I didn’t notice any watchers as I made my way to the exit and crossed the street from the courthouse. A black SUV waited outside a twenty-four-hour dry cleaner called Jack’s. I tossed a few bucks across a news vendor’s hand and picked up a copy of The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. I checked the street again. No tail.
The rear passenger door opened.
“How’s it going?” said Dell as I got in beside him. I dumped my case files on the leather seat, with my newspapers on top, and closed the door.
“There’s been an attempt on David’s life. A Mexican guy with a long braid of hair down his back tried to stab him in the cage, and my client intervened; Popo might not make it. Child’s okay, though. It might help us in the long run, and believe me, we’re going to need all the help we can get. Gerry Sinton managed to get himself appointed as co-counsel.”
Dell made a circular motion with his left hand, and the SUV pulled into traffic. He kept his focus on the cars and pedestrians, checking that we weren’t being followed. The driver had a buzz cut, and I could see the fingers of his left hand taped together. He made a point of turning around and scowling at me when we hit a stoplight.
“You’ve already met Agent Weinstein,” said Dell.
“How’s the finger?” I said.
The slim man smiled at me, flipped me the bird with his right hand, and then swung around. His boss continued to check our tail for another half a block, then leveled his gaze at me.
“Co-counsel? How could you let that happen?” said Dell. I detected a little heat in his voice.
“Your men were supposed to hold him at the accident scene. He got here early.”
“The firm’s security team were shadowing Sinton. Harland and Sinton employ a six-man squad of ex-marines. They look after the lawyers and the documents, but we really think they’re enforcers and guard dogs for the money. Guy named Gill heads up the team. He’s a former marine and ex-NYPD—smart and ruthless. The firm’s security intervened. My guess is one of them called Gill. He probably pulled in a few favors, because the cops holding Sinton got a radio call and Gerry got released immediately after that call. The officer on scene told me he got orders from his lieutenant to let him go. If he’d held Sinton for much longer, somebody would’ve guessed the cops had a motive. Where’s Sinton now?”
“We both thought Child had been stabbed. He’s on his way to the ER. I figure we have a half hour or so before he realizes Child is still at the courthouse.”
“You sure this prisoner targeted Child?”
“That’s what I heard. Looks like the firm tried to take him out.”
From a manila folder on his lap, Dell retrieved a black-and-white photograph. He was careful not to open the folder too wide in case I saw the contents, but I saw enough to know that the file contained a thick bundle of papers on Harland and Sinton. The photo was a close-up on a guy about my age, maybe a little closer to forty, with a muscular build and light, sandy hair. His jaw looked like it could crack a baseball bat. This wasn’t the same guy in the black coat and gray sweater who’d stared at me in the hall outside court twelve.
“This is Gill. Watch out for him. He’s dangerous. The firm will kill to protect their operation, and Gill is the trigger man. I’d say he set up the attempted stabbing in the holding pen. We need you to get Sinton out of the picture. You can’t put the pressure on Child with Sinton standing on your throat. How are you going to get rid of him?”
“For the moment, he stays. I’ll need him. Truth is, Dell, I’m not convinced Child is guilty. There has to be another way. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Oh, he’s innocent, is he? How do you figure?”
“I just know. Kid doesn’t have it in him. I can tell.”
“Why don’t you try explaining that to your wife after she gets eighty-five years for money laundering and racketeering? Don’t be fooled by that kid. He’s made himself a billionaire and he did it ruthlessly, so remember that.”
“Hold on. You just want the intel, right? Accounts, banks, contracts, evidence tying it all to Ben Harland and Gerry Sinton. I know exactly what you need for a successful prosecution, but you won’t get any of that from Child. This guy doesn’t need the skim from a dirty money wash. He’s not involved. He’s not the type. He doesn’t know anything, Dell. He’s a mark, that’s it. He’s just as much a victim as the other rich idiots pouring money into Harland and Sinton. I can get you the evidence you need, but I have to do it my way.”
