Pyramid Deception (2 page)

“And how did Jason find such a marvelous opportunity? Online?”

“He's not stupid,” Cindy said. ““It was a personal connection, Hannibal. Someone close to the president of the company.”

Probably a lie, Hannibal thought, glancing briefly at the crouching panther on his bookshelves, a figurine Cindy had bought him because she said it reminded her of him.

“That's a start,” Hannibal said. He pulled his black driving gloves back on and slid his Oakley sunglasses into place. “We have a place to start. Why don't we go back to your office and talk to Jason? Maybe we can follow his connection back to the owner of the company and get some restitution.”

Cindy stood, suddenly on the edge of tears. “You think it was a scam, don't you? A scheme to take money from people without much sense.”

“I think it was fraud, yes. And I have some experience in this area, so why don't you let me do what I can?”

“Yes, you must have your chance to be the big hero,” Cindy said, snapping to her feet. “I bet you're glad the money's all gone. It brings me back down to…” If Cindy hadn't bitten off her words and turned away, Hannibal might not have known where that sentence was going.

“To where?” He asked, a little harder than he intended. “To my level?” When she didn't respond he walked over and opened the door for her. Cindy stopped at the threshold, not looking at him but rather down at the floor. “I'm sorry lover. Really. And thank you, Hannibal, for not laughing at me.”

“If you don't want anyone else laughing at you, we'd better stop by your apartment for a pair of shoes.”

Approaching the outer office doors of Baylor, Truman and Ray, Hannibal considered how precious a name on the door could be to a lawyer. He knew that before the year was out that door might well say Baylor, Truman, Ray, Santiago and Moore. Of course, that might not be the direction their careers took if the world learned of a disastrous lack of judgment that left them penniless.

When Cindy pushed Jason Moore's private office door open, he spun from the window. The sandy thatch of hair was corralled into an expensive haircut. He was tall and gaunt in his thousand dollar suit, but paler than anyone should be. He looked to be Cindy's age, which meant that he left law school perhaps six or seven years before, just about when Cindy did. Moore jumped to his feet and gave Cindy what passed for a hug in the Washington business world, complete with an air kiss past her ear. Then he thrust out a hand, leaning forward over his desk.

“Hannibal Jones. Haven't seen you since my rather embarrassing performance last year at Cindy's party. We're all way too busy, man, but it's great to see you again anyway.”

“I wish we were meeting up again under better circumstances,” Hannibal said. “You know why I'm here?”

Hannibal looked around while Jason got up and closed the office door. His office was identical to Cindy's, big enough and tastefully decorated in a modern style. His desk was covered with papers, books, and small sheets covered with scribbled notes. A vase of lilies on a side table gave the room a slightly effeminate feel. Cindy settled into a deep visitor's chair while Hannibal dropped onto the edge of the other. Jason returned to his own seat, already squirming in it when he finally answered Hannibal's question.

“You're here about the financial difficulty I got our Cindy in, aren't you?” Jason asked. “I can't tell you how sorry I am. I called her as soon as I found out…”

“How much did you lose?”

Jason's eyes cut to Cindy. She nodded. Why were people who dealt with other people's finances every day so shy about their own, Hannibal wondered.

“I'm down about 750,000 dollars. Every cent I've managed to save since I left law school. Nothing like Cindy's loss of course, but…”

“How did you find out about this investment company that no longer seems to exist?”

Jason sat back in his chair, his eyes going to Cindy again, then back to Hannibal. “My, we are direct, aren't we?”

“We are in a hurry,” Hannibal said, lacing his fingers in front of him. “We are trying to pick up the trail of a probable experienced and professional swindler before every trace of evidence evaporates and you and Cindy become just another pair of over-optimistic investors on some FBI victim's list. How'd you find out about it? Cindy thinks you know somebody.”

Jason clenched his whole face, and then forced his mouth open. “I was told that investors were only invited into this
opportunity by word of mouth, and that I'd better keep mum about it for fear that a stampede of investors would dilute the return. I was allowed to share the idea with one trusted person. I chose Cindy.”

