The Body of David Hayes

THREE

“IMPRESSIVE,” DANNY FOREMAN CALLED OUT loudly as the paper target crept toward Liz. It hung from a clip attached to a belt drive, allowing the shooter to replace it with a fresh one and then electronically return it to a desired distance. Liz was shooting thirty feet. She wore eye and ear gear and a blue business suit with black pinstripes. The indoor firing range was too loud for them to try to carry on a conversation, but she pulled one ear off her headset and shouted above the percussion of reports.

“Hardly impressive! Nine in the magazine. I only hit the target with three of them.” She pointed out the holes in the black-and-white bottle-shaped target. “You want a go?”

“No, thanks.”

“You sure?”

He assented, pulling hearing protection and goggles off a peg on the wall and accepting the weapon, a slick little nine millimeter. “This doesn’t strike me as you, Liz.”

“Lou gave it to me a couple years ago. I protested, naturally. But I took a course so I’d know what I’m doing.”

They had yet to say hello to each other, Liz bearing the burden of what Lou had told her about Danny’s lingering resentment.

“And now, a renewed interest?” Danny Foreman ran the target out to thirty feet, raised the gun, sighted, and squeezed off a single shot. It struck the target low. He lowered the gun, studied it, raised it a second time and caused Liz to jerk back as he unloaded the magazine with eight incredibly fast consecutive shots. He left a tight pattern, very near the center circle of the target. “Sweet,” he said, placing down the weapon.

His shooting seemed charged with emotion. Tension hung in the air along with the bitter tang of cordite.

“I’m truly sorry,” Liz said.

Foreman tugged the headset off. “What’s that?”

“Never mind.”

They chased down a pair of fiberglass chairs in the waiting area in front of two vending machines and a trash can that smelled of burnt coffee grounds. The sign on the wall read NO SMOKING, but there were well-used ashtrays on each of the three round tables. The vinyl floor had been swabbed down with a lemon-scented disinfectant. Foreman offered to clean her gun for her, and she took him up on it, handing him a gray plastic kit of swabs and oil that Lou had given her along with the gun. Foreman’s big hands wrapped around the metal like talons on prey.

Danny Foreman spoke with a warm, sonorous voice that Liz remembered well, a voice it felt nice to be around.

She said, “We’ve not seen much of each other, have we? I want you to know that Darlene’s passing hit us both very hard. We miss her-miss you both, Danny-very much.”

“I could have called. Should have,” he said. “I got this notion it was better to start fresh-a new life, you know? Transferred over to BCI. Bought a little place over to Madison Park. Didn’t change much of anything, though. I miss her badly, Liz.”

She wasn’t the best at such discussions. Even among her girlfriends, she preferred listening to talking, and when she did speak it was to express her true opinions, most of which were the last thing anyone wanted to hear.

“There’s no set time for grieving. It’s a process. But speaking as a friend, Lou and I would like to see more of you than we do.”

“Darlene and I always enjoyed our time with the two of you.”

“And… here we are.”

His face screwed up tight. “Yeah, but it’s business. We both know that’s why you called me. Let me tell you something: It makes it all the more difficult for me.”

In fact, she had called him to test the thickness of the ice, like tossing rocks and watching them skim across the frozen surface. Called him, to edge her boot down onto that ice and listen for the splintering cracks beneath her added weight. If she misjudged or misstepped, she knew the peril she faced. This meeting with Danny would determine how much she shared with Lou, believing it unfair to revisit that pain unless absolutely forced to. She avoided eye contact, focusing on his long fingers and the meticulous way he handled the weapon.

She said, “He wants me to get him some cash.”

“Hayes, we’re talking about. Just to make sure I get this right.”

“Yes.”

Foreman pulled out a notebook. “Contacted you how?”

She ran down the events, bending facts slightly to make it sound as if Hayes had contacted her due to her position in the bank.

“And the location of this face-to-face. How was that known to you?”

She paused too long trying to think something up. Foreman filled the gap.

“In case you forgot, Liz, I was the investigator on the original wire fraud. That put me in a… let’s call it a unique position, that allowed me to collect all sorts of information about this case, some of it relevant at the time, some not.”

The room dropped about twenty degrees. She realized now that calling Foreman had been a terrible mistake. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, we do.” The ice gave way and she clung to the ragged edges, half in, half out. Lou would have to be told.

“I can’t see any reason to drag Lou through any of this,” Foreman said like a mind reader.

“Well, we differ there. But that’s between Lou and me.”

“Let me clarify one point in particular, and I want you to think carefully before you answer this, because I’m going to consider it as a statement to law enforcement, just so we understand each other.”

“If I can help in any way, then I want to. That’s partly why I called you.”

“Some people, Liz, they call us first because they think that helps remove them from suspicion. Not that you’d ever resort to such a tactic. I’m just saying, who called who doesn’t matter much.”

“And the point you want to clarify?”

“You were or were not involved in any with the initial wire fraud?”

“Was not.”

“There is no way this is ever coming back onto you? There is nothing out there that’s going to blindside me, or anyone else associated with this investigation? Discounting personal relationships that you may or may not have had with employees of the bank. I’m not interested in that unless it carries weight with my investigation. And you’re telling me it does not?”

