An Absence of Light

“Yeah. His client can give us any kind of thing we want like that.”

“But you don’t have any idea who the client is.”

Valerie Heath shook her head. “Naw. Nobody knows anybody. I don’t even know Don, for Christ’s sake. I always meet him wherever he says to meet, and he’s always there ahead of me and makes me leave first so I can’t see what kind of car he drives.”

“You’ve never tried to hide and catch him leaving after you?” Paula asked.

Heath waited a beat or two before answering. “Yeah”-she nodded-”once. He caught me. That’s when I found out he knew exactly what I drove. He knows a lot about me. He said if he ever caught me doing that again it was over.” She paused and sipped her coffee. “I was already pulling down almost ninety thousand a year. Cash. I figured knowing more about him wasn’t worth losing that Hell, if he wants to be the mystery man, let him. I’ll take the cash.”

“What about the people you’re buying from? Do they know you?”

“No way. I do just like Don. I use a different first name and last initial with each of them. Debbie E. Linda M. Whatever. Every one of them knows me as somebody different.”

“Do you know any of them?”

“Nope. If one of them drops out for some reason-and I never know why they do, it doesn’t happen very often-Don gives me a new one. First name only. New contact routines. I don’t know them. They don’t know me. I don’t know Don.”

“But he knows you.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. She put her coffee cup between her thighs and raised her hands to fluff her hair. “He does.”

“What kind of business are your people working in?” Neuman asked.

“I got people in two banks, a few law offices, a maintenance service, and an executive secretarial service. The maintenance service guy is the biggest moneymaker.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because this guy isn’t really a janitor. He’s a computer freak, a hacker. The business he works for has the janitorial contract for one of the biggest buildings downtown. There are oil company offices in there, law offices, stockbrokers, real estate people, international businesses. This guy has access to all these offices all night, every night. Don has more laundry lists for this guy than anyone.”

“Do all of your people have the same expertise?” Neuman was making notes frantically, not even looking up to ask the question. “I mean, are they all employed in the same kind of job?”

“No. That’s the thing about this,” Heath said, looking at Lara again. “All of them are fairly low-level. Secretaries, data input clerks. Desk types. That’s why it works. Everybody’s in low-paying jobs and always need the money, but they have access to records. Computers. They can get whatever it is you want on those damn computers. They have all this access, but they aren’t getting paid shit Everybody like that’s strapped for money. It’s easy to buy them. Cash. That’s the thing. I mean, they don’t have any loyalty to those companies. They know damn well if things get tight they’re going to be the first ones to go. They’re not kidding themselves. Big shots-they always think, you know, the average person is dim-witted. Those big companies. It’s like the government Average person gets a chance, they’re going to screw them ’cause they know the company would do the same to them if their profits started suffering. That’s what this shitty economy has taught a lot of people, if nothing else. Cover your ass.”

Valerie polished off her coffee and looked around, waiting for the next question.

Graver asked, “Have you ever heard of a company called DataPrint?”

Valerie Heath pursed her mouth a second and then shook her head. “No.”

“Have you ever heard of a guy named Bruce Sheck?”

Again she gave it a little thought and shook her head. “No.”

“What was the deal with Colleen Synar?” Graver asked.

“That, Jesus. It wasn’t anything. One day Don tells me, Look, if anyone calls you and asks for a Colleen Synar, tell them she moved away a long time ago. I said, What? He said, somebody might call you about her, just tell them she moved away and that’s all you know. That pissed me a little. I didn’t say he could do that, give my number to somebody. He didn’t explain any more than that. I was pissed, but I didn’t say anything else. I was afraid of losing my situation. At that time the money was already coming in big-time. I’d never had anything like that before. I didn’t want to lose it. I worried about it a long time, was scared every time the phone rang. But when nobody ever called I forgot about it… until she called,” she said, nodding at Paula.

“When you want to get in touch with Don, how do you do it?” Graver was leaning back against the headboard of the bed. His tie was undone.

“Telephone number. I call it, leave a message, he calls me back. The number changes every four or five weeks.”

“What’s the number?” Neuman asked.

“Forget it,” she said. “I called him yesterday and the thing’s dead. And I haven’t heard from him.”

“Do you think Don has other people like you, buying information from several sources?”