Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 89

Annabelle sat down across from Stone at his cottage.

“They let me see him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Alex?”

She nodded as she traced her forehead with one of her fingers. “Piece of granite hit him right about here. An inch to the left it would have missed him and he wouldn’t be lying in that hospital bed in a coma.”

“Is his condition the same?”

“A bit worse, actually.” She stifled a sob. “His vitals aren’t as good today.”

Stone reached across his desk and gripped her hand. “All we can do is hope and pray, Annabelle. That’s all.”

“He’s such a good guy, Oliver. Solid as a rock. Always there even when I acted like a bitch to him.”

“We all have regrets, probably me more than anyone, when it comes to Alex.” He took his hand away and sat back in his chair.

“We have to get her, Oliver,” said Annabelle. Her eyes were no longer moist. She was staring earnestly at her friend.

“I know. And we will.”

She pulled some pieces of paper from her bag. “After you called me with your questions about the money trail I spoke with my contact in Bermuda.”

“Was he helpful?”

“You know the amount of illegal monies that are funneled around the Caribbean banks on a daily basis? Literally hundreds of billions.”

“Needle in a haystack, then,” said Stone doubtfully.

“It would have been except for one thing.” She looked at one of the papers. “Five hundred million dollars was wired into an account one month ago at a bank in the Caymans. It just sat there with a hold on it. A little over one week ago it was released. One hour after that another five hundred million was wired to the same account. It sat there for the full week. Then it was released. But it didn’t go forward into another account. It went backwards.”

“Return to sender?”

“Exactly. It was rescinded.”

“What day exactly?”

“The day Alex nearly died.”

“When they knew Friedman had failed?”

“That’s right.”

“So she got half the money when certain goals were met. Probably the explosion in Lafayette, the death of Tom Gross and cleaning up the loose ends like Sykes, Donohue and the Latinos.”

“What about Turkekul?” asked Annabelle.

“He’s a special case. At first I just thought that she had seized an opportunity that had presented itself, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not getting what you mean.”

“I’m not sure I do either. We’ll just have to see how that plays out. Any way to see where the money went?”

She shook her head. “The cops have put pressure on Swiss banks to open up their records and they’ve complied. That’s pushed a lot of the illegal transactions to the Caribbean. And the islanders have not been as compliant as the Swiss. We’ll need some more expertise to get those answers.”

“I think I might have a way to find some,” said Stone.

“But Friedman has half a billion dollars at her disposal. That will fund an excellent escape plan.”

“Yes, it will. But she has some problems.”

“Her employer?”

“She tries to run now it puts up signals they can intercept. She may think if she bides her time they’ll lose their focus on her and move on to other matters.”

“But she may also be able to finger one or more of the cartels with the assassination attempts,” replied Annabelle. “They aren’t going to let that hang out there. Now she’s become a potential witness against them.”

“She’s a very smart woman and she’s undoubtedly thought the very same thing. All the more reason for her to take it slow. And that’s only one side of the equation.”

“Meaning the cops coming after her on the other end.”

“Yes. I’m sure by now Friedman knows we’re on to her.”

As Annabelle gathered her things in preparation to leave she said, “If Alex doesn’t make it, how are we going to get on without him, Oliver?”

She looked like she was going to start crying again. Stone put his arms around her, held her tightly. He let Annabelle Conroy, possibly the most gifted con artist of her generation, but a woman with a huge heart and a rock-solid understanding of loyalty, sob quietly into his shoulder.

When she was done Stone said, “We can never get on without him, Annabelle. All we can do is just survive each day as it comes. I think you and I have a better understanding of that than most people.”

She nodded dumbly and then left. Stone watched her drive off and then went back inside his cottage.

Stone made a call to someone he’d only recently met, but with whom he’d formed a permanent alliance.

Joe Knox said hello on the other end of the phone.

“Joe, it’s Oliver Stone.”

The man’s response was classic Joe Knox. “I was wondering how long it was going to take before you called me in on this. I’ll be at your place in an hour.”