Free Collision Course by Desiree Holt Page A

organizations he’d found in the few files
he’d been able to open already. He got exactly what he’d thought—nothing. The
information was a work of fiction.
    When the
waitress with the tantalizing scent and flawless skin—Jesus, Trey—had cleared
away his debris, he opened an online storage site. Setting up an account in the
name of Alexandre Dumas—he’d always loved The Three Musketeers—he used one of
the programs he’d downloaded to set up an encrypted password. It would be candy
to a top cryptologist, but the average person—hopefully even Bennett’s IT
person—would have a hard time with it. He’d be storing any information he found
in the folders he created and if someone wanted it they’d have to work hard to
get it.
    Next, he
hacked through the first of the firewalls again and opened the Funda files he’d
been working on before his wild ride. Then, fueled by the hot, fresh coffee, he
went over everything again, detail by detail, trying to follow the financial
transactions and identify both donors and recipients. He had to run each
interior file through decryption programs, which took time, something he didn’t
think he had much of. Plus, he couldn’t sit there staring at the screen, while
the strings of numbers scrolled past him. To give the appearance of actively
working he began constructing a report to include everything he knew about BGE
and what led him to trace the files.
    His
process was slow and methodical, uncovering each bit of information, as an
archeologist exposes antiquities in a dig, one item at a time. Even the small
amount of information he’d already retrieved sickened him.
    By noon,
he’d managed to get through the majority of the Funda files. Deciphering the
first five, he discovered a sophisticated system of money laundering that
defied detection unless someone knew to look for it. Thank god he’d taken a
course in his master’s program on how businesses launder money and how it
affects the economy. It made spotting it and following the threads easier than
he expected. And while still a dragged out process, the more he worked at it,
the more the familiar tricks came back to him.
    Opening
a blank document, he created a chart to help him trace the funds in the
Foundation account. Company A bought a building from Company B with cashier’s
checks. Company B then obtained the money for repairs, maintenance, whatever,
from Companies C, D, and E. Some of them were even under the BGE umbrella,
giving them large infusions of cash. The other firms made substantial
philanthropic contributions to organizations like the Nicholas Funda
Foundation. The Foundation funneled the money to the overseas banks Bennett
held a controlling interest in. At first glance, one would think the funds were
for the construction of schools or hospitals or to support food programs.
    But a
careful search of the Internet turned up nothing on the companies listed.
Neither they nor any of the recipients seemed to exist. Studying the areas of
the world to which the money had been diverted, one could reasonably to assume
the funds were used for drugs, illegal arms, control of Third World countries….
And who knew what else. What he needed were specific names to go with the distributions.
They had to be in there somewhere, although Trey had a feeling they were
protected by yet another code. He’d have to dig much deeper and see how hard it
would be to get in. It was possible yet another firewall protected them.
    Going
further into the structure and trying to decipher the additional embedded codes
might be more than his skills could handle. Maybe he’d leave Funda for a moment
and start digging through one of the other special accounts.
    When he
took a break for lunch, he shut the programs down and turned off the computer.
Would he even be able to eat, the way his nerves were jumping around and with
the sick feeling gripping him? Still, he needed to quit for a while. He flexed
his cramped fingers to restore