Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Vera––shit, it’s so good to see you!” She covered the ground between us in a couple of long-legged strides and engulfed me in a tight, almost suffocating hug. “We just got back from Panama and we had to see Bash.”
Bash?
“I’m so sorry if we woke you.”
“No, no. Don’t worry. This is important,” I rushed to reassure her.
“Yes, unfortunately,” she agreed, her expression troubled. My gaze slid to Sebastian and Gideon, who were following the conversation. Gideon’s dark, exotic eyes met mine briefly. He greeted me with a short nod.
“Did you get any answers?” The eagerness in my voice rang loud and clear. I was anxious for this to be over, for Sebastian to be safe.
With the audit by the American Department of Justice hanging overhead, Gideon and Shay had flown down to Panama to see if they could get any information about a bank account that had been wiring large sums of cash to Horn & Cie. Everyone agreed that something nefarious was in play. After repeated attempts to reach them by phone, to no avail, Shay had decided to take matters in hand.
“We sure did,” Shay said with pride in her voice.
“By placing yourself at undue risk,” Gideon chimed in, his tone sharpened by irritation. Shay’s large, dark eyes narrowed. Sifting her long tapered fingers through her hair, she scratched with her short red nails…and ratted it up. I was getting a clear picture of why it looked like that now.
“It wasn’t unnecessary. As a matter of fact, it was extremely necessary. And I wasn’t at risk––why the hell am I even trying to reason with you when I know it’s easier to turn water into wine!”
“Playing strip poker with the bank manager is no way to gather intel,” Gideon fired back.
“I got the malware in his laptop didn’t I!”
“Can we stay on point?” Sebastian bit out, a confused frown on his face.
Taking a deep breath, Shay continued. “We weren’t having any luck going the conventional route. And tracing the money wire proved fruitless. Whoever’s doing this is using Russian proxy servers. In other words, we can’t follow the signal to the point of origin. We have no way to trace where the money originated. Obviously, it wasn’t clean––no one goes through this much trouble to hide clean money.”
“What does that even mean?” I mumbled.
Shay tried to smooth her hair with no success. “That they purposely sent the money from an untraceable location. The Panamanian bank account it was wired into is assigned to a shell company, adding another bag of dicks to this clusterf––”
“Shay,” Sebastian interrupted.
“Sorry,” she grumbled. Taking a deep breath she continued. “We have no idea who owns the account. Panama is notorious for this. And here’s the kicker––they’ve wired over 325 million dollars in the last ten years into an account undersigned by Charles Hightower.” The room went dead silent. I didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t have to understand all the intricate ins and outs of this deal to know that something highly unethical was happening.
I found Sebastian leaning against the pool table with his hands planted on the burgundy felt, his head hanging low. More than anything I wanted to comfort him. However, this was not the time, nor the place.
“Is there any way that this can end well for Charles?” I asked, still holding onto a sliver of hope. I knew how much Sebastian cared for the man, and it killed me to even consider what he must’ve been feeling. What would one more betrayal do to him?
“We thought he was providing tax shelter for another party. That might still be the case…or it could be far worse,” Sebastian admitted, his eyes bleak. “He made trades with that money, held onto it for six months, then wired half the amount he initially received to a non-profit organization based in Beirut.”
“You’ve lost me again.”
“He’s washing money. Could be drugs, could be any number of illegal enterprises. And then he’s sending it to a nonprofit, a charity we know nothing about.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting in discomfort.
“Ten years…” The thought slipped out of my mouth. “Did your father know?”
Sebastian’s eyes met mine, his face a beautiful ruse of tranquility. And yet, the turmoil beneath the surface was plain to me. “I don’t know,” he answered softly, his expression indicating that he’d already formed an opinion. “But I’m gonna find out.
Chapter Eight
The following day, Fedpol, the federal department of police, the Swiss agency that handles money laundering cases, agreed to meet with Sebastian at Horn & Cie. I refused to be left behind. The man I loved was in danger––whoever was responsible had already come dangerously close to succeeding––and I wanted to know exactly what we were dealing with. Needless to say, I pestered him until he agreed to let me sit in on the meeting.