A/N: Thank you to all those who continue to read and review this story. I inserted a couple of references to Thornhill and Partridge making calls and Deeks gathering some undercover intel.
Callen looked up as Kensi walked into Ops. It wasn't like her to check out in the middle of the day, but then she had been acting weird lately.
"I checked through Peck's computer. On the surface there was nothing, but I checked the registry. Several files, all relating to Sunshine Desalination, were deleted."
"Sunshine Desalination is an R&D firm. Its stock price has increased by almost 800% in the last month," said Nell.
"Several leaks have suggested that the company is on the verge of a producing a major breakthrough," said Eric.
"Also, a risk assessor at Baylor Zimm, Peter Griffin, published a positive report on Sunshine Desalination. The buy frenzy started at Baylor Zimm, but it's since spread to other firms," said Nell.
"I don't suppose there's a way to find out if anyone brought a whole lot of stock just before the frenzy started," said Callen.
"Three companies: WTF Investments, Bacon Financial and FTC Capital all purchased significant stock holdings in the week before the issue of the report," said Nell.
"Who is behind them?"
"The companies are all directed by a lawyer and the address for service is Jenkins Corporate Services, a Wyoming company that incorporates other companies and then receives mail and acts in the name of the actual owner, shady but not illegal," said Eric.
"Barely," added Nell.
"Sam and I'll go talk to Peter Griffin," said Callen. "Send the information to Agent Platt and her team."
Kensi pulled Nell aside. "Keep looking into those companies. Is there some way to find out who's behind them without tipping them off?"
"If we had a warrant I could have Eric do a virtual sneak and peek, but we'd need probable cause."
"I'll look into it."
Sam and Callen drove out to Peter Griffin's house in Montecito Heights. He had gone home shortly after Kensi and Nell had left.
"Do you think he was just overwhelmed with emotion from the death of his colleague? Callen said.
"Well, I think he was overwhelmed by something," replied Sam.
"This is a nice house, and that's a $50,000 car in the driveway," said Sam. Griffin liked the high life, it could make him easy to exploit.
Callen pulled out his phone. "Eric, can you have Nell run Griffin's financials."
"She's on it."
"Do we have Griffin's phone number?"
"Yeah, Nell and Kensi got all the employee's numbers during their visit."
"Start a DNR, I want to know who he calls."
"On it."
"And see if you can't find out who he called before the murder."
"You want me to make your dinner while I'm at it."
"That'd be great."
Griffin answered the door almost as soon as Sam knocked.
After the pleasantries, Callen saw no reason not to cut to the chase. "Where did you get the tip about Sunshine Desalination?"
"A confidential source."
"Someone at Sunshine?"
"I have to protect identities." It seemed to Callen that the only person Griffin was protecting was himself.
"We don't care about insider trading, we care about murder. And we know the two things are connected."
"No comment."
"You really want to be arrested for obstruction?" Sam said, his voice hardening. Technically, Griffin couldn't be charged with obstruction for refusing to answer, but there was no reason he needed to know that.
"You can prove that my source is germane to the investigation? Or that anything I've said is untrue?" Griffin had clearly been better briefed than they had anticipated.
"Mr Griffin, it's in your best interests to work with us."
"I have nothing more to say and I request that you ask any further questions through my lawyer."
Callen and Sam headed down the front steps.
"He knows," said Sam. "But he's not prepared to eat so much as a false statement charge for it. Then we'll run at him again."
"Yeah," Callen agreed. "We've shaken the tree. Let's see what comes loose."
Deeks sat on his motorcycle almost two blocks from Marcellus Wallace's main distribution point. He'd been sitting there for almost an hour just watching as people came and went. There was a vacant overlooking the court yard where James and John had been instructed to watch from. He could see the two men driving towards him now.
He leaned over as they pulled up alongside. "How many?"
"Twenty, mostly lookouts and touts and runners," said James. "There are three or four that might cause trouble, but only Wallace and the guy on the stash are armed."
"Good. Follow my lead."
Deek started his motorbike and headed down the street towards the entrance while John made a u-turn to follow. Deeks stopped just short of the entrance and then walked in without looking back, though he could hear James and John get out of the car and follow him. Deeks walked up to the chief, brushing past two of his associates as he did so. For Max, appearance of confidence was just as important as substance.
"You owe us $10,000. Where is it?"
Marcellus Wallace looked at him, sizing him up, the made the mistake of assuming that Max was an idiot. The hair could have that effect on people, which was part of the point. "Police came by and took it."
