Chapter 12 Laurie

After their experience at the funeral that morning Jeremy and Vanessa were ultra cautious as they made their way to the “Trader” just before nine that evening. If Laurie Merkel had not been brought on-sides by the information in the packet given her by Jeremy, they could be walking into a trap. Carefully Jeremy parked his beamer in the parking lot of the arena and they walked to a position across the street from the Trader from where they could observe any evidence of a stakeout. They could see nothing nor could they see Laurie Merkel inside. “There is no other way” said Jeremy “We’ll just have to hope for the best. You stay here, if I don’t come out and call you in five minutes, you get out of here.” With that, he walked towards the door.

Inside he looked around quickly and saw two women sitting at the very same table he and Vanessa had occupied when this whole affair started. The woman with her back to him could be Laurie, so Jeremy moved cautiously around the room till he could see her face. When he was sure, and could see nothing else untoward in the room he approached her. “I’m glad you came, I had to trust you.” Just then he felt rather than saw the man behind him, and was ready to run when Laurie spoke, “Don't worry he is with me and has assured me he will not harm you.” Jeremy turned and recognized the man as Phelps, the SEC agent that had visited the Fraser offices.

Phelps grabbed his shoulder, “Don’t run, I have nothing to do with the FBI or the local police. I have seen the stuff you gave to Mrs. Merkel, we want to find out where you got that information, and what more you know. You obviously know Mrs. Merkel, this lady is her daughter, Candice.”

Before he sat down at the table, Jeremy went to the door and signaled to Vanessa, and once she had joined them, he began, “Actually, Vanessa got this information from a secret location revealed to her by Brad Layton before he died, and we have a lot more. The stuff I gave you referred only to the Microline stock insider trading. Unfortunately Bill Fernstine seems to be involved in that one as well as Brad Layton.” This last comment was directed at Mrs. Merkel, who responded, “Don't hold back anything on my account, we knew Bill was up to something naughty, we just hoped that when it came out, if it came out, it wouldn‘t hurt us too badly. Seems we should have acted more actively!”

Phelps interrupted, “The insider trading thing is only the beginning of this thing, you said something about market manipulation, surely in this day and age that's not possible?”

“I would have thought so,” continued Jeremy, “and you are right, the insider trading is the lesser scam, and it seems that Bill was the small fry! I’m not yet sure exactly what is going on, but if you look only at Brad’s dealings in Microline, sure he sold a whole bunch ahead of the announcement on Monday, but look at the previous six months. In total, all the funds under Brads control held seventy five thousand shares, just under five percent of the stock, important because that meant he was free of any obligation to declare his interest in the shares. But what I think is more important is that it makes up forty percent of the stock not held by insiders or institutions. Now look at his trades, over the past six months prior to Monday, the total purchases by his funds of the stock is one hundred and fifty thousand shares, and the total of the sales is equal to that same amount. By rolling over stocks from one fund to the other, always keeping the shares in his stable, he created a market equal to double the number of shares he held, and in the process pushed up the price by eighty percent.”

With little further interruption from the others, Jeremy went on to describe how he thought Brad was doing this internal trading scam with several other stocks, and that Microline was only the tip of the iceberg of the problems for Merkel. Along the way Brad was ripping off the funds with his phantom fund.

Then Jeremy dropped the bombshell, “Vanessa also found this card. I think this means that Brad and Merkel are not the only ones doing this, we have some possible names, which is the main reason we asked for your help. We think that Bill was killed by someone because he was suspicious of Brad’s involvement in this scheme. And we think Brad was killed because that same someone thought that maybe Bill already had found out too much.”

At that Laurie interrupted, “Brad was not killed, he died of a heart attack”. This brought Vanessa into the conversation, “I was there the day he died, leaving Brad’s office, I saw a man on the elevator who looked just like the driver who ran down Bill. It’s too much of a coincidence that he was there just when Brad has a fatal heart attack.”

Phelps could hardly contain himself, “Now we are going to have to tell the FBI. I can’t have knowledge that a murder has been committed and not report it.”

“No problem,” said Jeremy, “but wait till we have disappeared again. It’s difficult enough for us to clear our names while we are on the run, it will be almost impossible if we are behind bars. This is what we have got to find out. Here is a list of six names that we think may have been working with Brad.” Somehow we have got to establish if they are doing something similar. Mr. Phelps, I am sure you can do this, but please do it soon, like tomorrow.”

