Gabby waited a few minutes, listening for signs of life. All quiet. Once again she pulled the phone under the desk and dialed the Post’s toll-free number. Luckily, they had a real human answering the phone at the newspaper. Someone could die waiting for all those prompts people are forced to endure before they can press the right button. Annie, the newspaper’s owner, knew the importance of technology. Probably better than most. But when people are calling a newspaper, it was usually something that needed immediate attention, and it was necessary to speak to a person who could put them in touch with the right people. Pronto.
“The Post. How may I direct your call?” The greeting was almost as familiar as what she said during her part-time phone duty, but for different reasons.
“Maggie Spritzer, please,” Gabby whispered. The line went directly to voice mail.
“Hi, this is Maggie. I’m away from my untidy desk. Please leave a message. I’ll get back to you as soon as I crawl out from under the mess. ”
Gabby was crestfallen but she recovered lickety-split.
“Mag. It’s Gabby. I’m okay. Back at The Haven. Strange happenings.” It dawned on her that her nose for a story hadn’t completely deserted her. She knew she was smack-dab in the middle of something. “I’ll try again, maybe tomorrow.” Heavy footsteps were climbing the stairs. Maxwell. He had forgotten to lock the desk. Maggie clumsily staggered to her feet, dragging the tangled phone from the floor.
“What the hell?” Maxwell bellowed.
“I tripped over the phone cord,” Gabby said sheepishly.
“Give me that thing.” He angrily reached for the phone.
Gabby handed him the jumble of wires, receiver, and the phone with the lights blinking. She thought she heard him mumble “stupid bitch.” She was getting the feeling that she wasn’t well liked by some of those on the second floor. Still, she wanted to believe Liam had good and forthright intentions. The rest of the group was another matter.
Gabby apologized profusely, to no avail. Maxwell was annoyed. He untangled the wires and put the phone back in place. Gabby blushed and apologized one more time. Maxwell gave her a disgusted look. “I’ll be back in a half hour. Try not to break anything while I’m gone.” He turned and left. She thought he might report her. At the very least, he would complain about her. Maxwell didn’t like her, and Noah didn’t trust her. Her dismissal from phone duty was imminent. She had to get one more call in to Maggie before she was discharged from her duties.
Gabby realized the phone bill would arrive at some point, and she wondered who would be scrutinizing it. There was a bookkeeper who had a tiny office next to Noah’s. The bookkeeper wore a purple stole, indicating he was a Luminary. A high-ranking member. Would he question the calls? And how long would it take before they realized it was her family’s landline? If it was Noah who viewed the bills, she knew she would be out on her ass, or worse. Her hope was that she had a few weeks before her secret call was exposed. She doubted they did anything online, such as banking and paying bills. There were no laptops in sight. The only computers were in Noah’s and Liam’s offices. And those were always behind locked doors. No, technology wasn’t a thing at The Haven. Even the messages she took were written down on a pad of paper. It seemed like everything was on paper.
Including financial transactions. CASH ONLY except for some of the bills. But she knew there was a checking account. One morning, a plumber had arrived to fix a leak. She had instructions to give him the envelope that was tacked to the corkboard. When the plumber finished, he opened the envelope to see if the amount was correct. Gabby was standing next to him at the time and couldn’t help but notice the payer information in the upper left corner wasn’t THE HAVEN. It was TRIDENT ENTERPRISES. She hadn’t given it another thought until now.
Chapter Twelve
Pinewood
In less than twenty-four hours, the sisters were able to cobble together some information about The Haven. Nikki followed several transactions from one shell company to another. There had to be a half dozen of them, incorporated in Delaware, Wyoming, or Nevada. Nikki knew full well that it is very easy to open a shell company in the United States. A good lawyer can do it in less than half an hour. The überwealthy use them, together with offshore accounts in places like the Cayman Islands, Switzerland, Singapore, and Belize, to hide money and assets. A second use is to launder money as it moves from one shell company to another, helping to obfuscate the original source. A staggering seventy billion dollars are secreted away in foreign countries.
In 2016, there was a massive leak of 11.5 million documents at what at the time was one of the largest law firms in the world, Mossack Fonseca, headquartered in Panama City with branches in forty different countries. The leaked documents were aptly named the Panama Papers. It revealed that there were over 210,000 separate entities juggling billions of dollars in offshore accounts. The information was astounding, and The Haven appeared on the list.
With the help of her staff and her good friend Lizzie Fox Cricket, one of the most brilliant lawyers in the country, Nikki was able to trace the shell companies associated with The Haven. That was the easy part. The not-so-easy part was tracing the money passing through the shell companies to the offshore bank accounts in which they were stashed. And that is exactly why the very wealthy and the very corrupt, who were sometimes the same people, used those banks—to avoid paying taxes. For the very corrupt, however wealthy they were, it was also to hide the illegal nature of their moneymaking activities. The bankers’ lips were sealed. The sisters hoped that Charles or Fergus could pry them open.
Late that afternoon, the group returned to Pinewood, each with whatever information they could find.
Yoko had called her distributor of exotic flowers in Miami. Whenever the distributor had excess, or the shelf life of the flowers was ending, he would take them to the farmers’ market to sell at a fraction of what it would cost at a flower shop. Freddie, her contact there, said he recalled seeing “Moonie-type” people at one of the farm stands. He had never had any interaction with them, but they stood out because of their “costumes,” he said, and how they all looked as if they had just drunk some spiked lemonade. Yoko then called the florist shop from which Gabby had made the phone call. Still no more information.
Charles and Fergus offered up the most intriguing tidbits.
“There is a connection between the Westlake twins and the billionaire Daniel Josephson Ruffing. At one time, Noah Westlake, who is now the general manager of The Haven, worked at Ruffing’s marina,” Charles continued. “Apparently, Ruffing was involved in some business deals with Sidney Westlake, who is now serving fifty years in prison. But Ruffing broke ties before the old man checked into the gray-bar hotel.” Everyone hooted at his reference to prison. “Ruffing’s visible assets include several pieces of real estate.”
Fergus chimed in. “In addition, he leases a parcel of land on the coast of Cuba.”
“Is that legal?” Yoko asked.
“Not if he’d bought it,” Nikki replied. “Cuban law forbids selling land in Cuba to foreigners, but there is no prohibition on leasing to them. Ruffing’s leasing the land is a boon for both him and Cuba. Cuba gets foreign currency and Ruffing can pull out anytime he wants.”