“Unlikely…but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.”
“I can tell you that he doesn’t live at the Boise address he gave the leasing company. And that his MasterCard bill goes to an entirely different address: a mail drop in Hicksville.”
“Long Island?”
“At the risk of sounding like an infomerciaclass="underline" But wait—there’s more. The investigator I sent to Idaho turned up something else: Harold Golden began leasing these trucks four years ago. The man who runs the company remembers him because Golden wanted the exact same trucks that had been returned that very day from another lessee. Guess who that lessee was?”
Romy shrugged. “Mercer Sinclair?”
“Close. Manassas Ventures.”
“Doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“Manassas Ventures was the source of the start-up capital that allowed the brothers Sinclair to get SimGen rolling. Consequently it controls a huge block of SimGen stock.”
“And the connection to Harold Golden?”
“At this point, nothing beyond the trucks. But guess where Manassas Ventures has its office.”
“Hicksville?”
“Exactly. And it has a strange way of doing business. The company rents space in a small out-of-the-way office building but doesn’t seem to have any employees. Manassas Ventures is on the door, but it’s a door that remains locked all day, every day, week after week. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it.”
“A man who doesn’t exist and a business that doesn’t do any business.”
Romy felt a tingle along the nape of her neck. “Am I detecting a pattern here?”
“I think so. Ironically, we’ve been aware of Manassas Ventures all along but never paid any attention to it. I’d assumed it was simply another of the countless venture capital groups that have popped up since the early nineties—one that happened to get lucky and strike it very rich. But I should have known never to assume anything where SimGen is concerned.”
“If Manassas owns a lot of company stock, then it’s logical for it to be involved in SimGen doings.”
“But logic seems to be taking a breather here. For instance, if you were an investment group with SimGen on your list and flush with capital, what would you be doing?”
“I’d be crowing. I’d have impressive offices to attract new ventures to underwrite.”
“Exactly. Yet Manassas Ventures’s only address is a deserted space in a nowhere building.”
“Almost as if they’re hiding.”
“They are. Behind Harold Golden. I believe Manassas invented him as a layer of insulation between itself and the truck rentals. And it almost worked. We were just lucky that our investigator asked the right questions on a day when someone at the leasing company was in a talkative mood. Otherwise, we’d never know the Manassas connection.”
“But why insulate itself?”
The tingle in Romy’s neck moved across her shoulders and down her spine. She sensed the situation moving beyond simply wrong…something sinister at work here.
Zero said, “Because I’m betting that Manassas Ventures has ongoing involvement with SimGen’s day-to-day workings that it doesn’t want anyone to know about. And the most likely reason for keeping an activity secret is that it’s illegal.”
“But SimGen is one of the richest corporations in the world, with a lock on a unique product”—she hated when sims were referred to as “product,” but this time it fit—“in high demand. They’re practicallyminting money. They’ve got it all. Why risk a connection to something illegal? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if whoever is behind Manassas Ventures is pulling strings inside SimGen. Pulling strings that lead to the basic research facility, perhaps?”
That struck a nerve…might explain the company’s adamant refusal to let OPRR near the building, even with a court order.
Zero went on and Romy could sense him fairly vibrating with anticipation. “If something illegal or even quasi-legal is going on, we may have found the lever to crack open SimGen’s wall of secrecy. All because you showed up earlier than expected.”
“And caught a worm.”
“Maybe a snake. I’d say Manassas Ventures is long overdue for an in-depth probe of its workings and personnel, wouldn’t you.”
“Anything I can do?”
“In regard to Manassas, no. But as for our friend, Patrick Sullivan—”
“Oh? So he’s ‘our friend’ now, is he?”
Romy sensed a smile behind Zero’s ski mask. “Not a close friend, not a bosom buddy, but…” His voice trailed off.
“But what?”
“I don’t know…there’s something about him. Maybe I’m feeling a little sorry for him because he’s going through the worst time of his life.”
“Really?”
“His girlfriend dumped him, his house is a charred ruin, he’s been living in a motel room for weeks, and SimGen is putting the screws to his career.”
Romy felt her interest growing. “How so?”
“They’re pressuring Sullivan’s clients to drop him.”
She shook her head in amazement. “How do youknow all this?”
“I have my sources.”
“You’re a SimGen insider. You’ve got to be.”
“Back to Mr. Sullivan?”
Romy tore her mind away from the tantalizing possibilities of Zero’s identity. Sullivan…his predicament did sound pretty awful, but the shyster deserved it.
“Don’t expect me to shed tears for any lawyer, especially one of the headline hunting variety who’s been taking those sims for a ride.”
“You’re assessment of him might be accurate, but I’ve got to hand it to him: He’s lost a number of big clients and he’s still hanging tough.”
“No kidding?” Romy was surprised. “I’d have thought he’d have folded like an old suitcase by now.”
“Well, I don’t expect him to hold up forever, so I believe it’s time we stepped in. And speaking of suitcases…” Zero lifted a large metal attaché case onto the table. “I’m hoping the contents of this will bolster his fortitude.”
He slid it toward Romy who released the catches and lifted the top. She repressed a gasp at sight of the stacks of currency.
“How much is in here?”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
“What’s wrong with a check?”
“I feel a man like Mr. Sullivan—I am not blind to his failings—will require more concrete proof of the seriousness of our interest.”
Here was concrete, all right—a whole sidewalk. “How do I approach him?”
“Directly, I would think. I’ll leave the details up to you.”
Zero rose. A sign the meeting was over.
“But where do I say the money’s from?”
“Again, I leave that to your inventive mind. But since I know how lying bothers you, I’m going to make things easier. I’m giving the money to you, no strings attached.”
“You’rewhat ?”
“That’s right. To do with as you wish. Buy a house or a fleet of sports cars if you want. It’s all yours.”
As the shock wore off, she began to understand. “I see what you’re up to.”
Zero said, “But should you decide to approach Mr. Sullivan with it, I suggest being nice to him. You might find yourself spending a good deal of time with Mr. Patrick Sullivan.”
“I can hardly wait.” She snapped the lid shut on the money. “That’s it? You’re letting me walk out of here with a quarter of a million in cash?”
“Yourquarter of a million. Remember?”
Romy smiled. This was turning out to be not such a bad day after all.
2
THE BRONX
Needle Lady and Needle Man take Meerm upstair. Show room. Nice room.