Chapter 2 - The Man Who Wouldn't Take His Money
By noon, Daniel Mercer knew more about Jack Hayes than he had known at breakfast.
And somehow, Jack made even less sense.
Daniel canceled three meetings, locked the doors to his private office, and assigned his longtime security director, Rachel Kim, one task.
“Find everything.”
Rachel had worked for Daniel for eleven years.
Former federal investigator.
Unimpressed by wealth.
Almost impossible to surprise.
But she looked surprised now.
“Everything about a homeless veteran?”
“Jack Hayes. Sixty-seven. Army.”
“Reason?”
Daniel stared through the glass wall overlooking Chicago.
“He's wearing my father's watch.”
Rachel waited.
“My father was buried with it.”
That was enough.
Two hours later, she returned with a thin preliminary file.
“Jack Arthur Hayes. Born in Peoria. Army enlistment at nineteen. Military police first, then logistics support. Two deployments overseas. Honorable discharge.”
Daniel skimmed.
“After the Army?”
“Private security. Corporate risk consulting. Worked several contracts in Chicago in the late nineties and early two-thousands.”
Daniel stopped.
“For whom?”
Rachel turned a page.
“Among others, Mercer Financial.”
Daniel's eyes lifted.
“Directly?”
“Subcontractor.”
“When?”
She gave him a date range.
It included the year Thomas Mercer supposedly died.
Daniel leaned back.
“So he could have known my father.”
“Yes.”
“What happened afterward?”
Rachel hesitated.
“His record gets messy.”
“Meaning?”
“Hayes was investigated for theft of confidential financial documents two years after your father's death.”
Daniel's stomach tightened.
“Convicted?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Charges were dropped.”
“Then what destroyed him?”
“Professional blacklisting. Divorce. Tax liens. Foreclosure about eight years ago. Veteran benefits dispute. Multiple shelter records. No violent offenses. No drug charges.”
Daniel frowned.
“Financial theft allegations.”
“Yes.”
“He conveniently has my father's watch.”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like a thief.”
Rachel closed the file.
“It also sounds like somebody who was accused but never convicted.”
Daniel glanced at her.
“You believe him?”
“I haven't met him.”
Daniel looked again at the snow outside.
“Find him.”
They located Jack that afternoon inside a church basement two miles west of downtown.
Daniel entered wearing a dark wool coat.
Jack sat at a folding table eating soup.
He did not look impressed.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Daniel sat opposite him.
“I know you worked for Mercer Financial.”
Jack continued eating.
“You paid someone to find that out?”
“I didn't have to.”
“Must be nice.”
Daniel ignored the comment.
“You were accused of stealing company records.”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Convenient.”
Jack set down his spoon.
“You didn't come here to ask questions. You came here to prove yourself right.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“You show up wearing my dead father's watch and tell me my uncle lied to me for twenty-two years.”
“I didn't show up anywhere. I've been sitting on that corner for four months. You finally looked.”
The sentence irritated Daniel because it was true.
He pulled an envelope from his coat.
Jack sighed.
“Again?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
The veteran stared at the envelope.
“For what?”
“The watch. And everything you know.”
Jack pushed the envelope back with one finger.
“You really believe money makes people honest.”
“No. I believe money makes people talk.”
“It makes some people talk.”
Jack returned to his soup.
“It made your uncle very talkative.”
Daniel stiffened.
“What does that mean?”
Jack did not answer.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“You accused Richard of conspiracy.”
“I said your father discovered one.”
“Who else was involved?”
“When you're ready, I'll tell you what I know.”
“I am ready.”
“No.”
Daniel's jaw flexed.
Jack looked at him.
“You're angry because something has disrupted your version of the world. That's not the same as being ready.”
Daniel stood.
“I don't need a lecture.”
“Then sit down.”
Daniel almost walked away.
Instead, he sat.
Jack studied him.
“Your father once told me your biggest weakness was needing an answer before understanding the question.”
Daniel's throat tightened.
“That sounds like him.”
“I know.”
Jack reached beneath his coat.
Daniel tensed.
Jack removed a small plastic pouch.
Inside was a key.
Old brass.
