“If you accept my proposal I will make you a gift of the dealership and provide working capital for it. In return, you would sign a prenuptial agreement limiting your settlement, in the event of a divorce, to the firm and any money I have invested in it.”
“That is a very generous proposition, Ellie,” Charles said. “And I think we could make each other very happy.”
“Then why don’t we start the honeymoon right now, my dear,” Barbara said, snuggling up to him.
ED EAGLE TOOK the phone call from his friend in the State Department. “How are you, Bill?”
“I’m okay, Ed, but I have some rather startling news for you.”
“Go ahead and startle.”
“I’ve had an e-mail from the attorney general’s office. The general received a phone call today from a highly placed officer of the Mexican Ministry of Justice.”
“They’ve extradited Barbara?”
“No, the president of Mexico has pardoned her.”
Eagle was dumbstruck.
“Ed? Are you still there?”
“Just barely, Bill,” Eagle replied. “Have you any idea how this happened?”
“I don’t have any details, only deductions. Have you seen the piece in The Wall Street Journal?”
“Yes, I have.”
“You must know, Ed, that when the sort of money she has inherited comes into play, things can happen in a hurry, especially in Mexico.”
“Are you telling me that Barbara bribed the president of Mexico?”
“Of course not. That isn’t how it works.”
“How does it work?”
“My best guess is Barbara got herself a lawyer who knows people down there, and he passed a large sum of money to someone in the Ministry, who then took care of things and distributed the funds accordingly, probably in cash. That’s only a guess, mind you, but I’ve heard of other cases where this sort of thing happened.”
“I could sue her for injury resulting from her attempt on my life, I guess,” Eagle said.
“Come on, Ed. What would you say to a client who walked into your office and wanted to sue a billionaire?”
“All right, all right.”
“Ed, I’m awfully sorry about this. I did what I could.”
“Bill, you did more than I could ever have expected. Thank you.” Eagle hung up and sagged in his chair.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Barbara called a number at the Nassau Airport and chartered a twin-engine airplane for the day. She instructed the company to file a flight plan to Georgetown, Cayman Islands, and to file a return flight plan for later in the day.
BARBARA TOOK A CAB from the Georgetown airport to a large bank on a principal street and walked in. She approached a man at a desk in the lobby.
“Good day, madam. May I help you?” he asked.
“Yes. I’d like to open an account.”
“Please be seated,” he said, holding a chair for her. “What kind of account would you like to open?”
“A very private account,” she replied. “One with a number, not a name.”
“Of course, madam.” He looked at his computer, selected a new account number and printed a document. “Please sign here,” he said, indicating a line at the bottom.
“I don’t wish to sign anything,” Barbara said. She took the twenty-million-dollar cashier’s check from her purse and handed it to him.
“Of course, madam,” the man said. “There is no necessity for a signature. Would you like a card that can draw on the account from anywhere in the world?”
“What a nice idea,” Barbara said.
He typed a few more keystrokes on his computer. “The card will be ready momentarily,” he said. “Would you like us to invest the funds for you, or would you prefer an interest-bearing account? Currently the rate is three percent.”
“The latter, please.”
He printed another document. “This will tell you how to view your account and statements online. Nothing will be mailed, since we don’t have your name or address.”
Barbara received the credit card and her deposit receipt, put them in her purse, shook the man’s hand and left the bank. She got into her idling taxi, went to the airport and was flown back to Nassau. Upon entering the country she used the false passport she had had made in California.
“What did you do with yourself today?” Charles asked.
“I built an escape hatch from my life,” she replied.
He looked at her oddly but did not question her further.
The following day they were married. Then the Gulfstream flew them back to San Jose.
59
Tip Hanks stood in front of the cameras and received his silver cup and a dummy check for nine hundred eighty-nine thousand dollars. The amount would automatically be wired to his account.
During the past few days he had set a course record and won the tournament by four strokes. He gave an interview to a television journalist, then returned to the clubhouse, showered and changed, and gave another, longer interview to a woman from The Golf Channel.
That night he had a steak dinner, watched TV, then turned in early. He slept late the following morning, and it was noon before he got to the airport. He drove up to his Santa Fe home at four thirty that afternoon, noticing that Dolly’s car was not parked out front. She must be running an errand, he thought.
He walked into his home, unpacked his clothes, put the dirty things into a laundry hamper, then walked to his study next door. The room seemed oddly messy. He looked into Dolly’s office and found drawers pulled out and papers scattered around the room. His first thought was a burglary, and he went back into his study to phone the police, but he found a pink message slip stuck to the phone.
Bye-bye, sweetie. It’s been fun.
He was still puzzling over that when the phone rang, and he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Tip, it’s George Herron.” Herron was his accountant.
“Hello, George. Did you see I won the tournament yesterday?”
“Yes, I did, and congratulations. I’m afraid I have some troubling news, though.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I looked through your accounts online today for some tax information, and I saw that your prize money had been wired into your account this morning.”
“That is as it should be, George.”
“The problem was that it was wired out of your account only a few minutes later to an account in Singapore, as were another seven hundred thousand dollars from a bond fund in your brokerage account. Do you have a bank account in Singapore, Tip? Because if you do we haven’t been reporting that to the IRS, as the law requires.”
“No, George, I don’t have an account in Singapore, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Who else is a signatory on your accounts?”
“Well, my assistant, Dolly…” Tip stopped and looked at the pink message slip. “Oh, shit,” he said.
CUPIE ANSWERED THE TELEPHONE.
“Cupie, it’s Dave Santiago.”
“Hey, Dave. How are you?”
“Not so good.”
“Did you pick up Barbara?”
“No, I didn’t. The D.A. wouldn’t sign the warrant. Not enough evidence and too much money.”
Cupie’s face dropped. “I saw the newspaper piece. He was scared off by the money?”
“Of course, he was,” Santiago replied. “Think about it. If you were the D.A. would you issue a warrant on a woman with that much money, without a murder weapon or physical evidence? You’d be looking at another O.J. trial against the best lawyers in the country. It would cost the county millions.”
“I see your point,” Cupie said. “Thanks for trying, Dave.”