The Fix

Chapter 50

Decker and Jamison said nothing to each other as they drove down the street after leaving the restaurant.

After five minutes, Jamison finally spoke. “I can’t read your mind, Decker. Are we going somewhere or am I just driving aimlessly around?”

Decker said, “Sorry, let’s head to Berkshire’s place. I want to go over it again.”

The drive took about forty minutes. The concierge let them into the condo and then returned to the lobby.

Jamison, who had not been here before, looked around in awe. “Wow, I guess espionage does pay.”

“Yeah, only ordinarily it doesn’t. Not for the people in the trenches.”

“Well, she certainly disproved that.”

“She’s got this big stock and bond portfolio and the fancy car. But for what purpose? Look around at this place. None of this is her doing. I confirmed with the building manager that all this furniture, in fact everything in this place, came with the condo when she bought it from the previous owners. Apparently they didn’t want to sell it furnished, but she made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

“I wonder why she would do that?”

“Good question, to which I’d dearly love to have the answer.”

“Maybe we follow the money,” said Jamison.

“What?”

“Where did the money come from to pay for all this?”

“Bogart was looking into that but wasn’t finding anything. The records hit a stone wall at a certain point and he hasn’t been able to get past that, he said.”

“And we’re sure the payments to Dabney didn’t come from Berkshire?”

“Nothing of consequence has been sold from her portfolio in the last year.”

“Okay.”

Decker looked thoughtful for a moment. “But there might have been a way.”

“How do you mean?”

“What if Berkshire did manage to get that money to Dabney after all?”

“But you said nothing of consequence had been sold in her portfolio.”

“But that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have used her portfolio as collateral for the money.”

“What, you mean like a loan that you use other property to secure?”

“Exactly.”

“But who would loan her that much money?”

“I don’t know.”

“And she would know if it was going to pay a gambling debt that she would never get it back. That means all of her money would go to pay off the loan.”

“But what if she didn’t know the money was going to pay a gambling debt. Maybe she thought it was for something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like a legitimate business thing. Maybe she thought it was a short-term loan that would be paid back, with interest.”

“But we can’t even show she knew Walter Dabney. Why would she loan him ten million dollars?”

“She must have known him. Or knew someone who knew him. And would vouch for his ability to pay back the loan.”

“That seems really out there, Decker. I mean, ten million dollars!”

“But what did Berkshire care about money? Yeah, she has this place and a car she hardly uses. So she wasn’t about money. The clothes she had on when she died were from a discount store. Her closet was pretty bare. No jewelry, no expensive handbags. She didn’t buy anything to outfit this place. She drove around in a crappy Honda. And she had millions sitting in an account. For what?”

Jamison nodded. “Maybe for opportunities like this one.”

Decker cocked his head. “Explain.”

“Maybe it wasn’t simply a loan, Decker. Maybe Dabney hadn’t been spying all that time. But if Berkshire was still spying, maybe the money was a way for her to get Walter Dabney under her thumb. They’d know what he did for a living and all the valuable contacts and access to government agencies he’d have. Hell, the ‘loan’ might have come from Russia for all we know. The point is she might have known about the gambling debt. Maybe the Russians were the ones who got Dabney’s son-in-law so in debt in the first place. Then Berkshire is there to save the day and Dabney is her mole, bought and paid for.”

Decker mulled this over. “So Dabney didn’t go and find Berkshire.”

“Berkshire found Dabney and helped him so she could blackmail him later into spying for her.”

“Only he knew something that she didn’t. He knew that he was dying. And he wasn’t going to be her mole.”

“So he killed her, and then himself. End of story.”

“It makes sense, Alex. But we still have to show some connection between Walter Dabney and Berkshire. So far, we’ve been unable to do that.”

“We may never be able to do that,” she replied. “They might have hidden it too well. Or used intermediaries.”

“Or maybe one intermediary,” said Decker.

“You have someone in mind?”

“Maybe the person he confided everything to? The one who had the problem in the first place? And then went with him to Texas to get his death sentence.”

“Natalie?”

“Natalie.”

“But why would she be involved in that? Her husband was the gambler. She was just trying to get the money to pay off his debts.”

Decker didn’t say anything. He was staring off.

“Decker, I said—”

“I heard you. I know that’s what we’ve been told. But right now, I don’t believe anything I’ve been told.”

“But why not?”

“I’ve got my reasons. Ten million of them, in fact,” he added cryptically.

He pulled out his phone and called the Dabneys’ house.

Cecilia Randall, the housekeeper, answered.

Decker asked to speak to Natalie.

“She’s on her way to the airport,” Randall replied.

“The airport? Why?”

“She’s heading back to France. The funeral is over and she said she had to get back.”

“What time is her flight?”

“I think they board around five-thirty. She’s on Air France.”

Decker looked at his watch. “Thanks.”

He clicked off and looked at Jamison. “I think she’s making a run for it.”