Free The 13th Target by Mark de Castrique

connection to the pro-Fed, pro-secrecy side.”
    “I’m listening,” Sullivan said.
    “In 2011, after an extended court battle, the Federal Reserve was forced to reveal it provided billions of dollars to foreign-owned financial institutions during the meltdown of 2008. In fact, nine of the twelve largest payments went to foreign interests.”
    “I didn’t know that.”
    “Of course not. Makes for bad politics. You’re out of work, you’ve lost your house, and the government bailout goes to foreigners.”
    “What was their justification?”
    “These were financial firms doing business in the U.S. The impact of their failure would hurt Americans. I’m not saying that’s not a valid reason, but the court battle broke ninety-seven years of secrecy that hid the identity of foreign banks using our money, money we’re having to back with debt-generating U.S. securities.”
    “And you hate secrecy.”
    Sidney smiled. “I’m a journalist. I even carry a journal to prove it. Banks, Wall Street firms, and companies are owned by people. People who at the top make lots of money. That’s the arena you’re playing in, Detective Sullivan. That’s also your suspect pool.”
    “If Luguire was murdered,” Sullivan said.
    “If Luguire was murdered,” Sidney agreed. “And that’s the whole point of my being here. Was he?”
    Sullivan sighed. This reporter’s claims, wild as they sounded, couldn’t be rejected outright any more than Rusty Mullins’ claim of Luguire’s intention to be alive the next morning. But making a deal with Sidney Levine went against every instinct.
    “Look, I’m not going to be able to do what you want, at least not yet. The investigation is still in its early stages.”
    “At least not yet?” Sidney repeated the phrase most important to him.
    “I will say Paul Luguire exhibited certain behaviors last night that were not indicative of a man planning to take his own life.”
    “Such as?”
    “That’s for you to learn.”
    “Then who was with him last night?”
    “He had a driver provided by Prime Protection. Russell Mullins. You didn’t get his name from me.” Sullivan reached in his coat pocket and gave Sidney his card. “Call me if you come across something.”
    “Prime Protection. Sounds like they were sub-prime.”
    “A word of advice. Don’t start the interview that way. Mullins won’t talk to you. Or if he does, you won’t hear him because he’ll have knocked you unconscious.”
    Sidney tucked the card between the pages of his journal. “Know where I can reach him?”
    “Yeah, but only if you wait till tomorrow.”
    “Fair enough.”
    Sullivan gave him the address for Mullins’ Shirlington apartment, and then escorted him to the door of the police station. He watched him walk away in the opposite direction from the nearest Metro stop. He either drove a car or lived nearby. Sullivan would check him out in the morning.
    He returned to his desk and opened the case file for Rusty Mullins’ phone number. Mullins wasn’t the kind of guy to talk to the press, but Sidney Levine had said some very interesting things and he could be useful. Sullivan wanted a second opinion about that. Rusty Mullins was just the man to give it.

Chapter Fourteen
    “Paw Paw!” Josh squealed the words as he leaned over the back of the sofa and peered out the front window.
    As Mullins parked his Prius, he caught a glimpse of his excited grandson. The beaming face of the boy magically lightened the weight he’d carried since Detective Sullivan called him with the news of Luguire’s death.
    Mullins picked up the CVS bag from the passenger seat. After dropping Amanda Church at her car the night before, he’d gone to the store and purchased a Nerf baseball, something Josh could carry to the T-ball game. Luguire’s twin grandsons wouldn’t be there, but Mullins felt an obligation to carry through with the last plan he and Luguire had made.
    Mullins pressed the buzzer by his daughter’s condo