The Money Trail

by J. C. Fields

  With a paternal smile, Kruger asked, “What type of information?”

  “All kinds.”

  Nodding slightly, Kruger changed tactics.

  “Who is John Zachara?” he asked.

  With a grim smile, Alexia pointed toward JR.

  JR stared at her for several moments, but said nothing.

  Kruger watched his friend to make sure he was okay and then turned his attention back to Alexia. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve always known who he was. Even after he changed his name to JR Diminski and posed as Zardoz in chat rooms. Why do you think I let you guys find me?”

  Shaking his head, JR took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “How?” he asked.

  “You have a singularly unique way of writing code that I have always admired.”

  JR’s eyes were now wide. “You’ve kept track of me?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you sell my real name to the Russians?”

  She studied the carpet below her seat and shrugged.

  Kruger frowned. “We’ll take that as a yes.”

  “I needed money. It was when they were frantically trying to confirm a body found in Mexico City was Alexi Kozlov.”

  Gibbs was not smiling anymore. “Seven years ago?”

  She nodded.

  “How did you know they were trying to confirm it?” Kruger asked.

  “It was all over the Russian Dark Web chat rooms.”

  “Was the name Abel Plymel ever used?”

  “Constantly. When he dropped out of sight, the chat rooms went hysterical. When a body without a face was found in Mexico City with Kozlov’s identification on it, a reward for information was offered.”

  “How much were they offering?” Kruger was now kneeling in the aisle, eyeball to eyeball with the woman.

  She glanced at him and then returned her attention to the floor. “I didn’t tell them anything until the reward reached half-a-million Euros.”

  Closing his eyes briefly, Kruger took a deep breath. “What information did you sell them?”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she blinked rapidly and turned to stare out the window next to her seat. She didn’t answer the question.

  “Alexia, I need an answer.”

  She shook her head as tears flowed down her cheek. Finally, after a minute, she answered, “I told them the body found in Mexico was not Kozlov.”

  “Did you tell them where the body was?”

  Shaking her head, she spoke in a whisper. “I did not know where Kozlov’s body was.” She took a breath and more tears rolled down her cheek. “I told them a man named John Zachara did.”

  “Did you tell them where he was?”

  She snapped her head up and stared Kruger in the eyes. “No.”

  “Did you tell them Zachara was JR Diminski?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did they pay you the reward?”

  Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly as tears flowed. “No.”

  “Then how did they know JR is Zachara?”

  Alexia moaned and closed her eyes. “I told them a week ago after they offered a million euros.”

  Kruger stood and looked at JR. He was staring at Alexia wide-eyed, his face as pale as the interior walls of the Gulfstream.

  Chapter 18

  Christian County, MO

  JR retreated to the back of the plane and buried himself in his laptop. Further questioning of the woman stopped as the team determined their next steps. His silence continued until they walked into Joseph’s home four hours later. JR took Mia’s hand and they both retreated to the second-floor room she and Joey were sharing.

  An hour after arriving, Jimmie Gibbs poured a cup of coffee for Alexia Montreal. She was sitting at the breakfast bar of the rural home, staring out the sliding glass door in the kitchen. She had just taken a sip of the brew and made a face.

  In her native Catalonian, she asked, “How can Americans drink this shit?”

  Gibbs smiled, then answered her question in the same language with an accent heard on the streets of Barcelona. “It’s an acquired taste.”

  Her eyes widened and she stared at Gibbs. “I have not heard my language spoken like that in a long time. Are you from Barcelona?”

  He shook his head. “Southern California, but I’ve spent some time there.”

  She smiled grimly and returned to staring out the door. After a moment she looked back at him. “Am I a prisoner here?”

  Gibbs returned to English. “No, you’re free to come and go as you please.”

  She chuckled and answered in accented English, “Go where? I do not know where I am?”

  “Central United States.”

  “Well, that narrows it down.”

  Gibbs smiled. “You look different.”

  Alexia shrugged. She had taken a shower and now wore black leggings with a beige pull-over peasant blouse with black piping. Her hair was styled and she had on a hint of make-up. Gibbs was amazed at the transition. She was pretty.

  “The woman who owns this house is the same size. The FBI agent told me I could borrow some of her clothes.” Her smile disappeared as she glared at Gibbs. “It seems I was brought here without any of my own.”

  “It was deemed wise to get you out of Mexico as fast as possible.”

  She nodded and returned to staring out the glass door.

  Gibbs returned to Catalonian. “Alexia, why did you sell JR’s name to the Russians?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes as she blinked rapidly. Wiping the back of her hand against them, she shook her head. After a minute, she said. “I really don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but when they did not put funds into the bank account I gave them—well…”

  “So, they reneged on the deal.”

  Closing her eyes, she nodded slightly. “Again. A week and a half ago, I saw a man I had never seen before in the neighborhood paying too much attention to the café across from my apartment. I followed him when he left. He walked about a half a kilometer from the café and got in a black Mercedes.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  “The next day. He watched the café again but not the next. Different man watched for a few days and then the slender one returned four days ago. I did not see anyone yesterday or today. That is why I was able to get to the place where you found me.”

