Where's Ellen? (Mystery) (MPP A JOE MCFARLAND / GINNY HARRIS MYSTERY Book 1) (5 page)

CHAPTER 8

A
s the sun began to set, everything seemed to slow down. Through his front window, Steve watched the street lights come on, lights in the houses across the road glowing as his neighbors settled at their dinner tables, no doubt talking about the commotion that had filled the street for much of the day. For Steve, it was so still and quiet that it was unsettling. Without realizing it, he turned from the window and went to the family room, where he sat down and focused on the large, flat-panel TV screen despite the fact that the TV was not turned on. Time seemed to have stopped for him as he repeatedly reviewed the events of the day and tried to make some kind of sense out of Ellen’s disappearance. His understanding didn’t increase at all, but his fear and worry did. He had never felt more alone and helpless.

The lights were on even later, at 10 p.m., in the third floor offices of the FBI in Cincinnati. Martin and Florio were in the small conference room at the end of the hall. Florio was standing in front of the white board, black marker in hand. Martin was half standing and half sitting against the table, with his arms crossed and facing Florio. It became clear that Florio was not just the silent gofer for Martin; it was Florio who had obviously done the most thinking on this and had organized his thoughts in an easy-to-comprehend way.

“So there are two possibilities,” said Florio. “Her disappearance either is or is not related to confidential military information. If it is, she’s either acting voluntarily or is being forced, physically or otherwise, to act this way. In any case, hubby could be involved.”

“And if it’s not related to military info?” prompted Martin.

“Easy. It could be a kidnapping or a faked kidnapping, again with or without her husband’s involvement. Or it could be murder for the insurance. Or money’s not the motive. Maybe it’s emotion, more personal.”

“More personal?”

“Either she’s run off to be with someone else or to just get away from her husband, or her husband has killed her for cheating on him, or he hired someone to kill her,” responded Florio without a second’s hesitation. “And that covers all the logical possibilities, except for aliens from Mars coming down and grabbing her.”

“Yeah, and I think we can exclude the aliens possibility, at least for now,” said Martin. “But how do we narrow down and exclude some of these other possibilities?”

“Very easy, sir,” Florio replied, winking and giving a playful salute. “By good detective work. But can we first go home and get some sleep and then start fresh in the morning?”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day, Frank,” replied Martin as he picked up his wrinkled suit jacket and headed for the door. Florio followed closely on his heels.

CHAPTER 9

T
he next morning, Joe and Ginny were sitting at their desks facing each other.

“So what do you think the deal is with Mrs. Sanders?” asked Ginny. “I know it’s not our case anymore. But even though they can give our case to the FBI, they can’t turn off our curiosity.”

“Right you are,” replied Joe as a smile spread across his face. “I could be wrong, but I still think the FBI is probably all wet if they think this is a kidnapping, much less a case of a spy running off.”

Nodding her head, Ginny responded, “We agree on that. But what
do
you think it is?”

“I haven’t moved far from my initial thoughts. I still think it’s most likely that either her husband killed her or she ran off with a lover. But I’m open to all the other possibilities, especially given the Feebies’ interest.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent. What next?”

“Whaddaya mean?” asked Joe, with the smile broadening across his face. “Wasn’t that you, Detective Virginia Harris, who was sitting next to me when we were clearly told to drop this case and let the Feebies play with it?”

“Yes, that was me. But I know you too well. You’ll no more give up this case than you’ll give up breathing.”

“Jeez, and I thought I was so good at concealing my thoughts. How about we take a short drive to talk with her employer?”

A short while later, Joe pulled into the driveway of Tycon Technologies. A quick showing of his badge and they were waved through by the guard standing outside the guardhouse. Joe parked in the area marked Visitor Parking just opposite the main entrance and he and Ginny walked inside.

“Let’s start with the boss,” said Ginny.

“Good idea,” said Joe.

Following brief discussions with the receptionist/guard in the lobby and then with the executive assistant to Ellen’s boss, Joe and Ginny learned that Ellen’s boss would be returning from a trip later that morning. Joe and Ginny agreed to speak with the head of Human Resources instead. A few minutes later, her assistant met them in the lobby and escorted them to the executive floor of the building.

