Special Agent's Seduction
A pleasant-looking, heavyset man in a cheap suit entered and approached them. He removed his hat, revealing a silvery crew cut and a tan line on his high forehead. His bright blue eyes snapped with energy. She recognized him immediately and cringed.
“Hey, Ben,” the police chief said, glancing in the direction of the office where the paramedics were hovering. “Everybody okay?”
“Everybody but him,” Michaels said, gesturing idly toward the body.
The chief looked at her, head cocked to one side. “Miss, I’m Chief Talbert with the Ellerton police.” He cleared his throat and squinted. “Don’t I know you?”
Dani shrugged and tried to look innocent.
The chief’s eyes narrowed farther. “I need to interview y’all separately. Ben, you want to scram? I know you got things you need to do, calls to make and so forth, and we can talk later.”
“I do at that.” Turning to her, he said, “I’ll see you later. I’d like to speak with you again before you go.”
Dani nodded. His low-timbre voice had a newscaster quality to it, softened by a distinct Virginia accent. Nice, she thought. Exceptionally nice, when he wasn’t cussing or threatening. That tone matched his polished appearance.
Amazing, how unruffled he looked now. The only evidence of the altercation were his skinned knuckles and minute spatters of blood on his shirt. The man obviously had a tough side, one he masked well. Dani consciously made note of the fact that it was a really good-looking mask. No wrinkles, not even any laugh lines. Smooth. Almost mannequin smooth. She wondered if he was vain enough to be into Botox.
Her budding fascination must have shown as her gaze followed him, because the chief cleared his throat yet again, this time to get her attention.
Dani ignored him for another few seconds as she watched Michaels head for the other unoccupied office. She liked the way he moved, how he led with his left, leaned forward and swung one arm in a John Wayne kind of stride. But the Duke on his best day had never looked that good. She allowed herself a silent little whew before she looked away.
“Okay, here you go.” She reached into her pocket, fished out her badge folder and handed it over.
The chief took it and examined it closely. “Uh-huh. So you’re a special agent, division of Homeland Security.” His smile looked wary. “Wait a minute. Weren’t you with the FBI?” She saw recognition dawn. “I remember you now. Whatcha doing here in Ellerton this time, Ms. Sweet?”
“On vacation.” Again, she thought, but didn’t add the word. “Visiting my sister, Carol Whitman.”
Surprisingly, his smile turned friendly. “She and Bud had the baby yet?”
“A boy.” Dani went on to explain why she was at the bank and gave him the details of what had happened. Then, just to be polite, she added, “Can I be of help other than as a witness? If I can assist in the investigation in any way…”
He smirked a little, obviously recalling the last time their paths had crossed and how she had stolen his thunder. “No thanks, I think we can handle this one. So you’re with the COMPASS outfit now? We got some directives down a couple months ago about cooperation and interaction and such. Part of that special team, Sextant, aren’t you? Counterterrorism?”
“Yes, we’re an adjunct to Sextant.” She smiled. “Look, Chief, could you maybe keep my name out of things? I’d consider it a big favor. We like to keep a low profile.”
He nodded. “Sure thing. Okay, that about does it. Thanks.”
Dani followed him over to the door of the office where the EMTs were bagging the body.
“Well, Ben took care of him.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Pretty cut-and-dried, I guess. Bank job gone bad. I need to go question Ben and the others. Maybe you should stick around until I’m finished, in case I come up with any more questions. You mind?”
“Glad to,” she replied, in no great hurry to face her disapproving sister with the news of her latest adventure.
A little while later, Ben Michaels returned to the lobby. He managed a more pleasant expression than any he had shown before. She registered again how perfect he looked. Short dark hair expertly cut. Nice, smoothly arched brows. Steely gray eyes rimmed with long black lashes. Lips that really made her pause to stare. Nose every plastic surgeon must aim to duplicate. Cheekbones that hinted at Native American genes beneath his pale skin. Except for a few hairline scars, nothing marred the mask. How benign he looked now. Great camouflage. She almost said so out loud.
