Ransom (21 page)

Ted called Fernanda from his cell phone, after he and Rick got in the car. Rick told his office he'd be gone for a couple of hours, which seemed reasonable. He really missed working with Ted. This was almost fun. But he didn't dare say that to Ted. Ted was too worried to be amused at the moment. Fernanda was home, and sounded breathless when she answered. She said she'd been packing for her son, who was leaving for camp.

“Is it about the car bombing again?” she asked, sounding distracted. He could hear loud music in the background, so he knew some of the kids were home. Ted hoped all of them were. He didn't want to frighten them, but she had to know. He wanted to tell her what he thought. Even if it scared her, she needed to be warned.

“It's not directly about the car bombing,” Ted said evasively. “It's indirectly related, but it's actually something else.” She said she'd be home when he arrived, and then they hung up.

Ted parked in her driveway, and glanced around as he walked up to the front door, wondering if they were watching her, if Waters or Morgan was somewhere in the street outside her house. In spite of that possibility, he had made a conscious decision to enter the house through the front visibly. There was no reason for Peter Morgan to recognize him, and even if he or Waters did, Ted had always preferred the theory of a visible police presence in circumstances like that as a deterrent. The FBI often preferred keeping out of sight, which Ted had always personally felt put victims in the position of being used as live bait.

Peter Morgan saw them go in. For a minute, he thought they looked like cops, and then decided he was crazy. There was no reason for cops to show up at her house. He was getting paranoid, because he knew the day was coming close. He also knew Addison had been arrested the day before, on Mickey Mouse charges connected to his taxes. Addison said he wasn't worried. He was still leaving for Europe on schedule, and their plans hadn't changed. Everything was in order, and whoever the guys were who had gone into her house, she seemed to know them. She smiled broadly at the Asian man who had rung the doorbell. Peter wondered if they were stockbrokers or attorneys, or people who managed her money. Sometimes money men looked like cops too. He didn't even bother to call Addison and tell him. There was no reason to, and he had told Peter not to call for a while, unless he had a problem, even though he said his cell phone couldn't be traced. But Peter's could. He hadn't had time to buy one of the ones Phillip had recommended, although he was planning to in the next week. And as Peter sat outside the house, thinking about it, Ted was sitting down with her in the living room. She had no idea why he had come to see her. And even less idea that in the next five minutes, what Ted Lee was going to say to her would change her life forever.

Chapter 12

When Fernanda opened the door
to Ted and Rick, she smiled up at them for a moment and then stood aside to let them in. She noticed that Ted's partner was different this time, and there was an unmistakable ease and warmth between the two men, which seemed to extend itself to her. And she saw immediately that Ted looked concerned.

“Are the kids home?” Ted asked as she walked them into the living room, and she laughed. The music was blaring so loud from upstairs that it nearly shook the chandelier.

“I don't usually listen to that stuff myself.” She smiled and offered them something to drink, which they declined.

She noticed that there was an air of authority about the second man, and wondered if he was Ted's superior, or just someone to replace the partner he had brought with him before. Ted saw her looking at Rick, and explained that he was a special agent with the FBI and an old friend. She couldn't imagine what had brought the FBI into it, and was momentarily intrigued as Ted asked again if all the kids were at home, and she nodded.

“Will's leaving for camp tomorrow, if I can ever get him organized, and keep all his stuff in his bag long enough to get him out of here.” It was like packing an Olympic team, she'd never seen so much lacrosse equipment for one kid. “Ashley's leaving for Tahoe the day after tomorrow. Sam and I are going to hang out together for a couple of weeks.” And before they even left, she already missed Ashley and Will. It was going to be the first time that any of them had been apart since Allan's death, and being separated from them now was harder for her than it had ever been. She sat looking at the two men expectantly, wondering why they had come to see her. She had no clue.

“Mrs. Barnes, I'm here on a hunch,” Ted started cautiously. “That's all it is. An old cop's intuition. I think it's important. That's why we came. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am.”

“This sounds serious,” she said, frowning slowly, looking from one to the other. She couldn't imagine what it was. And until two hours ago, neither could they.

