The Money Trail

by J. C. Fields

  Both Kruger and Joseph nodded.

  “This whole episode helped me see I need to step back from managing the day-to-day operations and do what I do best. Jodi will become the new president and CEO. Mia and I together will still own the majority of the stock, but I’ll only be chairman of the board and Mia will be over new products.”

  Kruger chuckled. “I thought Jodi already managed the day-to-day operations.”

  “She does,” JR smiled. “Her title doesn’t acknowledge it. Now it will.”

  Joseph also smiled. “Good. Glad you’re making changes. You’re going to need more time to help Sean.”

  Both JR and Kruger stared at their friend. Kruger spoke first. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Mary and I are moving to Washington for a year.”

  JR’s eyes widened. “What the hell for?”

  “Roy asked me to be his National Security Adviser. We’re going to rent an apartment and live there temporarily.”

  The room fell quiet again as Kruger and JR stared at Joseph with questioning expressions. Kruger broke the silence. “I take it you won’t be heading up the task force Roy asked us to start?’

  “Correct. You, FBI Agent Sean Kruger, were promoted to the position by the president. You now only report to him, no one else.”

  “Not even Paul Stumpf?”

  “No, Paul’s on board. He and the president worked out the details yesterday. You will have autonomy to choose your team and what resources you require.”

  Joseph turned his attention to JR.

  “You, Mr. Diminski, are now classified as a member of the FBI Cyber Division assigned permanently to Sean’s task force.”

  JR closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t suppose I have any say in the matter, do I?”

  “Nope. It’s a done deal.”

  JR folded his arms in front of him on the conference table, leaned over and rested his head on them.

  “Great. I’ve just become one of them.”

  Kruger smiled. “Yep, you are now officially one of the men-in-black-suits.”

  Joseph and Kruger laughed. JR muttered, “I don’t find it funny.”

  The laughter got louder.

  After Joseph explained his plans, JR looked at him and asked, “What about your place?”

  “Good question. Jimmie Gibbs is going to move in and keep an eye on it while we’re gone.”

  “Just how long do you think you’ll stay in Washington, Joseph?” Kruger’s expression remained questioning.

  “I didn’t want to commit to the job until Roy suggested I take it for a year. By then, he’ll have his feet on the ground and can find someone less…” Joseph pursed his lips, “…Unwilling.”

  Kruger nodded, finally understanding why Joseph accepted the position. “When are you two moving?”

  “We aren’t really moving. Mary’s in D.C. right now finding a furnished apartment. I’m leaving tomorrow to join her. Jimmie rented a U-Haul van and is driving. He should arrive this afternoon. His lease was up and he jumped at the opportunity. Apparently, he likes it here.”

  “What about all of his stuff?”

  “Storage. I don’t think he has much, or at least, it didn’t sound like it. He only rented a small transit van.”

  Chuckling, Kruger nodded. “Sandy told me he’s been kind of a nomad since he left the Navy. He doesn’t even own a car. When he was home, he drove one the bureau assigned.”

  Joseph nodded but did not respond.

  Tilting his head to the side, Kruger asked, “Do you know something I don’t know about Jimmie?”

  Taking a deep breath, Joseph nodded again. “When Jimmie was working with you on the missing college student’s case, it brought back memories of a dark chapter in his life.”

  Kruger frowned. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Very few people know about it, but I think you need to. Jimmie’s sister was abducted when she was fourteen. It didn’t end well. Both of his parents died not too long afterwards, his mother from cancer and his father’s grief drove him to commit suicide. Jimmie’s been on his own since. I think he’d like to get out of California and start a new chapter.”

  JR bowed his head and stared at his hands while Kruger nodded slowly.

  “He told me he was looking forward to working with you two again.”

  Kruger smiled.

  Chapter 13

  Montreal, Canada

  The large man threw his carry-on bag into the back seat of the white Chevy Malibu, closed the door and slid into the passenger seat. As soon as his door closed, the car accelerated away from the passenger pick-up curb at Montréal’s Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport.

  Looking at the driver, Boris Volkov smiled and said in Russian, “Good to see you again, Yuri.”

  Yuri Popov returned the smile and answered in the same language. “Everything is arranged. We will cross the border as businessmen.”

  “Excellent.” Volkov paused as he stared out the front windshield. “Dmitri is concerned about his plans in Washington. Pittman committing suicide was totally unexpected. He believes that one event pushed everything back five years, maybe more.”

  Popov shot a glance at Volkov. “Unless?”

  “Yes, unless we can convince Kyle Sandifer to do a favor for Dmitri.”

  With a smile, Popov nodded. “Do you think he will?”

  “Yes. Without Dmitri’s help last year, Sandifer would be a poor man. Now he will help us find the next Pittman. Plus, we have to find a way to disgrace the new president and undermine his reputation. If we don’t, he will be elected on his own in two years and then…”

  “Why not just assassinate Griffin?”

  “Too messy, and it raises too many conspiracy theories. Look at the last assassination of a US president. They are still debating about how many individuals shot JFK.”

  Popov grinned. “Yes, one of those theories is actually correct.”