As they were led into her office, the Vice President of Human Resources rose from her chair and walked around to the front of her desk.

“Good morning. I’m Gladys Harding,” she said as she smiled and stretched out her right hand.

“Good morning. I’m Detective Harris and this is Detective McFarland. We’re with the Jasper Creek Police Department,” said Ginny as she and Joe both shook hands with Harris.

“Pleased to meet you. How can I help you? Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” said Joe as he and Ginny sat in the two chairs in front of her desk. Harding rolled her chair around to the front corner of her desk to be closer to Joe and Ginny and sat down.

“We’re here about Ellen Sanders,” said Ginny.

“Oh, my God. What a shame. I hope nothing serious has happened to her. Do you know where she is?”

“No, not yet,” answered Ginny. “The investigation is still in its early stages. But we do have a few questions.”

“Yes. Yes. Of course. Anything I can do to help.”

“Do you have any thoughts as to where she might be?” asked Joe.

“Uh, no. None at all.”

“Has she been having any trouble at work? Anything, or anyone, bothering her?” asked Joe.

“No. Not really. Not that I’m aware of. But you need to understand that I don’t see Ellen every day. In fact, it’s often a few weeks between when we see each other or speak.”

“What do you mean by ‘not really’?” asked Ginny.

“Well, I’m pretty sure this isn’t relevant, but there was an issue seven or eight months ago.”

“Yes?” prodded Ginny.

“We had just completed the formation of a joint venture with a Brazilian company, the kind of thing we do fairly often. And when Mr. Symington assigned this joint venture to one of the other group executives, Ellen got very upset. There was no specific reason that it should have been assigned to her, but she’s so competitive about everything that she took this as if she had lost a race.”

“And what happened?” asked Joe.

“Nothing. I know that Mr. Symington talked to her and calmed her down, but she sure was upset for a few days.”

“OK. Thank you for sharing that with us. On a different note, can you give us some details about Mrs. Sanders’ life insurance through the company?” asked Ginny.

“Well, yes, of course,” said Harding. “As a senior executive, she has company-provided life insurance in the amount of $3 million.”

“Who’s the beneficiary?” asked Joe.

“Let me check the file,” said Harding as she swung her computer monitor around to face her, pulled the keyboard in front of her and started typing. Within a minute, she continued, “Mr. Steven Sanders, her husband, is the sole beneficiary. Oh, and, by the way, she may also have additional privately purchased life insurance, but we wouldn’t have any knowledge about that.”

“Anything else?” asked Joe.

“Well, in case of her death, all of Mrs. Sanders’ outstanding unvested stock options and restricted stock grants would immediately vest and be redeemable over the following three-month period.” Another bit of typing, followed by, “And, again, all of these, worth approximately $4 million at today’s opening market price for Tycon shares, would go to Mr. Sanders.”

“That’s a very substantial amount,” said Ginny.

Joe nodded his agreement and then asked, “What about kidnapping insurance?”

“We’re not supposed to talk about this, but I suppose it’s OK to tell the police. Like most large companies, especially with executives traveling all over the world, we do carry kidnap insurance.”

“Who is aware of this policy?” asked Ginny.

“We keep the knowledge of this insurance policy to as small a circle of people as possible — senior management and our other executives who are covered, our board of directors, our auditors and our insurance broker. If the existence of the policy became widely known, it would act like an open invitation to potential kidnappers. In fact, the insurance company has the right to cancel this policy if they determine that we haven’t kept its existence sufficiently secret.”

“How large is the policy?” asked Joe.

“It obviously won’t pay more than the ransom amount, but the maximum is $10 million per kidnapping with a $20 million annual cap.”

“That is a substantial policy. It sure makes sense to keep its existence under wraps,” concluded Joe.

“Anything else you think we ought to know?” asked Ginny.

“Um. Let me think. No, nothing I can think of. But you should talk with Mr. Symington, our CEO and Ellen’s boss. He may have more information of value to you.”

“Yes, we plan to. But he’s not yet back from a trip,” responded Ginny. “Here are our cards,” said Ginny as she and Joe each handed one to Harding. “Please call us if you think of anything else.”