"Where's the evidence control number?"
"Excuse me?"
"When the police take your stuff, they create an evidence control number. You can get it. What is the number?"
Marcellus failed to come up with a witty retort. Instead, he drew and pointed a pistol, gangster style, at Deeks's face with his right hand.
It was the opening Deeks had been expecting. Deeks ducked and stepped to his left. He grabbed Wallace's wrist with his right hand and slammed his left palm into the dealers elbow, snapping it in the wrong direction. The dealer screamed and dropped the pistol to the ground. Deeks kicked the Wallace's knee so he dropped to his knees. Deeks delivered three quick punches to the dealer's face which put the dealer on his back. It took less than ten seconds. The crew were dumbfounded. Deeks' back up wasn't much better, but they recovered quickly enough that they were able to draw their own pistols - not gangster style, thank god - and cover the crew.
Deeks stood over the Wallace."Please," the dealer whimpered. Deeks shook a little inside, but he couldn't afford to appear weak, not now. Not ever.
"You have twenty four hours to get the cash to the drop, or I'll be back." He walked back towards his motorcycle. His confederates followed.
"He looked like a bitch," said one. Deeks balled his hands into fists, mainly to stop them from shaking.
"You two take the car back to the warehouse. I have another errand to run." He turned back towards his motorcycle.
"What?"
Deeks turned back. He was taller than the two men ordinarily, but with his chest spread and standing at his full height right in their faces, he towered over them. "Laundry, what's it to you?" Apparently it was nothing. Deeks got on his motorbike.
He made a series of quick turns and then pulled into an alley. He hopped off the bike and leaned against a wall. When he was satisfied that he hadn't been followed, he sank down and his feet slid away from the wall. He bent double with his hands on his knees and let out a shuddering breath.
"You are not your father," he whispered. That helped as much as it usually did.
Callen and Sam were heading back to the Mission when Eric called. "Talk to me Eric."
"After you left, Griffin called a number, I ran a reverse directory search, its a burner cell. The call lasted four and a half minutes. I'm working on past calls for both numbers now.
"And the good stuff?"
"I managed to get the phone company to hand over Gregory Peck's phone meta data. Guess who his last two calls were with?"
"Peter Griffin."
"The one and only."
Callen turned to Sam. "Why do smart people always think that lying to us will get them anywhere?"
"Because they're stupid," said Sam as he pulled the Challenger into a u-turn.
"The calls were placed at around 7pm and then at about 12.30am the night Peck was killed."
"Thanks Eric."
Callen, Sam and Kensi stood in front of the screen in the boatshed.
"What occasions the call Agent Platt?"
"Whoever is behind the shell companies was using Baylor Zimm as a boiler room."
"How do you know that?" Callen asked.
"Because they just sold their stocks in Sunshine Desalination. The market is flooded with shares. The stock price is cratering."
"How much did Baylor Zimm have invested in Sunshine? How much did their clients?"
"Millions. And they're going to lose everything."
Sam and Callen walked into the interrogation room in the boat shed. "I didn't have anything to do with it," said Griffin.
"To do with what?" Sam asked.
"And would you like to explain the calls you made to Gregory Peck the night he was killed?" Callen asked.
"Or the call you made to a burner phone before we were even out the door."
"Or the fifty thousand dollars recently deposited in your bank account?"
"It's only a matter of time before we put this together on our own and when we do, you'll eat the whole meal."
"Okay look, I took the money she gave me and I wrote the report the way that she wanted it, but I never knew anybody was going to get hurt," said Peck, gesticulating as much as his cuffed hands would allow to emphasise his point.
"And you didn't see how luring him out in the middle of the night would be dangerous."
"When Greg srarted asking questions I called her, she said she'd handle it. A couple of nights later she told me to tell him I wanted to meet." Griffin shifted in his seat. "I did what I was told. I called Greg and then I went to a bar and got wasted."
"Who told you to make the call?"
"I can't, I mean, what if people found out? I know what they do to rats."
"You're going down for aiding a murder. You can do it in San Quentin or in Club Fed, whichever you want."
"Jennifer Gates."
Callen and Sam walked out of interrogation. Sam turned to Callen. "Jennifer Gates isn't strong enough to carry a body half way up a mountain."
"Nell, do we have anything on the front companies?"
"Yeah, the lawyer tried to stall until we explained that we had evidence that the companies were involved in a multi-million dollar stock fraud. The companies were incorporated on the orders of Jennifer Gates."
Kensi led the way through the door to Gates' apartment, shotgun raised. Nell was right behind her.
