Russell Andrews - Hades

The only difference was that Fenwick's travels had been curtailed about five months earlier. Ron LaSalle had continued to travel, making repeat appearances in many of the cities, up until a week or so before he was killed.

Reggie and Justin then listed the people and things that were physically missing. This list wasn't long but it was daunting: Murder weapon used on Evan Harmon (blunt, clublike instrument) Ellis St. John's computer Ellis St. John

Reggie had wanted to include Bruno on the missing list but Justin pointed out that he couldn't be truly considered missing because they had yet to make a concerted effort to find or even contact him. Reggie concurred, and they agreed to leave him off the list for the time being.

And finally they listed the things they just plain didn't know or understand and couldn't connect to any other facts or events: Who stole Kelley's stun gun to use in Harmon's murder? Meaning of Wanda's final message: Hades and Ali Who is the Asian woman? What is her role? Why was Wanda keeping her investigation of Evan Harmon and Ron LaSalle quiet within the FBI? Why did Pietro Lambrasco try to kill Bruno? Does Leonardo Rubenelli have a direct connection to any or all of the murders? Who was Wanda's inside source on this investigation?

It was Justin who insisted on adding that last line. He knew Wanda well, he said. Knew the way she worked. She never attempted an investigation of this potential scope-something big enough to link organized crime to Wall Street-without having some sort of inside contact. He told Reggie he'd bet her everything he owned on it. She said, "No, but I'd like to bet a dinner." When he looked up, confused, she said, "If you're wrong you have to have dinner with me. My treat. I'll find someplace expensive where you don't have to wear a tie."

Justin smiled sadly-or maybe it was just kindly, Reggie thought-and shook his head. "No bet," he told her. "Sorry. But… you know what? I don't have to explain. That's just not going to happen, though. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's not necessary. No dinner, no socializing. Okay?"

She nodded, for the first time embarrassed in front of him. And then she did her best to recover, cleared her throat and said, "We've got to get somebody looking at the Ascension trades, see what the exchange of moneys is all about." He nodded in agreement; she thought he was embarrassed, too. Then she said, "And we've got to go through Ellis's e-mails. There are a lot of them, but they might turn something up."

"Why don't you take the e-mails?" he said. "I think I've got the right guy to examine the trades."

"Your father's guy?"

"Roger."

"Can he do it quickly?"

"I'll try to get him down this afternoon. If he can't, we'll see if your guys can help. But Roger knows a hell of a lot. And what he doesn't know, he'll research to death."

"And what about you?"

"I need a little time to think."

She cocked her head and both shook her head and grinned the smallest of grins. She couldn't help herself. "You've got something."

"No," he said, "just a few things nagging at me."

"What?"

"I don't know," he said. "I can't tell yet. Maybe nothing."

Reggie hesitated. She saw the quick look of discomfort cross his face; he was worried she was going to bring up a social dinner again, so she quickly said, "Listen, there's something I'm supposed to do, but I want to check with you first." He waited and she went on, "I have to report in to Zach Fletcher."

"Okay."

"Here's the thing. On this type of case, they like to work with the local authorities. So he'll tell Silverbush at least some of what we know."

"You're asking me because…?"

"I'm asking you because I want to make sure it's all right with you before I do it. I don't know how you feel about information getting back to the DA. And I thought you'd want to tell me if there's some specific information you'd like us to hold back."

He thought about it for a moment. "Go ahead," he said.

"With everything?" And when he nodded, she said, "You sure?"

"Pretty sure," Justin told her. "Either his head'll start spinning when he realizes this case has moved so far beyond him, or he'll just go blindly on and dig his own grave."

"An even deeper one than he's already been digging, you mean."

"Exactly."

"If we bring him in, you realize it means there's a chance the link between Harmon and LaSalle and Wanda might become public."

He nodded again. "It's all right. Maybe it should now. Keeping it to ourselves hasn't helped us much. Maybe it'll bring something out we haven't been able to uncover."

Her head bobbed up and down a bit in agreement. Then she gathered up the stack of printed e-mails. "Might as well go over these at the motel, huh?"

He knew she wanted him to ask her to stay and work with him. But he didn't. So she said she'd check in later. Justin looked at his watch. 11 a.m. He went to the phone.

"Dad," he said when he was put through to his father's office. "I'm wondering if I can borrow Roger Mallone."

"You coming up?" Jonathan Westwood asked.

"I was kind of hoping he'd come down."

"When?"

"I thought I'd try to hire a plane to get him here as soon as possible."

"Today?"

"Right now."

"You paying him?" Jonathan asked.

"Aren't you?" Justin responded. And he thought he almost got a laugh. He didn't. But almost.

"What time do you want him there?" Jonathan said.

Roger Mallone was four or five years younger than Justin. Parts of him-his face, his ruddy complexion, particularly his eyes, which didn't have much sadness or much introspection-looked a lot younger than Justin. But Justin was surprised to see that his father's employee's body had started to look like an old man's. He'd put on weight, and his arms were looking heavy and fleshy. He couldn't yet be described as having gone to seed, but he was on his way. Since the last time Justin had seen him, just around a year earlier, Roger looked like he'd gone from being a tennis player to being a golfer. He was thirty-five and looked forty. Justin thought that, at this rate, Roger would be a forty-year-old who looked fifty. And at fifty he'd look sixty-five. Maybe this was the price of success. Justin sucked in his own gut and made a mental note that he'd get back to the gym as soon as possible. And maybe even start yoga lessons again.

Roger was Jonathan Westwood's chief financial officer. He had rapidly moved up the corporate ladder to become the elder Westwood's most trusted adviser at the banks Jonathan owned and ran. Mallone was as thorough as a money man could be and equally honest and hardworking. Justin figured the guy never slept because you could name any stock, any company, any business-related matter at all, and Roger could immediately give you the up-to-the-second latest information on the subject.

The one thing Roger Mallone wasn't was brave. Justin had brought him into a collision course with two earlier cases and, while Roger had proved invaluable both times, he was not happy with his proximity to danger. The first time Roger had been dragged in unwillingly-at gunpoint, in fact. And the gun had been held by Justin. The second time Roger had, more or less, volunteered; but he'd crossed paths with Bruno and, at their first encounter, a frightened Roger had done just about everything but piss in his pants. Justin was fairly sure that the man's bladder had not yet fully recovered.

This third time around, however, Roger was being as cooperative as it was possible to be. Perhaps it was because he felt safe this time-Justin had assured him that there was no immediate danger lurking around the corner. Or perhaps it was because Roger had, to Justin's surprise, been accompanied on this trip by Jonathan Westwood.