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“That’s really impressive.” Tyler thought a moment. “If the arms are so much heavier, the motor that lifts them will have to be more powerful. It would mean changing our existing motors and buying new ones. I’m not sure homeowner associations-”

“I was thinking of businesses and the military installations around here, not gated communities.”

“Doesn’t the military have their own contractors?”

“Yes, but a lot of them have been diverted to Iraq. There’s a serious shortage here,” Adam replied. “I think we should start with bollards.”

“What are they?”

“Knee-high cement posts that prevent cars or trucks from driving too close to buildings. There’s a new type that can be temporarily removed if someone needs to access the building to move in or out or install large pieces of furniture or equipment.”

“Okay. I know what you mean now.”

“I’m going to start right away by getting us certified and arranging for security clearances. Could we use your father for a reference?”

Tyler cleared his throat, then replied, “I’m sure he’ll agree. We actually had breakfast together, and he mentioned your uncle. I guess they met in Istanbul sometime last year. My father put some of his business info on your uncle’s computer because his wasn’t working. He’d like to retrieve it, but I told him the computer had been stolen. Any chance there’s a backup disc somewhere?”

“I doubt it. I’ve been checking all the software the burglars left behind. There isn’t much. What they did leave seems to be just discs for software installed on the computer like QuickBooks and Excel.”

“Could you keep looking?”

Tyler sounded a little anxious. Adam knew his friend’s relationship with his father wasn’t very good. Obviously Quinten Foley must be upset about the theft and pressuring his son. “Sure. I should finish going through his office tonight-” he thought about Whitney “-or tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”

“Great. I’ll-”

The buzzer on Adam’s phone interrupted them. He picked up the receiver.

“There’s a Max Deaver here to see you,” Sherry told him. “He says it’s important.”

“Thanks. Send him in.” Adam hung up. “I’ve got to talk to this guy. Let’s touch base tomorrow.”

Tyler nodded and left without another word. The forensic accountant hired by the attorney handling Calvin Hunter’s estate entered Adam’s office as soon as Tyler left.

“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I have a client in the Halstrom Building next door.”

“Not at all.” Adam waved Deaver to the seat Tyler had just vacated. “What’s up?”

Deaver sat down, his expression grave. “I’m still chasing your uncle’s offshore accounts all over the place. It’s a first-rate shell game. Best I’ve seen since I’ve been in the business. He might have had a pro help him.”

“Really?”

“It’s very likely. Most guys who show dogs wouldn’t-”

“Remember, my uncle was in military intelligence before he retired. He might have learned these maneuvers in the service.”

“It’s possible.” Deaver shifted in the chair. “That’s not what’s bothering me. Yesterday, twenty-five thousand dollars was withdrawn from one of his offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands that I did manage to locate.”

“How could that happen? I thought you needed the account number and a password.”

“You’re right. That’s exactly what’s necessary. Someone knows about this account. Whoever it is has his special password, too.” Deaver leaned forward slightly and his tone became even more serious. “As far as I can tell, that Cayman account is the end point of the shell game. It was harder than hell to find. Your uncle deliberately shifted all his money around and around so that it would be nearly impossible to discover where it was.”

“Yet someone has found it.”

Adam stared out his window at the ocean in the distance. The late-afternoon light reflected off of it like a mile-long mirror. “I can’t find any of his account numbers. They don’t seem to be listed on anything in the house. Of course, it was burglarized. The account numbers and passwords might be on his stolen computer.”

“Could be, but it wouldn’t be a very smart move for a man in the intelligence field. People tend to write down passwords and hide them. With an estate this large and complicated, the access numbers might be in code or something.”

“Whoever withdrew the money knew exactly where it was.”

“That’s the only explanation, and if they were testing, as I suspect, they now realize the password is correct.”

“Is there anything I can do to stop that person from withdrawing any more money?”

“You could contact the bank. As heir to his estate, they might put a hold on the account, but it’s unlikely. Secret accounts often have partners who wish to remain anonymous. Banking establishments honor those relationships.”

Adam thought for a moment. “It seems to me that I read somewhere that secret partners in Swiss accounts are often terrorist groups.”

“Exactly. Legitimate organizations or individuals deposit money in Swiss accounts, then funds are withdrawn by God-only-knows-who. That’s why the Swiss have come under such scrutiny. Going into this, I doubted your uncle’s money would be in Switzerland. Too many prying eyes. He moved his cash from there to several other banks in the Maldives and Panama. They aren’t as closely watched by the Feds looking for the sources of terrorists’ funds.”

Adam thanked Deaver for his time and the forensic accountant left. Uncle Calvin had been a very secretive man. Adam couldn’t imagine him trusting anyone with such important information. The code must have been on his stolen computer. The thief or thieves had been after the code. It certainly explained why nothing else had been taken from the house.

Adam decided to talk to Quinten Foley. He might know something that would help. If not, whoever had the code could drain his uncle’s remaining assets. Then Adam would be left with his uncle’s bills and little money to pay them. He would run out of money in no time.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHITNEY CHECKED HER cell phone, then put it back in her pocket. She told Adam, “I’ve never tried call forwarding before.”

“Trust me. It works. I use it all the time.”

They were on Adam’s patio watching the sun set. Adam had phoned on his way home from work. He’d bought steaks to grill and ingredients for a salad.

“A prospective client called earlier to make sure I was going to be home this evening to discuss taking care of her dog. This will be the first client that I’ve gotten on my own.”

Adam finished lighting the grill and turned back to her. “What kind of dog?”

“A poodle. I think the owner is a foreigner. She said Fiona was a poo-dell.”

“Large or small?” Adam poured them each a glass of pinot noir.

“I didn’t ask. I assume small because you see so many of them, but it could be a standard poodle. She must have gotten my name from a client, but she didn’t say who.”

“Did you see an attorney?”

Adam’s tone sounded a little guarded. She wondered if he might be reluctant to pressure her. “Yes. Broderick Babcock is looking over the papers.”

“You saw Babcock himself? What about the honeymoon?”

She sighed. “There wasn’t one. Miranda made it all up.”

His eyes flared in disbelief, then narrowed while Whitney explained exactly what had happened at the attorney’s office.

“Babcock didn’t even know your cousin?”

Whitney shook her head. “I guess Miranda read about him or saw him on television. He’s a local celebrity.”

“Yeah, probably,” he replied, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“I wonder where she’s gone,” Whitney said. “Maybe something happened to her. Miranda might be in danger-”

“When people disappear like that they’re usually running from something or someone.”