ABSOLUTE POWER By: DAVID BALDACCI

this comes out. So? They got it back. Where does that leave us, Jack?”

“Luther didn’t make these photos just in case something happened to the

original article.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He came back into the country, Seth, remember? We could never figure

that one out.”

Frank stopped at a red light. He turned around in his seat.

“Right. He came back. You think you know why?”

Jack carefully sat up in the back seat, keeping his head below the

window line. “I think so. Remember I told you that Luther wasn’t the

kind of guy to let something like this lie. If he could he’d do

something about it.”

“But he did leave the country. At first.”

“I know. Maybe that was his initial plan. Maybe that was his plan all

along if the job had gone according to plan. But the fact is he came

back. Something made him change his mind and he came back. And he had

these photographs.”

Jack spread them fanlike.

The light turned green and Frank started up again.

“I’m not getting this, Jack. If he wanted to nail the guy why not just

send the stuff in to the police?”

“I think that-was his plan, eventually. But he told Edwina Broome that

if he told her who he had seen she wouldn’t have believed him. If even

she, a close friend, wouldn’t have believed his story, considering he’d

have to admit to burglary to convince someone, he probably thought that

his credibility was zip.”

“Okay, so he has a credibility problem. Where do the photos come in?”

“Let’s say you’re doing a straight exchange. Cash for a certain item.

What’s the hardest part?”

Frank’s reply was immediate. “The payoff. How to get your money without

getting killed or caught. You can send instructions later on for the

pickup of the item. It’s getting the money that’s tough. That’s why the

number of kidnappings have plummeted.”

“So how would you do it?”

Frank thought for a moment. “Since we’re talking about the payoff coming

from people who ain’t gonna bring in the police I’d go for speed. Take

minimal personal risk, and give yourself time to run.”

“How would you do that?”

“EFT. Electronic fund transfer. A wire. I was involved in a bank

embezzlement case when I was in New York. Guy did it all through the

wire transfer department at his own bank.

You wouldn’t believe the dollars that fly through those places on a

daily basis. And you also wouldn’t believe how much stuff gets lost in

the shuffle. A smart perp could take a little chunk here and there and

by the time they caught it, he’d be long gone@. You send your wire

instructions. The money is sent out. Only takes a few minutes. Helluva

lot better than rummaging through a Dumpster in a park where somebody

can take a nice little bead on your head with a cannon.”

“But the sender can presumably trace the wire.”

“Sure. You have to identify the bank it’s going to. ABA routing’number,

you have to have an account at the bank. All that shit.”

“So, assuming the sender is sophisticated enough, they trace the wire.

Then what?”

“Then they can follow the flow of money. They might be able to dig some

info on the account. Although no one would be stupid enough to use their

own name or Social Security number. Besides, a real smart guy like

Whitney would probably have preset instructions in place. Once the funds

hit the first bank, barn they get sent out to another place, and then

another and another. At some point, the trail probably disappears. It’s

instant money after all. Immediately available funds.”

“Fair enough. I’m betting Luther did something just like that.”

Frank carefully scratched around the edges of his bandage.

His hat was pulled down tight and the whole thing was greatly

uncomfortable. “But what I can’t figure is why do it at all. He didn’t

need the money after the Sullivan hit. He could’ve just stayed

disappeared. Let the whole thing blow over. After a while they figure

he’s permanently retired. You don’t bother me, I don’t bother you.”

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