“I shouldn’t have popped off at you the way I did,” he said. Perfect Southern gent routine, smooth as good cane syrup. One would never guess he had a pop-off in him.
“Not a problem,” she said, sort of aping his accent, simply because she liked it. Her natural Midwestern clip seemed a little blunt by comparison. “Guess I did the same thing. We were both pretty wound up.”
He either didn’t notice or ignored her Scarlett O’Hara impression as he nodded and inhaled deeply, releasing it slowly before speaking again. “Could I talk with you in private about what happened?”
Well, that raised her brows. “What for?”
“You’re Homeland Security and I have a possible threat to discuss.”
“Does it have to do with the robbery?”
He nodded. Dani decided to humor him. He had been through a lot this morning. He would naturally blow this all out of proportion—she had seen it many times. A thief, obviously of foreign extraction, had come in to rob the bank, to direct the funds out of the U.S. Had to be an international plot, right? Small towns were a refuge for foreign professionals. Her sister’s obstetrician was from India. All the convenience stores were run by recent immigrants, as were many of the mom-and-pop motels. This guy looked like a well-to-do businessman in his expensive top-coat and tasteful tie. Some immigrants were office workers, some blue collar, and, yes, some were thieves. But not all of them were linked to international terrorism.
Amid these doubting thoughts she became very aware of Ben Michaels’s hand on her elbow, guiding her to one of the empty offices even before she had noticed. At least he wasn’t causing any premonitions of danger. She smiled at the thought.
“Okay, Mr. Michaels, explain this potential threat,” she said in her most authoritative tone.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured for her to sit in one of the wing-backed chairs that flanked the desk. Then he closed the door and sat across from her in the matching chair. Through the plate glass that separated the space from the lobby, Dani could see the beehive of activity as the locals went about their investigation.
She waited for him to begin. He searched her face, assessed it, as if trying to determine something about her.
She studied his, too, along with his body language and general demeanor, all of which signified his great concern, but also evident was his confidence to deal with whatever may trouble him. He certainly had done all right so far today, no question about that.
He seemed to reach a decision. “We might have a terrorist funding situation going on here that your people should investigate. At least you can pass it on to the agency that handles such things to see if I could be right.”
“Even foreign nationals commit regular crimes, Mr. Michaels. They’re not all sleeper agents committed to a holy war. And for all we know right now, this guy’s a U.S. citizen, born and bred. Bank robberies are not in my bailiwick.”
He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees and his penetrating gray gaze holding hers. “I realize that, Ms. Sweet, but this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill robbery,” he said, stating the obvious. “I was forced to dump three million from legitimate accounts here into the bank in the Caymans. It was supposed to appear as if I had done it. Embezzlement.”
“I got that,” she said wryly, inclining her head in agreement. “Are you saying this type of robbery has never happened before in the annals of bank heists?”
“Cute. What I’m saying is that these funds may have been taken from the accounts of individuals who share a common cause. Individuals who might not mind their accounts being victimized.”
“Say it straight-out if you don’t mind. What’s the deal?”
“I said it already. Could be terrorist financing.”
Dani cocked her head and stared at him. “What are the chances of that? A terrorist stumbles in here and inadvertently takes an intel agent hostage?”
He shrugged again. “That’s the reason I asked why you were here.”
“Okay, exactly what do you think is going on? Paint me a scenario.”
“Say he left no witnesses. Then he goes to the back of the counter to the drawers and takes all the cash he can carry and gets away. This would have been considered a straight robbery. Later when the auditors come in, they discover the transfers I’ve made to this offshore account. I probably would have been blamed for it.” His gaze was keen, sharp. “Didn’t it seem to you as if he intended for me to take the heat? You remember, when I mentioned the red flags?”
Dani didn’t quite buy it. “The time would have been recorded as happening during the robbery,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but this audit would happen weeks later. The money trail would end at a Cayman bank and they would never recover the funds.”
“The cameras would show you performing the transaction under duress.”
He glanced out at the cameras. “We haven’t gone digital yet. Easy to remove the evidence with no one alive to stop him. Granted, it doesn’t seem like it was a great plan on his part, but he and the money would have disappeared before anyone sorted it out. And if I were missing, I would definitely be suspected of collusion.”
