The Tainted Trust

  “How did he make this discovery?”

  “He found a photograph of my father and mother in my luggage. He wanted to know why I had a picture of Mike King. I told him I had kept the photograph because it was of my mother. When he…”

  “Excuse me,” Ullman interrupted. “Was it your mother?”

  Kerri nodded.

  “Please continue.”

  “When Louis asked me if I knew the man with her, I told him I didn’t. There was no way I wanted him to know. I thought he believed me, but evidently he didn’t. Then he found my birth certificate and went crazy. He hit me and started to rape me. He said he was going to kill me when he finished. I think it was his idea of sadistic closure.” Kerri lowered her head and covered her face with her hands. “You know the rest of the story,” she said as tears filled her eyes.

  Ullman nodded. “And the electric drill? Perhaps you could explain that.”

  “The lock on Louis’s briefcase was jammed. He used the drill to open it,” Kerri lied.

  “Were you aware of the contents of the briefcase?”

  “No.”

  “Did you touch any of the items in the briefcase?”

  “No,” she lied again.

  “Do you know why Alfred Schnieder was in your suite?”

  Kerri proceeded to tell Ullman the story of Schnieder’s arrival, of their argument and of the confrontation resulting in Schnieder’s murder.

  Ullman stood and extended his hand. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful. I regret to inform you that you will be detained in Monaco at least until we have completed a full investigation of this matter. We will return your passport once the investigation is completed and you are cleared. I have a car waiting outside. You will be driven back to the hotel. If you think of anything else you should have told me, please do not hesitate to call me.” He gave her his card, then locked his eyes on hers. “By the way, did you ever find the money?”

  Kerri shook her head. “Believe me, I tried. I searched through every inch of that suite. I couldn’t find a single thing to suggest Louis even had it.”

  Ullman smirked. “Hiding money is our national sport. Please come with me. I’ll take you to the car.”

  Ullman’s statement served as a powerful reminder to Kerri of what she still had to do. Even though Louis Visconti no longer stood between her and the money, her father still faced an enormous problem. She now knew where the stolen millions was, but she had to hide it before the police found it. Irrespective of how much remained, it represented the physical evidence the Feds needed to convict her father.

  Kerri entered the lobby of the hotel, looked around to make sure no one was watching her, then hurried to a pay telephone and called the operator. “I want to place a collect call to Mike King, in Ontario, Canada. She gave the number to the operator, then her heart pounded as she heard the phone to ring seven times.

  “I’m sorry,” the operator said. “There’s no answer at that number. Do you wish to try a different number?”

  “Yes. I’d like to place a collect call to Dan Turner, in Toronto.” She gave Turner’s number to the operator.

  Turner’s secretary accepted the charges, then transferred the call to Turner.

  “Kerri, I’m so glad you called,” Turner said. “I presume you tried to call your father.”

  “Yes. Is he still on the island?”

  “No… Unfortunately, he was arrested early this morning. Someone saw lights on the island last night and called the police. They checked out the lead and found your father. He’s been jailed and charged with obstructing justice. I hope to be able to get him out soon, but I’m going to have a little difficulty explaining his behavior. He left his car at Pearson Airport before he went to the island, presumably to make the police believe he had left the country. Of course they found it. That, together with Phillip’s latest statement, makes him look very guilty. In that connection, I’m scheduled to meet tomorrow morning with a heavy hitter from Ottawa. Doubtless he’ll have a team of lawyers and they’ll all be breathing fire. You have to understand that these people are convinced that your father knows exactly where the money is, and that he’s been hiding it since Jim Servito died. ”

  “Damn! So what do you think is going to happen?”

  “He’s in deep trouble, Kerri, and I’m running out of options. Unfortunately, he’s going to spend some time in prison.”

  “Is there any way I can talk to him privately?”

  “Only one. Through me.”

  “Then please give him a message. Both Louis Visconti and Alfred Schnieder are dead.”

  “What! How did that happen?”

  Kerri told Turner the story of her traumatic experience in the Hotel de Paris, and of her rescue of the cash and banking documents related to Visconti’s numbered account at the Banco Privata Svissera in Geneva.

  “That’s breathtaking!” Turner declared. “You certainly are your father’s daughter. I think you’re both genetically attracted to excitement. I’ll definitely give him your message, and I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear it. When will you be returning to New York?”

  “I don’t know. The police have my passport. I can’t leave until they’ve completed the investigation.”

  “Surely they don’t suspect you.”

  “I don’t know if they do or not. They didn’t say.”

  “Are you still at the Hotel de Paris?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay there. I’m going to have a lawyer from our Geneva office contact you. His name is Pierre Lambert. He’s one of the best criminal lawyers in Europe. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the importance of doing exactly as he says and keeping the location of the money a secret. Doing so is your father’s only hope. If the Feds find it, he’ll have none.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Keep your chin up, Kerri. We’re going to get you out of there.”

  “Thanks, Dan. There’s one more thing I want you to tell my father.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Before Louis died, he told me he had Philip killed.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that… If you don’t mind, I’d like to delay giving your father that message. At this point, I don’t think he needs any more bad news.”

