The pattern is there, boss,” Alex Z told Gage as they sat with Shakir around the worktable in the Oakland loft. “I can match up fifty cases involving companies that made offshore insurance payments to Pegasus and appeared in Meyer’s court, some before and some after the money came into its CEB account.”
Alex Z pointed at the list of company names. “Nearly every company was a defendant in some kind of civil or criminal action. Toxic spills, industrial accidents, insider trading.”
“And at least some of them, like TIMCO, used Pegasus as a tax-deductible slush fund to pay off witnesses.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“But it doesn’t get us anywhere unless it leads back to Brandon himself.”
“There are a hundred other companies that bought insurance that didn’t have cases in front of Meyer,” Alex Z said. “That seems to suggest this was solely an Anston-operated scam. Tax or otherwise.”
Gage thought back on his last meeting with Brandon and realized he was no longer sure what had been the judge’s purpose, now troubled, wondering whether it was a defense or a deflection.
“Why not just narrow our focus?” Alex Z said. “Go after Anston and try to reopen TIMCO and Moki’s cases? Maybe sic the IRS on the fake insurance scam?”
“Because everything that’s happened began with the wallet. It’s a link between Charlie and Brandon and led to Charlie’s death. I’m sure of it. And Socorro won’t be safe until we figure out why.”
Gage scanned the list of Pegasus star names to which Alex Z had added the wire transfer information from Joe Casey.
“Quinton referred to what Charlie was doing as investments,” Gage said. “And Brandon said he and Charlie had a sort of investment club.”
Shakir spoke up. “Sounds like they’re trying to push you in that direction-”
Gage smiled. “Us.” He pointed at Shakir. “You’re in this, too, kid.”
Shakir smiled back. “Thanks, boss.”
“And they’re succeeding in moving us that way,” Gage said, “either because they’re clean or because it’s a dead end.”
“It seems like a dead end,” Alex Z said. “None of the acronyms match the names of any of the companies that appeared in his court or were part of the insurance scam. And we haven’t been able to match them with the cases Anston handled.”
Gage leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and interlinking his fingers. He closed his eyes, thinking.
Finally, he opened them.
“Maybe they really did have a little investment club,” Gage said, “and they’re more than happy if we spend our time investigating it. There’s nothing illegal about him and Charlie investing together.” He glanced at Alex Z, and then pointed at the star list. “Did you compare those acronyms with Charlie’s retirement account statements?”
“No match, even after we tried decoding them different ways. They’re not stock symbols.”
Gage shook his head. “We’re not seeing something. It could be something as simple as Brandon not wanting it exposed in the press that he’s using offshore money to make investments. It would remind voters that Landon is a child of privilege and not a regular guy.”
“I don’t know,” Alex Z said. “We’ve had lots of wealthy presidential candidates who swaggered around like itinerant cowboys and golly-gee-whiz farmers and voters bought the act.”
“Maybe times have changed.” Gage rose and said to Alex Z, “Run GRID and the rest through the code-breaking program again. See if any meaningful words emerge unrelated to either cases or investments.”
Gage stepped toward the door, then turned back and smiled as he pointed down at Shakir’s forearm.
“I like the tattoo,” Gage said.
Shakir grinned and held it out. “Mighty Mouse.”