The transaction was far from clean and final. There were tax issues, gift and perhaps income, but those problems now belonged to Mr. Tanner. Mark would not give them another thought. He folded the note, placed the check inside, and put them in an envelope. He addressed air bills to Mr. Tanner in Martinsburg, and to the three loan counselors: Morgana Nash at NowAssist in New Jersey, Rex Wagner at Scholar Support Partners in Philadelphia, and Tildy Carver at LoanAid in Chevy Chase. The paperwork took half an hour, during which Mark managed to calm his nerves and stop looking over his shoulder. He reminded himself that he’d been living on the run for several months now, and the worst thing he could do was to appear nervous. Still, the arrival of the money made him jittery.
He handed the six express envelopes to the clerk, paid for their shipment in cash, and left the office. Outside, he texted Todd and Zola with the news that their student debts had been paid in full. In his hotel suite, he called Jenny Valdez at Cohen-Cutler and inquired about the disbursement for the attorneys’ fees. Lucero & Frazier was due another $1,048,800, or $800 for each client. Ms. Valdez said that money should “go out tomorrow.”
He sent an e-mail to his loan counselor:
Dear Morgana Nash: I’m sure you are aware of my current legal problems here in the District. No worries. A rich uncle died recently and left me a bundle. I have just sent by overnight letter a certified check in the amount of $266,000 to NowAssist as payment in full. It’s been a real pleasure. Mark Frazier.
From Barbados, Todd wrote,
Dear SS Counselor Rex Wagner: Well, I finally took your advice and found a job. And it’s a helluva job, I gotta tell you. I’m making so much money these days I can’t spend it all. I can buy anything, but the one thing I really want is to get you off my back. Tomorrow by FedEx you’ll receive a certified check in the amount of $195,000, as payment in full. Go pester someone else. Your pal, Todd Lucero.
From Dakar, Zola wrote,
Dear Tildy Carver: I just won the lottery so I’m sending you a check for $191,000. It should arrive tomorrow. Best wishes, Zola Maal.
—
TODD SPENT the afternoon hanging around the office of Mr. Rudolph Richard at the Second Royal Bank of the Lesser Antilles. When the wire finally arrived at 4:15, he thanked Mr. Richard and left to call his partners.
Ten minutes later, a team of FBI agents entered the offices of Cohen-Cutler in Miami and met Ian Mayweather and his team of lawyers in the firm’s largest conference room. Special Agent Wynne handed over a search warrant, which Mayweather scrutinized. He then gave it to the firm’s chief criminal lawyer, who read every word. Satisfied that they had no choice, Mayweather nodded at another partner who produced a list of the fifty-two law firms that had referred 220,000 clients to the class. Wynne scanned the list, saw what he was looking for, and asked, “This law firm in New York, Lucero & Frazier, what do you know about it?”
Mayweather looked at his copy of the list and said, “They sent us thirteen hundred cases.”
“Have you dealt with them before?”
“No, but then that’s true for almost all of these firms. There are six class actions against Swift, and these firms shop around. I guess this one chose us.”
“And you don’t check to make sure the law firms are legitimate?”
“We’re not required to, no. We assume the firms are legit, along with their clients. You know something about this firm?”
Wynne deflected the question and said, “We’d like to see the names of the thirteen hundred clients from Lucero & Frazier.”
“They’re posted online in the case file,” Mayweather replied.
“Yes, along with a million others, and they are not grouped by referring attorneys. Makes it rather difficult to investigate each individual. We need to see the Lucero & Frazier clients.”
“Sure, but your court order doesn’t go that far.”
On one side of the room the FBI agents glared at the lawyers, who held their ground and stared right back. This was their turf, not the government’s, and as very rich lawyers they resented the intrusion. The Feds were meddling in their jackpot. But the Feds didn’t care; their job was to investigate and all turf belonged to them. And so both gangs watched each other, waiting to see who would blink.
An agent handed Wynne a file. He removed some paperwork and said, “Here’s another search warrant. The judge says we can examine any suspicious activity involving Mark Frazier and Todd Lucero, a couple of guys who are not really lawyers to begin with.”
“You’re kidding,” Mayweather said, blinking.
“Do we appear to be kidding?” Wynne asked. “We have cause to believe that these two bogus lawyers have filed a bunch of bogus claims with your class action. We need to verify it.”
Mayweather read the court order, then tossed it on the table. He shrugged in defeat and said, “Very well.”
—
MARK WAS TRYING to eat a sandwich in a Brooklyn deli, though he had no appetite. His emotions were in near-violent conflict. On the one hand, he wanted to gloat over the money. But on the other, he knew it was time to run. He reveled in the knowledge that they had pulled off a beautiful reverse scam against the Great Satan, as Gordy called Rackley, and stolen money from a crook. But he was also terrified at the thought of getting caught.
Todd was sitting on a beach, cold drink in hand, and watching another perfect Caribbean sunset. Safe, at least for the moment, he smiled at the future and tried to imagine what he would do with his share of the fortune. But the thrill was dampened by thoughts of his parents and their embarrassment when he never returned to D.C. Return? Would that ever be possible? Was it worth it? He tried to shake off these thoughts by telling himself that they had committed the perfect crime.
Zola was enjoying life with her family in Dakar. They were dining in an outdoor café not far from the ocean, on a lovely spring night, with their biggest troubles far behind them.
None of the three had the slightest hint that, at that moment, a dozen FBI agents were working the phones and discovering that their Swift clients did not exist.
—
LONG AFTER THE SUN set, Todd called Mark for the fourth time that day. The first two calls had been exhilarating as they celebrated the apparent success of their heist. With the third, though, reality was setting in and they began to worry.
Todd said bluntly, “I think you should leave. Now.”
“Why?”
“We have enough money, Mark. And we’ve made mistakes that we don’t even know about. Get out of the country. The attorneys’ fees will be wired tomorrow, icing on the cake, and the bank knows where to send the money. I’d feel better if you were on a plane.”
“Maybe so. And your new passport worked fine?”