Bouncer (Bad Boys in Big Trouble Book 2) (23 page)

Arthur gestured with the gun in his hand. “These are
your
men?”

“Yeah. What’s the deal?”

Arthur looked like he might blast Bickley in the head. “The deal is they have FBI badges, you moron.”

Bickley laughed, the hideous sound reminiscent of a burro with laryngitis. “Those are fake creds, Art. I wanted to make sure no one bothered us, so I sent these two extra guys ahead to make sure the perimeter was secured. I guess it was.”

Arthur pushed out a long sigh. He put his weapon in the drawer of a nearby desk and approached Bickley. “Plus, you could break my rules and bring more than three men.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d ever know about these two extra guys, now did I?” He grinned like he’d gotten away with something and was extremely proud of it.

Arthur didn’t smile, but he did look reassured. “Dixon. Untie these men and direct them outside. Rules are rules and Mr. Bickley is only allowed three. These two can lick their wounds away from our meeting. You’re lucky I didn’t kill them already.”

“I appreciate your generosity, Art. I’m shocked they got caught. Maybe I’m paying them too much.”

That hee-haw laugh was already getting on Reece’s nerves. It was going to be a long night. Jessica’s expression mimicked the way he was feeling—supremely relieved. At least they didn’t have to watch anyone get murdered.

Arthur directed Reece to check Bickley’s other men for weapons. They surrendered them and were added to Arthur’s gun in the nearby drawer.

His boss sat on a small sofa in the center of the living room and directed Bickley to sit opposite of him on an identical sofa. In between the two sofas was a rectangular coffee table.

“Fetch us beverages, Dixon, if you please.” Dixon left the room.

Arthur then motioned for Reece and Jessica to stand behind him. Reece couldn’t believe the meeting was going to take place. He waited until Dixon came back with a rolling cart filled with coffee, tea, water, beer and wine. Once Arthur had a cup of coffee and Bickley had a beer, the meeting began.

Dixon sat in an overstuffed chair next to the sofa. Reece wondered if he was about to record the details, but he just sat quietly but intently studying the two men about to negotiate.

Arthur gestured to Bickley. “So, Cecil. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like for you to clean some money for me. I’ve been sitting on it for years. By rights, you’d think it should be laundered after all this time, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Where did the money come from?” Arthur asked and then sipped from his cup.

Bickley glanced at Jessica, took a swig from his beer bottle, and answered, “From the last job I did.”

“Which was what? The method I use depends on where the money came from.”

“Oh.” Bickley seemed reluctant to say. “It was a job I pulled back in Chicago.”

“A job? Explain.”

“A scam. A fraud. Do you really need the details?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

Bickley blew out a breath. “Basically I got authority over several large retirement funds and reinvested them in a private deal that should have paid off big. But unfortunately for the clients, the deal fell through with the exception of my salary and expenses, which had already been siphoned off.”

“Are the funds in cash or some other form of asset?”

“Cash. All cash. And it turned out the Feds were onto me, but I didn’t know it. They arrested me, but could never find the cash because I had such a good hiding place.” He didn’t elaborate. “The day it all came crashing down, I got off on a technicality for another minor offense, but the prosecution didn’t have diddly. I would have gotten off anyway.”

“And you believe the cash you have may be marked in some way?”

“It’s possible. Unlikely, but I’m not completely sure. The FBI asshole after me back then was a very serious dude. I wouldn’t put it past him to have found a way and copied the serial numbers on every bill.”

“Do you have the cash with you?”

“Not all of it, but a portion is in the back of my SUV.”

“What amount would you like to start with?”

“I have ten million with me.” He talked about ten million dollars like he’d cleaned between the sofa cushions and found some spare change.

“When will you deliver the rest?”

“Tonight. I don’t want to wait to bring it tomorrow.”

“How much total?” Arthur asked.

“A hundred million, give or take.”

Arthur took another sip of coffee. “My fee is forty percent.”

