My stomach twisted. “Van, this is ridiculous.”
“Ironwood is less than an hour away.”
I stood straighter. “Are you saying that Phillip could be that close?”
“I don’t know. He could be using a VPN to make it appear he’s there or fuck, he could be there. I’m calling Rob, the private investigator. I want visual confirmation.”
“Please make this stop. Make him stop.”
Van
“I’m telling you what the state patrol officer just told me,” I said to Rob Landon, the private detective. “Julia’s number is pinging in Ironwood, Michigan.”
“It wasn’t Phillip. I’ve been tailing him since this morning.”
Letting out a long breath, I sat back against my desk chair. “You’re sure? You have visual confirmation?” Yes, I wanted evidence. I wanted more than that. I wanted my brother’s head on a fucking platter. That sounded a little Old Testament. Nevertheless, it seemed appropriate—brother against brother.
“Unless you’re staying at the DoubleTree,” Rob said, “it’s him.”
My jaw ached from all the clenching. “And you haven’t lost sight of him?”
“He went back to his room after lunch. I can tell you what he ordered.”
“I don’t give a fuck about his diet. I want to know he didn’t jump onto a plane and head to the upper peninsula.”
“I just sent you a picture, Mr. Sherman. He took the elevator less than an hour ago. He didn’t send text messages from the UP. The man he met with before, Logan Butler, met him in the hotel’s restaurant for what appeared to be a working lunch.”
My phone vibrated.
Changing the call to speaker, I looked at the picture. There was no doubt I was seeing Phillip and Logan. This picture was clearer than the one he’d sent yesterday.
“Phillip pays for everything in cash,” Rob said. “There’s only a very small digital imprint that he’s in Chicago at all. Nothing more than his airline ticket. And that only means he flew into O’Hare, the same as forty thousand other people in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Shit, I’m sure the Wisconsin patrol are going to follow up on what we told them.”
“Maybe they can find something I can’t.”
I tried to recall. “What did you say was the name on the reservations?”
“I didn’t. Remember I told you that the money in his account came via layers of shell companies? One of those companies was listed on the reservation.”
“What name?”
“MMT Inc.”
It rang a bell. “You mentioned that yesterday. It doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“All I know is that it was the company that made the deposit in Phillip’s account, the same company name on the hotel reservations, and today one of my associates linked it to a SPAC.”
My free hand gripped the arm of my chair. “Do you have the name of the SPAC?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s in my notes…”
As I waited, I logged into my office email, remembering the email I’d meant to check before all hell broke loose.
“Here it is,” Rob said, “GreenSphere Opportunities.”
That information was more than my people had been able to find. “You’re saying that MMT Inc. is an investor in GreenSphere Opportunities.”