On the Edge

by Parker Hudson

  “Have you ever traded stocks or bonds from your escrow safe with them?”

  “Who have you been talking to, Richard?” his eyes narrowed even more.

  “I'm in an impossible ethical, and perhaps legal, position at this point, Bruce. I'll probably tell you the name, but for the moment I just want to get to the bottom of the facts. I've known you for years. We're neighbors. I've guaranteed your loan. Now what I want to know—plain, simple, and true—is whether you've been selling or pledging other people's stocks and working with Far West to cover it up?”

  “The short answer is yes, Richard, but I want you to hear the rest.”

  Richard leaned back in his chair, exhaled, and swore. “Bruce, how could you?…Wonderful. Tell me the details.”

  “David and I started pledging a few stocks owned by trusts that never sold anything, over ten years ago. We hated to do it, but we had poured every cent we had into the business, and the banks wouldn't lend us any more money without collateral. It started out very simply. We had a big fee coming in on a Monday, and we had to meet our payroll on the Friday before, so we just took out a short loan to cover the weekend, and it worked perfectly, using the escrow stocks from our safe as collateral.

  “We didn't do it again for several months, but then we needed more money for a longer period, or we faced closing our doors, losing our homes, everything. So we took out a thirty-day note, and we made enough money to pay it all back and to retrieve the stocks in plenty of time for the audit.

  “We did this on and off, but only when we had to, Richard, for a couple of years. Then at one of our national conventions, I met the owner of Far West Securities—I'll give you his name when we get to that point—and we wound up going out for dinner and drinks one night, just the two of us. We were talking about our business and our problems and having a few rounds, and before long we both had hinted in a roundabout way that we had beefed up our collateral on occasion with stocks readily at hand.

  “I don't remember, exactly, but we somehow actually started discussing what we had done, and he lamented how unhelpful it was that we had these quarterly audits when we had to produce the stock certificates. That's when we more or less simultaneously hit upon the idea of helping each other out, to get through the audits when the stocks had been pledged.”

  Richard reached for his tea again. “How recently have you done this?”

  Bruce looked out the window. “I hate to tell you, Richard, but right now we've got a loan for $150,000 at the bank, secured by stocks we don't own.”

  Richard's chest felt hollow. “So on Friday, among other problems, I'm supposed to give our firm's legal opinion to Patrick Tomlinson about your good standing and the accuracy of all the representations in our financial documents, while you have ‘borrowed’ your clients’ stocks and colluded with another securities firm to defraud a bank and those same clients?”

  “You asked and said you wanted the truth. You're our attorney, so I told you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your faith in me…Now what in blazes do I do?”

  “Look, Richard, David and I don't like this any more than you do. We've hated to do it over the years. And one of the reasons we want the Tomlinson investment is so that we can wipe out that loan and never have to do it again. We obviously haven't told anyone, but we built that loan payoff into the equity infusion from the beginning. Don't worry. The loan is mentioned, just not the specific collateral. So my suggestion to you is that you do nothing, and let the closing occur. David and I will never borrow any funds in this way again—or help Far West again.”

  “That sounds so simple.”

  “It is simple. If you blow the whistle and stop the closing, our company will be finished, David and I will lose everything we have, your firm will be out a big legal fee, you will be out your personal financing fee, and you will still be guaranteeing a $500,000 loan at the bank.” Bruce paused to let those results sink in.

  “Or we can have the closing, the cash will come in, we'll pay off both loans, you will have your fees, our company will be in good shape, no one will have been hurt, and that will be the end of it.”

  Richard sat quietly and thought. Neither of them had yet touched his sandwich. “But I'll have to lie. I have to certify your standing and your records. And I now know that there is the potential for criminal and civil action against you. What if this reporter keeps digging and uncovers more?”

  “I'll call Far West and have whoever is unhappy made happy, so he or she will shut up. Then the trail will die, and after a few weeks, there won't be a trail. No harm, no foul. No one will be out any money, and if something is made of it several years from now, we'll explain it as an overzealous clerk and accept a quiet reprimand. When the public is not hurt, the regulators don't like to make a big fuss—it's bad for the whole industry. Whatever else might happen, anything is better than the disaster that will occur if the closing doesn't take place. Trust me on this, Richard. You are our attorney and are not supposed to reveal privileged information, anyway. No one can ever be mad at you. Just let it all happen like it's set to happen, as if you'd never heard any of this. Then we all come out OK, you included.”

  “Well, but I've got to give an opinion for the closing…Maybe I can play around with the words a bit so that it's not quite as strong as usual, but still legal sounding enough not to raise any suspicions. I don't think they're really looking too hard for problems anyway. They trust us.”

  “That's right. And they'll be fine, too, or I wouldn't ask you to do this. Everyone, and I mean everyone, comes out OK if the closing goes forward.”

  “And if you and David also stop this practice, once and for all.”

  “You have my word, Richard.”

  “Well, I've got to think it through again, but I guess I can do it, since no one will be hurt.”

  “That's good. I understand that the papers are to be signed on Thursday morning, and the money wired in first thing on Friday, right?”

  “Yes, that's how we've set it up.”