“Forty percent?” Bickley let out a very long and loud whistle. “That’s kinda steep, don’t you think, Art?”

Arthur lifted one shoulder. “You are welcome to try someone else.”

Bickley pushed out a long breath. “I have already. Seems forty percent is the going rate these days. Used to be more like twenty-five, back in the day.”

“Inflation crosses all socio-economic boundaries.”

“I’m desperate, so we’ve got a deal.”

“All right. Dixon will show you where to unload the first batch.”

“And then what?”

“Dixon will count it so we have an exact number and then he’ll process it. While he works on what you have with you, you can fetch the rest of it.” Arthur set his empty coffee cup on the table.

“No, I mean, when do I get my laundered money? What’s left of it anyway.” Reece thought Bickley seemed resigned to paying more than he wanted to, but would likely whine about it for the duration.

“I’ll give you immediate access to six million tonight. Once the remainder has been counted and I have the exact balance, I’ll provide you with instructions on how to access a special bank account with a balance in the amount of fifty-four million, give or take.”

“How will you clean it?” Bickley promptly guzzled the rest of his beer and then belched.

Arthur’s face shaped into a disapproving expression. Reece wasn’t certain whether it was the ill-mannered belch or the questions regarding the laundered money. Maybe both.

After a long pause, he said, “That is not your concern, Cecil. Once I take possession of your cash and the exact amount has been verified, then I’ll make the bulk of your exact share available in an off-shore bank account. Less my fee, of course.”

“Of course.”

“When can you fetch the rest of the cash?”

“Right now.” He pointed a thumb over one shoulder. “I’ll send my two extra beat-up guys to get it. We stowed it a couple of miles away with my sixth guy guarding it. It’ll only take fifteen minutes or so for the retrieval.”

“Excellent.” Arthur turned to Dixon. “Do you have everything ready?”

When Dixon nodded, Arthur said, “Go ahead and get started on the first ten million. How long will it take to count and process?”

“Ninety minutes minimum. Perhaps as much as two hours with processing added in.” Dixon left the room.

Reece waited for Arthur to pull out a ledger or make notes, but he only poured more coffee for himself. Perhaps once all the money was collected, he’d whip out a flashdrive and a laptop to register Bickley as a brand new client. Bickley availed himself of the beverage cart, grabbing another beer, popping off the top and guzzling the first third of it like he was in a beer drinking contest.

Another thought occurred to Reece. Perhaps when Dixon
processed
the money,
that
was when the details were recorded. Arthur trusted Dixon like a son. He always had. Reece made a mental note to ensure Dixon was questioned thoroughly in that regard. Loyalty only went so far when one was facing prison time.

Bickley’s men returned with a panel van filled with large, department store-sized shopping bags. Everyone exited the house and went into the first stall of the garage. The bags in the van were filled most of the way up with loads of banded money.

All of Cecil’s crew started carrying oversized, white bags into the generous four-car garage. Reece was tasked with helping to transfer the money.

Full night had fallen, making Reece feel better about his team being hidden. They were close to the end. He could stop being undercover as soon as tonight, maybe.

The thought came with a sense of relief, along with a considerable amount of angst. Like he did every other minute or so since they’d arrived here, he glanced in Jessica’s direction. She looked a little on edge. He’d noticed her surreptitiously watching him. He had no idea what was on her mind.

They had just finished filling a stall and a half with white bags. The back of the van was closed up and one of Bickley’s men drove it away.

Dixon came back from wherever he’d been counting money and whispered something in Arthur’s ear. Arthur nodded, his expression satisfied.

When the sound of several loud vehicles broke through the quiet darkness, his satisfaction turned to a frown. Twin shafts of light in the form of van headlights turned into the long driveway, followed by three other loud large vehicles.

The first van pulled into the driveway within sight of all the bags of money. The passenger door opened before the vehicle came to a complete stop and an FBI agent dressed in full tactical gear emerged and headed straight for Bickley. Another agent headed for Arthur.

