The Fugitive's Trail (14 page)

New York City

After his feeble attempt to stop Plymel’s arrest, Crigler returned to his office and waited an hour before placing a call to the company’s law firm. He was connected to the managing partner without delay.

“Good morning, Alton. What can I do for you today?”

“I will assume you have already heard about the incident we had here this morning.”

Wesley Elliot paused only a moment before answering, “Yes and I read a very disturbing article this morning in the
New York Times.
Very unpleasant. Is this call about engaging our services to handle Abel’s indiscretions?”

Crigler smiled. “No, we need to divorce ourselves from Mr. Plymel on these matters. P&G Global, and any company associated with P&G Global, cannot be seen as endorsing his behavior in any way.”

“I see.”

“Good.”

“How would you suggest Elliot, Elliot, and Brimmer handle any request by Mr. Plymel, should he call us for representation? I need to mention, one of our partners was already involved this morning.”

“I understand, but I’m sure you have agreements with various other law firms in town to handle, uh, let’s say, conflicts of interest.”

“We do.”

“Good, when Abel calls, please use your discretion and suggest one of those firms.”

“Very well. That’s how we will handle it. I appreciate your call, Alton. Several of the partners were concerned about how we could handle his—”

The phone went dead. Silence. Crigler frowned, laid the phone down on his desk, stood, and walked out of his office. Outside in the cube farm, voices could be heard cussing. Heads were popping up, looking around, and asking if their neighbor’s phone was working. His assistant rushed to his side. “Our computer system just went down. Since the phones are tied to our network, they’re down as well. No email or internet connections. I’m going to IT and check. Hopefully they can tell us how long it will be.”

Crigler nodded. “Thank you, Bob. Make sure they understand that our business depends on communication with the market. The longer we’re down, the more money we lose.” His assistant turned and practically ran toward the IT department.

Returning to his desk, he stopped and realized too many incidents had occurred too close together. The
New York Times
article about Plymel, the search warrant, and now the computer system going down—was it the work of the man Plymel was looking for? His office door opened and Bob leaned in. “IT department just told me we’re having a denial-of-service attack on our server, whatever that means.”

“How long before they can fix it?” said Crigler.

“He didn’t say, he was too busy.”

Crigler stood and moved toward his office door. “Maybe he’ll talk to me.” He left his office and walked to the IT department. As soon as he opened the door, he knew the situation was grim. The glassed-in room where the company’s rows of servers were kept appeared to have a thin cloud floating within its confines. He noted several men rushing from server to server, opening panels and disconnecting cables. He saw the head of the IT department at his desk on a cell phone, furiously writing notes on a pad. Walking over to the desk, he stood in front of it and remained silent as the man finished the call.

Looking up, Irving Greer raised one finger indicating he was almost done with the call. “Okay, I think I have it. I’ll call you back after we do this.” He ended the call and looked up at Crigler. “System’s fried. Whoever did this was good, very good. That was our tech at Microsoft. He’s only heard of this type of attack once or twice.”

Crigler didn’t like what he was hearing. “How long before they’re working again?”

Greer shook his head. “I don’t know. Could be awhile. We have to replace a lot of equipment and rebuild the system. It might be two or three days.”

“That’s unacceptable, Irving. We lose money every second those machines don’t work.”

“It may be unacceptable, but there isn’t a lot we can do except install all new servers and work all night to rebuild the systems. That’s if you want it back by late tomorrow.”

“Do it. Bring in extra help if you need to. How many transactions were lost?”

“Everything from today. We back up a little after noon and once again after the market closes. The attack hit just before the noon backup.”

Crigler was silent. This had to stop. “Very well, keep me informed on your progress. Just get it done as rapidly as possible.” He walked back to his office, shut the door, and started making calls on his cell phone informing the board of directors. By the time he was finished, he had the board’s support and was named acting CEO. Plymel was suspended and after an audit could face possible criminal charges.

His next call was to Adam Weber.

***

Upon his arrival, Weber was shown into Crigler’s office at three in the afternoon. By 4:30 p.m., Plymel’s assistant had been interviewed and escorted out of the building. At fifteen minutes before five, all associates, except those in the IT department, were called to a meeting in the main conference room.