“I think your supposition is a stretch, Mr. Michaels,” she said, although she privately wondered…Michaels was no alarmist. He seemed cool and collected and had obviously given this a lot of thought.
“I’m not through yet,” he stated, his tone flat and unequivocal. “You need to listen to me and have this checked out.” He gestured emphatically with his hands as he spoke.
He continued to lean toward her, his palms flared as his elbows rested on his knees. “The money is insured, so the clients wouldn’t have suffered any loss.”
“I’m listening,” she told him. “Please go on.”
He met her gaze, sincerely trying to convince her of his theory. “Today’s crime could have played out the way I suggest if we hadn’t stopped it. Your basic robbery, then later on, an unrelated incident of embezzlement is discovered. The apparent perpetrator of that, namely me, already dead. Or maybe he would have forced me to go with him, only to kill me later.”
Dani leaned back in her chair. “Why your bank?”
“Maybe we have all the right customers. The upshot is that I think the funds I was forced to transfer could have already been earmarked to finance terrorists.”
“Three million would only be a drop in the bucket to those groups. Maybe our guy was merely a thief who didn’t realize the Cayman banks are not a good place to hide funds anymore.”
“Oh, I think he knew he couldn’t hide it there. He only needed to get it out of the States first.” Michaels abandoned his ingratiating pose, sat back and crossed his arms. “You won’t find the money there anymore,” he told her with absolute authority.
“Why are you so certain of that, Mr. Michaels? Have you already moved it? Did I happen along at the wrong time and mess up a little plan to cover up a three mil heist with a simple bag job?”
Chapter 3
Michaels didn’t bat an eye at her accusation. “I am trying to help here. If the robber and I were in cahoots, all he had to do was lock you in the safe, too. Or kill you outright.”
In cahoots? Dani stifled a smile and nodded, tongue in cheek. She didn’t really suspect Michaels of involvement and he knew it. “I still think it’s quite a stretch, bank robbery to terrorism. Are you deducing all this from the robber’s physical characteristics?” She had to admit, though, that the thought had crossed her mind when she first felt the gun and heard the accent. But that was a panic response, not good inductive policework.
“Not entirely.”
“Okay, let’s explore the possibility.” She encouraged him to go on. His certainty was a little contagious. “Explain why else you would think he was a terrorist collecting funds from sympathizers?” she asked.
“While you were talking to the chief, I checked the numbers of the source accounts against the surnames of the holders. Those names reflect that this could be an effort by individuals with possible familial ties to the Middle East to amass a tidy sum, jump it from country to country and land the funds where they could easily be accessed as needed.”
“All of the account holders? There must have been thirty accounts you drew from.”
“In total, there were only nine individuals and companies. All have multiple accounts with us and all of those accounts were tapped. All except one have ties to the Middle East, or at least surnames that indicate they might. One of the smaller accounts has a name very similar to an organization on the terrorist watch list,” he said.
Dani dropped any pretense of disagreement. He had made his case, or at least enough of one to warrant a full investigation. “I’ll notify the agency. They’ll institute a thorough investigation. You can’t recover the funds? Have you tried?”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course I tried. Part of it was withdrawn within seconds of the transfer, and most of it was transferred again. It stands to reason there would be an accomplice waiting at the other bank to move on it quickly. It was split. Looks like the man at the other end took his cut.” He paused. “But I can follow the money they moved.”
“You can do that?” she asked. “How?”
“Well, shift funds around all you want, but it always leaves a trail. As you probably know, there’s really no such thing as an anonymous account anymore. I have connections that could furnish names and leads to follow. It’s a place to start.”
Dani recognized competence when she saw it. “My people can call on the Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty the offshore banks signed with the UK and the U.S.”
For the first time, he smiled. “That would help. As you pointed out, a few million’s not much in the grand scheme of things. But if you multiply it by a number of small banks like this one, terrorists could secure an absolute fortune before anyone recognized what they were doing.” He shrugged. “Or I could be wrong. This could be a setup to ruin me and my bank.”
