It Happens in Threes Page 8

  He punched a speed-dial.

  “Boss.”

  “What took you so long?” he barked.

  “Ah, we had a bit of a problem.”

  “What does that mean? What happened? Is Ruby okay? Put her on the phone.”

  Hmm. Interesting reaction. He’d never seen, nor heard of Mickey ever losing his cool or getting personally involved.

  “She’s not exactly…”

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded in short clipped words.

  “I intercepted a delivery, but didn’t check it before giving it to her. She received a dead flower bouquet.” He heard Mickey suck in a breath on the other end, waited for him to rage, but he didn’t so he continued. “It looked as if they’d been plucked off, like a little girl singing the song, ‘Mommy had a baby and her head popped off’.”

  “Shit!”

  “My sentiments exactly. I screwed up. Now she wants to slice and dice me. And she’s not exactly dressed for the occasion.” Arching a brow, he watched as Ruby tried to cover herself as if she just realized she was stark naked. The knife still in her hand, he thought she might cut herself.

  Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, he said in a low tone, “Shugah, be careful. You’re going to hurt yourself and then I’ll truly be in deep doggy doo-doo with the boss man.” He glanced around. Seeing a kitchen towel on the sink, he grabbed it and tossed it to her.

  She eyed him with speculation and he nodded. Grasping the knife with white knuckles, she hurriedly held the towel in front of her slim form.

  “Jake!”

  Mickey’s roar brought him back to the conversation. “Sorry. Just trying to...um...protect...the little lady. Wouldn’t want her to cut herself or catch a cold.” He mumbled the last part.

  “Put her on the phone. Now.”

  He held out the cellular to her in one hand, and put the gun away with the other. “It’s for you,” he drawled in a slow calm manner trying to put her at ease.

  Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “Look.” He set the phone on the island between them. “Go ahead.”

  Jake watched as she stepped toward the island, never taking her eyes off of him.

  Cautiously she spoke. “Hello?”

  “Are you okay? What happened? Where the hell were you?” he growled.

  “Michael?” He heard her mutter something unintelligible before she continued.

  “I was in the shower and then this guy crashed through my door. You’re responsible for this...this...Southern Neanderthal scaring the heck out of me?”

  “His name is Jacob.”

  “What?”

  “The Neanderthal’s name is Jacob Frisbie. He’s an agent. I asked him to watch you.”

  “Damn you Michael. How dare you.”

  She was pissed. He pictured her wet and indignant, hand on hip. The vision in his mind made him smile.

  “Where are you and what do you want?”

  “I don’t have time to explain everything over the phone. I want you to fly up here.”

  “Where the heck are you? You leave me in bed after...after we...”

  “Did the mattress mambo, took a roll in the hay, had sex, made love,” he finished for her.

  “Are you out of your flippin’ mind?”

  Ruby was ticked. With any luck, his surprise would get him out of the doghouse. At least he hoped it would.

  “Damn, woman. Put a cork in it and listen.” Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he continued. “Quit asking so many questions. You’re not doing anything else.” He could picture her face a light shade of red with annoyance. “Ruby, when have I ever asked you to do something like this?”

  “Never. It’s always wham, bam, and no thank you ma’am.”

  He cringed at the verbal slap, but went on. “It’s important. Please. Trust me.”

  She huffed. “You’re certifiable.”

  “Yeah, but you love me. Once you land you’ll be driven to my location and we’ll explain everything then.”

  “So you’ll be there? Who are we?”

  “Not now. I’ll enlighten you when you get your cute fanny here. Get going and put Jake back on.”

  “Fine. I’ve got to get some clothes on anyway.”

  “What? Ruby! What did you say?”

  “Yeah, boss.”

  She ignored him and Jake was back on the line. “Did she just say she had to put clothes on? Was she naked?”

  “Um. No,” he replied.

  “Jake?”

  “She was covered. Honest.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Michael changed the subject. “I need you to fly Ruby up here and bring her to George’s.”

  * * * *

  When Ruby reappeared in the kitchen, the Neanderthal, Jacob, leaned one hip against the counter, a soda in hand, and Stetson back on his head. He appeared relaxed, but alert. Just like Michael.

  At her entrance into the room, he set the soda down, and removed the Stetson in a gentlemanly gesture.

  “Nice clothes.” He grinned. She turned a vivid shade of crimson.

  “Ruby, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jake Frisbie, special agent, bodyguard, and travel administrator extraordinaire.”

  Eyeing him, Ruby took the outstretched hand offered to her. Craning her head to look up at his face, she met pale green eyes. They held a hint of danger and she could see why he was a secret agent, and was glad he was one of the good guys.

  He must have figured out what she thought because he grinned and said, “Don’t worry. I don’t bite...much.”

  She returned his smile and relaxed. “Thank goodness. Besides, I doubt you’d enjoy the meal.”

  “You look like a tasty morsel to me. I can see why Mickey wants you watched.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I can take care of myself.”

  “Uh-huh. You’ve got a hell of a kick for a little lady. I’ll give you that much. But if you’ll recall, you didn’t exactly get away.”

