Perched on my office desk, Dell took another sip from his hip flask. I ignored whatever liquor he’d poured into my coffee mug. He smiled again, unnaturally, and I let his words wash over me.
Do this and we won’t send your wife to prison for the rest of her life.
I saw Kennedy tense up. He knew the fate of the last group of hard cases who’d threatened my family, and Kennedy seemed just as surprised as I was.
“Dell, tell him we’re the good guys here,” said Kennedy.
“I’m talking here, Bill,” said Dell, never taking his fake smile from me.
If Kennedy or Dell were expecting a show, I didn’t give it to them. Instead I leaned back in the chair normally reserved for my clients and folded my hands.
“Dell, this is all very interesting, but my wife is as straight as they come. She doesn’t even jaywalk. If you think you have something on her? Fine, go ahead and use it and I’ll see you in court. In fact, she won’t need me. Christine is a far better lawyer than I am. That’s why she works at Harland and Sinton, and I … well, I work here. So, thanks for the offer. The money sounds great, but when it comes with a threat I lose interest. I don’t scare easy, Dell. Don’t forget to replace my dime on the way out,” I said.
The fake smile changed into a real one. At that moment he looked different. Charming. Despite what he said and how he came across, there was an unexpected warmth to the man. He exchanged a look with Kennedy, then bent low and retrieved a green file from a case beside him.
“You think your wife is safe because she’s an attorney at Harland and Sinton?” said Dell. “The irony is that your wife is in this situation because she’s an attorney at Harland and Sinton.”
“What?”
“I brought something for you to see. Actually, you can keep it. I got a copy. So does the federal prosecutor. With the documents in here, we can file thirty-eight RICO charges against your wife and seek a combined total of one hundred and fifteen years’ incarceration. Take a look for yourself.”
The file contained three pages. None of them made much sense to me. The first was what looked like a share purchase agreement for a company I’d never heard of. Christine’s signature appeared as a witness to the agreement and sat beside that of the client, the share purchaser.
“I don’t understand this,” I said.
“Let me make it real simple. Your wife signed this document on her first day of employment at Harland and Sinton, attorneys-at-law. Every attorney at Harland and Sinton gets the same treatment their first day. You know what it’s like on your first day in a new office; you spend half the time trying to remember everyone’s name, where you’re supposed to sit, where your files are, and trying to memorize all the damn new computer passwords you’ve just been handed. Around four thirty on your first day in Harland and Sinton, one of the senior partners will call you to his office. He’s just completed a share transfer agreement for a client. Due diligence has been done already, but he’s been called to an emergency meeting and the client has just arrived. The senior partner wants you to witness the document for him. All you have to do is watch the client sign the damn piece of paper and put your name beside it. That’s all. Happens all the time. In fact, all two hundred and twenty-three lawyers in there had the very same experience on their first day. But be under no illusions, Mr. Flynn. In signing this document, your wife unwittingly became part of one of the largest financial frauds in American history.”
“Harland and Sinton? Fraud? Pal, you’re badly mistaken. They’re one of the oldest and most respected firms in the city. No way are they up to anything illegal. Why would they? They’ve got more money than they know what to do with.”
“Oh, they’ve got money, all right. Dirty money.”
“You’ve got proof?”
“Some, like the documents you just read. We don’t have it all. Not yet. That’s where you come in. See, Harland and Associates had its financial ups and downs over the years, but that all changed in 1995 when Gerry Sinton came on board. The newly formed Harland and Sinton scaled down its client list to less than fifty and focused the practice on securities, tax, bonds, wealth management, and estates. Their profits went through the roof. Prior to Sinton coming on board, the firm was clean—and it’s still got the best reputation. It’s the perfect setup for their little operation.”
“What operation?”
Dell paused, looked at the untouched alcohol in front of me, turned to Kennedy, and said, “Get us some coffee, Bill, please.”
Kennedy went in back and tried to bang some life into my old coffee machine.
“Harland and Sinton is a front. They practice a little law, but really they’re running the largest money-laundering scheme ever conducted on US soil. The firm acts for companies that don’t really exist, except on paper. They get their legitimate clients to buy shares in the companies, and those clients make a guaranteed return of around twenty percent on their investment. What those clients are doing, without knowing it, is handing over clean money, and the dirty money flows back through the dummy company accounts, cleaning it through the books, to pay the investors. The dirty money comes from drug cartels, terrorists, you name it. And your wife countersigned a document deeply implicating her in this fraud.”
“No way.”
I looked at the documents again. If what Dell said was correct, Christine was in the worst kind of trouble. The fact that she knew nothing about it didn’t matter a damn. It’s a strict liability offense—if you touched the deal in any way and you didn’t perform due diligence, you went down. The fact that you handled the transaction is enough for conviction regardless of your intentions.
“How do you know all of this?”
“Because I spoke to a guy who nursed some of the transactions through the banks. He told me the whole setup. He was going to blow the operation wide open.”
“Then why do you need me?”
“Honest answer? Because the witness is dead. Your wife’s boss, Gerry Sinton, had him murdered.”