In Desperation

7

Phoenix, Arizona

A few miles north of Mesa Mirage, at the South Desert Bank amp; Trust, Bill Grover, the assistant manager, realigned the stapler and pen holder on his desk.

The two FBI agents sitting across from him were studying the files Grover’s branch had assembled with some urgency. The action was in response to a warrant to provide the FBI with records on all of Lyle Galviera’s financial dealings and those of his courier company.

The agents, Ross Sarreno and Winston Reeve, were the Phoenix Division’s white-collar crime experts. They wore dark suits and somber expressions. Whatever they were chasing, it was serious, Grover thought.

First, they confirmed that there’d been no activity on any credit or bank cards held by Galviera since the day before he was to depart for his California business trip. However, on that day, there was a cash withdrawal from one of his accounts for nine thousand dollars.

This guy was planning something, Reeve thought after he and Sarreno studied the company’s banking files.

“These records show the company is in trouble,” Reeve said.

“Yes.” Grover cleared his throat. “The big boys were securing their hold on Quick Draw’s regional market. About two years ago, Lyle’s outstanding debts climbed to about four million dollars. A few times he came close to not making payroll. We could no longer extend his line of credit. Things were getting dire. We were talking about Chapter Eleven.”

“Then he turns things around, appears to have found a source of business and funds,” Reeve said. “Ten months ago he begins knocking down his debt with significant weekly payments, fifty-, seventy-, ninety-five-thousand-dollar range.”

“He said it was the result of a new business model.”

“But all of the transactions were in cash,” Reeve said.

“That’s correct.”

“This is a courier business. It does not deal primarily in cash. The transactions could be indicative of money laundering. Under the law there’s an obligation to report this activity,” Reeve said.

Grover reached for the file, tapped at specific pages.

“You’ll see here that Currency Transaction Reports were filed with the IRS for all of his cash transactions over ten thousand dollars.”

“What about SARs?”

“This bank filed three Suspicious Activity Reports with the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network at Treasury.”

“What was their response?”

“Nothing to us. We did our part.”

“The bottom line here, plain and simple?”

“He owes $1,950,000 by end of next month and if he does not pay that amount in full he will lose his company. Now I know Lyle built that company practically from the time he was a college kid and I don’t think that he was going to let that happen under any circumstances.”

The agents closed the files, thanked Grover and left. Next stop: Cora Martin’s bank in Mesa Mirage to scrutinize her records. Heading to their car in the lot, Reeve turned to Sarreno.

“Our guy was in a dire financial situation, then found a sudden and significant source of cash. Someone dropped the ball. This should’ve raised flags,” Reeve said.

“Sure raises some big ones now.” Sarreno was reaching for his cell phone. “I’ll alert Hackett and Larson.”

At that moment, Vivian Brankowski, manager of the Tranquility Palms Condominiums near Tempe, reread the document the two FBI Agents, Douglas and Allard, had presented her.

Shocked, she watched the words leap at her from the pages: “…United States District Court…Search Warrant…affidavits…electronic data process and storage devices, computers…” The list went on, but offered no details as to what it concerned, other than the property listed for Lyle Galviera.

Vivian stood there in disbelief. This sort of thing never happened at Tranquility, a sedate community of urban professionals.

“Ma’am?” Agent Allard said. “We don’t want to force the door. Do you have a key and a floor plan?”

“Mr. Galviera uses Tranquility’s cleaning service. I have a key.”

It was the Segovia model, a two-bedroom multilevel condo with a balcony overlooking the small lake. Several swans were gliding on the surface when the FBI backed a white panel van into the driveway.

Vivian felt like she was trespassing as she opened the door to Mr. Galviera’s home for the agents. But the warrant gave them legal access. With mute efficiency, the agents snapped on latex gloves and began seizing and cataloging Galviera’s computer, personal files and other belongings.

Vivian stood at the doorway watching in disbelief. Mr. Galviera was a first-rate resident. Always smiled and chatted. Now the FBI was searching his home, taking things. Good Lord, what was going on? She stared at the warrant for the umpteenth time but failed to find an answer.

“Can you gentlemen at least tell me what this is about?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Agent Douglas said. “We can’t discuss it.”

Ed Kilpatrick’s jaw dropped when the FBI and detectives from the county arrived at the main office of Quick Draw Courier’s depot. They gave him a copy of the warrant authorizing them to seize the company’s computers, files and phone records, among other items.

“What the hell is this?” Kilpatrick asked.

Heads turned and conversations halted as management and administrative staff watched.

“We’re not at liberty to share other information at this time,” Agent Hutton said.

“But you’ll shut us down. Our customers are relying on shipments.”

“That’s not our concern, sir,” Hutton said. “Have your people step away from their units now.”

Kilpatrick and his staff complied with the order, then scrambled.

“Bobby! Get Lyle on the phone-tell him what’s going on. Agnes, call our lawyer, Kendall Fairfield. His number is on the firm’s calendar in my office.”

Kilpatrick was stunned as he watched FBI agents and county detectives shut down and disconnect computers. He tried to think.

“Gloria, can you get through to Metrofire Computer Solutions? Tell them we need emergency backup-now. Then start calling our clients. Tell them we’re having a major computer issue.”

Bobby Wicks shouted to Kilpatrick that he could not reach Lyle Galviera.

“Damn.” Kilpatrick ran his hand over his face, remembering Cora Martin’s call from earlier. Did she actually come in today? “Has anyone seen Cora today? Maybe she knows what the hell is going on.”