“And Mrs. Fernstine, please, when you get home could you email me at this address all the email addresses you know or suspect Bill was using. We already know his AOL box, but he may have others. If you know his passwords, that will help too, saves a lot of time. Thanks. OK, we will keep in touch by email. Let’s try to get some answers before someone else is killed, particularly before it is one of us!”

Jeremy and Vanessa quickly returned to the beamer, and disappeared into the evening traffic. Phelps shook his head, “Now I know those guys had nothing to do with Bill's death. I hope they are careful, if this is as big as it is beginning to look, billions of dollars are at stake, and people kill other people for a lot less than that! Now I had better call Hargrove at the FBI and tell him that we have information that Brad‘s death was murder.”

By the time Jeremy and Vanessa got back to the cottage on the lake, it was well after midnight, as their speed had been restricted by a persistent snow squall coming in off the lake. Even so Jeremy immediately accessed his internet provider and logged into his email. He was pleased to see a message from Candice Fernstine. There was Bill’s email address, and several passwords he was known to use. Without difficulty he was able to find the address and using each password in turn found the second gave him access to Bill's mailbox. There were several new messages, but he was not interested in those, he was hoping that Bill would be the kind that only cleared his mailbox when he approached the memory limit, and this was the case. All the mail in and out over the past two weeks was there, only the spam had been deleted.

Looking back to the previous week in the sent folder he found the message that had been sent to his mailbox in error, and right next to it was one to an address Columbus@BellSouth.net. What attracted him to this message was the subject “Sell Microline”, and in the body of the message was the same information that Bill had intended to give to Brad, but had inadvertently sent to Jeremy. However, this message had been signed “Bonanza”, not Bill. Two days later was a second message to the same recipient, also signed Bonanza. “Take care who you use to liquidate. B.L. is suspicious, and is becoming a problem.”

The truth hit Jeremy like a rock. Under a pseudonym, Bill was giving insider information to someone else, someone outside Merkel. The initials B.L. could be Brad Layton, but whoever it was, it was clear that Columbus would know, which meant that he had been the subject of discussion before. If that was the case, and it was Brad, it seemed that there was a problem between him and Bill! It was obviously important that this information should reach Phelps, and perhaps even Hargrove. With a few deft clicks of the mouse Jeremy sent both messages on their way.

There was nothing much else of interest in the messages, which made it probable that Bill was not at all involved with the manipulation scam. Jeremy was on the point of logging off when he noticed that one of the new messages in the inbox dated the day after Bill was killed was from Columbus, whoever he was. Jeremy had hoped not to have to open a new message because it would clearly show the fact that someone other than Bill had been in to this mailbox, after all Bill could not open his own mail now! But the opportunity was too exciting, the presence of the message sent after Bill was known to be dead may indicate that the Columbus was not aware of this fact.

Throwing caution to the wind, he opened the message, “We appreciated your tip on Microline. It allowed us to close off a very successful operation. We like doing business with people who look after their friends. The next deal could be even bigger, but this time we meet in person, in the Keys. Ref. B.L., do not concern yourself. We will take care of the situation as necessary”

The intent of the first half of the message was very clear; Columbus was happy with the service he was getting from Bonanza, and wanted to do a new deal. Jeremy’s brain began to race. The identity of Columbus was unknown. Columbus wanted to do business with Bonanza again. Columbus had never met Bonanza, thus he had never met Bill. Columbus did not know Bill was dead, or even perhaps of the true identity of the individual he was dealing with. On the internet one can be whoever one wishes. If Jeremy became Bonanza, he could meet Columbus, maybe even actually find out who he was.

Jeremy was already signing off from Bill’s mailbox when he realized the import of the second half of the message! Columbus was assuring Bill he would take care of Brad, and within hours, Brad ends up dead. Could be pure coincidence, but it could also be that Columbus had Brad Killed.

Vanessa woke with a start. “Come on. get up, you have got to take me to Ann Arbor, I am going to Miami.” Jeremy was standing over her, shaking her shoulder. Once she was awake, he continued, “I’ll tell you all about it in the car, but move it my flight leaves in just three hours.”

As they again left the cottage, it was still dark, but the snow had stopped. The car skidded a little in the fresh snow that covered the laneway, but the all weather radials the beamer had cut through the three to four inch carpet with no trouble. It was only six to seven hundred yards to the county road, and they knew that would be ploughed even at this early hour. In this part of the country snow was part of life, and it could not be allowed to be disruptive.

