Solid Oak

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by William F Lovejoy

“Yes. I am an account holder.”

  “Come inside, please.”

  Inside was a simple lobby the full width of the storefront, finished in beige with a few plants in large pots. The front windows and the window in the door had black steel bars on the inside. No spoiling the outside appearance. There were two sets of visitor chairs and a single desk. The young woman went behind the desk and sat before her computer.

  “May I have you name, please?”

  “Alicia May Hampstead.”

  The Chairman had never recognized that the codename he assigned her was actually her middle name.

  Click, click.

  “Yes, there you are. Do you wish to see a banker?”

  “I do.”

  Ten minutes later, she was seated in a small comfortable office with a short, very obese man who was almost completely bald. He had an accent she couldn’t place, but thought it was European. Maybe Danish. He stole quick glances at her chest.

  Alicia provided her account number and password. This account was her safety net, and it held only $10,000. She had had it for over two years. He tapped at his keyboard with two fingers.

  “Yes,” he said. “Here it is.”

  “I would like to transfer additional funds to this account,” she said.

  “Of course.” Another glance at her cleavage. She leaned forward a little to help him out.

  “But I want to have my other account issue a draft, and then deposit the proceeds immediately to this account.”

  He understood that she was breaking the trail of transfers, but he didn’t mention it.

  “Certainly, Ms. Hampstead. Do you have the other account number and password?”

  “I do. There are six passwords.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that and waited while she retrieved her list of passwords from her purse and handed it to him. He tapped away with those busy two fingers. And after he saw the account and its balance, he raised the other eyebrow.

  No problem. The transaction fee at .25 percent made him a quick $125,000. Plus the visual stimulation.

  And fifteen minutes later, she entered the taxi the young woman had called for her and headed back to the Blue Waters. Her purse contained $10,000 in cash she had withdrawn from her now fattened account.

  She was free and clear.

  Soon she would call the Chairman. Perhaps she would make a demand or two.

  *

  “God, it’s beautiful,” Galway said. The sea off to her right was so blue it hurt her eyes. A dozen boats were off-shore, four of them sailboats with white sails that reflected the afternoon sun.

  “It’s a favorite spot. I told you I like to travel.”

  They were driving north in a Chevy rented from Budget, staying in the left lane. Other drivers left something to be desired, like driving talent. Very few signaled their intent to turn or stop. In fact, she had seen four cars now that apparently didn’t have working brake lights. One car stopped abruptly in front of them, with no flaring of brake lights, and Malone had to slam on the brakes.

  “Law enforcement here is not particularly interested in enforcing traffic rules,” he told her.

  They had stopped once at the Bank of Antigua where Oak went in and came back out in fifteen minutes with a smile and apparently more money. After he made a phone call, he drove another mile or so, pulled into a street to the west, and left her long enough to go to a cottage and meet an old friend. He came back with a Glock .40 and two additional magazines for it.

  Jabberwock Road became Hodges Bay Main Road and then curved to the west, still right on the seaside. They passed dozens of beautiful homes and resorts that she was certain cost millions.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to check into the same resort where Alicia’s staying?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking she doesn’t know what we look like, Melissa.”

  Bobbi was still having trouble thinking of herself as Melissa Williamson. She knew she was breaking a bunch of laws traveling under her fake documents. The hell of it was, she didn’t care because she trusted Oak implicitly. New sensation, relying on anyone but herself.

  They finally reached the Blue Waters Resort and Spa. Oak turned right and drove into the parking lot. An attendant appeared immediately and took control of the luggage. The reservation was in order, and they were shown to an impressive suite with a balcony overlooking the swimming pool and the beach.

  She knew some people lived like this, but she’d never thought it would be her. When she’d vacationed in Nassau, she’d taken almost the cheapest deal she could find.

  “This is really something, Oak.”

  “Like it? One of the perks of your job. So, do you want to go sailing or right to bed?”

  She really kind of appreciated his interest in activities amorous. But. . . .

  “Oak, I need to finish chasing that one account.”

  “No rush, I think. Let’s sail for an hour.”

  “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  “All right with me.”

  “Where would you get a boat?”

  “The resort has them. See down there on the beach. Red and blue and yellow sail? It’s a nice little catamaran.”

  So they sailed for close to two hours, Bobbi in jeans and a pullover. Oak wore a T-shirt and khaki walking shorts. It was a first time in any small boat for her, and she marveled at the way Oak handled the rudder and the lines running to the single big sail. The sea was serene and the water whished under the hull. He coached her on watching the wind by the telltale on the mast and swinging the boom to tack into another direction. He let her take the helm.

  And she enjoyed the hell out of it.

  Afterwards, they changed clothes and went down to the dining room for dinner. Halfway through that, Malone looked up at the entrance to the dining room and said, “There you go, tall and blonde with big tits.”

  She turned to get a look at Alicia Hampstead in a yellow sundress as she was led to a table. Her large breasts were partially revealed by the low cut of the bodice. Her small waist flared into smooth hips. The woman wasn’t what she’d expected, given what Bobbi knew about her. Stealing money, manipulating incidents around the world for profit. Killing Dinmore, sending Dean Mal, Conrad Sherry and Henry Kincaid after Malone and Galway. Even if Hampstead hadn’t acted by herself, she was still consorting with someone else who didn’t mind murdering innocents.

