James Grippando - Need You Now

“Damn it, Patrick. Did you set this up?”

I hadn’t, but I could see how she would think otherwise. “No, but Andie’s right.”

Lilly rose, and so did Andie, blocking Lilly’s path to the door. “Sit for thirty seconds more,” said Andie, “and hear me out.”

Andie hadn’t presented it as an option, and Lilly backed down.

“Here’s the situation,” said Andie. “Take it as a given that Manu Robledo has in his possession a copy of Evan Hunt’s analysis of the Cushman Ponzi scheme. I can name three people who are alive today who could truthfully say that they saw the report in Robledo’s hands around the time he got it, three years ago. Robledo, obviously, is one. Tony Mandretti, who gave it to him, is another.”

“The third, I presume, is Evan,” I said.

“No. I said people who are alive today. I don’t think Evan knew anyway.”

“Then who’s the third?” I asked.

Andie hesitated, which underscored the importance of what she was about to say. “It’s a former government agent.”

“From the FBI?”

“No.”

“Who is he?”

“An undercover agent who introduced Manu Robledo to Gerry Collins. He was at a meeting in Miami three years ago, when Robledo confronted Gerry Collins with the analysis showing Cushman was a fraud. I can’t go into detail, but suffice it to say that things went terribly wrong. He was shot, but survived.”

This was entirely new territory to me, and a string of questions came to mind. “When you say he was an undercover agent, would I be on track if I were to guess that the government operation had something to do with the letters B-A-Q?”

“You’d be right on track,” said Andie.

“So he worked for the Treasury Department?”

“Slow down,” said Andie. “We can talk more about this, but only if I know both you and Lilly are on board.”

“On board what?” Lilly asked.

The color had drained from Lilly’s face, and I knew that we were sharing the same thought. I put it into words: “Are you saying that this former government agent is Lilly’s source?”

Andie leaned closer, tightening her figurative grip on Lilly. “You don’t want to mess with this man,” Andie said to her. “He’s ruthless and has his own agenda. Trust me, your safety and well-being are not high on his list of priorities.”

“I know that,” said Lilly, her voice flat. “It’s all very disturbing, the way he talks to me.”

“What does he say?” I asked.

“He uses very affectionate language, which is totally out of place. He tells me all the time that he is protecting me. He’ll call me ‘Love,’ or he’ll tell me how much I need him.”

“That’s a ruse,” said Andie. “I told you: he’s a former government agent. He understands how psychological profiling works in law enforcement. If he comes across as a lovesick puppy, it’s only to confuse us about his real motivations.”

“That would actually be a relief, if you’re right,” said Lilly.

“You should operate on the assumption that you can’t believe a thing he says,” Andie said.

“But that’s not exactly right, either,” said Lilly. “Apart from the lovesick stuff, just about everything he’s told me has been right on the money.”

“Like what?” asked Andie.

“He told me that it was Robledo who opened the numbered account at BOS/Singapore. That was true, whether the bank will admit it or not. He told me Patrick was really Tony Mandretti’s son. That was true. He told me-”

She stopped, which brought Andie and me to the edge of our seats.

“He told you what?” asked Andie, pressing. “I want to know everything he’s told you.”

“And he promised to kill me if I tell anyone.”

“That’s not a threat to be taken lightly, given the intelligence that’s been gathered on him. I can see what a toll this is taking on you, emotionally and physically. If you work with me, we can bring this nightmare to an end.”

Lilly glanced at Andie, then at me.

“What do you say, Lilly?” asked Andie.

“First, I need to talk to Patrick,” she said, “alone.”

L illy and I felt a blast of the cold winter night as Andie opened the door and left the Tearrific café. I watched through the plate glass window, and my gaze followed her across narrow Mott Street. She disappeared into the darkness, but I noticed the lighted red awning above the Fong Inn, which in bold white letters advertised P UTO and H OT T AO. Puto is a steamed rice cake, but under my rough understanding of Spanish slang and Chinese menus, linking it with “hot tao” created the literal multilingual equivalent of “way-hot male prostitute.” Talk about lost in translation.

“What are you looking at?” asked Lilly.

I didn’t even attempt an explanation. “Nothing,” I said. “What did you want to tell me?”

Lilly sat up straight, preparing her words. “You heard me tell Agent Henning that my source claims to be protecting me, but it goes further than that.”

“You mean all the lovesick remarks he makes?”

“No, not that. I think Henning’s take on that is probably right: he’s playing to a profile stereotype just to confuse me. What I mean is that he’s not just protecting me: he blames you-wants to blame you for everything that happened at the bank. And he cautions me to keep my distance from you so that the blame doesn’t spill over to me.”

“Strange as that sounds, the notion of putting distance between us actually jibes with the warning I got in the park. The guy who attacked me told me to stay away from you.”

“Basically he thinks that I got used. First by Gerry Collins. Then by you.”

It was awkward to be among the “users,” but it suddenly turned into one of those “lightbulb” moments. “Your source leaked the Treasury memo,” I said, energized by the realization.

“What?”

“Robledo had to have gotten that memo from someone in Treasury. Your source is a former government agent. He leaked the Treasury memo, and Robledo showed it to you. Your source is the one who put you on Robledo’s radar.”

“But if he’s the one who put me in danger, why would he be protecting me?”

“He’s got your back,” I said, as things suddenly came clear to me.

“What does that mean?”

“My bet is that he leaked the Treasury memo for some other purpose-to hurt somebody else. Putting you in danger wasn’t his intention. Protecting you is what he’s all about right now.”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it. Clearly, he doesn’t believe the statement in the memo about your being the best lead on the Cushman money. He called Collins a user. Now your source thinks I know where the money is, and he says I’m using you to get there. In his eyes, I’m as bad as Gerry Collins.”

“I still don’t see how that adds up to his having my back.”

“He was an undercover agent who ended up shot. He got used on the front end of Operation BAQ, just like you did. He’s out to punish everyone who was behind Operation BAQ-the users. Leaking the Treasury memo was part of a bigger agenda. Putting you in danger wasn’t. Collins got his punishment. He’s here to make sure I get mine. He wants to make sure you don’t get used in the process. He’s not in love with you. He’s got your back.”

I could almost see her head spinning. “Give me that again,” she said. “You’re saying Collins was part of Operation BAQ?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Her expression soured. “I knew Gerry. He was definitely not an FBI agent.”

“Of course not. He was a scumbag who fed billions of dollars to the biggest Ponzi scheme in history. I can easily see a situation where someone in the FBI or Treasury came to him and gave him the option of going to jail for the rest of his life or playing along with Operation BAQ-whatever it is.”