Gleason shrugged. “Xavier charges a lot for his services. And maybe there was a special project. I don’t know, it wasn’t my account.”
“And Zing,” Sonia said, “I haven’t found any films they’ve produced.”
“Again, not my client.”
Dean was surprised at how quickly Gleason went from shock over Jones’s murder to spending nearly an hour running through XCJ’s client list. He was someone to watch, closely.
“Thank you for your time,” Dean said, standing. Sonia looked irritated, but there was nothing else they could learn from Gleason. If he knew more, he wasn’t talking now. They’d have to bring him in to FBI headquarters or arrest him before they could pressure him to squeal. But Gleason definitely knew more than what he’d said. Dean would put two of his agents on Gleason, separate cars, to track him.
Dean’s theory that had nudged him earlier took on substantial weight. He just hoped he could prove it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sonia was eager to head down to Stockton and talk to the key people in Jones’s security offices, but Dean turned east on Business-80 instead of south on Highway 99.
“Wait, Stockton is the other way.”
“Didn’t Gleason rub you wrong? Aren’t you suspicious?”
“Hell yes, but we still have several people who work for XCJ Security to interview.”
“It’s nearly four, and with traffic we won’t make it to Stockton until after five.”
Sonia was frustrated. She’d wanted to talk to the security staff today since Vega technically worked out of that office. But Dean was right-it would be a lot of driving for nothing. “Gleason didn’t react how I expected when I showed him the text from Trace. He said all the right things, but …”
“I caught that, too.”
“You know the one thing that really stood out? When I dropped the big bomb about human trafficking. Gleason didn’t bat an eye. No shock or outrage or surprise.”
“He knew all along.”
“Or he’s been a player all along.” Sonia glanced over at Dean with a half-smile. “So we agree that Gleason is most likely part of Jones’s illegal operation?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t cry for his lawyer like you said.”
“I know. It’s been bugging me because he’s dirty. I feel it. But he’s also arrogant. Narcissists often balk at bringing in anyone to help them, even an attorney to protect their rights. I just assumed he was smarter than that.”
“Maybe he was feeling us out,” Sonia said, “trying to figure out what we know.”
“Perhaps. The only organization he pushed back on was Rio Diablo. I definitely want to look into them.”
“You started asking questions about Jones’s personal clients. What are your thoughts there? I thought we’d planned on focusing on Omega and the trucking company.”
“I think I figured out how Jones was laundering his money.”
“How?”
“I want to look at a couple files first to make sure I have it straight in my head.”
Sonia didn’t say anything. What’d happened to the trust Dean had preached over the last two days? That they should work together and share information? She’d never liked working with the FBI in the past, but she’d thought that this time was different. Dean Hooper was smart and focused-two attributes she appreciated-and they’d developed a rapport. But now it was just another mistrustful relationship, like all the other Fibbies she’d worked with before; suddenly, she was on a need-to-know basis.
“Sonia?”
“You don’t need me, do you?”
“Of course I do. Your knowledge about how human traffickers operate and the specific players under Jones is essential to proving-”
“But you don’t trust me with your theory?”
“It’s not that. I don’t have it all straight in my head yet.”
“Okay.”
They drove in silence. Commuter traffic was heavy and Sonia was trying not to be angry with Dean for his unwillingness to share his thoughts. But the slower the car moved, the higher her temper rose. Trust was a two- way street, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she been open with him about everything she knew? About Charlie breaking in? About what he said and how it might fit into their investigation. She was trying here, dammit, and she wished Dean would trust her-even if he ended up being wrong.
Maybe that was it. He didn’t like being wrong. He wanted to go over his files to be satisfied that he was right, then he’d share. Maybe that’s why his record was so strong, he didn’t jump to conclusions, but worked methodically to be assured that his assumptions were correct. Sonia reacted to situations immediately, relying on instinct and experience. Sometimes it ended up saving lives because she was quick on her feet. Other times she found herself having to backtrack and refocus. She couldn’t fault Dean for his diligence, just like he didn’t fault her when she jumped down his throat after he interfered with her stakeout the other night.
Five minutes-and one mile-had passed when Dean said, “You’re angry.”
“Yes, but I’m getting over it.” She glanced at him and saw a half-smile on his face. Her residual anger dissipated. Dean Hooper was too sexy to stay angry with for long, especially when he grinned.
Dean said, “Something Gleason said had me thinking. Before Gleason, XCJ Consulting was just Xavier Jones and a handful of clients, including Weber Trucking, Rio Diablo, and Omega Shipping. I know Jones’s current finances well, but I didn’t spend much time on his old finances because the statute of limitations for money laundering and racketeering is five years. I needed something current, so I only gave the older documents a cursory examination.”
She sensed he was taking a leap of faith by sharing his theory with her. He didn’t like brainstorming.
“When I saw the name Rio Diablo Rancherita on the list, and that they’d been clients of Jones since before Gleason, it set off some bells. Indian gaming is relatively new to California. There used to be a handful of casinos, now they’re breeding like rabbits. Las Vegas and Atlantic City have always been under our watch because of the opportunities for money laundering. It’s very easy to slide money into the casino and ‘clean’ it-the illegal money becomes profit for the casino owner, reportable and taxable, but still illegally obtained. They claim the cash came in through gambling losses, but in reality it came in through drugs or illegal prostitution or a host of other racketeering scams.”
Sonia asked, “But how do the criminals themselves profit? Are all casinos criminal enterprises?” She didn’t know much, if anything, about gambling.
“No, most are fairly clean, it’s better now than in the past. But there are many ways for criminals to use casinos-frankly, any businesses that have large cash flows are at risk, even if the owners are clean. There are two primary ways that the criminal element profits from casino action. When the casino owners themselves are part of the illegal activities, they wash their own money and don’t technically have to ‘pay’ anyone. They clean it, pay taxes on it as revenue, and they’re free and clear. The other way is for a criminal to go into a casino, exchange cash for chips, usually under ten thousand, gamble a little, then cash in those chips. Now the money is ‘clean.’ He’ll ask for a receipt for his ‘winnings’ and the casino has no way of tracking whether he won all the money or not. There are reporting thresholds that casinos are required by law to report, but just like running money through banks, the criminals know if they stay below the threshold they can run the scam indefinitely. And they will walk into multiple casinos with different players, washing tens of thousands of dollars all over town in a single night. We watch for the same people, have informants, and some owners are willing to work with us. Catching them is hard, but proving it is virtually impossible. That’s why it takes on average two years of intensive, full-time investigating to collect enough evidence for an arrest warrant, and ultimately, a conviction. We have to show the pattern. Two or four or six times and a good defense attorney can get the guy off. Thirty lucky days a year? A jury isn’t going to buy it. And of course we build our case with additional evidence, like known associates, lack of a stable job, living a lifestyle above
