by Gary Land
“In case you missed the bulletin, he tried to kill me--twice,” Noly snarled.
“And you left him alive?” Collins asked.
“For now,” Noly replied. “He’s the same guy from earlier at my apartment. He killed Hutchinson. And Joey Trainor.”
Collins walked into the den, bent down, and looked at Hutchinson. Noly called his answer machine and played back Shepherd’s confession for Collins.
“Johnson, where are you? Get your butt in here,” Collins yelled.
Johnson jogged in from outside. He had a note pad in his hand and a pencil behind his ear. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Book that asshole for two counts of murder, one count attempted murder, and make sure...”
Johnson started to interrupt, but Collins shut him up. “Don’t ever interrupt me when I’m pissed off. I already got one loose cannon to deal with,” he said, pointing at Noly.
“Sorry.”
“I want two of our cars to escort the ambulance back to the hospital. Put four guys on guard in the jail ward. And get me a warrant for Joseph Morelli and his offices at the Platinum Palace Casino.”
“Uh, it’s kinda late, sir, I don’t know...” Johnson started.
Collins held up his hand. “Find me a judge, and wake him the fuck up, and get me a warrant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Confident the warrant would arrive in a short time, Collins and Noly started their search of the house. Beginning with the back bedrooms, they spent forty minutes opening drawers, checking closets, and hunting for anything of substance. They found nothing and worked their way back to the den where Noly had questioned Hutchinson. The coroner had removed the body by that time and Johnson returned with the warrant.
“Judge Gilmore was pissed off--she’s not a happy camper when someone wakes her up.” Johnson told Collins.
“Oh, gee, now I’m going to lose sleep knowing that,” Collins said.
Noly sat in a recliner, eyes closed, rubbing his scar. Collins sighed, walked to the desk, and sat down in the leather office chair.
“At least we know who killed Trainor.” Collins said.
“Doesn’t help me find Sarah and Kacy,” Noly worried. “I still need to follow the chip.”
Johnson didn’t want to be a third wheel, but as he turned to leave, he pulled his note pad out. “I checked the title on this house, belongs to a Victor Strella--he works as a consultant for the PP Casino--he’s also Morelli’s cousin.” Johnson used his fingers as air quotes when he said “consultant.”
“Okay, thanks, Eric.” Collins nodded his head, which Johnson took to mean that it was time for him to leave.
“Johnson,” Noly called him back.
“Yes, sir.” Johnson grimaced. He hadn’t meant to say “sir,” but it seemed a natural thing to do with Noly.
“You searched Trainor’s apartment, right?”
“Yes, we...”
“Did you find his computer? Noly asked.
“No, we didn’t.”
“Jim, there’s no computer equipment in this entire house, no monitors, no printers, no cabling or routers, except that,” Noly said pointing to a laptop sitting in the corner of the couch.
Collins perked up. “You think that’s Joey’s computer?”
“If I had to place a bet then yeah.” Noly answered.
“Johnson, take it back to the station and have Brad check it out,” Collins told Johnson.
“Wait a minute, Johnson.” Noly stopped him again. “Do you have anything else on Trainor or his girlfriend?” It almost sounded like a plea.
“Sorry, there’s not much going on. They were both pretty clean, parking tickets, a civil case on some rear-ender that Jennifer Thomas was involved in...Trainor liked to gamble,” Johnson said. “Not so good at it though.”
“How bad?” Collins asked.
“Word is he probably has markers out around town, but he’s small potatoes so no one pays that much attention.”
“Find out who holds the marker,” Collins told Johnson. He stood up and went over to Noly. “Come on Noly, let’s go--you need to get some sleep.”
Chapter 26
Friday night rolled into Saturday morning with the temperature never dropping below eighty degrees. Even with the air conditioning running all night, Noly woke covered in sweat. The nightmares no doubt contributed greatly to his condition. Variations on a theme. His failure to save them.
