Dawson's Web by William Hutchison Read Free Book Online Page A

everyone was making money. People who couldn’t afford homes were finally able to buy. They’d buy a home, own it for six months and flip it for a profit. We sold the loans. We packaged some of them and sold them as investments. They were repackaged and sold, each time at a higher profit. Everyone wanted in on the action. No one saw the real estate bubble about to burst. We were all caught up in it. In the early to mid-2000’s, everyone was making money. Then it all came to an end. I was fortunate enough to have gotten out six months before the crash. It was pure coincidence. Honestly.”
    He waited for a reaction seeing if his story was being bought. Actually, he had friends who saw the crash coming and warned him to get out while he still could. He did and pocketed several million dollars, which he stashed in offshore accounts.
    “So you’re justifying your actions as just being part of the crowd? Really? You believe that?”
    Before Hans could answer, his secretary buzzed him on the intercom.
    “Mr. Morgenstern, there’s a courier here. He has a package and says it’s urgent.”
    He wasn’t expecting anything unless it might be from the SEC. They did say they might be getting back after interviewing several of his staff.
    “Ok, Tiffany, bring it in.”
    Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course, her name would be Tiffany, but why not Mariah or Cinnamon?”
    Tiffany sauntered in, hips swinging wildly from side to side. Her breasts bounced slightly, a fact not lost on Sarah, or on Hans, for that matter. She leaned over the desk and put the sealed brown envelope face up on the desk.
    “Eyes only for Mr. Morgenstern” was printed in handwritten block letters on the outside. No other markings were visible.
    Hans reached into his desk, took out a letter opener and slit open the top.
    “Excuse me, Sarah. I don’t mean to be rude, but I wasn’t expecting anything today. I’ll be with you momentarily.”
    Hans picked up the envelope, went into the washroom behind his desk and shut the door. He was inside for less than a minute. When he came out, he had lost all the color in his face.
    “I’m sorry. There’s something I have to deal with. We’ll have to reschedule for next week. I promise. Ask Tiffany to set you up for Monday. Now excuse me.”
    He rushed out of the office cell phone in hand leaving Sarah seated where she was.

Chapter 8
     
    Hans made his way down to the parking garage, got in his Jag and turned on his GPS. He set the course for Charlene’s and revved out onto the street. Her place was a few blocks away. He pulled up into the driveway, put on his emergency lights and handed the door attendant $20. “I’ll be right back. I have to deliver a package.”
    Hans got out of the elevator, flipped off the safety on his Glock 9mm and pounded on Charlene’s door.
    The person inside undid the deadbolts and cracked open the door. The chain was still visible when Hans spied a bleary-eyed young blonde haired man in his thirties through the opening.
    “Where’s Charlene!” He brought the gun up and pointed it in Blondie’s face.
    “Look man. Don’t shoot. No one named Charlene lives here. I only got to bed an hour ago. I flew in from London on a red-eye.”
    “Open the door!” Hans demanded pointing the gun straight into Blondie’s face.
    “All right. All right!”
    Blondie opened the door and backed up with his hands up. He stood there in his tidy-whities as Hans barged in.
    Hans scanned the room for any signs of Charlene.
    Nothing.
    “Sit down on the couch and shut up!” Hans motioned to the chair.
    Blondie obeyed and sat down.
    Hans went into the bedroom.
    No sign of any women could be found anywhere. Blondie’s suitcase was open beside the same double bed he and Charlene had spent several hours in earlier that week, the baggage tag from Heathrow clearly visible.
    Strange. The bed linen wasn’t the same.  Hans opened the closet door and found the laundry bin.
    Empty.
    The lavender sheets