Stone went through the other detritus in the wallet, and it was just that. Stone handed her the numbered card. “When John used the ATM card, do you know what the PIN was?”
“Yes, it was 5350. Mine, too. That was the house number of a place we lived right after we got married.”
“Did he use any other PINs?”
“No, just that one. Me, too.”
“Tell you what: tomorrow, find a bank with an ATM, put the blank card into it, and try to withdraw five hundred dollars, using your regular PIN.”
“Do you think it will cough it up?”
“Maybe, and maybe it will cough up a lot more. Are you good with computers?”
“Pretty good.”
“Tomorrow, go online, using that ten-digit number and ‘Cayman Islands,’ and do a Google search. If you find anything to do with a bank, see if you can get into their website, using your PIN. You might find it a pleasant experience.”
“Okay.”
They had dinner.
“Do you think the blank bank account might really have any money in it?”
“Bank accounts are all alike. They have in them what somebody has deposited, less what someone has taken out. Can you remember a time when John made a large cash purchase?”
“Yes, he bought me a Mercedes convertible — not a new one, but several years old — and he wrote a check for sixty-five thousand dollars to pay for it. The check was a different color than our usual checkbook, and now that I think of it, the name St. George’s was printed on it. I asked him about it, and he told me, laughing, to mind my own business.”
“Did John have a will?”
“We both do — did.”
“Have you read it yet?”
“No, we just left everything to each other.”
“Dig it out tomorrow and see exactly what it says.”
“All right.”
After dinner, it didn’t take long for them to get into bed.
The following morning, Stone was at his desk when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Vanessa Morgan on one.”
Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, did you get to work on time?”
“I was a couple of minutes late. I had to stop at an ATM.”
“Did it work?”
“It did, and now I have five hundred dollars I hadn’t expected to have.”
“Well, you have eight hundred from John’s wallet, too.”
“Can anybody hear us on this line?”
“No, it’s entirely private, and I have my phones swept regularly for bugs.”
Her voice became more confidential. “I got on my computer when I came to work, and I found a bank account associated with the blank card.”
“I rather thought you might. Is there anything in it?”
“Does this call come under attorney-client privilege?”
“First you have to hire me as your attorney.”
“Okay, you’re hired, starting now.”
“Then you’re covered.”
“The account balance is a million six hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wow.”
“What does this mean?”
“It means you’re a million six richer than you were yesterday. Can you print out a statement?”
“There’s a button for that.”
“E-mail me a copy of the statement.”
“Okay. I have a confidential question.”
“Shoot.”
“Is the money in this account tax-free?”
“Generally speaking, any income you receive is taxable, unless it’s deductible.”
“Well, I know that, but is my new million six tax-free? I mean, if I don’t pay taxes on it, will anybody know?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”
“I said, Will anybody know, if I don’t pay taxes on it?”
“We must have a bad line. I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”
“I get it.”
“I didn’t hear that, either. Bye-bye.” He hung up, and buzzed Joan.
“Yes, sir?”
“Scan and send a standard representation memo and a bill for a hundred dollars to Vanessa Morgan.”
15
Stone called a private line at the Agency.
“Lance Cabot.”
“Lance, it’s Stone.”
“What can I do for you, Stone? Busy morning.”
“Have you read the Maine medical examiner’s report on the autopsy of John Collins?”
“It’s right here on my desk.”
“You should read it. It tells quite a story.”
“Save me some time and tell me the story.”
“John Collins, it appears, was knocked unconscious and had vodka poured down his throat, then he was taken aboard the Islesboro ferry, probably in a car or van, shot twice in the head and left there for dead, which he was. He was probably ferried from the island to Lincolnville. The ferry got hit by a big wind and was blown sideways in the channel, so in the effort to straighten it out and get it moored in Lincolnville, nobody came across the dead body for quite some time.”
“And you know all this, how?”
“By reading the autopsy report.” Stone hung up.
Half an hour later, Joan buzzed him. “Lance Cabot on one.”
“Yes, Lance.”
“I’ve read the report and had a chat with the ME up there, and after some prodding he confirmed your view of his report.”
“Well, that makes my day,” Stone replied.
“Don’t be sarcastic, Stone. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I was expressing irony, not sarcasm.”
“What do you want me to do about this?”
“I don’t know, what do you usually do when an officer under your command is kidnapped and murdered on home soil?”
“Irony again?”
“That was sarcasm, founded on your apparent indifference to the loss of an officer.”
“I am not indifferent to our loss.”
“Good. I’ll look forward to the results of your investigation.”
“I will appoint an ad hoc commission to investigate the matter.”
“On which I will not serve,” Stone said. “I’ve read our contract and it does not require or permit me to run internal investigations.”
“I don’t like you throwing your contract up to me every time we disagree.”
“I’m a lawyer. Contracts are what I do. And this is the first time I’ve mentioned my contract when we’ve disagreed.”
“And don’t do it again.”
“I’ll reserve the right to do it anytime we disagree,” Stone said.
“Will you assent to advising the ad hoc committee?”
“When they’re done, I’ll read their report and make any comments about the results that I feel are pertinent.”
“I don’t think I’ll want you to do that,” Lance said.
“Are you afraid I’ll disagree with them?”
“You almost certainly will.”
“Then you think they’ll lie in their report?”
“I’m sure they’ll do the right thing.”
“And who gets to determine what’s right?”
“I do,” Lance said, then hung up.
Stone buzzed Joan.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please bring me a copy of my contract with the CIA.”
16
Stone and Dino were having dinner at Clarke’s when Lance entered the dining room and sat down at their table.
“Would you like to join us, Lance?” Stone asked.
“Thank you, I already have,” Lance replied, waving at a passing waiter and ordering a steak. “Would you like something?” Lance asked Stone.
“Thank you, we’ve already ordered.”
“I want to talk to you about the John Collins matter.”
“Is it all right if Dino listens in?”
“Dino has the same clearances as you,” Lance said.
“Granted, but I’m not sure he has the same tolerance for unadulterated horseshit,” Stone replied.