Colorado Abduction - By Cassie Miles & Marie Ferrarella Page 0,38
he was eighteen,” Corelli said. “Shoplifting, vagrancy, DUIs. He served two years in prison for assault.”
The reassurance she’d felt when looking at Butch turned into dread. If Nicole was in the clutches of Richter, things couldn’t be good. “What about the rest of the SOF men?”
“Minor charges, here and there. One dishonorable discharge from the military. They’re low-level, petty criminals,” Burke said. “Amazingly, Sam Logan has a clean record, apart from one arrest for fraud that never resulted in trial because the woman he’d stolen from dropped the charges.”
She wasn’t surprised. “Logan can be charming.”
Burke scoffed, “Ready for more information?”
“I suppose.”
He waved his hand like a magician going for the big reveal. “Okay, Corelli. Show her the money.”
The Sons of Freedom bank statement appeared on the screen.
“Wait a minute.” Carolyn averted her gaze. “Can you do this without a warrant? Is this even legal?”
“Corelli knows how to follow protocol and he’s a talented hacker.”
On the screen, she read the balance in the account. “One thousand two hundred dollars? How can Logan support all those people on that amount? There must be another account.”
“Nope,” Burke said. “No other account in Sam Logan’s name. Nothing else for the SOF.”
“Credit cards? Loans?”
“Nothing.”
Corelli flipped through a series of other financial documents while he explained, “Here’s how it works. Before a bill comes due, Logan deposits just enough money—in cash—to cover the check. Always in cash.”
Finances were Carolyn’s area of expertise. When taking on a new supplier for Carlisle Certified Organic Beef, she carefully reviewed all their financial documents. “Seems like a clever way to avoid paying taxes. If he only balances out with small amounts, he can claim it all comes from contributions.”
“Good insight,” Burke said. “Source of income is the important factor. It’s hard to know exactly how the SOF makes their money when everything is on a cash basis.”
“I’m not a forensic accountant,” Corelli said, “but I feel safe in assuming that Logan has a boatload of cash that isn’t banked.”
“That might explain the security cameras,” she said, “and the heavy-duty firepower at the SOF compound. They’re afraid of being robbed.”
Burke raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Let’s not characterize Logan as a little old man who stuffs his mattress with ten-dollar bills. He needs his guards to keep his business secret, to protect his little kingdom.”
“From what?”
“Feds like me,” Burke said. “Whatever he’s buying and selling is illegal. Could be weapons, could be drugs, could be any number of black-market items that would be highly interesting to the DEA or Homeland Security.”
Though Carolyn agreed that Logan was probably involved in some kind of illegal activity, she didn’t think of her former fiancé as a terrorist. “Logan isn’t that clever.”
“He’s no mastermind,” Burke agreed. “But he could be working for one. His compound could be one stop on a distribution chain.”
She didn’t like the picture he was painting, especially didn’t like the thought that Nicole might be in the middle of this spider’s web. Not to mention the other innocent women and children.
They needed to get everyone out of there, starting tonight with Sunny.
TWELVE MINUTES BEFORE the midnight meet with Sunny, Burke lay on his belly in the cold, dead grass outside the west field bordering the Circle M. He peered through infrared, heat-sensing binoculars at a stand of pine trees, watching for any sign of movement. From this vantage point, he couldn’t see any of the buildings of the SOF compound. Except for the clump of pines, this field was flat and featureless.
Carolyn crouched beside him, hiding behind the bared branches of a shrub. His backup—Neville and Silverman—were both heavily armed. They’d separated and found their own hiding spots, fading into the landscape. The only way Burke could see them was through the heat-sensing binoculars.
He didn’t like this setup. With very little cover, they were exposed to the possibility of ambush. If Logan and his men charged toward them on horseback, escape would be difficult. They’d parked a couple of hundred yards away, and he didn’t like their chances for a safe retreat if they were outnumbered and attacked with a barrage of bullets from semiautomatic weapons.
He especially hated that Carolyn was here. She’d insisted on being part of this operation, dug in her heels. He’d wanted to pull rank, reminding her that he was in charge. But her argument made too much sense. If, in fact, Sunny truly wanted to escape from the Circle M, she’d be alarmed if she didn’t see Carolyn—the person she trusted.
He glanced toward his companion. Dressed all