The phone rang and Noly rolled over and looked at the digital clock next to his bed. The readout said 8:06. Caller ID showed Collin’s cell number so he pulled the cordless phone off its charging cradle. Noly took a deep breath, afraid to answer the phone. He dreaded hearing what he knew Collins would tell him--Sarah and Kacy were dead.
“Stop it,” Noly chastised himself. He pushed the button to answer the call. “Yeah.”
“Hey--sorry to wake you.” Collins paused, but didn’t really expect Noly to acknowledge that, so he continued. “The Feds want to meet.”
“Good for them.”
“At the bank...nine o’clock.”
“Right, well, don’t wait on me...I won’t be there.”
“You have somewhere else to be?” Collins chided him.
Noly realized he didn’t. Thornton and Morelli were both missing. He had no leads--just the chip. And the chip was worthless. He was sure of it. The account numbers would be valid, but there would be no funds in them. Morelli knew Trainor hacked into his files and downloaded the accounts, so he’d be an utter fool to leave his slush funds in those accounts. No, Morelli moved them, then he had Trainor killed. Just to be sure, he’d have to get the printout to his bankers, they could verify it for him.
This whole case still seemed almost random to him. It may have started out as a plan, but it didn’t end up one. Just people reacting to events like a guy spinning plates. Except the guy was dead and plate after plate came crashing down. Noly didn’t want to think what would happen when that last plate fell.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there...Jim, don’t tell the Feds about the chip. I may still need it.”
Noly and Collins were ushered onto a different floor and into a different conference room than before. The furniture seemed identical to the room where they talked with Buckley, the only difference being the carpet. This one had a blue diamond design surrounded by a field of black. It gave the room a classier feel, like more important meetings took place here. The two Suits from yesterday were waiting for them.
The Black-Suit turned out to be Special Agent Nathan Morales, and the more attractive woman was Special Agent Cindy Braden. Neither one wore a jacket today. They both were dressed casually, and Morales had his sleeves rolled up. He looked frustrated and tired.
Braden sat at the head of the table watching Morales, who held several documents in his hand. He motioned for Noly and Collins to take a seat, and without so much as a “Howdy-do,” he started in.
“We’d like you to update us on your investigation into the death of Joey Trainor and his activities at the Platinum Palace Casino,” Morales said.
“Yeah, I bet you do,” Collins answered.
They stared at each other, and Collins finally broke the silence. “Is this your first investigation, Agent Morales?”
“You know it isn’t.”
“Then you must think I’m a rookie cop, or maybe just some kind of moron, is that it?” Collins didn’t wait for an answer. “You called this meeting because you need our help, but help is not free in Las Vegas. Now, we’ll be glad to cooperate with you...” Collins started, looking at Noly. “Well, I’ll be glad to cooperate with you--I can’t speak for my friend here.”
Morales hesitated, sighed, and finally looked at Agent Braden. Noly had already been watching her, realizing from the beginning that she outranked Morales. She nodded her head at the agent, and Noly turned to face him to hear what he would say.
“We’ve discovered some fraudulent loan activity,” Morales said.
“You mean besides the fraudulent wire
transfers?” Noly asked.
“Well, yes...in addition to those.” Morales paused and looked at Noly.
Collins watched Noly rub his scar--this wasn’t going to be good.
“Are you going to tell us about it, or do you need an engraved invitation?” Noly said.
“Noly, come on,” Collins said.
“This is bullshit.” Noly slammed his fist down on the table, and pointed his finger at Morales. “I’m not going to play twenty questions with you--next time you open your mouth, you better explain the whole goddamned thing to me, or I’m out of here. I should be out there looking for Sarah and Kacy anyway.”
The door at the far end of the room opened and what appeared to be a Sumo wrestler wearing a suit and tie walked in. The man had the physique of a fire plug. He carried a large, travel-size mug of coffee in his hand. Braden and Morales immediately jumped out of their seats and stood at attention.
“Hi, Noly. It’s been a long time,” the man said. His voice was quiet but confident. “Hope I’m not too late.”
