Helen Hanson - Dark Pool (11 page)

Maggie had seen the transformation before. Something about his gaze or the clarity of Travis’ green eyes disarmed the most hostile of enemies. Especially female.

He kept Barbara’s hand while she rose. “Are you alright?”

After wrestling her to the ground, Maggie knew she wasn’t packing a gun. Maggie approached. “My brother didn’t meet your husband that day.”

“He told me he was going to my cousin’s in Redwood City to watch the A’s game.” Her starry gaze wandered over Travis. “The A’s didn’t play that night.”

Ginger nudged Maggie. “Take her inside.”

“Do you think it’s safe?”

“The woman is in shock.” Ginger pushed. “Get her some water. Let her sit.”

“The police told me they found Brian here.”

Maggie said, “Travis, take Mrs. Carter inside.” Ginger winked her assent.

As the four of them trudged inside the house, Maggie whispered to Ginger, “Will you make sure Dad is still asleep? I don’t want him involved.”

From the foyer, Ginger cut right toward Dad’s room while they continued to the kitchen table.

Barbara let go of Travis’ hand when she sat. Maggie quickly brought her a glass of water.

“The police told me Martin Fender killed my Brian. I remember you from the trial.”

“My name is Travis, ma’am. Martin is our father.” Travis glanced at his sister.

Ginger came around the corner and nodded at Maggie. She stood sentry by the pantry door.

“You aren’t the one who—”

“No. My brother and I found your husband after—after it happened. We’re the ones who told the police where to find him.”

“Why did Brian come here?”

Even Maggie felt sorry for the woman now. “Mrs. Carter. My father has fairly advanced Alzheimer’s. We don’t know why they met that evening.” She waited for eye contact. “You do know they released my father. They found knife marks on his back. He acted in self-defense.”

Barbara Carter’s eyelids fluttered. Her upper body started to sway. Maggie thought they might have to scrape her off the floor. Instead, she shuddered as if shaking off a blast of extreme cold. They gave her a moment to regroup.

“I identified the knife. It was Brian’s.” She stared at Maggie now. “I hoped to make some sense of this. That’s why I came here.” Her face fell. “When I saw your brother outside—”

“Did your husband ever mention my father?”

“No. None of you. I confused the names. He never talked about the trial. I read what was in the newspapers.” She lay back in her chair. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Finally, they could agree on something. Maggie checked the clock. By the time she could get presentable, it would be too close to the dinner hour to start job-hunting.

Dad entered from the family room. Ginger moved toward him. He walked to the table and smiled at Barbara Carter. “Trisha, why didn’t you tell me we had guests?” He didn’t wait for a response before wandering out to the porch.

Barbara’s eyes followed Dad.

“He’s rarely lucid anymore. Trisha was Travis’ mom and my stepmother. She died two years ago.”

Barbara Carter turned to Travis, her mouth quivered when she saw the moisture of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She stood. “I should go.”

Maggie said, “Mrs. Carter—”

“Please call me Barbara.”

“Barbara—” Maggie put a hand on her shoulder. “Look. We’re stumbling too. If we can help you figure this out—”

Travis came to her side. “I’m sorry about your husband.”

“Thank you.” Her demeanor seemed sincere.

“May I ask you something? Did your husband ever mention the name Kingphisher?”

Maggie wanted to kick his shin but was afraid of hitting Barbara.

Barbara touched her mouth. “No. Who’s Kingphisher?”

Travis must have seen the heat rising from Maggie. He moved further behind Barbara.

“My father mentioned that name the day—the day it happened. I wondered if it had anything to do with your husband.”

What the hell was he up to now? Lying to Barbara. Maggie tried to make eye contact with Travis. Dad never mentioned the name Kingphisher. Maggie wasn’t even sure he’d remember it from the trial.

But the topic seemed to divert Barbara’s mind as she grappled with her loss. Finally, a loose fact to tug. A grip on a motive. A toehold on an answer. A pursuit that might let her forget for a moment that her beloved husband was dead.

Her auburn hair cascaded back when she lifted her head. “Kingphisher. I haven’t heard the name before. Do you think it might be important?”

“I do, ma’am.” His foot danced as he spoke.

She patted his arm. “Then I’ll let you know if I run across it.”

