Brooks reached over. He touched the bag in front of Agent Raff.
‘These were printed in the same series as bills used last summer to buy weapons grade explosives. Those bills were laundered through two foreign banks, one in the Cayman Islands, and the other in Mexico City. Both banks took in substantial quantities, as in two million, give or take.’
‘Just like these?’
‘Exactly like these, same series, same print run, and though you wouldn’t see many of this style inside the US, there’s a lot of cash floating around the world. The dollar is still the world’s reserve currency and sometimes caches pop up. The banks probably didn’t want the bills, but they have relationships, and their client is a black market weapons dealer who moves a lot of money so they took them in.’ He paused before adding, ‘We were already tracking this particular weapons dealer.’
‘Why?’
‘It has to do with a threat I can’t talk to you about yet. In fact, I’m here to ask for your complete cooperation. We need your murder files on Alan Lansing Krueger. How these counterfeit bills tie in or why Krueger had them, I don’t know the answer to. But as we learn information and as I can, I’ll pass it on to you.’
‘Is that why there are three of you here?’
‘Special Agent Swensen could have come alone, but I don’t want any misunderstanding. We want to work with you.’
‘OK, well, the murder files are on my desk. I’ll go get them and you read through them in here, and then decide what you need.’
‘We’d rather take them with us and get more time to go through them.’
‘Of course you would, but that’s not going to happen.’
‘I’m not bullshitting you when I say this is a very significant threat.’
‘And I’m not stonewalling you. I’ll give you plenty of time to read but I don’t think you’re going to find there is that much in these files.’
La Rosa was at her desk when Raveneau walked back into their office. She took off her reading glasses. She watched as he picked up the Krueger files and the murder logbook for 1989.
‘I’ll be right back.’
In the kitchen he opened the logbook and showed them the entry with Krueger’s murder. He explained the columns with date, time, location, victim’s name, if known, and the inspectors assigned to the case and their summary.
He slid the murder files out to the middle of the table like a plate of sandwiches.
‘Inspectors Goya and Govich didn’t have much to go on. They had a piece of paper with a phone number and the name Captain Frank, but that turned out to be a phone booth at SFO. The Secret Service did their own investigation but they didn’t share what they found with us, so you probably already know a lot more than I do.’
He looked at each of them. ‘I’ll give you fifteen minutes or so to read. Then we can talk.’
When he returned to his desk he slid one of the CD copies of the murder videotape into his coat pocket and asked la Rosa, ‘Want to go across the street to Roma and get a coffee?’
‘Aren’t they still in there?’
‘They’re reading.’
‘That won’t take long.’
When he shrugged, she stood up.
‘All right, I’m ready for coffee anyway.’
Everybody shares the same elevator in the Hall of Justice and you can wait awhile for a ride. When Raveneau and la Rosa returned from across the street there was a wait and the Secret Service agents were a little agitated as they got back upstairs. Also, the kitchen smelled like popcorn, so they probably weren’t alone in here and didn’t get much of a chance to talk. Brooks avoided eye contact now, focusing on the cuff of his shirt as if something there had suddenly drawn his attention. That changed as Raveneau laid the CD on the tablecloth.
‘What do you want me to copy?’ Raveneau asked, and sounded like he was at a baseball game getting a head count before he went for hot dogs and beer.
‘Everything,’ Brooks said. ‘And what’s that in front of you?’
‘A copy of a videotape we received Tuesday.’ He turned to Raff. ‘I’ve never known the Secret Service to look at counterfeit bills and mistake them for real bills. Are you sure it was a mistake?’
‘Inspector, it was before my time, but I’m sure it was a mistake.’
‘Would you mistake them?’
‘No, but now we know what to look for.’
‘And you didn’t know then?’ She looked to Brooks. She wanted his permission and when he didn’t say anything, she said, ‘The bills are very, very good.’
‘What am I starting to remember?’
Raveneau knew la Rosa was starting to remember something as well, something right about that time. He asked Raff, ‘North Korea. Help me here, Michelle. When we called out the North Koreans for counterfeiting our money it was around that time wasn’t it?’
Raff looked to Brooks and Raveneau said, ‘Let her talk.’
She waited until Brooks nodded.
‘The bills you’re referring to were called supernotes. That was because the quality was so good. Before these here on the table the first known supernotes were
spotted by a banker in the Philippines in 1989.’
She touched the bills in front of her.
‘That’s what these are now. Alan Krueger’s murder occurred before those in the Philippines were spotted, so now these are the first known supernotes.’
Raveneau took a moment to absorb that.
‘And these are the same as those passed by the weapons dealer to the Cayman Island and Mexican banks?’
Brooks answered. ‘That’s correct.’
Raveneau pulled Brooks’ card from his coat. ‘What’s the best number to call you at?’
‘Hand me that and I’ll write it on the back.’
Raveneau watched him write a number and when he got the card back slid the CD across the table. ‘Watch this and then give us a call. You’ll recognize Krueger. If not, he’s the taller one.’
THREE
Retired homicide inspector Henry Goya was in his mid-sixties. Not too long ago he had a quadruple bypass surgery that Raveneau knew about only because Cynthia, the Homicide Detail’s secretary, was good friends with Goya’s daughter. Goya’s daughter also got her dad to join Facebook.
On his Facebook page Goya looked like an ageing, slightly crooked art dealer. A photo showed him in a wicker chair on the porch of his house in Petaluma, gray beard cut short and carefully trimmed, left hand resting on the carved knob of a wooden cane. In his right he held a thin cigar. A whiskey sat on the glass-topped table in front of him, a small terrier expectantly at his feet. The photo was probably meant to communicate the wonderful time Goya was having in retirement, but Raveneau had heard the quiet excitement as Goya connected with the Krueger case again.
‘Did you find the Canadians?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Did my old partner ever call you?’
‘No.’ Raveneau had left several messages for Ed Govich, but Govich was yet to call back.
‘Henry, tell me again what you remember about the Canadians other than there was something off about them.’
‘OK, well, they were newly-weds here for a week and staying at the Hyatt, so that put them in the general area where the murder happened. They told us they liked to walk a city when they visited it, and that’s what they were doing, out walking when they decided to cross under the Embarcadero Freeway. They happened upon the body and called 911. Ed and I weren’t far behind the first uniform officers, so we got to the Canadians right away, and they were helpful, especially her.
‘But she was also shaken up or seemed to be. Or she was nervous. Ed thought she was nervous in the way a suspect might be, but I didn’t get that from her. Now the husband was different. He got huffy later when we asked them to come in with us to Homicide, and when they did come in he stopped cooperating. That’s part of why Ed flew up to Calgary to re-interview them.’