Дэвид Балдаччи - The Collectors

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning call your money guy in here.”

Bagger looked at her suspiciously for a moment and then picked up the phone.

The man appeared a minute later. “Yes, sir?”

Annabelle took a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Pull this account up on your computer. It’s at El Banco del Caribe. That’s a onetime password along with the account number. And come back and tell Mr. Bagger the balance in that account.”

The man looked at Bagger, who nodded. The man left and returned a few minutes later.

“Well?” Bagger said impatiently.

“Three million twelve thousand dollars and sixteen cents, sir.”

Bagger stared at Annabelle, the new respect clear in his gaze. He waved his money guy gone. After the door had shut, he said, “Okay, you’ve got my attention.”

“To further allay people’s concerns, we usually do a trial run or runs, as the case may be.”

“You mentioned that. How does it work?”

“You park money at El Banco for two days in an account of our designation; you collect the ‘interest,’ and then the money is put back into your account at your home bank.”

“How much money are we talking?”

“A million is typical. The money you wire down gets ‘mingled’ with other funds. After two days you walk away with a hundred grand in profit. You can do it every two days if you want.”

“Mingled? Don’t you mean finessed ?” Bagger said.

She raised her glass. “You learn fast.”

Yet Bagger was scowling. “You want me to put a million bucks of my money in an account of your designation and wait two days for my money plus interest to come floating back to me? Do I look like I got cowshit for brains?”

Annabelle sat down next to him and gently touched his arm. “I tell you what, Jerry, I can call you Jerry, can’t I?”

“I’ll let it slide for now.”

“For the two days your money is hanging out there, my associate and I will stay here at your hotel, with your boys watching us night and day. If your money doesn’t come back into your account with interest just like I’m telling you, we’re all yours. And I don’t know about you, but public servant or not, I like my life way too much to give it up for a bunch of money that I’ll never even see.”

He looked her up and down, shook his head, rose and walked over to the window and looked out through the bulletproof glass. “This has got to be the craziest damn thing I’ve ever heard. And I’m a nutcase for even listening to it.”

“It’s not crazy when you look at the world today. Things have to be done to protect this country, action that is not always completely legal or popular. If the American people knew what really went on?” She shrugged. “But that’s not my field task. My job is to make sure the money gets to where it needs to go. In exchange for your help, you get paid an extraordinary premium, it’s that simple.”

“But this money is all electronic. Why do you have to launder it?”

“Even digital dollars can be traced, Jerry. In fact, they can do it more easily than with real cash. The funds need to be commingled with other sources of money that are nongovernmental. It all gets washed out electronically, sort of like wiping fingerprints off a gun. Then the funds can go to where they’re needed.”

“And you say Vegas already does this? So if I call up and ask—”

She interrupted him. “They’ll tell you nothing because that’s what they’ve been instructed to do.” She rose and stood beside him. “There’s tremendous upside for you here, Jerry, but there’s a downside too. And let me just lay that out for you. It’s only fair that you know.”

She led him back to the couch. “If it ever comes to certain people’s attention that you’ve told anyone about this arrangement—”

Bagger laughed. “Don’t threaten me, little girl. I invented the art of intimidation.”

“This isn’t intimidation, Jerry,” she said quietly, her gaze directly on him. “If you tell anyone about this arrangement, men will come for you wherever you might be. These men will have no fear of anyone you could possibly hire to protect you. They are not bound by the laws of any country, and they will kill anyone remotely close to you, man, woman or child. Then they’ll take you away.” She paused to let this sink in. “I’ve been in the business a long time, and done some things that would probably surprise even you, but these are men I would never want to face, even with a squad of Navy SEALs surrounding me. They aren’t the best of the best, Jerry. They are the worst of the absolute scum. And your last memory will be how could it have hurt so damn much.”

Bagger exploded, “These whack jobs are on our government’s payroll! No wonder we’re so screwed up.” When he took a sip of his bourbon, both Annabelle and Leo noted that his hand shook a bit. “So why the hell would I—” Bagger began.

Anticipating what he was going to say, she cut in. “But as I told my superiors, Jerry Bagger won’t talk. He’ll just collect his exorbitant profits and keep his mouth shut. I don’t throw darts at names on a wall, Jerry. Guys like you are ideal for our purposes. You’ve got brains, guts, money, and you don’t mind playing close to the edge.” She studied Bagger closely and added, “I’d hate to give the action to one of the other casinos, Jerry, but my mission is clear.”

After another minute he grinned and patted her leg. “I’m as patriotic as the next son of a bitch. So what the hell, let’s do it.”

The Camel Club held a hastily called meeting at Stone’s cottage at the cemetery the morning following their visit to DeHaven’s home. Stone explained to Milton and Caleb in greater detail what had happened the night before.

“They could be watching us right now,” a frightened Caleb said as he glanced out the window.

“I would be astonished if they weren’t,” Stone replied calmly.

His cottage was small and sparsely furnished: an old bed, a large, beaten-up desk covered with papers and journals, shelves of books in various languages, all of which Stone spoke, a small kitchen with a battered table, a tiny bathroom and a scattering of mismatched chairs arranged around the large fireplace that was the cottage’s main source of heat.

“And that doesn’t concern you?” Milton asked.

“It would have concerned me much more had they tried to kill me, which they easily could have despite Reuben’s heroics.”

“So what now?” Reuben asked. He stood in front of the fireplace, trying to work the chill off. He checked his watch. “I need to get to work.”

Caleb added, “So do I.”

Stone said, “Caleb, I need to get inside the vault at the library. Is that possible?”

Caleb looked uncertain. “Well, under normal conditions it would be. I mean, I have the authority to take people into the vaults, but I’ll be questioned as to why. They don’t really like people just bringing in friends and family without advance notice. And with Jonathan’s death restrictions are even tighter.”

“What if the visitor was a scholar from overseas?” Stone asked.

“Well, of course, that’s different.” He glanced at Stone. “What foreign scholar do you know?”

Reuben broke in. “I think he’s talking about himself, Caleb.”

Caleb looked sternly at his friend. “Oliver! I cannot possibly assist in perpetrating a fraud on the Library of Congress, for God’s sake.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I believe we are now the targets of some very dangerous people because we’re involved with Jonathan DeHaven. So we need to find out whether his death was natural or not. And looking at the place where he died may help me determine that.”