24 August 2006
The sun dawned bright in a clear sky over the Columbia River announcing that by mid-afternoon it would be hotter than hell in the Tri Cities. I don't usually do field work, but my old friend Tyler Robinson asked me to come out from Seattle to audit the books at the sports arena. Tier two hockey and basketball teams share the arena and it is used for community events from concerts to car shows. I was out on the weekend as a favor to Tyler and finished the audit Saturday night.
A Figure Skating Competition was taking place on the small ice that weekend and I'd noticed the crowds watching the spinning and jumping girls. I was to meet Tyler at noon to give him the results of the audit, some with which I was pretty sure he wouldn't be pleased. I decided to go over early and watch some of the competition.
It was none of the stuff you see on television. There were a hundred Michele Kwan wannabes ranging in age from about 7 to 17. The intermediate, novice, and junior freeskates were on the event list for the morning along with a number of showcases. It would be a fun (and cool way to spend the morning). I settled in with a cup of coffee for warmth and enjoyed the show.
I don't know much about figure skating, but if I were a 12-year-old boy, I'd be all over that sport. I grant you its a tough sport, but it has limited competition. While there were over a hundred girls signed up to compete, there were less than 20 boys. No boys event had more than four competitors. You just about have to get a medal. But watching the events showed that the 5 to 1 ratio of girls to boys could also be something to skate for. The girls watched the boys events and screamed for their favorites (which were all of them) and greated them with hugs and kisses as they came off the ice. I saw a few boy-boy hugs and kisses as well. It seems that this is the place to be no matter which way you swing.
There was some fine skating and more than a few falls on the ice. You put together a hard slippery surface, sharp objects, and speed and it's a wonder any of those kids lived to see puberty. I yelled for every successful jump and gasped at every fall. I was totally into the ice mystique. The announcer called out a 15 minute intermission while they resurfaced the ice. It was nearly noon and I figured Tyler would be meeting me in the lobby soon. I turned to go find another cup of coffee as the zamboni drove onto the ice. I was nearly to the door when a single scream pierced the air. It was quickly followed by a chorus as parents and skaters stampeded for the exit. I turned and saw the zamboni halting half way across the ice. Behind it, a body was being dragged leaving a crimson stain on the ice behind it.
My friend Tyler had been well and truly iced.
I had 911 on the line on my cell phone before the zamboni had slid to a stop. By the time I made it to the ice my heart was pounding threateningly and I could already hear the sirens outside the building. They tried to stop me from walking out onto the ice, but I flashed my PI license and started shouting orders to line up the ice crew keep them from moving the body. Sometimes all you need to do is flash something that looks official and if people are confused enough they obey you whether they need to or not. I was lucky. Tyler was not.
I could tell without touching that he was dead. There's no way to survive a slashed throat like that. I shuffled across the ice toward the gate through which the zamboni had enter the rink. I was looking for a murder weapon and clutching at my chest where my heart was threatening to explode. My vision was blurring and I stumbled. I forced myself to take slow measured breaths. This is not where I'm going to die, I told myself. Breath, damn it!
I stumbled around a rolling toolbox and almost into my last chapter. A figure arose and slashed at me with a blade in a huge white fist. I ducked and heard it clang against the toolbox. I don't carry weapons, and I'm not a strong man, but I came up fast with both hands clenched into a hammer fist and caught him under the chin. My assailant went down hard and I fell on top of him.
The next thing I knew, I was being pulled off by men in blue and rolled onto a gurney. I opened my eyes to see that the man I fought so valiantly was a woman, and the bloody blade she swung was attached to a white figure skating boot. Tyler had been killed by a skate blade. She stared directly at me with a look of hatred that I hardly felt I deserved. But I knew from the audit who she must be. The skating director of the arena. The last desperate act of a cornered embezzler is to strike out at those who have discovered her.
Tyler paid the full price.
I got a discounted ticket.
A Figure Skating Competition was taking place on the small ice that weekend and I'd noticed the crowds watching the spinning and jumping girls. I was to meet Tyler at noon to give him the results of the audit, some with which I was pretty sure he wouldn't be pleased. I decided to go over early and watch some of the competition.
It was none of the stuff you see on television. There were a hundred Michele Kwan wannabes ranging in age from about 7 to 17. The intermediate, novice, and junior freeskates were on the event list for the morning along with a number of showcases. It would be a fun (and cool way to spend the morning). I settled in with a cup of coffee for warmth and enjoyed the show.
I don't know much about figure skating, but if I were a 12-year-old boy, I'd be all over that sport. I grant you its a tough sport, but it has limited competition. While there were over a hundred girls signed up to compete, there were less than 20 boys. No boys event had more than four competitors. You just about have to get a medal. But watching the events showed that the 5 to 1 ratio of girls to boys could also be something to skate for. The girls watched the boys events and screamed for their favorites (which were all of them) and greated them with hugs and kisses as they came off the ice. I saw a few boy-boy hugs and kisses as well. It seems that this is the place to be no matter which way you swing.
