Blood Money Page 2

  Thurston wore a double-breasted navy blue pin stripe suit, a pale blue shirt and a colorful Borrelli tie. His weight was well proportioned on his tall frame. Peter Thurston had a commanding presence, but that was not entirely because of his appearance. It was something else, something that came from deep inside.

  As he sat down, he said, “Mark, before we get started, I need to set down some ground rules for this assignment. These are non-negotiable.”

  There’s that feeling again. Why do I feel so uncomfortable?

  There was no introduction. Thurston just started the meeting. His look was stern as he continued, “There are to be no recordings or paper files in your records that connect me with the subject we are to discuss today.” Thurston’s gaze was very penetrating. It grabbed Mark’s full attention. “Just log your time as consulting for Thurston Electronics,” he continued. “No other specifics. Is that understood?”

  Is it me? Mark thought. Am I just overawed by being here?

  “Yes, sir, it is. Although I will admit that it is a little unusual. But however you want to handle our business together is fine with me.”

  “I think you will understand when I give you all the details,” he said, a bit more softly this time. He leaned back in his chair. He seemed to be measuring his words. “I contacted you because my connections in Washington tell me you have certain skills that I am in need of. I’ve also been assured that you can be trusted.” He noticed that Mark wanted to speak. “Please do me the courtesy of holding your questions until I’m finished. I’m sure you’ll see where this is going in just a few minutes. It is important that you see the big picture.” He leaned forward, opened the top left hand drawer of the desk, took out a red folder and handed it to Mark.

  “We’re going to be discussing possible corruption at a corporation that collects and distributes rare blood. I sit on the Board of this corporation as one of twelve outside directors. I also happen to have one of those rare blood types, AB-Negative, which is originally how I got involved with them. It’s all spelled out in the reports in that file. I need you to become familiar with them before we go any further. Please take whatever time you need.”

  He stopped speaking while Mark reviewed the material. He had marked key areas with a yellow marker. The paperwork was mostly technical, with numerous footnotes. Mark was an old hand at reading this type of document, so he knew where to look and how much weight to put on specific data. Most of the file dealt with the origins, validity and practical uses of the ABO blood grouping which had it origins in the early 1900’s. The science had made a quantum leap over the last hundred years, especially with the discovery of antigens and antibodies. In the back of the file were financial reports showing income and expenses. Many of the items were boldly highlighted with an orange marker. Mark concluded that this was where they were headed. The financial reports belonged to the National Rare Blood Association (NRBA). Included was a brochure from the National Rare Blood Association or NRBA for short. The NRBA, from what Mark was reading, was the largest collector and distributor of rare blood types in the world. Thurston had written “ninety six percent” on the cover of the brochure, which Mark took to mean that the word “largest” really meant “exclusive.” He wasn’t keeping track of time, but at least a half hour had passed before he felt confident enough to discuss the material. Mark was anxious to find out the scope of the project with as few questions as possible. “Mr. Thurston, I think I have a pretty good feel about the blood donation process and blood types, but I’m unclear as to what it is that you expect me to do.”

  “It’s really quite simple, Mark. I need to know, in greater detail, how the NRBA is spending their money. Notably missing from any of those reports is an accounting of the multimillions of dollars expended for grants and gifts. It’s just covered by a single line on the Profit and Loss statements. I sit on a number of “Boards,” so I know that the reports the NRBA is distributing to board members are incomplete. I have officially requested additional information before the last four board meetings, and they have given me one excuse after another as to why the data is unavailable. Logic demands that if you have a total, there must be details to support it. It’s really that simple. The NRBA board consists of twenty-five Directors, thirteen inside and twelve outside. The outsiders are mainly for show and for sizeable financial support. Their influence in the operations of the NRBA stops there.”

  How ironic, Mark thought. Money can’t buy everything, after all. Thurston is upset over being denied access. Mark had no problem with that. He had taken on jobs for more shallow reasons than that. His resistance was slowly waning.

  Thurston continued, “I’ve cancelled my contributions in protest. It was more of a symbolic gesture that anything else. They don’t seem to care. Apparently they are more interested in my name. I know deep in my gut that something is wrong.”

  The great man had a very obvious character flaw; an over-inflated ego. Again, Mark could live with that. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Mark, my main concern is having my name connected with possible illegal payments, or some kind of money laundering. The way they ignore my legitimate requests makes me very suspicious. I need to see the detailed disbursement records for at least the last two fiscal years.”

  So that’s it. The puzzle is solved. Or is it?

  “Are you saying that you’re expecting me to hack into the private financial records of the NRBA?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it that way.”

  “How exactly would you put it, Mr. Thurston? Isn’t that illegal? I’m sure that you’ve learned enough about me to know that I won’t be involved in anything unlawful. I still have to look at myself in the mirror every morning.”

  Thurston sensed the annoyance in Mark’s voice.

  “Take it easy, Mark. It really comes down to how you look at it. Remember, I am a Director of the company with every right to full disclosure about their operations. That’s what I signed on for when I accepted their offer of a directorship. I’m legally and morally bound to protect the Association. I intend to look at those records, with or without you. You decide whether you are with me or not.”