  Chuckling, Volkov nodded. “Yes, but all the players are dead now. We have to be subtler about getting someone into a position of power in D.C.”

  Silence returned to the interior of the car as both men stared ahead. After a few minutes Popov reached behind him and retrieved a tan envelope from the back-seat floor. He handed it to Volkov.

  “These are for you.”

  Taking the envelope, the larger man undid the clasp and extracted a passport, Canadian driver’s license, a Platinum American Express card and $10,000 in US dollars.

  “Who am I?”

  “You are an agricultural consultant for the Ukrainian Embassy in Toronto working on the exportation of Canadian wheat to Ukraine.”

  Volkov chuckled. “I know nothing about wheat.”

  “You don’t have to. All you need to know is that Canada exported more wheat last year than the United States.”

  With narrowed eyes, Volkov glared at Popov. “You are kidding, of course.”

  With a shake of his head, Popov glanced at the big Russian. “No, it is true.”

  Silence returned as they drove toward the US border. As the border crossing loomed ahead, Popov broke the quiet. “You have an appointment with Kyle Sandifer at nine tomorrow morning. I will be available to drive you.”

  “Good.”

  ***

  Kyle Sandifer offered his hand to the large man who had just entered his office. His visitor was dressed in a gray pinstripe Brooks Brother’s wool suit with a white-on-white shirt and a red and light-gray striped tie. Dark brown hair was thinning on top and cut short. He wore rimless glasses on a broad nose in front of pale blue eyes. His bicep muscles stretch the material as they shook hands. The name on his business card introduced him as Illya Tokar, a resident of Toronto working for the Ukrainian embassy.

  Sandifer looked at the card and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Tokar. I understand you need assistance in negotiating wheat contracts here in the states.”

  Volkov did not respond immediately. He studied Sandifer for a few moments, then shook h
is head.

  “No. I am here to discuss a matter of great concern for the firm’s owners.”

  With his patented lawyerly neutral expression, Sandifer said nothing. Crossing his arms over this chest, he tilted his head. The two men stared at each other. Finally, Sandifer broke the silence.

  “How is Mr. Orlov?”

  “Upset.”

  “Oh? Why has he not contacted me about his concern?”

  With a slight smile, Volkov looked around Sandifer’s office. He saw numerous pictures of two young boys in baseball uniforms, the same two boys in tuxedos standing next to women in wedding gowns, small children and a picture of Sandifer standing next to a woman his same age.

  “He is not upset with you or this firm. He is upset about a situation and you can help.”

  Sandifer nodded as his stomach tightened. He pursed his lips as his mouth felt like cotton.

  “Excuse my manners. Please sit down so we can discuss how we may be of assistance.”

  Volkov recognized the action as stalling for time and silently he approved. Once both men were settled, Sandifer in his desk chair and Volkov in a high-back, leather wing chair in front of the desk, the Russian explained what Orlov required Sandifer to do.

  When Volkov was finished, Sandifer blinked several times before commenting. Finally, he spoke.

  “That would violate more than a dozen US laws, Mr. Tokar. Is Mr. Orlov aware of what he is asking?”

  “He is very much aware of what he is asking. You will be compensated for your efforts.”

  “I understand, but the risks to this firm outweigh the financial rewards. For the good of the firm, I can’t in good conscience allow that to happen. The actions you are requesting could risk his investment.”

  Volkov leaned forward in his chair and spoke in a voice just below a growl.

  “If I were you, I would be more worried about your risk before worrying about his risks.”

  The response from Sandifer was a few moments of rapid blinking. Finally, his neutral expression returned and he asked calmly, “Are you threatening me, Mr. Tokar?”

  “Not at all, just explaining about risk.” Volkov smiled grimly as he directed his gaze to the pictures on Sandifer’s credenza. “You have a nice family. I take it both of the boys are married now. How many grandchildren do you have, Mr. Sandifer?”

  The full realization of his situation caused bile to reach the back of Sandifer’s throat. He swallowed hard, but remained quiet as Volkov continued.

  “I’m sure a compromise can be reached for this firm to accommodate Mr. Orlov’s requests. Don’t you agree, Mr. Sandifer?”

  The attorney glared at Volkov as he said, “Yes, I’m sure something can be agreed upon.”

  Volkov stood suddenly.

  “Excellent. I will let Mr. Orlov know you have agreed to his request. Good day, sir.”

  The large man walked to the office door and turned before opening it.

  “Don’t change your mind, Mr. Sandifer. It would be unhealthy for you and your family.”

  After the man Sandifer knew as Illya Tokar left the office, the lawyer stared at the now closed door, his hands shaking. He sat unmoving behind his desk as he finally understood why Dmitri Orlov paid more than market value for the firm. He realized his greed allowed him and his partner Rothenburg to be played by a master manipulator. Only Rothenburg had the good sense to take his money and leave the company. Sandifer hoped his mistake was not a fatal one.

  He opened the top drawer of his desk and extracted a bundle of business cards held together with a rubber band. The cards were important enough to keep, but not important enough to be readily available.

  Removing the rubber band, he searched the bundle for the card he wanted. Halfway through the stack, he found it. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he studied the name on the card then began tapping it on his desk as he turned his head to stare out the window. The tapping continued.