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

 

The stall warning indicator of the Mooney Acclaim intermittently blared. Vladimir eased back the yoke and kissed the numbers three-zero at San Carlos airport. The tires chirped on impact. He cut the power and braked hard but missed taxiway F. He made taxiway E and halted the aircraft before switching the radio to ground frequency.

 

He keyed the mike. “San Carlos Ground. This is Mooney seven, whisky, bravo. Request permission to taxi to hangar Juliet.”

“Roger. Mooney seven, whisky, bravo. Free to bypass. Cleared for taxi.”

“Cleared for taxi.” Vladimir released the brakes and idled across taxiway J, through the tie-down aisles, to his hangar on the right.

Anton and Yuri Suslova relaxed near the opening with a game of cards. Maybe gin rummy. They tossed their hands on the table when the Mooney came into view and swept the cards into a deck. They folded the table and chairs, laying them against an inside wall.

Vladimir turned left in front of the hangar, taxiing forward, well clear of the door. He powered off the avionics, cut the engine, and dropped the key ring on the dash. He slid the headphones off and packed them in his flight bag. After traveling at over 200 kph, the lack of motion felt strange.

Yuri drove the black sedan out of the hangar. Anton leaned over the wing to open the pilot door of the cockpit. He took the flight bags from Vladimir.

“You have good flight?”

“The weather was spectacular.”

Vladimir hadn’t flown since the day he reported for his stint at San Quentin. Because of well-placed connections, his time behind bars was hardly typical. Better food, cushier work, unlimited visitors—privileged in every respect. Prison heightened his appreciation for freedom. Brief as his stay was by sentencing standards, each minute chafed like a noose.

All because of Barney Reid. That son-of-a-bitch deserved to die. He’d be dead soon enough, and no one would care. Vladimir had already made the arrangements.

He stepped out of the cockpit onto the wing and climbed down to the ground. “I flew to Harris Ranch for the hundred-dollar hamburger.” He drew a pack of Dunhills from his shirt pocket and tapped out a stick. Anton fished for a lighter in his jeans pocket and was ready with a flame.

“More like three hundred with av-gas prices.” Anton laughed at his own joke.

Yuri hustled back to the hangar and returned with an airplane tow motoring behind him. He shoved the tow plate under the nose wheel and locked it into place. The other two men each took a wing as they guided the Mooney backwards into the hangar.

Vladimir pulled the chocks off a wall hook and positioned them around the nose wheel. He dragged on his cigarette. Smoke curled from his lips.

“We found the company that developed the financial code.” Anton unholstered his phone and hit a few buttons. “CBF Net. They are boutique software firm in Philadelphia. They specialize in programming for sectors with regulations. Government, heavy industry, financial services.”

“Has the SEC prosecutor—what’s her name?”

“Samantha Merrick.” They both turned toward Yuri when he spoke.

“Yeah.” Vladimir took another drag. “Has she talked to these guys?”

“Her team camped there for one month.” Anton flicked the phone screen with his finger. “Word is that the code did exactly what it was supposed to do. Make the trades. It linked to the New York Stock Exchange, NASDAQ, NIKKEI, SOFFEX, NYMEX, FINEX. You name it. But once they transferred the code to Patty O’Mara, they lost control.”

A vein pulsed in Vladimir’s neck. “I checked my accounts with O’Mara daily. I logged in to something. What the hell was it?” He pointed his cigarette at Anton. “Find out who managed his computers. Where were they? Who had any kind of access?” He threw down the butt and ground it out with his heel.

Anton entered some notes on his phone.

Vladimir opened a storage container mounted to the wall. “What have you learned from Mr. Kurt Meyers?”

“The attorney, Vonda Creevy, went to see Meyers yesterday. She brought boxes of things sent to her by Patty O’Mara.”

Vladimir positioned a remove-before-flight sock over the pitot tube.

“After she left his office yesterday, he searched on the internet for company named The Rockstag Group. So we did the same.” Anton caught a bottle of window cleaner Vladimir tossed to him and almost dropped his phone. He stepped onto the wing and sprayed the windshield. “The Rockstag Group is local, and one of their IT staff was killed two days ago, Brian Carter.”

“Killed how?” Vladimir threw a rag on Anton’s side of the plane and got up on the wing to wipe the windows.

“Stabbed. But the interesting part is The Rockstag Group was hacked over a year ago. A kid broke in and took copies of their records.”

His curiosity was finally aroused. “A kid hacker.”

