“Devine, there is one thing that drives our politics. It’s simple and out in the open and yet most people never give it a second thought: money. It used to be that the sources of political funding were severely limited, and those sources also had to be disclosed. That is no longer the case.” He leaned forward. “So, let me tell both of you why my humble office is really interested in Cowl and Comely.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “We think Cowl is the key link in not just laundering money and buying parts of this country by global players all over the world, but some of the money—billions and billions of it—is going into the coffers of public officials at every level, from local to federal. Now, people do not give that sort of money without expecting something in return. That means that what was revealed in the Pandora Papers and like investigations is just the beginning. The laundered money is being weaponized to really take over this country at all levels.”
Montgomery said, “I thought there were, like, laws against that kind of stuff?”
“But if you have enough money, the laws don’t apply to you,” answered Campbell. “And certain people, some of them in high positions of power, want it to keep going. Certain others don’t want this to be uncovered and investigated because they would be directly implicated.”
“So, what do we do?” asked Devine.
“Solve this thing before they pull our plug. However, I do have one lead for you.”
“What is it?” asked Devine.
“The brownstone on the Upper East Side owned by the Locust Group?”
“The one my good buddy Christian Chilton presumably lives in,” said Devine, glancing at Montgomery, who looked uncomfortable at this change in the conversation’s direction.
“We put it under surveillance after you told us about the connection. Two people who are on an Interpol ‘keep eyes on’ list were seen entering and leaving the premises.”
“And you couldn’t grab them?” asked Montgomery.
“We had no legal grounds to do so. But these are bad people.”
“Do we know if anyone else lives there with Chilton?” asked Devine.
Montgomery answered. “His grandfather, Carroll Chilton, did. We called him Poppy. But I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Was the brownstone Carroll Chilton’s and then he sold it to Locust?” said Devine.
Campbell nodded. “From what we could uncover, yes. For three times what it’s worth. And it might have been his grandson who actually sold it.”
Devine and Montgomery exchanged glances. He said, “Maybe I should go check the place out.”
“Maybe you should.”
Devine and Montgomery rose. Devine looked at her and said, “I’ll drop you off at your place in town.”
“I’m going with you.”
“I can’t let you do that, Michelle.”
Campbell said, “He’s right, Ms. Montgomery. That is not possible.”
“Either you let me go, or I’ll just show up there on my own.”
Devine said, “I’m dropping you off. Let’s go.”
He grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room.
When they were outside, she yanked her arm free and said, “Look, you son of a bitch, you can’t tell me what—”
“Shut up and get on the bike. That was for the general’s benefit. You’re coming.”
Montgomery closed her mouth, put on her helmet, and they rode off.
CHAPTER
67
THEY PARKED ACROSS FROM THE brownstone.
“That’s Chilton’s BMW in front,” observed Devine.
“I’ve known Christian since we were kids. He’s not some criminal.”
“He told me he’s running Mayflower. His grandfather started it, and he’s his generation’s representative. What do you remember about his father and grandfather?”
“Mr. Chilton was a decent guy. Always nice to me. Christian’s grandfather, Poppy Chilton, was incredibly kind. He would play games with us and read to us. Those were really happy times.”
“And they had money?”
“Oh yeah. Lots.”
“A ton of it? I mean, like Cowl?”
“No, not like that. They . . . they actually had to let my parents go when I was sixteen. The cars had dwindled down to just two. My dad didn’t just work on the cars, he would chauffeur them around, too. The kids had grown up, of course, and my mother acted as a housekeeper and such. But I guess they couldn’t afford her anymore, either.”