Number 317 stamped into it.
Daniel stared.
“What is that?”
“Your father gave it to me with the watch.”
“Key to what?”
“I didn't know then.”
“And now?”
“I know enough.”
Jack slid it across the table.
Daniel picked it up.
317.
“Why give this to me?”
“Because you need to start proving things yourself.”
“Where does it go?”
“Union Station.”
Daniel frowned.
“There are thousands of lockers, storage rooms—”
“There used to be private long-term deposit boxes in a secured baggage annex.”
“Used to be?”
“Most were closed years ago.”
Daniel stared at the key.
“Number 317?”
Jack nodded.
“What’s inside?”
“I never opened it.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Twenty-two years and you never checked?”
“Your father told me it wasn't mine to open.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“And you always obey instructions?”
Jack's eyes hardened.
“When following them keeps a boy alive, yes.”
Daniel stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Jack leaned back.
“Thomas believed the people watching him would eventually watch you.”
“Who?”
“I told you. You're not ready.”
Daniel slammed the key onto the table.
“Stop saying that.”
People nearby glanced over.
Jack remained calm.
“Your father staged his death because evidence had disappeared from Mercer Financial.”
Daniel sat very still.
“Staged?”
“Not by himself.”
“Who helped?”
“I did.”
Daniel stared.
Jack continued.
“Another man helped too. A medical examiner named Elias Grant.”
Daniel's mind raced.
“There was a body.”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
Jack's face darkened.
“A man who had no family to claim him.”
Daniel's stomach turned.
“That’s impossible.”
“It was easier twenty-two years ago than it would be now.”
“My uncle identified him.”
“Yes.”
“So Richard knew.”
Jack did not answer.
Daniel's voice dropped.
“Did my uncle know my father was alive?”
Jack looked at him.
“That question is why your father stayed gone.”
Daniel stood abruptly.
He grabbed the key.
Rachel was waiting outside.
As they entered the car, she asked, “How bad?”
Daniel held up the brass key.
“Take me to Union Station.”
The station manager initially told them there was no locker 317.
Then Rachel made two calls.
An hour later, they were standing in a basement corridor that had been closed to the public for more than fifteen years.
Dust covered the floor.
At the end stood a wall of metal boxes.
Most were empty.
Number 317 was still locked.
Daniel inserted the key.
His hand trembled.
Rachel noticed but said nothing.
The key turned.
Inside was a small waterproof case.
Daniel removed it.
The first item was a photograph.
Thomas Mercer stood beside Jack Hayes.
Both were younger.
Behind them was a private hangar.
Daniel flipped the photo over.
His father's handwriting covered the back.
JACK—
IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME, DANIEL MUST NEVER TRUST THE OFFICIAL STORY.
Daniel stopped breathing.
Beneath the photograph was a folded document.
A bank transfer authorization.
Signed by Richard Mercer.
$8,400,000.
Destination: an offshore company Daniel had never heard of.
The date was three days before Thomas Mercer supposedly died.
Rachel whispered, “Daniel.”
He did not answer.
At the bottom of the case sat a cassette recorder.
And taped to it was another note.
Danny,
If you are hearing this, then Jack finally decided the danger was over.
Daniel stared at the handwriting.
His father's handwriting.
For twenty-two years, he had believed that hand belonged to a dead man.
Rachel looked at him.
“Do you want me to play it?”
Daniel reached for the recorder.
Before he could press the button, his phone rang.
Richard Mercer.
Again.
This time Daniel answered.
“Uncle Richard.”
A familiar warm voice came through the speaker.
“Daniel, I've been calling all morning. Everything all right?”
Daniel looked at the photograph of Richard's brother standing beside Jack Hayes.
Then he looked at the $8.4 million transfer.
“I'm fine.”
“You sound strange.”
Daniel swallowed.
“I have a question.”
“Of course.”
Daniel stared at the date on the document.
“Where was my father between ten fifty and midnight the night he died?”
There was silence.
Only for two seconds.
But Daniel heard it.
Then Richard said:
“What kind of question is that?”
Daniel's blood turned cold.
May you like
Because for the first time in his life, Richard Mercer sounded afraid.
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