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“They’re payoffs. Big ones. The question is, who made them? James? How’d he get them by Frederick? By embezzling? If so and if Frederick found out, did he threaten to take him down, nephew or not? Is that why he’s dead? Did Rhodes stumble onto all this? Is that why he became a threat?”
Blake didn’t respond.
“Let’s start with the basics,” Monty said. “Did you know this account existed?”
“Not a clue.”
Monty nodded, glancing over the other entries. “These two names show up repeatedly—Lawrence Vista and Gerald Paterson. Mean anything to you?”
“One does,” Blake supplied in a flat monotone. “Vista. He’s an equestrian vet and genetic consultant. He works for my grandfather. From what I understand, Vista’s advising my grandfather on the best breeding partners for his show horses.”
“And getting paid a king’s ransom to do it. A dozen monthly payments of twenty grand each, during last year alone. Quite a hefty consulting fee. Not bad for equestrian matchmaking. What about Gerald Paterson? Know him?”
Blake shook his head. “Never heard of him.”
Monty studied the details more closely. “The payments were transferred to Paterson’s bank in Colorado Springs. Castoro, start there. Do an extensive computer search on this guy. Find out who he is and what he does.”
“Okay.” Castoro’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Let’s start simple. Just what’s publicly available.” A few seconds passed. “Looks like Paterson’s an average Joe with a house and mortgage. Nothing too exciting. Now let’s wake up the feds and some IT security weenies. Hacking time.” He fired up some programs and responded to their prompts, gaining access to the restricted systems. “Here’s something interesting. He’s an IT guy. And his employer is the US Antidoping Agency.”
Blake swore again, turning his back to the group and glaring out the office window. “If he’s being paid off, it must be to relay advance information on event testing.”
“Yup,” Monty agreed. “That way whoever’s paying him will know which events need fixing. It’s a different kind of hands-on approach. Very clever. There’s no need for James to take drugs. Instead, he makes sure others take them, at just the right time and place. I’ll bet if we check, we’ll find a few of his closest competitors were disqualified for drug usage—even though they probably swore they never used.”
“If you’re right, then Wednesday’s accident at Wellington was rigged,” Blake said woodenly. “Which would fit your theory that James set up the whole extortion scheme.”
Monty nodded, turning his attention back to the accounting pages, this time with a new slant in mind.
“What’s this horse farm in Uruguay?” he asked, jabbing his finger at the page. “There was a payment made to them this week.”
“That’s one of the farms my grandfather deals with. They sell him sperm specimens to inseminate his mares.” Blake gave a baffled shrug. “But those are legitimate transactions. So why pay them from a secret account?”
“Additional business,” Jenkins muttered.
“Maybe conducted by an additional person,” Monty concurred. “Someone who’s paying off an illegal debt.”
“What kind of debt?” Blake demanded.
“I can’t answer that. But I’ll bet James can.”
Blake made a frustrated sound. “We’ve got to strong-arm the bank,” he pronounced. “We need confirmation of James’s connection to this account.”
“Don’t hold your breath. The bank won’t reveal that information.” Monty pursed his lips. “We’ll have to dig it up through another, more subtle source. A source who’s got immediate access and an emotional in with James.”
“Devon?”
“Yeah. Devon. My daughter’s going to be a busy girl tomorrow night.”
CHAPTER 22
The telephone woke Monty up.
He jumped to his feet, dropping the notebook he’d had on his lap onto the floor. Papers spilled everywhere, and he swore as he stepped over them to scoop up his office phone.
“Montgomery.”
“You sound worse than I do,” John Sherman informed him. “Once you solve this Pierson case, it’s time for a vacation.”
“Hell, yeah.” Monty rubbed his eyes, blinking as he glanced around the side of his house that served as his office. “What time is it?”