  CHAPTER 97

  Monaco. September 21. 9:00 A.M.

  A brief but heavy rain had drenched the principality earlier that morning. The streets were still wet when Pierre Lambert eased his shiny black BMW to a stop in front of the Hotel de Paris. A young valet changed places with Lambert and whisked his car off to the parking area.

  Lambert, a sharp featured dark haired man in his early forties, hurried into the hotel and proceeded directly to Kerri’s suite. He knocked on the door, then fastened the middle button of the jacket to his dark blue suit and straightened his blue and yellow striped tie. He took a half a step backward when Kerri opened the door. “Hello,” he said, offering a polite smile and forcing himself to ignore the swelling and cuts near her mouth. “… Are you Kerri Pyper?”

  Kerri gave him a slow expressionless nod.

  “I’m Pierre Lambert. Dan Turner has asked me to represent you.”

  “Hi. Please come in,” Kerri said with a big smile, then opened the door wider. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until noon.”

  “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t expect to finish with the Monaco police so soon.”

  Kerri poured a black coffee for Lambert, then led him to the living room, anxious to hear what he had to say.

  “This is good coffee,” he said as he lifted the cup and took a second sip. “May I call you Kerri?”

  “Only if I can call you Pierre.”

  “It’s a deal,” Lambert said, leaning back and appearing relaxed. “With considerable difficulty, I was able to convince the police to allow me to review the contents of Louis Visconti’s briefcase. I want to discuss those with you shortly, but first I want to talk about what wasn’t in the briefcase. Dan Turner told me you removed
several items.”

  “Yes. A hundred thousand dollars in cash, some banking documents, share certificates, and a corporate seal.”

  “Where did you put those items?”

  “In a safety deposit box.”

  “Are you confident the police are unaware that you are in possession of those items?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think they suspect you’ve hidden something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When did you leave the hotel with them?”

  “Between the time I killed Louis and when I contacted the police.”

  “How much time elapsed between those two events?”

  “Less than two hours.”

  “Can we go to your safety deposit box? I’m not interested in the cash, but I want to see the banking documents as soon as possible. I’m sure you’re aware of their potential importance.”

  Kerri removed the documents from her cotton bag and handed them to Lambert. “I assumed you’d want to see them, so I picked them up earlier this morning.”

  “Smart girl,” Lambert quipped, then put on his spectacles and started to read. After no more than thirty seconds, he peered over the spectacles and smiled. “If the money is in the account specified here, you are an extremely wealthy woman.”

  “Why?”

  “One of the items in the briefcase was an agreement, signed by both you and Louis Visconti. It contains a reciprocal survivorship clause entitling you to one hundred percent of everything he owns, in the event of his death. There were no other conditions.” Lambert held up the banking documents. “These documents certify Louis Visconti’s ownership of a numbered account in the Banco Privata Svissera.”

  Kerri’s frown blossomed into a broad smile. “Are you telling me that I own all the money in that account?”

  Lambert nodded. “Aside from the fact that it makes you an accessory to theft and tax evasion, that’s what I’m telling you. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to access the account until we can get our hands on that agreement. That won’t be until the police have completed their investigation into the deaths of Louis Visconti and Alfred Schnieder. At the earliest, it could be weeks from…”

  “I have a duplicate copy.”

  “You do? Where?”

  “In New York. I left it with my lawyer.”

  “Wonderful. Please arrange to have him fax me a copy of it, I’ll get a death certificate for Louis Visconti. Then with that agreement, a directive from you, and a death certificate for Louis Visconti, I can access the account. In the event we find any money, what would you like me to do with it?”

  “Wire it to my boss in New York,” Kerri said, excited and overjoyed.

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “His name is Miles Dennis. He’s with a commodity brokerage company called Iacardi & Sons.” Kerri removed Dennis’s business card from her wallet and gave it to Lambert. “Here’s his address and telephone numbers. I’ll call him and tell him what we’re going to do.”

  “Do you trust Miles Dennis? You must understand that what you’re doing is extremely dangerous. If the Monaco police discover that you’ve removed anything from Visconti’s briefcase, you’ll be in serious trouble. In addition to what I said earlier, they’ll have reason to suspect you had a motive for killing Visconti.”

  “Of course I had a motive. I had to save my own life.”

  “That’s apparent, but I’m sure you understand the need for secrecy… Now, I asked you if you can trust Miles Dennis.”

  “Absolutely. Miles is completely aware of why I’m here and what my objectives are. There are no secrets between us.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll proceed as soon as I receive the fax from your lawyer.”

  “My lawyer is a she, Pierre. I’ll call her this afternoon. Do you have a business card?”

  Lambert gave her his card. “Now, as I said earlier in our discussion, I want to talk about the items in Visconti’s briefcase. Who opened it?”

  “I did. I used a drill.”

  “The same one you used to kill Visconti?”

  “Yes. Why did you ask?”

  “There’s an inconsistency in your story. Ullman said you told him it was Visconti who opened the briefcase.”

  “That’s right. I didn’t want to implicate myself.”

  “Did Louis ever use that drill for any purpose, whatsoever?”