“Yes, of course. And please let’s hope you find Ellen and there’s nothing seriously wrong.”

“Yes, we hope so, too,” concluded Ginny. “Can you arrange for us to spend a few minutes with Mrs. Sanders’ executive assistant?”

“Sure. Just give me a minute.” Harding made two quick calls, one to Ellen’s executive assistant and one to her own.

Harding’s executive assistant entered the office a minute later and escorted Joe and Ginny to Adele, Ellen’s executive assistant. Ten minutes later, having learned nothing new, Joe and Ginny were escorted back to the lobby and, minutes later, they were in the car heading back to headquarters.

“Well,” said Ginny. “If you’re looking for financial motive, we sure found more than enough. Death or kidnapping have to remain on the table.”

“Yes, they do. But the table better be large enough to also hold fake kidnapping and fake murder.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

“Actually, my comment accurately reflects the kind of faith I do have in our fellow humans,” said Joe with a smile.

“I’d expect nothing less than that from you,” said Ginny as she returned Joe’s smile.

CHAPTER 10

L
ater that same Wednesday morning, Martin and Florio were back in the same conference room they’d left just hours before, having stayed on the case until almost 3 a.m. before calling it quits for the day.

“OK,” said Florio. “Any new brainstorms since we left here last night?”

“Nope. We just need to get to work and slosh through it all.”

“Yup,” agreed Florio. “Let’s start with the secret military info possibilities first. This could be the most critical, as well as most politically important, possibility. The sooner we can prove or disprove this avenue, the better off we, and perhaps the country, will be.”

Martin nodded and then proposed, “Let’s head to her office at Tycon Technologies. But before we go, I want to start the things it was too late to order up yesterday when we got back. Give me half an hour. I’ll get someone to start working through all the e-mails and files on her laptop. I’ll also get someone to start looking into all the phone calls she made or received over the past few months. Plus, I’ll arrange for a couple of agents from our Columbus satellite to canvas the neighborhood around her house — hopefully someone saw or heard something that morning — and to check with the local taxi and limousine companies.

“I also want to talk to Joan in Forensic Accounting to have her check if there have been any large money movements, especially deposits, in Mrs. Sanders’ as well as Mr. Sanders’ accounts recently. And I’ll put in a request with Customs to get her international comings and goings. And, last but not least, I’ll start our request up through the chain of command to get her file from the Department of Defense with her DOD security clearance investigation when she, or more correctly, her employer, originally applied for her clearance.”

“OK, Dan. You sound so organized, it’s almost scary. I’ll meet you at the car in 30 minutes.”

Martin was waiting next to the car when Florio arrived there after the agreed-upon 30 minutes.

“How’d you get all those things done in less than 30 minutes? asked Florio.

“Easy. I started a few of the tasks myself, then gave a list of all the other things to Jim and asked him to get them all assigned and started.”

“Pretty smart. Delegating beats doing any day of the week in my book.”

Florio got behind the wheel and sped out of the FBI lot as soon as Martin got in the car and closed his door. A short while later they entered the Tycon Technologies driveway and flashed their badges for a quick wave-through by the guard at the security guardhouse. Florio pulled up and parked at the curb directly in front of the main door to the administrative building. He swung down the sun visor, showing their FBI affiliation as his “authority” to park wherever he pleased.

Walking inside the lobby and going up to the guard who was serving also as the receptionist, Florio said, “Good morning. We’re with the FBI. This is Assistant Special Agent in Charge Martin and I’m Special Agent Florio. We’re here to see the head of the company, Mrs. Ellen Sanders’ superior.”

“What? You, too?” asked the guard.

“What do you mean ‘you, too’?” asked Martin.

“Two Jasper Creek detectives were here for the same thing earlier this morning.”

“What! Do you mean Detectives McFarland and Harris?” asked Martin in a louder voice.

“Yes, I think that was their names. Let me check the resister.” He reached for the log-in register, turned it around so that he could read it and confirmed, “Yes, those were their names. But you’re luckier than they were.”

“Luckier? How?” asked Florio.

