Harlan Coben - Play Dead

‘Just for a little while,’ he assured her. ‘It’s a superstitious thing with me. I’m afraid if we tell the world something bad will happen.’

She had bought it. And besides, Gloria made an ideal safety valve in case something went wrong or if he needed another score. She had plenty of dough of her own.

They headed out of the hotel together. When they reached the street, Stan faced her. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

Gloria nodded, her face beaming.

He bent down and kissed her passionately.

Across the street, a jogger wearing an Adidas sweatsuit watched the kiss from behind his zoom lens. He snapped a few more pictures and then he picked up the phone and dialed.

‘What have you got?’

‘He and Gloria Ayars just left,’ he replied. ‘They appeared rather chummy.’

‘Keep following Baskin.’

‘Okay, but I want to know what this is all about.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Just keep following him and call in if he does anything unusual.’

The jogger shrugged. ‘Whatever you say, T.C.’

The phone buzzed.

‘Yes, Estelle.’

‘John Bort is here to see you.’

‘Send him in.’

John Bort opened the door. ‘You wanted to see me, boss?’

‘Yes, John. Come in.’

‘Something wrong with the security?’

‘No, not at all,’ Laura assured him.

‘This place is wired better than Fort Knox, you know.’

‘You’re doing a super job, John. Please have a seat.’

‘Thanks, boss.’

‘You can call me Laura.’

‘I prefer boss.’

She shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

‘What can I do for you?’ he asked.

Laura tilted back her chair. ‘You used to work for the FBI, right?’

‘Thirty-three years with the agency,’ he replied.

‘So you’ve seen it all in your time.’

‘Just about. What’s this all about, boss?’

‘My question deals with a bank transaction.’

‘Huh?’

‘Let me give you a hypothetical situation,’ she continued. ‘Suppose a large sum of money vanished – ’

‘Large amounts of money just don’t vanish, boss.’

‘True. Let’s suppose a man transferred this large sum to Switzerland and they transferred it elsewhere. Now the man dies and there is no way to track down the money. What would you do?’

He thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure, boss. The man probably wanted to hide his money. Could be that he was afraid someone was after it – you know, a relative or something – and he wanted to make sure they couldn’t get their hands on it. Or it could be that he had a mistress someplace and he wanted to take care of her without the family knowing about it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, let’s say he knew he was going to die, right? His family would have a claim to the money. But he wants to leave a certain amount to somebody else without letting his family in on what he’s doing.’

‘Pretty far-fetched.’

‘True enough, but I know a couple of guys who did it. Hell, if you think that’s far-fetched, you oughta hear about the case in 1972 that was like this.’

‘What happened?’ Laura asked.

John Bort adjusted himself in the chair. ‘This big informer dies in a fire right before giving his testimony. Arson. Knocked off by the mob, we figured. But something is weird: his money vanishes. Well, my partner and I check it out, check all over, but we can’t locate the funds. Guess what happens?’

‘What?’

‘Two years later the same informer turns up dead… again! The son of a bitch hid all his money and then faked his own death! And we fell for it! He moved his money to Ireland and was living there under an assumed name for all that time. And we never knew. Unfortunately for him, the mob didn’t fall for it. Somehow, they managed to find him.’ John sat back with a smile and shook his head in disbelief. ‘Ain’t that the weirdest thing you ever heard?’

Laura did not respond. She was already dialing T.C.’s number.

The patient pushed the barbell over his head.

‘That’s enough for today,’ the nurse said.

The patient lowered the bar and shook his head. ‘Not by a long shot.’

‘You’re going to overdue it.’

The patient struggled and the bar went over his head. He was a bit out of shape but not nearly as bad as he feared. ‘No chance.’

‘You are being very stubborn.’

The patient performed two more repetitions. ‘I’ve been cooped up in that goddamn bed for too long. I need to do a little exercise.’

‘This is all highly irregular. We are supposed to imagine that this place is a hospital, not a health spa.’ She moved over toward the curtain. ‘Why don’t you go for a walk outside? The only people who will see you are the locals.’

The patient looked surprised. ‘I can start going outside?’

She sighed. ‘If you promise not to overdo it.’ She opened the closet and reached in. ‘The doctor told me not to give this to you until you were ready.’

The patient put down the weights and watched her.

‘Here,’ the nurse said. ‘The doctor said you would be anxious to get your hands on this.’

With a small grunt, she tossed the patient a basketball.

‘I’m glad you called, Laura,’ T.C. began as he entered her office. He was too jittery to sit on Laura’s plush office furniture, so he paced around the room. ‘I also wanted to talk to you.’

‘About what?’

‘You go first.’

She too was feeling somewhat jittery, but she stayed in her chair and performed her customary leg shake. She was not sure what she wanted to say. Nothing made sense anymore but maybe T.C. could help her figure out what was going on. Maybe T.C. could tell her why a man who knew nothing of finance worked out an elaborate scheme to have money disappear just days (or even hours) before his death. ‘Do you know John Bort?’

‘Your security chief? Sure. Good man. Hell of a storyteller.’

‘Did you know he used to work for the FBI?’

‘Sure.’

‘Well, I asked him about the disappearing account.’

T.C. looked surprised. ‘You told him about it?’

‘No. I asked him about a hypothetical situation similar to ours.’

‘What did he say?’

Laura told him about her short conversation with John Bort. When she finished, T.C. was more fidgety than ever.

‘So what are you trying to say, Laura?’

‘Nothing, I wanted your opinion.’

T.C. finally sat down. ‘David’s dead. You’ve got to come to terms with it.’

‘I know that, but I want to know why he moved his money.’

‘Like John said, maybe he had a reason for hiding it that we aren’t aware of.’

Laura did not buy that. ‘And where did he get this sudden know-how about transferring funds?’

‘I don’t know. He could have gone to some big money expert or something.’

‘And the timing? Isn’t that a hell of a coincidence?’

T.C. took out a cigar, fighting to remain calm. ‘So what do you think, Laura? I saw his body. David is dead. His ghost did not break into your house and rip up a photograph of his father. His ghost is not drinking Margaritas in Tahiti, living off secret bank accounts. There are a million more logical possibilities.’

The phone buzzed. ‘Laura?’

‘What is it, Estelle?’

‘The accountant is here with the check for Mr Baskin.’

‘I’ll be with him in a minute.’

T.C.’s pale face gained color in a hurry. ‘A check for Stan Baskin? What the hell is going on?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re giving money to Stan Baskin?’

‘Just drop it. You said you had something important to tell me.’

‘Laura, you can’t give him money.’

Laura wished he had never overheard Estelle’s announcement. ‘Like it or not, Stan Baskin is David’s only living relative. He’s entitled to some of his estate.’