  “Is she going to get away with everything she’s done?”

  Oak said, “Not while we know about it.”

  “I want to go over there right now and pound on her head.”

  Malone grinned. “Maybe tomorrow. We really want to see if she leads us to anyone else.”

  “That’s pretty much the boss man, isn’t it? Dinmore and Dixon are out of the picture, and we know where Mears is.”

  “I hope that’s where we’re headed.”

  Bobbi was afraid they were going to find Patrick at the end of that road.

  *

  Malone let Bobbi go back to the room, and he hung around in the lobby until Hampstead reappeared from the dining room. She went out on the deck for twenty minutes to watch the swimmers in the pool and sip an iced tea at table by herself. Male passers-by gave her the eye, but she didn’t hook up with anyone.

  When she came back inside, he trailed after her but stayed far enough away to not rouse her suspicions. As soon as he discovered what room she was in, he abandoned the chase and went up to the Williamson’s room to find Galway bent over her laptop at the desk.

  “Did you get to know her?” Bobbi asked.

  “Not really. We didn’t exchange word one. I don’t think she’s meeting anyone here. At least not yet.”

  “That’s because she been too busy this afternoon.”

  “Oh?”

  “I finally got into that last account transfer, and guess what?”

  “What?”

  “The fifty million shrank to 16.5 million.”

  Malone pulled one of the easy chairs over next to
the desk and sat next to her. “How does that happen?”

  “Well, the 50.2 million was withdrawn by draft this morning. And the new money came from the sales of stock in the brokerage accounts. I went and checked each of them. It looks like TR transferred out 4.6 million on his own before the rest of his brokerage accounts were raided. The CH, VC, MD, and part of the TR accounts were all transferred into the account I just got into. The brokerage accounts are all kaput.”

  “Damn. That means she’s got over sixty-six million. And if Big Sister took it all, the others may be pissed.”

  “More important, we don’t know where the fifty went. We can’t track it by transfer.”

  “She’ll probably withdraw the rest tomorrow,” Malone said.

  “That’s likely.”

  “I’ll follow her in the morning, maybe locate the bank. With that kind of money, she’s got to be using a bank.”

  “You sure you don’t just want to cuddle up to a rich woman?” Bobbi asked.

  “I think I’ve got all the woman I’d ever need right here.”

  Bobbi leaned toward him. Her eyes seemed a little misty.

  He kissed her.

  He’d made the right statement.

  Bobbi put her hands on his shoulders and pushed lightly.

  “One other thing.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Washington Metro has issued an arrest warrant for you.”

  Chapter Seventeen – Wednesday, June 26

  The phone rang at three in the morning. The Chairman had been expecting the call, but not so early.

  Not that he had been sleeping. That was impossible. Mears had called him late for Arizona time.

  “That goddamned May has gone after the brokerage accounts.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sell orders were placed on every stock in my accounts, and shit, some of those stocks were nowhere near peak. I managed to get four million back from my big account, but the other two were wiped out. Hell, maybe it’s not May, but she doesn’t answer her phone. I’ll bet that fucking Malone got to it. Or got to her.”

  The Chairman didn’t even bother trying to get more detail. He hung up and went to his computer. In minutes he learned that all of his stock holdings were gone.

  That put him in a hell of a position. He had around $12,000 in his local bank accounts and maybe $6,000 in cash around the house. His legit stock holdings amounted to approximately $200,000, but they’d been losing value steadily.

  Twenty-five million dollars had gone away.

  Could Malone have been responsible? He didn’t see how. So many accounts, so many passwords.

  Where in hell was May? Perhaps Mears was correct. Malone had abducted May and was using a pair of pliers on her. He wouldn’t put that past Malone. Shit, waterboarding was tame to most of those guys.

  He’d paced the floor, drank more Scotch than he should. No sleep, no time for the nubile young thing named Alison who frequently eased his tensions.

  He was stretched out on his big king bed, quiet with no one else stirring in the big house, staring at the revolving ceiling fan, when the cell phone announced itself. He swept it off the nightstand and looked at the readout.

  May.

  He tried to keep his voice level, unconcerned. “Where have you been?”

  “Trying to get to a place of safety, Chair.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Malone called me at the office. He knew everything. Passwords. File names.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure it out. Nevertheless, I was afraid he’d show up with the FBI.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “In a safe place. I’m not saying more right now.”

  Do not press her too much at the moment.

  “The Treasurer called. He’s missing assets. I checked my accounts and found out they’re also gone. What happened, May?”

  There was a long pause. She was thinking, which was not a good sign.

  “I’m not sure, but I think Malone cleaned them out.”

  “No.”

  “He had all the passwords. It was no sweat for him. Or maybe it was Galway.”

  Galway would have the skills.

  “But you can track the transactions, right?”

  The Chairman couldn’t do it, but he was certain that Alicia could.

