Not a hardened criminal at all, Taylor thought. She was comfortable in the routine of whatever she did for Graf. The precautions of the burner phone and two call setup were almost certainly something mandated by Graf. She did them because she was told to, but she didn’t go one step beyond that. She hadn’t looked around at the cafe and had chosen a seat that left one direction unobserved, as opposed to keeping her back to the cafe itself so she could see anyone looking in at her.
She walked like a normal person, back to the office. No sense of urgency. No looking around for anyone following her. She was used to the trip to the cafe for her clandestine calls. Comfortable. Taylor was certain he was right, and she was a money person of some time. A professional feeling safe in the functions of their office. It’s easy for white-collar criminals to justify breaking the law. It’s just a piece of paper, they think. It wasn’t like they were holding a gun on anyone.
They followed her for two blocks to a tall office building, an awning stretching out onto the sidewalk. Taylor slowed down. This was the hard part. They couldn’t just walk in right behind her, get in the elevator with the woman, and follow her up. She might not be looking for threats, but even a civilian would notice that.
They needed her in the elevator before they went inside, assuming the woman didn’t work on the first floor. They’d have to find out what kind of people worked here and do research on them. It would probably extend how long they needed to stay in hiding since they’d have to independently find out who the woman was. Maybe they’d stake out the closest parking garage and building front, find out if she had a car and a license plate they could trace.
Taylor and Whitaker slowly walked towards the awning, giving the woman time. There wasn’t a doorman, which was good. They didn’t need someone paying attention to their snooping. Their luck continued when they got inside the building. There wasn’t a reception or security desk that some buildings have, with helpful guards taking down names and observing faces. There were also no ground floor offices.
Instead, there was a bank of five elevators in the middle of a polished but empty lobby, one facing the front door and the other four in pairs of two facing each other. On the side of the left-hand bank was a large black sign in a silver frame with white, stick-on letters helpfully telling them which businesses were on what floors.
Taylor’s luck held yet again. There were all kinds of businesses listed. Lawyers, an IT company, an employment placement company. On the fifth floor was a CPA, who happened to be the only company listed that had anything to do with money.
“We don’t know if she’s actually Graf’s money person. Even if she is, we don’t know if that’s her day job.”
“True, but I think that’s her. She could be one of the lawyers, but I don’t think so. Look at the calls. Calls from the trust followed by calls to Graf or calls from Graf followed by calls to the Trust. Think about the woman we were following. Unobservant living her life, comfortable in the world around her. A citizen. She isn’t a middle man for orders. She didn’t call Graf and say, ‘the Trust wants you to kill Fredrick Wissler’.”
“Why not. Maybe Graf wanted deniability.”
“Graf’s already doing enough that deniability wouldn’t matter. The Trust, on the other hand, would want deniability. The fewer people that know about the specific tasks they ask Graf to do, the better. No, orders would have been given to Graf by the Trust themselves. So why does Graf need to call this woman, and why would she then need to call the trust if it wasn’t for orders?”
“To take care of payments?”
“Yep. Reviving money from the Trust, laundering it, and passing it on to Graf. Not even a real crime, she’d probably rationalize to herself. The Trust is old money with lots of connections to powerful people. Graf is an upstanding member of law enforcement. She knows what she’s doing is illegal, but it’s one of those illegal things that someone like her could explain away as just getting around red tape.”
“A lawyer could still do all that.”
“Yeah, but I think it’s the CPA. Let's go upstairs and see. If we’re wrong, we can say sorry and excuse ourselves.”
“People talk. We might overplay our hands going into the wrong business.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think people talk to others in the same building that much. Plus, they’re not on the same floor. The CPA is on the floor with the IT people, who look to take up most of the floor. What else do we have? We’re here, let's go and see.”
Taylor headed to the elevators and pressed the up bottom. Whitaker followed, not precisely agreeing with his plan but not fighting it either. They were the only ones in the car as they rode up to the fifth floor, where the CPA was located.
In a very German way, the floor was logically laid out, making it easy to find the suite they were looking for. The office itself was small, a suite designed for a sole proprietor. The door from the hallway entered into a small waiting area with a receptionist. Next to her desk was a door that probably led to the banker's
