Fool Me Once (14 page)

In short, there would be security. Better to get him alone, no?

The red Buick backed out of the space and started toward the exit. Maya was on it. She merged onto Paterson Plank Road and immediately felt unsettled. Why? Was it her imagination, or did the red Buick hesitate, as if somehow she had already been spotted? That was hard to fathom. She was a full three cars back.

Two minutes into the ride, Maya realized that tailing him wouldn’t work.

She hadn’t quite realized it before, but now that her plan was in action, she could see more issues raising their heads. Problem One: He clearly knew her car. He had, in fact, tailed it himself on numerous occasions. One look in the rearview mirror would be all he’d need to put it together.

Problem Two: Lulu or Billy or Meathead or someone else at the club could have warned him about her visit, in fact probably had. So Buick Yankees Cap would be on guard. He might, in fact, have already spotted her.

Problem Three: Depending on how long he had been following Maya, Buick Yankees Cap could have done the same thing Maya did with Hector’s truck—put a GPS tracker on it. For all she knew, he had known that she was parked outside the club from the moment she arrived.

This could all be a setup. This could all be a trap.

She could back off, figure out a better way in, and come back to Leather and Lace with a plan. But uh-uh, no way. Enough with the passive approach. She needed answers, and if that meant using a little less caution and erring on the side of boldness, so be it.

They were still in the industrial area, a few miles from the major highway. Once the Buick was there, she’d have no chance. Maya reached into her purse. The handgun was within easy reach. The traffic light turned red. The Buick glided to a stop, first car in line in the right lane. Maya hit the accelerator and veered first left, then back to the right. She knew that she would have to move fast. She passed the Buick on its left, spun the wheel, and angled her car so she blocked him.

She was out of the car, keeping the gun low and out of sight. Yes, this was ridiculously risky, but she had done the calculations. If he tried to back up or make a run for it, she would shoot his tires. Would someone call the police? Probably. But she was willing to take that risk. Worst-case scenario: The police arrest her. She would then tell them about her husband’s murder and that this guy had started following her. She might then have to play the hysterical widow a bit, but there was little chance she would be convicted of something serious.

Within seconds, Maya was at the red Buick. The glare on the windshield prevented her from seeing the driver, but that wouldn’t last. She considered going to the driver’s-side window and threatening him with the gun through the glass, but in the end, she opted for the passenger-side door. It might be unlocked, in which case she could just slip inside. If it wasn’t, she could make the same threat through that window.

She reached out, grabbed the door handle, and pulled.

The car door opened.

Maya slipped inside and lifted the gun toward the man in the Yankees cap.

The man turned and smiled at her. “Hey, Maya.”

She sat there, stunned.

He took the baseball cap off and said, “Nice to finally meet in person.”

She wanted to pull the trigger. She had almost dreamed about this moment—seeing him, pulling the trigger, blowing him away. Her first thought was that simple, instinctive, and primitive: Kill your enemy.

But if she did, forgetting the legal and moral implications for the moment, the answers would probably die with him. And now, more than ever, she had to know the truth. Because the man following her in the red Buick, the man who had secretly communicated with Claire in the weeks before her murder, was none other than Corey the Whistle.

W
hy are you following me?”

Corey was still smiling. “Put away the gun, Maya.”

In all the photographs, Corey Rudzinski was well-dressed, baby-faced, and clean-shaven. The scruffy beard, the baseball cap, the dad jeans all made for a pretty good disguise. Maya just stared, still pointing the gun at him. Horns started blaring.

“We’re blocking up traffic,” Corey said. “Move your car and then we can talk.”

“I want to know—”

“And you will. But first move your car to the side of the road.”

More horns.

Maya reached across and grabbed his car keys. No way she was about to let him slip away. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“No plans to, Maya.”

She pulled her car toward the curb, parked it, and slid back into the Buick’s passenger seat. She handed him the keys.

“I bet you’re confused,” Corey said.

Dr. Understatement. Maya was stunned. Like a boxer on his heels, she needed time to recover, to take the standing eight count, get her head back into the fight. Explanations for how this could be rose into view, but in every case, she was able to shoot them down with too much ease.

Nothing made sense.

She started with an obvious question. “How do you know my sister?”

His smile faded away when she asked that, replaced by what appeared to be genuine sadness, and she realized why. Maya had said, “do you know”—present tense. Corey Rudzinski had indeed known Claire. He had, Maya could see, cared for her.

He faced forward. “Let’s take a ride,” he said.

“I’d rather you just answer the question.”

“I can’t stay out here. Too exposed. They won’t stand for it either.”

“They?”

He didn’t reply. He drove her back to Leather and Lace and parked in the same spot. Two cars pulled in behind them. Had the cars been out on the road with them? Maya thought that maybe they had.

The employee entrance had a keypad. Corey punched in the
numbers. Maya memorized the code, just in case. “Don’t bother,” he said. “Someone still has to buzz you in too.”

“You type in a code and a guard checks you out?”

