"Who are the guys in the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"Don't know. I've been there ten months and never seen them. I don't know where they park or how they get in and out. They're invisible. I figure the partners and the boys in the bas.e.m.e.nt do the dirty work."

"What kind of equipment is down there?"

"Two copiers, four shredders, high-speed printers and all those computers. State of the art."

Tarrance walked to the window, obviously deep in thought. "That makes sense. Makes a lot of sense. I've always wondered how the firm, with all those secretaries and clerks and paralegals, could maintain such secrecy about Morolto."

"It's easy. The secretaries and clerks and paralegals know nothing about it. They're kept busy with the real clients. The partners and senior a.s.sociates sit in their big offices and dream up exotic ways to launder money, and the bas.e.m.e.nt crew does the grunt work. It's a great setup."

"So there are plenty of legitimate clients?"

"Hundreds. They're talented lawyers with an amazing clientele. It's a great cover."

"And you're telling me, McDeere, that you've got the doc.u.ments now to support indictments and search warrants? You've got them-they're in your possession?"

"That's what I said."

"In this country?"

"Yes, Tarrance, the doc.u.ments are in this country. Very close to here, actually."

Tarrance was fidgety now. He rocked from one foot to the other and cracked his knuckles. He was breathing quickly. "What else can you get out of Front Street?"

"Nothing. It's too dangerous. They've changed the locks, and that sort of worries me. I mean, why would they change the locks on the third and fourth floors and not on the first and second? I made some copies on the fourth floor two weeks ago, and I don't think it was a good idea. I'm getting bad vibes. No more records from Front Street."

"What about the girl?"

"She no longer has access."

Tarrance chewed his fingernails, rocking back and forth. Still staring at the window. "I want the records, McDeere, and I want them real soon. Like tomorrow."

"When does Ray get his walking papers?"

"Today's Monday. I think it's set up for tomorrow night. You wouldn't believe the cussing I've taken from Voyles. He's had to pull every string in the book. You think I'm kidding? He called in both senators from Tennessee, and they personally flew to Nashville to visit the governor. Oh, I've been cussed, McDeere. All because of your brother."

"He appreciates it."

"What's he gonna do when he gets out?"

"I'll take care of that. You just get him out."

"No guarantees. If he gets hurt, it ain't our fault."

Mitch stood and looked at his watch. "Gotta run. I'm sure someone's out there waiting for me."

"When do we meet again?"

"She'll call. Just do as she says."

"Oh, come on, Mitch! Not that routine again. She can talk to me on my phone. I swear! We keep our lines clean. Please, not that again."

"What's your mother's name, Tarrance?"

"What? Doris."

"Doris?"

"Yeah, Doris."

"Small world. We can't use Doris. Whom did you take to your senior prom?"

"Uh, I don't think I went."

"I'm not surprised. Who was your first date, if you had one?"

"Mary Alice Brenner. She was hot too. She wanted me."

"I'm sure. My girl's name is Mary Alice. The next time Mary Alice calls, you do exactly as she says, okay?"

"I can't wait."

"Do me a favor, Tarrance. I think Tolar's faking, and I've got a weird feeling his fake heart attack is somehow related to me. Get your boys to snoop around here and check out his alleged heart attack."

"Sure. We have little else to do."

33.

Tuesday morning the office buzzed with concern for Avery Tolar. He was doing fine. Running tests. No permanent damage. Overworked. Stressed out. Capps did it. Divorce did it. Leave of absence.

Nina brought a stack of letters to be signed. "Mr. Lambert would like to see you, if you're not too busy. He just called."

"Fine. I'm supposed to meet Frank Mulholland at ten. Do you know that?"

"Of course I know that. I'm the secretary. I know everything. Your office or his?"

Mitch looked at his appointment book and pretended to search. Mulholland's office. In the Cotton Exchange Building.

"His," he said with a frown.

"You met there last time, didn't you? Didn't they teach you about turf in law school? Never, I repeat, never meet two times in a row on the adversary's turf. It's unprofessional. It's uncool. Shows weakness."

"How can you ever forgive me?"

