Mitch sat next to him, facing the hall.
"You're clean. They followed you from the office to the parking lot, then left. Acklin's in the hall. Laney's around somewhere. Relax."
"I like the headband."
"Thanks."
"I see you got the message."
"Obviously. Real clever, McDeere. I'm sitting at my desk this afternoon, minding my own business, trying to work on something other than the Bendini case. I've got others, you know. And my secretary comes in and says there's a woman on the phone who wants to talk about a man named Marty Kozinski. I jump from my chair, grab the phone, and of course it's your girl. She says it's urgent, as always. So I say okay, let's talk. No, she don't play it. She makes me drop everything I'm doing, run over to the Peabody, go to the lounge - what's the name of it? Mallards - and have a seat. So I'm sitting there, thinking about how stupid this is because our phones are clean. Dammit, Mitch, I know our phones are clean. We can talk on our phones! I'm drinking coffee and the bartender walks over and asks if my name is Kozinski. Kozinski who? I ask. Just for fun. Since we're having a ball, right? Marty Kozinski, he says with a puzzled look on his face. I say yeah, that's me. I felt stupid, Mitch. And he says I have a call. I walk over to the bar, and it's your girl. Tolar's had a heart attack or something. And you'll be here around eleven. Real clever."
"Worked, didn't it?"
"Yeah, and it would work just as easily if she would talk to me on my phone in my office."
"I like it better my way. It's safer. Besides, it gets you out of the office."
"Damned right, it does. Me and three others."
"Look, Tarrance, we'll do it my way, okay? It's my neck on the line, not yours."
"Yeah, yeah. What the hell are you driving?"
"A rented Celebrity. Nice, huh?"
"What happened to the little black lawyer's car?"
"It had an insect problem. Full of bugs. I parked it at a mall Saturday night in Nashville and left the keys in it. Someone borrowed it. I love to sing, but I have a terrible voice. Ever since I could drive I've done my singing in the car, alone. But with the bugs and all, I was too embarrassed to sing. I just got tired of it."
Tarrance could not resist a smile. "That's pretty good, McDeere. Pretty good."
"You should've seen Oliver Lambert this morning when I walked in and laid the police report on his desk. He stuttered and stammered and told me how sorry he was. I acted like I was real sad. Insurance will cover it, so old Oliver says they'll get me another one. Then he says they'll go get me a rental car for the meantime. I told him I already had one. Got it in Nashville Saturday night. He didn't like this, because he knew it was insect-free. He calls the BMW dealer himself, while I'm standing there, to check on a new one for me. He asked me what color I wanted. I said I was tired of black and wanted a burgundy one with tan interior. I drove to the BMW place yesterday and looked around. I didn't see a burgundy of any model. He told the guy on the phone what I wanted, and then he tells him they don't have it. How about black, or navy, or gray, or red, or white? No, no, no, I want a burgundy one. They'll have to order it, he reports. Fine, I said. He hung up the phone and asked me if I was sure I couldn't use another color. Burgundy, I said. He wanted to argue, but realized it would seem foolish. So, for the first time in ten months, I can sing in my car."
"But a Celebrity. For a hotshot tax lawyer. That's got to hurt."
"I can deal with it."
Tarrance was still smiling, obviously impressed. "I wonder what the boys in the chop shop will do when they strip it down and find all those bugs."
"Probably sell it to a pawnshop as stereo equipment. How much was it worth?"
"Our boys said it was the best. Ten, fifteen thousand. I don't know. That's funny."
Two nurses walked by talking loudly. They turned a corner, and the hall was quiet. Acklin pretended to place another phone call.
"How's Tolar?" Tarrance asked.
"Superb. I hope my heart attack is as easy as his. He'll be here for a few days, then off for two months. Nothing serious."
"Can you get in his office?"
"Why should I? I've already copied everything in it."
Tarrance leaned closer and waited for more.
"No, I cannot get in his office. They've changed the locks on the third and fourth floors. And the basement."
"How do you know this?"
"The girl, Tarrance. In the last week, she's been in every office in the building, including the basement. She's checked every door, pulled on every drawer, looked in every closet. She's read mail, looked at files and rummaged through the garbage. There's not much garbage, really. The building has ten paper shredders in it. Four in the basement. Did you know that?"
Tarrance listened intently and did not move a muscle. "How did she - "
"Don't ask, Tarrance, because I won't tell you."
"She works there! She's a secretary or something. She's helping you from the inside."
Mitch shook his head in frustration. "Brilliant, Tarrance. She called you twice today. Once at about two-fifteen and then about an hour later. Now, how would a secretary make two calls to the FBI an hour apart?"
"Maybe she didn't work today. Maybe she called from home."
"You're wrong, Tarrance, and quit guessing. Don't waste time worrying about her. She works for me, and together we'll deliver the goods to you."
"What's in the basement?"
"One big room with twelve cubicles, twelve busy desks and a thousand file cabinets. Electronically wired file cabinets. I think it's the operations center for their money-laundering activities. On the walls of the cubicles, she noticed names and phone numbers of dozens of banks in the Caribbean. There's not much information lying around down there. They're very careful. There's a smaller room off to the side, heavily locked, and full of computers larger than refrigerators."
"Sounds like the place."
"It is, but forget it. There's no way to get the stuff out without alerting them. Impossible. I know of only one way to bring the goods out."
"Okay."
"A search warrant."
"Forget it. No probable cause."
"Listen to me, Tarrance. This is how it's gonna be, okay? I can't give you all the documents you want. But I can give you all you need. I have in my possession over ten thousand documents, and although I have not reviewed all of them, I've seen enough to know that if you had them, you could show them to a judge and get a search warrant for Front Street. You can take the records I have now and obtain indictments for maybe half. But the same documents will get your search warrant and, consequently, a truckload of indictments. There's no other way to do it."
Tarrance walked to the hall and looked around. Empty. He stretched his legs and walked to the Coke machine. He leaned on it and looked through the small window to the east. "Why only half?"
"Initially, only half. Plus a number of retired partners. Scattered through my documents are various names of partners who've set up the bogus Cayman companies with Morolto money. Those indictments will be easy. Once you have all the records, your conspiracy theory will fall in place and you can indict everyone."
"Where did you get the documents?"
"I got lucky. Very lucky. I sort of figured had more sense than to keep the Cayman bank records in this country. I had a hunch the records might be in the Caymans. Fortunately, I was right. We copied the documents in the Caymans."