The clock on my computer read 11:30. I closed the file I’d been working on, and walked down to the lunch room where I poured a cup of black coffee, then brought it back to my desk. I remembered my cell was still off. When I turned it on, the screen read “voicemail waiting.” Nate’s message was short and sweet. “Call me the minute you get this.”
I keyed in his number. “What’s up?”
“This thing is getting ready to blow up, that’s what. Separate teams hit four of the key warehouses at 8:30 this morning and I just got the last of their reports.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention. What did they find?”
“First of all the number of boxes didn’t come anywhere close to the amount shown on the bills of lading, but that’s minor. If this was a normal situation, that would just mean they’d been requisitioned. What’s more important is that all of the investigators picked up something subtle in the warehouses. Instead of a tight grouping by manufacturer, which is the way stock is usually arranged, these cartons were actually spread in a flat line against a back wall off in a remote area of each building,.”
“Why do you suppose they did that?”
“Because, that way the suspicious cartons were completely covered up by those of other manufacturers. The investigators had to insist the warehouse managers find the ones they were looking for. Each one had markings that looked slightly different than the regular FACR stamping. Even with pass-throughs, it’s a requirement that everything is shipped bearing the official FACR logo. That way it isn’t apparent the merchandise wasn’t made in a prison.”
“No wonder they hid them behind other stock. I’m surprised they goofed on that detail. It seems everything else was so carefully orchestrated.”
“Well, Kimberly, that’s not really the smoking gun, so to speak. The stampings weren’t different enough to grab anyone’s attention unless they were looking for something like we were. Because of the way they were strung out, the guys decided to open a few. That’s when we saw how ingenious this scam really is.”
Nathan’s voice had taken on an almost amused tone, so I asked, “What did they find? Old junky beat up furniture or something?”
“Close. They found packing debris plus scrap metal and wood for weight, but not one stick of furniture. At first they thought there had to be a mistake, so they opened every carton in the group at all four warehouses. Nothing but junk. If it hadn’t been for you three, no one would have been the wiser. My guess is they would have gotten away with it.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or let loose with a triumphant shout. What a scam and we were the ones who discovered it. I wondered who came up with the idea of packing junk in phony FACR cartons as pass-through orders instead of hauling debris to the dump. Their take had to be way more than we originally thought. After all, how much could the payoffs, cartons and junk amount to? A few million would be a lot.
As though he had read my mind, Nathan said, “I figure they probably netted at least $35,000,000. We’ve got Julia and Matt red-handed, but we still don’t know who Ghost is.
“Well, I’ve got some ideas about how we can find out.”
“Look, you three will not be finding out anything nor concocting any more risky plans, do you hear me? You’ve done your part and I don’t want you involved from now on. We made sure no one in the warehouses can tip them off, because we brought all of their stooges in as material witnesses and they’re scared stiff. We’ll hit the other warehouses tomorrow. Even if we don’t find the same thing in every one, we’ll know who was on the take.” Hopefully we’ll be able to recover some of the money.”
“But don’t you even want to hear my idea?”
“I do not. Listen to me. Leave it to us or you could be guilty of obstructing justice.”
“What! You wouldn’t have any justice to obstruct if it wasn’t for us. And, what about Bruce? Even if he’s not involved, he’s not going to get away with his little credit card game, is he?”
“Don’t worry about that. His financial records and credit card charges will be investigated thoroughly. I’m sure we’ll find enough to bring embezzlement charges against him.”
“I can’t wait to tell Kate and Cami. Who ever thought it would turn into something like this?”
“Well, one thing is for sure. The way the public loves government scandals, as soon the media finds out about this, and you can bet they will, reporters will be knocking at your door. You know, on one hand I hate to have this in the news, but I guess it does show the DOJ is diligent. I’m going to have to instruct the three of you on how you answer reporters. I’ve gotta go now, but I wanted to bring you up to date. Can I call you at home this evening?”
“Sure, any time after 8:00.” I clicked off the cell, leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. Kimberly Martin, undercover detective. What a swindle!
Not even a year had passed since I was thrilled to be named Woman of the Year at the Pacific Northwest Technology Conference. My future had seemed so bright until my boss torpedoed the company and my sleazeball boyfriend ripped me off. I guess that old saying is true: Life is what happens to you while you’re waiting for it to be the way you planned it.
Then there was Nathan Hartman, Attorney General of the United States. Did I have even a slim chance with him? Although he seemed to like me, after Ryan’s betrayal and almost getting involved with Matt, I was afraid to read anything into someone’s actions. Particularly someone as important as Nathan.
Trying to work was useless. By 2:00 Matt hadn’t returned and I decided I would take the rest of the day off, too. Nothing was happening and there was no one to say I couldn’t. I packed up my stuff and stopped at the reception desk.
“Listen, I’ve got a ton of things to do on the outside, so I’ll be gone the rest of the day. Just take messages and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Um, this has really been a strange day, Kimberly. Mr. Payton storms in, Matt and Julia storm out and now you’re leaving for the day. Is there something I should be worried about?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “No, but you’re right. It has been one very strange day.”
I drove toward my condo lost in thought. Things were all falling into place nicely, leaving very few loose ends. I planned to listen to Nathan and keep my nose out of anything further to do with what we uncovered. Like he said, let the FBI do their job.
A blaring horn shook me out of my daydream. Alert now, I sped up a little. A yellow light changed to red and I slammed on my brakes. My mental watchdog screamed “Pay attention!” as the driver behind my car narrowly missed rear-ending me. I sat there drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change and saw the other driver’s reflection in the rear view mirror. He was throwing me a finger. I switched from the classical music station I loved to something louder—something that wouldn’t lull me into wandering through memory lane. Classic oldies. Led Zepplin. Perfect.
The light turned green, and I joined the line of cars heading to the freeway, then glanced at the clock on the dashboard and changed my mind. Only 2:30. Time to kill an hour or so at Nordstrom and treat myself to something extravagant.