“The Naples organization, of which he is CEO, deals primarily in communication systems, with the main area handling off planet work. He’s known for his charitable work, particularly in the education sphere, and has strong political connections.”
She paused, ordered a second image on split screen. “His son, Dominic II, is the U.S. liaison to Delta Colony and is reputed to have aspirations for a higher office. Dominic II also happens to be old friends with Michel Gerade, the son of the French ambassador.”
She added the image of a man with lustrous waves of gold hair, a full-lipped mouth, and, in her opinion, a soft chin.
“On record,” she continued, “Naples is dingy, but unsoiled. There have been, in the past, some speculations, some questions, some minor investigations into activities of some of the arms of Naples Org, but nothing that stuck, or made a smear. My source, however, reports that Naples is, and has been, involved in various criminal activities. Illegals, smuggling, e-fraud, theft, extortion, and very likely murder. He’s also our most solid connection to Yost.”
She shifted images, ordered up a new set of triples on-screen. “These three men, Naples, Hinrick, and Gerade, met in Paris eight months ago, ostensibly to discuss plans for a multinational com system. Hinrick is a successful smuggler, and though his official record isn’t quite as clean as Naples, it passes. Winifred Cates acted as interpreter for these men during their meetings. This com system never developed, and Winifred Cates was murdered. Her case remains open, and she is listed as one of Sylvester Yost’s victims.”
She shifted images again. “Britt and Joseph Hague, deceased. Known smugglers. They were murdered six months ago, and are listed as victims of Yost’s. This has been confirmed by the recovery of two lengths of silver wire yesterday by the local authorities.
“Their bodies were found in Cornwall. Yost spent a few days in London prior to their deaths. Naples’s main base is now London. These smugglers are reputed to have trespassed on the turf of a bigger, more powerful organization. It’s suspected that they were hit to remove them from competition, and to make a point to others who might be tempted to infringe.”
She picked up her coffee. She’d had less than three hours of sleep and needed the jolt. “Three years ago in Paris, a female entertainer was beaten, raped, garroted with a silver wire. Monique Rue,” she continued as she brought the woman’s face on-screen. “Twenty-five, single, mixed-race female was found in an alleyway a few blocks from the club where she worked. She had been, according to statements made by friends and coworkers, involved in an affair with Michel Gerade. She was becoming dissatisfied with mistress status. Gerade, good friend of Dominic II, clung to his diplomatic status, and issued a single statement through a representative.”
Eve picked up the hard copy of the statement and read off the gist. “He and Miss Rue were friendly. He admired her talent. There had been no sexual relationship.” And tossed the paper down again.
“The French cops knew that was bullshit, or whatever the French word for bullshit is, but their hands were tied. In addition, Gerade had a solid alibi as he was vacationing with his wife on the Riviera when Rue was murdered. No direct link between Yost and Gerade was established.”
“Until now,” Feeney muttered under his breath.
“Lastly, we have Nigel Luca, and his sheet’s as long as my left leg. Weapons running primarily. Eight years ago he was beaten, raped, and found with a silver wire around his neck outside a dive in Seoul. My source reports that Luca was, at that time, employed by one Naples, Dominic J., and had likely been, as was his habit, doing a bit of skimming off the top.”
“It looks like Yost is one of Naples’s favorite toys,” Feeney put in. “How do we get him?”
“We need a hell of a lot more before we try to extradite. This guy is well protected. I can and will pass my data onto Interpol and onto Global.”
“You think they don’t have some of this?” Feeney asked.
“Yeah, I think they’ve got some of this, and aren’t sharing. I also think they haven’t clicked all the links. So we will. And meanwhile, we dig. I need EDD to push for more, to find every little thread that’s out there that may tie Naples to our man. My gut tells me Gerade is the weak link here, but we can’t touch the greasy little bastard. Same goes for Dominic II, but the second generation here doesn’t seem to be as smart, or as careful as the first. Sooner or later they’ll make the right mistake. Long goal is to be ready when they do. But unless they make it on our turf, it’s Interpol or Global.”
“We’ll set up flags in EDD. Anything comes through we’ll document it, and pass it on.”
“Good. All this applies to our current agenda in that it gives us a potential motive for the two killings under investigation.” She brought up the chart she’d worked out the night before.
“The Palace Hotel. Darlene French. Roarke. Magda Lane. The brownstone uptown. Jonah Talbot. Roarke. Magda Lane. The victim was involved in publication projects on Lane. The merchandise currently displayed, The Palace Hotel, and about to go on the block is potentially worth upwards of one billion. Naples is a thief with a widespread com network behind him. Hinrick is a smuggler with what is reputed to be one of the best transfer and transpo organizations. Gerade just strikes me as greedy.”
“It’s the greedy ones you gotta watch,” Feeney commented.
“Agreed. Speculation. What if the business in Paris between these three men had to do with a plan to heist the auction merchandise? Winifred sees or hears something off. She was a smart woman. She attempted to contact her friend in the FBI but was killed before that connection was made.”
“Why hire Yost to kill a couple of bystanders in New York?” McNab crossed his legs. It was the first sentence he’d uttered during the briefing. Across the room, Peabody remained silent. “You do somebody on the site you plan to hit, it’s going to beef up security.”
“But we’d be looking for a killer. Not a thief. Shake up the staff by killing one of them in a brutal fashion, right in a guest room. Frustrate security by sliding right through them. Takes the mind and energy off the auction, puts it elsewhere. Then you hit again. Where does the investigation center? On who might have some kind of vendetta against Roarke. That was the motive we focused on. But what if it’s not a vendetta. Or not that on the primary level. What if it’s just profit?”
“It’s got potential.” Feeney pursed his lips. “But why bring Gerade into the mix? I don’t see as he’s got anything to offer.”
Her smile was thin and sharp as she brought up her adjusted chart, one she’d finished compiling at three A.M. that morning. “Look who happens to be one of Dominic II’s and Gerade’s playmates. Vincent Lane, Magda’s son. They’ve been running around together since their early twenties.”
“Son of a bitch.” Feeney punched the uncharacteristically silent McNab on the shoulder. “Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, I got a nice thrill out of it, too,” Eve said and did her best to block out the deliberate way the young e-detective and her aide were ignoring each other. “Lane contributed to Dominic’s liaison campaign, and often visits Delta Colony. Both Dominic II and Gerade invested in Lane’s short-lived production company. Link by link,” Eve said, “I think we’ve got a real chain going here. To pull off a heist of this size and complexity, you need a man on the inside. Vince Lane’s as inside as they come.”
“He’s going to steal from his own mother.” Peabody spoke now, mildly outraged. “And kill to do it?”
“He’s a financial fuck-up,” Eve told her. “Over the years he’s put together and begun to put together dozens of schemes and projects. He’s pissed away his trust fund, run through the setup costs his mother gave him, twice, for businesses. He’s borrowed from her to pay off loans and I imagine a few spine-crackers, too. But for the past fourteen months, he’s been a very good boy, working for Mama. She pays him a ridiculous salary according to their financials, but he’s all but dead broke. His expenses go directly to Carlton Mince, her financial advisor. I intend to talk to him, and to Lane. Carefully. I don’t want Lane alerting anyone, Magda included, that I’m looking at him on this.”
She stopped, coming to attention when Whitney came in. She’d already sent a full update and all data to him earlier that morning.