As we sped through Manhattan in the back of a black SUV, I went through every piece of evidence in my head, every play made by Gerry Sinton, and everything I’d been told in the last forty-eight hours. David was chewing on his lip, at once angry and scared. I found it hard to look away from him. Over and over, a single thought rang loudly in my head.
I’ve been conned.
To a former confidence man, that thought was a source of some considerable shame. Even though it was evil, even though people had died, I still could not help but marvel at the sheer ingenuity of it. It was possibly the greatest con I’d ever come across.
And it had been played on me.
The SUV slowed and bobbed around the traffic lanes. The Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations were gearing up for the evening. Hundreds of people in green and white littered the sidewalk. Irish souvenir stalls, hot dog carts, and coffee stands fought their way along the line of parade-goers, vying for any last-minute trade. The parade had passed a half hour ago. It would take us at least that long to get to the Lightner Building in this traffic. NYPD were reopening the roads, and the SUV sped up. The city was readying itself for Skyfest, the Saint Patrick’s Day fireworks display that started in Dublin, then moved from city to city. Paris had it last year, and New York wanted to put its own stamp on the tradition.
I sat beside David in the eight-seater SUV. He looked numb, shaking his head, muttering to himself. I told him to keep quiet. The treasury agents sat in the additional seats behind us. Kennedy had taken a seat in the front, beside Dell, who was driving.
“This is a mess,” said Dell.
“Your operation is way out of control,” said Kennedy. “I’m here to make sure you don’t harm any civilians on this crazy mission of yours.”
Dell shot him a look and said, “You can bet I’ll be talking to your superior officer after what you pulled. You’re supposed to be my number two on this task force. You’re supposed to be focusing on the firm, not the Child case.”
“Where are we going?” I asked for the third time. I’d insisted on accompanying David to processing, but I knew there was no way he would be brought to a precinct or the FBI premises. I knew where we were headed—I just wanted confirmation.
Dell provided it after the fifth time I asked.
“That algo trace your client gave us enabled our tech to follow the money, just like you said. But fourteen minutes ago it crashed. Just before it died, it reported that all of the funds—almost eight billion—did not make it into Ben Harland’s account as planned. Instead it transferred into a Harland and Sinton client account. The name on the client account is ‘David Child.’ Forty-three seconds after it hit the account, the money disappeared. We’re going to Harland and Sinton now, to meet the rest of the team who have already made the arrests. Your client is going to log onto their accounts system, and he’s gonna tell us where he’s hidden the money.”
“I didn’t take the goddamn money,” screamed David. He was on the brink of another panic attack. I spoke to him softly and gripped his arm hard. The pain brought him down, made him focus.
I whispered to him, “David, tell me you didn’t do this.”
He looked like he was drowning. His eyes glazed over, and he simply shook his head.
Was this the face of a man falsely accused for the second time? Or the face of a man who’d stolen the world? I couldn’t tell. I’d allowed myself to get too close.
I trusted my gut. I’d backed David. I was pretty sure he wasn’t a killer. Would he steal eight billion dollars? I had no clue. I was with him as his counsel, and we were on our way to the building where Christine was being held. Right then all I cared about was getting my wife out of there.
“Let this play out,” I said.
He put his head in his hands, and I knew I would get nothing more out of David.
I typed out a text to the Lizard.
I’m on my way. Do nothing until I give the ok.
“You’re the only person with access to that algo, Child. You altered the code last night when you logged into Harland and Sinton’s database and traced the algo—that means either you stole the money or, at the very least, you know where it is. And we’re not leaving that building until you show us exactly what you did and how we trace the cash,” said Dell.
I looked at David and he leaned back, wiped his hands on his pants, and puffed out two whimpering breaths.
It took an hour to get to the offices of Harland and Sinton. In the distance, the final traces of daylight were disappearing behind the Chrysler Building as we stepped out of the car. There was no one waiting for us outside the Lightner Building. Nobody in reception, not a soul standing by the elevator.
“They’re supposed to have this place locked down,” said Dell, taking a cell phone from his pocket. As we waited for the elevator, I thought I caught a familiar smell.
Stale cigarettes.
The elevator opened and the treasury agents fanned out of the doors. Through the glass partition I could see Christine sitting in the conference room with two men. Dell led the way into the large conference room, dominated by the center table.
Ferrar and Weinstein sat at the conference table drinking coffee. Beside them, Christine, hands cuffed to the front. I ran to her, but Ferrar stood in my way.
