Bobby POV
"This is it."
I'd just opened the door to the conference room at 1PP and once again found Alex on the floor.
She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of mounds of paperwork, much more than had been here the last time I'd stopped by.
She must have been burning up the internet and the printer in her effort to document Hassan's existence.
"This is it," she said again. "You can't hide from me, you arrogant little bastard."
"What'd you find?" I asked.
She looked up at me in surprise.
"When did you get here?"
"Just now," I said with a smirk. "I guess you weren't talking to me then."
"No," she said as she got to her feet. "But come look at this. Oh, where's Logan?"
"He's downstairs getting coffee."
It was Sunday afternoon and the three of us had been hard at it all day.
The team meeting at the federal building had mostly been a waste of time. There was a lot of finger pointing and name calling, but there wasn't a lot of evidence to go on.
We had the make and model of the car that Hassan had been riding in, along with the plate number and a vague description of the driver.
"It didn't take him long to replenish his entourage," Alex had mumbled to me when we were given the sketch. "And he's been in jail the whole time. He's got someone helping him from the outside."
We had a list of eight known addresses that Hassan had used during previous trips to New York.
We had files on three known associates.
And we had flags on his bank accounts.
We'd issued a BOLO as well, but Casteel had warned us that we had to tread carefully with that.
"He's been legally released. If a cop pulls him over in response to a BOLO, it can be seen as harassment."
"I'm willing to take that risk," Alex told him.
"You might be, but is the NYPD?"
"The alert can specify to follow as opposed to apprehend," I reminded the SAC. "It doesn't have to be harassment."
"I'm confused," Logan spoke up. "How is it that he managed to get released in the first place? We have witness statements attesting to the fact that he was attempting to purchase illegal weapons. Whether or not that would've been enough for a conviction, it's enough for an arrest. So why was he sitting around, uncharged?"
"We stalled the arrest while we were waiting for more evidence," Banta fired back. "Evidence which you three were going to provide."
"We wouldn't have needed to provide it if you knew how to do your job," Alex said sharply.
"You want to throw blame around, Eames? Well maybe if you and Goren had used a little more finesse when you confronted Stahl then she wouldn't have shot herself in the head! If she was still around, then she could've testified against Hassan and he would've been off the streets weeks ago!"
"Agent," Casteel warned. "You're out of line. We wouldn't have even known about Stahl if it weren't for these two. She made her choice, through no fault of theirs, so get over it. Right now we need to focus on getting a handle on Hassan."
"What does he know?" I asked. "That might change where he decides to go."
"He knows we used a plant," McHale said. "But he doesn't know Logan's name."
"Okay, well that's something," Alex said with some relief. "What can you do about our records in the Bureau database?"
"You want me to have them expunged?" Casteel offered.
"No, we want you to put a trace on them, on all of them. Everyone on the team, including the original team members. If the records are accessed, we can back track the hack," I said.
"Done," Casteel agreed.
"Good," Alex told him. "I'm going back to 1PP to go through Stahl's belongings."
"We're going to check out all eight last knowns," I supplied when she looked at me. "And we'll track down the three known associates."
"Everyone report back here this evening," Casteel directed. "Six o'clock."
It was currently four-thirty.
Logan and I had spent the day driving around the city, but every lead had proved worthless.
But now it seemed as though Alex had something.
"What is it?" I asked as I navigated my way through the mess on the floor.
"She had another identity."
"Stahl?" I asked in surprise.
"Uh huh. And I almost missed it."
"I did miss it. So did everyone else."
"That's because she was smart. But not smart enough."
Alex walked me through the intricate structure of named accounts and numbered accounts, all of which were owned by Wendy Stahl.
Except for one.
It owned by Wendy Stall.
The social security number was one digit off.
And what's the significance of that, considering these bank statements were mixed in with the others and still held no suspicious activity?
Because then Alex ran the other social security number, the one in the name of Wendy Stall, and she found six more bank accounts.
Off-shore.
Their combined worth was just over five million dollars.
"And look where the wires were coming from," she said, pointing to the repeated electronic transfers made on a bi-weekly basis, beginning early January of last year.
The deposits originated from another numbered account, this one based in Macau.
"They're not exactly known for their crafty banking," I mused as I looked over the papers. "Can we pin it to Hassan?"
"I'm working on it."
"Because this isn't one of the accounts the feds had listed," I reminded her.
"Right, but we know they don't have everything, because the money in those three accounts was a pittance compared to what he owns."
"If you're right, then Stahl's been on his payroll since January. She had to know that Ross was going to end up dead, even when she first recruited him."