“That’s right.”

“Sounds like overkill. Or maybe paranoia.”

“Yes, I bet it does.”

The corridor was dark and stank like dirty socks. They walked through the club. The Disney song “A Whole New World” was blaring. The pole dancer wore a Princess-Jasmine-from-
Aladdin
costume. Maya frowned. Seemed dress-up wasn’t just for preschool.

He led her past a beaded curtain and into a private back room. The room was gold and green and looked like a Midwest cheerleader uniform had inspired the décor.

“You knew I came here before,” Maya said. “That I talked to that Lulu.”

“Yes.”

She was putting it together. “So you probably watched me leave. You saw me head over toward your car. So you knew I was following you.”

He didn’t reply.

“And those two cars that pulled in behind us. They with you?”

“Overkill, Maya. Paranoia. Have a seat.”

“On this?” Maya frowned. “How often do they clean the upholstery?”

“Often enough. Sit.”

They both did.

“I need you to understand what I do,” he began.

“I understand what you do.”

“Oh?”

“You think secrets are bad, so you reveal them, damn the repercussions.”

“That’s not far off, actually.”

“So let’s skip the rationale. How do you know my sister?”

“She contacted me,” Corey said.

“When?”

Corey hesitated. “I’m not a radical. I’m not an anarchist. It’s nothing like that.”

Maya didn’t give a shit what it was like. She wanted to know about Claire and why he was following her. But she didn’t want to antagonize him unnecessarily or discourage openness. She stayed silent.

“You’re right about secrets. I started out as a hacker. I’d break into places for fun. Then big companies and governments. Like a game. But then I started to see all the secrets. I’d see how the powerful abuse the normal man.” He caught himself. “You don’t want to hear that speech, do you?”

“Not really.”

“Anyway, the point is, we don’t hack much anymore. We give whistle-blowers the freedom to tell the truth. That’s all. Because people cannot police themselves when it comes to power and money. It’s simple human nature. We twist the truth to suit our self-interest. So the people who work for cigarette companies—they aren’t all horrible, evil people. They just can’t make themselves do the right thing because it’s not in their self-interest. We humans are wonderful at self-justification.”

So much for not getting the speech.

A waitress came into the room wearing a top that had the relative width of a headband. “Drink?” she said.

“Maya?” Corey asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Get me a club soda with lime, please.”

The waitress left. Corey turned toward Maya.

“People think I want to weaken governments or businesses. Actually I want the opposite. I want to strengthen them by forcing them to do the right thing, the just thing. If your government or business is built on lies, then build them on truth instead. So no secrets. No secrets anywhere. If a billionaire is paying off a government official to get that oil field, let the people know. In your case, if your government is killing civilians in a war—”

“That’s not what we were doing.”

“I know, I know, collateral damage. Great nebulous term, don’t you think? Whatever you believe, accident or intentional, we the people should know. We may still want to fight the war. But we should know. Businessmen lie and cheat. Sports figures lie and cheat. Governments lie and cheat. We shrug. But imagine a world where that didn’t happen. Imagine a world where we have full accountability instead of unjust authority. Imagine a world where there are no abuses or secrets.”

“Are there unicorns and pixie dust in this world?” Maya asked.

He smiled. “You think me naïve?”

“Corey—can I call you Corey?”

“Please.”

“How do you know my sister?”

“I told you. She contacted me.”

“When?”

“A few months before her death. She sent an email to my website. It eventually found its way to me.”

“What did it say?”

“Her email? She wanted to talk to me.”

“What about?”

“What do you think, Maya? You.”

The waitress came back. “Two club sodas with lime.” She gave Maya a friendly wink. “I know you didn’t order one, hon, but you might get thirsty.”

She handed the drinks off, gave Maya a big smile, and then strode away.

“You’re not trying to tell me Claire was the one who leaked that combat tape—”

“No.”

“—because there is no way she’d even have access—”

“No, Maya, that’s not what I’m saying. She contacted me after I released your tape.”

That made more sense yet answered nothing. “What did she say?”

“That’s why I’m trying to explain our philosophy. About whistle-blowing. About accountability and freedom.”

“I’m not following.”

“Claire contacted me because she was afraid I was going to reveal the rest of your tape.”

Silence.

“You know what I mean, don’t you, Maya?”

“Yes.”

“You told Claire about it?”

“I told her everything. We told each other everything. At least that’s what I thought.”

Corey smiled at her. “She wanted to protect you. She asked me not to release the audio.”

“And you didn’t.”

“That’s correct.”

“Just because Claire asked.”

He took a sip of his drink. “I know a man. A group really. They think they’re like mine. But they’re not. They reveal secrets too, but on an individual scale. Cheating spouses, steroid users, revenge porn, stuff like that. Personal deceptions. If you want to do something unethical anonymously online, this group will out you. Like those hackers of that adultery website did last year.”

“And you don’t agree with that?”

“I don’t.”

“Why not? Aren’t they ridding the world of secrets?”

