“Did you explain to your parents why you wanted to stay here?” Gage asked.
“I just said that since you were continuing to pay my salary, I should try to do something for it.”
Gage glanced down at the chart. “What do you think?”
“They’re Arabic words all right. Naamah is ‘ostrich.’ Matar is ‘rain.’ ” Shakir smiled. “But I don’t think that’s the important thing.” He turned his laptop toward Gage. Centered on the screen was a picture of the night sky.
“They’re stars?” Gage asked.
“Exactly.”
Gage inspected the photo. “I’m not much into astronomy…”
“Pegasus. They’re the stars that make up the Pegasus constellation.”
Gage shook his head. “I should have guessed. It was Charlie’s only hobby.” He pointed at the list. “And the numbers?”
“It’s probably money. Seven point one million. Nine point six million.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because the first number below the column is the routing number for Citibank branches in New York City. And below that is the number for the Cayman Exchange Bank. It’s on their Web site. It uses that account at Citibank to accept dollar deposits from U.S.-based customers.”
Gage paused as the acronym floated around in his mind.
“CEB… CEB… hold on a second.”
He walked over to where Alex Z was working in the next room.
“You have Charlie’s spreadsheet handy?” Gage asked.
Alex Z reached for a stack of papers.
“No, on your computer.”
Alex Z leaned over and bounced his mouse around the screen.
“Show me the author information.”
A few mouse clicks.
“CEB, boss.”
“Cayman Exchange Bank.”
Gage was annoyed at himself for not catching on to it earlier, but then recalled that the bank was generally known in the trade as CXB and used that acronym as its logo.
Alex Z straightened up. “Why would a bank send a spreadsheet? Why didn’t they just mail out statements at the end of the month?”
“Because that’s what you get when you have a banker in your pocket.”
T en minutes later they had their first breakthrough in cracking the codes on Charlie Palmer’s spreadsheet.
“The second column isn’t money,” Alex Z said, pointing Shakir’s laptop screen. “They’re dates: July 1st, September 6th, October 12th, November 4th, like that. And they match what appear to be money transfers on the spreadsheet.”
Gage looked back and forth between the spreadsheet and the list of names.
“Maybe that means Meyer was tracking when the money arrived, or was supposed to arrive, and Charlie was doing the accounting. And the stars’ names are codes for whoever sent it.”
Alex Z scanned down the columns of figures. “But that only accounts for the money coming in, and we still don’t know where it’s from.”
“This is what I want you to do,” Gage said. “Go back as far as you can. Try to match all these names and dates to the cases Meyer handled as a lawyer and as a judge. And call Socorro and get whatever telephone bills she has. Maybe we can recreate what Charlie was doing from his call records.”
Gage paused and shook his head, thinking of the constellation and of Charlie and of how he’d spent his life.
“I think ultimately we’ll be turning from Greek mythology to Shakespeare,” Gage said.
“What do you mean?” Alex Z asked.
“The fault wasn’t in Charlie’s stars, it was in himself.” Gage looked over at the wall calendar. “And whatever that was, we’ve got to figure it out fast. A week before Charlie died he had an argument with Brandon about something that was going to happen soon.”
“You think the nine million dollars he took for himself figures in somehow?”
“One way or the other.”
“Then why aren’t they coming after it?”
“Probably because it might expose their scheme. But it’s only a matter of time. Then they’ll be coming after it, real hard.”
Gage headed toward the door. His final words told him he had a call to make. He reached for his cell phone as he started down the stairs to the street level.
“Is anything wrong?” Socorro asked.
“No,” Gage said. “But I was thinking maybe you and the kids need some time away.”
“Your timing is perfect. They have a break from school coming up, and we were talking about a trip together.”
“Would you like to stay at my father’s old ranch outside of Nogales?”
“That would be wonderful, but I thought you’d rented it out.”
“Just the land for grazing. The house has too many memories to let anyone live there.”
Chapter 57
Alex Z brought Shakir a cup of tea after Gage left and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You doing okay?” Alex Z asked.
“I guess.”
“You sort of faded out of the conversation.”
Shakir shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m in the right line of work.”
Alex Z pointed at the bandage on Shakir’s cheek covering the stitches. “Because…”
“No, not because of that. I could’ve just as easily been mugged walking down the street from my old job.”
“You mean you don’t like working for Graham?”
“It’s not that either. He treats everybody like an equal, never talks down, never snaps orders, never is afraid to admit he’s been mistaken about something. I don’t think I’ve ever had a job where my boss took me so seriously.”
“Then what?”
“I…” Shakir took a sip of his tea, then held the cup in front of his chest. “I don’t think I can do what he does.”
“What’s that?”
“Hover.”
Alex Z’s eyes fixed on Shakir. “What do you mean, hover?”
“At the Federal Trade Commission, at least in the section I worked in, things tended to be black and white. You could spot telemarketing fraud or false advertising at first sight. And even if you were puzzled by something, you could make a call or do some research, and get it figured out by the end of the day. It was like there was always a solid place to put your foot down. But here it’s not that way.”
“I get you.” Alex Z held his hand out, palm down, and rocked it. “It sometimes seems like Graham floats.” He lowered his arm. “I’ve seen him work on a case, everything going every which way, him in three countries in four days, back home and gone again a week later. And he’s e-mailing and texting and calling me. ‘Can you find out this?’ or ‘Can you find out that?’ Sometimes he spends months and months and months with everything in flux.” Alex grinned and raised his eyes skyward. “Then all of a sudden we’re standing on top of a mountain I didn’t even know we were climbing.”