"She played up to his need to do something of value."
"She completely sold him out. I wonder who else she gave up."
"What do you mean?"
"Did she give him information on the whole team?" I posed. "I mean, how would she know that Ross would be the one who needed to be eliminated? If any of the others became suspicious of what was going on, then they would've been targets, too. We know how easily Beemer was taken out."
"So you think that Hassan has details on the others," she said with a nod. "Banta, Rivas, McHale…"
"It's possible."
"And you know what else," she added. "She was getting payments up until four weeks ago. He was still paying her for something, even after Ross. He didn't keep in constant contact because he sent one after she died, but only one. So they were touching base regularly."
Logan entered the conference room, managing three cups of coffee in his hands, and he had a brown paper bag between his teeth.
I moved to help him with his stash, taking the coffees from him so that he could open the bag.
"We worked through lunch, and I'm sure you did, too," he commented to Alex as he pulled out a foil-wrapped hot dog and handed it to her. "And since we're meeting the feds at six, I'm sure dinner's going to be a wash, too. So what've we got here besides a few dozen trees?"
"Alex found an account under another name," I told him, barely masking my pride.
"What? No way. You and I both looked through those accounts."
"Not closely enough, apparently," I said as Alex showed him the paper.
"One letter isn't all that noticeable when you're running on no sleep," she demurred.
"You mean like you are now?"
She shrugged and then went over to the laptop that was on the table.
"So what does this mean?" he asked her.
"Her fake accounts had regular deposits from a numbered account in Macau. I'm trying to find out the identification of the account holder. I'm not sure if I'll be able to do that, but at the very least, I can get information on the recent activity. We might be able to use that to track where he's staying because we know he's not going to use the accounts that the feds have on their radar."
"How in the hell are you going to get the bank to give you that?" he asked her. "I mean, they're not the Swiss, but surely they don't just cough up the name or any details on a numbered account."
"No, they don't," she agreed. "First you have to have proof of account ownership by providing them with correct information."
"Such as…"
"Such as the exact amount of the most recent transaction," she said as she typed on the computer. "That will usually do it, and right now, the last transaction is a deposit in the amount of twenty-five thousand, three hundred seventy-eight dollars and sixteen cents."
"Eames, you've lost me," Logan said. "If you can't gain access to the numbered account, then how do you know the amount?"
"Because I just did a reverse transfer from the fake Stahl account to the numbered account. When the Banco Comercial de Macau opens for business in half an hour, I'll give them a call."
She sat back in the chair and took a bite of the hot dog.
"I could kiss you right now," Logan told her.
"Hold off on that until we see if it works," she deflected.
"Um, yeah, you can hold off on that anyway," I said.
"Are you jealous, Goren?" he asked with a grin.
I couldn't blame him for teasing. The mood was suddenly lighter now that we had a possible lead. Up to this point, we felt like we'd been chasing our tails.
"Of you? I don't think so."
"Oh, come on. Captain Alonzo thought I was good enough."
"Yeah, and look what happened to her," I retorted. "She didn't exactly show good judgment."
"Be nice, Goren," Alex interjected. "It's not that Logan's not good enough."
"Thank you, Captain."
"It's just that he's not you," she finished, flashing me a smile. "And that's all the talking we're going to do about that in this building."
"Yes, ma'am," Logan agreed quickly. "I can't wait to see Banta's face when we go back to the federal building armed with Hassan's hidden bank account and whatever information that gives us. If it's one that he's using, we'll be able to track his movements."
"That's right. They've been sitting on these boxes for six weeks. If they'd done a better job going through her things instead of just trying to bury it all, they might have found it by now."
We finished the hot dogs and the coffee and then Alex called the bank.
After providing them with the account number and the details about the most recent transaction, she started her ruse.
"I'm trying to balance the account and it's not coming out right, so I think I must have forgotten to write something down, or maybe my husband made a withdrawal and forgot to tell me. Can you give me the last few debits?"
I read over her shoulder as she wrote the information down.
January 16 - ATM $500.00
January 16 - WT $5,000.00
January 16 - WT $50,000.00
"Hassan's been busy," I commented quietly.
"I think there must be some mistake," Alex continued on the phone. "There should only be one wire transfer."
She listened for a moment and then quickly jotted down:
50K – account 6329914445, WF
5K – account 3746573241, BOA
"Okay, I'm sorry. You're right," Alex said. "And the ATM withdrawal. That was in Brooklyn, right?"
Chase, W. 96th and Broadway
"See, that's why I can't trust my husband to keep up with this account," Alex said on a laugh. "He didn't even mention that one. I guess the one in Brooklyn isn't showing up yet, but I think I'm straight now," she told her. "Thank you very much."
