city.”
***
Charlie was looking at the computer back at the precinct house, while Kruger and Alvarez discussed the timeline. A young detective handed Alvarez a piece of paper. Alvarez thanked the man. “He has an account at Bank of America. There’s a safe deposit box in his name at a location eleven blocks from the library at Thirty-Fourth and Madison.”
Kruger said, “We’ll need a search warrant for the lockbox.” Alvarez nodded and left the room.
Charlie said, “This guy is good. There’s nothing on this hard drive. It’s completely wiped clean.” And more to himself than Kruger, he said, “How the heck did he do that without leaving residual data…”
Alvarez came back into the room. “We’ll have the search warrant as soon as we can get it signed by a judge, probably thirty minutes.”
***
With the proper paperwork in hand, the bank’s branch manager opened the lockbox and left. Using latex gloves, Kruger opened the now empty box. He handed it to another detective, who started dusting it for prints.
Alvarez walked up to Kruger. “Just got his balance. He has over twelve-hundred dollars in a checking account.”
Kruger was silent. Finally he said, “The guy comes in, empties his lockbox, and doesn’t withdraw twelve hundred bucks. What’s wrong with that statement, Preston?”
Alvarez shook his head. “Didn’t need the money?”
Kruger nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t need the money. He had cash in the lockbox. Plymel’s driver said our fugitive stole money from Plymel. This guy’s been planning to disappear for a long time. If he’s paying cash, we’re screwed. He won’t leave a money trail we can follow.”
Charlie sighed. “The only way we’re going to find him is if he makes a mistake or we get lucky.”
Kruger nodded. “This guy is smart, real smart. I doubt he’s going to makes any mistakes. I have a feeling we aren’t going to get lucky anytime soon.”
Chapter 9
New York City
Crigler returned to his office and immediately went to the coffee service in the corner. He poured a cup and absent-mindedly added a packet of Equal to the strong black liquid. The view out his floor-to-ceiling window included Midtown, Central Park and the upper East Side; he saw none of it as he stood sipping his coffee and staring into the distance. Plymel downing a scotch at eleven in the morning played into his plan. He had seen this type of conduct during his years at the Justice Department in Washington. Perfectly stable men, when confronted with a crisis they couldn’t resolve, resorted to self-destructive behavior. Plymel was now heading down that slippery path.
Plymel was skimming funds from the company—of that, he was sure. He also suspected the incident in the lobby involved those funds. But, the board would not act on suspicions. He needed proof the man was diverting funds into personal accounts. How to get this proof was the current dilemma. After several minutes of staring out the window, he smiled.
Turning back to his desk, he opened the top left-hand drawer and retrieved his personal cell phone. After finding the number he needed, he pressed the call icon. It was answered on the fourth ring.
“You are either in trouble or need a favor Alton, which is it?” The voice was gruff, without a hint of humor. If Crigler had not known the man for over thirty years, he would have ended the call.
“I have a job for you, Adam. Are you interested?”
“Not sure yet. How much does it pay?”
“Going rate.”
“Don’t be insulted if I hang up.”
“I need you to find out something about someone.”
Adam Weber chuckled on the other end of the call. “That has to be the vaguest job description I’ve ever heard. Meet me at O’Hara’s Pub in an hour. You’re buying lunch.”
***
O’Hara’s Pub was crowded, as usual. It was a popular hangout for Wall Street workers. Executives didn’t go there very often because lunch was inexpensive for New
***
Charlie was looking at the computer back at the precinct house, while Kruger and Alvarez discussed the timeline. A young detective handed Alvarez a piece of paper. Alvarez thanked the man. “He has an account at Bank of America. There’s a safe deposit box in his name at a location eleven blocks from the library at Thirty-Fourth and Madison.”
Kruger said, “We’ll need a search warrant for the lockbox.” Alvarez nodded and left the room.
Charlie said, “This guy is good. There’s nothing on this hard drive. It’s completely wiped clean.” And more to himself than Kruger, he said, “How the heck did he do that without leaving residual data…”
Alvarez came back into the room. “We’ll have the search warrant as soon as we can get it signed by a judge, probably thirty minutes.”
***
With the proper paperwork in hand, the bank’s branch manager opened the lockbox and left. Using latex gloves, Kruger opened the now empty box. He handed it to another detective, who started dusting it for prints.
Alvarez walked up to Kruger. “Just got his balance. He has over twelve-hundred dollars in a checking account.”
Kruger was silent. Finally he said, “The guy comes in, empties his lockbox, and doesn’t withdraw twelve hundred bucks. What’s wrong with that statement, Preston?”
Alvarez shook his head. “Didn’t need the money?”
Kruger nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t need the money. He had cash in the lockbox. Plymel’s driver said our fugitive stole money from Plymel. This guy’s been planning to disappear for a long time. If he’s paying cash, we’re screwed. He won’t leave a money trail we can follow.”
Charlie sighed. “The only way we’re going to find him is if he makes a mistake or we get lucky.”
Kruger nodded. “This guy is smart, real smart. I doubt he’s going to makes any mistakes. I have a feeling we aren’t going to get lucky anytime soon.”
Chapter 9
New York City
Crigler returned to his office and immediately went to the coffee service in the corner. He poured a cup and absent-mindedly added a packet of Equal to the strong black liquid. The view out his floor-to-ceiling window included Midtown, Central Park and the upper East Side; he saw none of it as he stood sipping his coffee and staring into the distance. Plymel downing a scotch at eleven in the morning played into his plan. He had seen this type of conduct during his years at the Justice Department in Washington. Perfectly stable men, when confronted with a crisis they couldn’t resolve, resorted to self-destructive behavior. Plymel was now heading down that slippery path.
Plymel was skimming funds from the company—of that, he was sure. He also suspected the incident in the lobby involved those funds. But, the board would not act on suspicions. He needed proof the man was diverting funds into personal accounts. How to get this proof was the current dilemma. After several minutes of staring out the window, he smiled.
Turning back to his desk, he opened the top left-hand drawer and retrieved his personal cell phone. After finding the number he needed, he pressed the call icon. It was answered on the fourth ring.
“You are either in trouble or need a favor Alton, which is it?” The voice was gruff, without a hint of humor. If Crigler had not known the man for over thirty years, he would have ended the call.
“I have a job for you, Adam. Are you interested?”
“Not sure yet. How much does it pay?”
“Going rate.”
“Don’t be insulted if I hang up.”
“I need you to find out something about someone.”
Adam Weber chuckled on the other end of the call. “That has to be the vaguest job description I’ve ever heard. Meet me at O’Hara’s Pub in an hour. You’re buying lunch.”
***
O’Hara’s Pub was crowded, as usual. It was a popular hangout for Wall Street workers. Executives didn’t go there very often because lunch was inexpensive for New
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