“Some information hit my desk this morning that might prove useful in your search for Tara Emsworth.”
“Go ahead.”
“It’s about her father. Richard Emsworth was about to be indicted when he disappeared.”
“For?”
“Wire fraud, mainly, but to the tune of millions of dollars. The thing that makes it even more interesting is there is also a pending enterprise corruption charge.”
Enterprise corruption was defined as participating in a pattern of criminal activity and knowingly investing proceeds from that conduct into another enterprise. The charge was typically a euphemism for the accused having ties to organized crime, specifically, the Mafia.
“You said he disappeared. When was that?” I asked.
“The last confirmed report of his whereabouts was from the day before Thanksgiving.”
“Tara went missing that day.”
“You think they took off together?”
“That’s one theory. Why’d it hit your desk?”
“In addition to the investigation here in the States, AISE has their own inquisition into Emsworth’s crimes. My guess is I’ll be hearing from Interpol next.”
The Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna, or AISE as Money referred to them, was Italy’s version of the CIA. Interpol, whose official abbreviation was ICPO-INTERPOL, was the international organization that facilitated worldwide police cooperation and crime control.
“Is CIA involvement official, then?”
“Just waiting for final sign off.”
“Thanks, Money.”
“Halo, there’s one more thing. It’s actually the reason for my call. You asked about the daughter’s financial records.”
“Did you find anything?”
“At the same time the indictment was about to be handed down, the father’s assets were frozen. I started tracking his prior money trail, and while he’s covered his tracks pretty damn well, something turned up in Switzerland. Right before Christmas, a young woman matching Tara’s description came in and made a significant cash withdrawal.”
When my call ended with McTiernan, I immediately called Striker and relayed what I’d learned.
“This presents an interesting scenario, doesn’t it?” Striker murmured.
“How do you want me to proceed?”
“Let me get back to you on that.”
I was still sitting in the same coffee shop, studying the photos that were part of the dossier I’d been given on Tara, when Striker called back.
“I had Doc contact McTiernan, and we’ve been approved to conduct a ‘fact-finding mission’ on Emsworth, officially the father, on behalf of the CIA.”
I sent a silent plea, hoping he was about to tell me I’d been assigned to it. Sure enough, my prayer was answered.
“Where am I headed?”
“Italy. Tuscany, specifically.”
6
Tara