There was some fine skating and more than a few falls on the ice. You put together a hard slippery surface, sharp objects, and speed and it's a wonder any of those kids lived to see puberty. I yelled for every successful jump and gasped at every fall. I was totally into the ice mystique. The announcer called out a 15 minute intermission while they resurfaced the ice. It was nearly noon and I figured Tyler would be meeting me in the lobby soon. I turned to go find another cup of coffee as the zamboni drove onto the ice. I was nearly to the door when a single scream pierced the air. It was quickly followed by a chorus as parents and skaters stampeded for the exit. I turned and saw the zamboni halting half way across the ice. Behind it, a body was being dragged leaving a crimson stain on the ice behind it.
My friend Tyler had been well and truly iced.
I had 911 on the line on my cell phone before the zamboni had slid to a stop. By the time I made it to the ice my heart was pounding threateningly and I could already hear the sirens outside the building. They tried to stop me from walking out onto the ice, but I flashed my PI license and started shouting orders to line up the ice crew keep them from moving the body. Sometimes all you need to do is flash something that looks official and if people are confused enough they obey you whether they need to or not. I was lucky. Tyler was not.
I could tell without touching that he was dead. There's no way to survive a slashed throat like that. I shuffled across the ice toward the gate through which the zamboni had enter the rink. I was looking for a murder weapon and clutching at my chest where my heart was threatening to explode. My vision was blurring and I stumbled. I forced myself to take slow measured breaths. This is not where I'm going to die, I told myself. Breath, damn it!
I stumbled around a rolling toolbox and almost into my last chapter. A figure arose and slashed at me with a blade in a huge white fist. I ducked and heard it clang against the toolbox. I don't carry weapons, and I'm not a strong man, but I came up fast with both hands clenched into a hammer fist and caught him under the chin. My assailant went down hard and I fell on top of him.
The next thing I knew, I was being pulled off by men in blue and rolled onto a gurney. I opened my eyes to see that the man I fought so valiantly was a woman, and the bloody blade she swung was attached to a white figure skating boot. Tyler had been killed by a skate blade. She stared directly at me with a look of hatred that I hardly felt I deserved. But I knew from the audit who she must be. The skating director of the arena. The last desperate act of a cornered embezzler is to strike out at those who have discovered her.
Tyler paid the full price.
I got a discounted ticket.
- Wednesday, November 1: She’s a Man-Eater
- Brenda blows in
Dag is in his office when Brenda addresses him and he automatically rises to the occasion. She begins with condescending remarks about his office. - Maizie to the rescue
Maizie sticks her nose in the back of Brenda’s knee and she collapses into a chair. Small talk about what kind of dog is that? - Why are you here
Brenda explains that Simon’s instructions were that if anything happened to him she should come to Dag. Why? Because Dag could take Simon’s computer apart and save him. When did he say this? Within the past year. Simon has become more and more distant and secretive. - Identity theft
Dag explains the dangers of giving a person your computer. He will know everything there is to know about Simon, maybe about Brenda as well. Will Dag steal their identity? No, he likes who he is much better. - Riley rushes in
Brenda is snide about Dag’s little squeeze. Brenda would assume they were having sex even if Riley were a nun. Require a down payment for the computer forensics of $5,000, if field work is needed, there is a daily fee of $1000 plus expenses. Riley is given the check and told to cash it quick. - Invitation to dinner
Brenda tries to get Dag to take her out to dinner. That’s not included in the fees. Riley is surprised to find out Dag is taking her to Jazz Alley that night. - Thursday, November 2: I’ve got a secret
- Good morning Maizie
Dag gets up and walks to the office with Maizie. We learn that the walk is about the limit of what he can do. He stops for coffee and is given decaf. Mutters about Riley having gotten to them. - Dag and Riley plot the course
A lesson in forensics. Dag sends Riley to get information in more conventional ways about Brenda and Simon. Riley makes a snide remark about Brenda’s “muffin-top.” They list what they know and what questions they are trying to answer. - The Vault
With Riley off on her mission, Dag opens the vault and disassembles the computer. We get a tour of his secret chamber where he keeps his own server and valuable data. We find that he operates from a remote computer on a VPN. He begins to open the files on the computer. - Riley reports
Dag is so wrapped up in what he is doing that he fails to see the sun go down. Riley arrives back with her report. She makes suggestive comments to Dag who plays them down. He took her to Jazz Alley the night before to be rid of Brenda. Tonight he needs to get home. Riley takes Maizie for a walk and then takes Dag home. They finish by talking about money moving and Simon being in the middle of it. - Friday, November 3: Stocks & Blondes
- Waking up dreaming
Dag wakes up with a start thinking about money moving. He has been dreaming a fantasy when it took a turn and the date kept turning off with the message to deposit fifty more cents. He can’t shake the feeling that there is more to Simon being missing than a runaway husband. - Dissecting the inanimate
