The Heir Hunter (31 page)

“How are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know how, okay?” he pleaded. “Please, let’s deal with this one crisis at a time.”

They remained silent for ten seconds before Alex spoke again.

“So what’s this about a Swiss account?”

Nick told her about the bank certificate Jessica had found. Alex slowly paced around him, her chin in her hand.

“There’s some sort of a Geneva connection here, Nick. Listen to this . . .” She told him about the day’s research and the strange phone call she had gotten from the Swiss banker.

“‘Tell Taylor his plan will fail,’” Nick repeated thoughtfully. “What was the rest of it again?”

“‘I’ve taken precautions. The end is coming soon for him.’”

“This banker knows who Taylor is,” he said, quick with his conclusion.

“Take his words on face value, Nick. We can’t be sure what he knows.”

“Well, he obviously knows
something.
We can safely conclude one thing: from what you told me of his tone, there’s little doubt of his feelings toward Taylor. He doesn’t like him. That’s good—I don’t either. We’re on the same page in that regard.” He thought for a moment before looking up at her. “I want to have a chat with this Mr. Chagnon.”

“Easier said than done,” she replied. “I must have called him back four or five times. They told me he was permanently unavailable and then hung up on me.”

Nick glanced at his watch. “In another hour I’ll be able to call Geneva. If we can think of the proper approach, we may be able to talk to this guy. If I can just get him on the
damn line, I think I can convince him that I want Taylor too.”

“What if we
can’t
get him on the line?”

“Then I may be hopping on another plane. Jesus Christ, this is crazy.” He let out a long breath. “Let’s get out there and talk things over with the heir. She’s part of this.”

He stepped to the door but paused in midstride when he caught Alex’s look. He could see something in her deep brown eyes he had never seen before.

“What is it?”

She sat down on the sleeping bag in the corner. He lowered himself down next to her, so close their shoulders rubbed.

“What’s going to happen to us, Nick?”

Nick put his arm around her. He had been so busy running around, he hadn’t even had time to dwell on their long-term prospects. His partner clearly had found the time. It was startling to see. Alex had always been the gutsiest woman he had ever known, but he could now see real fear in those wide eyes. She needed something other than hopeful words. He pulled her to him. She hugged him back and put her face on his shoulder.

“We’ll make it, girl. If we just rely on each other and plan this right, I think we can find our way out. But we’ve got to do it quick.”

Like an electric jolt, the call came suddenly in the dark. Arthur Gordon rolled away from his wife of thirty-five years and reached blindly for the phone. Either his youngest daughter was having more marital problems or a break had come in the Merchant investigation. His deputy’s voice indicated it was the latter.

“Merchant was in Iowa with one of the heirs.”

“How do we know?” Gordon asked, propping himself up on a creaky elbow.

“Des Moines called us. There was an incident at Jessica
Von Rohr’s home yesterday. Two gunmen showed up and shot the place up.”

“Gunmen? Wait—how do we know Merchant was there?”

“Neighbor says she saw a man matching Merchant’s description show at Von Rohr’s door maybe an hour or so before the shooting started.”

“Any bodies?”

“Nothing. We’ve assigned two agents to watch the house, but the odds of her coming back are slim.”

“Do we have full airport coverage in New York and San Francisco?”

“Full coverage. And partial coverage in half a dozen others.”

Gordon nodded as his wife rolled over and muttered something next to him. He lowered his voice. “You think Von Rohr’s with Merchant now?”

“I think so, yes. He lost the first heir so he’s trying to make his payday with the sister. Probably wants to put a few million in his pocket before he leaves the country.”

Gordon nodded as he stared into the darkness of his bedroom. “Send new teletypes. If they’re traveling together, it’s only going to make it easier for us. Did you find out when that court hearing is scheduled?”

“Wednesday afternoon. Are you sure we can’t just drain these accounts?”

“Not without involving people in New York State. There’s a better way to stop this hearing. Did you get that information I wanted on the attorney? What was his name again?”

“It’s in my file. Apparently they’ve been together since Merchant and Associates started up. Known each other since childhood.”