  “Before I make any decision, I would like to know how they get away with these alleged irregularities, given their public image,” Mark asked. “Aren’t there laws they need to follow?”

  “They report to no governmental agencies, but wield enormous power world-wide. Governments look the other way because of the public service they provide. Local blood banks screen all donations, and when they spot a rare type that is on the NRBA list they pass all information about the donor to them. That’s how I came in contact with them originally. They contact the donor with a powerful argument for belonging to their group and for donating blood and money. It’s a very ‘life and death’ sales pitch for those with rare types. They now have over 800,000 registrants world-wide. In fact, most blood banks, as a matter of practice, now automatically send all blood on the list to their regional NRBA bank. The ‘list’ includes the negatives of all blood types, so they have control of over 16 percent of the total blood supply. Their revenues exceed a billion dollars annually.” He paused for a minute. “Getting back to your question, no, I don’t see it as illegal. If anything, I see it as obtaining information I have every right to see. You can look at it as a research project if that will make you more comfortable. Another thing, I can’t help thinking that an organization with the kind of power they have could pose a potential threat to our national security. You know, Mark, the people I contacted at the Defense Department knew exactly why I asked them to recommend someone. I’m sure that they wouldn’t have given me your name if they thought I was going to ask you to work on something illegal. They know all about this. I spelled it out in detail for them.”

  Thurston was a shrewd negotiator. You couldn’t be as successful as he was without knowing when the scales were tipping in his favor.

  It’s starting to make sense, but something’s still not right.
It can’t be that simple. There’s got to be more to it, something that isn’t apparent right now.

  “I hear what you’re saying, Mister Thurston, but what my former employer considers ‘legal’ and what civilian courts consider ‘legal’ are often miles apart. The DD is not here to protect me now.”

  Thurston had, however, hit a responsive nerve, and Mark was slowly coming around. He continued, “The NRBA built firewalls and uses some fancy encryptions. I don’t mind admitting that we already tried to get this information. I set up a special team reporting directly to me that worked on it for two months. I have some of the top software specialists in the country, Mark, but they came up empty. I hear that you are one of the best, that you have ways to get around all that stuff, or at least you know who to go to if you need to.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “All I need is the raw data. My team will extract the details I need. I don’t care how you do it, as long as you get it done. I’m counting on you.”

  Mark still wasn’t totally sold on the assignment. Thurston could surely see that in his eyes and expression.

  “Do you really understand where I’m coming from?” He didn’t wait for the answer. He cut right to the chase. “Mark, do you think you’re up to handling this assignment?”

  The moment of truth had arrived. There was a lot to consider. Mark had certainly worked on stranger projects than this. Still, there were so many variables. It was not unusual for his clients to have hidden agendas, but then again, working on a case for Peter Thurston would be good for his business. It could generate a lot of assignments. “Yes sir, I am, and I’m quite confident that I can get you what you need.” He pulled out his calendar to check for any openings. “In fact, I can move a few things around on my schedule so that I can start on it next Monday.” Thurston looked relieved. He sat back in his chair and waited for Mark to finish.

  Now it was Mark’s time to do his stuff. “First, I’d like to take a minute or two to go over my fees. My rate is one hundred twenty-five dollars an hour plus expenses. The minimum for the job is thirty thousand dollars with ten thousand as a retainer. Any sub-contracting costs will be billed at my hourly fee. I invoice on the first of each month, due upon receipt. Within ten days of the completion of the project I will issue a final report. At your request, I will not retain any record of my specific findings or of my direct dealings with you personally. I will invoice for consulting fees only.” He stopped for a moment to see if the fees made any noticeable impression. Thurston took it all in stride, not even taking notes. Mark continued, “As a practice, I do not require a written contract. A verbal agreement and a handshake works for me. Well, that’s about it. Do we have a deal?”

  Thurston rose from his chair and walked around the desk to hand Mark another file and to shake hands. “We do, Mark! Everything you need to know is in this file. You will also find an expense retainer for fifteen thousand dollars. I’m confident you won’t let me down.” Suddenly his tone changed, “I prefer that this be our only face-to-face meeting. If you need any additional information, you will contact my secretary, Mrs. Barth. Her private number is in the file. I want you to direct all invoices and your reports to her as well at the address shown in the file.”

  Mrs. Barth! So Miss “Prim and Proper” finally has a name.

  “If that’s all,” Thurston concluded, “thanks for coming in. I look forward to receiving the information soon.”

  With that, they shook hands again. Then he put his hand on Mark’s shoulder and escorted him to the elevator. He stood quietly as the doors closed. Thurston smiled as he returned to his office. He picked up his phone and signaled for his secretary.

  “Mrs. Barth, get me Prentiss at Defense.” Moments later, he was connected. “Matthews just left, he is on board.”

  He listened for a few minutes and hung up the phone.

  * * *

  Dennis Peterson, Special Agent in Charge of the FBI office in Cleveland, received a call from Marlin Prentiss at the Department of Defense informing him that the investigation of the NRBA had advanced to phase two. He was not used to these end-around operations, preferring to control such investigations solely with his own agents, but Justice was the guiding hand in this, so he had had no choice but to cooperate to the fullest by assigning his top technician, Susan Harrigan to the case. Mark Matthews was just an added factor in the equation. He returned the handset to its cradle and said quietly to himself, “I sure hope to God this works.”

