Julia Spencer-Fleming - One Was a Soldier

Trip nodded.

“Somehow, she got hold of the invoices on the accounts-receivable side.” Russ held up one of the coalition forms. “I doubt she was ever meant to see these. She put the two side by side and saw BWI Opperman was buying and shipping about a sixth of what they were billing the government for.”

“You mean they were pocketing the difference?” Will said.

Eric took the copy of the contract from Stillman. “Holy shit. That’s fifty million dollars.” The sum seemed to hang in the air for a moment.

“Fifty million dollars,” Will said, “and they just disappeared it into a bunch of papers.”

“The company wouldn’t even have needed to suborn the folks who hand out the contracts,” Clare said. “All they needed to buy was the army clerk who created the invoices and the finance investigator who was there to prevent fraud.”

“It sure explains Seelye’s actions, doesn’t it?” Russ’s voice was dry. “No wonder she wasn’t interested in splitting the million with Nichols. She was already on the BWI Opperman payroll.”

“They must have promised to pay Tally off, too.” Eric turned toward Russ. “Do you think they screwed her over after she did her part? Is that why she stole the cash?”

“No. She got paid. With Wyler McNabb’s job.” Clare looked at Eric. “Tally’s mother said Wyler always felt he owed his job to Tally. That was her payoff. He went from being a high school dropout to having an income that bought them luxury SUVs and casino vacations.”

Russ nodded. “He knew about the contract fraud. He didn’t know Seelye, but he knew about the fraud. That’s probably why he got named manager. One less person outside the fold. When she deployed a second time, her husband went over with the crew.”

“Huh.” Eric picked up the contract again. “And then he sees the money the DOD’s flying in and starts thinking, Why shouldn’t I get mine? If his wife can cover up the theft of fifty million, it’s a cinch she can hide a single pallet of cash.”

Russ chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’ll bet you a million of my own Opperman and Seelye had no idea that money had been stolen. They must have been shitting bricks when Nichols started investigating.” He tilted his head toward Flora and Olivia. “Excuse my French.”

“Wait.” Clare dropped the paper she had been holding. “Opperman?”

“ Mr. Opperman?” Olivia’s eyes were wide.

“Who do you think was behind this? The man is the CEO and controlling shareholder. He owns the company. The real theft here isn’t shrink-wrapped cash. It’s fifty million dollars, and it wasn’t stolen by someone seducing an MP or sweating a pallet onto a cargo plane. It was stolen by people wearing suits and signing agreements in air-conditioned offices. It was stolen by someone who believes people can be bought and sold with gifts and jobs and, and”-he looked at Olivia-“four-year scholarships to SUNY Geneseo.”

“No.” The girl went pale. “Oh, no.” Her aunt put an arm around her shoulder.

Russ leaned forward and braced himself on the rickety table, his large hands spread protectively over the documents there. “But Ellen Bain wouldn’t be bought. She assembled this evidence, and she brought it to the one soldier she knew she could trust. Her brother.”

Clare could picture it. Ellen Bain, picking her brother’s brain for information on the military police and the financial affairs divisions, entrusting the package to him, swearing him to secrecy. Not knowing that within a day or two, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone even if he wanted to.

“Why didn’t I warn her?” Trip’s voice cracked. “If we talked about all this, why didn’t I call the police and keep her here until the law took over?”

Clare ached for the self-accusation in his voice. She knew what it was like to ask Why didn’t I? after it was all too late. “You couldn’t have known, Trip. She probably thought she was risking her job and her benefits, not her life.”

Russ nodded. “Opperman may not have known she smuggled this stuff out, anyway. He probably thought killing her and purging the original files would be enough to protect him.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying John Opperman killed Ellen?” Trip sounded torn between disbelief and fury.

“No.” Russ shook his head. “I’m quite sure he was somewhere else surrounded by unimpeachable witnesses when your sister’s brake calipers were cut. He delegates his dirty work. My bet’s on Wyler McNabb. He was shipped over to the construction team in Iraq as soon as we started investigating.”

“Can you get him back?” Will asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Russ grinned, baring his eyeteeth. “And when we do, he’s going to give us John Opperman on a silver platter.”

It seemed anticlimactic to Clare. They had uncovered evidence of a fifty-million-dollar scam. There ought to be screeching police cars and flashing lights and people led away in handcuffs. Instead, it was Russ, on the phone, first with his friend from the Judge Advocate General’s Corps, then with an officer at the Department of Defense. He was talking with a Treasury agent when Lyle MacAuley and Kevin Flynn arrived, toting piles of plastic evidence envelopes, a laptop, and a portable scanner. He was debriefing someone from the Government Accountability Office when the FBI team from Albany pulled in. The Feds walked into Trip Stillman’s office looking skeptical and came out with sharp, satisfied smiles.

Clare, who had been drinking cup after cup of hot, sweet coffee in the Stillmans’ kitchen, snagged Russ before he had the chance to pick up his phone again. “When are they going to arrest Opperman?”

He looked startled. “I don’t know. Another couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks?” She lowered her voice. Olivia Bain sat disconsolate at the kitchen table, Will holding her hand. “Why so long? My God, Russ, you said it yourself. That man is responsible for Ellen Bain’s death.”

He put his phone in his pocket. “I know. Believe me, I’d love to drive up to the resort right now and haul his ass in.” He took her hand, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “But this is going to be a very complicated case. I’m not even talking about all the agencies who are going to want a piece of the action. We need to have every piece of evidence lined up, every warrant signed, and every cop and agent in place, ready to drop the hammer on everyone involved. Until that moment, you”-he gestured toward the Stillmans with his head-“and they have to keep quiet about all of this.”

“Justice delayed is justice denied.”

“It won’t be. I promise you, there will be justice for Ellen Bain.”

“What about Tally? Will there be justice for her?”

“Clare.” Russ’s voice was gentle. “She knew from Nichols that an investigator was closing in. She didn’t know it was Seelye. All she knew was that she was holding the bag for massive federal fraud and grand theft and she had nowhere to turn.”

“She could have turned to Opperman.”

“His solution was to send her back to Iraq. Maybe she would have had an ‘accident’ like Ellen Bain did. Maybe that’s what she was afraid of.”

Her voice rose. “So she killed herself?”

Russ steered her into the family room. “If she were alive right now, she’d be facing thirty years in Leavenworth and the loss of everything-family, home, money, reputation.”

“If she were alive right now, none of this would ever have come to light!”

“I know.” He didn’t try to argue with her or persuade her. He just stood there, his grip warm and steady. Letting her hold the truth in her hands. Letting her raise it up and swallow it. It was cold, very cold, and no amount of sugar could sweeten its bitter taste.