“You can’t approach her. She’s in federal custody,” said Ferrar.
“If you don’t move, you’ll be in the state hospital,” I said.
A hand on my shoulder, Kennedy.
“Eddie, calm down. This isn’t helping,” said Christine. Dirty tear tracks on her face. She looked tired, beaten, resigned to going to jail because of the firm. I shrugged off Kennedy’s hand and made for Christine. Ferrar moved for his weapon but stopped, realized his dominant arm still hurt like hell, and he switched hands to grab for his piece with his left. I pushed past him and embraced Christine.
“Let him go, Ferrar,” said Kennedy.
She placed her hands on my stomach and I took her in my arms. I could feel her trembling. I kissed her head and her mouth and held her close, tight. I whispered, “When you get out of here, you keep going and do not come back, no matter what happens. Amy’s okay. She’s with Carmel.”
She said nothing, but I felt her legs shift and give way. I held her tight. Her worry for Amy was all that had kept her going. Now that she knew our daughter was safe, her body was ready to give up.
Dell addressed Ferrar and Weinstein. “You two, where’s Schaffler? He’s supposed to be downstairs covering the entrance.”
“Damned if I know,” said Weinstein.
“Associates cleared out?” asked Dell.
“Every single one. Gerry Sinton is in the office next door. Agent Patton led the raid. He made the arrest. Apart from that, the whole building is clear,” said Weinstein.
“Good. We’ll need Sinton.”
Weinstein buzzed Agent Patton on the radio, told him to bring Gerry Sinton to the conference room.
Dell dragged David forward by his handcuffs and pushed him into a chair at the end of the slate conference table. An open laptop sat on the table, and Dell snatched it, placed it in front of David, and instructed Dominguez to take off the cuffs.
“Find me the money,” said Dell.
From his jacket pocket, Dell produced a pen drive and slotted it into the laptop.
“This is your program, the trace for the algo. This is your only chance. This can go easy or hard. I’m going to ask one time only—tell me where you sent the money.”
I put my back to the window of the conference room, and for a second Kennedy’s eyes met mine. Christine pulled herself closer to me.
“I didn’t take the money. It’s supposed to land in a new account in Ben Harland’s name—that was the trace result. I checked it myself. If somebody altered the final account destination, it wasn’t me. Here, let me show you. I’ll pull up the trace.”
His fingers worked fast on the soft keys. No one spoke. The only sound I heard was Christine, her chest fluttering like a startled bird as she breathed.
“What the hell is this?” said David. Kennedy leaned over David’s shoulder.
“Oh my God, it’s a virus,” said David. “It’s eating the data. It’s burning everything—here and at the bank. I’m locked out. I can’t do a single thing,” he said.
“You put a virus through the system?” said Dell.
David’s mouth was open, hands wide. Shivering now, afraid. He swiveled the screen around. It was fuzzy and frozen—the images distorted.
Pulling the drive from the laptop, David held it in front of Dell and said, “The virus came from this drive. It uploaded as soon as I opened it.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been playing us the whole way,” said Dell, snatching the pen drive from David. “This is evidence. That was your last chance. You’re done, Child.”
David stood, anger pulling him upright.
“I’ve done nothing.”
“Goddamn it!” said Dell, slamming closed the lid of the laptop. “Kennedy, Ferrar, Weinstein, take Christine White and Child into custody. Charge them both. The full spectrum of charges for White—laundering, racketeering, the whole damn cake. Book Child for grand larceny and whatever RICO charges you can think of. Either he’s hiding the money for Gerry Sinton or he’s stolen it for himself. Either way he’ll talk at the federal lockup. Take them. Eddie, you stay here. I need to know what David told you about the algo. I’m not sure you haven’t been playing a con the whole damn time. If I find out you knew something about it, you’ll be sharing a cell with your client.”
“Go,” I said to Christine. “I’ll find you and I’ll get you out.”
“This is all wrong,” said Kennedy. But Dell didn’t listen. Reluctantly, Kennedy, Ferrar, and Weinstein led Christine and David to the elevator, David protesting his innocence. I was thankful for Kennedy as he led Christine gently into the elevator. She lowered her head and shook it, wiping away fresh tears, unable to let anyone see her like this. I saw the muscles in Kennedy’s jaw working overtime. His gaze fixed on David. The elevator doors opened and swallowed them up.