  “I’m working on that,” she said. “I’ll probably be able to get most of it back.”

  That was a relief. If anyone could do it, Alicia could.

  “I’ll call you later, after I’ve done some checking around.”

  “Thank you, May.”

  He rested there in the bed. Then he decided he couldn’t trust her. Not with that much money involved.

  *

  Conrad Sherry didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do.

  No one was calling him, and he couldn’t reach May because she wasn’t bothering to answer her phone. He couldn’t find Malone or Galway. They had completely disappeared.

  He’d already decided that, if he didn’t hear something from someone by the end of the day, he’d bail out and go back to Aruba. He had the 150K, and he wouldn’t get the additional 300K, but hell, that’s the way it was. He’d be taking a risk, going through airport security and Aruba immigration with his new passport, but fortunately, he didn’t need a visa.

  And he might have to go see some doctor in Aruba. The pain in his arm hadn’t subsided much, and when he changed the bandages, the entrance wound looked a little enflamed. It was swollen also.

  Best to travel at night, when people are tired and not looking too closely at faces. His beard was now six days into its growth, and he thought it was looking good.

  He was up at six, showered, and ready to leave the Best Western in search of breakfast by seven. And then the damned phone rang.

  He dug it out of his jeans pocket and checked the screen.

  “Hello, Chair.”

  “Get to the airport and get a flight. I want you on site by tonight.”

  The Chairman gave him instructions and abruptly cut off the call.

  “Well, shit.”

  At least he wasn’t waiting around. And he was getting out of the country, which was good.

  Couldn’t be better.

  *

  Malone’s breathing slowed, and he stretched his legs. Bobbi was wrapped in his arms, facing him, her forehead pressed against his neck. Her body was warm and soft. Her hair smelled of shampoo and heat.

  “If it were not for Alicia and her scummy friends,” she said, “this would be almost like a vacation.”

  “My best vacation ever, darling,” Oak said.

  She rocked her head against him. “Ummm.”

  “We can do this frequently.”

  Now she pulled her head back to look into his eyes. “You’re not even getting paid for this job.”

  “That’s just a detail. Sometimes, you have to go pro bono on behalf of Joe Q. Citizen.”

  “Big, tough agent you are.”

  “I learned that working for me is better than working for anyone else. I can decide what the rules are.”

  “What’s the rule for today?” Bobbi asked.

  “I’m hoping that Alicia meets someone. It’s the someone I’m most interested in at the moment.”

  “I suppose we’ll have to get up in order to do that.”

  “Eventually, my love.”

  And they did get up a half hour later. By 8:00 in the morning, room service had delivered coffee, fruit and toast for Bobbi, and a loaded plate for Malone.

  Forty-five minutes later, they were both sitting in the rental car in the parking lot. Both dressed in jeans and T-shirts, like most of the people on the island. Bobbi had elected to come with him rather than sit around the room or the pool or the beach. Oak thought they were in good shape. Most of the banks didn’t open their doors until 9:00.

  A little after 9:00, Alicia Hampstead appeared at the lobby
entrance, and a taxi moved up to collect her. Malone waited a few minutes, then started the car and pulled out of the lot and headed east, half a mile in back of the cab. Soon they were travelling Hodges Bay Main Road and curving south. That turned into Jabberwock Road. The traffic thickened, and more cabs appeared. He closed up a little so as not to lose sight of her taxi. Given the sometimes violent entry into traffic on the main road of other drivers in front of him, it got a little tricky.

  When he saw her car pull to the side of the road, he slowed considerably and was rewarded from behind with horns that actually worked. What’s the problem here? Can’t handle brake lights that function?

  Hampstead exited the taxi, looked around, then headed to a door and apparently rang a doorbell.

  “Get the name if you can, Bobbi.”

  He drifted south with the traffic, past a kind of strip mall of shops. Hampstead had disappeared inside the middle shop.

  “Caribbean Regional Investment Services,” Bobbi said. “Not very impressive.”

  “I’ll bet their bottom line is more impressive. The place is similar to one where I keep an account in George Town, Grand Cayman.”

  About two blocks down, he found a place to park, and they waited. Malone kept his eye on the rearview mirror.

  Hampstead was in the bank for less than half an hour. When she came out, a taxi was waiting for her. The cab continued south, passing Malone and Galway, and he cranked the wheel and took off after it. A while later, both cars turned west onto Old Parham Road.

  “She’s headed to St. John’s,” Oak said.

  “Which is?”

  “A rather congested resort area. Green Bay is deep enough to admit cruise ships. She’s going to meet someone. Or maybe she’s going shopping.”

  Shopping it was. And lunch by herself. And more shopping. While Oak kept an eye on Alicia, Bobbi found a designer boutique and bought herself a swimsuit.

  When she got back to the car, Malone said, “I hope it’s good.”

  “It’s two pieces of fabric, but they’re larger pieces. At my age, I’m not wearing what the teenagers wear.”

  “I don’t know why not. You’re beautiful, my love.”

  More waiting around, then with an armload of plastic bags, Hampstead caught a cab at 3:30 and they were back at Blue Waters shortly thereafter.

 

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