Maggie had placed a mug of coffee for her. “You remind me so much of my daughter,” she said. “Not so much in looks but the cheerful way you have about you. And she’s tall too, about the same height as you are.”
“She sounds like someone I would enjoy meeting,” said Maggie, scrambling some eggs and popping bread in the toaster. “Anything special you want to do today? Dad said I have to baby sit you.” They both laughed.
“Actually,” Linda said. “I would love to find a good hairdresser and do something with this,” she lifted a lock of her hair. “I need a good highlighting job and a trim. And I need some clothes badly.”
“Hey that’s great,” cried Maggie, dishing eggs onto two plates. “I’m a shopoholic myself, and I know a great hairdresser.”
* *
Scott had woken early as usual, and
after dressing headed down the hall to the kitchen where Jocelyn was feeding Mark. “Papa!” cried Mark, sending food dribbling out of the corners of his mouth,
“Hello little fella,” said Scott kissing the top of his head as one of Mark’s food covered little hands reached up to grab his cheek.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Jocelyn, giving a mock frown to Scott. “Here, you try. I can’t get him to feed himself. He’s as stubborn as all you Walker men.”
Scott took the spoon from her and sat down. “No problem,” he said. “I used to feed both my kids when they were little. They’ll pick up the spoon themselves when they’re ready.”
“Sure,” laughed Jocelyn, gabbing things from the refrigerator to prepare breakfast. As she whipped the eggs she stared through the kitchen window at the garden. “You and Dan did a great job pruning those trees last night,” she said. “I’m waiting to hear from the neighbors now about all that noise you guys were making.”
Scott lifted a full spoon towards Mark. “Was fun,” he said, then winced as Mark flung out his hand and sent the spoon flying, food splattering over Scott’s white shirt.