THURSDAY 1:45 P.M.

Duncan tapped his screen. “We need the big display to go over the research I’ve collected.”

In my office, we set our computers so that we were both looking at the same screen and could work our mice to go to separate places on the screen. We were both keyed into the extra-large monitor that emerged from a narrow slot on top of my desk.

Duncan said, “I figure they didn’t just come into existence out of thin air.”

“Likely.”

“I checked Vincek out on various social media sites, and came up with nothing. Or at least, mostly useless gibberish. Nothing that gave me a lot of solid facts about him or his Robin Hood group.”

“I suppose if, as they claim, they’re working behind the scenes, by the nature of the group, they wouldn’t be doing Twitter posts or Instagram messaging.”

Duncan shrugged. “As far as I can tell, Jamie Vincek is a myth.”

“He must come from somewhere.”

Duncan said, “I followed several leads. One thread of information claimed he grew up, or someone named Jamie Vincek grew up, in a wealthy section of Schaumburg and didn’t leave his parents’ basement until he was twenty-three.”

“Oh.”

“His social security is paid with a return address that is a post office box. The return address has changed numerous times in the past six years, presumably when he left his parents’ basement.”

“So he’s twenty-eight or twenty-nine.”

“If it’s him. There are also possible threads that he’s a scion of a minor branch of British royalty and/or the Rothschilds, couple others more esoteric.”

“He set them all up to divert everyone. No one could threaten a family member. They’re all fake.”

Duncan continued, “Quite possible. From the mug he used while he was in the office, I got some fingerprints.”

I leaned forward.

“He was originally from Oxnard, California, but moved from there to attend college at MIT ten years ago. The Illinois driver’s license appears to be real, but the address is a vacant lot. Also, I can find no gay group of Robin Hoods anywhere on the Net under any name. I tried following the bank deposit he made to us back through his bank. His accounts are as well-protected as ours. It’s a bank in the Cayman Islands. The money is really in our account and is legitimately there.”

“A step in the right direction.”

“Where is he?”

“He was in the hotel room this morning.”

“He and his buddies can’t get out of the city. According to the Internet travel sites, all the hotels from South Bend to Kenosha are booked solid. I’ll keep looking, but if they’re under fake names or paid cash, I’m unlikely to find them.”

“They’re probably all fake names.”

“Who the hell are these guys?” Duncan asked.

I shrugged.

Duncan said, “Okay. Next.” He used his mouse to highlight several paragraphs of information and a chart of data. He began, “That block west of the United Center is owned by half a dozen different organizations that lead back to out of state and overseas accounts. I’ve run up against several shell corporations and dummy corporations, and fake this and that, plus tax dodges.”

“The gangs don’t own it?”

“They might. Or drug cartels in any number of Latin American countries. Or European billionaires. Or the Chinese.” He shrugged again. “Or Vincek could own it. Or, well, it’s a mess. It’s going to take hours more work, and even then, I’m not sure we’ll have a final answer.”

“Maybe those guys are really as good as they claim to be.”

“I don’t know if I’m as good as they are. I can just be persistent.”

“I’ll take your persistence and your expertise over anybody else’s.”

He called up the articles on the trial in New York. He said, “I can give you a summary. I’ve emailed you the entire file, past articles on the case, any cross references. You can read it on your phone.” He tapped the screen. “Or here, and I printed it out.” He handed me a folder. I like to have electronic and print records.

“You should look through all of them in case I missed something.”

Duncan rarely missed anything.

“Our client has been charged with nothing.”

“Then why put his name in the paper?”

“You can try asking the reporter.”

He clicked on another file. It was a list of names, phone numbers, and/or email addresses. He said, “Those are the people in the office for the United States Eastern District of New York who worked on the case, the NYPD detective who led their task force, the reporter, and other relevant names.”

“I’ll have to call them.” I scratched my chin. “If his name is in the Times, he or his group can’t be as secretive as he claims it is.”

“Or everything but this bit is secretive. I tried working on it from another angle. How do you live off the grid? You said he claimed they had havens worldwide. Say you buy an island. I found no record of Vincek making such a purchase. Nor have I been able to figure out how they made their money.”

“They were ripping people off from the beginning?”

“They had to get the money from somewhere.”

I thought for a minute. “When we’re done here, we can maybe both spend time looking for large unsolved thefts.”

“If they got away with it, or they were ripping off awful people maybe they weren’t reported.”

I mulled that over. “Or right wing organizations that reported financial trouble, or had to fold suddenly.”

He nodded. “If we can figure this out, government agents, foreign spies, domestic terrorists could figure all this out. Or like you said, if they used their real names, their families could have been threatened.”

“Maybe they just don’t care.”

“If someone threatens to kill your mom, you don’t care? Maybe you could find one person like that in a group, but all of them?”

“Maybe they’re all nuts.”

“Could be.”

“Or it’s all fake, deliberately so.” I pointed at the data on the monitor, “And all this is bullshit. All of it designed for these very moments.” I shook my head then had a thought, “What about taxes?”

“It’s tougher these days to break into that network. I’ll have to keep trying.” He stood up and pointed around the office. “I had the place swept for bugs first thing when I got in.” We keep equipment for doing such on the top shelf of the closet in the back room. “The rooms are secure. Our equipment says no one is listening from outside. Nor has anyone bugged our phones or Internet connection. At least as far as I can tell.”

“That’s the best we can do.”