“That’s good. We’ll give him special attention starting tomorrow. By the time we’re through with him, he won’t be caught within ten miles of that courthouse.”

“Merchant will just hire another one,” said Arminger,
disgusted. “There are a million other attorneys who’ll jump on this opportunity.”

“The point is, it could take him time to hire a new one. He’ll have to reschedule the hearing while he makes new arrangements. It’s another errand he’ll have to run, another person he’ll have to call, and that’s exactly what we want. The longer he’s in the States, the more likely it is he’ll leave a trail. I want you to call San Francisco immediately and get started on that.”

“I’ll call them right now.”

“Make sure they lean on this attorney hard,” Gordon insisted. “He may be our key.”

Alex and Jessica were at the kitchen table under a dim plastic hanging lamp. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning. Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down with them.

“Everything’s pointing to Geneva,” he said. “We have Jessica’s bank account to look into and Ludwig Holtzmann’s friend Otto to visit. We also have a banker to talk to who may know quite a lot.”

“This banker,” said Jessica, her eyes narrowed in thought. “How did you get his name?”

Nick would have preferred it if she hadn’t asked. Their source had been the bank documents taken from Jacobs’s home.

“We discovered in our earlier research that Jacobs had bank accounts in Geneva. Alex made some phone calls and eventually got hold of this man.”

Jessica leaned forward on her elbows, thinking too hard for Nick’s liking. He turned to his partner before she could ask any more questions.

“What do you think, Alex? Feedback?”

Alex considered it for a moment. “I think we have to go. We have three solid leads to pursue in Geneva and very little to go on in the States, although I do have several
things I need to see through here. I say you two go to Switzerland, and I stick around to finish my research in the States.”

This made sense to Nick. It was safer if he and Alex didn’t travel together anyway.

“What do you think?” he asked Jessica.

She exhaled and clasped her hands together on the table. “I don’t know if I’m as concerned with uncovering mysteries as you two are. I just don’t want to end up like my brother. Geneva sounds . . . safe, I guess.” She brought her hands to her forehead and studied the surface of the table. “I’m sorry, but this is all new ground for me. You two are the professionals here.”

“We aren’t professionals when it comes to something like this,” said Alex evenly.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, because all the amateurs seem to be getting killed,” Jessica replied with a tight smile.

“It’s decided then,” Nick said quickly, nodding at Alex. “We take this to Switzerland; you continue whatever investigation you can here.”

Alex got to her feet and left the kitchen. Nick gave Jessica an uneasy look and cracked a couple of knuckles. An icy silence was better than the opposite. He had zero desire to step between the two of them. Sounded dangerous.

Jessica suddenly stood and reached for her jacket. “I’m going for a walk.”

“You what?” said Nick. “A walk? Wait a second—”

“Maybe I’ll jog. I haven’t decided yet. I noticed an all-night drugstore down the street. If I’m holing up in here all night, I’ll need some things.”

“Fine. I can give you a ride.”

“She wants to walk, Nick,” said Alex from the living room. “Let her walk.”

Jessica was already at the door. She gave Nick a smartass wink and closed the door before he could say anything
more. He approached the blinds and watched her until she was out of sight.

“‘I can give you a ride,’” mimicked Alex from the living room.

Nick turned to look at her. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s yours?” she replied, glaring at him. “You’re taking this knight-in-shining-armor routine a little far, don’t you think?”

“What are you talking about? Alex, we’re
obligated
to this woman. I don’t give a rat’s ass if she’s a client or not. We came into her life and we told her about this and now we owe her. Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

“You flew all the way out to Iowa to warn her, Nick. Our obligations to her should end right there.”

“She can help us. She has the Swiss account, remember?” He slowly shook his head at her. “All the crap I’m dealing with, and you gotta pull this little . . . jealousy act.”

She stepped into the kitchen and got right in his face. “Jealousy? Your ego cannot be so out of whack that you actually believe that. Are you getting off on having both of us under your thumb?”

Nick turned from her and took a seat. He purposely waited ten seconds, counting them down silently, before speaking.

