“Switzerland. Official reason: ‘Payment for specialized medical treatment and long-term care abroad.’”
Jack smirked. It was perfect. Medical treatment for a man who was about to “die.” A perfect cover for moving millions out of the country.
“Reed is listed as the director of a shell company,” Susan added. “His office is in the business center on Oak Street. Linda said the sales were done at a 30% discount just to get the cash fast. That’s ‘get out of town’ behavior.”
“Thanks, Sue. You have no idea how much this helps.”
“Be careful, Jack,” she warned. “Those guys play for keeps. They’ll bury you if you get in the way.”
“They already tried,” Jack said, heading for the door.
He had a lead. Victor Reed. The man who handled the money for Sterling’s fake death. But before he dealt with Reed, Jack had to handle “Uncle Joe.” He drove to a run-down boarding house on the edge of the industrial district. The building smelled of dampness and cheap booze.
He found room 42. He didn’t knock; he just pushed the door open. Inside, a bloated man with a week’s worth of stubble was passed out on a stained sofa. Empty bottles littered the table.
“Who the hell are you?” the man, Joe, slurred, trying to focus. “I already sold the radio. Get out.”
Jack stepped inside and closed the door. “I’m not here for the radio, Joe.” Jack leaned over him, his cane thudding on the floor. “I’m here for Paulie’s papers.”
Joe laughed. “The kid? You a relative? He’s a burden. I’m turning him over to the state next week. But I’m keeping his papers. I get a check for him. It pays for my ‘medicine.’”
Jack grabbed Joe by the collar and hauled him up. Bottles shattered on the floor.
“Listen to me. The boy isn’t coming back. You’re going to give me his birth certificate and sign a voluntary waiver of guardianship. If you ever come near him again, I’ll make sure the police find out exactly what happened to his mother’s jewelry.”
Joe turned pale. The alcohol fog cleared instantly.
“Fine! Take it!” he wheezed. “It’s in the dresser. Top drawer. Just leave me alone.”
Jack let him go. In the dresser, he found the birth certificate. At the bottom of the drawer was a small envelope. Inside was a photo of a young woman with a kind smile, holding a toddler Paulie. Jack tucked the photo into his inner pocket.
“If anyone asks, the boy is with relatives out of state,” Jack said, throwing two fifty-dollar bills on the table. “That’s for your silence. Drink yourself to death for all I care.”
Outside, Jack took a deep breath of the cold air. The first part was done. Now, they had to take down Victor Reed and find where Sterling was hiding.
Back at the apartment, Eleanor was making tea. Paulie was drawing on the back of some old medical forms. He drew a house with a chimney and three figures standing outside.
“Who are they, Paulie?” Eleanor asked.
“That’s you, Miss Eleanor. That’s me. And that’s Mr. Jack. So he can protect the house from the bad guys.”
The doorbell rang. Jack was there, looking cold but determined. He handed Eleanor the birth certificate.
“Joe won’t be a problem anymore.”
He also handed her the photo. “Keep this for him. For when he’s older.”
Eleanor’s fingers brushed Jack’s hand. The connection was brief but intense.
“Jack… have you eaten? I made a pot roast. Come in.”
“So, Victor Reed…” Eleanor stirred her tea. “He moved the money to a Swiss clinic. It’s brilliant. Under the guise of medical care, Sterling just laundered his exit money.”
“Exactly,” Jack said. “But Reed is in a high-security building. We can’t just walk in. We need a way to get his files without spooking him.”
Eleanor sat up straighter. Her doctor’s gaze returned. “We won’t go in as investigators. I’ll go in as a doctor. I still have my credentials, my white coat, and my portable EKG machine. Wealthy guys like Reed love private house calls. We’ll tell him his ‘late’ boss’s doctor is here for a follow-up on his own stress levels.”
“Eleanor, that’s dangerous,” Jack warned.
“I’m not playing, Jack. These people killed a woman and almost killed Steve. I’m going in. You’ll be my ‘assistant’ carrying the equipment. We just need a few minutes with his computer or his desk files. One account number is all we need for the feds.”
Jack looked at her and saw the steel in her eyes. She wasn’t just a doctor; she was a woman on a mission.
“Fine, Doc. Tomorrow morning. But if things go south, you run. Understand?”
Eleanor nodded. She knew she wouldn’t run. Not without him. Not without the truth.