"Federal agents."
Kensi swept left to the glass which made up one entire wall of the apartment. The pair walked quickly up the corridor that led into the main room of the studio apartment. Gates was sitting on the couch facing away from the entrance.
Kensi covered Gates with shotgun. "Federal agents, hands in the air." Gates didn't move.
Nell speed walked over to the bathroom and disappeared inside briefly before returning. "Clear." She turned to cover Gates and then blanched and lowered her pistol.
Kensi walked around slightly. There was an entry wound in the side of Gates' head and a pistol in her right hand.
Kensi and Rose watched as two medics loaded Gates' body onto a gurney.
"It doesn't fit," said Kensi
"What doesn't fit?" Rose asked.
"Gates was middle management at a second tier brokerage. She doesn't have the connections or the capital to be the one behind something like this."
"Maybe she made the money from trades, she was a broker," said Rose.
"And she was left handed."
"I see where you're going, but you can't assume that someone who's suicidal is going to behave rationally."
Kensi headed after the medics. "Hold up." The medics stopped and Kensi pulled the body bag open. She pushed Gates' collar around until she found what she was looking for. "Look."
Rose stepped forward. "Puncture wound, looks to be too big for an insect bite. I'll run tests back at the lab. So who killed Gates and made it look like a suicide."
"I don't know." But she had an idea. "We need to tear this place apart."
Kensi followed Sam and Callen into the boat shed. Stephanie Platt was waiting.
When they were seated, Agent Platt began her presentation. "The money was same day cleared to a company in Houston called Capital Asset Management. It's owned and directed by Mr Graeme Egret." A map of the United States appeared on screen, with a single line reaching from LA to Houston. "By the time we knew that had happened and traced the account, the money had been sent offshore to the company's bank account in Panama." The map pulled out, and linked Houston to Panama. From there the money went to hundreds of different recipients. The one's we've identified so far are hawala brokers, currency exchanges and investment banks." Platt pulled up list of account numbers, their host countries and, where it existed, a name of the account holder. Kensi made a mental note to check the account numbers against the ones Deeks had given her.
"And from there?"
"Not one of the accounts is in the US. It would take months to trace the recipients and by then the money would be gone."
"Can we trace this Graeme Egret?"
"The registered office is a cubbyhole in Nevada. Graeme Egret came in exactly once to sign the incorporation documents. They didn't take ID because they're not required to."
"The Panamanians?"
"They've given us all the information that Panamanian law requires them to give. They asked the lawyer down there for a copy of the Egret's ID. It's so bad it could be my picture on there."
"Is it?" Callen asked.
Agent Platt laughed.
"We didn't find a burner in Gates' apartment or any paper relating to the front companies or Sunshine," said Sam. "Her computer hard drive and personal cell were taken. Whoever is behind these guys, they're thorough."
I've been ordered to hand the case over to OFAC to see what they can do about retrieving some of the money." Platt was referring to the Office of Foreign Asset Control in the Department of Treasury. "I'll keep on them, but I figured you could use the data too. I've shared our case files with your office."
"Thank you."
"Max, please sit." Deeks sat in the seat Partridge indicated. Marcellus Wallace had delivered the required funds less than twelve hours after Deeks had been to see him. Partridge picked up a piece of paper with more bank accounts and passwords on it. Before Deeks could catch a glance Partridge dropped it into a shredder.
"You look relaxed."
"There was a thing, with a guy." Deeks crooked an eyebrow. "It was a couple of guys. It's settled now."
"That's good to hear."
"From what I hear, you're a guy who knows how to bring people together."
"Yeah, mainly arms, some drugs."
"Do you know cops, feds?"
"I could probably put you in touch with some people who do."
"Put it out there that your employer will pay big cash for any information whatsoever. Our names do not get out on the street."
"We have the cash to back that up? If I go telling people things and I can't deliver-"
"I'm going to stop you there before you say something you'll regret when you wake up. As of this morning, the answer is yes. We have more than enough."
"I'll put it out there."
"Good, if you get anything, call this number." Partridge handed over a card with the letters HI and a phone number. "Ask for Mary Spalding. Put them together and they'll make the music."
"Yeah."
"Okay. Second thing, you know how to get guns?"
"I know people who can get them."
"Good." He reached down behind his desk and dumped a block of bills in front of Deeks. "That's fifty grand. That's your street money for intel and guns. Put it out there that you're looking to buy serious hardware. I'll get back to you on specifics in a couple of days.
"On it."