False Impression

“Sasha,” said Krantz, giving her a warm smile.

“Just let me know if you need anything, Sasha.”

“I will,” said Krantz.

Trying to relax when she couldn’t lean on her right shoulder meant that Krantz remained awake for most of the flight. She used the hours getting to know Nina, so that by the time they landed, the senior stewardess would unwittingly play a role in the most crucial part of her deception. By the time Krantz finally fell asleep, Nina had become her minder.

54

“WASN’T THERE ANYTHING on the film that would assist us?” asked Macy.

“Nothing,” replied Jack, as he looked across the desk at his boss. “Leapman had only been in the office long enough to photograph eight documents before Fenston’s unscheduled appearance.”

“And what do those eight documents tell us?” Macy demanded.

“Nothing we didn’t already know,” admitted Jack, as he opened a file in front of him. “Mainly contracts confirming that Fenston is still fleecing customers in different parts of the world, who are either naïve or greedy. But should any of them decide it would be in their best interests to sell their assets and clear the debt with Fenston Finance, I suspect that’s when we’ll end up with another body on our hands. No, my only hope is that the NYPD has gathered enough evidence to press charges in the Leapman case, because I still don’t have enough to slap a parking ticket on him.”

“It doesn’t help,” said Macy, “that when I spoke to my opposite number this morning, or to be more accurate he spoke to me, the first thing he wanted to know was did we have an FBI agent called Delaney, and if so, was he on the scene of the crime before his boys arrived.”

“What did you tell him?” asked Jack, trying not to smile.

“I’d look into the matter and call him back.” Macy paused. “But it might placate them a little if you were willing to trade some information,” he suggested.

“But I don’t think they have anything we aren’t already aware of,” responded Jack, “and they can’t be that optimistic about pressing charges while Leapman is still out for the count.”

“Any news from the hospital about his chances of recovery?” asked Macy.

“Not great,” admitted Jack. “While he was in Fenston’s office he suffered a stress stroke caused by high blood pressure. The medical term is aphasia.”

“Aphasia?”

“The part of Leapman’s brain that affects his speech has been irreparably damaged, so he can’t speak. Frankly, his doctor is describing him as a vegetable and warned me that the only decision the hospital will have to make is whether to pull the plug and let him die peacefully.”

“The NYPD tells me that Fenston is sitting solicitously by the patient’s bedside.”

“Then they’d better not leave them alone for more than a few moments,” said Jack, “because if they do, the doctors won’t need to make the decision as to who should pull the plug.”

“The police also want to know if you removed a camera from the crime scene.”

“It was FBI property.”

“Not if it was evidence in a criminal investigation, as you well know, Jack. Why don’t you send them a set of the photos Leapman took and try to be more cooperative in the future? Remind them that your father served twenty-six years with the force—that should do the trick.”

“But what do they have to offer in exchange?” asked Jack.

“A copy of a photograph with your name on the back. They want to know if it meant anything to you, because it sure didn’t to them, or me,” admitted Macy.

The supervisor pushed two prints across his desk and allowed Jack a few moments to consider them. The first was a picture of Fenston shaking hands with George W. Bush when he visited Ground Zero. Jack recalled the blown-up version that was hanging on the wall behind Fenston’s desk. He held up the picture and asked, “How come the NYPD has a copy of this?”

“They found it on Leapman’s desk. He was obviously going to hand it over to you yesterday evening, along with an explanation of what he’d written on the back.”

Jack looked at the second print and was considering the words, Delaney, this is all the evidence you need, when the phone on Macy’s desk buzzed.

He picked it up and listened. “Put him on,” said Macy, as he replaced the receiver and flicked a switch that would allow them both to follow the conversation. “It’s Tom Crasanti, calling from London,” said Macy. “Hi, Tom, it’s Dick Macy. Jack’s in the office with me. We were just discussing the Fenston case, because we’re still not making much headway.”

“That’s why I’m calling,” said Tom. “There’s been a development at this end, and the news is not good. We think Krantz has slipped into England.”

“That’s not possible,” said Jack. “How could she hope to get through passport control?”