“This guy has really suckered you, Eddie. I thought you knew what you were doing; I thought we had a deal. The evidence, the money, and the testimony in exchange for your wife’s freedom. Not much to ask.”
“That was before I met Child. He’s so young, and he’s falling apart. I love my wife, but I won’t sacrifice a life for her. Not if there’s another way. I’ll make sure you get what you need and you’ll leave Christine alone. But I need to know how Child is linked to the firm and what he’s got on them. You need to tell me.”
I handed him back the photograph, which he carefully replaced in the folder before tossing it onto the seat between us. He sighed and leaned forward. Running his hands over his face, he muttered something, then spoke clearly.
“We had a deal. We had a plan. I don’t like people who break their word, Eddie. And I don’t like low-life ex–con artists telling me what to do. I don’t like it one little bit,” he said.
Dell’s head came back to rest on the seat upright. Sliding his fingers beneath his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes. His movement was slow, deliberate, like he was fighting off the sleep that had been denied him since Child was arrested twenty-four hours before. I saw a twitch from his left eye and smelled the sweat on his forehead. The lines around his eyes were deep now.
“We stick to our original plan. The evidence against Child is more than enough to convict him of murdering his girlfriend. You know why? Because he murdered her, Eddie. You tell him you have a way out. Tell him you can save his life. Tell him you can cut him a deal. We need him to come clean about the firm. Five years is a walk in the park. It’s a sweet deal for murder one. If he refuses, he goes down for life.”
“No. Either I walk away, or you tell me what David has on the firm.”
“It’s too risky. We have to do this my way. Child has a problem. You’re going to offer the solution. There’s no other way he would part with this information.”
“I can get it,” I said.
Dell studied me, weighing his options, deciding if I could deliver. I checked the rearview. The closest car to the SUV was a good thirty feet away, and I guessed we were doing around twenty miles an hour. I knew what Dell’s answer would be, and I already knew my next move.
“No,” said Dell.
“Then it’s over,” I said, as I reached in between the front seats and pulled the parking brake. The whole vehicle pitched forward as the tires locked up. The driver’s head disappeared into his chest as his seat belt held firm.
My right shoulder was already jammed against the front passenger seat, braced for the momentum. Dell’s face went into the driver’s seat, the files slid to the floor, and the car behind us fired his horn and managed to stop before he hit the rear of our car.
I gathered up my files and newspapers, opened the door, and said, “I’m out. You’re on your own.”
The driver, Weinstein, was already mouthing off—calling me crazy.
A hand on my shoulder. I anticipated it would be a forceful grab, pulling me back into the vehicle. It wasn’t. The grip was one of resignation, and a final plea for help.
“All right,” said Dell.
Closing the door, I stared straight ahead, files sitting on my lap, waiting for the info, not looking Dell in the eye. The horns from the traffic behind us ceased as the SUV took off at a slow pace.
“Don’t try that again,” said Weinstein.
With a sigh, Dell laid it out.
“What David Child has is not illegal. In fact, it’s perfectly legal. The biggest risk to a laundry is personnel in the chain. Well, David Child gave the firm the solution that allowed them to cut down that risk. Instead of the money passing through lots of hands, it now passes though accounts at the click of a button.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He designed a digital security system for the firm. This practice has serious money floating around its client accounts, it needs an airtight security system to protect it from hackers. So David designed an algorithm. One that’s based on the same principles as Reeler: a combination of random and targeted sequences. Basically, David installed an IT security system at Harland and Sinton—which is totally legit, but used in a different way, it becomes the safest and the best method of laundering money ever designed.”
“But it wasn’t designed to wash the money?”