  Gibbs leaned his back against the breakfast bar. “Can you describe them?”

  “First man was tall, slender with black hair combed back. Second man more heavy set with bushy eyebrows and mustache.”

  Gibbs pursed his lips and opened the picture gallery on his cell phone. He found the picture he sought and showed it to her. “Is this one of the guys?”

  Alexia stared at the picture.

  “Yes, first man. How did you know?”

  “His name is Yuri Popov.”

  She looked at the picture and then again at Gibbs. “How do you know of this man?”

  He gave her a slight smile. “He’s part of a tag team with a man named Boris Volkov.” He changed the picture on his cell phone and showed a picture of Volkov taken in Paris. “Recognize him?”

  She shook her head. “He is not the second man. Who is he?”

  “That’s Boris Volkov.”

  “What is tag team? I have never heard of this term.”

  “They work together and do, uh, favors for Dmitri Orlov.”

  Nodding, she sipped her coffee.

  “Then I was lucky JR found me first.”

  “Yes.” He paused. “You are.” Sipping his coffee, he did not take his eyes off of her. “Alexia, how did they find you?”

  Another shrug. “Probably something I told them.”

  “What?”

  “I told them about the café near where I lived.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  Another shrug.

  “Alexia, we can’t help you if you don’t t
ell us the truth.”

  She slammed the coffee mug on the table and glared at Gibbs.

  “I DO NOT KNOW.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Maybe I am tired of hiding, maybe I unconsciously want my exile to end.” She paused and looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I have been alone for more than ten years. No family, no friends, no lovers, no pets, nothing. I don’t even remember what it feels like to be held by someone. The only companions I have had are words on a computer screen, written by individuals I never see. People who do not tell me their real names. I am tired of it.”

  Gibbs said nothing as he contemplated his own self-imposed exile after the death of his sister and parents. “I understand.”

  She glared at him again. “Do you? Do you really understand, or are you just saying it?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I understand. It’s not the same, but I have not allowed myself to get close to anyone since everyone I cared about died.”

  Nodding, she returned to staring at the coffee mug. Finally, after several silent moments she looked at him and asked, “Who were they?”

  Jimmie Gibbs gave the woman a sad smile and just sipped his coffee.

  ***

  Leaving the airport, Kruger drove immediately to his house. Entering the neighborhood, he looked for cars he didn’t recognize parked along the street. When they first moved in, he had committed to memory which cars belonged to which house and who parked on the street. The practice had paid off before. Today he did not see anything unusual as he approached his home, except the Greene County sheriff’s car parked in front of it. A smile appeared for the first time since learning the hacker revealed JR’s name to Dmitri Orlov.

  Joseph had called the local sheriff and requested the car and escort for Kruger and his family. As he pulled into the garage, he saw Stephanie exit the house with Mikey in her arms and Kristin following. Her first words were laced with concern.

  “Sean, what did Joseph mean when he said we needed to stay at his house for a few days?”

  Kruger took Mikey and opened the back-passenger door of Stephanie’s Jeep. As he strapped the toddler into the car seat, he answered.

  “We found the hacker.”

  She looked at him as she situated Kristin in her booster seat. “And why does that mean we have to disrupt our lives for a few days?”

  “For precaution.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Kruger.” It was her way of telling him he needed to be more truthful with her.

  He finished with Mikey and looked over at her. “When I left for Mexico City, I told you there was a possibility JR, Mia and Joey were in danger. It seems that could extend to us as well.”

  “Why?”

  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “I’ll explain as we drive to Joseph’s. I need to talk to the deputy first.”

  She nodded and finished buckling Kristin into her booster seat.

  When Kruger returned and got behind the steering wheel, he backed the Jeep out of the garage and headed up the street. The sheriff’s car followed at a discreet distance. Still searching for cars that did not belong in the neighborhood, he glanced at Stephanie.

  “We found the hacker.”

  “You told me that.”

  “Did I mention that he was a she?”

  Stephanie turned her attention to her husband and shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

  “How many individuals know who JR really is?”

  She frowned. “Not that many. Just you, me, Joseph, Mary and Mia. That’s all I’m aware of.”

  “You forgot a former president who pardoned that individual a few years back.”

  “Yes, I did forget.”

  “As far as we knew, those are the only individuals with knowledge of JR’s birth name. Until we talked to the hacker.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Yeah, she knew exactly who he was, his background, why he was on the run and what happened to Alexi Kozlov.”

  Stephanie was quiet as she stared out the front windshield.

  “Now, because of some reason she won’t discuss, Dmitri Orlov knows. And he knows were JR lives. I will assume he knows we live across from him.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She sold the information to Orlov.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Good question. Hopefully, someone is talking to her right now trying to figure it out.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Joseph’s.”