She hung up and set down her phone as she said, "And she instructed me, Mrs. Hassan, to have a lovely Monday."
"So he used an ATM in the Upper West Side?" Logan asked as he pulled out his phone. "I'll get us the security footage."
"The fifty grand is probably the lawyer. He worked all weekend to get Hassan out of federal jail. I'm sure that wasn't cheap," Alex commented.
"Uh huh," I agreed. "We'll confirm that first thing in the morning. And we can find out who was important enough to get five grand out of Hassan, too."
"Someone who's putting him up," Alex suggested.
"Or maybe the new body guard service. Those guys don't come cheap, especially since their predecessors ended up in the morgue."
"He's not going to get away this time," she said as she got up from the table. "Let me get this mess organized into something manageable and then we'll head over to the federal building."
"We need to make a stop first," Logan said when he hung up. "I've got a black and white headed to Chase to get the security tape. I told him we'd meet him at the 9-7."
Our exhaustion was forgotten as Logan and I helped Alex put all of the damning bank documents into one of the boxes and then we left 1PP.
I wasn't sure how much help the security footage would be except that hopefully it would give us visual confirmation that the account in question was Hassan's.
And depending on the angle of the camera and where the car was parked, it might show us how many others were with him at that point.
And it would let us put a time stamp on exactly when he was in that area.
We picked up the tape without taking the time to look at it and made it to the federal building by six-fifteen.
The others were all in the same conference room where we'd met this morning.
Well, all except for Banta.
"Where is he?" Alex asked.
"I haven't heard from him," Lacey said. "We worked here until around two and then he said that he needed to go home."
"Home?" Logan questioned. "Why?"
"He said he hadn't showered since yesterday morning," McHale told us. "And he figured we'd be working all night. Our progress was stalled, and he was just hoping that you guys had found something so that we'd have fresh leads to work on."
"I'll call him," Rivas said. "I'm sure he's on the way."
I wasn't so sure.
I caught Alex's eye and I could tell that she was thinking the same thing.
If Stahl had shared information on the entire team, then Hassan would know where everyone lived.
And Banta…in his apartment with a great view of the river…
"Alex," I said quietly. "That ATM."
"I know," she said with a nod.
"What is it?" Logan asked us.
"It's near where Banta lives," I answered.
"He's not answering," Rivas announced as he hung up his phone. "We'll give him a few more minutes and then get started without him."
"We need to take a drive," Logan said.
"Uh huh."
"We're going to check on him," Alex announced to the others. "Call me if he shows up here."
"You think something's wrong?" Lacey asked, suddenly catching on to our concern.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But it's not like him to be late. And we have evidence that Hassan was in the vicinity of Banta's apartment."
"What kind of evidence?" Rivas asked.
"ATM security footage," Logan said, tossing the tape onto the table.
"We're monitoring his accounts. There's been no activity."
"Well, you missed one," Alex told them. "And he knows it. That's the one he's using."
"Why would he go after Banta?" McHale asked. "Hassan's a weapons dealer, not a killer."
"He's both," I corrected. "Just because he doesn't do it himself doesn't mean he's not a killer. Anyone standing between him and his business is a liability."
"But he should be thanking Banta," Lacey said. "I mean, we all know that if it weren't for him, Hassan would be in a world of shit right now."
"So maybe Banta's working with Hassan," Logan suggested. "Maybe he replaced Stahl on the payroll."
"No," Rivas insisted. "Banta's not dirty."
"Then why isn't he here?" I asked him.
"I don't know," he answered, picking up his phone again.
"He wouldn't just not show," I said.
"No," Lacey agreed. "You're right about that."
"You guys look over that tape and get the time stamp on when Hassan made the withdrawal," Alex instructed. "See what other evidence you can pull from it, too, and we'll go to Banta's place."
We left the conference room and went back to the car.
"I don't like this," Logan muttered as we headed back towards the Upper West Side. "I don't like this at all."
"We don't know that anything's wrong. It could be nothing," Alex reasoned.
But none of us believed that.
And none of us really believed that Banta was dirty.
If he was, then he would've shown up and continued to work the investigation, possibly trying to lead us down the wrong path.
So by the time we got to his building, we'd all pretty much made up our minds that Banta was in some serious trouble.
But we were still weren't prepared for what we found.
His apartment door was open and the place was in shambles.
In the kitchen, Banta was tied to a chair.
He'd been badly beaten. Tortured was probably a better word.
And he was most definitely dead.
TBC...