Chapter 88 - The Cold Safehouse in Seville
We disembarked at the port of Tarifa without incident. With the international arrest warrants hitting the European Interpol wires, Roland’s local assets had scattered like roaches when the lights flickered on. Lind managed to rent an unmarked silver Volkswagen using clean identification, and by nightfall, we were driving through the orange-tree-lined avenues of Seville.
The safehouse was a narrow, third-floor flat in the historic Santa Cruz neighborhood, rented under the name of an inactive maritime corporation Lind had maintained for decades. The rooms smelled of dry cedar and old paper. Heavy wooden shutters blocked out the street lamps below.
Lind sank into an armchair, his face pale from exhaustion and blood loss. I walked into the small kitchen, brewed a pot of bitter black coffee, and brought two mugs back into the parlor.
"The federal task force confirmed receipt of Arthur’s ledger cipher," I said, setting the mug on the low table between us. "Patrice says the asset freeze is total. Roland’s private jet in Madrid was impounded an hour ago. He’s stuck in North Africa with no passport and frozen accounts."
"Roland still has cash reserves in Tangier," Lind warned, sipping his coffee slowly. "A man like him has enough illicit wealth buried in safe-deposit boxes to purchase a passage back into the States on a cargo ship if he gets desperate enough."
"Let him try," I said. "He’s an old man with a cane and a ruined reputation. He won't survive forty-eight hours in federal holding once they process him."
I set Arthur's ledger down on the table. The cover was stained with grease and sea salt, the spine split along the bottom seam.
"Why did you help Arthur?" I asked Lind, looking directly into his weathered eyes. "You weren't on his payroll. You were an independent auditor."
Lind paused, staring into the dark surface of his coffee. "Arthur discovered Roland was laundering money for human trafficking networks through the shipping lanes in the nineties. Arthur tried to pull out, and Roland threatened to destroy you and Caleb. Arthur came to me because he needed someone outside the corporate structure who could preserve the evidence until Roland was vulnerable."
Lind met my gaze. "Arthur didn't run away, Myrna. He spent his final two years building a fortress of paper to keep Roland away from your porch."
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"And Roland almost took it down using my own family," I murmured.
***
