“I think we have a problem with the girl,” Herman said.
“
Eric
a or Sarah
?
”
“
Eric
a, Dumb Ass. You pissed her off then assigned her the only job that leads straight to us. She’s been gone two days. I’m worried she’s off with the feds building a case.”
“She’s hasn’t figured this thing out in two days.”
“What if she’s been working it for the last two months
?
We have no idea how close she is.”
“Relax. She’s pissed over my promotion. That’s why she went away. She hasn’t had time to breathe never mind do any research. My worry is making the charges stick. We don’t have a problem until we accuse her. When we do, we’ll have to lay out the scam. That’s when we’re vulnerable, not before.”
“Think about it, Brad. She works ninety hours a week for over a year then suddenly takes off. Why
?
Where’d she go
?
”
“She didn’t say.”
“Aren’t you her boss
?
”
“She’s got fifteen weeks unused vacation and we’re not exactly the best of friends. I couldn’t stop her. And you know what
?
I’m glad to have her out of here. I’ve got the run of the place. She’s taking a few days off. That’s it.”
Herman turned his nose up at the CD in Brad’s hand. “Get rid of that thing. Break it into tiny pieces then check her office and find out how much time we have.”
“The place would be swarming with cops if she knew. She’s curious and she knows something’s wrong, but she doesn’t have any idea how big it is.”
“Get in there and find out what she knows. Buy us another week.”
“You’re the auditor. Why don’t you go in there and steal her notes. Get your ass in the line of fire for a change. See how you like it.”
“If I go in there, I’m coming down hard on someone. I’m not ready to do that yet. You’re her boss. Get in there and do what I’m paying you to do.” Herman slipped out into the hall without waiting for a response.
It was eleven, but Brad didn’t dare come out of the closet behind him. He timed three minutes on his watch, long enough for anyone who’d seen Herman leave to forget which door he’d come from.
Quickly to
Eric
a’s office, he flipped through her files. If someone came by he’d fudge something about a problem in client services. Doubtful anyone was still working at
11:12
p.m
.
The folder he was looking for was blank on the outside. He would have passed it by if it wasn’t on top of the stack. He immediately recognized the letter inside. He’d shredded this same letter and the phone bill twice already. The first time shocked Turner in front of ten people. The second time he’d taken the documents from
Eric
a’s office after she’d gone. Turner resurrected the documents twice and twice he snuck them to
Eric
a. Brad had turned them both into enemies, but it couldn’t be helped.
Eric
a had to be controlled and there wasn’t a better option to deal with Turner that day in client services. Brad’s name was scribbled several times in the margins. They were committed to proving he was involved. Sooner or later they would.
Herman was right: she was getting close. The problem was stated a dozen times in her handwriting. She just hadn’t made the leap to the answer. A dozen explanations were hypothesized, most of them scored out repeatedly as if to blot out distracting thoughts. One hypothesis appeared to be under investigation and it wasn’t far from the truth. She’d made a list of people who could directly access the database and change the time manually. She was thinking along the right lines, just not on the right scale. Changing transactions by hand would be fraught with errors. It would be an easy way to make ten thousand here and there, but it was no way to make two hundred million.
Brad ran the folder and its contents through the shredder outside Marty’s office. The waste was incinerated twice a week. By the time
Eric
a reconstructed her file and started over, she’d be the center of the investigation. He wasn’t eager for that nightmare to begin, but he’d be glad when he had it all behind him. Soon he’d have nothing to hide, nothing that anyone in this country could find.
His final problem was Herman’s file. He needed to find a solution to that problem soon.
The
Arizona
sun was so strong at
8:00
a.m.
that Tobey could almost hear the sidewalk sizzle outside. His nose didn’t register the smell of urine in the corners of the narrow stairwell as he waddled down the concrete steps past scores of residents who’d sleep until
noon
. A dozen women earned their living in the
midnight
hours cramped in their little rooms. Others idled the nights away, drinking, commiserating and using darkness to steal enough to get by. Tobey would be sleeping, too, if his orders weren’t so specific. The simple job afforded him a roof over his head and he wasn’t going to be thrown out in the blazing sun over something as trivial as getting up before
eight o’clock
. He kept the alcohol to a minimum this time of the month and made sure he arrived every day before eight-thirty.
Even the lobby was unmanned this early as he walked through and emerged into the fierce morning sun.
“Tobey. Where you goin’ this early
?
