and identified all the calls from company cell phones to other company cell phones, and from company cell phones to company landlines. Everything not on that list was a cell phone call to someone outside the company. That’s all in section three.”
“Long list,” Lavine said.
“Correct again. So we narrowed it down. First with a reverse directory. Then with Google. That took care of 95 percent of the numbers. My people called the rest. Said they were from the phone company, checking records, if anyone answered. They kept trying, or took the details off their voice mail greetings if no one picked up. Tedious work, but worth it. Take a look at what we found. That’s section four.”
“Six numbers,” Weston said. “With dates against five of them.”
“That shows when the last calls were made from Tungsten to those numbers. The dates don’t stand out?”
“They do to me,” I said.
“They should to all of you. They’re also the dates that Simon and the four Americans were killed.”
“They all received a call from the same cell phone the day they died,” Weston said.
“Correct.”
“From someone going after the money,” Weston said.
“Not necessarily.”
“It had to be,” Lavine said. “But who?”
“Don’t know. We only have the originating number, not a name. We called it, but no one answered.”
“Voice mail?” Lavine said. “Did you leave a message?”
“No. It didn’t go through to a mailbox.”
“What about the sixth number?” Weston said.
“There’s something about it…” Lavine said.
“It’s the only one we couldn’t account for. It received its last call from Tungsten the day after Simon’s, but before two of the Americans.”
“It’s James Mansell’s phone,” I said.
“I think so, too. It has to be. Which means…”
“Mansell’s dead as well,” I said.
“Oh, no,” Lavine said, standing up and striding toward the door. “It doesn’t. Stay there. Don’t move. There’s something I’ve got to show you.”
Lavine rummaged through the clutter on his desk for over a minute, then came back into the booth brandishing a blue Post-it note.
“Take a look at this,” he said.
It was the same number.
“Where did you get that?” Tanya said.
“In Raab’s paperwork,” Lavine said. “It’s the number of the guy he was planning to meet, Sunday night. When he was killed.”
“It was Mansell that Mike was due to meet?” Weston said. “No. How could that be?”
“Mansell must have survived the attacks on his buddies,” Tanya said. “Then tried to get help when he realized the trouble he was in.”
“Needing help, I understand,” I said. “But how on earth did he end up in touch with Raab?”
“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Lavine said. “It’s standard procedure. Mike’s team floods everywhere they work with flyers. They ask people to call a hotline. The calls are screened. Anyone genuine would have been passed up the chain.”
“All the way to Mike?” I said.
“Absolutely,” Lavine said. “Mike was a hands-on guy. He liked to judge for himself whether people were on the level.”
“It does fit,” Weston said. “We know Mike was meeting someone with a British accent, remember. That’s why the NYPD suspected you. One reason, anyway.”
“Then why meet in an alley?” I said. “Why not an office, or police station?”
“To keep the killer in play,” Lavine said. “In case he was watching. Mike didn’t want to scare him off.”
“So what went wrong?” Tanya said.
“Mansell must have arrived after Mike was already dead,” Lavine said.
“He would have seen what happened, and figured the Tungsten guy got there first,” Weston said. “The same guy who killed his buddies.”
“Then he would have run, figuring there was a leak from the bureau,” Lavine said. “He’d have thought, how else would the Tungsten guy know about his meeting with Raab?”
“That’s pretty much the same assumption we made,” Weston said.
“And it’s not impossible,” Lavine said. “Tungsten is hooked up with the DOD. Why not with the bureau, as well?”
“I’ll tell you something else it explains,” Weston said. “Why Mike didn’t put up a fight.”
“Right,” Lavine said. “That part never sat right with me. But now we know. When this guy from Lesley’s scam walked into the alley, Mike thought it was Mansell.”
“It explains a lot,” Weston said. “And it proves Mansell is alive. Or was, at least up to Sunday night.”
“Poor fellow,” Tanya said. “His friends are dead, he’s been scared off the bureau, and he thinks the guy from Tungsten is still after him.”
“The guy from Tungsten probably is still after him,” I said.
“Then we’ve got to find him,” Tanya said. “And stop him. Fast.”
“We need a warrant,” Weston said. “Then we can go back to Tungsten’s compound. Tear the place apart.”
“How long will that take?” I said.
“A day?” Lavine said. “A couple of days? We need to convince a judge. Which will be hard, since we can’t use any of this evidence. You poisoned the fruit, my friend.”
“We could be a little more direct,” I said.
“And what, break in?” Weston said.
“No,” I said. “We have Mansell’s number. We could use that.”
“I already tried,” Lavine said. “I called it as soon as we found it in Mike’s papers. There was no answer.”
“Same for us,” Tanya said. “That’s why we couldn’t identify it, remember?”
“Where did you call from?” I said.
“Here,” Lavine said.
“The consulate,” Tanya said.
“If you were Mansell, would you have answered those calls?”
“I guess not,” Lavine said. “I didn’t know what he was likely thinking, when we tried it.”
“So where should we call from?” Tanya said. “How do we make him answer?”
“We can’t,” Weston said. “Forget the phone.”
“We don’t call him,” I said. “We text him. From Tanya’s cell phone. Then he gets the message without having to answer.”
“My cell?” Tanya said. “Why? What do we say?”
“We tell him the truth,” I said. “He’s friends with your brother. You heard he’s in trouble. You want to help.”
“The truth,” Weston said. “That’ll work.”
Tanya sent the message. A minute passed. Two minutes. There was no response. Weston and Lavine exchanged glances. Tanya gazed at the floor.
“We should get started on the warrant,” Weston said.
“You’re right,” Lavine said, getting to his feet. “Sorry, guys. Worth a try. Come on, Kyle.”
Tanya stayed in the booth, with me.
“What now?” she said.
“We try again,” I said. “Put yourself in Mansell’s shoes. What’s he thinking? When he sees the message, what’s he afraid of?”