  “No.”

  “Then we have a problem.”

  “What?”

  “The police won’t find Louis’s finger prints on the handle of the drill.”

  “Yes they will. I cleaned mine and covered the handle with his prints after he raped me.”

  “You’re very clever,” Lambert said, obviously relieved. “I’m very impressed by your ability to think clearly in such difficult conditions.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you know anything about a company called Forta Equitas?”

  “Yes. My father told me Visconti used all of the funds in the King’s trust to buy the shares of that company from himself. That’s why I took the corporate seal and share certificates out of Visconti’s briefcase. Why?”

  “It now belongs to you. In addition, you now own a house in Connecticut, an apartment in Manhattan, and what appears to be a substantial investment portfolio.”

  “That interests me, Pierre, because it might be useful in helping my father, but I know I can’t do that until I get out of Monaco.”

  “Getting you out of Monaco is the main reason I’m here. I want you to tell me the entire story of your relationship with Louis Visconti and Alfred Schnieder. Start from the beginning. Take your time and don’t leave anything out. I don’t care how insignificant or trivial you think it is.”

  “I don’t mind doing that, but why? Aside from hiding the money, and maybe being an accessory to theft and tax evasion, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You know that but no one else does. I suspect the police remain unconvinced of your innocence in the death of two men. Unless I can prove that to them, beyond a reasonable doubt, you could be convicted of murder. To convince them, I must know everything.”

  Kerri nodded, still shocked that she could in any way be considered responsible for what happened to Visconti and Schnieder. She exhaled, then began her story. She talked for an hour and a half, stopping only to answer Lambert’s questions, or to wait while he referred to his notes.

  Lambert gave Kerri a pensive stare. “I need to ask you one more question… Did you in any way plan to murder Louis Visconti?”

  “No! I’m not the slightest bit sorry he’s dead, but I never, ever planned to kill him.”

  “I believe you,” Lambert said with a generous grin. “You gave me the answer I assumed you would give me.” He stood, extended his hand, and gave Kerri a confident smile. “Leave the rest to me.”

  CHAPTER 98

  Toronto. Thursday, September 27. 9:00 A.M.

  “Give me your take on the confrontation in Monte Carlo last week,” John Hill said to his friend, Alex McDowell. Both had spent the night at Toronto’s King Edward Hotel and, by mutual agreement, had arrived for breakfast in the hotel’s breakfast nook, just off the main lobby.

  “Too early to break open the champagne. We still haven’t found a dime.”

  “True, but you’ve got to believe Mike King knows exactly where the money is.”

  “You bet your ass we do, and we’re going to put pressure on the courts to throw the book at him.”

  “You have enough to convict him?”

  “Yup. We found him hiding out on an island north of Toronto. He left his car at Pearson, an obvious attempt to mislead us. We’ve also got his stepson’s statement on tape. More than enough.”

  “You’ll be happy to know we’re pressuring the Monaco authorities to detain Visconti’s girlfriend as long as possible. Did you know she’s King’s daughter?”

  “Not until recently. Hell of a coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “It all fits, Alex. We
think King and his daughter were wrapped up in some kind of deal with Visconti and Schnieder.”

  “How do you explain the fact that all hell broke loose after ten years of silence?”

  “I won’t even try. King and his daughter have the answer, and the more pressure we put on them, the sooner they’re going to talk.”

  “How long can you keep King’s daughter in Monaco?”

  “I’ll let you know. We’re working through the back door on this one. Of course if they manage to convict her of murder, it’ll be academic.”

  “Do they think she’s guilty?”

  “They don’t know what to think. She really must have wanted Visconti dead. She put an electric drill bit through his brain. Maybe Schnieder wanted him dead also. It was his gun the police found at the scene.”

  “It’s absolutely amazing what people will do for money.”

  “Maybe both of us should take a good look in the mirror,” Hill replied.

  An hour later, Dan Turner ushered both Hill and McDowell into the ornate boardroom of Turner, Peterson, Greenwell and Worthy on the 65th floor of Toronto’s North American Bank Building. Coffee was served and the pleasantries were hurried.

  “Would you mind if I taped this meeting, gentlemen?” Turner asked.

  “We would,” McDowell replied. “This meeting is exploratory. We want it off the record. We’re here to negotiate, Mister Turner. As you know, we have your client behind bars, and we have every intention of keeping him there for a very long time. He’s clearly demonstrated that he’s a flight risk, so bail is out of the question.”

  “So what’s to negotiate?” Turner asked, aware that his guests held all of the cards, and that he held virtually none.

  “The money Jim Servito stole from our respective governments,” Hill replied. “We suspect your client knows where it is, and that he has access to it. His recent actions have made that quite clear. Furthermore, his step son’s statements have strongly supported our suspicion.”

  Turner decided to plunge with the use of a high risk tactic. He had nothing to lose. His weak bargaining position gave him no choice. “I’m not prepared to confirm nor deny that my client has, or has ever been aware of the location of the money Jim Servito stole from your respective governments, but for the sake of negotiation, suppose he was able to find it. How much would it take to free him, and for all the charges against him to be dropped?” he asked.