“You have enemies who would do that?” she asked, almost smiling at the thought. He appeared so benign, so likable. “Look, no one believes you were involved in this. Insurance will take care of the losses. Why not let it go at that?”
“You’re kidding, right? Let it go?”
“You seem to be taking it very personally,” she said, wondering how far he’d work this theory of his.
He planted a fist in his palm and bared his teeth in a grimace of frustration. “Of course I do. This bank is my responsibility and my reputation was threatened.”
After a pause, she said, “Okay, let’s word this for my boss so I can run it by him and I’ll make a call.” She poised her pen over the little notebook she always carried in her pocket. Michaels cleared his throat and began. He dictated clear, concise sentences, like Dani had read in many official government incident reports. Dani noted the way his dark gray eyes narrowed as he drew to a close. “If those funds are meant to support terrorists, we need to make sure that doesn’t happen. I mean to make certain it doesn’t.”
His last sentence brought back some doubt to her. Was he a glory seeker trying to get his name in the papers by making up some fictitious plot? All the agencies got scads of those. So many they were now having to prosecute the “witnesses” when fraudulent intent was clear. False claims tied up too many people in useless investigations and took time away from real cases.
Or did Michaels really have something? It was never wise to consider any citizen’s suspicions frivolous, no matter how outrageous they sounded. And, unfortunately, his sounded feasible.
“What if this was just a little more sophisticated than your everyday bank job?” she suggested. “Our boy probably knew all the tricks about tracing stolen money when a thief actually carries it out in a sack, like the dye, the tracking devices, marked bills and so forth. Crooks do watch a lot of television.”
He acknowledged with a wry smile. “Add to that the fact that few banks actually keep three million in cash lying around. And even if we did, extremely large bills are too hard to spend without raising questions. And a cache of small ones in that amount would be too damned heavy for one thief to carry.”
He dropped the smile and looked away. “Besides, I haven’t mentioned the clincher, the thing that convinced me this was no regular heist. Make sure this is in your notes.”
Dani turned the page in her notepad and clicked her pen.
Michaels met her gaze with one of pure fire. “He muttered something immediately after the transfer, just before you acted. Did you hear it?”
“Sounded like a curse,” she replied. “To tell you the truth, I was too busy concentrating on what I was doing.”
“It was a phrase in Arabic,” Michaels told her. “He said Death to America. Then the rat bastard smiled.”
Dani’s eyes widened and she sat silently for a moment. “You speak Arabic, Mr. Michaels?” Now this seemed a lot less far-fetched than it had before.
He shrugged. “That particular phrase is one I heard enough times to engrave it on my brain.”
She leaned forward. “And just what did you do in the service?”
If he was surprised that she had guessed he was former military, he didn’t flinch. His beautifully sculpted lips tightened into a line before he relaxed them. He promptly reverted to the stillness that signified his stolid banker image before he replied. “I picked up phrases like that one.”
“Ah. Okay,” she said, clicking her pen rhythmically, watching his eyes. “Did you mention your theory to the chief?”
“No, it’s not within local scope. That’s why I wanted to speak to you about it.”
She nodded her approval. “Could you step out and give me a few minutes to make a call?”
He stood, then paused before leaving the room. “Just so you know, I plan to follow through on this. Nobody…I mean, nobody, rips off my bank and gets away with it. Especially not for the purpose of bankrolling the bin Ladens of the world. I can track the money.” He shook a finger at her. “You tell your people that. They can work with me or around me, I don’t really care—but there’s no way I’ll be camping out behind some desk while someone else tries to straighten this out.”
Whoa. The man didn’t come off like a mild-mannered banker when he got his dander up. But Dani knew what her boss would say to having a civilian muddying up the waters of an international financial investigation. “We have experts who follow up on things like this, Mr. Michaels.”
“And by the time they decide who and how many to send, get the travel approved, orders cut, run everything through their computers and bureaucrats, and settle on what to do first, the money will be spent. And if I’m right, people will die.”
The fire in his eyes told her he’d had some experience with that. She could also see that her words would have little effect on his actions. Plus, he was right about the systemic delays. That was one reason her own team had been formed.
