False Witness (51 page)

Shane looked deep into the man's hollow eyes, trying to discern whether Parcelli could really be trusted. Out of the corner of his eye, Shane could feel Brandi staring at him, her intense gaze reminding him of how she felt about this. Through the years, he had learned to ignore her and ask forgiveness later.

This had the potential to be the biggest con of his life. Two hundred thousand for him and Brandi. One point eight million for Pastor Guptara and the Dalits in India. And he would never have to part with the real algorithm. There could be another windfall later if he sold that.

In the meantime, all it required was one final bluff and a little white lie.

87

The success of any sting depends on the setup. In magic tricks, they call it “the turn,” the place where you do something extraordinary, like make the bird disappear. The reemergence of the bird—“the prestige”—is only climactic if the turn has been executed to perfection.

In Shane's opinion, there had never been a more flawlessly executed turn.

All of the events of the past few days had been pointing to this one final meeting, a perfect setup to sting the government in its own game. Though Brandi had resisted at nearly every step, Shane saw it as the only way out.

Nearly two weeks ago, when they first formulated Plan B, Shane had spent the better part of three days substituting random numbers in the Abacus Algorithm for the ones that had been originally provided by Kumari. Nobody would ever break this encryption “code” because it wasn't a code at all, just random numbers meaning nothing. Thinking ahead, they had placed two different bogus copies of the formula in two adjacent safe-deposit boxes. If Plan B worked and the triad leaders were captured, Shane and Brandi knew that the government would demand production of the real algorithm. The feds would undoubtedly assume that a second document, in a different safe-deposit box than the first, would contain an authentic copy of the formula. They would work at breaking the encryption for years.

True to form, the government had demanded production of the authentic algorithm. Shane had asked what they were willing to pay for it. The opening offer had been one million. Shane knew he could negotiate two.

The money would be nice, but it was about more than the money. Shane's and Brandi's covers in the witness protection program had been blown when somebody sent a letter to Johnny Chin and revealed their whereabouts. Who would have done that other than the government? In trying to convince Brandi that they should go through with this sting, Shane argued that it was the only way to guarantee that the government would leave them alone and not rat them out again in an effort to shake the algorithm loose. If the feds thought they had gained possession of the authentic algorithm, they would leave Shane and Brandi alone.

In response, Brandi had quoted Bible verses. “‘A false witness will not go unpunished, and one who utters lies perishes.'” She argued that they could put their trust in their own cleverness or put their trust in God.

Shane said she was trying to overspiritualize things. “And what about our promise to Professor Kumari?” Shane had asked. “What about the children who need this money to have a chance in life?”

“Why don't you call Pastor Guptara and ask him if he wants tainted money?” Brandi suggested.

“Two million,” Shane said, meeting Parcelli's stare.

The sunken eyes bored into Shane, the same stare that had unnerved him four years ago, when he was lying in a hospital bed, disoriented from his first violent encounter with the Manchurian Triad. But this time, Parcelli's gaze struck no fear.

“I'm prepared to sell the algorithm,” Shane said slowly, decisively, “but not because it's a matter of national security. And not because we can't decipher the code. I'll sell it because our own government hung us out there as bait once before to pry loose this formula. You're the ones who wrote that letter to Johnny Chin, starting this whole mess a second time. And we've got every reason to think you'd do it again.”

When Parcelli didn't flinch, Shane had his answer.

Parcelli said he needed to make a call. After he stepped outside, Shane blew out a breath. “I hope this works,” he said.

“It'll work.” As usual, Brandi was the strong one. Her faith gave Shane an extra dose of courage.

Two days ago, immediately after their phone call to Guptara, they had agreed on a new course of action. Guptara said he didn't want any money tainted by a lie. He sided 100 percent with Brandi, urging Shane to do the right thing.

“You have to choose,” Guptara had said, “between the old Shane and the new Shane.”

After hanging up, Shane suggested a plan that shocked even Brandi. They would sell the algorithm to the government, but it would be the real algorithm, not the bogus one. If the feds didn't know the key was contained in Pastor Prasad's Bible, how would they ever be able to decode it?

“We never wanted to take that chance,” Brandi reminded him. “The government can bring all kinds of resources to bear on cracking this code.”

To an extent, she was right. It was the very reason Shane had not sold it to them in the first place. But the more time passed, the more he appreciated the brilliance of Professor Kumari. Would the man really use a code that even the United States government could crack without access to the key? And couldn't God confuse the minds of the government cryptologists, if that's what it took?

“That's why they call it faith,” Shane had said to Brandi. He relished the rare opportunity to stake out the spiritual high ground. “I say it's worth a chance.”

Shane's thoughts returned to the present when Parcelli came back in the front door, holding a revised contract for two million. He promised that the government would be watching Shane and Brandi every second to make sure that they didn't try to resell the algorithm to anyone else.

“And how do I know that this is the authentic code?” Parcelli asked.

