Disclaimer: Don't own Fenton or Laura
Flashback: A series of events two-three weeks after the robbery
"Where are they?" asked Fenton quietly.
"I told you, I don't know," said the man in front of him.
"We have you for auto theft. Since the car you stole was used in a robbery, we can charge you as an accessory. You're going to jail. If you help us, I'll tell the D.A. you cooperated and you might get a reduced sentence."
"Cooperated!" he snorted. "That won't do me any good. You hear what happened to the last guy who ratted them out? I might as well shoot myself."
"Not if we send you to a prison on the other side of the country. Think about it."
Fenton walked out of the interrogation room and watched Peter Thorton through the one-way glass. I'll give him a little while to think it over, he thought. And then maybe we'll get answers.
People had told him often that he was the luckiest detective they knew. But, he never really believed them. For him it was always a matter of connecting the dots and finding the patterns. But, when he saw the photograph that he took that night, he did thank his lucky stars. The license plate was remarkably clear. It belonged to a van that had been reported stolen two weeks before. Normally, that would have been the end of it, except that the van had been dumped in a parking lot last week – a mall parking lot. The owner of the mall was a paranoid person who had installed a security camera in the parking lot.
Reviewing security footage had taken hours, and Fenton had to practically twist arms to get permission for Officer Young and Matt to help him. But, it had been worth it. Officer Young found a nice clear picture of the person who had dropped off the van. Peter Thorton was a low-life criminal who was already known to the Philadelphia police department because he had a record for forging checks. Ties to organized crime had been suspected, but never proved. Deciding that Peter had stewed for long enough, Fenton walked back into the interrogation room.
"No, no, no," said Peter immediately. "I may be a thief, but I'm not a rat."
"They wouldn't be so considerate of you if I had them here. You'd be hung out to dry." Sitting down Fenton continued. "With your previous record, a judge will give you the maximum sentence. The police department is extremely embarrassed by this high-profile robbery. They are going to hang the entire thing around your neck unless you give me something!"
Seeing Peter grow even more stubborn, Fenton changed tactics. "It's your decision. This is a chance for you to do something different with your life. Cooperate with me and I'll tell the D.A. that you should do time for the car theft but nothing for the robbery. You'll be out of jail relatively soon and you can then get on with your life. The choice is yours, Peter."
"I want that deal in writing and a cigarette," Peter said firmly. "Then I'll tell you what I know…
"Here it is. The D.A. agreed." said Fenton a couple hours later. "It is contingent on what you tell us. You'll plead guilty to automobile theft. If your information isn't good enough, if you omit anything, or if you lie to me the slightest bit, the deal is off."
"Ok. I was hired to steal the van and make arrangements for some of the equipment they used. I was given access to a bank account and funds came directly from there. I made a delivery to a warehouse, and only talked over a phone. They called me, I never called them so I don't even have a number. I never met anyone directly."
"Bank account number, suppliers and list of equipment," said Fenton sliding a sheet of paper across the table with a pen. "But I'm afraid without any more information, that's not enough to justify your agreement. I'll have to go back to the D.A." He started to get up from the table.
"Wait! There's something else. It's just a rumor but…"
"Cough it up," said Fenton firmly and fixed Peter with a steely gaze. Far into the future, that gaze would cause a stubborn 12 year old Joe to admit where he had hidden all of the Halloween candy that was supposed to go to trick-or-treaters.
"Word on the street is that Camarazzi and Amaldo met each other at a party and got into a fight. The entire account is pretty sketchy but basically Amaldo told Camarazzi that he would be the best and Camarazzi would be nothing. Amaldo has usually controlled the high-end art thefts – and Camarazzi is trying to take business away from him."
"So, this entire thing is a vendetta between two mob bosses?"
"Uh-huh. Amaldo insulted Camarazzi's dear, departed wife. They haven't spoken to each other since."
"What else?"
"Huh?"
"No, you know something else. What?"
"Amaldo's wife owns this fancy jewelry – diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, the works. Worth at least a million dollars. Lady never wears it. Keeps it in a bank 'cept on special occasions. Camarazzi's going to go after it."
"Which bank? Tell me, and you'll have earned your deal several times over."
"Savings Bank – Bayport, NY"
Laura wished she could forget. She also wished that what was coming would never come. For the first time in her life, she started wondering what she had gotten into.