Whoever investigated this would certainly need the cooperation of a banking expert, and Ben Michaels did have all the particulars of the transaction and perhaps knew how to trace it, if that were possible. She would at least call the boss to see what he thought about Michaels, his suspicions and his plans to pursue this. Maybe the investigating operatives could use him.
“How are you with team work?” she asked, suspecting that he might have a lone wolf personality.
“Depends on the team,” he replied. “But I can work alone.” He paused, again with that narrow-eyed glare that hinted at hidden hard edges and left Dani assured of his resolve. “And I will if need be.”
Dani took out her cell phone and raised her chin to indicate he should leave her to make her phone call in private.
“Ben Michaels, you are one lucky son of a gun,” Mike Talbert said with a roll of his eyes. “Guess you been living right lately.”
“Has Mary Ruth calmed down yet?” Ben asked, changing the subject. He was concerned about the young, newly hired teller who had thrown up all over the inside of the vault and fainted. Her every waking moment since this whole thing started, she had spent crying. She looked about the same age as Agent Sweet. He couldn’t help comparing the two women and wondered what had forged Sweet’s ironclad nerves.
“Aw, Mary Ruth’ll be okay,” Mike said. “Probably need some counseling, though. Doc gave her a little something to take the edge off and I sent for her daddy to come get her.”
“And George?”
“He’s fine. Gave us the details on what happened right up until the vault clicked shut on him.” Mike smiled. “George is good with details. Prob’ly already writing a book about it.”
Ben tried to smile back.
“Where’s our little agent?” Mike asked, then peeked around Ben’s shoulder. “Oh, there she is. This COMPASS team she’s on? I’ve heard of it through channels. Started out as one of those secret, specialized forces called Sextant, which has branched out to include this new one.”
“Not so secret now?” Ben asked.
“Publicly, they are, but in law-enforcement circles they’re growing their legend. See, they took the best of the best, so I’ve heard, from the Bureau, CIA, NSA, ATF and the like. Supposed to stimulate cooperation between the agencies. Must be working because that first bunch has made quite an impact, heading terrorists off at the pass. COMPASS was involved in some real dicey deals with stolen missiles, bombs and such.”
He nodded toward the office and smiled. “Hard to believe Miss Sweet’s up to things like that, the way she looks and all. Kinda dainty.”
Ben clicked his tongue. “You didn’t see her disarm the robber. She’s gutsy. And quick.”
“Like a bunny,” Mike said, laughing. “Yeah, she whipped our asses on a car theft thing here a couple of years ago. Made us look like a buncha yokels. It was all over before we even knew what was going on…. I ought to be mad at her for that, but I never been one to hold a grudge. Besides, she’s a real looker.”
A real looker. “And you’re a real master of understatement,” Ben said with a laugh. Agent Sweet was a natural beauty with a perfect, tawny complexion, clear amber eyes and rich dark hair so shiny it reflected her red sweater. She filled that out magnificently, even though he doubted she weighed much over a hundred and ten pounds. A five-five bundle of energy with a good head on her shoulders. The view from the rear in those gray slacks impressed him, too, as she turned her back on them, still talking on the phone.
Too bad she’d turned, though, because those mobile lips of hers were her best feature, Ben decided. God, they were something.
“She might be good at what she does, but you’re the one who was really on the ball today, man.” He slapped Ben on the shoulder. “You sure you’re okay? Still look a little tense.”
“I’m fine and I’d appreciate it if you’d downplay my part in this,” Ben replied, his gaze still focused on Agent Sweet.
“Oh, ’cause of your mama, right?”
“Right.” He watched Agent Sweet pace behind the glass window of the office. She gestured emphatically with one hand as she talked into the phone.
He wondered if he would see her again after today. He hoped not, he reminded himself firmly. There was already one woman in his life he had been jumping through hoops to keep happy for the last year and a half.
All that aside, nothing prevented him from enjoying Agent Sweet aesthetically. She was a work of art, that one. Through the window her dark golden eyes met his and locked like lasers. Then with a curt motion of her hand, she beckoned him to join her.