Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Siren drove the van across the Missouri River just after noon. The heavy, brown river moved slowly between the wooded banks. Council Bluffs fell away in the rearview, Omaha spreading out along the water.
They drove over the cobblestone streets of the Old Market district. The original brick warehouses had been converted into coffee shops, art galleries, and lofts.
When they reached downtown, the corporate headquarters for insurance companies and railroads rose around them. She found Diana’s firm in a six-story professional complex and parked the van in a garage two blocks away.
They were dressed as Sarah and Michael Phillips. Siren in her linen trousers and flowery cardigan, gun strapped to her ankle above her sensible sandals. Reed in khakis and a polo shirt, looking exactly like a high school chemistry teacher on vacation.
In the lobby, they checked the business directory, locating Reyes Forensic Accounting in Suite 412. The two of them then took the elevator up to the fourth floor.
The reception area for Diana’s firm was small but cozy, with artistic black and white photographs of the Omaha landscape decorating the walls. A young woman sat behind the reception desk, typing on her computer.
She smiled in greeting. “Can I help you?”
“We have an appointment with Diana Reyes at one,” Siren informed her.
The receptionist checked her calendar. “Ms. Reyes is expecting you,” she said, gesturing for the door behind the desk.
Reed held the door for Siren and followed her inside. Diana’s office was decorated with thriving potted plants, and black and white photographs of the city and natural landscapes. Several heavy-duty file cabinets lined the wall across from the window.
Diana stood when they entered, shook their hands in greeting, and invited them to sit in the comfortable upholstered chairs across from her sturdy oak desk. She was shorter than Siren by about five inches, with dark hair and clever eyes behind tortoiseshell glasses.
She was dressed in a gray skirt suit, with a mother of pearl cameo at the collar of her pink blouse. As they sat, Diana smiled and asked them about the estate issue that had brought them there today.
“Garrett Cole sent us. The river still runs,” Siren said.
Diana went still. For a long moment, no one spoke. Diana’s brown eyes fixed on Siren, her posture stiff.
“It’s been a long time since anyone said that to me. Tell me why you’re here.”
“We need information,” Siren said. “About Meridian.”
Diana sucked a breath, her face going pale. “Where did you hear that name?”
Siren nodded to Reed to start the recording. He pulled the device out of his pocket and hit the play button.
Carl Unger’s voice filled the space. “I want extraction. A new identity. The Fifty thousand you owe me. I know how Meridian works. I know where the money comes from.”
They listened in silence until the handler said, “The Major doesn’t tolerate loose ends.”
Diana’s brow furrowed. “The Major…”
The recording continued. The scuffle. The grunt. The silence. Reed hit the stop button on the recording device. Diana sat motionless, staring at them like they’d shattered her world.
“I’ve been chasing Meridian for twelve years,” she said, taking her glasses off. She rubbed her eyes. “Tell me everything.”
Siren gave her an up-to-date summary. The Crown Mountain conspiracy. She told her about the professional team that had ambushed them on the way to the safehouse in Oregon. The trail to Jackie, to Garret, to her.
Diana listened intently, her fingers threaded on the desk, her eyes focused on Siren.
“Why did Garrett send you to me?” she finally asked.
“He told us you’d been tracking this financial pipeline since you lost someone important.”
“My mate. Simon. We were partners in the Bureau. Financial crimes unit. I did the numbers. He did the fieldwork. He was a wolf shifter, and the love of my life.”
She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the street below. “Twelve years ago, we got a tip about money laundering. Suspicious shell companies in Delaware routing hundreds of thousands of dollars to a LLC in Wyoming called Teton Resource Group.”
She turned back to face them.
“We started digging into Teton Resource Group.” Her voice started to waver. “That’s when we found a reference to Meridian in the memo fields of multiple wire transfers. We didn’t know if it was a code name, an account, or an operation. But when Simon asked around about it, people got nervous.”
She paused, her eyes getting watery.
“A week later, he was shot dead in a parking garage, his car gone. It looked like a carjacking gone wrong. His wallet and his watch were gone. Case closed.”
“Doesn’t sound random,” Siren muttered.
“No.” Diana sat back down. “I tried to keep the investigation open. Pushed my supervisors. Demanded more resources. They shut me down with the usual excuses.”
Her voice flattened. “I quit the Bureau after that. Changed my name. Moved here and started over. I reached out to people I trusted to help me with my cover. Garrett was one of them. He’s my eyes and ears in that world.
” She stood back up. “I’ve been building a case, waiting for someone who could do something with it. ”
Diana walked to the filing cabinets against the wall, pulled out several thick folders, and set them on the desk.
“This is what I have. I’ll explain what I’m still missing.”
She picked up a dry-erase marker, walked to a white board behind her desk, and drew a diagram.