Crigler stood at the head of the main conference table. The chairs around the table were occupied by senior vice presidents and their assistants. Everyone else stood against the walls. The room was eerily quiet. Crigler smiled slightly, his normally booming voice low and dripping with concern as he said, “I will make this as brief as possible. There are a lot of rumors floating around about the events of today. Mr. Plymel has been arrested on suspicion of insider trading. Our computers have been attacked by outside sources, and maintaining contact with our clients is a challenge. Suffice it to say, all of these events threaten the very existence of our company. However, the board of directors has been kept informed and made several management changes effective at five this afternoon.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Weber, who had been standing behind him. “Adam Weber will be the new head of security. I’ve known Mr. Weber for over twenty years. He was a US Marshal for fifteen of those years and now owns his own security company. He will be responsible for making sure we do not repeat the events of today going forward. The board also made several top management decisions. Abel Plymel will be taking a leave of absence while the accusations against him are addressed. In the meantime, I have been named acting CEO until Mr. Plymel’s issues are resolved. Finally, we expect the computer systems to be operational again in the morning. Please continue to use your personal cell phones to maintain contact with your clients until our phone system starts working again. Are there any questions?”

The question was answered by a deafening silence. Of the forty individuals sitting and standing in the room, no one spoke. Crigler looked around the room, nodded, and said, “Thank you for your support during this period. Be careful on your way home tonight. We will see everyone tomorrow.” With that statement, the meeting ended and everyone quietly ambled out of the room. Crigler returned to his office with Weber following.

As soon as he closed the door, Crigler said, “Find out what the FBI knows and what the charges are against Plymel. The lead agent is Sean Kruger. I didn’t recognize the woman. Also, see if you can find out who’s been feeding the information to the
New York Times
. My guess is, our missing computer expert. He’s probably responsible for the computers crashing today as well.”

Weber nodded.

Crigler frowned. “I doubt Plymel bothered to look at the man’s background before he was fired. Have you made any progress on finding him?”

Weber shrugged. “I just got back from checking the companies your intern found. They all turned out to be dead ends. I have one left, but the guy I need to see is out of town.”

“Where is this one located?”

“Missouri.”

Crigler was quiet for a few moments, then said, “Kruger lives in Missouri. I wonder…” Crigler turned and stared out the window in his office, his finger tapping his lips. Several moments passed. The only sound Weber could hear was the hiss from the air-conditioning vent. Crigler turned back around and said, “Go back to Missouri and dig around a little. It may just be a coincidence, but I doubt it. Kruger’s probably found the guy and is using him against us.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Works in the Criminal Investigation Division as a profiler. He’s not a team player and has a reputation for being a cowboy. He works alone most of the time and reports directly to an assistant director. He also has a tendency to bend the rules, sort of like me.”

Crigler smiled. “Do you know anything about his personal life?”

Weber shook his head. “No, all I know is his wife abandoned him and their son when the boy was about a year old. That was eighteen years ago. I’ve never heard anything about his getting married again. Like I said, he’s a loner.”

“See if you can find out what he knows. Stay in touch, I need to be updated on your progress daily.”

Weber nodded and left.

Crigler turned the chair back toward the window and stood up. After walking over to it, he clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the Manhattan skyline. Five minutes later, he smiled and returned to his desk.

Washington DC

Tall and slender, Mary Lawson’s heritage was Jamaican, French, and for attitude, a bit of Louisiana Cajun. After graduating in the top ten from Columbia University Law School, she had spent her entire career at the Justice Department. Now as the deputy director of the Office of Violence Against Women, she was at the pinnacle of her career.

There was only one man in her life, and they had both chosen career over family. Her career was time consuming, as was his. They saw each other when he was in town, which recently had been an infrequent event. While it wasn’t a perfect situation, she accepted it as their reality.

She had not heard from him for several weeks and it always brightened her day when they spoke. But the call from Joseph yesterday had been a surprise. While the information he had requested was easy to find, she was concerned about the purpose of his request.

She was sitting at her desk trying to decide what to tell Joseph, when her cell phone chirped. She smiled. “Two calls from you in as many days, I love it.”

Joseph laughed. “I need to call more often, don’t I?”

“Yes you do—but life gets in the way sometimes.”

He was silent for a moment. “I know. I hope we don’t regret we allowed it to do so.”

“We probably will…” She hesitated for a moment. “I made a few phone calls. Exactly, why are you interested in Weber?”

“Doing a little research for a friend. Why?”

“Before I tell you, have you ever heard of an individual named Abel Plymel?”

Joseph hesitated and said, “I’ve heard of him. Why?”