  * * *

  Susan Harrigan was in her early thirties. She graduated from the University of Missouri, Columbia with an MBA in Computer Science. Her thesis was titled “Contemporary Data Base Theory and Design.” Her unique talent for coding created quite a stir in the scientific community and attracted many job offers, including one from the Defense Department. She joined the “Hide & Seek” team at the Pentagon as a Computer Science Specialist. By the time she left the team, she had grown technically and had made major contributions to the team. Her development of “LEECH”, alone, would have been worth multi-millions in the private sector. For the Pentagon, it meant getting access to computer records that they needed to shut down scores of illegal operations here and abroad. Her software and technical know-how made her an extremely valuable commodity in the cyber world.

  Susan’s parents passed away when she was a teenager, so when the administration changed in Washington she joined an associate in San Diego doing software consulting. That ended abruptly after two years, She moved back east to Hudson, Ohio to open a software consulting business, serving mid-sized companies in the Cleveland area. She also did programming for several Ohio State departments, edited two technical journals and even occasionally taught undergraduate classes at Ohio University in Zanesville. She had everything going for her. Her plate was full, but her life was about to take a perilous twist.

  * * *

  Mark left the building and set off for his office. The feeling of dread reappeared. What on earth is the problem? I have a very lucrative assignment with a client that could be a major revenue producer in the future. What could possibly go wrong?

  CHAPTER 3

  Mark returned to his office around two. He occupied two thousand square feet at the Copperthwaite Square office complex on Main Street in downtown Centerville, Ohio. His office was at the end of a long hall adjacent to the emergency exit. “MARK MATTHEWS” was in gold letters on the smoked glass. He had deliberately left “Private Investigator” off the glass to deter any unwanted visitors. Anyone visiting Mark there was already well screened. His office was divided into two sections separated by a six-paneled door. The first section acted as a reception area and an office for his part-time secretary, Brenda. It uses about a third of the total space and holds a secretarial desk and chair, as well as three waiting chairs. His area was tastefully decorated by Office Depot, including an oversized desk, a high-backed executive chair and two side chairs. Part of the back wall has a large floor to ceiling window. On the left wall hangs a copy of his P.I. License, proudly displayed in a thick gold frame. On the opposite wall hangs his Masters in Criminology diploma from Indiana State University, with matching frame. Mark kept his undergraduate diploma from the University of Dayton at his home. He needed something to decorate his basement office. His dad was very proud of it, since he taught at the school, so Mark really kept it at home for him. A wooden credenza behind his desk held a fax machine, a Canon printer, a telephone console with a message machine and a photo of his parents.

  He sat at his desk for a minute to reflect on the stark difference between his office and that of Peter Thurston. Not wanting to get too depressed, he turned to the stack of letters that Brenda had left for his signature, finishing them in five minutes. His desk surface held a Gateway Laptop that Brenda shared for correspondence and billing when he’s away from the office. Mark also had a large desk blotter that belonged to his father, and an “IN” and an “OUT” box. That’s all, nothing fancy. He didn’t spend a lot of time there, preferring to u
se his home office whenever he was doing serious computer work; mostly for the privacy and more comfortable surroundings. It was also quieter there, so he can think better (over the sounds of a favorite CD). He could have a brew or two if so inclined, which invariably happened.

  Mark didn’t usually spend much time prepping Brenda to set up a client file. Normally it was so routine that he only had to note a few specifics on a pad and leave it for her. She always knew what to do from there. Peter Thurston’s insistence on anonymity and special reporting procedures was already causing Mark to modify the way he did business. He left a message on Brenda’s answering machine to set up Thurston’s records in the computer program when she came in to do the monthly invoicing. He carefully laid out the specifics for her to follow. He checked the answering machine and was glad to find only three messages. They were all from telemarketers. Erasing them was always a pleasure. He was anxious to return home and make a pass at the NRBA system on his home computer. If it was as tough to crack as Thurston had led him to believe, it promised to be an exceptional challenge.

  His “home computer” was a small collection of hardware in his father’s basement. Mark’s dad left him the house when he passed on, and although the study was larger and on the main floor, Mark decided to leave the books and personal things intact for the time being. He used some of the money left to him to purchase a new laptop, a printer, an updated encryption machine, a “Road Runner” connection and a few other gadgets. What Mark liked most about living in Centerville was the easy access to his office complex, stores and the residential areas. Everything that he needed was within a ten to fifteen minute drive. Within between twenty minutes and two hours he could be in Dayton, Cincinnati or Columbus. His house was located on a cul-de-sac, set on a one acre heavily treed plot. It was built in the early 70‘s. The location was ideal, especially to operate a business like his. It took a little bit of cajoling, mostly on his father’s part, to get the city to allow Mark to operate a quasi-business in the house. The zoning was strictly for residential use. The selling point was that Mark would not, as a normal practice, have clients visiting there. As it turned out, he never had to. Since his business office was also in Centerville, there was no town Income Tax conflict.