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Holding a scalpel, Bobby grinned a little maniacally. “I got information. And he’s not dead. Not yet.”
Ed looked up from a laptop that Corey hadn’t seen before. “I told him to stop.”
Bobby sneered at him. The two were like children sometimes. “I got what we needed.”
“He did,” Ed confirmed reluctantly. “Bobby got all of Dewey’s passwords.”
“Including the one to his offshore account,” Bobby said smugly.
“Was his account as big as Aaron’s?” Corey asked.
“He did,” Ed confirmed. “Not quite as large as Aaron’s, but no pittance, either. We’ve come to the conclusion that the homeless look is just an act. He hid from the cops and caused us to underestimate him all this time.”
“I never thought he was all that stupid,” Corey said, then nodded at Bobby. “Nice job with the passwords.”
Bobby bowed dramatically. “Thank you.”
Ed rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage him. But I do have to admit, he was terrifyingly tenacious. Dewey held out for a long time. Bobby never gave up.”
“How much does he have offshore?”
“Two mil,” Ed said with a grin. “He had that much, anyway. Now we do. And now we know why Dewey wanted Aaron out of jail so bad.”
Corey pulled out a chair and sat down. “Tell me.”
“He and Aaron kept a safe,” Ed explained. “They’d keep putting their profits in it until it was full, then—together—they’d box up the cash and make a run to Miami in Dewey’s boat.”
Corey shook his head. “That boat out there on the dock? They couldn’t make it to Panama City in that old jon boat, much less all the way down to Miami.”
Ed turned the laptop around, revealing an honest-to-God yacht. “This is Dewey’s actual boat. He moors it at a marina on Lake Pontchartrain. He’s owned it for years—bought it through a shell corporation and used it under the previous Sixth Day leadership. They have a contact in Miami who launders money for a fifteen percent cut. Dewey said it was worth it to avoid scrutiny from the DEA and the FBI. They’d take down boxes of cash, meet up with the guy, hand over the cash, and leave with a deposit into their offshore accounts.”
“Handy,” Corey drawled. “And here we’ve been laundering our money through Three Vets, creating all those fake customers and invoices. We could have been doing it the easy way.”
“For real,” Ed grumbled. “I’ve been busting my hump keeping our books straight. Anyway, they kept the cash in Aaron’s safe.”
Corey shook his head again. “We checked Aaron’s safe. It only had a few grand.”
“Aaron has another safe,” Bobby said, “right here in the camp.”
“A very fancy safe,” Ed added, “with a palm scanner for access.”
Bobby waggled his brows. “Under the floor in Aaron’s quarters.”
Then Corey understood. “Dewey needs Aaron’s palm to open it. So how do we get into the safe? Even if we cut Aaron’s hand off, those things need live electrical signals from the skin. Don’t they?”
“Yes, but Aaron was a lying douchebag.” Ed rolled his eyes. “Aaron led Dewey to believe that if either of them tried breaking into the safe without both palm prints, it would self-destruct, destroying everything inside. But the safe had an override combination, which only Aaron knew. I’ve seen the combo in a file on his laptop. I just didn’t know what it was for.”
“The safe held a mil in cash,” Bobby said. “And some more offshore account numbers.”
Corey was floored. “How many offshore accounts do these guys have?”
“So far,” Ed said, “I count eight, including the three in the safe. Those were empty. Aaron moved all the money into his own accounts.”
“Which we already took,” Corey said.
Bobby nodded. “Aaron fucked Dewey over. Stole his share of the profits in the safe and was going to live the high life in the Bahamas with Sandra the Whore, as Dianne calls her.”
“What a dick.” Corey turned his attention to Dewey. “Did you ask him how he got all that information on Cardozo’s kid? Because none of that was online.”
