“Five years later and he’s a senior VP, managing eight hundred million in client money. That’s quite the ladder to climb in such a short time.”
“You think he’s working an angle?”
Leopold dropped a handful of peanuts into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “We’re in the middle of a housing boom. It’s been six years since the dot-com bubble burst and people are throwing their money around again. Downtown property values have risen eight percent a year for the last three years in a row. That kind of growth doesn’t happen without a few people bending the rules. And Teddy Gordon keeps some interesting company.” Another handful of nuts.
“You think Needham is turning a blind eye?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“How do you know all this?”
Leopold shifted on his stool. “I had to get used to dealing with money at an early age. Just as well, really. How many fifteen-year-olds inherit enough money to pay a small country’s tax bill?”
“Poor you.” Mary took another sip of her drink.
“Look, there are tricks you can play to manipulate the market. It’s all based on perception. The money isn’t real; the value of something is based solely on how much someone will pay for it, and that’s controlled by how the buyer thinks everyone else is going to react. A smart banker understands how the buyer thinks, how the market thinks. He reacts accordingly.”
“Yeah, you lost me.”
“I’ll give you an example. A bank gives some poor schmuck a mortgage at 100% the value of his property. No deposit. The bank sells the debt off to a larger bank in return for instant cash. The larger bank bundles up a hundred crappy mortgages like this and sells insurance policies for ten cents on the dollar – because their analysts tell them it’s a sure thing. They do this with thousands of loans. The mortgage securities market grows. Nothing can go wrong, right?”
“Until the homeowner can’t make his repayments.”
“Right. Enough defaults, and it starts a chain reaction. The value of the house goes down, so the original bank can only reclaim 75% of the money. Or less. The larger bank who bought the debt is now on the hook for the insurance payout, and has to cover the full value of the mortgages they bundled together. They lose their cash reserves, meaning they stop lending. Or they go bust.”
“And if nobody’s lending, nobody’s buying. Everybody loses.”
“Yeah. Well, except for the guy buying up the insurance policies.” He winked.
“It’s an interesting theory. But what’s this got to do with Teddy?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out. “ He checked his watch again. “He’s running late.”
Mary put down her drink. “Maybe it’s time we arranged a visit.”
“What did you have in mind?”
The hotel elevator opened up into the hallway of the twentieth floor, offering a fine view of midtown Manhattan. The streets below were a blur of taillights, mostly taxis, and the nighttime sky was a muddy orange blur. The thick windows kept out most of the noise.
Mary pulled out a credit card. “He’s in room 2037. We’ll rattle the door, pretend we’ve got the wrong room. This should pass as a key card.”
“And if he doesn’t answer?”
She shrugged. “I’ll have housekeeping drop by.”
“It’s not exactly covert,” said Leopold.
“You give people far too much credit. Worse case scenario, he stiffs on the tip.” Mary led the way down the long corridor until they reached Gordon’s room. “Ready?”
Leopold nodded. “After you.”
Mary rattled the handle and leaned her weight against the door. She jostled the handle again, louder this time. Leopold glanced down at the floor, noticing the strip of light under the door. If Gordon came to the peephole, he’d cast a shadow. Mary tried the handle a third time and swore, a little louder than was necessary. There was no movement from within.
“Is there another way out of the hotel?” she asked.
“Only for staff.”
“Maybe he figured out we were tailing him and bolted.”
Leopold shook his head. “He had no clue.”
“We could have missed him. We’d better check downstairs.”
“No. The lights are on inside. With these systems, they go out whenever you leave the room and take your key card with you.”
“Maybe he forgot.”
“Or maybe he’s ignoring us.”
Mary nodded and slipped her credit card back into her clutch. She pulled out her NYPD shield. “Okay. Looks like we might have to go find the manager.”
After a heated argument with one of the hotel supervisors, Mary threatened to make a scene. The man acquiesced and sent them back upstairs with one of the housekeeping staff, an aging gentleman who smelled of pipe tobacco. He swiped open the lock and waved them through.
Mary pushed open the door slowly. Leopold saw her right hand drift down to her thigh, resting just above the hem of her dress. Now he was looking closer, he could make out a subtle bulge under the material. He had wondered where she was keeping her gun. Mary stepped through, as quietly as possible, and Leopold followed.
The hotel room was spacious, though modestly appointed. There was a small desk and seating area near the window. The view looked out toward Central Park a few blocks away, the treetops just visible. The room itself would have been unremarkable if it weren’t for the smell; there was a sweet, sickly scent filling the air – like raw steak left out on the countertop to get warm. Leopold felt his stomach clench.
The mutilated body of Teddy Gordon was splayed out on the bed like a torn rag doll. Blood adorned the walls, what looked like arterial spray, a thicker pool forming on the sheets. Gordon’s skin showed pale white where it wasn’t soaked in red, a deep gash across his throat. There were several darker spots across the abdomen and the eyes were wide open, staring up at the ceiling. The housekeeper stepped through behind them and gagged.
“Dial 9-1-1,” Mary said. “And tell your security team to seal off the exits. Whoever did this might still be in the hotel.”
The doorman nodded and scampered away without a word.
“Blake, don’t touch anything,” she said, as Leopold noticed an ornate fountain pen lying on the desk.
“Relax.” He walked over and leaned in, taking a closer look. “I know the protocol.”
“You do when it suits you. Now just behave; I need to call this in. I can have a forensic team here in less than twenty minutes.”
“What about our friend with the key? You told him to get the police on the phone.”
Mary smiled. “I just needed him out of here. Whoever did this is long gone.” She glanced down at the body. “I have to say, as far as surveillance operations go, this doesn’t exactly rank in my top ten.”
“Since when did you get mixed up with the fraud unit?” the tall detective eyed Mary, looking her outfit up and down. “They’ve been tailing this guy for weeks. Never found nothing. Then you show up and we got a corpse? Maybe I should haul you in.” He laughed.
“You never heard of sharing resources?” she replied, arms folded. “Captain Oakes volunteered me.”
“And him?” the detective jerked his head in Leopold’s direction.
“Like I said. Sharing resources.” She broke off the conversation and joined Leopold at the desk, leaving the detective alone next to the body on the bed. The forensic team was late.
“Friend of yours?” Leopold asked.
“That’s Bullock. Works homicide with me. Thinks he’s God’s gift or something.” She shrugged. “Though you’ve got to admit, it doesn’t look good. We take over the case and the guy winds up dead.”