“The money flows like this. On one end, you have the source.” She wrote “source” and drew a black circle around it.
“On the other end, you have the operations.” She wrote “operations” in red and drew a circle around it.
“In the middle, you have the wire transfers connecting them.” She drew a green line between “source” and “operations” and wrote “wire transfers” above it.
She tapped the left side of the diagram. “The source is the shell companies in Delaware. There are multiple names, and registered agents, but they all trace back to one entity. Ashcroft Holdings.” She wrote that above the word “source” on her diagram.
“The President and CEO is Victor Ashcroft.” She opened one of the folders and pulled out a glossy photograph, dropping it on the desk in front of them.
It was a man in his sixties with silver hair, wearing an expensive suit. “He comes from old money. Real estate, defense contracts, private equity. His net worth is somewhere north of two billion.”
“He’s the top-level funding for the Crown Mountain operations?” Siren asked, studying his face.
“I can’t prove it yet. But his holding company is at the center of every shell I’ve traced.”
Diana tapped the middle of her diagram that she’d labeled “wire transfers.”
“I have the wire transfers we subpoenaed before the FBI case was shut down.” She pulled out the printouts of banking documents. “My case got shut down before I could trace how the money moved.”
She tapped the right side of the diagram she’d labeled “operations.”
“This is my problem. I don’t know who runs Teton Resource Group.”
She pulled out another set of papers. “The registered agent is a law firm in Cheyenne that won’t return calls. The officer names are clearly pseudonyms. The annual filings are minimal.”
“The operation arm is the private military contractors who do the dirty work. But you can’t connect them to Ashcroft,” Siren said, following Diana’s logic.
“Exactly.” Diana was visibly frustrated. “I can prove that Ashcroft owns the shells that sent the money. I can prove Teton Resource Group received the money, but I can’t find who owns it. Or what Ashcroft is paying for.”
“These corporate filings. Do you have the original PDFs?” Reed asked, speaking for the first time.
Diana looked at him. “Yes. Why?”
“I’m curious about the metadata.”
She studied him for a moment and then woke up her monitor, pulling up the original files. She invited him behind her desk, and he took a seat, taking the mouse. Siren stood and watched over his shoulder as he clicked through.
“Let’s take a look at the Delaware shell filings.” He right clicked, opening the document properties.
The window showed the creation date, software used, and a string of characters. “See that string?” Reed asked, pointing. “That’s the system identifier. It’s a unique fingerprint from the machine that created the document.”
“Okay,” Diana said.
He opened a Delaware filing and found the same system identifier. “These were created on the same computer.” He looked through all the Delaware shells and found the same string.
“That confirms central coordination, but I already traced those to Ashcroft,” Diana said, disappointed.
“Let’s check Teton Resource Group filings,” he said.
Diana opened a different folder, and Reed began to look through the documents. He looked at the properties.
“It’s the same string,” he said.
“Oh my God,” Diana breathed. “This connects both sides of the financial pipeline. One source set created all of it.”
Reed stood and sat back down in the chair on the other side of the desk while Diana collapsed in her seat. Siren joined Reed, her mind reeling with the implications.
Ashcroft was not only funding the private military contractors who’d attacked her and Reed and who’d carried out the operations on Fate Mountain, he owned the company.
“So, we’ve found that Ashcroft owns and funds Teton Resource Group, but we still don’t know who runs it,” Siren said.
“The Major,” Reed said in a low voice.
“I’ve never heard reference to anyone with that title in relation to this case before today,” Diana said.
“Garrett knew the Major was connected to a private military contractor,” Siren said. “He just didn’t know which one. We need to find him. Figure out his real name. Find out what company Teton Resource Group is funding.”
Diana nodded. “That’s not something I can do.” She gathered her folders. “Take these. I have copies of everything. “Find the PMC. Identify the Major.”
Siren took the folders.
“When you find them,” Diana said. “I want to know.”
She met Diana’s eyes. “You’ll know.”
Siren and Reed walked back to the van, and she tossed him the keys. “You drive. I need to make a phone call.”
Reed pulled out of the garage and headed to the highway. Siren waited until they’d cleared downtown before pulling out one of her burner phones. Dom answered on the second ring.
She informed him of what had happened at the meeting with Diana.
“We still have to identify the PMC run by whoever is going by the Major,” she said.
“You need someone with access to that world,” Dom said.
“I have a contact,” Siren offered. “James Okonkwo in Chicago. We served in intelligence together. He does consulting work now, but he keeps his clearances active. Teton Resource Group is probably a subsidiary of whatever PMC is running Ashcroft’s operations arm.
James knows the structure of operations like these.
If anyone can look at the evidence we have and tell us who owns it, it’s him. ”
“Do it.” The line went dead.
“Chicago?” Reed asked.
“Chicago.”