The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [58]
“… that’s why people come to us in the first place,” Charlie adds, quickly catching on. “So with a specialty like that, there’s gotta be someone here who’s figured out how to make an account look like one thing and actually be another. Yes, Mr. Duckworth, your balance is three million dollars—wink, wink, nudge, nudge.”
“Stupid us, when Mary transferred the balance, we got the whole megillah.”
Staring at the candles, we both kick our way through the logic. “It’s not bad…” Charlie admits. “But for an insider to pull that off…”
“I don’t think it was just an insider, Charlie—whoever it was, they were getting help…”
“Gallo and his buddy in the Service?”
“You heard what Shep said—he wasn’t the one who called them in. They showed up the moment their money went poof.”
We simultaneously nod our heads. It’s not a bad theory. “So they were in on it from the start?” Charlie asks.
“You tell me: What’s the likelihood that two Secret Service agents would wander into a case and then kill Shep just to turn a quick buck? I don’t care how much money’s at stake, Gallo and DeSanctis weren’t randomly assigned. They came to protect their investment.”
“Maybe they were on the take, selling their services…”
“Maybe they’ve been working with the bank all along.”
“You mean like money laundering?” Charlie asks.
I shrug, still thinking it through. “Whatever it was, these guys had their hands in something bad, something big… and something that, if all went right, would’ve netted them three hundred and thirteen million George Washingtons.”
“Not a bad day’s work,” Charlie agrees. “So who do you think they were scheming with?”
“Hard to say. All I know is, you can’t spell Secret Service without Secret.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t spell Asshole without Lapidus or Quincy,” Charlie says, pointing a finger.
“I don’t know,” I say doubtfully. “You saw their reactions—they were even more scared than we were.”
“Yeah… because you, me, and everyone else were watching. Actors don’t exist without an audience. Besides, if it wasn’t Lapidus or Quincy, who could it possibly be?”
“Mary,” I challenge.
Charlie stops, stroking an imagined goatee on his chin. “Not a bad call.”
“I’m telling you, it could’ve been anyone. Though it still leaves us with the original question: Where’d Duckworth get three hundred and thirteen million?” The candles continue their dance. I stay quiet.
“Why don’t you ask the man himself?” Charlie says.
“Duckworth? He’s dead.”
“You sure about that?” Charlie asks, cocking an eyebrow. “If everything else is a hall of mirrors, what makes you think this is the only wall?”
It’s a good point. Actually, it’s a great point. “Do you still have his…”
Charlie reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded-up sheet of paper. “That’s the beauty of rewearing yesterday’s slacks,” he says. “I’ve got it right… here.” Unfolding the paper, he reveals the Duckworth address that was on the Midland National Bank account: 405 Amsterdam Avenue. With his fuse lit, he takes off for the door.
“Charlie…” I whisper. “Maybe it’s better to go to the police.”
“Why—so they can turn us over to the Service, who’ll put bullets in both our heads? No offense, Ollie, but the fact that we have the money… and the way they set us up with Shep—no one’s gonna believe a word.”
I close my eyes, trying to paint a different picture. But all I see is Shep’s blood… all over our hands. It doesn’t matter what we say. Even I wouldn’t believe us. Stepping backwards, I take a seat on the bench. “We’re dead, aren’t we?”
“Don’t say that,” Charlie scolds. I’m not sure if it’s denial or little-brother stubbornness, but I’ll take it either way. “If we find Duckworth… that’s our first step to finding answers,” he insists. “This is our chance to shake the Magic Eight-Ball. I’m not giving that up.” Yanking the door open, he disappears into the sanctuary.
Turning toward the votive stand, I watch the melted wax trickle down the necks of the candles. It doesn’t take long for each one to burn down. Just a little time. That’s all we have.
20
Turning onto Oliver’s block and