Noly turned and stood up. He walked over and shook hands with the man. The shake turned into a brief hug that had both men patting each other on the back. Noly towered over him vertically, while Sumo-man doubled Noly horizontally.
“Jim, this is a friend of mine, John Watanabe. He’s a senior something-or-other in the FBI. He outranks these guys by thirty years.”
Born in Hawaii, Watanabe lived in Japan until he was fifteen, and then returned to the United States where he finished his schooling. He eventually earned his law degree and joined the FBI.
Collins stood and shook John’s hand. He saw a man in his early sixties that had a look and a presence that conveyed strength and wisdom. Noly introduced him as a friend, which was rare enough, but to hug the man--this was a story he wanted to hear, but it would have to wait for another time.
“You didn’t have to come down here, John,” Noly said.
Watanabe sat down next to Noly. “No problem at all.”
Watanabe gently flicked his chin at Agent Braden. “Special Agent Braden, the FBI will cooperate fully with Las Vegas Metro, and you will extend every courtesy to my friend, Mr. Butowski.”
“Yes, sir,” Braden said. Morales handed her the documents he was holding, and then left the room.
“Agent Braden will brief you on what we know so far,” Watanabe said. “Noly, I’m sorry to hear about Sarah and Kacy Benson. I understand they’re close friends of yours.”
“Thanks, John.” Noly turned to Braden. “What can you tell me about the loan fraud?”
“We’ve had two of our best forensic accountants going through all banking activity since the last audit, which was approximately six months ago. I assume you are familiar with the Casino deposit and wire transfer fraud already, so I’ll concentrate on the loan fraud.”
Agent Braden organized the papers in front of her and then continued. “Jennifer Thomas had loan approval authority of one million dollars. She could make business loans up to that amount without any additional approval from her boss. Her job required her to bring in new business accounts, checking, savings, and investments--and to make various loans and lines of credit.”
“Wait a minute,” Noly started. “Who’s her boss?”
Braden flipped through some pages to verify the name. “Troy Buckley.”
Noly and Collins exchanged a look. “When did she start granting phony loans,” Noly asked.
“About two months ago. Actually, it’s been forty-two days. She made three fraudulent loans. All of them to real businesses in and around Las Vegas. Of course, those businesses knew nothing of the loans and never received any funds. Addresses were all entered as the Bank’s own address and attention Jennifer Thomas...which is a violation of banking procedures.”
“What amounts?” Collins asked.
“One was an equipment loan for six hundred fifty thousand dollars. The other two were both lines of credit for seven hundred fifty thousand dollars each. The total fraudulent amount for the three loans is two million one hundred fifty thousand dollars. Plus interest earned on that amount.”
Collins already knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Anything left?”
“No, all funds have been distributed to phony accounts and have also been wire transferred out of the country.”
“We’ve contacted the foreign banks in question,” Watanabe said, “but the money is no longer in their control. The accounts are empty, and we have not been able to trace them further.”
“Why is that?” Collins asked.
Braden looked at Watanabe to see if he wanted to answer, but he just nodded at her to continue. “There’s no incentive for them to cooperate further. The whole point of these banks is confidentiality. Assuming we could compel them legally to give us the wire transfer instructions, it would take weeks or months to find out, and then the data would be worthless.”
“The funds would be gone in any event,” Watanabe said.
“So they stole the money from the casino, and decide to go for broke and steal some bank money too,” Noly said
“Almost five million dollars all together,” Braden said.
Noly knew that wasn’t the end of it either. There was still the chip, Morelli’s accounts not related to the casino or bank. Joey died because his greed took over. If he had been content to keep the casino money, almost three million, he’d be sitting in the sun in the Cayman Islands. Even the bank fraud wouldn’t have been discovered. What a fool.
“Are you telling me there’s no oversight on what Jennifer Thomas did--no checks or balances?” Collins asked.