“Funny,” he said.

“What?”

“Your sister raised that point too. I won’t say we are hypocritical, but we do pick and choose our spots, don’t we? No way around it. I didn’t reveal the audio on your tape for, yes, my own selfish reasons. I had planned to do it later. To maximize the impact of the revelation. More hits on my website. More exposure for my cause.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Your sister. She asked me not to.”

“Just like that.”

“She was convincing. You, Maya, are just a pawn, she explained. You are forced to be what you are by a corrupt system. Part of me wants to reveal that because, again, the truth will indeed set you free. But you’d be irreparably harmed. Claire convinced me that if I did that, I’d be no better than my colleagues who nail small-time cheaters.”

Maya was getting tired of the circling. “You were more interested in hurting the war cause than hurting me.”

“Yes.”

“So you provided the people with your own narrative. Let them hate the government. If they heard the audio, they might blame me instead.”

“I guess that’s true.”

Replacing the truth with his own narrative, Maya thought. Scratch the surface and we are all the same. There was no time or reason to ruminate on that right now.

“So my sister contacted you,” Maya said, “to protect me.”

“Yes.”

Maya nodded. That made sense. Sad, terrible sense. The guilt came rushing back. “So then what happened?”

“She convinced me of the righteousness of her argument.” A small smile toyed with his lips. “And I convinced her of the righteousness of mine.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Claire worked for a big corrupt corporation. She had access to the inner sanctum.”

It was starting to click. “You convinced her to leak information to you?”

“She saw the righteousness of the cause.”

Maya had a thought.

“What?”

“Was it quid pro quo?” Maya asked. “Did Claire agree to help take down Burkett Enterprises in exchange for you not releasing the audio?”

“Nothing so crude.”

Or was it just that crude?

“So,” Maya said, feeling the answer start to well up, “you got Claire to do your dirty work. And it got her killed.”

A shadow crossed his face. “Not just Claire,” Corey said.

“What do you mean?”

“She worked with Joe.”

Maya let that sink in a moment before she shook her head. “There’s no way Joe would turn in his own family.”

“Your sister apparently thought otherwise.”

Maya closed her eyes.

“Think about it. Claire looks into it. She ends up dead. Then Joe looks into it . . .”

The connection, Maya thought. Everyone was looking for the connection.

Corey thought that he knew what it was.

But he was wrong.

“Joe reached out to me after your sister died.”

“What did he say?”

“He wanted to meet.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t. I had to stay off the grid. I’m sure you read about it. The Danish government was trying to nail me on trumped-up charges. I told him that I could find secure ways to communicate, but he wanted to meet in person. I think he wanted to help. And I think he found a secret that got him killed.”

“What were Claire and Joe supposed to be investigating?”

“Financial crimes.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“You know the phrase that behind every great fortune is a
crime? It’s true. Oh, I’m sure you could find exceptions, but scratch the surface behind every major corporation and someone got paid off or someone intimidated the competition.”

“And in this case?”

“The Burkett family has a long history of paying off top politicians in this country and abroad. Do you remember the case of the pharmaceutical company Ranbaxy?”

“Vaguely,” Maya said. “Fraudulent drugs or something.”

“Close enough. The Burketts are doing something similar over in Asia with one of their pharmaceutical holdings called EAC. People are dying because the drugs don’t meet specifications, but so far, the Burketts have managed to hide behind claims of local incompetence. In short, they claim that they didn’t know anything, that their testing was sound, whatever. It’s all lies. They fabricated data, we are sure of it.”

“But you couldn’t prove it,” Maya said.

“Exactly. We needed someone from the inside to get the data.”

“So you sent in Claire.”

“Nobody forced her, Maya.”

“No, you charmed.”

“Don’t insult your sister’s intelligence. She knew the risks. She was brave. I didn’t make her. She wanted to do the right thing. You, of all people, should understand that—that she died trying to expose injustice.”

“Don’t,” Maya said.

“What?”

She hated when people made comparisons to soldiers and war. They always managed to be both patronizing and inept. But again, now was not the time.

“So your theory is that someone in Joe’s family killed Claire—and then Joe—to hush up exposure?”

“What, you think they’re above it?”

Maya thought about that. “They might not be above killing Claire,” she said, “but they’d never kill one of their own.”

“You may be right.” He rubbed his face with his hand and looked off. From the other room, Maya could hear the song “Be Our Guest” from
Beauty and the Beast
, adding new meaning to the line “put our service to the test.”

“But,” he continued, “I think Claire found something else. Something bigger than manipulating a drug test.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Lulu told me you found her burner phone.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t go through how the machinations of our communications worked, how the calls here can be rerouted via the dark web and eventually find their way to me. But still. We had agreed on radio silence. We would only communicate when she was ready to give me the final material or if there was an emergency.”

Maya leaned forward. “But Claire did reach out.”

“Yes. A few days before her death.”

“What did she say?”

“That she’d found something.”

“Something other than drug tampering?”