Paradise Falls (47 page)

“Is there another way?”
 

He shrugged. “If I had a crowbar I could just knock them over and pry them open, but I don’t have a crowbar and we don’t have time.”

“So that’s it? We’re stuck?”

“No, there’s something I can try.”

The locks on the cabinets didn’t look like proper locks on a safe. They looked more like the locks on a briefcase, a sequence of dials, but there were four not three, which meant ten thousand possible combinations. Jacob tugged on the drawer, but there was no give.

“Do me a favor,” he said. “Grab the middle drawer and pull.”

“What?”

Jacob crouched, grabbed the handle on the bottom drawer, and gave a yank. Jennifer grabbed the middle one, planted her feet, and put her legs into it. The whole cabinet budged just an inch, scraping the concrete floor. Jacob let go and grinned under his mask.

“Lazy,” he said. “They didn’t bolt them down. “Come on.”

It took them five minutes to pull the cabinet out far enough for Jacob to crawl on top of the cabinet, wedge himself behind it, and push with his legs against the wall while Jennifer pulled. When he had enough room, he crouched behind and tapped on the back of the safe. It sounded surprisingly hollow.

“Thinnest part of any safe is the bottom, followed by the back,” said Jacob. “There’s bolt holes. They were supposed to secure it to the wall.”

“So?” said Jennifer. “The back is a solid piece.”

“Except it isn’t,” said Jacob. “The holes go all the way through. Imagine if this place flooded. Hold on.”

He took something from his belt, a reel of thin material attached to a box with a tiny screen that lit up when he turned it on.

“Fiber optic camera,” said Jacob. “I can at least see if they’ve got what we’re looking for.”

He threaded the thin filament through the bolt hole on the back of the cabinet, and frowned.

“Damn it,’ he muttered.

“What?”

“Not here. They should have a paper copy of the charter with all the members’ names on it.”

“Are you sure?”

He sighed. “If it’s here it’s not in alphabetical order.”

After he crawled back up and over, he slowly pushed the safe back in between the others, shouldering into it with his right side. He was panting, and wiped at his face before he remember he was wearing a mask.

“You okay?” said Jennifer.

“Fine. Wounds still closed. Need to think.”

“Maybe they’re upstairs. Or they keep them somewhere else, like a warehouse. Aren’t there document storage companies?”

Jacob nodded. “If it was something else I’d have checked that first.” He waved a finger at the cabinets. “They probably have scanned files in cloud storage and physical copies at a document retention service for all of these, but James is paranoid. His house in Paradise Falls is like a fortress. I don’t think I could get in.”

“So maybe they’re not here at all,” said Jacob.

“Maybe. The attorney listed as a contact to serve as his registered agent should have an office upstairs. Let’s look there.”

Jennifer nodded, but Jacob went up first, slowly. He eased the basement door open, screwed the lock back in place, and headed for the grand staircase that led upstairs. Jennifer looked around as an itch grew between her shoulders, like someone was watching her. The kitchen was empty, though, and there was no movement on the first floor. Jacob was already on the second floor landing. Jennifer rushed up behind him. Thankfully, the doors had name plates. Jacob walked along, tapping them with his finger. He looked to the other side of the hall and sighed.

“Try the next floor,” he said.

The top floor of the house was cut in half, divided into two offices behind frosted glass doors. Jacob crouched in front of one, pulled his lockpick kit from his belt, and started working on the knob.

It swung in freely.

Jacob stood up and short, sharp knives appeared in his hands, the grips tucked between his fingers. Jennifer fell behind him and put her hand on the butt of the pistol tucked behind her back. Jacob looked at her, nodded, and swung the door open. As he did, the light flicked on inside. Jennifer moved on instinct, sliding the pistol free of the holster, aiming from behind Jacob’s right shoulder. She stopped, confused.

There was a woman sitting
on
the desk, legs folded under her in the lotus position, leafing through a file. Like Jacob and Jennifer she was all in black, wearing a belt of pouches and a pistol on her hip, and there was a compact, short barreled submachine gun slung on her back. Olive skinned, with dark hair cut in a tight pixie cut, she didn’t look up for a moment. She had striking eyes. Jennifer kept her pistol pointed at them.

