The Bricklayer - Boyd Noah - Страница 17

Vail picked the handset out of the cradle and turned it over. A small screen on the back of it revealed an Incoming Calls button. He pushed it and scrolled through the numbers. “612 area code. That sound like Minnesota?”

“I think so,” Kate said. “He’s been interviewed, and we’re pulling his toll calls once a week just in case.”

Vail continued to scan the missed calls. He took out a small notebook and started writing the numbers down. “This is interesting. Do we know what time Bertok disappeared?”

“Not exactly. I don’t think anyone noted the exact minute that the car stopped moving. It was a little before three o’clock in the afternoon on the seventeenth.”

“There’s a bunch of incoming calls on the day of the drop, all from the same number. It looks like they were calling every fifteen minutes or so. The last one was at two thirty-eight p.m. Whoever it was never left a message.”

Kate walked over to Vail. “What’s the number?”

“It’s a 310 area code. Wait, I’ve seen this number.” He flipped through his notebook. “It’s the cell phone Bertok was given to take along on the drop and was left behind with the tracking devices. He was calling his own phone.”

“To check his messages.”

“I suppose it could have been routine, bored with the drive or nervous about what he was about to be put through.”

“Is calling every fifteen minutes routine?” She looked at Vail, who shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s assume for a minute that he had intended to steal the money. If he was calling that frequently, maybe it had something to do with his plans to get away.”

“Maybe.”

Kate went back to searching the drawers in the kitchen while Vail finished noting the calls. When Kate was finished, she said, “You done in here?”

“All set. Let’s search the bedroom. Nine out of ten times, that’s where the goods are found,” he said.

“That sounds very Freudian.”

“Who knew more about human beings hiding stuff than Freud?”

They went into the small bedroom, and while he looked under the mattress, Kate started searching the slim dresser. He said, “I’ve got the bathroom.” After pulling back the shower curtain, he checked the medicine cabinet. Other than shaving material, toothpaste, and aspirin, it was empty. The sink was set in a white vanity. He pulled open the single door and saw that it was empty. He started to leave when he noticed the side of the vanity. On the edge along the wall were faint gray smudges arranged in a pattern as if fingertips had left them. He forced his fingers into the crack between the cabinet and the wall, pulling it out about six inches. Wedged in an unfinished cavity of the wall was an accordion file with an elastic band around it. He took it into the bedroom and sat down to open it.

“What’s that?” Kate asked.

“The goods. Apparently Freud was wrong.” Inside were a dozen documents of differing sizes. Shuffling through them, he took out a metal document seal press and a writing tablet, both of which he handed to her. She flipped open the cover on the tablet. There was nothing written inside, but two-thirds of the top page was precisely torn off. And it was blue. “My God,” she said, staring at the tablet.

“What is it?”

She turned the torn, blank page toward Vail. “I guess you were right about doing things a second time.” The size, color, and texture of the blue writing paper were identical to those of the neatly torn pieces used for the Pentad notes. She looked back at Vail, who continued to go through the documents methodically. She had learned not to expect any type of reaction from him, but she was amazed that even this piece of evidence didn’t seem to excite him.

The top four sheets of paper Vail now had in his hands were blank applications for a U.S. passport. The next was a Florida birth certificate. The name at the top had been carefully whitened out, and the name “Ruben Aznar” had been typed over it. Under the document were three more full-size copies that, through the careful use of a copying machine, had eliminated any evidence of the Wite-Out. Vail felt the seal embossed into the bottom of the page and then held it up to the light to read the raised letters. He turned over one of the documents and pressed the metal seal into a blank space. Holding it up at an angle, he said, “That’s what I thought. It’s not the Florida state seal. It’s a notary public for the county of Los Angeles. Unless you really look at it, you think it’s a certified original document.” There were a half-dozen copies of the birth certificate and an application for a Florida driver’s license with a Miami address. “How long did Bertok know about the drop before he flew to Phoenix?”

Kate said, “I’m not sure, maybe two days. Would that have been enough time to get all this together?”

“I suppose if you know the right people. Most agents working criminal cases do.”

“If this is the blue paper used in the notes, the lab should be able to match it.” Still Vail showed no reaction. “Why do you think he chose Miami?”

“He’s got two million dollars in hundred-dollars bills and knows the serial numbers have been recorded. He needs to get it dry-cleaned. With Miami’s drug history, it’s not exactly a stranger to that type of transaction. Plus, it’s the gateway to the Caribbean. Cayman Islands, Panama, the Bahamas, Netherlands Antilles, and a half-dozen other governments specializing in laundering money and helping Americans evade taxes. Between the secrecy of the banking laws and the individual governments’ interests in keeping the United States out of their business, I’d say it’s a high-probability destination.”

“This looks like the break we’ve been looking for. You don’t seem very fired up about this.”

“We’ve found a few pieces of paper, nothing more.”

“Excuse me for getting excited, but if you had been on this from the beginning, this would look like the Second Coming of Christ,” she said. “Are we done here? I’ve got to get the Miami office on this.”

“Can you pack everything up while I take one last look around?” Vail asked. “I want to check all the nooks and crannies.”

Kate reached over on the bed and pulled the lone pillow out of its case and then started to fill it carefully with the cache of evidence. “Look who’s been promoted to gun bearer.”

He smiled. “The death of chauvinism has been greatly exaggerated.”

“And they say all the really great pickup lines have been used.”

“I assume you’ll get this hand-carried back to the lab.”

“I will. What’ll you be doing?”

“I’ll try to get the United States attorney’s office to authorize a pen register on this phone in case Bertok starts calling for messages again.”

Kate hadn’t considered using the device. It would list all the activity on Bertok’s line including incoming calls that might be traced back to him. “And if they won’t authorize it?” she asked.

“Then I’ll have to.”

“FIND ANY Bureau property?” Tye Delson asked.

“You know,” Vail said, “this would be a lot easier if we didn’t have to read between each other’s lines.”

“So you want to know if I’m a stand-up gal.”

“I guess that’s what I’m asking.”

“Do you know why lawyers follow the rules, Steve? It’s not that they believe in them—in fact their biggest weakness is probably that they feel rules don’t exactly apply to them. No, they follow the rules simply because they’ve seen too many people get caught who didn’t. I have this fairly well-researched idea that at some point in their life, every sociopath dreams of going to law school. Unfortunately, too many of them get through.”

“Are you calling yourself a sociopath?”

“We’re all sociopaths. The only variable is whether we control it or it controls us. What I’m saying is that I don’t need to follow all the rules all the time. And I can keep a secret if it’s for the greater good, but at the same time I don’t want to be given up by someone who pledged allegiance and then got faint at the sight of his own blood.”