Chapter 595: Chapter 595 Cornered
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[Date: Fri 12/06/2020 | Time: 14:35 PM | Location: Rose Isle, Florida – Parker Villa]
POV: Special Agent Greg Stones, FBI White Collar Division
Following a hefty blow of the battering ram, the villa doors blew open like they were paper under a storm. "FBI! IRS! SEC! This is a joint federal operation—hands where we can see them!"
The loud shattering sound of a crystal bowl resounded in the house as the shocked expression of a Black haired woman greeted him. She looked shell-shocked on the open walkway leading from the living room to the kitchen. She was pretty for sure, but that had become a matter of course for these types of houses for me, so I had become desensitised to it.
I moved forward, my boots pounding the marble with methodical control as his team fanned out across the grand foyer. A careless agent knocked over a glass sculpture, which shattered as the first wave of agents cleared the entrance, guns sweeping each opening, securing corners. "Ma’am, we are executing an arrest and search warrant for Victor Parker." I calmly stated as I walked towards her, documents already in hand.
She subconsciously grasped them, and he simply turned, ready to signal my men to head upstairs and secure the target. That’s when something unexpected happened: the sound of shoes hitting the marble floor, and the centre of an expensive cigar hit them. Descending with steady steps, dressed in a loose light grey polo, beige khakis, and a pair of matching oxfords was Victor, their target.
He took in puffs of his cigar with every two steps, his left hand bearing an old silver Rolex in his pants pocket. He looked the furthest from a man being arrested, but more like royalty descending to greet dignitaries. "Mr. Parker," my partner Lilly Becket began, gun still raised at the man who continued his descent, not the least fidgeted.
"You are under arrest for federal securities fraud, wire fraud, conspiracy to commit money laundering, and obstruction of justice." Victor exhaled, clipped the cigar back into the bannister, on the two-meter balcony at the halfway point of the stairs.
He glanced past us toward his wife, who followed the usual script for a worried wife who knew their life had just been majorly railroaded. "Victor, what’s—"
"Shhh." He gently voiced. "Just breathe. Go upstairs. Take care of the kids and Bridget, you know how she can be. Oh, and let May know when you get a chance. Even though she is mad at me, I know she’ll be worried if she sees this on the news."
Glancing at the woman a few paces from me, who had been on the verge of a breakdown, recovery brought a frown to her face. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Deciding I’d tackle this later, I turned to the matter at hand. "I guess we should go back to you guys arresting, right?" Victor asked, looking defeated, but from my eyes I could tell he had been expecting, no, had been waiting for this moment.
As he threw his hands up, he descended the rest of the stairs, letting the aiting against cuff him without resistance. "Quite the turnout, Agennn’t Becket. What do you guys get a medal or a pat on the back if this ticks?"
~~~
[Time: 16:50 PM | Location: FBI Temporary Holding – Jacksonville Field Office]
I’d done a lot of interviews in my career—bankers, CEOs, cartel-connected accountants, even a psychic once—so I had Victor Parker figured out within the first thirty minutes of observing through the glass. Like most men who had achieved high-ranking positions, he gave off a presence as if he owned the room.
Unlike them, though, he didn’t have the slightest hint of panic of someone who had been caught with his pants down. Usually, when CEOs get brought in for these kinds of charges, they know we have evidence; otherwise, we’d send in the police for a fishing expedition. So most would be racking their brains trying to weasel their way out, but Victor hadn’t even asked for his phone call yet.
According to state law, he had three hours to make it, and we had informed him of such, but he had yet to budge. "Danm, this is the mother load, can’t believe he had all this stuff just sitting in his office." Mike Santos, the lead IRS agent, exclaimed as he and his team were going through one of the 20 boxes that they had secured.
"No shit, we practically don’t even need to interrogate him with this, we should just ask for a confession." James Parker, the SEC investigator, stated as he and his team went over a financial file. "I know you guys want to pin this guy down for a Rico case and lord knows what other angle, but we can easily wrap things up with this."
"Partner, don’t you get a strange feeling from all this?" Becket asked from my side, now standing next to me as we gazed at the calm figure behind the glass. "From our investigations, this guy is meticulous when it comes to covering his trail, so us finding so much..."
She didn’t finish her words, but I knew what she was getting at. This entire situation felt too coordinated, almost scripted, in the way it unfolded. "Yeah, this might be tricky, Beck. Looks like Carter’s assessment of his personality was way off. This guy is a deep thinker, and as far as I’m concerned, he orchestrated this entire meeting with an agenda."
"Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched? Since when do con men hand themselves in? This isn’t Hollywood." She retorted, not believing my deduction.
"Honestly, that wouldn’t surprise me." I retorted with a half smile, feeling my inquisitive side being piqued. "The only question is why he wanted to be arrested in here and not in NewYork."
"Whatever, it’s been over two hours," she muttered without looking away from the glass. "You’d think he’d want to call his wife or a fixer."
"That’s what bothers me," I said. "He’s waiting for something... or someone."
Just then, the door creaked open, and Mike Santos waltzed in, holding an open manila folder stuffed with some of the preliminary logs. The IRS agent was burly, loud, and about as subtle as a jackhammer. "Found another LLC that looped back to Atlas Fund Cayman," he said, eyes flicking toward the holding room. "Guess who signed off on it?"
"Victor," I replied without hesitation.
He nodded. "Bingo. The laundering borders on artistry, involving multiple channels that ultimately lead back to the fund. My guys say if we didn’t have the road map, we wouldn’t even be able to connect the dots, let alone find our way from A to B."
Before I could respond, James Parker barged in, following a quick set of knocks. "A suit named Harold McIntyre, from Jackson, Peter, & McIntyre legal counsel on behalf of Atlas Fund LP, is here asking to see his client."
"Alright, let’s give them a couple of minutes before we get this party on the road. We will handle the first round of questioning since you both have your teams having a field day with the files." I stated as one of the officers opened the door for the lawyer to enter the interrogation room, finally eliciting a reaction from Victor.
"Mr McIntyre can’t say I was expecting you, though I’m not surprised." He stated in a cold tone as he turned to face the man.
~~~
[Time: 17:07 PM | Location: Interrogation Room A – FBI Jacksonville Field Office]
"Alright, Mr Parker, now that you have legal representation, we can finally begin with our questioning," Becket said, placing a stack of files on the metal table as she looked at the man opposite her.
"Sure, sure, before that, I have a few questions for my dear lawyer here," Victor interjected, stopping Lilly before she could get into full swing; however, his words caused his McIntyre to turn his head in surprise.
The man was refined-looking, every bit the sophisticated man his stature ought to look like. "Whom do you represent?" Victor asked with an almost bored expression.
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To Be Continued...