Mike said, “Gray, anything on the money trail?”
“Now, here I have more for you. We ran a forensic accounting on the guy Adam Pearce found, name of Porter Wallace. He’s definitely managing a few portfolios on the side. I found a link between him and Larry Reeves—the insider at Bayway. The money was moved into Reeves’s account from an offshore account in the Caymans. It’s closed now, totally untraceable. But Wallace went to Grand Cayman three weeks ago. Stands to reason he opened the account, put the money in, moved it when he was given the go-ahead, then closed the account. We’re going to pick him up in the morning, have a nice long chat, start taking apart his entire world. The warrant was issued an hour ago. We’re planning a five a.m. knock at his house. From what I can tell, he’s been a very bad boy.”
“Any ties to organized crime you can find? We could make a nice RICO case against him.”
“On the surface, it looks like he’s only been working with COE. I’ll keep digging into his background.”
Mike leaned over the phone. “Gray, who is this guy, anyway, this Porter Wallace? How does a Wall Street broker get hooked up with Matthew Spenser?”
“It’s a small world. Wallace is from Hartford, Connecticut, went to Avon Old Farms, a swanky private boys’ school—”
Nicholas interrupted him. “Gray, you found the link. Matthew Spenser went to Avon. They must have known each other in school. Whether he’s helping out of the goodness of his own heart or he believes Spenser’s ideology or he’s being threatened—either way, we have a direct tie to Spenser. Well done.”
Mike was grinning. This was huge. “This is great, Gray. Thank you. Next time we’re at the Feathers, your beer’s on me.”
“I’ll take the beer gladly, but I’ve got to point out that Adam Pearce really got everything we needed. I simply followed the trail. I’m very glad you talked him away from the dark side, Nicholas.”
Nicholas said, “Let us know how the knock goes on Porter Wallace. Just so you know, I have Adam working on a few more things.”
“We’ll keep running the trackers, see if we can find where they may be broadcasting to. Otherwise, it’s the usual craziness associated with crime scenes. I notice you’re not here to do any of the paperwork.”
Mike laughed as she looked at Nicholas and gave him the first real smile since, well, best not to revisit that. “He does manage to escape the paperwork, doesn’t he?”
? ? ?
When Savich was showing her the guest bedroom, Mike said, “Dillon, do you think they’ll cancel the Yorktown speech? I mean, it would be stupid to carry on as if nothing has happened.”
He shrugged. “I’ve long given up trying to determine what a politician will do in any situation. It’s the president’s decision. We’ll find out in the morning.”
Nicholas said, “Maybe everything will be handled before it’s crunch time. The place has to be crawling with advance people, and now even more Secret Service. How in the world would Spenser get in to plant one of his bombs?”
Mike said, “Maybe the bomb or bombs were planted before the Secret Service got there. I give up. My brain is fried. I’m going to sleep.” She laid her hand on Savich’s arm. “Thank you for letting us stay.”
She was laying her go-bag on the bed when Sherlock called out, “Wait, guys, you’d better see this.”
On the small television in the kitchen was a still shot of George Washington University Hospital.
“Your informant’s on the local eleven o’clock news.”
They all watched as the reporter fed the information to the anchor, who seemed pleased as punch to announce that a government agent, believed dead in a Brooklyn fire, was very much alive and being treated for gunshot wounds.