“They couldn’t see Mr. Symington because he was still on his way back from a trip. But he’s since arrived, so you’ll be able to see him.”

“Great. We’d like to do that now,” said Florio.

Martin said quietly to Florio, “Those two-bit cops. What didn’t they understand about keeping their noses out of this case?”

“I’m sure they understood very well. They just didn’t give a damn,” said Florio.

“Well, we’ll see about that once we’re done here,” concluded Martin.

Following brief introductions with the CEO’s executive assistant who had come down to the lobby, the three of them took the elevator to the top floor. The FBI agents were immediately ushered into the CEO’s ballroom-sized office. After the normal introductions and pleasantries, Martin explained why they were there and asked if the company had heard from Mrs. Sanders.

“No. No one has seen or heard from her since she left here Monday evening, and we’re all very worried.”

“Any idea where she could be?” asked Martin.

“No. This is not like Ellen. She normally wouldn’t just not show up without telling someone first.”

“Sir,” said Martin. “Please tell us what confidential projects she was working on recently and whether she could have taken or sent any classified military information, or copies of it, out of the building.”

“Sorry, but I can’t tell you very much as most of it is highly classified.” Simultaneously looking at each other, the two FBI agents silently acknowledged that they knew exactly how they had made the two Jasper Creek detectives feel when they had asked the FBI agents questions.

“But we’re investigating Mrs. Sanders’ disappearance and we need to know if she might have classified information with her,” responded Martin.

“Well, I can tell you that several of the divisions she runs have nothing to do with the military, but a few do. These have been working on several important propulsion system improvements for both airplanes and ships, developments that, if successful, will provide more power with less noise and reduced radar and sonar visibility. That’s all I can tell you without you having Top Secret clearances.”

“Would Mrs. Sanders typically have access to the classified technical data about these projects? Could she have removed any of the documents — either the originals or copies?” asked Martin.

“Well, sure, she has access to all that. She is in charge of the divisions working on these things. And she has the required security clearance.”

“What about her taking classified documents out of the building?” prompted Martin.

“That is definitely against company policy, as well as against the law,” answered the CEO. “She couldn’t take any original documents out as these are carefully logged in and out of central storage on a daily basis, and we’d be immediately alerted to anything not returned that evening. Copies, of course, are also prohibited, but I assume it would be possible for someone to make photocopies or snap photos with their smartphone without anyone being aware. Our executives are not strip-searched every time they leave our facilities.”

“What about e-mailing or faxing some of these documents to someone outside of Tycon Technologies?” asked Florio.

“Well, that, of course, is not allowed unless the recipient also has Top Secret clearance, needs the document for his or her work on one of the active projects and is capable of receiving encrypted e-mails.”

“Yes, we understand it’s not allowed. But could she have?” persisted Florio.

“Well, yes, I guess she could have. We can easily check on our servers to see if she did so with her laptop. And I’m sure that you can easily have her home computer and her smartphone checked. And checking for faxes is easy since the fax machines keep a record of everything faxed outside of this building. But knowing Ellen, I’m sure that she’s done nothing wrong or illegal.”

“Understood,” said Florio. “Please go ahead and initiate those computer and fax machine checks that you mentioned. While you’re doing that, may we see her office?”

“Yes, of course. But I’ll have to have our security and compliance manager accompany you to be sure that you do not see or take anything that’s classified.”

A few minutes later, the security and compliance manager entered the CEO’s office and introduced himself. He led them to Ellen’s office near the end of the long hallway. Martin and Florio searched her office, being warned away from certain items several times. Before they left Tycon, they made arrangements for one of their contacts in military intelligence, who held the right security clearances, to come back and gather additional information and files, and take it all back to his office for a thorough, and classified, review.

Driving back to their office, the two agents agreed that unless they learned more from their guy in military intelligence, they could only conclude a big fat “maybe.” As Florio succinctly summarized, “She had access to classified info, probably couldn’t take the original documents out of Tycon, but probably could have made copies or photos and taken those out. Or e-mailed or faxed them out. Either we get more info or we wait for some communist country or terrorist group to attack us with our own technology. I’d much prefer getting more info rather than waiting for the attack.”

“Ditto,” agreed Martin.