Read Online Treaty Violation by Anthony C. Patton - Free Book Online Page B

drummed his fingers on the oak table. The Order definitely owned this company: it was running the finances for operation Delphi Justice, and the decor was exquisite. Besides, million-dollar wire transfers and six-figure cash withdrawals weren’t things U.S. government agencies did without lots of paperwork and Congressional oversight.
    He focused his attention on Jessica, who was outlining the benefits of owning a Panamanian corporation: anonymity with bearer shares, no taxes on revenue generated outside of Panama, and no financial reporting requirements. Enterprise Associates, EA in the company’s parlance, created corporations, trusts, and foundations for people who had reasons to believe their assets were in danger of repossession, or for “tax planning” purposes. EA also offered a complete line of offshore mutual funds and a brokerage service.
    Nicholas was impressed, with her, that is. He’d worked with many offshore banks and had heard the pitch, but never from an attractive Euro-blonde. This presentation was probably designed for inheritors of wealth who had to be initiated into the arcane craft of wealth preservation. The seasoned members of The Order who met in this conference room not only understood offshore finance, they probably made the rules.
    They left the conference room and returned to the reception area. The faucet was still running when they walked past the bathroom.
    “Nash must be really upset,” Nicholas whispered and stopped to look inside his office. The computer was big enough to run a small corporation.
    Jessica gestured for Nicholas to follow her to the desk. He slid her chair back and admired her cleavage as she sat.
    Jessica held back a smile as she removed a printed piece of paper from the desk drawer, folded it, and stuffed it into an envelope. “They warned me about you.”
    “Is that a bad thing?”
    Jessica handed him the envelope. “Here are the instructions for wiring the money. Nash will program the computer today. Good day, Mr. Lowe.”

TWELVE
     
    Nicholas tugged the lapels of his sport coat as he left the El Panama hotel lobby and walked to the casino. He could have used the inside corridor, but he wanted to breathe the night air before the next meeting. A torrential rain had fallen, and the humid air smelled of dust. The words “La Fiesta” flashed in colored lights above the doorway. The security guard opened the door with a smile and wished him well.
    Noisy slot machines and intermittent cheers cultivated an I-feel-lucky mood. Waitresses with black bow ties carried trays of drinks. Security guards wandered the narrow aisles with walkie-talkies. The carpet was appropriately gaudy, but the room lacked the spaciousness and thematic decor of a Las Vegas casino.
    Money. Nicholas could smell it. Ritzy couples stacked chips on the tables as if they were building blocks. They looked entertained, probably wasting interest earned on interest from the family fortune. A dozen Japanese men smoking and drinking scotch with loosened ties were crowded around a table watching the spinning wheels, bouncing dice, and sliding cards. Money was transferring from one person to the next and back to the casino in the blink of an eye.
    Nicholas walked past the noisy slot machines and spotted the buyers, Willie and Daisy Holland, standing near a craps table. They looked just as Tyler had described them: eccentric. Willie, mid-sixties, wore a salmon linen shirt and a tan straw hat. His face was ruddy with a whiskey nose. Daisy, a spicy redhead, mid-fifties, wore a teal dress with a white scarf tied loosely around her neck. A cigarette in a long black holder dangled from her left hand. A waiter handed Willie something on the rocks. Daisy accepted a glass of champagne. Nicholas thought of two words that didn’t describe them: drug dealers.
    Nicholas accepted a scotch from a passing waitress and approached the craps table. He lifted his drink to Willie and offered a cordial smile. Willie returned