Hannibal's voice was dry. “How lucky for her. You know this person who shared such a wonderful opportunity?”

“Yes.” Jason closed his eyes, but his fists were opening and curling in rhythm. “Irene is my…we're dating.”

That brought Cindy to her feet. “Your girlfriend? Seriously? The expert adviser you told me about to convince me to hand over every cent I had in the world is your girlfriend? And you didn't tell me?”

Cindy started forward and Jason recoiled with fear in his eyes, but Hannibal grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her back to her chair. When she plopped down on the seat he turned and pointed a gloved finger at her face.

“Be still. This all just got a good deal simpler than I expected it to be. We might be able to trace her source right back to the con artist who took you.” Then he turned to Jason. “Have you spoken to this Irene since you found out your investment has evaporated?” Jason shook his head. “Then get her on the phone.”

“I can't.”

Cindy glared. Hannibal focused on the scent of the lilies to stay calm. “You do know your lover's phone number, don't you?”

“I can't just call in the middle of the day,” Jason said. “She's watched.” When Hannibal raised an eyebrow, Jason added, “Her husband.”

“She's married?” Cindy almost shrieked, her Cuban accent getting stronger with her anger. “You take investment advice from a bitch who's cheating on her husband?”

“We needed the money,” Jason said, standing and staring into Cindy's anger. “I had to raise enough so we could take off for Mexico.”

Cindy took a menacing step closer. “Not just doing another man's wife,” she said, accenting every word with her hands, “but
breaking up their marriage. I thought I knew you, Jason.” Then she turned to Hannibal. “Honest to God, honey, he told me he got this tip from a trusted friend but never hinted even for a second that he was involved with this mystery source.”

“Just give me the number,” Hannibal said, turning a palm to Cindy. “I'll make the call. And put that thing on speaker.”

Hannibal sat on the desk and punched in the numbers. After four rings a woman answered.

“Jason? What's wrong? You know we can't talk during the day.” From the voice, Hannibal was prepared to believe that Jason was dating Dixie Carter or Paula Dean. This woman would be older than Jason, although she was still preserving her Southern belle accent.

“Ma'am, this is Hannibal Jones. I'm a private investigator and as you can see I'm calling from Jason Moore's office.”

“Is he there? Is Jason all right?”

Hannibal held up a finger to stop Jason from answering. “Yes, ma'am, Jason is right here, but he's had a bad shock and we thought you might be able to help.”

“It's about the money, isn't it?” Irene asked. “Oh Jason, if you're there, I'm so sorry, hon. Mine is all gone too. But I know what happened and I know who's to blame and I swear we going to make him pay.”

Hannibal saw Cindy's face light up, but he knew it was too soon for celebrating. “You know who's responsible?” Hannibal asked the phone. “If that's true I might be able to help.”

“I can't,” Irene said. Then in a whisper she added, “Not over the phone. He might be listening, or recording or something.”

“Then meet with me and if you've taken a loss I promise to help you get your money back.”

“Can you help me get my life back?”

What did that mean? “I'll try. Where are you?” And why, he wondered, was she so paranoid?

“Great Falls,” she replied, still whispering. “I'll look for Jason at eleven o'clock in front of the Safeway.”

The line went dead.

Silence gripped the room. Hannibal was considering the conversation, trying to mentally milk all the meaning out of Irene's words and her tone.

“I don't think there's much chance it's a trap,” Hannibal said. “She sounds spooked and angry. This might turn out to be easier than I expected.”

“What time do you want to head up there?” Jason asked. “It's a good half hour drive. And do we meet someplace or ride in the same car?”

“We?” Hannibal said with a small smile. “No, Jason, that's not how this works. You don't go along. If you're dating this woman she'll think she can hold back with you there. And there may be things she doesn't want to admit in your presence. In fact, you don't even talk to her on the phone between now and when I see her, understand?” Jason sat back in his chair, looking unsure.