“You got it. Let’s say the system David installed detects a hacker threat. If it’s serious enough, then the program throws all of the money from the firm’s business and client accounts into the ether. Millions and millions of dollars that normally sit in hundreds of the firm’s client accounts start to move. The algo splits the money into smaller sums, no bigger than ten thousand dollars, and sends them on a random digital journey through hundreds of accounts—to protect them from the hacker. Once it’s gone it cannot be traced, but seventy-two hours later the money returns to a single, high-security account. Of course, by the time the money has gotten there, it’s totally clean. The firm can test the system as often as they like—to make sure it’s operational. Because the money breaks down into sums lower than ten grand, the Bank Secrecy Act won’t kick in and the sums are allowed to move without due diligence or anti-money-laundering checks. That’s what money laundering is all about; it’s like buying a passport for each dollar. There are three basic stages to washing money—introduction, layering, and integration. The phony share transaction introduces the money into the system; when Harland and Sinton trigger the algo, the movement of the money from legit account to legit account adds layers of provenance, and seventy-two hours later all of the money, dirty and legit, settles into one account.”
I had to admire the system; it was beautiful. The firm can treat millions at the touch of a button—in pretending to test their security system, they trigger David’s algorithm and the money randomly spins through a wash cycle. Perfect.
“Because the security system is legit, you can’t get a warrant, and with the money spinning, you can’t trace it. I’m guessing the algo leads to the partners?”
Nodding his head, Dell suppressed a laugh.
“Yes, we believe this is how the partners get paid—they skim some of the money when it lands in the high-security account. The final account that collects all of the money is always in Ben Harland’s name. We know that much. But we don’t know the account number or which bank. The firm has thousands of dormant accounts in a handful of banks. The money lands in a different one each time the algo reaches the end of its cycle. It would take an army of techs to find even a small percentage of it, and we would have to know the precise time that it hit the account. We don’t even know what bank it’s headed for. When the algo runs its course, it sends an e-mail to the partners giving them the new account information. By that time, the money is clean and the partners take their percentage off the top before they pay the investors. We guess the laundry flows once every few months—and our best guess is the partners take around five million for themselves each time. But the key here is recovery. Think about it: Every single one of the big financial-fraud busts in the last few years have one thing in common—the money was never recovered. With the algorithm we can get the money and the partners.”
I thought it through, everything Dell had told me.
“You told me yesterday Farooq said the firm was getting rid of their middlemen, so the whole operation is digital now?”
“Pretty much. It’s safer. We guessed if they didn’t need middlemen they’d probably gone digital. At the same time the firm was cutting loose their money mules, Child became a client and designed their security system, so we started looking into it. It didn’t take our techs long to figure out how it works, but it’s too damn complex to track. That’s why we need Child. Our whole team of techs in Langley can monitor around one hundred accounts. There are thousands. But we learned that the money disappears from those accounts and then comes back seventy-two hours later. Our surveillance isn’t exactly legal—we need somebody we can put on the stand. We need Child. Our techs believe Gerry triggered the algo yesterday and the money is spinning through the air right now.”
“That’s why you wanted Child to make a quick deal. You need access to the system to trace the dirty money to the partners, but you also need to be waiting at the bank to grab the money after its last wash.”
“You got it. The fact that Sinton triggered the algo after Child’s arrest makes me nervous. I figure he’s cleaning it, and when it lands, Sinton and Harland lift the clean money and disappear. But they don’t want to do that. If they can take out David before he spills his guts about the algo, they won’t have to run. We got lucky—we need to capitalize on this. If we can trace the path of the money through the laundry, we can take it all and put the partners in jail. I want Harland and Sinton—they murdered one of my people, Eddie. I heard her calling my name while she burned in that car. I need this.”
“Your analyst, Sophie. Kennedy said that you two were a thing. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I meant it. Didn’t stop Dell from searching my face for any hint of insincerity. Satisfied, he said, “Thank you. She was too young. It should’ve been me in that convoy. I know I push hard, but I’m not a bad guy. I just want the firm.”
“So what exactly do you need from David Child?”
“He wrote the algo. He must have a way of tracing how it moves the money and where it will end up. He must have a way of monitoring the money while the algo moves it. I want the route the money takes from the first dollar deposited with the firm until the payoff to the partners. He tells us where the money will land and how the cash filters to Harland and Sinton. That gives us the evidence to indict Gerry Sinton and Ben Harland and it ensures we can secure all of the firm’s cash.”
