Chapter 53

Sinead couldn’t believe the restaurant Marc brought her to. If she’d thought George was fancy when they’d gone on their stakeout-date there, it was practically old and musty compared to Canoe. At first, she’d been confused because Marc had led her walking a block over and into another big finance building and towards an elevator, but when they’d emerged on the 54th floor she’d been shocked.

Just the view, looking out over the city and with a clear shot of the CN Tower, was a little breathtaking. The place was modern and fancy as hell and Sinead immediately felt like she was underdressed, but one of the staff met them and shook Marc’s hand warmly before escorting them through the empty restaurant dining area to a seat right next to the big windows. She had a brief moment of vertigo when she looked too far down as Marc pulled out her chair for her, but she quickly quelled that as she focused on the waiter.

There was a brief whirlwind of activity - no alcohol, since she was technically on duty, so the wine list was waved away. They were offered the menus, but Marc said they would have whatever the chef was prepared to serve - it was only 10:30, an hour before the place was supposed to open, and he didn’t want to be trouble for them. The waiter, or maître d’, or whatever he was assured Marc that they would be happy to serve, and Sinead watched the dance between the two men as it was decided that lunch would be chosen by the chef and it might not be something on the menu at all. There was noise coming from the kitchen, more than Sinead would have expected, and without any music playing or other people or conversations going on she could hear the cooks in the back calling things to each other.

It was a little surreal.

“So,” Marc said once they were left alone, Marc with a San Pellegrino blood orange soda and Sinead with what turned out to be freshly squeezed orange juice. “Puzzle first, or conversation?”

Sinead hesitated but nodded to the file folder Marc had brought with them. “Let’s see what sticks out. I’m still digesting what you said earlier.”

Marc gave her a nod and a look that said he understood and then began slowly pulling out sheets from the folder. He was thorough in his explanations, and Sinead found herself able to follow more than half of what he was explaining - or at least recognizing words and concepts, if not connecting the dots - from her studies. Between what she’d done herself, and what she and Jules had gone over together, she was still floundering in the numbers but at least had a grasp on generalities.

And Marc was like a tornado ripping through the records and numbers. It was almost awe-inspiring, like watching a crack marksman on the shooting range. The way his mind worked was methodical and almost computer-like in his ability to recall numbers and connect numbered companies or accounts together.

They were served an appetizer of fresh blueberry scones that were fucking amazing, and hot out of the oven, accompanying fresh coffee that had Sinead blinking like she’d already drunk a cup just from the aroma. While they munched on that Marc identified the companies and accounts Victor Barisha had ‘off the books.’ The cash flow was high in volume for most of them, seemingly cycling in and out but never holding a large amount for an extended period. One, however, had almost two million in funds that had barely been touched and, in a handwritten note, was marked ‘needs offshoring.’ Most of those funds had come from a pair of numbered companies - one was connected to a string of car washes, while the other was harder to track down.