Found Money - James Grippando [77]
“You made it out smoothly, I presume,” said Norm.
“I told them exactly what you told me to say. Got their business cards, too. Forsyth is a field agent here in Denver. The other guy isn’t FBI. He’s from Washington. The criminal tax division of the IRS.”
“I figured it was only a matter of time before they showed up.” Norm steered onto the express-way ramp. “I’ve been doing a little legwork myself while you were traveling. Called a friend over at the U.S. attorney’s office.”
“What would they know about this?”
“In any investigation, the FBI’s legal counsel is an AUSA—an assistant U.S. attorney. A routine subpoena for documents, for example, would be handled at a ministerial level by a junior AUSA. But if your case was assigned to an AUSA who specializes in money laundering, for example, that would tell us something about the focus of the investigation.”
“What did you find out?”
“Your case is under the major crimes section.”
“Major?” he asked with concern.
“Don’t let the name fool you. Everything is major. It’s a slush pile for cases that are too new to be routed to a more defined area of specialization.”
“Where do you think it’s headed?”
“Could be strictly a tax investigation. You said your old man didn’t pay taxes on the money. Or if the FBI gets wind of the extortion, it could go to the public corruption section. If it’s money laundering they smell, it could go to economic crimes. Too early to tell.”
“All this because I pissed off a stupid bank officer at Banco del Istmo.”
“Actually, it wasn’t just him who brought in the FBI. From what I gathered from the AUSA, your wife’s lawyer is also behind it.”
“Jackson?”
Norm nodded as he changed lanes. “He’s in the hospital. Gonna be okay. Looks like Brent may have punched his lights out in retaliation for scheduling his deposition.”
“What a jerk.”
“You mean Jackson or Brent?”
“Both,” Ryan scoffed.
“Anyway, Jackson has managed to pitch this in a way that has piqued the FBI’s interest. Three million dollars in a Panamanian bank account isn’t necessarily front-page news. But when a high-powered attorney starts poking around and lands in the emergency room, it puts a different spin on the case. Especially a guy like Jackson. Believe it or not, he has friends. And if you’re not his friend, he probably has dirt on you. You remember that hypothetical I gave you about the photographs of the TV evangelist having sex with his German shepherd?”
“Yeah.”
“Jackson is the kind of guy who would actually have those photographs. File drawers full of things on everybody from the governor of Colorado to your pet goldfish. He’s like the J. Edgar Hoover of the legal profession. He can make things happen. And your brother-in-law Brent has given him every reason to pull out the stops.”
“Terrific. Does this mean Jackson knows about the money?”
“Only if someone at the FBI leaked it, which I doubt. But he’s sure getting close.”
They rode in silence for a moment. The city lights of downtown Denver were coming closer.
“What’s happening with the yearbook search? Find any millionaires in my dad’s high school class?”
“Nothing yet. Still working on it.”
“What about the Cayman corporation? I brought a lot of grief on myself trying to find out who transferred that money into my father’s account. I definitely want to follow up on that.”
“My investigator is on it. Hopefully he won’t actually have to go all the way to the Caymans.”
“How am I going to pay this investigator of yours? He’s racking up some serious hours.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s on retainer. You’ll just have to cover his out-of-pocket expenses.”
“How ’bout that. Some good news.”
“Don’t be so negative. Let’s hear what the FBI’s concerns are. If they say your dad owes back income tax, you pay the penalty and you’re on your way. We just don’t know yet.”
“You think the FBI knows about the two million in the attic?