BACK AT THE SAFE HOUSE, Daniel, Touesnard, and MacKinnon scoured the web on their separate laptops to assemble a biography of Forrestal under his earlier name. After four hours and six coffees among them, Daniel sat back. “Have we got enough to put a picture together?”
MacKinnon bobbed his head while reading from his notes. “Forrestal used to be called Robert Haynes and developed real estate in Edmonton in the ’80s, during the oil boom. He built strip malls and apartments. It seems he was married to a Sharon Mills —”
“The password on his iPhone,” Daniel and Touesnard said simultaneously.
MacKinnon continued. “And he had one child, a boy. In ’89, one of his buildings caught fire. The headline in the Edmonton Journal mentioned construction shortcuts and sub-standard building material. Tragically, a family was killed.”
Touesnard continued, accelerating the pace as if they were speeding toward some important milestone. “Then Haynes went dark. He had millions stashed away in this Cayman Island account by that time. No trace of him for two years until he withdrew money from Belize. Then a few scattered withdrawals to accounts in Eastern Europe, this time under the name Forrestal.”
“After the Berlin Wall fell. They were boom years for reconstruction. He’s quite shrewd,” added Daniel.
MacKinnon said, “So, let’s see if I understand. Mr. Forrestal runs an offshore business in the Caymans, out of the reach of the Canadian and U.S. authorities. He runs this with Professor Fanshawe, who joined in 2002. Two days ago, the account paid out the ten thousand dollars meant to be given to you.” He motioned to Daniel, who grunted in reply. “It also issued money transfers to three other people in the last month. Dave, any leads?”
Touesnard continued as he read from his screen. “One was for three million paid to another offshore account. Ms. Lu just sent us the owner information. It’s owned by a Calgary lawyer named Evans.”
“Alberta comes up again,” said Daniel.
“Another was to a second account, this one in Bermuda, generic name, Express Wilderness Inc., withdrawn at a Canadian bank in Alberta. Airdrie branch.”
“How much?” MacKinnon rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache.
“A million and change.”
“Any idea what for?”
Touesnard and Daniel shook their heads.
MacKinnon said, “What about the third money transfer?”
“This one was given in two pieces. Ten thousand, three weeks ago. And another five on Tuesday. Same destination. A company called Professional Solutions Inc. based in Mustique, an island in the Caribbean.”
“Wait. I have a website for Professional Solutions,” Daniel said, typing on his computer. A website came up. He swung the computer around so MacKinnon and Touesnard could see. “It’s cute. They talk about contract disputes and professional conflict resolution. But it’s a euphemism, just a polite way to say professional killers. Lloyd Fanshawe paid for an assassin.”
The two officers eyed Daniel. Touesnard said it first. “How do you know that?”
Daniel cleared his throat. “Because I used to have to deal with them. Not this particular company, but others like them.”
“As a professor in a Halifax business school?” MacKinnon choked on his words.
“Before that. When I was in China. I told you I negotiated complex business deals between Canadian and Chinese manufacturers. Sometimes one side would resort to extreme ways to up the pressure on the other. Sometimes that included violence.”
“You’re joking.”
“I had to deal with them a couple of times.”
“And how exactly did you ‘deal’ with them?”
“Professionally.”
“You’re being evasive again, professor.”
“They threatened me and my partner.” Daniel hesitated to recall the images of that final assignment. Mr. Wang’s car, a Bentley, malevolent black to hide in the night, narrowly missed ramming into him and Xiao Ping walking on a sidewalk in Kowloon. The car screeched to a halt a few metres ahead, and Mr. Wang’s driver burst out from the right-side door, waving a pistol in one hand, ready to finish the job. He only took four steps before Daniel put two rounds from his Glock into the man’s chest. His mind fast-forwarded to the final scene, with a surprised Mr. Wang sweating and standing still at the far end of the same pistol held firmly by Daniel. “I had the training. I knew what to do. I removed them from the picture.”
The officers’ mouths were agape.
MacKinnon snatched his phone and dialed. “I have to tell the command team about the money trail.”