“We’re both tired, Alex. Stressed out, scared, saying things we don’t mean. The only two things I’m concerned with right now are you and me. You and me. Can we just agree on doing whatever it’ll take to come out of this alive?”

The anger faded from her face. She leaned against the kitchen counter and frowned at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m acting really stupid.”

“I’m sorry too. I know you’re not jealous.”

She smiled self-consciously at him. He smiled back, and it was as good as forgotten.

“Hey,” Alex said, entering the bedroom, “I want to
show you something.” She returned with the tiny tape recorder. “Remember this?” She pressed Play.

“. . . Yeah, Jacobs—it’s Demello . . . I need you to gimme a call today . . . it’s important. . ..”

“I remember,” said Nick. “What about it?”

She reached down and took the phone book. She flipped through the pages, then placed her finger on a line for him. He read it aloud.

“‘Demello and Blount, Private Investigators.’” He looked up at her quickly. “That’s our boys.”

“It’s got to be,” agreed Alex. “I called the licensing board and verified it. James Demello—licensed PI in the state of New York. But you know what I find strange? Look at their address. Tell me why an elderly millionaire would go all the way down to an ugly part of East Harlem to hire a PI. There’s plenty in Albany he could’ve called.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to hire anyone too close by.”

Alex shrugged. “I called their office about ten times. No answer. Not even a machine. I’m checking it out tomorrow.”

“Just be careful,” he warned. “How bad is it down there?”

“No worse than my old neighborhood.”

“Bring your gun. I’m going to book our flight. You have a place in Albany for passports, right?”

“Yes, but they’re not cheap.”

“Just as long as they’re quick. Once we’re gone, you’re running the show here in the States, Alex. I know you’ll come up with something good.”

“I’m glad one of us is sure.”

Nick turned away, then paused. “I just remembered something else I need you to do here. Can you run a credit transaction report for Michael Dean Collier every, say, two hours?”

“That often?”

“Yes. Every two hours, on the hour.”

Her eyes went wide with realization. “They’re checking credit reports?”

“I know they’re checking Nick Merchant and Alex Moreno. We need to make sure they’re not checking Mr. Collier and Ms. Ramos. You need to stay on that two-hour timetable, okay?”

“If you think it’s important.”

“Important enough to save our lives.”

They stared at each other, silently considering the impact of those words. Up until Jacobs, it had been nothing but fun and games. Things were now so horrible it barely seemed real.

Nick didn’t expect Alex’s next move. In three quick steps, she was in front of him, hugging him around the waist. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, stroking her hair. Standing there in the dim light, he doubted if he was any less frightened than she was.

S
AN FRANCISCO’S FINEST
went to work early Sunday morning. In the Richmond and Sunset districts, they spread the word at cafés, supermarkets, and churches. In the Mission District, the cops on sidewalk beat handed out and posted composites. In the fugitive’s former home in the Marina, officers walked among the morning throngs on Chestnut and Union streets passing out fliers and speaking with pedestrians. The story making its way through precinct locker rooms was that the commissioner was following instructions from FBI Director Arthur Gordon himself.

Doug had noticed the fliers when he’d left for the office at 6
A.M.
It was frightening how quickly it was all unraveling. He could barely believe it. His best friend—wanted for attempted murder! He was glad Bill Merchant wasn’t around to see this.

He settled into his office and tried in vain to focus. He had a busy day in front of him, each minute tightly allocated. His secretary, Darlene, had grudgingly agreed to put in a half day to help him play catch-up, and he hoped the two of them could make a dent in the small mountain of papers now teetering on his desk. He clicked on the computer and reached for his coffee mug. He needed to write up the Branson living trust from 8:00 to 11:00. Prepare the petition for the Hanson heirs from 11:00 to
12:00. Meet with an heir and her attorney in Martinez at 1:00. Shoot back to Oakland at 2:30 to meet with the administrator of the Magruder estate. Fight his way back over the bridge to San Francisco and tear downtown for an early dinner with Kimberly for her thirtieth-birthday celebration, although she was treating it more like a wake. Nothing a few rum and Cokes wouldn’t fix, at least for one night.