Friday Edition, The by Betta Ferrendelli Read Free Book Online Page A

was facing the foothills. Sam thought of her own desk filled with piles of newspapers, reporter’s notebooks, files for stories and coffee cups stacked anywhere she could find room. Robin used to tease Sam about the way she kept her workspace. Sam said a reporter’s trademark was a messy desk.
    Sam stayed in the doorway, afraid to move. A telephone ringing in a nearby office startled her and she turned in the direction of the sound. She exhaled, realizing that she had been holding her breath. She stepped further into Robin’s office and closed the door with a soft click. She locked the door and became aware of her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like a spy on a secret mission. She was momentarily safe now, behind enemy lines.
    Sam moved toward Robin’s desk, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as she crossed the carpet. She sat in Robin’s chair and caught sight of the two photos on the desk. One showed the sisters standing shoulder to shoulder on a bridge over the Arno River, the other showed Robin and Brady at an office Christmas party.
    Sam tried to open the center drawer. It was locked, but she knew where Robin kept the key. She reached beneath the drawer where Robin kept it hanging on a small nail. As she reached for the key, several pieces of tattered newspaper, scattered on the floor next to the trashcan, Distracted her. “Well, well,” she whispered as she collected the snippets of paper.
    She set the paper on the desk to smooth out the wrinkles. “It looks like some kind of a news report,” she said softly and frowned as she studied the newspaper article.
    One section of the newsprint was in small block letters typed in bold:
     
    Hundreds of Accounts Frozen Across The C...
     
    Sam’s frown deepened. The rest of the sentence was gone. She smoothed the wrinkles from the second piece of newspaper and felt a surge of uneasiness. She scanned the article slowly, moving her index finger carefully beneath the words.
     
    “Hundreds of bank accounts, some holding as much as $400 million in Colombian and Mexican drug cartel money, were frozen yesterday. The move has been viewed by law enforcement experts as a dividend from the U.S. attack on Panama.
    The federal government announced that it had blocked access to 684 bank accounts, mostly in New York and Florida. Officials requested transaction records from 70 more accounts as part of a massive probe into the flow of drug money in and out of the United States...”
     
    Sam arched an eyebrow. Her apprehension rose a notch. “When was yesterday?” She read on.
     
    “Drug cartel accounts were traced to banks in 22 states and the District of Columbia. Federal officials have noted that there was no evidence linking any of the banks with solicitation of drug money. Federal officials also said that some banks in America were being investigated.
    Three local banks—First Security Bank, the National Bank of Grandview and Smith National Bank—have accounts that federal authorities were planning to investigate.
    In Miami yesterday, federal agents issued subpoenas to 87 banks, ordering them either to block transfer of funds from accounts or to supply all records for these acco...”
     
    “Damn!” she said and read the tattered pieces again, but saw nothing else written on the page. Robin, I want to help you, but how? Tell me how? She grabbed the trashcan, pulled it within reach and dumped the rest of the contents on the floor. She scooped up the pieces of paper and put them on the desk. Slowly and precisely she began to smooth out the remaining pieces of the newspaper. Within fifteen minutes, she had reassembled most of the jigsaw puzzle.
     
    “… Eventually, prosecutors will file civil forfeiture papers to seize any money found in the accounts. Similar subpoenas were being served on more than 50 New York City banks.
    The actions were tied to a three-year federal investigation known as Operation Iceberg. It involved Justice and Treasury department agents in