He half laughed. “I was talking about the stress. Why don’t we try dinner after the dust settles?”
“I’d like that.”
Holly followed the caravan onto I-5 north and then onto the Highway 70 exit a few miles later. For the next thirty miles the landscape was totally flat. Farmland receded into the darkness on either side of the highway. Marysville was deserted except for a few convenience gas stations. They followed Highway 70 as it jogged through town before again heading north toward Oroville. To the west, the black outline of the Buttes contrasted the distant glow from the San Francisco Bay Area.
Holly kept the conversation lighthearted and told him about her family, how she came from a long lineage of law enforcement. Her father was a retired City of Sacramento detective and her two brothers were both cops, one in Dallas, one in Modesto. She talked about her years at Boston College, her childhood, and of their family pet, a toy poodle named Pierre who used to sleep under the covers with her.
Either she hadn’t made the connection with his last name or she was being respectful of his privacy, but she hadn’t asked about his father. Given her assertive and frank nature, it was likely she didn’t know or she would’ve mentioned it. Everyone in the FBI knew of the Committee on Domestic Terrorism, especially SACs. The FBI was directly involved in the security of the nation, and domestic terrorism was high on its list of responsibilities. He knew sooner or later the subject would come up, so why not just get it out in the open and be done with it. Besides, she’d told him about her family. It seemed rude not to reciprocate.
“My father is Senator Matthew McBride.”
She looked over at him, then back to the road. “You’re joking, right?”
He said nothing.
“Stone McBride, chairman of the CDT?”
“I thought maybe you knew and were just being discreet.”
“I hadn’t made the connection with your name. It wasn’t in your file. Is that why you’re involved?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Probably. He and Ortega go way back. They served in the same unit in Korea. Harv’s close friends with Ortega’s son, Greg. That’s the personal favor he mentioned at the airport.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t change anything. I’m glad you’re aboard with us, but it does add a bit of depth.”
“We aren’t too close.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He didn’t approve of my career choice. His commanding officer was killed by a sniper. Deep down, he knows I’m no different than any other soldier. The man was a battalion commander. He called in artillery and tank support. He gave orders that cost lives on both sides. Hell, he had snipers under his command.”
“Then what’s the real problem between you? In a single word.”
“A single word?”
“It cuts to the chase, eliminates the BS.”
Nathan thought about it for a few seconds, and one word came to mind. “Okay, a single word. Absence.”
“Okay…”
“Your turn. In a single word, why aren’t you close to anyone?”
“That’s brutal.”
“It’s your game.”
She was silent for several miles and Nathan started to think she wasn’t going to answer. He thought her word would be commitment or dedication, something along those lines. She was married to the FBI and she couldn’t-or more accurately, wouldn’t-take time to form a meaningful relationship. Her answer surprised him.
“Fear,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about dinner.”
“Look at the bright side. Think of all the money we just saved,” he said.
“Seeing expensive shrinks?”
He nodded.
“I think my word was a little more honest than yours. Want to try again?” she asked.
“Not really, but I believe in playing fair.” When she didn’t say anything, he took a deep breath and jumped off the precipice. “Okay… My word is resentment.”
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere. What’s your best childhood memory of him?”
Nathan didn’t hesitate with an answer, because it was one of the few good memories he had, and he could probably count them on one hand. “We were fishing. I don’t remember where, some lake up near Yosemite. I reeled in a big one, or what seemed like a big one, you know, to a kid. He was so proud of me. I remember his smile.” He turned toward the window, grateful for the dark interior. “You’re way out of my league, Holly. After ten minutes, you’ve hit the bull’s-eye with me. Am I really that transparent?”
“Not at all. Just truthful.”
“This isn’t easy to talk about.”
“I appreciate you’re confiding in me. To be honest, I expected you to be all business.”
“I thought the same thing about you. I thought all you’d want to talk about was the Bridgestones.”
“I do want to talk about them, but it’s a three-hour drive up to the cabin. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Nathan said nothing.
“It’s a compliment.”
“If you say so.”
“How did you know about the buried money?”
“I didn’t. Not with certainty, but I’m betting the Bridgestones have been dealing in Semtex for awhile. They obviously don’t take checks as payment, so they need to move huge amounts of cash around and it’s not easy to do without someone on the inside of a financial institution. They can’t just fly overseas with suitcases full of cash. They’d need someone they really trust to launder it. They probably do it through bogus third-party loans, so they’d need someone to process the transactions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have numbered accounts in the Caymans or Switzerland or wherever. They’ve probably been making lots of smaller deposits over the years.”
“So how do we catch them?”
“You probably won’t.”
“If we could, how would we do it?”
He thought about it for a few seconds. “Follow the money trail.”
“It’s a dead end, we’ve looked at it.”
“You have to find their insider.”
Holly thought about that for awhile. “Any ideas who it might be?”
“I’d start with Leonard Bridgestone’s military background. Someone he knew from the Gulf War, someone who’s now working for a financial institution. Whoever it is, he’s getting a percentage for his services. There would be signs. Someone who’s living beyond his means. A huge house. Expensive cars. A stock portfolio, those kind of things. Things that can’t be explained by his reported salary. If nothing turns up, then do the same with Ernie.”
“Good thoughts.”
“Find their insider, and you’ll have a better chance of finding them. If it’s someone they’re blackmailing, or threatening, it’ll be nearly impossible. I suppose you could start with local branches, but it’s likely they travel out of state to make the deposits. Probably Nevada, where large cash transactions are common. Harv and I had a similar situation once. This woman was getting a divorce and suspected her husband was hiding money. His old college buddy had managed to launder just under three million dollars just like I described.”
“I thought you guys ran a security company.”
“We do, but we’ll take on private investigative work too.”
“So how did it turn out?”
“We blackmailed him.”
“You serious?”
“Yep. When we confronted him, he was really belligerent until Harv showed him the error of his ways.”
“Do I want to know what Harvey, you know… did to him?”
“No. At any rate, he wrote a check for just over two million dollars to stay out of jail. He was worth ten times that on paper, but as they say, cash is king. She offered us ten percent, but we only accepted three.”
“That was generous of you guys.”
“We made money on the deal.”
“Still, you turned down a lot.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t seem right taking that much. We were doing okay. Besides, she referred us to several new clients, who in turn referred more. It snowballed. In no time we were turning down jobs because we didn’t have the staff to keep up. There’s another possibility with the Bridgestones.”