“He’s the CEO of a very large investment company called P&G Global located in New York City, very well connected politically, likes to hire retired Washington insiders. Plus he’s very rich. There was a story in the
New York Time
s this morning accusing Plymel of various federal crimes, including insider trading, fraud, and murder for hire. My source tells me Weber is currently working for P&G Global as a consultant.”

“Interesting.”

“Interesting? Really, Joseph, that’s all you can say? I’ve known you a long time, so don’t give me
interesting
. What’s going on?”

Immediately regretting not being truthful with her, he said, “I apologize. I’m more familiar with Plymel than I care to be, and I’m aware of his transgressions. But I didn’t know about Weber’s association with P&G Global. It explains a lot.”

“Remember, you called me. What does it explain, Joseph?”

Joseph was silent for a moment, trying to determine how much to tell her. “I can’t tell you everything, but I’ve learned that Weber is trying to find a friend of mine. My friend has a history with Plymel. Not a good history either. You just connected several dots in a very big puzzle.”

“Who’s the friend, Joseph?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

Mary was a quick study. “Your friend wouldn’t be the man who killed the security guard in front of Plymel’s building and then disappeared, would he?”

“That’s part of what I can’t tell you.”

“Harboring a fugitive is a federal crime, Joseph.”

“I’m aware of that, but there are always two sides to every story, Mary. I have evidence my friend was acting in self-defense. It’s complicated.”

“Indulge me.”

“Very well, pick me up at Reagan National at seven. We’ll have dinner and I’ll explain everything.”

***

Something was wrong. Kruger looked at his watch. It was past four in the afternoon and Plymel’s lawyers had not arrived at Manhattan Central Booking yet. He and Sharon were in a conference room waiting. Sharon was using the time to examine Plymel’s computer, while Kruger paced. What the hell was going on? Experience with high-profile criminals always included lawyers showing up before their clients were processed. Plymel’s hadn’t. His cell phone vibrated. “Where are you?”

Joseph said, “I’m flying to Washington DC to meet someone who might be able to help us. I should arrive by seven or so. What’s going on there?”

Kruger smiled and said, “Tell Mary hello for me. Plymel’s lawyers haven’t showed up yet. I think P&G may have cut him loose and he’s on his own. We have less than forty-eight hours to find what we need, or we have to release him. Sharon’s working on the laptop, but it’s going to take time to build a case against him.”

“Can you meet me in DC tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I’m in Chicago changing gates right now. Tonight I’m meeting Mary for dinner; she found some very interesting information, which may help us. Let me know where you’re staying and I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

The call ended and Kruger stopped pacing. He turned to Sharon, “I need to go to DC. Are you good by yourself here?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “Yes, Dad, I’ll be fine.”

Kruger chuckled. “I deserved that. Sorry. I meant to say: I need to go to DC, keep looking into the laptop, and call me if Plymel’s attorney shows up.”

“That I can do. I’ll email you a summary of my findings. Be careful, Sean. From what I’m finding in this computer, these people do not respect authority.”

He stared at her, trying to decide if she needed to accompany him or stay in New York. Finally, after several moments, he said, “I’ll be careful. You do the same.”

She nodded and went back to the laptop. As he left the room, he had a nagging feeling about the situation. As he walked down the hall, he stopped, briefly undecided about Sharon staying in New York. Shaking his head at the premonition, he left the building and took a cab to the airport.

***

Joseph sipped his coffee and smiled. “Dining with you is one of life’s great pleasures. Tell me again, why we don’t do it more often?” They had just finished eating at one of Joseph’s favorite places, a bistro near the Chevy Chase, Maryland–District of Columbia dividing line. He liked it because it reminded him of Paris. The place was small and intimate, the food was excellent, and they had one of the better wine lists in the area. It was also out of the mainstream DC circuit, and he felt comfortable no one would see him.

Mary Lawson said, “You know why Joseph.” She patted his hand and changed the subject. “I’ve done a little more inquiring into P&G Global.”

“Oh.” He smiled. “Enlighten me.”

“Did you know that Alton Crigler was now the CEO at P&G?”

Joseph’s eyebrows rose. “Since when?”

“Late this afternoon. It seems the board of directors are embarrassed about the allegations surrounding Plymel. They’re distancing the firm from him and cutting all ties.”

Joseph sipped his coffee. “Did you ever hear why Crigler left the attorney general’s office?”

“No, but the general consensus is he was passed over for the top spot too many times. He left for the private sector and more money.” Mary shrugged. “Good riddance. I didn’t care for the man. He had a mean streak, especially toward women.”