"Wait till I tell the other girls. They all think you're so cute and macho. When I tell them you're a wimp, they'll be shocked."

"They need to be shocked, with a cattle prod."

"How's Abby's mother?"

"Much better. I'm going up this weekend."

She picked up two files. "Lambert's waiting."

Oliver Lambert pointed at the stiff sofa and offered coffee. He sat perfectly erect in a wing chair and held his cup like a British aristocrat. "I'm worried about Avery," he said.

"I saw him last night," Mitch said. "Doctor's forcing a two-month retirement."

"Yes, that's why you're here. I want you to work with Victor Milligan for the next two months. He'll get most of Avery's files, so it's familiar territory."

"That's fine. Victor and I are good friends."

"You'll learn a lot from him. A genius at taxation. Reads two books a day."

Great, thought Mitch. He should average ten a day in prison. "Yes, he's a very smart man. He's helped me out of a jam or two."

"Good. I think you'll get along fine. Try and see him sometime this morning. Now, Avery had some unfinished business in the Caymans. He goes there a lot, as you know, to meet with certain bankers. In fact, he was scheduled to leave tomorrow for a couple of days. He told me this morning you're familiar with the clients and the accounts, so we need you to go."

The Lear, the loot, the condo, the storage room, the accounts. A thousand thoughts flashed in his mind. It did not add up. "The Caymans? Tomorrow?"

"Yes, it's quite urgent. Three of his clients are in dire need of summaries of their accounts and other legal work. I wanted Milligan to go, but he's due in Denver in the morning. Avery said you could handle it."

"Sure, I can handle it."

"Fine. The Lear will take you. You'll leave around noon and return by commercial flight late Friday. Any problems?"

Yes, many problems. Ray was leaving prison. Tarrance was demanding the contraband. A half million bucks had to be collected. And he was scheduled to disappear anytime.

"No problems."

He walked to his office and locked the door. He kicked off his shoes, lay on the floor and closed his eyes.

The elevator stopped on the seventh floor, and Mitch bolted up the stairs to the ninth. Tammy opened the door and locked it behind him. He walked to the window.

"Were you watching?" he asked.

"Of course. The guard by your parking lot stood on the sidewalk and watched you walk here."

"Wonderful. Even Dutch follows me."

He turned and inspected her. "You look tired."

"Tired? I'm dead. In the past three weeks I've been a janitor, a secretary, a lawyer, a banker, a wh.o.r.e, a courier and a private investigator. I've flown to Grand Cayman nine times, bought nine sets of new luggage and hauled back a ton of stolen doc.u.ments. I've driven to Nashville four times and flown ten. I've read so many bank records and legal c.r.a.p I'm half blind. And when it's bedtime, I put on my little Dustbusters shirt and play maid for six hours. I've got so many names, I've written them on my hand so I won't get confused."

"I've got another for you."

"This doesn't surprise me. What?"

"Mary Alice. From now on, when you talk to Tarrance, you're Mary Alice."

"Let me write that down. I don't like him. He's very rude on the phone."

"I've got great news for you."

"I can't wait."

"You can quit Dustbusters."

"I think I'll lie down and cry. Why?"

"It's hopeless."

"I told you that a week ago. Houdini couldn't get files out of there, copy them and sneak them back in without getting caught."

"Did you talk to Abanks?" Mitch asked.

"Yes."

"Did he get the money?"

"Yes. It was wired Friday."

"Is he ready?"

"Said he was."

"Good. What about the forger?"

"I'm meeting with him this afternoon."

"Who is he?"

"An ex-con. He and Lomax were old pals. Eddie said he was the best doc.u.ments man in the country."

"He'd better be. How much?"

"Five thousand. Cash, of course. New IDs, pa.s.sports, driver's licenses and visas."

"How long will it take him?"

"I don't know. When do you need it?"

Mitch sat on the edge of the rented desk. He breathed deeply and tried to think. To calculate. "As soon as possible. I thought I had a week, but now I don't know. Just get it as soon as possible. Can you drive to Nashville tonight?"

"Oh yes. I'd love to. I haven't been there in two days."