Her life of crime started when she was an art student. Her best friend Beth and come to her after she had gotten a D in Anthropology 101. She really should have gotten a B. Her slimy professor had dropped her two full letter grades after she had rebuffed his advances.
Laura felt a thrill as she hacked into the university system and changed everybody's grades. Beth had gotten a B. The cutest guy in the class had gotten an A. The snob nobody liked got a C. Although Laura had been questioned along with Beth's other friends, withstanding the interrogation had been easy. The public safety cops never had any proof and everybody kept the grades Laura had given them. She loved the thrill and the power at first. But it was also about greed. This longing for material goods, to have things that nobody else knew she had. Nobody had ever gotten hurt and she always only stole from people who had more money than they knew what to do with. When Thomas had approached her offering an easy way to get rich fast, she had never looked back. Until the latest robbery
"Problems?" inquired Eric as everyone emerged from the van that night and he noticed the undercurrent of tension and energy.
"Hardy," growled Thomas.
"Hey, cool it," said Don sensing that this was about to turn ugly. "We got everything and we got away. No worries."
Thomas ignored him and continued: "I suggest you ask Laura how they knew we were coming".
"What?" Laura could not believe Thomas was doing this to her. "They didn't know."
"You met with Fenton Hardy. You must have told him." The worse of it was that Thomas knew exactly what betrayal he committed and how easily it could have gotten her killed.
"I was drawing," said Laura through clenched teeth. "Fenton came by and complimented me on my work. He may be a cop, but he has good manners. I thanked him. We talked about color hues. He asked me if I had seen any suspicious people hanging around, and I told him no. That's all."
"But you made me find someone else to call him."
"I was afraid he would recognize my voice from that encounter, that's all. While I was in the curator's office under the desk, Fenton came in and read the same papers I did. He probably realized that just anyone could have read them!"
"And the way you yelled his name earlier?" Thomas's expression was impossible to read.
"I was just surprised. There's no way he could have heard me. Look, if he had really known we were there, we never would have gotten out."
"Quiet! I've heard enough," Eric broke in.
"Laura, we're assuming you've been made. I can't believe either of you didn't tell me immediately. Normally, I would have you out now with orders to keep your mouth shut. But, you'll be needed for the next job."
Laura's sigh of relief was interrupted as the rest of Eric's words registered. But Jim spoke first.
"Next job?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow. "This was the last one. I'm out." He started to leave, but the goon by the door displayed the pistol at his hip and Eric spoke behind him.
"You're out when I say you're out. Not before. We're going after the Amaldo family safe deposit box next."
"With all due respect, sir, that's enough. Eventually somebody'll get hurt because of your personal vendetta. It won't be me. I'm leaving." Laura could not believe Jim had the nerve to say half as much.
"You have a daughter I believe?" said Eric "You stay with me or she will have a little accident." His gaze shifted to the rest of them. "That goes for all of you." He turned and left without another word. Jim and Laura exchanged angry glances. Her sympathy for him was as plain as the absolute fury on his face. Jim will never forgive him. Not now, not ever. Eric's made himself an enemy.
"That was outrageous!" Laura vented to Thomas hours later. "I don't believe it. And threatening his kid!"
"He was going to leave. Dad did what he had to do."
"He crossed the line. Now Jim will always hate him, and I couldn't blame him the least. And you, why did you sell me out – that could have been it!"
"It was your fault. Ever since you met Fenton Hardy you haven't been the same. Your voice, your gestures, they've changed."
"I haven't changed. I love you. I just agree with Jim. Eric's gone too far. We have plans – the two of us getting married and having a life together. When is that going to happen?"
"Soon. Very soon, Laura." Thomas reached out to touch her arm but Laura pulled back.
"I don't want soon. I want now. What's gotten into you? Two months ago you would have agreed with me."
Thomas sighed. "Since I was a kid, I always wanted to make my father proud of me. But, I'll never be as good as you. You make it look easy. If I stay, if we stay, I can make him proud of me."
"Is that why you won't leave? If it comes down to a choice between me and him, which one will you choose?"
Thomas didn't answer and Laura slammed the door on her way out.
The next morning Eric had called Laura into his study. "Come in," he said with a smile that was the most genuine Laura had seen from him yet. I had promised you a promotion if everything went well. Despite your potential error, it was a success. So, as of this moment you are my right hand operative. Congratulations!"
Laura was silent and Eric said "I know this means a lot to you. I was expecting more of a reaction."
"What about Thomas," she finally said. "Does he know."