“You've got to trust somebody,” Shane said. And then, to put Parcelli's mind at ease, Shane pulled out his computer and went into his e-mail archives. He showed Parcelli the e-mail he had received four years ago from Professor Kumari, a few short days after Kumari died.

“I'm sure the government can check the original servers and verify the timing and origination of this e-mail,” Shane said.

Parcelli asked a few questions and made a few notes. He appeared satisfied, promised that the money would be wired into Shane's account, and left with a copy of the encrypted Abacus Algorithm.

On the way to the airport, Parcelli called Carzak. “They sold it,” he said. “Two million. I had to get approval all the way up the chain.”

He could almost hear Carzak smiling from three states away. “What changed their minds?” Carzak asked.

“They really think we're the ones who wrote that letter to Johnny Chin,” Parcelli said. “They think we'd rat them out again if we didn't have the algorithm.”

“Interesting,” Carzak said. “Who
did
write that letter?”

“I think I'll find out at my next stop,” Parcelli said.

Shane and Brandi called Pastor Guptara and told him about their decision. He seemed a little nervous about the United States government possessing even an encrypted version of the algorithm, but he understood Shane's reasoning. From everything Guptara had heard about Professor Kumari, he agreed that the code was probably unbreakable. He prayed on the phone that the government would never figure it out. Then he thanked Shane and Brandi for fulfilling the professor's dying wishes and promised to spend every dollar they sent him on education for the Dalits. He urged Shane and Brandi to keep their focus on Christ.

“Remember,” Pastor Guptara said, “the government can give you a new identity, but only Christ can change your life.”

When they hung up, Brandi and Shane toasted the day's events. The more Shane thought about the bet he had placed on Professor Kumari's ability to encrypt the algorithm with an indecipherable code, the more his confidence grew.

He and Brandi touched plastic cups full of diet soda. “Here's to the witness protection program,” Brandi said. “One of Uncle Sam's finest inventions.”

88

Tuesday, April 15

Palm Beach, Florida

Parcelli intentionally showed up late at the Breakers Hotel, a five-star luxury resort covering 140 oceanfront acres in the heart of Palm Beach, Florida. The lobby decor featured thick Persian rugs rimmed with light blue and burgundy hues, marble porticoes, overhead arches lined with crystal chandeliers, and a constant flow of white Southern aristocrats with tanning-parlor skin and five-thousand-dollar face-lifts.

On his government per diem, he could barely afford to set foot in this place.

At 10:10, Parcelli strolled into the restaurant, feeling out of place as the only patron wearing slacks instead of shorts, his shirt tucked in, and his face showing his age. He was a runner in the midst of a golf resort, a lower-class working stiff in a hotel that privilege built.

He scanned the tables and did not see the man he was supposed to meet. He thought about that old adage that some people would be late for their own funerals. That was definitely the case here.

Parcelli had the maître d' seat him where he could keep one eye on the door. When the waiter came, Parcelli ordered an orange juice. He ignored the ocean view, deep in thought about the convoluted events of the past several days, events that led him here to consummate this deal with the dark side.

It was just last Tuesday that Parcelli had called U.S. Attorney Allan Carzak and explained his unconventional plan. The Brock girl had lost her dog and been threatened by the triad, the government had lost track of Hoffman and had no hard leads on the triad leaders, and Snead had filed his multimillion-dollar lawsuit. Parcelli's plan was unprecedented, but so were the stakes.

They could stage the kidnapping of Jamie Brock, telling nobody. They could immediately suggest to Hoffman's lawyer that Hoffman needed to cooperate with the feds in a sting operation in order to save Brock and obtain future protection for himself. Basically they would use Brock's kidnapping to obtain Hoffman's cooperation and then turn around and use Hoffman as mob bait. The end game: nab the triad leaders and buy the algorithm from Hoffman as part of the deal.

After a few initial objections, Carzak warmed to the plan. Parcelli promised that the feds would inflict minimal trauma on Jamie Brock. The kidnapping went off flawlessly. But then, as usual, the lawyers fouled everything up. Since Carzak and Parcelli couldn't find Hoffman, they had to work through Walter Snead. The savvy old codger saw this as an opportunity to feather his own nest and possibly keep his sorry carcass out of jail. Snead proposed a package deal—“two for one,” as he phrased it. He would talk Hoffman into working with the government to nab the triad leaders, but Snead also wanted a secret side deal.

And it was a doozy.

Snead would testify in secret grand jury proceedings about corruption in the Los Angeles court system. A small band of lawyers, including Snead, had been bribing judges on civil cases so that they could win enormous verdicts. On criminal cases, those same lawyers provided only token defenses, basically throwing the cases so that criminal defendants whom the judges wanted to nail ended up serving time in prison. Snead would provide details as well as the names of lawyers and judges. The FBI had been investigating this corruption ring for nearly two years, and now Snead could give them proof.