By the time they reached the highway, twenty miles away, it was just getting light, and Jeremy was able to relax a little and tell Vanessa all he had found out. “It seems that Bill was not involved in the manipulation scam , and probably didn't actually know much about it. He was into an insider trading business that extended outside Merkel. Brad was apparently getting suspicious of what Bill was up to, and Bill knew Brad was up to something. Their mutual suspicions was making them both very nervous, and it seems that our joking conclusion may have been correct, they each may have been indirectly responsible for the others death. Now, if they were killed by the same man as we suspect, and if Columbus ordered Brad killed, he probably also ordered Bill’s demise. In the same breath he was organizing to do future business with the man he knew as Bonanza, so he did not link Bill Fernstine with Bonanza.

“So we have two murders, apparently done by the same person, but for two different reasons, and probably linked to two different scams. The common factors are the killer himself, and the man who ordered the killings, the man who calls himself Columbus. So I will go to meet that man.”

As much as Vanessa remonstrated that Jeremy’s plan to visit with Columbus was extremely dangerous, and he should not go alone, he was determined. He explained that she was required at the cottage to manage the flow of information, and to pass on the story to Phelps. “I sent an email to Columbus to tell him I will be there today. He will have to give me instructions as to how we will meet. You have to pick up the reply.” He knew he could do all that from anywhere that there was a phone line, but he did not want to expose her to danger, and her being here in Michigan and isolated in the cottage was the safest place to be, or so he thought.

They were approaching the airport in Ann Arbor, so conversation was curtailed. Being a much smaller operation than O'Hare, they felt sure that this airport would not be watched, but they still had to be careful. They were after all still the prime suspects in at least one murder. Jeremy insisted that Vanessa simply drop him on the curb, and return to the cottage. “As soon as you get a response from Columbus, send a message to Phelps, see if he can get some one in Miami to watch my back. I’ll call as soon as I land, so make sure you are not on the internet around six tonight!” The cottage had only one telephone line, and they had only one laptop between them, so she could see things were going to get out of control. Luckily she could not have foreseen just how chaotic it would become!

Her mind was occupied with the developments of the day, and Vanessa paid little attention to the road as she returned to the cottage. In fact she had already made the turn onto the laneway when something told her to stop. There in the fresh snow were the tracks of the beamer, a little smudged by the snow drifting in the light wind. Also there were a second set of tracks, these larger, and much fresher, and the tracks went in, but did not return. Whoever made those tracks was still down that lane, and it was not the mailman.

She sat immobile for a few seconds staring at the tracks, the hair on the base of her neck bristling. She wanted to run, but in the cottage was the laptop, all the addresses, everything she needed to help Jeremy. She had to go on, but she had to be careful. She quickly backed out of the lane, and continued down the county road to a spot a quarter mile beyond the cottage. Here was a crude car park which in the summer was used by the public to gain access to the beach on the lake. Luckily the snowplow had cleared just enough for her to edge the car off the road. She parked and looked around for a weapon. All she could find was a tire wrench, much lighter than she would have liked, but better than nothing.

Knowing that no one would expect an approach to the cottage from the lake side gave Vanessa some confidence as she crept through the deep snowdrifts up to a side window. The snow silenced her movement, but made per progress laborious. The crust was just strong enough to support her weight and allow her to see into the window. Peering through she could see in the dim light that this was the room Jeremy had slept in, and through the open door into the front room she could see a shadow moving. That would not be the way in.

Carefully she skirted round to the back of the house through even deeper snow only to find her way blocked by the wood shed. “Damn” she thought, and then smiled. In the timbered parts of the country, wood is an important fuel, and like many farm houses and cottages this woodshed was placed alongside the house with a small trapdoor leading directly into the kitchen to facilitate access to fuel during the worst storms of winter. Vanessa knew the shed was nearly empty, so getting to that small access would be easy, but getting into the shed through the deep drift snow was not. Having reached the outside door of the shed, she first had to clear the snow sufficiently to open the door, a task which would have been impossible was a carelessly discarded snow shovel not leaning conveniently on the wall of the shed.

Inside the shed was dark, but quite warm, and Vanessa was thankful for the respite. As her breath returned from the exertion of clearing the snow, the temptation just to roll up and hide was almost overwhelming. Two factors drove her on, the knowledge that Jeremy was almost in Miami and would certainly go it alone to disaster if she was not able to give him the information he needed, and a rustle under the woodpile that was almost certainly a rat also sheltering from the bitter winter cold.

