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“Excellent.” Marc gathered up his writing materials. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You do the same.”
Morano’s smile faded the minute the door shut behind Marc’s retreating figure. He waited until he heard the car drive away. Then he picked up his cell phone and punched in a number.
“We’ve got a problem,” he informed the person at the other end. “And it could mean trouble.”
CHAPTER NINE
Casey spent the morning leaning over Ryan’s shoulder, then following up on anything he produced. Intermittently, she called Amanda to check on the baby’s condition. What she heard didn’t sound good. Neither did Amanda. She sounded as if she were coming apart at the seams. And who could blame her?
The clock inside Casey’s head ticked loudly.
They needed more time. They didn’t have any.
Her lips tight with frustration, Casey paced back over to Ryan, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her toe on the floor.
That did it.
“You know, I don’t work well with people breathing down my neck, boss,” Ryan flat-out stated. If he didn’t speak up, he’d lose his mind. “Not only does it drive me nuts, it also slows me down.”
Exhaling sharply, Casey walked away and began fiddling with one of Ryan’s gadgets. “Sorry. I just hear the sheer panic in Amanda’s voice and I feel helpless. I don’t do helplessness.”
“I hear you. But I’m on the verge of hacking into John Morano’s bank accounts. I want to see if he’s got the same kind of pattern going as Paul Everett did—whopping bank balances, equally whopping withdrawals. I also want to see if he’s paying the same twenty grand at the same six-week time intervals as Paul Everett was. If he is, then it’s a safe bet that the payoffs have to do with the hotel construction. If not, then Everett was in over his head about something else. Either way, we need to know.”
Casey nodded. “We also need to know if his payment methods are the same—cash, rather than bank transfers. To me, that screams organized crime. This isn’t a kidnapping, so it’s not ransom money. And big wheels who extort money do it through anonymous wire transfers to overseas accounts, to places like the Cayman Islands.”
“Yeah, all the data seems to be pointing in that direction.” Ryan’s brows knit in concentration. “Interesting. As hard as it was to break into Everett’s account, it’s harder to break into Morano’s. Anyone less talented than me would never get through.”
Despite her somber mood, Casey’s lips twitched. “You really should work on your self-esteem, Ryan. It sucks that you think so little of yourself.”
A shrug. “Just being honest. You hired me because I’m the best. And I am the best. I’m just wondering if, after Paul Everett had to be dealt with, whoever dealt with him decided to tighten the reins so it would be near impossible to get into John Morano’s… There!” Ryan exclaimed, leaning back and pumping his arms in a “yes-s-s-s” motion. “I’m in.”
“Okay, you win.” Casey was appended to his side again. “You’re a techno-god. I bow to your genius. Now let’s see what you found.”
They both peered at the screen as Ryan scanned through a list of bank entries and withdrawals. “Look.” He pointed at a series of lines. “Same pattern. Same dollar amount. Same time frame. But still ongoing.” Ryan angled his head toward Casey. “Maybe that explains why he’s still with us and Paul Everett is—in whatever capacity—gone. Maybe Amanda’s boyfriend refused to play nice anymore. And that made him a liability rather than an asset—especially if he threatened to report the blackmail to the cops.”
“What would make him do a one-eighty like that?” Casey asked. “First he’s playing ball with the bad guys and then he suddenly stops—why? You can’t tell me that love for Amanda transformed him into another man—not when it meant risking jail time. No real-life relationship is that strong.”
Ryan snorted. “This is me you’re talking to. I don’t deal in romantic crap.”
“Well, something made him stop. Something or someone.” Casey was thoughtful for a moment. “Let’s talk about Lyle Fenton. You said that he was the one holdout in terms of lining up contractors.”
“Yup. That’s true with Everett and it’s still true with Morano. He didn’t sign on with either of them. I don’t know what he wants, but I’d love to ask him. He’s clearly holding out for something.”
“Patrick is playing fly-on-the-wall during Fenton’s lunch with Congressman Mercer today. He’ll see if there’s any tie between them, beyond financial support for his political career. That’s step one toward getting inside Lyle
Fenton’s head.” Casey shot Ryan a quizzical look. “You checked Fenton’s itinerary?”
A nod. “His private jet is scheduled to land at Long Island MacArthur Airport in Islip at 5:30 p.m.”
“Islip. So he’s going straight back to the Hamptons, not stopping in Manhattan.”
“Right, or he’d be flying into JFK.”
“Good. Then he’ll be home in the evening. Let’s hear what Patrick has to say. Then I’m giving Amanda a call and asking her to set up a meeting for Marc and me with her uncle—for tonight. She already told him she hired us. Given the urgency of Justin’s condition, there’ll be no question about our timing. Marc’s already out there. I’ll jump in the car and join him.”
Ryan’s brows raised. “So you’re making this all about the baby. I get that. But Fenton was already tested to see if he was a donor match. He wasn’t. So what else is there to ostensibly talk to him about that’s so urgent—unless you plan on telling Amanda the truth about our suspicions and asking for her help in fabricating a reason?”