  Ten minutes later, he turned back to face the desk. Replacing the rubber band around the remaining stack of cards, he returned the bundle to his top drawer. Hesitantly, he reached for the handset of his desk phone, looked at the card and started to punch in the number. Halfway through, he stopped and returned the phone to the base unit.

  Keeping his cell phone in the top right-hand drawer of his desk during business hours kept distraction down. Now he reached for it but hesitated before punching in the number. The stupidity of calling the number on a cell phone struck him as a very bad idea.

  Opening his laptop, he waited until it booted up before placing a 32-gig flash drive in one of the USB ports. He copied a large file to the small device and watched as the progress bar increased in size. When completed, he closed the laptop, removed the drive and placed it in his pocket.

  After locking his desk, he retrieved the business card from the desk top, placed it in his wallet, stood and left the office. Not making the call was probably the smart thing to do at this time.

  He was wrong.

  Chapter 14

  Springfield, MO

  The Next Day

  Most days, JR arrived at his cubicle on the second floor no later than 6:30 a.m., sometimes earlier.

  Today he was late.

  Jodi Roberson’s normal routine included climbing the stairs to the second floor to check with JR about any new projects needed by their clients and to give him any financial updates she deemed necessary. She always arrived at 7:30 a.m. and this morning was no exception. When she found the second floor dark and JR’s cubicle unoccupied, a hint of concern tugged at the back of her mind. But having worked for JR for six years, she quickly dismissed it.

  By 8:00, JR was still absent. At this hour of the morning, the building was humming with activity as other associates began their day.

  When 8:30 arrived without JR making an appearance, Jodi thought about calling his cell phone, hesitated and decided against it.

  At 10:12, JR and Mia walked through the front door, holding hands, both smiling broadly. He stopped at Jodi’s office and asked her to join him and Mia in the conference room upstairs.

  When all three were settled with fresh cups of coffee at the conference table, JR stood and shut the door. After he was seated again, he smiled and said, “Jodi, Mia and I have some news for you and the company.”

  The current vice president returned the smile and took a sip of coffee.

  “Good or bad news?” she asked.

  “Good news.”

  She nodded, but did not comment.

  “Mia and I have been at the company attorney’s office this morning. We’ve decided to make a few corporate changes.”

  Jodi raised her eyebrows but maintained her silence.

  JR continued, “We started the process of turning the company into an ESOP this morning. Which means each current associate will receive stock in the company. Mia and I will hold equal shares amounting to fifty-six percent. You will be the next largest shareholder and will become CEO and company president.”

  She had raised her coffee cup halfway to her lips, but stopped as her now-wide eyes stared at JR and then at Mia. Returning the cup to the table, she blinked several times.

  “What about you and Mia?” Jodi asked.

  “Mia will continue her role as Director of New Products and I will be stepping back from my normal day-to-day activities. I’ll be more of a consultant than anything else.”

  “But…” Jodi continued to look back and forth between the two people on the opposite side of the table. “But…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. In a quiet voice she said, “I don’t have the first clue about being a CEO or president.”

  “Nonsense,” JR chuckled. “You’re doing it right now. Your duties won’t change, only your title and salary.”

  Her look changed from shock to confusion, back to shock and finally settled on suspicion.

  “Okay, JR, I know you. What’s going on? Why now?”

  JR shrugged.

  Jodi looked at Mia and said,
“Since he won’t tell me, will you?”

  Mia smiled. “JR wants to insure the longevity of the company and make it a more desirable place to work. Plus, he’ll be working with Sean Kruger more in the coming months and years.”

  After a slow nod, Jodi smiled.

  “I want a conference room built on the first floor,” she said. “You’ll have this one tied up.”

  “Agreed,” JR smiled. “Figure out where you want it.”

  ***

  Later That Afternoon

  Kruger stared at the monitor. The video feed frozen as the three men studied one of the FBI’s electronic surveillance recordings of the front entrance of the Rothenburg and Sandifer law firm.

  “That’s Boris Volkov,” Sandy Knoll said, his arms crossed as he stood next to Kruger.

  “That’s what I thought, too. When was this recorded, JR?”

  JR turned and looked up at Kruger. “Yesterday morning.” Returning his attention to the monitor, he pointed at the figure walking toward the front entrance of the building. “Watch the time stamp.” With a click of the mouse, the recording jumped ahead thirty-two minutes and started playing.

  The image of Boris Volkov exiting the building appeared.

  “Meeting lasted around thirty minutes. Now watch who picks him up.”

  A white Chevy Malibu pulled to the curb and Volkov opened the front passenger door. A face appeared in the driver’s side window as it checked for oncoming cars before pulling out into traffic. JR froze the video with the face visible. He looked up at Sandy Knoll to ask, “Recognize him?”

  A slight smile appeared on Knoll’s face.

  “I’ll be damned. Yuri Popov. How’d those two SOBs get into the country?”

  Kruger leaned forward to study the image, “I haven’t heard anything about them since our meeting in Paris with Orlov. Both are on an FBI watch list, which raises several questions. How did they get into the country? And, why is Volkov meeting with Sandifer?”