Page 112 of One Minute Out

“He’s in Amsterdam, which, coincidentally, is only an hour or so from my office and home in The Hague. His name is Maarten Meyer. We’ve been watching him for a while. He used to work in private banking for ING Group, a Dutch multinational, but he was caught embezzling. They fired him but did not prosecute him—they thought they’d lose private clients if they made too much noise about it.”

“If they didn’t prosecute, how do you even know about him?”

“We only learned of this after he was suspected by Dutch authorities of data theft at ABN AMRO, another large bank in Amsterdam. He was interviewed, he was suspected, but again, he was not prosecuted. There was some question at Europol about whether he was paying off high officials. We never found out, but the investigation into him continues. Interpol is looking into some data thefts in Antigua and Barbuda, and some others in the Caymans. He is highly skilled at picking the cyber locks of banks.”

“You think he could get into the bank transfer records you need to identify where the money is coming from?”

Talyssa nods. “I know he can.”

I lift up my phone and change my GPS destination. “Here’s what I need—”

“You want to go find him, and beat him up until he agrees to do what we need.”

“No. Finding out who runs the Consortium might save Roxana, but it won’t save the girls we’ve been chasing. I have to go to Venice to try to find out where they are being sent.”

She’s confused. “So...”

“So,” I say, “I need you to go to Amsterdam to convince Maarten Meyer to work with us.”

“But... even if I could get him to do the hack, that’s totally illegal.”

“I hate to break it to you, Talyssa, but the ‘doing things by the book’ ship sailed a long time ago. You’re pretty much an international criminal already.”

She says nothing, so I finish my thought. “If there is some way to find out that intel, even if it’s illegal, we probably should be considering it.”

Slowly she nods. “But... how do I convince him to help us?”

“Tell him he’s under investigation. Tell him you’ll tip him off to a raid when it comes if he does what you want him to. Tell him you’ll destroy evidence to help his case. Tell him anything to get him on board with us.”

“But I... I can’t do any of those things.”

“You don’t have to do anything, you just have to say you’ll do something to help him.”

“What, then we just fuck him over?”

“Pretty much. Look, think about your sister.”

Now she looks at me with hard narrow eyes. “Think about my sister? That’s all I am doing! I can’t think about anything else at all other than what has happened to her, and what will happen to her if I can’t get her back! Don’t tell me to think about my sister!”

“I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I just need you to start breaking some dishes here. I need you to go to Amsterdam and convince Maarten Meyer to help us find the money launderers. If I could do it myself I’d put that guy’s nuts in a vise and start flaying him, but I have to stay here.”

“I am not going to put his nuts in a—”

“You won’t have to. You just need to use what you have to get his compliance, and that is information about the international warrant being prepared against him.”

I can see she’s still pissed at me, but slowly she begins to calm down. “I can do that.”

“I know you can. We’ll go to the airport, and then you’re going to Amsterdam.”

THIRTY-THREE

La Primarosa made good speed for Venice, arriving just after eight a.m. Jaco Verdoorn was all but in command on the vessel now; the captain did little more than drive the boat while the big South African organized the quick and efficient disembarkation of the product. He knew he had to get all the merchandise along with all the evidence off in case the Gray Man had resources to have the yacht boarded. The Consortium controlled a portion of local law enforcement here, but it certainly didn’t control all law enforcement, so there was a definite threat as long as the yacht was in the area.

By noon Verdoorn had removed his people from this potential compromise, relocating all twenty-three pieces of merchandise shipped on La Primarosa to a large private residence in Venice proper, on the Rio della Sensa, a canal on the northern side of the city. The impromptu safe house building was run by the Mala del Brenta, one of the local mafia groups here in northern Italy, and now all items were sequestered in several rooms on the second and third floors while armed Italians guarded them.

As was always the case on market days, the women and girls were well fed and given plenty of time to bathe. Clothing was brought in by stylists, hair and makeup would begin at five p.m., and Dr. Riesling spent the entire day speaking with each one of them privately, checking their mental state for what was to come.

Jaco Verdoorn established a secondary security cordon around the building, positioning most of his White Lion men in the streets and along the canals, eyes open for any hint of Courtland Gentry.

---