The Brethren

Beech could think of three examples, and Yarber added a couple more for good measure.

"So who killed him?"

"There's a good chance he was just in the wrong part of town."

"Outside the Sheraton Hotel? I don't think so."

"Okay, what if Konyers iced him?"

"That's possible. Konyers somehow smoked out Trevor, learned he was the outside contact for Ricky. He put pressure on Trevor, threatened to nail him or whatever, and Trevor ran off to the Caribbean. Trevor didn't know Konyers was Aaron Lake."

"And Lake certainly has the money and power to track down a drunken lawyer."

"What about us? By now, Lake knows Ricky ain't Ricky, that Joe Roy here is the man, and that he has friends with him in prison."

"Question is, can he get to us?"

"I guess I'll find out first," Spicer said with a nervous laugh.

"And there's always the chance that Trevor was down there in Jamaica hanging around in the wrong part of town, probably drunk and trying to pick up a woman, and he got himself shot."

They all agreed on this, that Trevor was perfectly capable of getting himself killed.

May he rest in peace. But only if he didn't steal their money.

They scattered for an hour or so. Beech went to the track, to walk and think. Yarber was on the clock, twenty cents an hour trying to fix a computer in the chaplain's office. Spicer went to the library, where he found Mr. Argrow reading law books.

The law library was open, no appointments were necessary, but the unwritten rule was that you should at least ask one of the Brethren before using their books. Argrow was new, and obviously had not yet learned the rules. Spicer decided to give him a break.

They acknowledged each other with a nod, then Spicer got busy clearing tables and straightening books.

"Rumor has it you guys do legal work." Argrow said from across the room. No one else was present.

"You hear a lot of rumors around here."

"My case is on appeal."

"What happened at trial?"

"Jury nailed me on three counts of bank fraud, hiding money offshore, in the Bahamas. The judge gave me sixty months. I've served four. I'm not sure I'm go

"What court?"

"Virgin Islands. I worked for a big bank in Miami. Lots of drug money."

Argrow was glib and fast and very anxious to talk, and this irritated Spicer, but only slightly. The reference to the Bahamas had his attention.

"For some reason, I . developed a fascination for money laundering. I dealt with tens of millions every day, and it was intoxicating. I could move dirty money quicker than any banker in South Florida. Still can. But I made some bad friends, and bad choices."

"You admit you're guilty?"

"Sure."

"That puts you in the distinct minority around here."

"No, I was wrong, but I think the sentence was too harsh. Somebody said you guys can get some time knocked off"

Spicer was no longer concerned with the untidy tables and disorganized books. He took a chair nearby and had time to talk. "We can take a look at your papers," he said, as if he'd handled a thousand appeals.

You idiot, Argrow wanted to say. You dropped out of high school in the tenth grade, and stole a car when you were nineteen.Your father pulled some strings and got the charges dropped. You got yourself elected justice of the Peace by voting dead people and stuffing absentee ballots, and now you're stuck in a federal pen and trying to play the big shot.

And, Argtow conceded, you, Mr. Spicer, now have the power to bring down the next President of the United States.

"What will it cost?" Argrow asked.

"How much do .you have?" Spicer asked, just like a real lawyer.

"Not much."

"I thought you knew how to hide money offshore." "Oh, I do, believe me. And at one point I had a nice bundle, but I let it get away"

"So you can't pay anything?"

"Not much. Maybe a couple of thousand or so."

"What about your lawyer?"

"He got me convicted. I don't have enough to hire a new one."

Spicer pondered the situation for a moment. He realized he did indeed miss Trevor. Things had been much simpler when they had him on the outside collecting money. "You still got contacts in the Bahamas?"

"I have contacts all over the Caribbean. Why?"

"Because you'll have to wire the money. Cash is forbidden around here."

"You want me to wire two thousand dollars?"

"No. I want you to wire five thousand dollars. That's our minimum fee."

"Where's your bank?"

"In the Bahamas."

Argrow's eyes narrowed. His eyebrows pushed together, and while he was deep in thought so was Spicer. The minds were in the process of meeting.

"Why the Bahamas?" Argxow asked.

"Same reason you used the Bahamas."

Thoughts rattled around in both heads. "Lemme ask you something," Spicer said. "You said you could move dirty money quicker than anybody else."

Argrow nodded and said, "No problem."

"Can you still do it?"

"You mean, from in here?"

"Yes. From here."

Argrow laughed and shrugged as if nothing could be easier. "Sure. I still have some friends."

"Meet me here in an hour. I might have a deal for you."

An hour later, Argrow returned to the law library and found the three judges already in position, behind a table with papers and law books scattered about as if the Supreme Court of Florida were in session. Spicer introduced him to Beech and Yarber, and he took a seat across the table. No one else was present.

They talked for a moment about his appeal, and he was sufficiently vague on the details. His file was en route from the other prison, and they couldn't do much without it.

The appeal was a preliminary topic of conversation, and both sides of the table knew it.

"Mr. Spicer tells us you're an expert on moving dirty money," Beech said.

"I was until I got caught," Argrow said modestly. "I take it you have some."

"We have a little account offshore, money we've earned doing legal work and a few other things we can't be too open about. As you know, we can't charge for legal work:"

"But we do anyway," added Yarber. "And we get paid for it."

"How much is in the account?" Argrow asked, knowing yesterday's closing balance to the exact pe

"Let's wait on that," Spicer said. "There's a good chance the money may have disappeared."

Argrow let the words hang for a second, and managed to appear confused. "I'm sorry?" he said.

"We had a lawyer," Beech said slowly, each word measured. "He disappeared and he may have taken the money.

"I see. And this account is in a bank in the Bahamas?"

"It was. We're not sure if it still is."

"We doubt the money is still there." Yarber added.

"But we'd like to know for sure," Beech added.

"Which bank?" Argrow asked.

"Geneva Trust, in Nassau." Spicer answered, glancing at his colleagues.

Argrow .nodded smugly, as if he knew dark little dirty secrets about the bank.

"You know the bank?" Beech asked.

"Sure," he said, and let them hang for a long second.

"And?" Spicer said.

Argrow was overcome with smugness and insider knowledge, so he stood rather dramatically and walked around the small library for a moment, deep in thought, then moved closer to the table again. "Look, what do you guys want me to do? Let's cut to the chase."

The three looked at him, then at each other, and it was obvious they weren't sure of two things: (a) how much they trusted this man they'd just met, and (b) what they really wanted from him.

But they figured the money was gone anyway, so what was there to lose.Yarber said, "We're not too sophisticated when it comes to moving dirty money. That was not our original calling, you understand. Forgive our lack of knowledge, but is there any way to verify if the money is still where it once was?"