After several minutes in the dark, her eyes had become accustomed to the gloom and she could see the outline of the little access door. Careful to avoid any sound she cleared the wood away, and slid open the door. The kitchen was in darkness but sufficient light came through the half open door to the front room for her to get her bearings. How she wished that door had been shut! Being as large as she was, she struggled through the trapdoor and was just firmly on her feet when a man came through the door. He held a large automatic pistol in his hand, but his arm was relaxed at his side, as he obviously did not expect anyone to be in the room. They saw each other at the same time, the man’s arm swung out and the gun pointed at Vanessa. Even as he did so, he seemed to relax, and Vanessa could almost feel the “its just a woman” look come over his face.

Without hesitation Vanessa leapt forward, one and a half steps was all that was needed. The first swing of the wrench knocked the gun flying, the return struck the man on his temple. Had the wrench been heavier, the blow would have at least put him out cold for hours, but light as it was, he had barely hit the floor before he staggered up again. But it was enough time for Vanessa to find the gun, and she was just turning to face him when she felt his hand grab at her arm. She fired. The jerk she felt on her arm where he held her told her that he had been hit, and when the grip relaxed she knew he had been hurt badly. It was still a surprise when he fell in a crumpled heap at her feet, not moving except for involuntary muscular shivers.

Leaving the man where he fell, Vanessa quickly checked the other rooms, they were empty. The man had been alone. Outside the front door she could see a red Bronco. The recognition flooded into her brain just as the adrenaline rush that had spurred her violent action subsided, and she collapsed into a chair. This was the man who had killed Bill Fernstine and Brad Layton.

Five minutes later, when the uncontrollable shudders which had wracked her body subsided, Vanessa got up and closed the door to the kitchen. She would not be returning to that room. She found the laptop and logged into Bill’s mailbox, carefully following Jeremy’s instructions. There was the message from Columbus. She printed it without absorbing the contents, knowing she would have to read it to Jeremy later. In the meantime there was work to be done. After retrieving the beamer and having a quick breakfast at the McDonalds in the village, she prepared a number of emails, to Phelps, “Watching Jeremy’s back”, to Fraser and Fraser, “Extending our vacation”, and to Laurie Merkel, “More information we will need”. As this last one detailed much of what Jeremy had discovered during the night, she also copied this to Phelps. She was just about to finish when she thought of Hargrove. She felt sure he didn’t really believe that she and Jeremy had anything to do with this, so, as quickly as she could type, she prepared a summary of all the things she knew about the murders.

This she would send later to Phelps, just before she left the cottage for good, with a request that he forward it to Hargrove, subject “Where to find the murderer of Fernstine and Layton”. She packed what little she had with her, as well as what Jeremy had left, and opened a beer to wait for his call.

Alex never reached Miami. His plane was descending to land in Atlanta, when he awoke from a doze. The dream he was having remained stark in his consciousness, there was a girl getting into the elevator this afternoon, a tall beautiful blond girl, and behind her was another girl staring at him as he gunned his red Bronco away from the body of yesterdays job, also tall, also blond, also beautiful, and as the dream turned into a nightmare he knew it was the same girl, and he knew she had seen him. All this added up to an unfinished job! He would have to return to Chicago.

Where to start. He staked out the Sears tower to no avail, tried the Palmer House Hotel, no dice, so what about a funeral. At last success, but short-lived . The driver of the screaming beamer was definitely the girl. He tried to follow but the damn cops got in the way, and the last thing he needed was attention from the cops. He did however get the plate registration from the car.

The good thing about being a criminal was that one did not have to do things legally, so he made a few phone calls. So called privacy laws stop people getting information about other people legally, but the stacks of data are actually available to banks, insurance companies, lawyers, and to anyone with a modicum of knowledge, and the intent to use it. So within an hour, he had the name, home address, and any alternate addresses of the owner of the BMW. After staking out the home address for twenty four hours, he moved on to the alternate address, a cottage on Lake Michigan, but no one was there either. He was just about ready to give up when he walked into the kitchen, and there she was. Twenty years earlier he would not have made this mistake, “Just a woman, but what a beautiful woman” he thought just as she hit him.

That would have been the end of that were it not for the call Alex had made to Jose telling him he would be staying in Chicago till he found and dealt with “a tall, blond, beautiful woman.”