And he still needed to finish his preparations for his sixth victim. That was more urgent than ever. Once he was eliminated, it was all downhill.

Howard hummed to himself as he packed a duffel bag with a variety of odds and ends — rope, hardware, flashlights, a notebook computer and charger, a burner cell phone, a slim Jim and some other tools useful for liberating a car. Once finished, he looked around the drab little bedroom he had called home since the fire, then made his way to the front door, ready to pack the gear in his car.

He wouldn’t miss his life in the shabby little dwelling — the neighborhood was dangerous, the place was little better than slum housing, and there was no insulation, so in the winter he froze, and in the summer it was sweltering. But he paid bargain rent, which in his circumstances was its biggest appeal.

He only needed a little more time. A matter of days, if he hurried and the stars aligned. That was the story of his life — always needing just a little more time.

But the FBI visit signaled that for Howard time was running out.

The engine creaked over with a groan. He put the transmission into gear and pulled off to go car hunting.

He’d have to work fast.

Very fast.

Chapter 15

Sam pointed to an image on the overhead projector and traced a circle with his finger.

“Right there. See? Long hair in a ponytail, beard, knit cap, wire-rimmed glasses. Dark jacket, carrying a backpack. He next appears about six in the morning the following day.”

The gathered agents peered at the grainy profile frozen on the wall.

The image changed to one of the same man at a different angle. The time stamp showed it as six hours later.

Seth nodded. “It’s the same guy, all right. But there’s hardly proof of anything except he wears the same jacket both coming from and going home. Am I missing something?”

“Yes. What you’re missing is that a man who looks remarkably similar also appears on the cameras at one of the intersections near our latest victim. It looks like the same guy near both crime scenes.”

Sam pressed a button on the remote, and the footage changed again. This time the angle was from farther away. Everyone squinted at the figure making his way down the street.

“The time stamp puts it in the window for the broker’s killing.”

“Agreed. And do we have him leaving, as well?”

“No. That’s one of the problems with that area of the East Side. The coverage isn’t a hundred percent.”

“This guy looks different,” Silver pointed out. “The facial hair isn’t the same. And no cap. We don’t really get a shot of his face in this one, either. I don’t know, Sam. Truthfully, that could be almost anyone — the same man, or any of a quarter million other long-haired pedestrians in New York on any given day.”

“Is it my imagination,” Seth asked, “or does he seem to be deliberately turning away from the camera and holding his hand up to his face?”

“Hard to tell. Looks like he’s talking on a cell phone. Could be deliberate, or could just be the angle.”

Sam finished his presentation with some closing comments and turned on the lights, looking at Silver expectantly.

“Okay. It’s a long way from anything conclusive, Sam, but at least it’s a start. Let’s get the images blown up and see if we can do anything with image enhancement to improve the clarity. The low light isn’t our friend.”

“The cameras are optimized to get license plates and drivers’ faces. They aren’t intended for this. We just got lucky.”

“Noted. But this is the first crack in the case we’ve gotten, assuming that the second man is the same as the one in the first set. What about his clothes? They look completely different. I’m not trying to argue, but other than the fact both of these characters have long hair…do we have anything more?”

“He is wearing different clothes, but I think he moves the same. From the quality of the footage it’s impossible to be sure, but the similarities are significant,” Sam insisted.

Silver looked around the room and nodded at her assembled team.

“Fair enough. Let’s get the image circulated to all law enforcement in the area. Maybe we’ll get lucky and somebody will recognize him.”

“Do you want to go public with it?” Sam asked. “Get it on the news?”

“That seems premature, doesn’t it? I mean, we have him in the vicinity of the scenes, but last time I checked there was no law against being on the streets of New York, even if the timing and locations are highly suspect. I’ll ask Brett to take it up-channel, but my guess is that they shoot down going public with it for the time being. But that doesn’t mean we need to sleep on it. Let’s get it out and see if anything comes back within twenty-four hours. If we don’t get something then I’ll push to make it public.”

“Going public with it could also spook him and drive him underground,” Sam said. “We might never find him then. It’s a risk.”

“Agreed. I think we do as I suggested and take this up tomorrow.”

The meeting broke up, and a few of the agents congratulated Sam. It felt like it could be their first break in the case, and it was his diligence that had paid off. Silver approached him as he was leaving.

“How long will it take to get the images ready for circulation?”

“It’s getting late. I’d say let the techs have it for the rest of the day, and then we can get it out tomorrow morning.”

“Good work, Sam. Let me know when we’re ready to rock.”

“Will do.”

Late that afternoon, Silver and Richard sat in the conference room going over his notes on the last victim. He’d been on the line with Washington most of the day, and he’d had a chance to lean on his contacts to dig into the organized crime rumors surrounding the brokerage firm. As he laid out the information he’d gleaned, she was amazed at how seamy the financial industry was the more she learned about it. She’d had no idea — typically when she thought about white collar crime, she envisioned embezzling accountants or crooked CEOs cooking the books.

“What’s truly shocking is that there’s no investigation into this,” Richard said.

“How can that be? A tiny brokerage suddenly swells to where twenty percent of all U.S. market trading is going through it, at a time when the economy is collapsing and the largest banks are howling about being manipulated into the ground by predatory short selling…and nobody raises an eyebrow? It’s all just business as usual? Explain that to me. Because I don’t understand.”

“I know. I can’t believe it myself. I simply had no idea about this until I started looking into connections between this victim and the others. But as incredible as it sounds, that’s the case. This guy went from a boutique broker, really a nothing, to one of the most active houses in the world in a space of a few months — and virtually all of the trading was on the short side.”

“Why isn’t the SEC investigating? This isn’t a smoking gun. This is video footage of a killer holding an Uzi to his victim’s head and pulling the trigger. It’s a no-brainer…”

“I completely agree. But they aren’t doing squat. It’s been four years since the crash, and the statute of limitations will run out in another year…and nothing,” Richard complained. “For the record, I’ve rarely seen anything this cut and dried. But it’s like they’ve gone deaf, dumb and blind.”

“What about the DOJ? What about us? Can’t we do something? I mean the Bureau, not me, obviously. Financial Crimes? Your usual beat?”

“DOJ will only go after financial types after the SEC recommends prosecution. But if the SEC isn’t doing anything, then neither will the DOJ. Remember Masenkoff. He basically had to turn himself in and admit to running the biggest fraud in history before he got arrested. There was no action until he walked through the door with a ‘guilty’ sign around his neck, even though for years most players on Wall Street knew his results couldn’t possibly be

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