Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

“This is not an amateur scam. These licenses are the best I have ever seen. They pass all the standard database checks and the quality of workmanship is outstanding. A highly professional job, probably done in China. I’m guessing we got lucky stopping one shipment of many that have already gotten through. That’s multiple identities for potentially thousands of people.” Chapman paused. “Dan, you know what that could mean, right?”

“I get it. Old-school money laundering on a massive scale,” Lazlo answered. “An army of people using fake identities to open numerous bank accounts, then deposit dirty money daily into them, below the ten-thousand-dollar laundering alert threshold, online and as walk-ins. We’re talking millions being washed,” Lazlo continued, his interest now piqued.

“Yes, and we think we know who they’re doing it for.” Chapman paused. “We got a facial recognition match on a couple of photos from the fake IDs that didn’t match the profile of the others: a drug dealer and a money launderer. Both are known to work with your man Miguel Vargas, Mr. Untouchable.”

“Not so untouchable now,” Lazlo corrected, “I’ve got one of his men under arrest for murder. It’s just a question of time before I bring him down, piece by piece.” His tone changed to one of warning as he added, “And I don’t need the FBI storming in and busting apart my hard work over some fake IDs that you think might be linked to Vargas.”

“You know as well as I do, if we can link the IDs to El Gordito it becomes a federal matter, Dan, and if El Gordito is operating across more than one state, it’s our jurisdiction.”

“Got it! I fucking understand what federal means, Lee,” said Lazlo in frustration. And he hung up. “Shit!”

John tried to process what he had just heard. Lazlo had clearly become too preoccupied with bringing down El Gordito on his own without anyone else interfering. Lazlo’s secret room, and the research on El Gordito that it contained, had initially seemed to John like a key asset in his quest to bring down Vargas, but now they seemed to be signs of a troubling obsession.

It was also clear that the FBI would only get involved when they could link the fake IDs to El Gordito, but that might take some time, particularly if Lazlo wasn’t going to cooperate because of an ego trip. Putting all this together, the conclusion was simple: John had to get the FBI involved in some other way—and he had to do it now. Lazlo’s plan to bring down El Gordito would take too long.

Lazlo arrived at the precinct, followed by John, an hour before Hernandez’s arraignment at 10:00 a.m.

Soon after, John heard the detective say to his colleagues that he was leaving for the courthouse. On his way out, John saw Lazlo stop by the captain’s office, but the captain seemed to be too involved with a call to want to talk to him.

John felt there was too much risk involved now in following Lazlo. He needed to think of a plan, rest, and recharge. And he also wanted to see Jennifer and her father again, to make sure they were OK. He considered a janitor’s cupboard to be safe, like the one he’d found at the hospital way back when all this began, so he found one in the main corridor, slipping through the door when he was sure he hadn’t been observed by any other spirits in the station.

As he crashed onto the floor, feeling increasingly exhausted, his thoughts turned again to Jennifer. If he was still capable of having a nightmare, it would be about losing her, about never being able to hold her, to kiss her––being destined to watch her grow old, never again able to experience the fragrant heat and softness of her body while his own mortal body withered.

When John awoke, he had no idea how much time had passed. But he found that Lazlo had returned from the arraignment and was sitting at his desk talking to Markle, who was sitting opposite at his own desk. John got the impression that they had already discussed the arraignment and he had missed it.

“Lazlo, you’re a goddamn liability most of the time but…” This was said in a thick Brooklyn accent belonging to one of the detectives in the bullpen, who had paused theatrically after walking up to Lazlo’s desk.

“But what?” Lazlo demanded defensively.

“But good work getting Hernandez sent down for trial, man! Arresting El Gordito and his men yesterday, just before the hearing into the health department’s closure of the clubs, was great timing!” The cop with the Brooklyn accent gave a throaty laugh, making his belly advance farther over his belt.

John swelled with optimism on hearing the news. El Gordito’s No. 2 would continue to be out of action.

“Yeah,” Lazlo acknowledged. “They had to move the hearing on the nightclub closures to this afternoon as El Gordito and his lawyer needed to be present for the arraignment this morning. I have the D.A. to thank for that. Every extra day of pain for El Gordito is worthwhile.” At which point he looked over at the stuffed head of El Gordito’s behatted, porcine namesake mounted on the wall.

“But all good things have to come to an end, my friend. My contact, who’s on the panel at the hearing, said they plan to change the hygiene rating from Grade C to a Grade B at the hearing today while the clubs work on the improvements. It means that they can soon re-open. The one time the health department gets enough violations to close El Gordito’s clubs, and that’s when the records go missing? Is there anyone here who doesn’t think El Gordito got to someone at the health department?”

The guy with the Brooklyn accent gave a knowing smile, shrugged, and went back to his desk.

Lazlo looked at Markle. “It had to happen, but it wouldn’t hurt to have the guys here on our side for once,”