"You and I know he'll never be as good as you. Now you'll get 10 of every transaction within the organization." Eric expected to see greed or pleasure on her face, but he didn't see anything so he continued. "Like I said last night, we're going after a safe deposit box in a bank. Mrs. Amaldo's jewelry is there and is estimated at over a million dollars. I just can't wait to hear about his reaction when he finds out his wife's jewelry is gone."
"Which bank?" Laura asked.
"Bayport Savings Bank. Bayport, NY."
"You're right," said Eric to Thomas two hours later. "She's different. Keep an eye on her for me, would you?"
Laura had never regretted her life of crime, and she still didn't. What she had told Fenton was true – she had never looked back. She just needed to find a way forward out of this mess.
Bayport, thought Fenton. Never heard of it… His thoughts were interrupted by Matt who yelled across the room "Phone for you, Fenton!"
"Hey Fenton, it's Doug," said the voice on the other end of the line. Doug was the FBI counterterrorism agent who had gotten his start as a New York City cop. "You asked me to check on the Camarazzi money laundering operations. Well, someone wants to meet you. Just go to the FBI office in Philadelphia and he'll be waiting for you there."
"Thanks man, I won't forget it." Five minutes later, Fenton was on his way. The nameless suit that was waiting for him at the FBI office had a file an inch thick.
"So you're interested in Camarazzi," he said by way of greeting. "I've been watching them for almost three years. This art thing is relatively new; they've traditionally been into money laundering. They started out pretty small and then worked their way up to finally get onto our radar screen."
"How do they usually operate?" asked Fenton.
"Off-shore bank accounts, shell corporations and intermediaries – your standard financial crime layout. They blackmail people for money. There's an entire branch involved in drugs as well. We've been pretty successful at tracking those down, but there are still more. They have pulled off some bank robberies too, both electronically by hacking into bank accounts and with guns."
"How do they get away with it?"
"Ruthless secrecy and absolute loyalty. People either join for life or keep their mouths shut if they don't want it shut permanently by Eric Camarazzi. The people they blackmail never talk. We nearly caught them last time. We had a trap all ready to go. But, one of their best people realized it was a trap at the last minute. We've also had a lot of trouble figuring out who works with them. The small-time criminals like Peter Thorton don't usually know enough and for the most part, the heavy-weights just blend in with everyone else."
"Tough luck. He must be top-notch if he avoided your trap."
"She. We finally got a picture of her a couple months ago. Sorry for not getting it to you earlier." He took a photograph from the folder and handed it to Fenton. "Her name is Laura Basden."
"Peter knows their next target. It's a safe-deposit box in Bayport, NY at Bayport Savings Bank," said Fenton holding the photographs in his hand.
"That's just outside of New York City," said the suit. "I'll let the FBI office in New York know you'll be looking into it. Contact them when you need help."
"I'm surprised they aren't taking over my investigation," Fenton commented.
"For the moment. You brought this to our attention, and you're smart enough not to do anything stupid so we'll give you that courtesy. We also made a mistake of not circulating that picture. But, keep us informed." The FBI agent left.
"Will do," said Fenton to his back and looked down at the photo in his hand. Those eyes! his brain screeched. I'd know them anywhere!
Why?Why?Why? he asked himself later. Her words came back to him - "how it is much easier to draw what we think is there rather than what is actually there. The challenge is allowing our eyes to see what is really there without the mind interfering. "
His mind refused to believe that he had had lunch three times and had been oblivious as to who he was eating with. His eyes told him that the blue eyes staring at him in the picture were those of the woman he had met about a month ago named Joie. A woman who had made him laugh, who had taken his mind off his job, and who was interesting and great to talk to. Apparently her name wasn't Joie at all – it was Laura.
Throughout this career as a law-enforcement officer, he had never had any sympathy whatsoever for criminals. Regardless of how hard their upbringing was; what neighborhood they grew up in or what family they came from, everyone made their own decisions. He had seen men from some of the toughest neighborhoods become dedicated cops and some other men who had the misfortune to be born into criminal families break away from them. Those experiences left him with the conviction that everyone chose their own fate and were accountable for their actions – nothing less, nothing more. But, this woman had a hold on him. He couldn't help but think that her life could have turned out differently, should have turned out differently.
Rule number two was not to mix the business and the personal. He had sworn to himself that his job would always come first. He meant it to stay that way. And now, his job was to bring her organization down.