I let this sink in, searching through Dell’s account looking for any inconsistencies. I found only one.
“Say I believe you. It sounds more like the truth. But if you found out that Child can manipulate the algo and you’ll cut him a deal in exchange, then what the hell do you need me for? Why not go see him for yourself and make the deal? Why involve me?”
“Soon as we got the drop on David’s IT system, we planned to do exactly that. Until our friends at the Bureau gave us David’s psyche evaluation. The kid has a history of deep-seated authority issues—he was a hacker for many years, and he hates and distrusts the government. He’s borderline paranoid, and he suffers from some kind of adjustment disorder. If we approached him directly, he wouldn’t trust us. But that doesn’t matter; we couldn’t legitimately get to him without his lawyer finding out. Plus there’s the little matter of his dead girlfriend. We can’t cut him a deal without him having a lawyer. We needed Child to have an ally, somebody to trust, and we had to separate him from the firm. Made sense to bring in a new lawyer for him, who would be sympathetic and motivated to convince Child to plead guilty and make a deal. You’ve been on our radar since your wife took the job at the firm. We know everything about those lawyers, every possible angle of exploitation. And when the opportunity arose, we thought we’d use it. You were perfect for the job.”
This was standard CIA fare, using people, manipulating lives to further their own needs. I’d played this game myself.
“I’m not that perfect. I won’t beat Child into a false confession.”
“I know you can get a good read on someone, but you can never be sure, Eddie. David Child is highly intelligent—and all the evidence says that he’s a killer. You willing to let a murderer walk? I saw the photographs. I know what he did to that girl. As much as I want the firm, I can’t let a guy like that just walk away.”
A cold, dull pain lit up my right hand. An old injury. Bad memories came flooding back.
“Dell, if I thought he was guilty, I’d help you nail him. I have to trust my instinct on this. I’ll get you your evidence another way. When I get it, you let Christine slide on an immunity agreement,” I said.
He rubbed his chain and said, “How will you get it?”
“Leave that to me.”
We pulled over, a half mile from the courthouse.
“You can walk from here. Take care. I told you these men are dangerous. Now you know just how dangerous. Do yourself a favor and take the easy route—get me my plea and I’ll make sure Christine is safe. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t have Christine indicted if you cross me. Sometime tomorrow night the firm’s money lands in a secured account—all of it. I need the information before that so we can be waiting. If we don’t have the trace on the algo by then, it’s too late. Sinton can lift the cash and disappear if he feels the need,” said Dell.
I tucked my case files under my arm, opened the door, and climbed out of the SUV onto the pavement. Dell flicked open his cell phone and turned his attention to the screen. I closed the door and the SUV sped off.
My wife or my client. Twenty-nine hours until the money lands. Twenty-nine hours to get Christine clear—if I gave up Child.
It had seemed an easy decision the night before. But I couldn’t shake that feeling that I was on the wrong side of this, that David needed someone to defend him, not help him into prison.
Not that long ago I’d represented a man whom I knew to be guilty. I played it out and got him off. And regretted it every day since. I’d lost too much down that road.
I could no more send an innocent man to prison than I could let a guilty one go free. The system that allowed a defendant to buy a hotshot lawyer to get him off was the same system that pitted seasoned prosecutors with unlimited resources against public defenders who couldn’t buy their clients a bus ticket to get them to court.
The system was wrong. It allowed the players to rule. I was a player, and whatever else I did, whatever I scammed on the side to keep my practice going, I wouldn’t let the system fail for the wrong reasons.
Somehow I had to get both Christine and David clear, and right then, no matter what way I played it out in my mind, I knew if I tried to save them both I would probably end up losing at least one of them. I had to get David to trust me. I had to make a deal.
A half smile turned up the corner of my mouth as I wondered if the copy of The New York Times that I’d substituted for the contents of the manila folder would fool Dell if he glanced at the cover. I needed only a few minutes with the stolen documents.
A half a block away, I saw a FedEx office.