“I think it is. Police work is like putting a puzzle together, one of those ones with a thousand pieces, where about eight hundred of them are sky, and the rest are water. It all looks like nothing for a long time, and then little by little, you get a chunk of sky put together, or a little bit of ocean, and pretty soon enough starts to fit together, and you figure out what you're seeing. Right now, all we have is a piece of sky, a very small piece of it, but I don't like what I'm seeing.” For a crazy minute, she wondered what he was saying, and if she or the kids had done something wrong, although she knew they hadn't. But there was a vague, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked at him. He seemed so earnest, and so concerned, and sincere. And she could see that Rick was watching her.

“Did we do something?” she asked openly, her eyes searching Ted's, and he shook his head.

“No. But I'm afraid someone might do something to you, that's why we're here. I have a feeling, that's all I have, but I'm sufficiently worried to come to you. This could be nothing, or it could be serious.” He took a breath, as she listened carefully, suddenly her whole being was on red alert, and he wanted it to be.

“Why would anyone want to do something to us?” She looked puzzled, as Ted realized how naïve she was. She had lived in a protective bubble all her life, particularly in recent years. In her world, people didn't do bad things, not the kind of things Ted and Rick knew about. She didn't know those kinds of people, and never had. But they knew her.

“Your husband was a very successful man. There are dangerous people out there. People with no scruples or morals, who prey on people like you. They're more dangerous than you can imagine, or want to believe. I think some of them may be watching you, or thinking about you. They may be doing more than thinking. I don't know anything for sure, but the pieces started falling into place for me a few hours ago. And I want to talk to you about it. I'll tell you what I know, and what I think, and we'll take it from there.” Rick was watching his old partner at work, as he listened to Ted talk to her, and as he always had, he admired his gentleness and style. He was forthright without being unduly frightening. He also knew Ted was going to tell her the truth, as he saw it. He always did. He believed in informing victims, and then giving his all to protect them. And Rick loved him for it. Ted was a man of dedication, integrity, and honor.

“You're scaring me,” Fernanda said softly, searching Ted's eyes to see how bad it was, and she didn't like what she saw.

“I know I am, and I'm sorry,” he said gently. He wanted to reach out and touch her to reassure her, but he didn't.

“Special Agent Holmquist arrested a man yesterday.” He glanced at Rick as he said it, and Rick nodded as Ted went on. “He runs a mammoth business. He is apparently successful, he's done some fancy footwork with his taxes, and he's probably been laundering money, which got him into trouble. I don't think anyone really knows the whole story on him yet. He's very social, he seems respectable. He has a wife and kids, and to the world at large, he appears to be a huge success.” She nodded, listening carefully, taking it all in. “We did some checking this morning, and things aren't always what they appear. He's thirty million dollars in debt. Possibly thirty million dollars of other people's money, and more than likely the people he's investing for are not honest, law-abiding people. They don't like losing money and will go after him. Things are closing in on him. According to our sources, he's desperate.”

“Is he in jail?” She recalled the beginning of the story, when Ted said he'd been arrested the day before.

“He's out on bail. It'll probably take a long time to get him to court. He has good lawyers, powerful connections, he's good at what he does. But underneath the surface, there's a giant mess. Probably worse than we think. He needs money to stay afloat, maybe even to stay alive, and fast. That kind of desperation makes people do crazy things.”

“What does he have to do with me?” It made no sense to her.

“I don't know yet. His name is Phillip Addison. Does that name mean anything to you?” He searched her face, but there was no sign of recognition as she shook her head.

“I think I've seen his name in the papers. But I've never met him. Maybe Allan knew him, or who he was. He knew a lot of people. But I've never met this man. I don't know him.”

Ted nodded thoughtfully, and went on. “He had a file in his desk. A big file, very big, about three or four inches thick, full of clippings about your husband. From the look of it, he was obsessed with him, and his success. Maybe he admired him, or thought he was a hero. But I suspect he followed everything your husband did.”

“I think a lot of people did,” Fernanda said with a sad smile. “He was every man's dream. Most people thought he just got lucky. He did. But it was some luck and a lot of skill. Most people don't realize that. He had a sixth sense for business, and high-risk deals. He took a lot of chances,” she said sadly, “but all most people see are the successes.” She didn't want to betray him by exposing his failures, which had been equally huge, in fact greater in the end. But to the naked eye, and those who read about him, Allan Barnes had been the personification of the American dream.

“I'm not sure why Addison kept that file on him. It goes back a lot of years. It may be innocent, but it may not be. It's very thorough. Maybe too thorough. He even has magazine and newspaper pictures of your husband, and one of you and the kids.”