“That’s correct.” The edges broke free and she bobbed up to her neck, the weight of her clothing pulling her down.

“Okay. Good. Then tell me about the meeting. Location, time, circumstances, duration, topics discussed, any items exchanged. You want to edit out the personal stuff, that’s just fine.”

“There was no personal stuff.” She regained some internal strength, defiant in her defense.

“I’m just saying… what you tell me here, Liz, is going down in my notes. You understand? My notes can be subpoenaed, probably will be subpoenaed, so a person wants to think that through.”

“I haven’t thought any of this through. David said he needed my help. He said he was afraid for his mother.” She’d told him all this already. “Then the money. I told him I couldn’t do that.”

“Next time you’ll agree.”

“I most certainly will not.”

“You played it right, believe it or not. Convincing. But next time you’ll agree to pay in exchange for him leaving you alone-which he won’t. We’ll make the drop, not you, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“It won’t be the end of it. You just said so yourself.”

“Your role in it, I’m talking about. It’s complicated, Liz. We want that money. We want whoever that money belonged to. More than anything, we want to know how he did it-how he hid that money for so long.” Foreman’s eyes were unrelenting and cold. “This merger,” he continued. “MTK buying out WestCorp. That’s significant. Hayes switched lawyers within a week of that announcement. Did you know that?”

“How would I possibly know that?”

“His new team pressed hard for parole, and they got it. Attorney-client privilege… we’ll never know who hired those new attorneys, but someone wanted Hayes sprung for a reason, and that reason is the merger.”

“But we announced the merger nine months ago.”

“And they’ve been lobbying for an early release ever since. Your systems fold into MTK’s, or the other way around?”

“I see what you’re driving at. All the hardware’s in place, if that’s what you’re asking-and mind you this is confidential information, so put your pen down.” Foreman did so. “We’re in beta testing on the front-end system. Our accounts merge into their hardware. We throw the final switch at a reception, Sunday, nine P.M.” And I’m in charge of the catering, she thought absurdly.

“Front end? What’s that about?”

“Both brokerage and retail operate on a three-tier server system. Windows environment on the front end-the retail side, for our account executives, tellers, and the like. Not terribly secure but easy to use. A UNIX level that handles account management, wire transfers, the nuts and bolts-much more secure. And a pair of AS/400s-incredibly stable and secure IBM machines-on the very bottom of the stack for the account data-the balances.”

“But you’re only testing the front end?”

“The Windows environment is the last to be tested. It’s the most likely to have bugs and glitches. The technicians have been through the lower-level servers for months now. We don’t expect any surprises there.” She asked, “Why the technical interest, Danny?”

“I’ve got to think like Hayes. I’ve got to put myself in his shoes. He said he needed you to pull this off.”

“He did.”

“And what makes you special? Ignoring any personal connection.”

“My access.”

“Security clearance?”

“Yes.”

“You the only one with this clearance?”

“Hardly.”

“How many others?”

She had called for the meeting and yet they were working his agenda. “I’m not sure.”

“Not sure or won’t tell?”

“You’ll have to go above me for that. Sorry.”

“We don’t want to get into this, do we?” His eyes drilled into her. Whatever past they’d shared was briefly forgotten. “Me, explaining how it was that Hayes came to you before anyone else?” He waited. “It’s a simple enough question, Liz.”

“And I’m forbidden from answering it. I signed documents. What you’re asking is something I cannot do-consequences be what they may.”

Foreman set down the clean and reassembled weapon and pushed back from the table.

She filled the resulting silence. “My point in calling you was to let you know that an opportunity exists to make a deal with David.”

“Your point in calling me,” Foreman corrected, “was to find out how much I know.”

“He’s clearly terrified at the moment, and I would think you’d want to jump on that.”

Foreman steamed, still not recovered from her refusal. “I’m on your side. Don’t make me jump through hoops just to understand the way this works. Understanding it is one thing. Stopping him is another. And it’ll be impossible if I don’t know what he knows. And he worked there, Liz… at the bank. That puts me at a distinct disadvantage from the get-go. How can I protect the other people with this clearance rating if I don’t know who they are?”

“You’ll have to go above me.”

“Goddamn it!” Foreman slapped the table. The gun jumped. So did Liz. “Sorry,” he said, composing himself.

His display of temper rattled her; she didn’t know this side of Danny Foreman. How on earth did this case get so personal for him? “Cut a deal with him, Danny. If you use me, use me to bring him that deal.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“And do it quickly, because I’m going to lay this all out for Lou, and after that… You know Lou.”

“Give me a day.”

“Can’t. I’ve got to tell him tonight.”

“There are channels to go through.”

“At the bank, too.”

“Give me a break.”

She offered him her own deal. “I’ll explore permission to turn over what you need… our classified information… if you’ll put together that deal.”

“Once Lou is involved he won’t let you within a mile of David Hayes. Don’t kid yourself.”

“So we’ll both work quickly,” Liz proposed. “There are still a few hours left in the day.”

“I don’t know about you, but my guys don’t move that fast. This is the government, don’t forget.”

“Try.”

“As if I have a choice,” he said, and acknowledged with a sly grin that Liz had won the first round.