  “Well then, if that's settled, let's have some lunch.”

  On the way back to his office, a small voice tried to tell him that mixing his legal work and his investments had created this problem and that he should do the correct thing. But a louder voice reassured him that it would all blow over, everyone would be paid, and no one would be hurt. He just had to change a few words…

  Back at his office, Richard summoned his paralegal and told her that he wanted to make one last review of the McKinney/Tomlinson documents before expressing them to Marty Tsongas that afternoon. He then went through the opinion letter to be issued by his firm, removed a few absolutes, and added an innocuous-sounding catch-all phrase, stating that their opinion about McKinney and Smith was subject to the “customary requirements for client confidentiality.”

  Once the document was modified, they expressed the entire package to Marty for his review on the following day. Marty and Patrick would then fly in to sign all the papers during a brief ceremony on Thursday morning.

  That night at home, sitting again together with Richard in the den, Janet explained to him about the several psychological and psychiatric programs she had investigated on the telephone that day.

  “Most of them want to see all four of us on the first few visits, then break up and do therapy for anywhere from six months to many years. But, you know, Richard, these sounded like programs for really messed up kids—I mean like drug addicts, robbers, and that sort. Do you think Tommy and Susan need that sort of treatment?”

  “I don't know, Janet. I'm not feeling very good about my parental judgment right now.”

  “Do you think we could just talk to them and ask them to stop what they're doing?”

  “I would hope so, but I don't hold out much hope that it would last very long. I mean, how do you ever really change someone?”

  “Well, I'll call back the two places that sounded the most low key and talk to them again. Then we can decide. But what about this weeke
nd?”

  “We'll have to talk to them tomorrow night, I guess.”

  WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13 – Amy, Bobbie, and Susan sat alone again at lunch on Wednesday. Alone except for Pitow, the demon in charge of the forces of darkness in the school, who hovered above the fourth chair at the table. “I think it's time for another slumber party,” Amy announced, “and this time we can do it at my house. I've checked with my parents, and Saturday night will be fine with them. Then we can all go to Morningside Church again. Susan, I think you'd really like it.”

  The other two girls looked at Susan, who had been acting a little aloof for the past two weeks. “I don't know. Isn't a slumber party a little childish for seniors? I think I'd much rather spend the evening with Drew, maybe even in a motel room, than at a slumber party in a basement.”

  Bobbie and Amy looked at each other—the put-down had been obvious. “So you and Drew are shacking up in motels now?” Amy asked.

  “I wouldn't call it ‘shacking up.’ We love each other very much, and he is wonderful. My mother even knows, and she hasn't stopped us.”

  “Your mom knows?” Bobbie asked.

  “Yes, she found my pills.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “Not unless Mom told him. I don't know.”

  “And she didn't say anything at all?”

  “Well, she wasn't overjoyed, but she hasn't said we have to stop. How could she, really? She told me this summer that finding and loving a good man is the most important thing in life, so I think she understands us.” Pitow nodded in silent and amused agreement.

  “My parents still don't know what I went through,” said Amy. “I hope someday I can tell them, when I'm older.”

  “Finding a good man is important,” Bobbie added, “but it's not the most important. Loving God is the most important. If you do that, the other stuff just comes, according to His will.” Pitow was enraged, and rose three feet above the table. He hated it when the few Christians in the school actually spoke up, even in private. But just try it in public! Then they'd see his power!

  “Well, maybe,” Susan smiled. “But right now I sure am enjoying Drew. You ought to try a motel sometime, Amy. It sure beats parking in a car. You might get back into boys if you had the right place to go.” Pitow watched Amy's eyes for a spark of lust, but was terribly disappointed.

  “I'm into boys,” Amy said, not smiling. “I'm just not into that part of boys right now.”

  “Well, they say it's just like riding a bicycle, only a lot more fun. Maybe we could double date sometime and get adjoining rooms!”

  “Come on, Susan,” Bobbie said, “you sound like some kind of hooker. You really need to come to our youth group. Everything I've read, including God's Word, says that you're playing with fire and will regret it, sooner or later. The only questions are how bad the hurt will be, and who will suffer the most.”

  “Don't you think I know more from experience than you do from books? It's real life. What about you, Amy? Are you a jumper and shouter yet?”

  “You aren't going to understand this, Susan,” Amy said, “but the Bible I've been reading seems like real life to me. At least I feel like it's telling the real truth to me. And I feel loved and wanted by the people at Bobbie's church. So right now that's a very happy reality for me, and I don't need a motel room with a boy to make me feel good.”

  “Well, excuse me. Let me know,” Susan said, getting up to meet Drew, who had just walked into the cafeteria door, “when you're ready to relax again.”

  As Susan walked away, Bobbie asked Amy, “It's not easy, is it?”

  “No, it's not. But I know inside that it's right. In fact, I might ask you and Glenn to pray with me after youth group on Sunday. I may be ready to turn over my life to Jesus. If Susan is the alternative, then I'm running as fast as I can to God!” Pitow was flabbergasted. This is not what Nepravel and Zloy had expected from her. Balzor would be furious!

  Bobbie was quietly thrilled by Amy's finding the Lord's power acting in her life, and on the way back to class she said silent prayers for both of her friends.

