The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [62]
“Spare me the Constitution. These two are dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Nguyen said with a laugh. “I hear they sent you and DeSanctis chasing buses all afternoon…”
Gallo ignored the joke. “You helping or not?”
Nguyen shook his head. “Don’t give me crap, Gallo. What you’re asking for is no small affair.”
“Neither is stealing three hundred million dollars and killing a former agent,” Gallo shot back.
“Yeah… I’m sorry to hear about that,” Nguyen said, no longer willing to argue. He put away his legal pad, knowing better than to take notes. The last thing he needed was a judge making him hand them over to opposing counsel. “So getting back to your request,” he added, “have you already exhausted the rest?”
“C’mon, Nguyen…”
“You know I have to ask it, Jimmy. When it comes to wiretaps and video, I can’t pull out the big guns until you tell me you’ve gone through all your other investigative means—including all the credit card and phone records I subpoenaed for you this morning.”
Gallo paused and forced his best grin. “I wouldn’t lie to you, buddy—we’re keeping this one on the complete up-and-up.”
Nguyen nodded. That was all he needed. “You’re really going after these two, aren’t you?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Gallo said. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
* * * *
“Omnibank Fraud Department—this is Elena Ratner. How can I assist you?”
“Hi, Ms. Ratner,” Gallo said into his cell phone as his navy Ford hugged the right lane of the Brooklyn Bridge. “This is Agent Gallo with the United States Secret Ser—”
“Of course, Agent Gallo—sorry to take so long getting back to you. We just got your paperwork…”
“So it’s all taken care of?” he interrupted.
“Absolutely, sir. We’ve flagged and notated both accounts—an Omnibank MasterCard for a Mr. Oliver J. Caruso, and an Omnibank Visa for a Mr. Charles Caruso,” she said, reading off both account numbers. “Now are you sure you don’t want them shut down?”
“Ms. Ratner,” Gallo scolded through gritted teeth, “if the cards get shut down, how’m I supposed to see what they’re buying and where they’re going?”
There was a pause on the other line. This was why she hated dealing with law enforcement. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said dryly. “From here on in, we’ll notify you as soon as either of them makes a purchase.”
“And how long will that notification take?”
“By the time they get their approval code, our computer will have already dialed your number,” she added. “It’s instantaneous.”
* * * *
“Hi, this is Fudge,” the answering machine whirred. “I’m not here right now, unless of course you’re a telemarketer, in which case, I am here and I’m screening you because, quite honestly, your friendship means nothing to me. I have no time for hangers-on. Leave a message at the sound of the beep.”
“Fudge, I know you’re there,” Joey shouted into the answering machine. “Pick up, pick up, pic—!”
“Ah, Lady Guinevere, thou doth sing the song of the enchantress,” Fudge crooned, careful not to use Joey’s name.
Joey rolled her eyes, refusing to get into it. When it came to cutouts, it was better not to get involved. And when it came to Fudge, well… it’d always been her policy not to get too close to men who still go by the name of their favorite Judy Blume character.
“So what can I do for you this evening? Business or pleasure?”
“Do you still know that guy at Omnibank?” Joey asked.
Fudge paused. “Maybe.”
Joey nodded at the code. That was yes. It was always yes. Indeed, that’s what the cutout business was all about: knowing people. And not just any people. Angry people. Bitter people. Passed-over-for-promotion people. In every office, there’s someone who’s miserable with their job. Those were the ones anxious to sell what they knew. And that’s who Fudge could find.
“If I could, what would you be looking for?” Fudge asked. “Client records?”
“Yeah… but I also need monitors on two accounts.”
“Uh-oh, big money talking here…”
“If you can’t handle it,” Joey warned.