The Scam Read Free

need to catch a flight to Guantánamo. They’re holding a plane for us at Vandenberg.”
    Houlihan and Blake each picked up two suitcases and carried them back to the chopper. Kelso watched them go. He’d have to crack the whip on his boiler room full of poverty-wage workers in the Philippines and get them to send out twice as many scam emails as usual. He needed to generate as much cash as he could before the workers realized there was no paycheck coming, stripped the place of anything of value, and walked out on him.
    Kelso turned to Burns. “When will I hear from you?”
    “You won’t. If it all goes well, your grandson will show up at your door. If it doesn’t, you’ll see him on the news being perp-walked in Havana. Either way, this meeting never happened. The U.S. government was never involved. Are we clear?”
    Kelso nodded. “Thanks for your help.”
    “It’s what you pay your taxes for.”
    Actually, Kelso didn’t pay his taxes, because he had no legitimate income to declare. It was one more reason he’d paid the outrageous bribe to the Cubans.
    Burns jogged back to the helicopter and climbed in beside the pilot. The chopper lifted up, veered off over the Pacific, and headed north toward Vandenberg.
    As the sound of the chopper receded, Kelso heard a car coming up the driveway. He walked around to the front of the house to see who it was. A black Lincoln MKT with livery plates came to a stop, and a lanky guy in a loose-fitting tank top, board shorts, and sandals hopped out of the backseat with a big smile on his sunburned face. It took Kelso a second to realize it was his grandson Ernie.
    “Wow, what an amazing trip,” Ernie said. “Thanks for sending the limo, Grandpa. How did you know when I was coming back? Did the contest guys call you?”
    The enormity of what this meant hit Kelso like a sucker punch in the gut. He staggered, leaning on the house for support. Ernie rushed over, grabbed him, and held him upright.
    “Grandpa, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
    The helicopter came back and circled low over the house. For a moment, Kelso couldn’t breathe. All he could do was gasp for air and look up into the sky.
How could I have been so stupid?

T hey couldn’t fly the fake State Department helicopter into LAX, so Willie flew to Culver City and landed on top of a parking structure for the DoubleTree hotel. From there Jake took the hotel’s airport shuttle to his terminal, and Nick and Kate flew back to the apartment on Sunset. They unloaded the suitcases onto the rooftop, and Willie took off again. This time heading north, on her own.
    “Where’s she going?” Kate asked.
    “To a vacant farm up in Ojai that belongs to the IRS. She’ll repaint the chopper and keep it under wraps until we need it again.”
    “We’re keeping it?”
    “Why not? We bought it.”
    Pull out my fingernails, Kate thought. It would be less painful than babysitting Nick Fox.
    “Okay, we can hold on to it for a while, but only if Willie gets herself a valid pilot’s license,” Kate said.
    “You need to stop thinking so much like an FBI agent,” Nick said.
    “I
am
an FBI agent.”
    “Yes, but you’re a criminal when you’re with me. The law is for people who have nothing to hide. The purpose of a genuine pilot’s license is to identify you, prove you have met all of the legal requirements to fly an aircraft, and hold you responsible for your actions. We don’t want anyone to know who we are, or what we’ve done.”
    “Okay, I get that, but she’s had lessons, right? I mean she didn’t just get into the helicopter and take off, did she?”
    “She’s spent hours with a certified instructor. She’s absolutely qualified to fly that aircraft.”
    Nick picked up two of the suitcases full of cash and headed toward the elevator.
    “Don’t bother,” Kate said, carrying her suitcases toward the stairwell. “It’s out of order.”
    “No, it’s not.” He pushed the call button. “I wanted to discourage