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Cooke wet his lips. “Just who are you?”
The other pocketed the folder. “What it says. And what Todd Plevin said, but only up to a point. It was my technical knowledge that turned Aspectus into a national concern. Without me, he’d be running a blog somewhere, maybe get a few thousand hits during his time off from some 7-Eleven. When we ended the association, I took my talents to Washington; they assigned me to the California office. I may not look it, but I’m a nerd for Uncle Sam, not a field agent. They don’t put that on the credentials.”
He turned toward Anne, and his tone changed. “I’m sorry I played rough. You made a monkey out of me, but I don’t have a cop’s instincts. I almost rooted for you when you left me standing in the middle of the street with my dick in my hand.”
“You got my license number,” Cooke said. “You knew when you ran it who I’m working for and that I didn’t steal the car.”
“I’m sorry about that, too,” Mapes said, returning his attention to him. “It was the only foolproof way to catch up with you.”
Anne’s body was still rigid, but she spoke evenly. “When did federal agents start kidnapping private citizens?”
A bitter smile touched his lips, then vanished. “It’s been going on longer than you’d think, but we won’t go into that.” He was still looking at Cooke. “I suppose Todd sang you his song of embezzlement, and how he forced me out in return for not prosecuting me.”
Cooke said nothing.
“There was some truth in it. I did siphon off money from the corporate fund, but that was to prevent him from blowing it all on a pipe dream. When the government changed in Venezuela, he wanted to buy up the Communist Party’s propaganda machine at a bargain price and expand his media empire into Latin America. I tried to talk him out of it—it was too risky, you never know when a foreign country will reverse itself and leave you—”
“—holding your dick.” Anne’s voice dripped venom.
“Damn straight. He wouldn’t listen, so I transferred seven hundred and fifty grand to my own account.
“The rest you know. Yes, I acted illegally, but it was in the best interest of the firm. Turned out I was right, too. Six months later, the Communists were back in charge and they nationalized all the industries that other American companies had bought during the country’s brief fling with capitalism. Had Aspectus been one of them, it would’ve been as dead as disco by the end of the year. Todd learned from their example and changed tactics, or he wouldn’t still be in business. But he never forgave me for going behind his back. I returned the money, which I hadn’t touched, and accepted his terms. Otherwise I’d never have been able to recover. For sure, the background check Washington made when I applied there would have turned up any legal action.”
Someone knocked on the door. Mapes cast them both an anxious glance, but he called out an invitation. The officer with the chevrons opened up. “Sorry, Agent Mapes. We need the room in a few minutes.”
“Give me five.”
The other nodded and drew the door shut.
Cooke said, “Well, you landed on your feet. So why grab Plevin’s wife and throw her into your trunk?”
Anne said, “You said you wanted Todd to pay to get me back.”
Mapes’s bottom teeth showed in a shark’s grin. “It saved time. You were busy trying to kick me in the nuts.” To Cooke: “Leverage, that’s why. How do you think Plevin’s managed to keep Aspectus afloat without me to guide it in the right direction?”
“You said yourself he changed his tactics.”
“Exactly. He abandoned wild speculation for something more solid. Oh, he probably has a twenty-first-century term for how he makes most of his money—say, ‘reverse PR professional.’ His clients pay him vast sums to keep their names out of the public eye.”
“What does that mean?” Cooke said.
“Blackmail. An old established enterprise too big to fail.”
PART 5
Exit
CHAPTER 19
MAPES STOOD. FROM that angle, his stocky build showed only a slight layer of fat over muscle. Plainly he didn’t spend all his time seated in front of a computer monitor. Cooke could easily picture him wrestling a struggling young woman in athletic condition into the trunk of a car, and he knew from observation that he hadn’t exaggerated about the fight she’d put up.
They remained in their chairs. “What now?” she said.
“We go for a ride.”
Cooke couldn’t resist it. “One way?”
“Round trip. My beef isn’t with either of you. You’re just security.”