Bickley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He obviously recognized the man headed for him. “You!” he shouted and backed away.

“I’m Special Agent-in-Charge Pierce. Cecil Bickley, you’re under arrest for so many crimes I’m not going to take time to list them all right now or we’d be here until dawn.”

Arthur sent a scathing look at Jessica and Reece before saying, “I’m sorry—Agent Pierce, is it?—but this is private property. You have no jurisdiction here.”

“I have a warrant in my pocket that says otherwise.”

Arthur’s face tightened. “Impossible.”

“I assure you that it is very possible. This isn’t
your
property, is it, sir?”

“No. A friend has allowed me the use of it. So unless you have a warrant for the property of the owner, Mr. Albert J. Jacobson, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“In fact, my warrant was issued with the cooperation of the actual owner,
Mrs
. Albert J. Jacobson, who was startled to learn her philandering husband had given you permission to use this place. Turns out it’s her family home and has been for all of her life,” Pierce said with a certain amount of satisfaction in his tone. Several of his agents had alighted from the numerous vehicles and stood behind him. Pierce said, “Arrest everyone, we’ll sort it out at headquarters.”

Reece stared at Pierce briefly and closed his eyes, because he recognized him. He
was
an FBI agent. Unfortunately, he’d come onto this scene before Reece had a chance to figure out how Arthur recorded his numerous deals and clients. Not to mention that since he’d worked on a case with Pierce five years ago, the man knew exactly who Reece was, too.

As if he sensed Reece’s silent cursing, Pierce looked at him and Jessica and started marching in their direction. It wasn’t a leap for Reece to figure out the man must be her boss. Interesting.

Reece expected Pierce to arrest him personally. Instead, he stepped past Reece to go toe-to-toe with Jessica.

“I’ll be arresting Agent Hayes myself. Turn around, Agent Hayes.” He spun her, whipped out a pair of handcuffs and had them attached to her wrists before Reece could protest or offer any protection.

Chapter Sixteen

“What?” Jessica had been so relieved the team had showed up she could hardly contain her jubilation or remember her part in the scenario Pierce had worked out. At least until he loomed over her with his imposing height, whipped her around, and snapped handcuffs on her wrists. That woke her up and made her pay attention.

Reece started to protest, but Pierce gave him a surly stare. “Don’t even try it or I’ll put you in cuffs, too.” Pierce yanked on her arm. She stumbled alongside him toward Arthur.

Pierce stopped in front of the money launderer. “You thought we didn’t know you were using her, but we did. Too bad for you.” He motioned Gordon over to put the man in handcuffs.

She managed to give Arthur what she hoped was a convincing wide-eyed stare before she was led back to Reece, who looked angry enough to spit nails, but didn’t interfere.

From an FBI van a few yards away, Jessica saw the side door slide open. Neil exited with Seth, the computer genius, hot on his heels. “Come back here, Agent Wiley. You’re supposed to stay in the van,” Seth said in an urgent tone.

Neil sidled up next to her, glanced down at her handcuffs and smirked. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve pictured you this way, Miss Cherry.” He made a kissy face near her cheek and grinned. When he turned, Reece was there. It was clear he’d heard what Neil said.

Reece took two steps right into the other man’s personal space and towered over him. “Back away from her, Agent, or I’ll bust your foul mouth wide open,” he said in a low, dangerous tone.

Neil puffed up like a peacock. “You do that and I’ll put you in handcuffs.”

“You’ll try to.” Reece gave Neil a smirk that dared him to try it.

Arthur, Dixon and Bickley were handcuffed but hadn’t yet been loaded into a van for transport back to FBI headquarters. Reece, surprisingly, wasn’t handcuffed. Jessica had figured he’d be considered culpable for helping move the money into the garage. Perhaps Pierce was going to offer him a deal, since he knew they were dating.