“Is that why you're worried?”

“Partly. It's a little piece of that puzzle right now, a piece of sky. Maybe two pieces. We found a name in his desk. Special Agent Holmquist did. And old cops have good instincts, sometimes they don't even know why. They're used to seeing something that looks like nothing, and bells go off. Bells went off for him. We checked the guy out, the name on the piece of paper is Peter Morgan. He's an ex-con. He got out of prison a few weeks ago. He's a small-time operator, but kind of an interesting guy. He graduated from Duke, got an MBA from Harvard, went to the right prep schools before that. His mother married money, or something like that.” He had read Peter's probation report, and all of that was in it, which was how Ted knew of it. He had read everything before he came to her. “He got himself in some trouble working in a brokerage house when he got out of Harvard, switched to investment banking, and married well. He married the daughter of the head of the firm, had a couple of kids, and started getting in trouble again. He got into drugs, started dealing, or using heavily, which probably led him into dealing. He embezzled some money, did a lot of stupid stuff, his wife left him, he lost custody and visitation of his kids, and came out here. And made a bigger mess. Eventually, he got arrested for dealing drugs. He was a small-time operator fronting for bigger fish, and he took the fall for them. But he deserved it. He sounds like a bright guy gone wrong. It happens. Sometimes people with the best opportunities do everything in their power to screw them up. He did. He spent just over four years in prison. He had a job working for the warden, who seems to think he's a great guy. I have no idea what his connection is to Addison, but he had Morgan's name written down twice. I don't know why. And Addison's name is in Morgan's address book. It looks like an old entry, not a new one.

“A few weeks ago Morgan was living in a halfway house, without a penny to his name. Now he's living in a second-rate hotel in the Tenderloin, with new clothes in his closet. I wouldn't call it a windfall, but he seems to be doing okay. We checked, he has a car, he's paying his rent, he hasn't gotten into trouble since he got out, and he has a job. We don't know about his connection with Addison. They may have known each other before he went to prison, or Morgan may have met him more recently. But something about that connection doesn't feel right to me, and it didn't to Special Agent Holmquist either.

“The other thing I don't like is that Morgan got out of prison on the same day as a man named Carlton Waters. I don't know if that rings any bells for you. He's been in prison for murder since he was seventeen years old. He's written a number of articles about his innocence, he tried to get a pardon a few years ago, and didn't. He lost on appeal several times. He finally got out after serving twenty-four years. He and Morgan were both in Pelican Bay prison, at the same time, and got out on the same day. We haven't connected Addison to Waters, but Morgan had Waters's number in his room. There's a link between these people, maybe a very thin link, but it's there. We can't ignore it.”

“Isn't that the man you showed us the mug shot of, after the car bombing?” The name sounded familiar to her, and Ted nodded.

“That's the one. I went to see him in Modesto, where he's living in a halfway house. And it may not mean anything, but I don't like the fact that you're living on the same street where I think he put a bomb under Judge McIntyre's car. I have absolutely no evidence, but I have my gut. My gut tells me he did it. Why was he here? For the judge, or for you? Maybe he decided to kill two birds with one stone. Have you noticed anyone watching you, or following you, a face that has turned up more than once? A strange coincidence of someone you keep running into?” She shook her head, and he made a mental note to himself to show her Morgan's mug shots. “I'm not certain, but my instincts tell me you're part of this somehow. Morgan had your address on a scrap of paper in his hotel room. Addison was fascinated by your husband, and maybe with you. I'm worried about that file. Addison is linked to Morgan. And Morgan is linked to Waters. And Morgan had your address. These are bad people. Waters is as bad as it gets. He and his buddy killed two people, no matter what he says, for two hundred dollars and some small change. He's dangerous, Addison is desperate for money, and Morgan is a small-time crook, and possibly the link between the other two. We have a car bombing, no suspect we can nail it on, and I think Waters did it, although I can't prove it.” Listening to himself, his suspicions sounded far-fetched, even to him, and he was afraid he probably appeared totally insane to her. But he knew with his entire being that something was wrong, very wrong, and something bad was about to happen, and he wanted to convey the seriousness of that to her. “I think what clinches it for me here is that Addison needs money. A lot of it. Thirty million dollars in a very short time before his ship goes down. And I'm worried about what he and the others may do to get that money for him. I don't like the file on your husband, or the photograph of you and your children.”