Page 53 of Chasing Paradise

“It’s really not. I mean, sometimes I really enjoy bringing someone in. Wife-beaters, for example. But it’s just a job. It has nothing to do with my own morals. Given my family, I see a lot more gray in the world.”

To that, he nodded, then squeezed my hand harder as he came to a stop, pressing a finger to his lips.

We both stopped, not even breathing, trying to see if we heard anything other than the various wildlife around.

“Do you hear anything? Got a gut feeling or something?” Wick asked, and I liked how willing he was to trust my instincts.

“No. But I can’t imagine they just gave up.”

“Agreed.”

“Were we on private land or something? Or, like, is there some sort of illegal trade here that we happened upon? I mean, people were shooting at us for some reason, right?”

“I mean, yes, there is illegal trade in the rainforest. Animal trade, specifically. But, no, I don’t think it had anything to do with that.”

“Okay. What do you think it has to do with then?” To that, he shot me a long look. “Wait. Seriously? The eco-resort thing? Why would someone try to kill you over the bean?”

“The bean?” Wick asked, lips curving up.

“It looks like a bean.”

“Kind of does,” he agreed. “But, yeah, I think it has to do with the bean.”

“Why, though?”

“I think if I’d kept myself in the States, or gone anywhere else in the world, the company would have let this drop. They must have suspected or found out I was on my way down here to prove their fraud.”

“They’d kill you over, what, a couple of years in prison if the fraud falls on them instead of you?” White-collar crimes notoriously got slaps on the wrist. It was rare that anyone did serious time for things like stock market manipulation. They’d probably even go to a cushy low-security prison with cubicle housing and decent food where they could pick up some fun new hobbies.

“I think it’s deeper than the eco-resorts.”

“How so?”

“Where’s the money coming from?” he asked. “There are supposed to be a dozen of those beans bringing in a boatload of money. And thereismoney. So…”

“Where is the money coming from?” I filled in.

“Yeah.”

“You think they’re laundering money?”

“I honestly don’t know anything about that. But it’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s right out of the money laundering playbook. They might as well open a bunch of bars or strip clubs.” Wick shot me a blank look. “Money laundering either involves washing your money through high cash businesses, since it is easy to cook those books, because there is no paper trail for cash, or by integrating it into a business, financial institution, or in the stock market.”

To that, he nodded. “And who launders money through stocks?”

“Who doesn’t? I mean, you’re probably looking at more high-level crimes. Mafia or cartel involvement comes to mind. Did your grandfather ever have any shady connections?”

“Not that I’d ever seen. He always associated with stuffy old-money types.”

“What about your great uncle?”

“I honestly don’t know him well. What I do know is that the business was struggling enough at one point to need to bring a new investor in.”

“Bingo,” I said.

“He could be a legitimate investor.”

---