“Hannibal's right,” Cindy said with a condescending tone. “Don't worry, I'll protect your interests.”

“Sorry, babe,” Hannibal said. “Best if I do this alone.”

“No,” Cindy said, stepping closer to Hannibal. “I have too much invested here. I'll go with you.”

“No, you won't.”

“Damn it, Hannibal, you can't just push me out of this.”

Cindy was very close, in his face. Hannibal bit back his reflexive response and slid off his Oakley sunglasses. His face was passive.

“This is a mistake,” he said. “I know you want to join me, but it's a bad plan.”

“Well it's our plan,” Cindy said.

Hannibal glanced toward Jason who was watching them very closely. Then he took Cindy's arm in a gentle but firm grip.

“Can I talk to you in your office for a minute? Please?”

After a couple of deep breaths Cindy marched out of Jason's office with Hannibal close behind. She walked to her own office and spun toward him when she was in front of her desk. Hannibal quietly closed the office door.

“Where do you get off…?” Cindy began.

“Shut up!” Hannibal's voice was sharp and low, the voice he used when he was challenged in a bar. “This is my business and you will not tell me how to do my job.”

“Well if this is business then I'm the client,” Cindy said, hands on hips. “I'm the one…”

“What? The one paying me? Like I'm the hired help now?” Hannibal said through clenched teeth. “You better dig yourself. What you are is the woman who invested all her money without one word to her man. Not one word, when you got an expert standing in front of you every day.”

“Oh? I'm supposed to consult you about my business now?” Cindy's Cuban accent came out stronger as her voice rose. Cindy spat out her next sentence in coarse Spanish, waving her hands in Hannibal's face.

“Speak English,” he said, louder than he intended.

“I said I see you every day in your dumpy little flat in Southeast. Since when are you an expert in financial matters?”

It was Hannibal's turn to get in her face. He leaned in on her, fists clenched and shaking at his sides. “No, I ain't rich, and probably never will be. What I am is an expert in fraud, schemes, and deals that are too good to be true. Not that you need to be an expert to know you don't put all your eggs in one basket. But that really don't matter right now. Right now you're in trouble. Here's the facts that matter. You're the person who got you in this fix. I'm the guy who can get you out of it. So right now you need to sit your ass down and shut the fuck up.”

While he talked Hannibal poked a gloved finger at the spot between Cindy's eyes. She slowly stepped backward until she
was behind her desk. Then the energy seemed to leak out of her like steam, and she lowered into her chair. Through it all she never lost eye contact with him. When she spoke again her voice was childlike and weak.

“I need to do something.”

“What you need to do is go home and get some rest,” Hannibal said. “What you need to do is trust me. This is what I do, after all. I'll drive up to Great Falls and get a feel for the area and scope out the meeting place in daylight. Then we'll do the meet and we'll see if I can get a trail to follow. I'll let you know what I find out first thing in the morning. Now grab your bag and whatever you absolutely need to work on today. I'm taking you home.”

After dropping Cindy off, Hannibal doubled back to his own place in the District. There he did a little basic research about Great Falls and Googled up the location of the town's only Safeway. Then he moved to the kitchen and threw a steak under the broiler. While it browned he cleaned and function checked his .40 caliber Sig Sauer P229 because, well, you never know. He turned the steak, tossed a salad together, and ate in the living room watching NFL Countdown on ESPN. He didn't really care much about the team standings, but he loved the “C'mon Man” segments.

Four or five times he reached for the telephone to check up on Cindy, but each time decided not to. Twice he stood up to go talk to her father Ray, who lived upstairs from him. Both times he decided that she might not have told him what had happened, and might not want him to know. Even if she did, she would want to tell him herself.

Around seven o'clock he climbed into the Volvo he secretly called Black Beauty, cranked an obscure Jimi Hendrix blues CD and pointed west across the city. He crossed into Virginia and followed the George Washington Parkway north along the Potomac until he could hop onto the Georgetown Pike, the primary road slicing through his destination.