Perpetual Motion Read Free

eyes that sparkled under
glasses. He needed those corrective lenses to drive a Chevy Nova
circa 1970 that was registered to him…Cool car for such a nerdy
kid…His address was listed in an industrial area near downtown
LA.
    The next attachment held photocopies of
receipts for a couple of wire orders that added up to 450 thousand
dollars. The monies had originated at a brokerage house in London
and been transferred to an entity doing business as “O-Motors.” The
business was the same address as Michael’s residence.
    Cynical paused, drawing some preliminary
conclusions from the electronic paper trail. If he had to guess,
Mancuso had invested in Michael’s business, O-Motors, and probably
didn’t have much to show for it. Now Michael was missing, along
with his money; hence the frantic attempt to track him down.
    A PDF dossier of Michael Dexter was the third
and final attachment. Scattered with redacted passages, it was the
type of report he’d run into the few times he’d come across certain
military personal files and secretive corporate documents. The
blacked out portions seemed to be hiding the specifics of the work
he had been doing; however, some impressive academic institutions
and accomplishments still came through.
    Scanning down the page, he narrowed in on the
nine digits at the bottom of the page. Armed with Michael Dexter’s
social security number, he ran a quick credit check. Within
minutes, a report popped up in his in-box. While a somewhat
lackluster credit score wasn’t exactly newsworthy, it did give him
Michael’s credit card company.
    Grabbing his phone, he called up the company
and punched his way through the phone tree. Early in his private
detective career, he’d actually hesitated to use such techniques on
ethical grounds. That notion seemed quant now.
    He wasn’t sure which one was harder; stealing
a person’s identity or getting a live person to answer the phone.
After holding in easy-listening limbo, a far-away, heavily accented
man named “Kris” answered.
    “May I have your credit card number
please?”
    “Well that’s the problem,” Cynical said,
putting a crease of concern in his voice. “I can’t find my wallet
and I’m afraid someone may have my credit card.”
    “What is your name sir?” Kris asked.
    “Michael Avery Dexter.”
    “Yes, Mr. Dexter, can you please give me your
social security number?”
    Cynical read the magic numbers from his
computer screen.
    “And your home address please?”
    Again, Cynical read the information Mancuso
had provided.
    “Thank you Mr. Dexter. Would you like for me
to cancel your card and send out a new one?”
    “Well, can you tell me if anyone has used my
card in the last day or so?”
    “Let’s see,” Kris said, scanning his own
screen. “It looks like the last purchase was at the Bellagio Hotel
in Las Vegas. That was two days ago.”
    “Really?” Cynical said, pondering the Vegas
angle.
    “Did you not make that purchase sir?”
    “Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure. I was a little
intoxicated that night. I do remember swimming through fountains
with showgirls.”
    Kris wasn’t sure what to make of American
humor.
    “I’m just kidding,” Cynical said, trying to
sound reassuring. “Yeah, that was me.”
    “Actually, that wasn’t a purchase,” Kris said
after he’d had a chance to take a closer look at the transaction.
“That was just a hold on your card.”
    Hotels get credit card imprints up front.
While they don’t charge them, they do get approval for the amount
they think the customer will end up spending; just to make sure
they’re good for it.
    “Okay, yeah, right,” Cynical said, as if it
was all coming back to him. “But that was the last time the card
was used?”
    “Yes,” Kris said slowly, perhaps growing
suspicious. “Would you like to freeze the account until you have
located the card, sir?”
    “No, that’s okay,” he said, just in case
Michael was dumb enough to make another purchase. “I’m