“Travis Fender. He was only fourteen at the time. Brian Carter was the man who found the security breach. His father, Martin Fender, killed Carter on the same day the kid got out of jail.”

“What’s the connection to Patty O’Mara?”

Anton shrugged. “We don’t know if there is one, yet. Brian Carter was killed near the Fender’s home in Half Moon Bay. Why would the man come looking for trouble?”

“More importantly, why is Kurt Meyers interested?”

Yuri nodded.

“The police did not keep the father in jail.” Anton sprayed cleaner onto the side window and wiped. “He is not so old, but senile. But they found a knife in the father’s hand, so they know he’s the one who stuck it to Carter.”

“So it’s just the old man and the boy?”

Yuri smiled.

“And a very beautiful daughter, Maggie.” Anton raised his eyebrows at Yuri. He tossed the window cleaner back to Vladimir. “But it gets more strange. Brian Carter’s widow attacked the boy today at his house.”

Vladimir caught the bottle and dropped it in the box with the rags. His mood buoyed. “Find out everything about this dead guy, Carter. Get whatever police records you can on his killing. And his company. Get the transcripts to the kid’s trial. That might contain some leads.”

“You got it.” Anton tucked his phone in the case at his waist.

Vladimir walked outside the hangar. “We need to keep a step ahead of Kurt Meyers if we’re going to find that money first. Whatever is left, I want my cut before the SEC gets a hold of it.”

Yuri and Anton closed the hangar doors and replaced the lock. Yuri ran ahead to open the car doors.

Vladimir stretched his back. “Find out everything you can about this family, too. The Fenders. Where do they work? Do they know O’Mara? Where do they fit in?”

Anton grinned. “We’re already close to the Fenders.”

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

 

As Travis led Barbara out to her car, Maggie and Ginger stayed on the porch. Barbara was calm now and let him open the door for her. She reached through the window to touch his hand before starting the engine. Maggie stood her ground when he returned.

 

Travis tried to brush past her. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Good, then you tell me.” She blocked his path. “Because I don’t know what the hell to say to you.”

Ginger stood with her fists on her hips. “I think this is my exit. But take it inside, will ya? The neighborhood has had enough excitement.”

Shame flooded Maggie. “I’m sorry, Ginger.” She stepped aside to let their neighbor pass.

“Hey, I love you both.” Ginger called over her shoulder. “So don’t kill each other.”

Maggie stomped into the house. She knew Travis was on her tail. All the trouble he’d caused. Didn’t he know how hard he made it on everyone? She resisted an urge to slam the door in his face.

Travis stepped inside. “Her husband is Kingphisher.”

She whipped around to face him. “Her husband is dead. Dad stabbed him with a knife. Remember? She just tried to kill you, moron.”

Travis’ jaw muscles flexed. His Adam’s apple wobbled. Maggie’s words scored a direct hit. Why did she wish she could take them back?

He pushed past her.

“Travis.”

She reached for his arm, but he jerked it out of her grip. The sliding glass door rattled open and shut. A walk on the beach for Travis. What’s new? He spent half his time out there. The sea offered his every mood some satisfaction.

Where the hell was her satisfaction? She kicked the jute mat. While his ass was in jail, she’d taken care of their father all by herself. She’s the one who kept this leaky, freaking ship afloat. Now that he was out, she just wanted someone to help her bail.

Not more trouble.

She pushed back the first tears and sunk down the wall to the floor. Shit. The bills mounted on her desk, and she didn’t even have a job. Home school Travis. Take care of Daddy. Who the hell was going to take care of her?

The tears dropped from their own weight. She pulled up her knees, burying an eye into each one where her ripped pantyhose exposed the skin. Her last good pair. Well, not now.

And she forgot to shave.

At least she had her health. Isn’t that what they said when the hole caved deeper?

But she did have her health. She wiped an eye. Trisha hadn’t. Daddy didn’t. And she could sell some things until she got a job.

Her brain flashed on an image of Peter’s pukey face when her fist connected with his nose. As he hopped around the floor, his muling cries of outrage sounded pathetic. He was such an ass.

Punching him had felt stupendous.

She fell against the wall, and her body coughed out a giggle. The sound echoed in the empty foyer, and her diaphragm began to chug like an engine. Each burst, a little steam leaving the stack, venting until she bent over from laughing. She wiped her eyes with her hair, but she couldn’t stop.