  Stephanie turned in her seat and stared at her husband. “Did you kidnap her, Sean?”

  “Kinda, but I had help.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Why?”

  “To protect her, mainly. There are too many working pieces to this puzzle and I need more information from her before we start fitting them together.

  “Okay, I’m not angry about spending time at Joseph’s anymore.”

  “I’m not happy about it, but at this point, it’s the only way to keep you and the kids safe until we figure this out.”

  She looked at her husband and just nodded.

  Chapter 19

  Paris, France

  With a cell phone pressed to his ears, Dmitri Orlov listened to the caller. Silence dominated his side of the conversation as he stared out the window behind his desk. His guest sat quietly in front as he watched Orlov.

  Finally, Orlov said, “You found the hacker’s apartment?” More silence. “I see. No clue to where she might have gone?”

  The man listened.

  “Very well. I need you in Dallas, Texas. Let me know when you arrive.”

  Orlov set the cell phone down on his desk and looked at Uri Yanovich. “It appears our hacker is not a man.”

  “Oh?”

  Nodding, Orlov rubbed his chin. “Popov found her apartment. The door was breached and she was gone.”

  “Did he find her laptop?”

  “No, but he found all of her clothes. That was when he discovered he was a she. He found only women’s undergarments and tampons in the bathroom.”

  “Who do you think found her first?”

  “I would be guessing” Orlov shook his head. “But it was someone with military training. She protected her identity and location very closely until just recently. Why, I do not know.”

  “Did Popov question any of the neighbors?”

  “No, I told him to be discreet. We don’t need questions being asked about a Russian taking interest in this person. Besides, everyone in Mexico is reluctant to get involved. Bad for your health.”

  “What are your instructions?”

  “As you heard, I told Popov to fly to Dallas. We need to send a message to Mr. Sandifer. He is not cooperating at the moment.”

  ***

  “You need to leave for the airport now.”

  “Kyle, I cannot just drop everything and leave right now. Besides, Richard doesn’t know I’m coming.”

  “I’ve already called him and explained the reason. He is looking forward to our visit.”

  “Our?”

  “Yes, I will be joining you in a few days.”

  “Why a few days?”

  “I’m going to drive.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “I need to speak to someone on the way.”

  “Just fly to where this someone is and then fly on into Dallas. You don’t need to drive, Kyle.”

  “Yes, I do, Virginia. Please, listen to me. It is very important for you to leave this afternoon. You have a first-class ticket waiting for you at the American Airline ticket counter at Reagan.”

  “When did you plan this trip out, Kyle?”

  “During the noon hour. Virginia, I will explain everything when I get there. Just leave the house and go to Reagan National Airport. Please.”

  “Ever since you sold the firm, you’ve been acting weird. Very well, I’ll pack a few things and leave. When will I see you?”

  “I’ll call you from the road.”

  Having called his wife f
rom a suite at the Pentagon City Ritz-Carlton, Sandifer spent the first twenty-four hours raiding the mini-bar and trying to determine how to get to Dallas without leaving a trail the FBI or the Russian could follow. Only using room service, he spent the next five days sleeping fitfully and planning his escape from Washington, D.C. He determined the route he would take, where he would meet the individual he needed to talk to and what kind of vehicle he would drive. When he was done planning. he took an Ambien, slept for twenty four hours and checked out of his room.

  ***

  “Mr. Sandifer, there is a substantial financial penalty for early termination of the lease on your Mercedes. Especially since it’s an AMG E63S. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “Mr. Bowman, how many years have we been doing business with each other?”

  Jefferey Bowman, the owner of the Mercedes-Benz dealership in Arlington, sighed. Sandifer would only do business with him, nobody else. Today, the lawyer was cashing in on this long-term relationship.

  “You were my first customer, Mr. Sandifer and we’ve been in business for twenty years.”

  “Exactly. And how many times have I asked for any extra consideration?”

  Bowman hesitated. Every time Sandifer dealt with Bowman, he brought up the how-long-have-we-been-doing-business-together line.

  “Only on rare occasions, Mr. Sandifer.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I would appreciate your consideration to terminate my lease early.”

  Taking a deep breath, Bowman nodded slightly. “May I ask why?”

  “My wife and I have decided to retire early and do a little traveling. We will be driving to places where a Mercedes will raise eyebrows and invite curiosity we don’t want.”

  “I see. Are you wanting to buy a car?”

  “That’s my plan.”

  “From me?”

  Sandifer pointed at a black Jeep Grand Cherokee in the used car area. “I want to buy that Jeep.”

  “I believe we can come to an agreement,” Bowman smiled. “Why don’t you join me in my office, Mr. Sandifer?”

  ***

  At eleven minutes after midnight, Kyle Sandifer pulled into the driveway of his home in the Woodmont subdivision of Arlington. He closed the door to the garage before stepping out of his new vehicle. He did not turn on any lights, using only a flashlight to navigate the house he and his wife had occupied for thirty years.