Russell Andrews - Hades

"I hope Carl and Hud are being helpful."

"Yes," Justin said. "Extremely so."

"What can I help you with?"

Justin glanced over at Reggie, so she told Bannister what she needed. She wanted a record of Evan Harmon's travel over the past fifteen-month period, everywhere he went and who he went to see. She also wanted the same information for any of the associates at the firm who might have traveled to Canada, California, Russia, South Africa, and South America. She also asked for records of any business transactions that had been done with the LaSalle Group in Providence.

When she was finished, Bannister smiled evenly and said, "Of course. Would you mind telling us what you're looking for specifically? That might make it easier for us to give you what you want."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, Mr. Bannister. We'd like all the information in as complete a form as possible. We don't want you sifting through it or editing it for us."

"Absolutely. I wasn't trying to interfere. I simply thought it might help us be more efficient." He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Let me see… This will take some time-"

"We need this as quickly as possible," Reggie told him. "What would be the delay?"

"Well, the records aren't kept in the same place or by the same person. The travel plans, for instance, are made by each assistant individually."

"You don't use a central travel agent?" Justin asked.

"No, we don't," Bannister said. "And Evan's assistant will certainly have a record of some of his specific meetings but not every one. Evan did a lot of that himself."

"That-that's right," Fenwick chimed in. "He was kind of a con-control freak for his schedule."

"But I'll talk to Evan's assistant and see what she's got."

"And her name is?"

"Lisa."

"Lisa what?"

"Are you going to want to talk to her?" Bannister asked.

"Is that a problem?" Justin said.

"No, not really. It's just that she was so devastated by what happened. She really hasn't been functioning very well, and I don't know how she'd hold up to any kind of interrogation."

"This is hardly an interrogation," Reggie said.

"You know what I mean," Bannister said quickly. "I didn't mean that pejoratively. She's just very fragile right now. It's why we've given her some time off."

"Not a problem," Justin told him. "But I do need her last name for my records."

"Schwartz." This was Carl Matuszek who chimed in. "Lisa Schwartz."

"Thanks," Justin said. "Now how about the LaSalle transactions?"

"Now that might be a different matter," Bannister told them. When Reggie asked why that might be, he said, "Because there are questions of privacy. We can't simply open up our clients' financial transactions." And before Justin could get a word out, he went on, "Or our transactions on behalf of our clients."

"We can get a court order," Reggie said.

"I'm not sure that you can," Bannister said. "But you're certainly free to try. It's not that we don't want to do everything possible to help catch Evan's killer. Lord knows, we do. His death is the worst thing that's happened to this company and possibly the worst thing that's ever happened to me personally. But this company is also Evan's legacy, and I fear that releasing those kinds of documents could do us great harm."

"Totally understood," Justin said. "I don't blame you." He continued as Reggie stared at him in amazement. "And I think we've taken up enough of your time. If you'll just give us your cards so we can get in touch with you again and figure out how to get the travel info we need." He rose and took a business card from each man. Reggie hesitated before rising, too. As they were being escorted out by Bannister, who was going on again about the tragic loss of Evan Harmon, Justin saw a secretary working away expertly on her computer. He stopped as he passed the young woman's desk and said, "Excuse me just a second." He turned to Bannister and said, "Sorry, this doesn't have anything to do with Evan, but…" Turning back to the assistant, he said, "We're completely redoing our computer system at the police station. In fact, they've asked me to put together a recommendation for all of the various forces on the eastern part of Long Island. What kind of system do you use? We all want to be linked wirelessly."

She smiled, flattered that he'd picked her to talk to, and told him the system they were using.

"Mac or PC?" he asked.

"PC," she said and shrugged as if that wasn't her choice but what could she do?

He thanked her. Then he turned to Bannister and said, "You know, I forgot to ask you one thing: how involved is H. R. Harmon with the company these days?"

"He's not particularly involved."

"That's funny. At Rockworth, they told me that one of the reasons he left was to spend more time working with his son."

"Well… he has an office here, if that's what you mean. But he's hardly involved in our day-to-day operations."

"Even now? I would have thought he'd be very involved right now, making sure that things hold together."

"I'm… I keep him apprised of anything important, of course."

"So you're in touch with him?"

"Yes. But this is hardly his top priority right now."

"Of course. That's only natural." Justin smiled kindly. "Thank you. And I'm glad to see you're doing so much better than you were the other night."

"It still seems like a dream," Forrest Bannister said, "a nightmare, really."

"I'm sure it does," Justin said. "But the good thing about dreams is that everybody wakes up sooner or later."

"What was that all about?" Reggie asked. She waited until the moment they were out of the lobby and stepping onto the sweltering midtown sidewalk. "Suddenly you're Mr. Easygoing? Mr. Personality? Mr. Hey, Everything's Fine? What the hell-"

"Don't worry about me. What's with you and platinum, all of a sudden? He said the word, and I thought you were going to jump out of your chair."

She scowled. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just…" She made another face, scrunching up her mouth, then said, "The weirdest story of the year: Some state troopers in Texas found an overturned truck-there'd been an accident-and hidden in the back of the truck were platinum bars. A lot of them. Worth a few million dollars."

"You're kidding. What happened?"

"Nobody knows. It's not my case; I had absolutely nothing to do with it; I just read about it, and other agents were talking about it. The bars were unmarked, so not traceable. And even the driver wasn't traceable. He had a fake ID, there were no dental records, no prints. The truck had been stolen and we couldn't get any lead on that, either."

"Didn't anyone claim the platinum?"

"No. That's what's so crazy. There doesn't seem to be any theft involved-no one's stepped forward to say it belongs to them."

"Any idea where the truck was headed?"

"Into Mexico, apparently. But that's not much of a help."

"How could I not have heard of this? When was it?"

"About ten days ago. I don't know-a few days before Harmon was killed, that's probably why you didn't notice. It was big in Texas, I'm telling you. It made the paper here, a little story in the News. I saw it. I don't think it even made the Times."

"If the stuff was stolen, why wouldn't someone want it back? And if it wasn't stolen, why go to all that trouble of hiding it and trying to smuggle it? I mean, if that's what they were doing. It doesn't make sense."

"I know," she said, "and I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with this. It's just I hear the word 'platinum' and my ears perk up."

"Well, you hide it well. Every person in the building probably saw your ears perk up."

"All right, so I don't have a good poker face. But can we get back to your major suck-up job on Bannister? What were you doing?"