“Hello, Jacob,” the woman said, calmly, still leafing through the file. With a glance she said, “You must be Jennifer. You can remove the masks. I already know who you are.”

Jacob didn’t move. His muscles looked like boulders under the tight black fabric. If he whipped his hands Jennifer was sure all of those knife blades would be planted in the woman’s chest. Not to mention that she would not miss from ten feet away.

“Can we skip this?” the woman said, closing the folder. “I don’t want to fight you until I can convince you we’re on the same side. I know you’re fast with blades, Kane, but I’m faster. I’m not going to let her shoot me, either, so it’s best if we talk.”

She put the file on the desk and raised her hands, spreading her fingers. She turned them this way and that, proving they were empty and there was nothing strapped to her wrists, either. She kept her hands up for a half minute and rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” said Jacob.

He lowered his hands and slipped the knives back in place. Jennifer let her pistol fall to her side, finger next to the trigger guard, but did not holster it.

The woman slipped off the desk, still holding her hands up.

“I’ve already pulled all the files you need. Documents for James Katzenberg’s LLCs, some tax records and correspondence.” Slowly, she tapped a stack of folders on the desk.

“Why?” said Jacob. “Who the hell are you?”

She smirked. It brought out a scar on her face, running from the left hand corner of her mouth. As Jennifer studied her features she could see where the woman’s nose had been broken and not quite set right, but she was still pretty, in a tomboyish way.

“Call me an interested party.”

“Not good enough. Shoot her, Jennifer.”

“Wait,” she chirped. “Alright. I can respect that. I’m running an investigation on James Katzenberg. Something big is about to happen, and he’s involved. We think he’s planning to run for President.”

“We?” said Jennifer.

The woman eyed her. “I represent a group.”

“That’s not vague at all,” said Jacob.

“I can’t tell you anything else, except that we’re watching you, we’re interested in you, and we’re on your side.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“I have the files. I could have left and you’d never know I was here. This would turn into another dead end. Instead I offer them freely. I already took copies.”

Jacob tilted his head tot he side, and his eyes narrowed.

“Put your hands on top of your head.”

“It’s better if I just keep them up. I have a razor in my hair.”

Jacob blinked.

“Fine. Keep them where I can see them. Jennifer, cover her.”

Jennifer snapped her pistol up into a three-point stance and kept it aimed squarely at the woman’s head as Jacob snatched the stack of files off the table. As Jacob moved closer, Jennifer realized how short she was, barely five and a half feet tall in combat boots. Jacob stepped back behind Jennifer and flipped open the folders.

“Okay,” said Jacob. “We have an ‘orgy of evidence’ here.” He closed the files and tucked them under his arm.

“Yes. All yours.”

“How do I know it’s not fake? You could wait here, give me false information and laugh at us while we leave the real files in the cabinets.”

The woman cocked her head to the side and gave him an appraising look. “You
are
paranoid. I’m impressed. I didn’t think of that.”

“Right,” Jacob muttered. “Let’s say these are legitimate and let’s say I believe you. Why are you interested in helping us?”

She shrugged. “My superiors see some value in you. There was talk of approaching you directly after your, ah, excursion last week. Very bold, that one. We could offer you resources. Others argued that you’re too much of a risk. You don’t seem like the type to take orders.”

“Not particularly,” said Jennifer.

Jacob glanced at her and smirked under his mask.

“We’re at an impasse,” the woman said. “Look, you have what you need. I’m taking a risk. We could use that information just as easily as you. I’m under no obligation to share.”

Jacob eyed her, then looked at Jennifer. “Keep her covered. I need to get to their router. Be a minute.”

Before she could acknowledge him, he ducked out of the office.

“So,” said Jennifer.

The woman eyed her. “You’re the girlfriend.”

“Partner,” said Jennifer. “Also girlfriend.”

“Right. He’s hot.”

“Yeah, well, he’s spoken for, and you’re not his type.”

She snorted.

“Oh, my. Aren’t you the fiery one. We’re interested in you, too. We have been for a long time. Watching. The world moves on its own wheels, Jennifer Katzenberg, and you are in their center, ready to be ground beneath them. You have no idea what is coming.”

