Part 24 (1/2)
”Specifically.”
”He said my client's a fake.”
”Do you think she is?”
”I'm trying to be compa.s.sionate,” he said, ”as well as a realist.”
”Evasive answer, counselor,” she chided.
”So far, I believe her.” He thought for a moment.
”She has those doc.u.ments. They look strong. d.a.m.ned strong. If I went to England, say, and got more corroborating evidence for her . . .
Well, she'd be in an even stronger position.”
”Before you take any trips there's more you ought to know.”
”Go ahead ” ”With the help of some of our financial editors at the paper we've put together quite a bit on our favorite family.
Interlocking corporations. Phantom owners.h.i.+ps. Trusts. Holding companies and such.”
”In chemicals?”
”Chemicals and real estate. But that's not the point. It's mostly an odd a.s.sortment of smaller companies owned by slightly larger companies, equally strange. A merry-go-round of owners.h.i.+p, and no one can find where it started to spin.”
”In other words,” he said, 'no one can find out where the money came from to start with. Sounds familiar.”
”Right” she said.
”And none of the companies do anything except hold wealth that seems to acc.u.mulate ' She paused for a moment. Thomas tried to conjure up an image of Arthur Sandler, the enigma at the center of the case.
Sandler's finances were like the master himself, invisible but very much alive.
”What do you think it's all worth?” she asked.
”Zenger guessed twelve million. Tops.”
”Try again.”
”More?”
”We're figuring it conservatively and we've got it up to fifty million.
That's five zero. And it's still growing. The more you trace, the more you find. It simply doesn't end' ”Jesus ” he said with a low whistle and now, suddenly, an uneasy fearful feeling.
”You could finance a small country with money like that.”
”You said it, I didn't There was a pause on both ends of the line.
When she spoke again there was uncharacteristic concern in her voice.
”Tom?”