  She started to disagree with him when he herded her toward the front door like cattle.

  “Come on, Shugah. We’ve got a plane to catch.”

  TEN

  Shaking hands, Michael asked, “How was the flight, Jake?”

  “Can’t complain,” Jake replied, shooting a conspiratorial glance toward Ruby. Her mouth curved into what could only be classified as a slow secretive smile.

  Michael’s eyes shifted from one person to the other. What the heck was going on? They only met a couple of hours ago and already they acted as if they’d known each other forever. He should be relieved Ruby didn’t seem to hold his bodyguard idea against Jake, but his gut twisted with annoyance. They were touchy feely and that disturbed him.

  “I had excellent company,” Jake said. He wrapped an arm around Ruby’s shoulders in a warm, friendly embrace.

  Michael’s mouth clenched tight, and prayed for controlled patience. “I’ll take her from here.” He knew his control failed when Jake’s brows quirked in inquisitive amusement, but he handed Ruby and her laptop over to him.

  “I leave you in good hands,” Jake said to Ruby. “You need anything else, Shugah, you just holler,” he drawled.

  Standing on tiptoe, she leaned into Jake, provided him with a tender kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Jacob.” Michael bristled at her soft husky whisper.

  “Jake. Call me Jake,” he corrected, clearing his throat, his eyes roaming over her figure. “We know too much about each other to be on a formal name basis. It was my pleasure.” He tipped his hat and closed the door behind him.

  Michael dipped his head and lowered his voice. “You two seem to have become fast friends.” He couldn’t keep the edge from his tone.

  * * * *

  The office was huge. Large-paned windows let in plenty of light. Built-ins lined one whole wall, and half of another. There were oodles of books, all of them read, if the wear along the spines was any indication. She would love to take a closer look at them. The leather furniture was a perfect match for the
man who apparently enjoyed comfort in his office space.

  Michael’s cool voice broke into her contemplation. She looked up, his blue eyes narrowed with accusation. “Hmm?” She lowered her voice, being purposefully mysterious. “Umm. Oh. Are you asking about Jake?”

  The tension in him vibrated against her skin as he placed a hand at her lower back, pressed gently but firmly, and guided her toward a sitting area.

  “Ruby Goodman, meet George Trent, my Director.”

  His boss? Why was she meeting his boss?

  Extending hands, they shook. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  Guessing his age to be mid-forties, George Trent had short, midnight-black hair with a hint of silver at his temples, making him look distinguished and intelligent. His eyes, cognac in color, glinted with happiness. He had large strong hands that suited his wide, broad-shouldered frame. Wearing a pair of black Dockers and a charcoal polo shirt that fit well, Ruby ascertained George kept himself in excellent shape.

  “Likewise. Please have a seat.” George directed her to a high wingback chair made of soft, worn, coffee brown leather. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  Taking the seat offered, Ruby declined the drink with a shake of her head.

  Michael sat on the sofa in close proximity to her while George sat in a chair matching hers at the opposite end of an intimate sitting area. Ruby took in her surroundings. Why had Michael summoned her to his boss’s home?

  Before Ruby had an opportunity to voice a question, George spoke. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll explain why I invited you here.” Her puzzlement must have been obvious on her face.

  Invited? More like commanded, summoned.

  She nodded. “Please.” Why did the Director refer to Michael as Mickey? Only his friends and family used his nickname. She never had. It never seemed to roll off her tongue.

  “Mickey explained to me you’re an independent consultant and you have certain skills that may apply to a particular project we have outstanding at the moment.”

  She glanced at Michael and speculated. What expertise? What project?

  “Excuse me sir, but what skills could I possibly have that you need?”

  “Mickey informed me of your tremendous hacking and software development talent. In particular, you’ve experience working with the government and security software pertaining to financial companies.”

  Glaring at Michael, she responded, “I’m not sure boasting about my hacking ability is appropriate. But it’s all true. I still don’t understand.” The Director furnished her with a crooked grin. “Besides, don’t you have someone on your staff or team or whatever it is that can do the same things?”

  “We did. He’s no longer in our employ.” His sharp, brief response made her wonder about the other agent. Was the agent dead? Curious, she didn’t think it wise to ask for more particulars.

  “Shall I go into further details?” Intrigued, she nodded, hunched forward, elbows on knees, and listened intently.

  “We have a situation with a Frenchman who likes to siphon funds from international financial organizations depositing them elsewhere. He runs a software consulting business, a front to his criminal activity. Our team needs someone with a certain knack to catch this thief. Mickey has come to the conclusion you possess the expertise required.” Taking a sip of coffee, he continued to explain their reasoning.

  “We’d like you to help us develop a security program to allow us to track his movements of the monies and trap him. We need to be able to identify him, his activities, and provide the evidence of his illegal dealings in order to apprehend him and his elusive partner or criminal ring.”

  “If this is larceny or simple embezzlement why is this not the FBI?” Both Michael and his boss winced at the mention of the other government organization.

  “It’s a little more complicated than that. It’s actually money laundering. May I explain?”

  “Please.”

