Distant Thunder

14

Vanessa appeared on time and Stone led her to his study, where he exchanged a drink for a ziplock plastic bag. “Do you mind if I look through these things now?” he asked her.

“Go right ahead.”

Stone emptied the bag onto the coffee table. “Have you been through this?” he asked her.

“Nope, they look just like the stuff he laid on the dresser top every night he was home.”

Stone poked through the contents. “There should be a wallet with his CIA ID,” he said.

“The guy who delivered the bag said they never found it.”

“Right.” Stone found a tiny cardholder with John’s Agency business cards; he kept one. There was a thick wallet, and Stone counted eight hundred and ten dollars. He handed it to Vanessa. “Here, go spend that.”

“Consider it done,” she said, dropping it into her handbag.

“Did he often carry that much cash?”

“It’s not unusual, for him.”

Stone took an assortment of credit cards from the wallet and spread them on the table: Amex, Visa, ATM card, and one that was blank except for a ten-digit number.

“That blank card is for a bank, isn’t it?” Vanessa asked.

“Could be. Did John do any banking outside the country?”

“Like where?”

“Like Macao, the Cayman Islands, Malta, Cyprus?”

“We went to the Caymans once. St. George’s, for three days.”

“Did John ever leave you alone when you were there? A couple of hours, maybe?”

“Yes, we were lying on a beach, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone, and he didn’t come back for another hour or more. I asked him where he’d been, and he said, ‘Just taking a stroll.’ ”

“When you went to the beach, did he take any sort of luggage with him?”

“He took a canvas duffel with his towel and sunglasses in it, that sort of thing. He was carrying it when he came back, but it looked emptier.”

Stone went through the other detritus in the wallet, and it was just that. Stone handed her the numbered card. “When John used the ATM card, do you know what the PIN was?”

“Yes, it was 5350. Mine, too. That was the house number of a place we lived right after we got married.”

“Did he use any other PINs?”

“No, just that one. Me, too.”

“Tell you what: tomorrow, find a bank with an ATM, put the blank card into it, and try to withdraw five hundred dollars, using your regular PIN.”

“Do you think it will cough it up?”

“Maybe, and maybe it will cough up a lot more. Are you good with computers?”

“Pretty good.”

“Tomorrow, go online, using that ten-digit number and ‘Cayman Islands,’ and do a Google search. If you find anything to do with a bank, see if you can get into their website, using your PIN. You might find it a pleasant experience.”

“Okay.”

They had dinner.

“Do you think the blank bank account might really have any money in it?”

“Bank accounts are all alike. They have in them what somebody has deposited, less what someone has taken out. Can you remember a time when John made a large cash purchase?”

“Yes, he bought me a Mercedes convertible — not a new one, but several years old — and he wrote a check for sixty-five thousand dollars to pay for it. The check was a different color than our usual checkbook, and now that I think of it, the name St. George’s was printed on it. I asked him about it, and he told me, laughing, to mind my own business.”

“Did John have a will?”

“We both do — did.”

“Have you read it yet?”

“No, we just left everything to each other.”

“Dig it out tomorrow and see exactly what it says.”

“All right.”

After dinner, it didn’t take long for them to get into bed.

The following morning, Stone was at his desk when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Vanessa Morgan on one.”

Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, did you get to work on time?”

“I was a couple of minutes late. I had to stop at an ATM.”

“Did it work?”

“It did, and now I have five hundred dollars I hadn’t expected to have.”

“Well, you have eight hundred from John’s wallet, too.”

“Can anybody hear us on this line?”

“No, it’s entirely private, and I have my phones swept regularly for bugs.”

Her voice became more confidential. “I got on my computer when I came to work, and I found a bank account associated with the blank card.”

“I rather thought you might. Is there anything in it?”

“Does this call come under attorney-client privilege?”

“First you have to hire me as your attorney.”

“Okay, you’re hired, starting now.”

“Then you’re covered.”

“The account balance is a million six hundred thousand dollars.”

“Wow.”

“What does this mean?”

“It means you’re a million six richer than you were yesterday. Can you print out a statement?”

“There’s a button for that.”

“E-mail me a copy of the statement.”

“Okay. I have a confidential question.”

“Shoot.”

“Is the money in this account tax-free?”

“Generally speaking, any income you receive is taxable, unless it’s deductible.”

“Well, I know that, but is my new million six tax-free? I mean, if I don’t pay taxes on it, will anybody know?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“I said, Will anybody know, if I don’t pay taxes on it?”

“We must have a bad line. I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

“I get it.”

“I didn’t hear that, either. Bye-bye.” He hung up, and buzzed Joan.

“Yes, sir?”

“Scan and send a standard representation memo and a bill for a hundred dollars to Vanessa Morgan.”