ColdScheme by Edita Petrick

you think Joe is right?” Ken asked, when we were in the
parking lot. It was crowded with police cars and official traffic.
    “You mean about Jeffries not knowing he had the device
implanted in his chest? It’s hard to believe but I suppose it’s possible.”
    “How can you not know?” He shook his head.
    “Joe will probably have a theory by tomorrow,” I suggested.
    “What about his other theory? Should we forget about the
motive and concentrate on finding this mad scientist?”
    “Well, we’ve established Brick’s motive was money laundering
but with Jeffries… What would they need a hotel waiter for?” I wondered.
    “It could be just like Tavistock said, a warning. By the
way, his executives lectured me about the man when I asked them. Didn’t I know
that he is the Chairman and the owner of the third largest private banking
institution in our country? His name is spoken with reverence. It rings in the
company of homegrown American royal lineages, such as the Vanderbilts, the
Morgans and the Kennedys. The man’s our President’s golf partner, for God’s
sake.”
    I could imagine Ken’s expression when the assistants had
lectured.
    “Someone who would use a human being to deliver a warning
like that would have to be warped, not just ruthless,” I said.
    “He wouldn’t be bothered by conscience,” he agreed with a
sigh.
    “If that device were improved and became explosive, he could
place the bomb next to the target. Neither victim would be aware of anything,”
I said softly, turning to look at him.
    He stared at me, with shock-widened eyes and whispered,
“Joe’s right. The motive is not important. We have to find these criminal
masterminds. Maybe Brick was a guinea pig. Maybe their real target was
Jeffries.”
    I didn’t think so. “Brick was implanted to set up money
laundering operations. That’s the motive. Jeffries was the alternate use—a
deadly messenger. Brick was controlled. Jeffries was used. He was not just a
warning. He was an example of what these people can do. They can target anyone,
implant them and then either control them or use them as a warning.” I paused
and shook my head. “Or, if they want to, they can just destroy them outright.”
    “It has to be a doctor or someone in the medical field,” he
murmured.
    “The research that went into the device is medical but the
application is terrorist.”
    “You said that foreign interests were trying to muscle in on
the Tavistock banking strongholds? Do you know who’s behind it?”
    I shrugged. “I read the papers. It’s an old story—foreign
interests, trying to muscle in on the US banking operations. There’s always
someone, offshore, looking for new ways to launder money in the US. The banking
system has many safeguards to track and discourage that kind of activity.”
    “Didn’t Brick write a smart program for a bank in Lima about
tracking tax shelters or something?”
    “It wasn’t the same as money laundering but it was in the
category. We’ll leave Creeslow for a while. We should visit the IMF tomorrow
and then see where Jeffries lived. Did you get anything on his family, friends,
girlfriends?”
    “He was another Brick. He didn’t even have a girlfriend.
There’s no family. The security guard, Amato, was his only friend.”
    “Maybe that’s a requirement. They pick people with no family
and few friends. I wonder if Jeffries had a part-time job?”
    “With an armored car service?”
    “Not necessarily. He wasn’t implanted to work for them. He
was a walking ghost, a deadly greeting card. I’d like to find out whether he
had ever been admitted to a medical institution, or worked in one. Your wife
could probably help us with this,” I said, averting my eyes.
    He cleared his throat. “Brenda wouldn’t have told Joe that.
He just leapt to a conclusion.”
    “He doesn’t leap to conclusions. He’s a medical examiner.
Are you going to ask her about it?”
    “No.”
    “That’s probably wise. I’d