Chương 6
“For approximately four months.”
“And then?”
“They transferred into a trust.”
“Whose trust?”
Before he could answer, Vincent came back from the ramp.
His jacket was torn at one elbow, and a thin line of blood ran from his temple into his sideburn.
“He had a vehicle waiting on Mercer Street.”
“Mercer?” Mara said.
Vincent gave her an exhausted look.
“The street, not the man.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Tonight has not been strong on branding.”
Vale’s mouth almost moved.
Vincent noticed and looked offended.
“Glad somebody’s enjoying himself.”
“Did you see the vehicle?” Vale asked.
“Gray SUV, no rear plate.”
“Mercer?”
“Couldn’t confirm.”
Vincent wiped his temple with his sleeve and looked at the blood as if surprised by it.
“One officer got a partial front plate from the exit camera.”
“Then let the police work it.”
Vincent stared at Vale.
“That is an unusually healthy attitude coming from you.”
“I’m developing.”
“Terrifying.”
Mara held up the drive.
“Who owns the trust?”
Both men became quiet.
She looked from one to the other.
“Oh, good.”
Vincent rubbed his jaw.
“Adrian.”
Mara stared at Vale.
“You.”
“Technically.”
“There is no technically in ownership.”
“There is almost nothing except technically in trust law.”
“Do not lawyer me.”
“I’m not a lawyer.”
“That makes it worse.”
An officer approached and told them detectives were coming up from the street.
Nobody was leaving until statements had been taken again.
Mara asked about Pike.
“Ambulance is taking him to St. Vincent’s.”
“Is he going to live?”
The officer hesitated in the careful way people did when they had been trained not to promise anything.
“He was conscious when they moved him.”
Mara nodded.
It was not an answer, but she had run out of energy to punish people for imperfect answers.
The officer walked away.
Bruno sat on Mara’s shoe.
She looked down.
His rear end covered most of the toe of her boot.
“Really?”
Bruno looked up at her.
“He likes you,” Vale said.
“He weighs eighty pounds.”
“Ninety-one.”
“That was not the relevant part.”
Bruno leaned harder.
Mara let him.
For half a minute nobody spoke.
A tow truck reversed somewhere below them, producing three cheerful electronic beeps that seemed obscene under the circumstances.
Vincent pressed a folded handkerchief to his temple.
Mara had not seen a handkerchief carried by anyone under seventy in years.
“You carry that around?”
Vincent glanced at it.
“My grandfather said a man should always have one.”
“Your grandfather expected you to get shot at in parking garages?”
“My grandfather sold refrigerators.”
“Dangerous industry.”
“Margins were brutal.”
Vale exhaled through his nose.
The sound was almost a laugh.
Then Mara remembered the blood on her coat and stopped appreciating any of them.
She held the drive toward Vale without releasing it.
“Your trust owns Harbor East property.”
“Yes.”
“My company processes redevelopment funds.”
“Yes.”
“Payments are being routed through vendors that appear connected.”
“Yes.”
“Warren buried an internal review.”
“Apparently.”
“And your dead father somehow gave Warren a flash drive that ended up hidden in my car.”
Vale’s eyes dropped to the white tape marked M.R.
“That last part is impossible.”
“Warren didn’t seem confused.”
“Warren has just been shot.”
“He was scared of you before he was shot.”
“I noticed.”
“Why?”
“I can give you several reasons Warren Pike might be afraid of me.”
“Pick the relevant one.”
“I don’t know which one is relevant.”
Mara stepped closer.
“Then give me all of them.”
Vincent said, “Mara.”
She pointed at him without looking away from Vale.
“No.”
Vincent actually closed his mouth.
Vale studied her for a moment.
“My company sued Calder Financial eighteen months ago.”
“I know.”
“You know the public case.”
“I read the filings.”
“You read the filings Calder gave you.”
Mara felt the first small movement of dread.
“What didn’t they give me?”
“The settlement schedule.”
“There was no settlement.”
“There was.”
“That case was dismissed.”
“After settlement.”
“Our legal database says voluntary dismissal without consideration.”
“Then your database is wrong.”
“That database is maintained by my department.”
Vale said nothing.
It hurt more than if he had.
Mara rubbed her thumb over the edge of the drive.
“How much?”
“Eleven million.”
Vincent looked toward the approaching detectives.
Mara lowered her voice.
“What was Calder paying eleven million dollars to make disappear?”
“Not Calder.”
Vale paused.
“My company paid them.”
Mara blinked.
“That makes even less sense.”
“We discovered unauthorized transfers originating from an account controlled by one of my subsidiaries.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-two million over four years.”
“And you paid Calder?”
“To recover records they claimed they legally controlled.”
“That’s extortion.”
“That was my opinion.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“My father’s signature was on the original authorization.”
Mara looked again at the drive.
“Your dead father.”
“Yes.”
“He authorized transfers years before Harbor East existed?”
“He authorized an account.”
“Which became?”
“The funding vehicle used for Harbor East.”
The dread found somewhere to settle.
Mara had spent the afternoon tracing money backward from vendors.
She had assumed the strange payments began with the redevelopment project.
Maybe she had been looking at the end of the chain instead of the beginning.
“Your father’s signature could have been forged.”
“It wasn’t.”
“You’re sure?”
“I watched him sign it.”
The answer changed the air between them.
Mara lowered her hand.
“When?”
“I was twenty-six.”
“Why?”
Vale looked toward the garage opening.
Beyond it, city lights burned against low clouds, indifferent and expensive.
“My sister was still alive.”
Mara waited.
This time he did not accuse her of demanding incomplete sentences.
“She found money moving through one of our family companies,” he said.
“She thought my father was hiding losses.”
“Was he?”
“No.”
“He was hiding payments?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
“I never found out.”
“Thirty-two million dollars?”
“That was what disappeared later.”
“How much was moving when your sister found it?”
“Less than two.”
Mara stared at him.
“And nobody asked why?”
“She did.”
May you like
“What happened?”
Vale’s face became still in a way she had begun to recognize as effort rather than calm.