Watanabe took a sip of his coffee. “That’s not the way most banks are set up. That’s why they give out authorization limits in the first place. Based on competence, experience, length of service, the bank assigns a limit and then the bank officer has absolute authority in granting the loan. Of course, all loans are subject to random reviews, or if there is a default on the part of the borrower.”
Braden added, “These loans were new, and interest payments were made as agreed, so no one would have bothered reviewing these...”
Collins cell rang. He looked at the display, and interrupted Braden. “It’s my partner, Johnson...excuse me a minute.” He walked towards the far corner and paced the width of the room. He became more and more animated until he twirled around and asked Braden for her email address. Collins relayed the address to Johnson and said, “Good work, Eric--meet me at the bank.”
“He found something?” Noly asked.
“Johnson has some video he wants us to see,” Collins said. He explained to Braden and Watanabe how they were trying to track the phone calls Joey Trainor had received, and found a throw-away cell number on the records. “The phone was purchased at Wal-Mart last Tuesday at 12:45PM on register six. They have continuous video feed that they keep for a week and then overwrite the digital files.”
“Okay, I got it,” Braden said. She opened the email and clicked on the attachment. The file downloaded to her laptop, and the video player kicked off. The fuzzy playback had a date/time stamp in the bottom left corner, and another group of numbers in the bottom right that could have been camera or location identifications.
“Why aren’t these things ever in focus?” Collins complained.
“We can clean it up in the lab,” Braden promised.
“Okay, here he comes--you’re going to love this, Noly.” Collins smiled and watched his friend.
Noly’s poker face betrayed nothing as he said, “Buckley.”
“Troy Buckley?” Watanabe said. “Is he at the bank today?”
“No, sir,” Braden answered. ‘We’ll find him.”
“Not if I find him first, the little prick,” Collins growled. “If we hadn’t booked Joey’s killer last night, I’d arrest Buckley for murder one.”
“The FBI has jurisdiction here, Detective Collins,” Watanabe reminded him. “But right now, we don’t have much. Buckley buys a phone and calls Joey Trainor--it wo
uld be tough to convince a prosecutor to go forward with that, let alone get a jury to convict on anything.”
“You want a confession from Buckley, then send Noly to talk to him,” Collins said.
“Not interested.” Noly stood up. “This guy’s a weasel--I’m sure John and Agent Braden will have no trouble making Buckley for loan fraud. Thanks for coming down, John.” Noly shook hands with Watanabe and nodded his head at Braden.
“Hey, it’s Vegas, not that big a deal,” Watanabe said.
“I know it was,” Noly replied.
“Good luck with Sarah and Kacy.”
“I’m afraid that luck is all I’ve got left.”
“Noly, I can’t technically classify this as a kidnapping, but I can pull some strings and mobilize a task force at short notice. We’ve got a lot of good agents here in the Vegas field office. Just let me know what you need.”
Noly thanked John. He supposed he knew that Watanabe would make the offer and he was ready for it. “John, our best lead right now is to find Joseph Morelli, he--”
“I know, Noly, we’re already on it.”
Chapter 27
Noly spotted the Ford Taurus as he left the bank. But he didn’t let Collins know.
Collins checked in with Johnson, who told him that Brad Williams, the tech guru, had made progress on Joey’s laptop.
“I’ll meet you back at your office in an hour--we can recap the case,” Noly said.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got something to take care of first.”
Collins raised an eyebrow. “One hour. Don’t kill anyone, Noly.”
Noly walked towards his car and muttered under his breath, “No promises.” His anger level rising, Noly felt like tearing something apart, so when the Taurus made itself known, Noly couldn’t wait to pounce on it. He had memorized the plate numbers from the list Collins gave him. He was positive this was one of Glasser’s cars.
Noly hopped into the Escalade, and pulled into traffic. He watched the Taurus slowly follow, keeping three to four car lengths behind. Noly drove as if he didn’t have a care in the world. After he was sure they were following, he never looked back at the mirror, but headed straight for a Convenience market he used on