  That afternoon the national crews for “911 Live” arrived at TV5, which would act as the control center each week for the satellite relay back to Network in New York. Janet had arranged for their accommodations and for their appointments at the police, fire, and ambulance stations where the equipment was to be installed. Because of all the controversy surrounding the show, the arrival of the crew was “news,” and the local newspapers sent reporters to cover the equipment installation.

  Janet rode with the team to the police station. The equipment was familiar from their trial run, except that Mark and Bob had accelerated the purchase of tiny cameras which could actually be worn on the helmet or on the hat of emergency personnel, linked back to their vehicle for up to five hundred feet and amplified back to the station. So now it would actually be possible to go along with 911 personnel into a building, which did not comfort Janet, but at this point she was not prepared to say anything.

  By the end of Wednesday it looked as if they would be finished in plenty of time to roll on schedule, an hour before the 7:30 broadcast started, in just two more days.

  Janet and Richard talked on the phone later that afternoon, and it seemed that perhaps the program run by the Sequoia Center might be low key but powerful enough to have some effect on their family. So Janet had tentatively signed them all up for an initial interview on the following Tuesday afternoon.

  After dinner that night, the parents met and decided that they would ask—it would not be “appropriate” to demand—that their children refrain from their sexual activity that weekend, given their family interview scheduled for Tuesday. And they decided that they would each ask the child of the opposite sex.

  So Richard headed upstairs to talk with Susan for the first time about her involvement with Drew, and Janet asked Tommy to turn off the television at the end of his show. She had a fairly easy time with her son, who had not particularly wanted to get back together with his group so soon anyway. At her request, he promised that he would not lie about his activities that weekend and that he would not “do videos” or any other similar behavior until their interview. Tommy was frankly relieved to have his parents ask him to slow down, as tenuous as their request was. And he wanted to figure himself out as much as they did. Although he was not prepared to give up his fun totally, he actually looked forward to their meeting on Tuesday.

  Susan was not so happy or so agreeable. Richard tried to control his anger, his disappointment, and his discomfort when talking to her, but all three were clearly just below the surface.

  “Susan, this is not easy for me, but I just don't think that you should be…sleeping…with Drew at age seventeen, with all the risks involved. But I'm in over my head, and your mother and I would like for all four of us to go see a counselor together. We've scheduled a meeting for Tuesday afternoon.”

  “What on earth are we going to talk about?” Susan asked.

  “I honestly don't know. But because we think what you're doing is wrong, and because of this meeting, we'd like you to promise that you and Drew will not sleep together…this weekend, until we've all had a chance to hear what the counselor has to say.”

  “I don't know, Dad,” Susan replied, to Richard's astonishment. “I don't think Drew and I are doing anything wrong. I mean, if we use birth control and a condom…” Richard felt himself blushing, but noticed that Susan wasn't. “…then what's wrong? We're not hurting anyone, and we love each other. Those are the criteria you and Mom have always given me to decide right from wrong. So tell me what's wrong.”

  Richard had expected her to do as he asked, just as she always had, and not to debate him. She waited for his answer, and to his amazement, he could not think of one. He knew it was wrong for her to be sleeping with Drew, but he could not articulate why. He had to admit that he didn't really know why, especially given the fact that he and Kristen would be enjoying “lunch” together the next d
ay. He quickly suppressed that thought! Why was it wrong? He certainly couldn't say, “Because it says so in the Bible,” but that's what he found himself thinking. How unexpectedly bizarre!

  “We just think it's wrong for you to be running the risks of disease and pregnancy, Susan. Either one would be terrible.”

  “But I said we know how to prevent those. And I love him. He's a great guy, and I hope we can go to the same college and maybe get married some day. We're not hurting anyone, and we'll always be careful, I promise.”

  Richard knew he had lost. It astonished him that he couldn't give his seventeen-year-old daughter any good reasons why she shouldn't be sleeping with her boyfriend in motels! Maybe there aren't any, he thought. Maybe she should just do what she wanted, and Tommy should do what he wanted. Maybe that was the way today, a voice told him. But he hung in for one more try, not wanting to face Janet otherwise.

  “Look, your old man is at his wit's end. Perhaps I can't tell you now what's wrong. That's why I want to see a counselor. I'll even concede that maybe you're right. But can't you please just humor me for one weekend, for old times’ sake, and do something else until we see this expert?”

  Susan relented, when asked nicely. “Oh, all right, Daddy. I'll do as you've asked this one weekend, but that's all I'll promise. And we'll see what this expert has to say. Now I've got to finish this homework.”

  Richard rose and kissed her on the forehead, then left, feeling he'd won the battle but lost the war.

  At midnight the broiling mass of hateful demons met over the city to review their work during the last twenty-four hours. Tymor asked to address the horde, and Balzor nodded.

  “Good news. We've ‘helped’ a professor at the seminary in the university ‘discover’ that the story about Jesus, the possessed man, and the herd of swine on the hill was actually a parody of an earlier Greek allegory, and he's going to publish that finding next month in a scholarly journal on religion, discrediting Mark and Luke as the authors!”