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tched the empty beach below as the sun slowly disappeared on the horizon。 Aaron Rimmer walked through the sliding glass door and stopped behind DeVasher。 〃We found Tolar；〃 Rimmer said。
DeVasher did not move。 〃Where？〃
〃Hiding in his girlfriend's apartment in Memphis。〃
〃Was he alone？〃
〃Yeah。 They iced him。 Made it look like a robbery。〃
In Room 39； Ray inspected for the hundredth time the new passports； visas； driver's licenses and birth certificates。 The passport photos for Mitch and Abby were current； with plenty of dark hair。 After the escape； time would take care of the blondness。 Ray's photo was a slightly altered Harvard Law School mug shot of Mitch； with the long hair； stubble and rough academic looks。 The eyes； noses and cheekbones were similar； after careful analysis； but nothing else。 The documents were in the names of Lee Stevens； Rachel James and Sam Fortune； all with addresses in Murfreesboro； Tennessee。 Doc did good work； and Ray smiled as he studied each one。
Abby packed the Sony video camera into its box。 The tripod was folded and leaned against the wall。 Fourteen vid…eocassette tapes with stick…on labels were stacked neatly on the television。
After sixteen hours； the video deposition was over。 Starting with the first tape； Mitch had faced the camera； raised his right hand and sworn to tell the truth。 He stood next to the dresser with documents covering the floor around him。 Using Tammy's notes； summaries and flowcharts； he methodically walked through the bank records first。 He identified over two hundred and fifty secret accounts in eleven Cayman banks。 Some had names； but most were just numbered。 Using copies of puter printouts； he constructed the histories of the accounts。 Cash deposits； wire transfers and withdrawals。 At the bottom of each document used in his deposition； he wrote with a black marker the initials MM and then the exhibit number： MM1； MM2； MM3 and so on。 After Exhibit MM1485； he had identified nine hundred million dollars hiding in Cayman banks。
After the bank records； he painstakingly pieced together the structure of the empire。 In twenty years； more than four hundred Cayman corporations had been chartered by the Moroltos and their incredibly rich and incredibly corrupt attorneys。 Many of the corporations owned all or pieces of each other and used the banks as registered agents and permanent addresses。 Mitch learned quickly that he had only a fraction of the records and speculated； on camera； that most documents were hidden in the basement in Memphis。 He also explained； for the benefit of the jury； that it would take a small army of IRS investigators a year or so to piece together the Morolto corporate puzzle。 He slowly explained each exhibit； marked it carefully and filed it away。 Abby operated the camera。 Ray watched the parking lot and studied the fake passports。
He testified for six hours on various methods used by the Moroltos and their attorneys to turn dirty money into clean。 Easily the most favored method was to fly in a load of dirty cash on a Bendini plane； usually with two or three lawyers on board to legitimate the trip。 With dope pouring in by land； air and sea； U。S。 customs cares little about what's leaving the country。 It was a perfect setup。 The planes left dirty and came back clean。 Once the money landed on Grand Cayman； a lawyer on board handled the required payoffs to Cayman customs and to the appropriate banker。 On some loads； up to twenty…five percent went for bribes。
Once deposited； usually in unnamed； numbered accounts； the money became almost impossible to trace。 But many of the bank transactions coincided nicely with significant corporate events。 The money was usually deposited into one of a dozen numbered holding accounts。 Or 〃super accounts；〃 as Mitch called them。 He gave the jury these account numbers； and the names of the banks。 Then； as the new corporations were chartered； the money was transferred from the super accounts to the corporate accounts； often in the same bank。 Once the dirty money was owned by a legitimate Cayman corporation； the laundering began。 The simplest and most mon method was for the pany to purchase real estate and other clean assets in the United States。 The transactions were handled by the creative attorneys at Bendini； Lambert & Locke； and all money moved by wire transfer。 Often； the Cayman corporation would purchase another Cayman corporation that happened to own a Panama corporation that owned a holding pany in Denmark。 The Danes would purchase a ball…bearing factory in Toledo and wire in the purchase money from a subsidiary bank in Munich。 And the dirty money was now clean。
After marking Exhibit MM4292； Mitch quit the deposition。 Sixteen hours of testimony was enough。 It would not be admissible at trial； but it would serve its purpose。 Tar…ranee and his buddies could show the tapes to a grand jury and indict at least thirty lawyers from the Bendini firm。 He could show the tapes to a federal magistrate and get his search warrants。
Mitch had held to his end of the bargain。 Although he would not be around to testify in person； he had been paid only a million dollars and was about to deliver more than was expected。 He was physically and emotionally drained； and sat on the edge of the bed with the lights off。 Abby sat in a chair with her eyes closed。
Ray peeked through the blinds。 〃We need a cold beer；〃 he said。
〃Forget it；〃 Mitch snapped。
Ray turned and stared at him。 〃Relax； little brother。 It's dark； and the store is just a short walk down the beach。 I can take care of myself。〃
〃Forget it； Ray。 There is no need to take chances。 We're leaving in a few hours； and if all goes well； you'll have the rest of your life to drink beer。〃
Ray was not listening。 He pulled a baseball cap firmly over his forehead； stuck some cash in his pockets and reached for the gun。
〃Ray； please； at least forget the gun；〃 Mitch pleaded。
Ray stuck the gun under his shirt and eased out the door。 He walked quickly in the sand behind the small motels and shops； hiding in the shadows and craving a cold beer。 He stopped behind the convenience store； looked quickly around and was certain no one was watching； then walked to the front door。 The beer cooler was in the rear。
In the parking lot next to the Strip； Lamar Quin hid under a large straw hat and made small talk with some teenagers from Indiana。 He saw Ray enter the store and thought he might recognize something。 There was a casualness about the man's stride that looked vaguely familiar。 Lamar moved to the front window and glanced in the direction of the beer cooler。 The man's eyes were covered with sunglasses； but the nose and cheekbones were certainly familiar。 Lamar eased inside the small store and picked up a sack of potato chips。 He waited at the checkout counter and came face…to…face with the man； who was not Mitchell McDeere but greatly resembled him。
It was Ray。 It had to be。 The face was sunburned； and the hair was too short to be stylish。 The eyes were covered。 Same height。 Same weight。 Same walk。
〃How's it going？〃 Lamar said to the man。
〃Fine。 You？〃 the voice was similar。
Lamar paid for his chip