We find out that Dag names his computers and talks to them as though they are human, or in the same tones that he talks to Maizie. While he talks to a computer, Maizie covers her ears near the window. We emphasize again the big windows along the side of Dag’s office overlooking the water with a view of Rainier on a clear day. He starts looking for banking transactions and discovers frequent ATM withdrawals in the hundreds of dollars at a particular location. - An invitation
Dag describes Stocks and Blondes as a private club where money hangs out. He makes some calls and gets an invitation to join a member that evening. He is told to wear a tie and jacket and bring money. How much? $500 should do for an intro. - Tipping for information
Dag discovers that Stocks & Blondes is a private gentlemen’s club in which a number of young women work topless and for tips with less. While there are areas that cater to private dances, there are also areas where there is casual conversation between the men who have gathered and the women, or just among the men at bridge, poker, etc. Dag fishes for information and a girl suggests that he come back to talk to Angel tomorrow night. - Busted
Dag is on his way home when a car pulls up and a voice encourages him to get in. He finds his old friend Silas Grant in the car and they talk about money movement from Seattle. Silas asks what Dag is looking for and he says, missing person. Silas suggests that if the person went missing with several million dollars, he might also be interested in finding him. Dag says he’ll let him know. - Saturday, November 4: Angel in the Rough
- Maizie Day
When Dag gets up on Saturday, it is to the sound of Mrs. Prior, his landlady, knocking on the door calling for Maizie. It is late (8:00) and today is Maizie Day: She is being groomed. Mrs. Prior (an animal psychic) talks about how Maizie loves to get pretty. Dag lets her take Maizie and asks her to keep Maizie overnight as Dag expects to be back quite late. - At the Swedish Center
Dag goes to the Swedish American Center in Ballard to play cards in the afternoon and has dinner with old friends there. When the dancing starts at 9:00, Dag makes excuses and leaves to go back to Stocks & Bonds. He catches a cab. - At the Club
Dag is admitted on his guest pass (good for a weekend) and begins chatting up various girls as well as the men at the card tables. The girls come by each offering to take him for a private dance. When Angel shows up, he accepts. There is some banter between them during which he brings up Simon. Angel is cautious but won over. She asks him how much money he has. She gives $300 to the bartender and leaves with Dag. - Midnight coffee
Angel and Dag go to an all night café where they talk about Simon and where he might be. Angel is worried about him because he was her “special client” and he hasn’t been in for over a week. Dag finds out that Simon was taking the private jet to Singapore, but that he should have been back long before. When Dag leaves with Angel, someone yells, “not another one” and hits him over the head, knocking him out. He hears Angel scream as he loses consciousness. - I was fifty-five when I decided to become an acrobat
- The nouveau circus
Dag tells about how inspiring it is to see a cirque show. How he figures maybe it is not too late to get himself in super shape and fly like the acrobats fly. He goes off on a treatise about how he is not letting age get him down and that he will be the youngest old man at the health club. - Picking up a tail
Dag talks about why he was in Vegas for the geek convention (spy show). He meets Riley and finds out she has been set upon him by his old friends Silas Grant and Lars Anderson. Lars is Riley’s teacher. Dag typically meets Lars and Silas at the show for dinner. This time they bow out and send him out with Riley. - In the casino
Riley asks again if Dag wants to get lucky and when he expresses mock outrage she points at the roulette table and asks him to teach her to play. He tells her to bet her age and she puts a token on 28. After a look at her, she moves it to 27. He places his bet on 25. When it hits 25 they celebrate and as Dag turns from the table he has a heart attack and collapses. The last thing he remembers is having an aspirin stuffed in his mouth.
20 August 2006
According to "Information Technologies for Control of Money Laundering" a government publication, $1million in $20 bills weighs 111 pounds! In $5 bills, 444 pounds. That means in $100 bills it would weigh $22.2 pounds. Federal agencies estimate that as much as $300 billion is laundered annually, worldwide. Somewhere between $40 billion and $80 billion is drug profits made in the U.S. Most drug transactions are done in $5 and $20 bills. That means that somewhere between 2000 and 5000 tons of paper money has to be converted into other instruments ($100s, T-Bills, Cashier's checks, and wire transfers) every year in the U.S. alone!
The next piece I'm making up, but by my estimates, $1 million in $20 bills would take about four banker's boxes to fill. That means that we are talking about somewhere between 160,000 and 350,000 banker's boxes full of cash that have to be changed into other instruments each year. This is several semi truckloads! (I'll have to figure out how many later.) It is absolutely mind-boggling!
The next piece I'm making up, but by my estimates, $1 million in $20 bills would take about four banker's boxes to fill. That means that we are talking about somewhere between 160,000 and 350,000 banker's boxes full of cash that have to be changed into other instruments each year. This is several semi truckloads! (I'll have to figure out how many later.) It is absolutely mind-boggling!
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