”
“Down to central. Get some day work,” Tobey said even before turning around. The voice belonged to the one man he didn’t want to see. Larry had taught him to survive in the park. They shared good fortune and protected each other from the kids that roamed around after dark looking for trouble. When he landed this job, he bought Larry a bottle of Chivas Regal. That turned out to be a big mistake when he learned the rules. Larry knew he’d come into money and he hounded Tobey for handouts constantly. Tobey helped when he could, but he couldn’t give Larry the thing he needed most: a roof.
He turned to see Larry’s weathered face down on the sidewalk. He hadn’t picked this spot by chance. He’d flopped here to protest being abandoned. Tobey had no choice. He had to leave him here and he wished he could tell him why.
Larry sat up with great effort. “Gonna be ninety-five today. You’re too old to work in this sun.”
Tobey had come here to escape the elements. He survived the first winter easily, but hadn’t considered how brutal the summer sun would be. An
Arizona
summer was as unforgiving as any northern winter.
“I’m too old to sleep outside. I got to work.”
Larry pushed himself higher and flattened the soles of his worn out shoes against the concrete as if he’d get up and come along. He didn’t need an invitation, but he waited for something. An apology maybe.
“I gotta go. Catch you later.”
Larry grunted as Tobey jaywalked to the opposite corner and headed down the next block. Two years of merciless sun had baked Larry’s face to a grisly leathery texture. Tobey felt sorry for him, but couldn’t risk winding up back in the park. He hurried around the next corner and went inside the postal center. The counters didn’t open until nine so there wasn’t anyone inside to see him open the box.
The key turned and he found two envelopes. The first had the familiar blue BFS logo. The address printed on the check showed through the cellophane window. The larger envelope looked familiar as well. He clutched them in his fist and hustled to the ATM. There he opened the check and carefully copied the numbers onto the deposit envelope.
He withdrew three hundred dollars when he was finished. Normally that amount had to last an entire month, but the second envelope would have instructions for another job, one that meant a hot shower and another handful of cash. He didn’t bother to read the message. He pocketed his receipts and headed back to his apartment.
…
Three days later Tobey followed the same routine, but this time he walked three blocks north to meet Carlos.
This place was swank. He buzzed once and the door clicked open. He took the elevator to five and hiked to the end of the hall. The door swung open before he could knock. Carlos welcomed him in.
“Right on time,” Carlos said as he shut the door and chained it.
The .45 holstered under Carlos’ shoulder didn’t bother him. He had a job to do and Carlos was here to make sure things went smoothly. As long as he did what he was told, he needn’t fear Carlos or the gun. He delivered the receipts to the table and flashed the unopened envelope.
“The check cleared. It’s bank day,” Carlos said.
Tobey nodded and headed off to the shower stocked with shampoo, soap and even an unopened package of razors. The clean fiberglass shower reminded him of his life before the accident when he had his own place. He had pride back then, a real job, a decent life. When it collapsed he’d lived minute by minute for almost a year, drinking himself into a stupor most days. Luckily, Carlos stumbled over him in the park before he wasted away. Now he was coming back. Carlos put him up in that rat infested place full of drunks and prostitutes, but at least he was indoors. If he kept it up better days were coming.
Freshly showered and shaved, he put on the white shirt and suit that Carlos only let him wear to the bank. There was a new tie on the doorknob, blue with a sandy beach and a fleet of tiny sailboats. He tied the tie, stepped out into the living room and waited for Carlos to look him over.
Carlos tugged on the tie and smelled his breath. He hadn’t had much the night before and he’d brushed his teeth this morning. Carlos couldn’t tell.
“Remember, the wiring instructions are prepared by your accountant. Let the manager fill out the forms. Sign them and get back here with the paperwork they give you. Don’t leave without it. No paperwork, no green.”
“You got it, Boss.”
Carlos handed him the letter and Tobey strolled down the hall looking like a man with a million buck
s.
Stan palmed the plastic button and his Coke thunked and rattled its way down through the machine and poked out the bottom. As he came up with the can, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. The familiar voice boomed across the empty lunch room as if he were talking to someone sixty feet away. “
Stanley
J. Nye. Way you been man
?
You gone corporate on me
?
”
Stan turned to meet Sean’s beefy shoulders at eye height, his thumb still squeezing Stan’s clavicle. Sean’s mailroom duties required him to roam the office continually. He enjoyed talking about the latest movies and classic cop dramas almost as much as Stan. When they crossed paths they’d drift into a vacant office or conference room and chat away a half hour. They hadn’t had such a chat in two weeks. Stan had been too busy to notice. Sean looked slighted. He seemed to know their chats were a thing of the past.
“Herman’s working me to death,” Stan said.