On his way out, David suggested that she call Sara Solomon. “There have been some developments,” he said.
Diane saw David off, agreeing to meet him at BRI the next day, Sunday.
She returned to the kitchen, unplugged her cell phone from its charger and tapped in Sara Solomon’s number.
Sara answered on the first ring. “Hey, Diane. Good to have you back. How was your trip?
Diane gave her the condensed version she had given David, again leaving out any mention of the Knights of New Granada, the Kogi and her dalliance in the storm with Gabriel.
Sara was amazed by Diane’s assertion that Gabriel Carrera had been responsible for Vincent’s death. She said that she was at a loss to pinpoint a motive. She offered her condolences to Diane then moved on to the business at hand.
“A lot’s been happening here. The authorities are holding Leonard Everly for questioning in connection with the murder of Dr. Harry Lee. We’ve been unable to find Everly’s passport, but we’ve checked with the immigration authorities and they confirmed that he entered Hong Kong the day that Harry Lee was killed and left the next morning.”
Sara went on to report that the dog hairs found on Harry Lee’s jacket matched the ones from Diane’s lint brush.
In the phone call Diane had made to Sara from Olimpia’s house in Aruba, she recounted her conversation with Maxine about Everly’s presence in Asia at the time Dr. Lee was killed. Also, she had told her about the lint brush in a plastic bag hidden inside the piano. The brush contained the hairs from Everly’s dog, Hunter. Remembering the newspaper report of dog hairs on Harry Lee’s body, she had carefully brushed them from her slacks after returning from his ranch.
Now, she listened in numbed silence while the CIA agent went on.
Sara related that she had come to the treehouse and taken the brush as per Diane’s suggestion, but also she had snapped some photos of the writing on the cupola wallpaper. “The code-breakers wanted to know the exact placement of the numbers in relationship to each other,” she said.
It turned out that some of the numbers were GPS coordinates for offshore banks in Bermuda and Singapore. And two groupings were numbers for bank accounts belonging to Raymond Bellfort and Leonard Everly.
The rest of them were telescope settings, mostly for star gazing. But some were compass headings; one of them pointed from the treehouse to Raymond Bellfort’s lakeside home. Harry Lee was spying on Raymond Bellfort.
Sara said, “He had apparently hacked into BRI’s computers and/or Bellfort’s home computer to get the banking information.”
She added, “He was one smart fella, and clever too. He knew the next occupant in the treehouse would be a scientist—someone who wouldn’t rest until he or she solved the puzzle of the handwriting on the wall.”
Sara theorized that Harry Lee’s project at BRI was not quite finished when, through his spying, he discovered Bellfort was going to sell it out from under him. So he planned to move on and take his technology with him. But he wanted the next treehouse resident to find his evidence, build on it, then expose whatever Bellfort and Everly were up to.
Sara went on: “We did a retrograde search to find out who had been wire transferring large amounts of cash into those accounts. Bellfort and Everly frequently received identical deposits on the same dates.”
Diane knew she shouldn’t have been surprised when Sara informed her that the depositor was TekTranz out of Germany. But somehow that bit of information sent her into emotional overload. She sank onto a kitchen stool, leaned on the bar and propped her head in her hand.
She was now certain that Vincent’s death was linked to all of it, even though there was still a disconnect between Harry Lee’s death, Everly and Bellfort embezzling from BRI and Gabriel murdering Vincent. She wouldn’t rest until the motives were clear and everyone responsible had been exposed.
Diane forced her focus back to the telephone and Sara’s voice.
“Leonard Everly denied ever meeting Dr. Harry Lee when he was in Asia. But then we hit him with proof of the matching dog hairs—we neglected to tell him that the hairs were tangled in the Velcro in Dr. Lee’s jacket, along with some sweater fibers.
“In light of the evidence, of course Everly changed his story. He said that Harry Lee was peddling his technology in Hong Kong and had contacted him. He said that he and Dr. Harry Lee had never met before, but Harry had heard some good things about his marketing abilities at BRI. He told us that Dr. Lee was adamant that Raymond Bellfort was not to know of their meeting. Everly agreed to keep it confidential and flew over to Hong Kong to see him after completing his BRI business in Taipei.
“Everly said he met Dr. Lee at a wine bar in the SOHO district of Hong Kong. He insisted that shaking Dr. Lee’s hand and sliding onto a barstool beside him explains the dog hairs on Harry Lee’s jacket.
“He said that over a couple glasses of wine they discussed the possibility of finding a buyer for Harry’s technology and what his commission would be. But no deal had been struck yet.
“According to Leonard Everly, at 7 p.m. Harry Lee said he had to leave for a dinner engagement. He gave Everly his business card and they parted amicably outside the bar. That was the night Dr. Lee was killed.”
“By the way,” Sara added, “Leonard Everly’s arrest has been kept under wraps while the various authorities investigate further. They’re trying to connect the dots between Everly’s probable embezzlement from BRI and Harry Lee’s murder.
Sara added, “Considering the technology involved, we suspect this goes way beyond one man’s greed. So keep it to yourself. David Crowley’s group knows, of course. But the authorities want to question Bellfort before Everly’s arrest becomes common knowledge.
“Speaking of your illustrious boss, he’s been gone quite awhile. It makes me wonder whether he’s vacationing or hiding out.”
Outside the treehouse, the rain came down in torrents. A rental SUV cruised by, barely making a splash. The driver stopped near the boat ramp, backed into a parking space and cut the engine. Then he lit up a cigarette and watched.
μ CHAPTER FORTY THREE μ
“It all began along the Silk Road, which I’m sure you know was the ancient trade route between China and the Mediterranean. Travelers and merchants needed rest stops, so tea houses began springing up. Over several centuries, various snacks were added to teahouse fare, giving birth to the tradition of dim sum.”
At that moment a waiter wheeled a cart of bamboo steamers up to the table, interrupting Mr. Lee’s discourse.
While Hu Lee discussed the selections with the waiter, Diane sipped her green tea and scrutinized the man who had taken a one-hour flight from Dallas to see her. He had phoned last evening and they agreed to have brunch. Dim sum had been his preference.
He landed at Hobby Airport at 10:30 in the rain. She picked him up and drove to the restaurant on Houston’s Southwest side.
Hu Lee was a handsome man, probably in his middle fifties. He had grown up in Hong Kong, but was schooled in the U.K. His accent was a cultured blend of Chinese and British.
His khaki slacks, boating shoes and rolled shirtsleeves signaled he was not always the buttoned down banker his voice suggested over the telephone. Also, there was that lock of black hair that dangled rakishly over his forehead; he obviously didn’t feel compelled to smooth it back.
Finally, the waiter and his cart rattled toward the next table. Hu Lee picked up his chopsticks. “Allow me,” he said.