"Admissible in court?"
"Most of it."
"Enough for convictions?"
"A box full."
"Where's the box?"
"In the trunk of my car."
Cutter instinctively looked over his shoulder in the general direction of the parking lot. Then he stared at Sandy. "This is stuff Patrick gathered before he split?"
"Correct. He got wind of the Aricia matter. The firm was planning to kick him out, so he very patiently collected the dirt."
"Bad marriage, etc., etc., so he took the money and ran."
"No. He ran, then took the money."
"Whatever. So now he wants to cut a deal, huh?"
"Of course. Wouldn't you?"
"What about the murder?"
"That's a state matter, not really your concern. We'll deal with it later."
"We can make it our concern."
"I'm afraid not. You've got the indictment for the theft of the ninety million. The state of Mississippi has the indictment for the murder. Unfortunately for you, the feds can't come in now and charge murder."
Cutter hated lawyers for that very reason. They didn't bluff easily.
Sandy continued. "Look, this meeting is a formality. I'm just going through channels, don't want to overstep here. But I'm perfectly ready to start making calls to Washington first thing in the morning. I thought we'd have this chat, and I hoped you would be convinced we're ready to deal. Otherwise, I'm on the phone."
"Who do you want?"
"Someone with complete authority, FBI and Justice. We'll meet in a large room somewhere and I'll lay out the case."
"Let me talk to Washington. But this better be good."
They shook hands stiffly, and Sandy left.
Chapter 31
MRS. STEPHANO was sleeping again. Those bothersome young men in matching dark suits had left their street, and the neighbors had stopped calling with their nosy questions. The gossip over bridge had returned to more normal topics, Her husband was relaxed.
She was sleeping soundly when the phone rang at 5:30 A.M. She grabbed it from the night table. "Hello."
A stout, firm voice said, "Jack Stephano, please."
"Who's calling?" she demanded. Jack was moving under the covers.
"Hamilton Jaynes, FBI," came the reply.
And she said, "Oh my God!" She placed a hand over the receiver. "Jack, it's the FBI again."
Jack turned on a light, glanced at the clock, took the phone. "Who is it?"
"Good morning, Jack. This is Hamilton Jaynes. Hate to call so early."
"Then don't."
"Just wanted you to know that we've got the girl, Eva Miranda, in custody. She's safe and secure, so you boys can call off your dogs."
Stephano swung his feet out of the bed and stood next to the table. Their last hope was gone. The search for the money was finally over. "Where is she?" he asked, not expecting any meaningful answer.
"We have her, Jack. She's with us."
"Congratulations."
"Look, Jack, I've sent some men down to Rio to monitor the situation with her father. You have twenty-four hours, Jack. If he is not released by five-thirty tomorrow morning, then I'll have a warrant for your arrest, and the arrest of Aricia. Hell, I'll probably arrest Mr. Atterson at Monarch-Sierra and Mr. Jill at Northern Case Mutual, you know, just for the hell of it. I've really wanted to talk to those boys, along with Aricia."
"You enjoy the harassment, don't you?"
"Love it. We'll help the Brazilians extradite you guys down to Brazil, you know, and that should take a coupla months. No bail with an extradition, so you and your sleazy clients would spend Christmas in jail. Who knows, extradition might work for a change, and you'd get to go to Rio. I hear the beaches are lovely. Are you there, Jack?"
"I hear you."
"Twenty-four hours." The phone clicked and the line was dead. Mrs. Stephano was in the bathroom with the door locked, too rattled to face him.
Jack went downstairs and made coffee. He sat at the kitchen table, in the semidarkness, waiting for the sun to rise. He was tired of Benny Aricia.
He had been hired to find Patrick and the money, not to ask questions about how the money got created. He knew the basics of Benny Aricia's history with Platt & Rockland, and he had always suspected there was much more to the story. He had probed once or twice, but Aricia showed no interest in discussing the events which preceded Patrick's disappearance.
From the beginning, Jack had suspected the law firm's offices had been wired for two reasons. The first was to gather dirt on the other partners and their clients, specifically Aricia. The second was to lead Patrick to the money after his funeral. What was unknown to everyone, except to maybe Aricia and the partners, was how much damaging evidence had been taped and stored by Patrick. Stephano suspected that plenty of dirt had been gathered.
When the money vanished, and Stephano began his search, the law firm chose not to join the consortium. It had thirty million dollars at stake, yet chose to lick its wounds and go home. The reason given was lack of money. The partners were basically broke, things were about to get much worse, and they simply couldn't afford to participate. This had some logic at the time, but Stephano also sensed a reluctance to find Patrick.
Something was on the tapes. Patrick had caught them redhanded. As miserable as their lives had become, the actual capture of Patrick could be their worst nightmare.
Same for Aricia. He'd wait an hour, then call him.
BY SIX-THIRTY, the office of Hamilton Jaynes was crawling with people. Two agents sat on a sofa and studied the latest report from their contacts in Rio. One stood beside Jaynes' desk and waited to give an update on Aricia's whereabouts; he was still at the rented condo in Biloxi.
Another stood nearby with an update on Eva Miranda. A secretary carried a box of files into the office. Jaynes was in his chair, on the phone, haggard and coatless, ignoring everyone.
Joshua Cutter entered, also worn and wrinkled. He'd slept two hours in the Atlanta airport waiting for a flight to Washington, D.C., where an agent met him for the drive to the Hoover Building. Jaynes immediately hung up, and ordered everyone from his office.
"Get us some coffee, lots of it," he barked at the secretary. The room cleared and Cutter sat rigidly before the grand desk. Though mightily fatigued, he tried hard to be alert. He'd never been near the Deputy Director's office before.
"Let's hear it," Jaynes growled.
"Lanigan wants to cut a deal. He claims to have enough evidence to convict Aricia, the lawyers, and an unnamed U.S. Senator."
"What kind of evidence?"
"A box full of documents and tapes, stuff Lanigan accumulated before he skipped out."
"Did you see the box?"
"No. McDermott said it was in the trunk of his car."
"And what about the money?"
"We never got that far. He wants to meet with you and somebody at Justice to discuss settlement possibilities. I got the impression he thinks they can buy their way out of it."
"That's always a possibility when you steal dirty money. Where does he want to meet?"
"Down there, somewhere in Biloxi."
"Let me call Sprawling at Justice," Jaynes said almost to himself, as he lunged for the phone. The coffee arrived.
MARK BIRCK tapped his designer pen on the table as he waited in the visitors' room of the federal detention center. It was not quite nine, much too early for lawyers to see their clients, but he had a friend in administration. Birck explained it was an emergency. The table had privacy panels on both sides and a thick glass plate down the center. He would talk to her through a small screened opening.