“Have you been waiting to say that all day?”

She smirked and shrugged. “Yes. Being cryptic is like a drug.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighed.

Jacob ducked back in.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We’ve got what we need.”

“What about her?” said Jennifer.

Jacob shrugged.

The woman wriggled her eyebrows, dipped a little at her knees, and jumped. She grabbed an opening in the ceiling, a hatch to the attic, and hauled herself up in a single, smooth motion.

Jacob looked at Jennifer.

“I could do that, too,” she said.

“I know. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

8.

Jacob sat in the back of the Lincoln. Jennifer huddled up next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Okay,” she sighed. “What was that about?”

“I honestly have no idea,” said Jacob. “I’m a little concerned about that. Something smells wrong.”

“What now?”

“Now?” said Jacob. “Now we get to the hotel.” He yawned. “I’m beat.”

Jennifer nodded. She was tired herself. Leaning on his shoulder, swaying with the car as Faisal pulled onto the interstate, sleep crept up on her, and before she knew it, she was drifting between wakefulness and sleep, jolted every time the car went over a bump or took a turn. It was a good three hour drive from Wilmington to the District of Columbia, even in the middle of the night. Jennifer woke up somewhere in Maryland and sat up, groggy and more tired than she was when she was awake. Jacob was still reading.

“Well?” she yawned.

He swallowed, hard. “Jennifer,” he said. “I’m not sure you want to see this.”

“What?”

She sat up. He rolled his shoulders, looked out the window, and passed her the folder. The document was turned back to the last page.

“What is this?”

“Articles of incorporation for the LLC that worked on the bridge. That page lists the members. The owners of the company.”

Jennifer read the list.

James Katzenberg, fifty percent.

Adam Katzenberg, thirty percent.

Elliot Katzenberg, ten percent.

Franklin Katzenberg, ten percent.

“W-what is this?” she squeaked. The papers were shaking so hard she couldn’t read them anymore.

“He’s listed as an owner,” Jacob said, his voice flat, even, too calm. “That doesn’t mean he was involved with it in any way.”

“Involved,” Jennifer said, calmly. “Are you… does this mean he owned part of the construction business?”

“On paper, yes. Like I said, he might not even have known.”

“Jacob, he
signed it.
I know this signature. This is his.”

She snapped the folder shut and shoved it back at him. He took it and slipped it in with the others.

“What else?”

“The main one is a holding company. All these others are owned by that one.”

“They can own each other?”

“Yes. It keeps different business lines distinct. Common practice.”

Jennifer heard him, but she was staring at her feet.

“Jennifer?”

She shook her head.

“He never told me about any kind of business deal with his father. I thought they disowned him.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We don’t know what this means.”

Jennifer turned away and curled up on the seat, pulling her knees to her chest. Her eyes burned, her throat went dry, and it felt like she’d swallowed her heart. She looked at her ring and wanted to rip it off her finger.

“There’s something we’re not seeing here,” said Jacob. “We don’t have the whole picture, only a small part of it.”

“You keep saying that. Every small part of the picture is worse. Is there anything in my life that isn’t…” she trailed off.

“What?”

“That’s it,” said Jennifer. “Elliot wasn’t looking for my shares in the stupid dairy company, he wanted Franklin’s files.”

“What files?”

“His stuff. I thought it was just schoolwork, you know? He had to write case file analyses and papers for his law classes. He had boxes of the stuff.”

Jacob sat up. “Where is it now?”

Jennifer gave him a look.

“I want to clear his name. I want to believe he was a good man. Everything you’ve told me about him says he was.”

She softened, and nodded.

“I kept it at the house. It should be in our bedroom.”

She blinked.
Our
bedroom. She dropped that so naturally. Jacob noticed. A hint of a smile flickered across his features.

“I haven’t gone through it since you had it moved over,” said Jennifer. “I never even thought about it.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jacob. “Of course. It makes perfect sense, now.”

“What?”

“You were his wife, Jennifer,” said Jacob, as if it wasn’t obvious. “If he earned proceeds from his share in the business, you’d inherit.”