then opened his wallet. “I saw they had begun work on the pool. When do they pour in the cement?”
“They’ll probably finish it today.”
“That’s good.” De Jersey paid for breakfast and left.
In East Hampton, he discussed property values with a real estate agent. They were eager to help: a property in such a prestigious area would sell quickly. Once development was complete, they assured him, they could start with an asking price of fifteen million. That sum, with the proceeds from the sale of Moreno’s apartment, meant that one small part of de Jersey’s, Wilcox’s, and Driscoll’s fortunes would be salvaged.
After returning his rental car, de Jersey ordered a taxi and went to pick up the Lexus, which he drove into Manhattan. With Moreno’s keys in his pocket, he was able to let himself into the apartment. Quickly, he packed most of Moreno’s clothes into suitcases and made appointments with three real estate agents to discuss selling the lease of the fully furnished apartment. He phoned the doorman to arrange transfer of the bags to the Lexus.
When the first agent arrived, de Jersey explained his asking price was way below the market value in order to ensure a fast sale. By the afternoon, thanks to the legally binding letters and the lease reversal with Moreno’s signature, a cash deal had been struck. Before he left the apartment, de Jersey unscrewed the back of Moreno’s computer and, producing an electric drill he’d found in a kitchen cabinet, drilled several holes through the hard drive. If he was unable to gain access to the files, he didn’t want anyone else to do so.
At 7:00 P.M., de Jersey parked the Lexus in the long-stay car park at JFK, leaving it unlocked with Moreno’s suitcases in full view, thus assuring their quick disappearance. At the Virgin Atlantic desk he used Philip Simmons’s passport and upgraded himself into first class. After boarding the plane, he changed into the courtesy tracksuit and slept for the entire flight. Once again, he spoke to no one. He was woken for breakfast shortly before landing.
After clearing customs at Heathrow, he returned to the men’s room, where he removed the wig and mustache, and combed his hair. He left the airport as Edward de Jersey.
He was home in time for New Year celebrations. He was confident it would be a long while before anyone started to ask questions about Moreno’s disappearance, and he was pretty sure that the body would never be found. The car would turn up, but it would be hard to prove that there had been foul play. It would be near impossible to trace de Jersey’s own movements in and out of New York. Once Moreno’s finances had been properly investigated, it would be surmised that he had done a runner.
The money from Moreno’s properties was a drop in the ocean compared to the losses the trio had suffered. But de Jersey calculated his share of the cash from the sale of the apartment alone would be enough to keep his estate running for the time being. It was almost a week since he’d left for New York, but in that time he had felt the adrenaline pumping, the old excitement at being on the wrong side of the law. It was a different enjoyment than his horses brought: more like the thrill of walking a tightrope. He was forced to use wits and cunning, and he liked that. He felt no regret for Moreno’s death. He was happy to use the accident to his advantage. The Colonel was back in business.
CHAPTER
5
T he New Year celebrations were over, and Wilcox and Driscoll were due to return to London, but de Jersey had still not formed a plan. He had been spending much of his time learning about the Internet, a vast world of which he had known so little.
After surfing the Web, he realized that his criminal expertise was outdated. A modern criminal needed only a computer and a modem to carry out a lucrative heist. He also realized that nothing was secure in cyberspace. De Jersey was intrigued by the way information could be
“They’ll probably finish it today.”
“That’s good.” De Jersey paid for breakfast and left.
In East Hampton, he discussed property values with a real estate agent. They were eager to help: a property in such a prestigious area would sell quickly. Once development was complete, they assured him, they could start with an asking price of fifteen million. That sum, with the proceeds from the sale of Moreno’s apartment, meant that one small part of de Jersey’s, Wilcox’s, and Driscoll’s fortunes would be salvaged.
After returning his rental car, de Jersey ordered a taxi and went to pick up the Lexus, which he drove into Manhattan. With Moreno’s keys in his pocket, he was able to let himself into the apartment. Quickly, he packed most of Moreno’s clothes into suitcases and made appointments with three real estate agents to discuss selling the lease of the fully furnished apartment. He phoned the doorman to arrange transfer of the bags to the Lexus.
When the first agent arrived, de Jersey explained his asking price was way below the market value in order to ensure a fast sale. By the afternoon, thanks to the legally binding letters and the lease reversal with Moreno’s signature, a cash deal had been struck. Before he left the apartment, de Jersey unscrewed the back of Moreno’s computer and, producing an electric drill he’d found in a kitchen cabinet, drilled several holes through the hard drive. If he was unable to gain access to the files, he didn’t want anyone else to do so.
At 7:00 P.M., de Jersey parked the Lexus in the long-stay car park at JFK, leaving it unlocked with Moreno’s suitcases in full view, thus assuring their quick disappearance. At the Virgin Atlantic desk he used Philip Simmons’s passport and upgraded himself into first class. After boarding the plane, he changed into the courtesy tracksuit and slept for the entire flight. Once again, he spoke to no one. He was woken for breakfast shortly before landing.
After clearing customs at Heathrow, he returned to the men’s room, where he removed the wig and mustache, and combed his hair. He left the airport as Edward de Jersey.
He was home in time for New Year celebrations. He was confident it would be a long while before anyone started to ask questions about Moreno’s disappearance, and he was pretty sure that the body would never be found. The car would turn up, but it would be hard to prove that there had been foul play. It would be near impossible to trace de Jersey’s own movements in and out of New York. Once Moreno’s finances had been properly investigated, it would be surmised that he had done a runner.
The money from Moreno’s properties was a drop in the ocean compared to the losses the trio had suffered. But de Jersey calculated his share of the cash from the sale of the apartment alone would be enough to keep his estate running for the time being. It was almost a week since he’d left for New York, but in that time he had felt the adrenaline pumping, the old excitement at being on the wrong side of the law. It was a different enjoyment than his horses brought: more like the thrill of walking a tightrope. He was forced to use wits and cunning, and he liked that. He felt no regret for Moreno’s death. He was happy to use the accident to his advantage. The Colonel was back in business.
CHAPTER
5
T he New Year celebrations were over, and Wilcox and Driscoll were due to return to London, but de Jersey had still not formed a plan. He had been spending much of his time learning about the Internet, a vast world of which he had known so little.
After surfing the Web, he realized that his criminal expertise was outdated. A modern criminal needed only a computer and a modem to carry out a lucrative heist. He also realized that nothing was secure in cyberspace. De Jersey was intrigued by the way information could be
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