Joseph was silent. He stared into the now empty coffee cup. “He’s a devious man.”

It was now Mary’s turn to be silent. After a moment she said, “Do you know him?”

He shook his head. “Not personally, but Sean Kruger knows him and called him that several times. He was glad to see him leave.”

She nodded. “Most men in this town are either deceitful or stupid, present company excluded.”

Joseph smiled and raised his recently refilled cup of coffee to her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good, it was meant that way. What did Sean mean about being devious?”

“I’m not really sure. He wouldn’t go into detail, he just said, the man had a narcissistic personality and the country was safer without him in public service.”

Mary laughed. “I love Sean’s simple explanations. He said more in those few words than most politicians say all year.”

Joseph nodded. “He does have a way of cutting through the BS.” Pausing briefly, he continued, “I need you to do something for us, Mary.”

She smiled. “Time to pay for dinner. What would you have me do, my love?”

He smiled back. “We need everything you can find out about Abel Plymel before he started P&G Global.”

“What am I looking for?”

Joseph shrugged. “Not sure, Sean wouldn’t elaborate, but he said there’s a gap in the man’s background.”

She frowned. “A gap. Really? What kind of gap?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Don’t know.”

“How much time do I have?”

“As quickly as you can. Plymel can only be held forty-eight hours. Sean thinks events will start escalating rapidly tomorrow.”

She looked at him and smiled mischievously. “Do we have time to go back to my apartment? Or—do I need to start right now?”

“I believe we have time.”

***

“Thanks for waiting, Brittany.” Sharon Crawford smiled as she signed the transfer of evidence form the young female police officer had handed her.

“Not a problem. We’ve been shorthanded and I needed the overtime. Are we still on for dinner?”

Sharon smiled and nodded. “Definitely, I need a little downtime after today.”

Brittany Hardy was a seven-year veteran with the NYPD doing temporary desk duty in the evidence room after recovering from injuries sustained in a shoot-out with would-be bank robbers. Her partner had been killed, and she suffered a bullet in her left thigh. She stood and grimaced slightly.

Sharon said, “Does it still hurt?”

Brittany chuckled. “No, but when I sit for long periods, my leg protests. Doctors tell me the hitch may never go away. I can live with it. Better than the alternative.” Brittany was several inches shorter than Sharon Crawford and had barely met the height requirement for the department. She wore her shoulder-length brunette hair up while on duty. After she returned from locking Plymel’s laptop up in the evidence room, she said, “Where do you want to eat?”

“There’s a really nice bistro across from my hotel. You could be a dear and drive. That way I don’t have to take a cab.”

Brittany’s hazel eye’s sparkled and she said, “Let me change out of this uniform and we’ll get out of here.”

An hour later, they were sitting at the bistro’s bar, sipping wine as they waited for a table to open. Sharon said, “How long has it been since we worked together, Brittany?”

“Couple of years. Time flies, doesn’t it?”

Sharon nodded. “Yes, it does.”

“Are you still seeing Sean Kruger?”

Sharon was quiet for a few moments. “No.”

“That’s too bad. He’s cute.”

Smiling, Sharon nodded. “That he is. But, it’s hard to maintain a relationship when you’re twelve hundred miles apart. Are you seeing anybody right now?”

Brittany nodded. “Yeah, he’s an EMT with the fire department.”

“Is it serious?”

“Maybe.” She held up her hand and showed Sharon the engagement ring.

Sharon smiled brightly and leaned over to hug her friend. “Congratulations. Have you set a date?”

Brittany shook her head. “No, I’m still trying to decide if I’m going to stay with the department.” She patted her leg. “This got my attention and I would really like to have a more consistent schedule. We barely see each other some weeks. He’s on, I’m off, or the reverse.”

“Yeah, you sometimes have to wonder if it’s worth it.”

Brittany frowned and looked at her friend. “Regrets?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. I think Sean and I could have made it. At least I would like to have tried.” She stared ahead at all the liquor bottles behind the bar, not seeing any of them.

Brittany was quiet for awhile. “I’m sorry.”

Sharon smiled, then turned her attention back to her friend. “No worries. It just didn’t happen.” She paused. “I’m really happy for you, Brit.”

It was close to ten before Sharon stood in front of her hotel room door. She slid the keycard into the door lock, heard the click, and started opening the door.

A strong hand clamped around her mouth as the hotel room door was shoved in by her assailant’s other hand.