  “Money laundering is necessitated by the requirement for criminals, be they drug traffickers, organized criminals, terrorists, arms traffickers, blackmailers, or credit card swindlers, to disguise the origin of their criminal money so they can use it with more ease. Money laundering involves a series of multiple transactions used to disguise the source of financial assets. Those assets get used without compromising the criminals who seek to use the funds. These transactions fall into three stages. The first is placement, the process of placing, through deposits, wire transfers, or other means, unlawful proceeds into financial institutions. Second is called layering, the process of separating the proceeds of criminal activity from their origin through the use of layers of complex financial transactions. The last stage is integration. This is the process of using an apparently legitimate transaction to disguise the illicit proceeds. Through integration the criminal tries to transform the monetary proceeds derived from illicit activities into funds with an apparently legal source.

  “Money laundering has devastating social consequences and is a threat to national security. It provides the fuel for drug dealers, terrorists, illegal arms dealers, corrupt public officials and other criminals to operate and expand their criminal enterprises. Crime has become increasingly international in scope, and the financial aspects of crime have become more complex, due to rapid advances in technology and the globalization of the financial services industry. This is where your expertise comes in to play, Ruby.

  “Modern financial systems, in addition to facilitating legitimate commerce, permit criminals to order the transfer of millions of dollars instantly, using personal computers and satellite dishes. Money is laundered through currency exchange houses, stock brokerage houses, gold dealers, casinos, automobile dealerships, insurance companies, and trading companies. Private banking facilities, offshore banking, shell corporations, wire systems, and trade financing all have the ability to mask illegal activities. In doing so, criminals manipulate financial systems in the United States and abroad.

  “Unchecked, money laundering can erode the integrity of a nation’s financial institutions. Due to the high integration of capital markets, money laundering could also adversely affect currencies and interest rates as launderers reinvest funds where their schemes are less likely to be detected, rather than where rates of return are higher.

  “Ultimately, this laundered money flows into global financial systems where it could undermine national economies and currencies. Money laundering is thus not only a law enforcement problem but poses a serious national and international security threat as well.

  “The December 2000 signing of the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime in Palermo, Italy represented a significant development in the effort to promote international cooperation against money laundering and other forms of organized crime.”

  And Michael had been involved in abating such activities. She had no clue.

  “Does this criminal have a name?”

  “Nicolas La Rue, also known to us as ‘The Frenchman’.”

  At the mention of the Frenchman’s full name, Ruby’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. It couldn’t be the same Nicolas La Rue.

  Michael caught her reaction. “Ruby, what is it?”

  Shaking her head in denial, she answered, “I don’t know. I mean I’m acquainted with a man by the same name. It couldn’t possibly be the same person.” She directed her question and her gaze to Michael. “Can it?”

  “How do you know Nicolas?”

  Ruby chafed at his brusque tone, but answered his question anyway. “Nico was a good friend, a mentor of mine at my very first software development job for a government contractor. He practically taught me everything I know about writing code. He did teach me everything about hacking. But it can’t be him. I worked with him for several years. I can’t picture him as an international thief. It can’t be the same person.”

  “I have no actual proof, just keen instincts and a common denominator.”

  George cleared his throat and chimed in.
“Well, this is an interesting development. This changes everything. It could work to our advantage to have Ruby on our team. Since she knows the man she could get closer to him.”

  Michael looked anxious, his eyes bulged and his face paled a shade. “What do you mean?”

  “I suggest Ruby create the application under our guidance and protection. Then we send her into his office undercover where she installs the application, and gathers intel.” George rubbed his hands together with eagerness. “This couldn’t have worked out better.”

  “George, this changes everything. It makes it more personal for Ruby. She was never to have any contact with the target, strictly behind the scenes. It’s too dangerous. I no longer think this is a good idea. She can’t do it.”

  Ruby’s mouth quirked to one side. Agitated at the turn of events, Michael paced the rust ceramic tiled floor, flailing his arms in imitation of a broken windmill. When he caught her grin, he stopped mid-whirl.

  “I agree it changes the tactics, but for the better. An agent would have to get close to him anyway. It seems this may be a faster, more efficient approach.”

  “I would have done it. Or found another operative to go undercover. I don’t like it.” Michael stated.

  She coughed a bit and cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me gentlemen. Do I get a say in this?”

  “Why, yes.” George beamed and shot Michael a side-glance.

  “No,” Michael said. Then he turned to face her.

  “Excuse me?” she shot back.

  Michael threw back his shoulders, puffed out his chest. “I said, no.”

  Ignoring the Director for a second, she focused her attention on Michael, his eyes shooting flares.

  “Listen. I’m a grown woman who can make up her own mind. I decide what I can or will do. I don’t need two boys squabbling over me like some toy in a shop.”

  Amused with the description she had given, George chuckled. “Quite right my dear. What can we do to help you make your decision?”

  “You must have some detailed information gathered on Nicolas. I’d like a copy of it. I’d like to know if it is my former mentor. And Director Trent, how dangerous do you think it really is for me? I mean I do have a pragmatic side. I’d like to know the risk of injury or death.”