THE TAINTED TRUST (Volume 2 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 77

          Toronto. Friday, August 24, 1990.

Dressed in his bulky faded and torn jeans, wrinkled white sweatshirt and Blue Jays baseball hat, Phillip entered Revenue Canada's regional office on Front Street in the heart of the business district of Toronto. He approached one of five receptionists seated behind the information counter.

"May I help you sir?" she asked, frowning as she examined his sloppy appearance.

"I want to speak to the manager," he demanded.

The receptionist glared at him, turned off by his slovenly appearance. "May I ask what it's about? Is this a tax matter?"

"Yup."

"Your name, please?"

"Phillip Servito."

The receptionist pointed to the waiting area, crowded to the point of standing room only. "Wait over there, please? Someone will be with you as soon as possible."

A tall thin man in his early thirties entered the waiting area twenty minutes later. He had well greased blond hair and wore a dark blue suit, matching tie and glossy black loafers. "Phillip Servito," he bellowed.

Phillip raised his right hand and approached the man.

"Come with me, please." He led Phillip into a small austere conference room, not far from the waiting area. "Please have a seat," he said, pointing to a small round table surrounded by eight wooden chairs.

"Are you the manager?" Phillip asked as he lowered himself onto one of the chairs.

"I'm her assistant. She's in a meeting at this moment." He extended his hand. "My name is David Savage. I understand you want to discuss a tax matter. Is that correct?"

Phillip nodded.

Savage took a seat on the opposite side of the table and dropped a note pad on the table. He glared at Phillip, his pen at the ready. "What specifically did you want to talk about?"

"My father left me a lot of money when he died ten years ago. I never received it."

"And what was your father's name?"

"James Servito."

The name, capable of setting off alarm bells in higher Revenue Canada circles, meant nothing to Savage. "Can you tell me what this has to do with Revenue Canada?"

"My father stole the money from Canada and the United States by evading gasoline taxes."

Savage stopped writing and stared at Phillip in amazement. "Can you tell me how much it was? I mean how much money did your father leave you?"

"Three hundred million."

"How much?" Savage asked, astonished, his mouth open, his gray eyes bulging.

"You heard me. Three hundred million dollars."

A grin broke the veneer of Savage's austere professionalism. He had a very large fish on his line. "Do you know where this money is?"

"I might. Is there a reward? If there is, how much is it?"

Savage frowned. "There's no reward. If you have knowledge of the location of that money, you're legally obliged to reveal it. Furthermore, it's a serious offense to withhold that kind of information from Revenue Canada."