*****
The afternoon passed quickly. Nick met with Sam to discuss the questions for the Jordano interview, and added a couple of additional queries intended to pull out more information when the whistleblower called. Nick glanced at his desk clock and saw it was two minutes before six. He got up and headed to Mitchell’s office. Pete waved him in.
“Close the door.” Mitchell rubbed the stubble on his chin, looking like he was ready to call it a day. “I just got off the phone with Director Shapiro. He wants daily progress reports on the Jordano matter.”
“Hell, we just got started a few days ago,” Nick complained. “What’s the rush?”
“Kaspar Jordano has made a few enemies over the years. He also has a few benefactors, but his arrogance and stubbornness has pissed off many more, especially in senior government ranks.” He rubbed his chin for a moment. “There’s been a Teflon quality to Jordano. Nothing ever seems to stick to him or the firm. This current situation seems like a great opportunity to find out if there’s dirt under his fingernails. So the Director is all over this.” Pete leaned back in his chair and yawned.
“Well, maybe we’ll learn something new tonight,” Nick said hopefully. “If this source is as good as you think, we’ll get an insight into the inner workings of the firm. That should provide us with material that we can investigate further.” Nick paused as the phone rang.
“Here we go,” Pete said, reaching for the phone and putting it on speaker. “Deputy Director Peter Mitchell.”
“Good evening, Mr. Mitchell.” The voice had a tinny quality to it. Nick thought the caller might be using a voice alteration device to help hide his identity.
“Is this still a good time for you to talk?”
“Yes, this is fine. I want you to know that I also have Nick Doyle, my senior investigator, here in the office with me.”
“Very well. Good evening to you, Mr. Doyle.” Even with the hollow sound coming through the speaker, the voice sounded cultured and refined.
“Good evening, sir. We appreciate the opportunity to speak with you.” Nick looked at Mitchell and shrugged as if to say, what’s next?
“Let’s begin,” Mitchell intoned. “As you know, we’d like to understand a couple of things about your purpose in calling us. Your allegations about Jordano Funds are serious. You do realize that we need to ascertain the veracity of your statements before we can take any action? It would help greatly if you could tell us your name and position at the firm, sir, so that we can understand the level of information that you have access to. Is that possible?”
The mechanical voice on the other end of the line chuckled softly. “Not so fast. I can assure you that I have access to the highest levels of information within the firm. But I will not provide you with my name or specific title until we discuss immunity for my potential involvement that may come to light during your investigation.”
“Well, that is a sticking point. You need to give us more specifics concerning actions that have been taken by members of your firm that are either illegal or unethical. The SEC will then initiate a formal investigation, subpoena the company’s records, and analyze the information that we gather. If we believe that prosecutable offenses have occurred, we will then be able to offer an appropriate level of immunity for actions that you may have taken or been involved with.” Mitchell looked over at Nick, who nodded in agreement with the approach.
“I see.” The informant paused. “Here’s what I can tell you tonight. Jordano has taken steps to subvert the accuracy of shareholder account balances in order to fix a mistake that was made by its operational unit. This error will cost the firm several million dollars unless it takes action to correct it. Although this solution will harm many shareholders, the firm seems prepared to proceed. This mistake was due to operational malfeasance. If knowledge of it becomes public, the firm knows it will be held responsible and the company will take a substantial hit on this quarter’s earnings. Investor knowledge of the error will also hurt Jordano’s pristine image.” The caller paused again. “Given the skepticism in today’s investment environment, Jordano’s public persona is as important to the firm as the loss of the money will be.”
Nick thought about what the informant had said and agreed with him. Mutual fund firms that found themselves under investigation by the SEC discovered the current climate treacherous. The investing public was sick of poor financial performance and flagrant unethical behavior. Senior management of every mutual fund firm was scared shitless that they might find themselves under a bright spotlight—and they would do just about anything to prevent that from happening.
Nick looked down at his list of questions. He realized the informant had already provided some of the details that they were looking for. Nick wanted to ask the next question, so he looked to his boss and pointed to himself. Mitchell nodded to go ahead.
“Sir, this is Nick Doyle. Can you tell us if senior management at Jordano has been apprised of the situation, and whether they have committed to take these actions? By senior management, I mean the CEO, the CFO, and the managing directors?”
“That’s exactly who is promoting this nefarious solution,” the voice responded. “The cover up reaches to the highest levels of the organization. There’ve been several meetings where this issue is number one on the agenda. I’m disgusted to be part of this group, and I’m sorry that my career will likely be ruined along with those who are devising this unethical and illegal remedy.” A tone of regret emanated from the phone.
Nick wanted to push further. “Can you elaborate? What actions did the firm initiate? What event precipitated this action being necessary? How many accounts are impacted? What is being done that will harm shareholders?”
“You will need to do your own digging to get that level of detail. You should start your analysis with transactions executed in the international fund group during the past month. That is the most detail I will provide at this time.”
Nick sensed that the informant had said all he was going to tonight, but he wanted to try one more time. “Okay, if you can’t or won’t give us details right now on the specifics of the transgressions that occurred at the firm, could you at least explain your motivation for providing this information to the SEC?”
The silence on the phone lasted a full ten seconds, long enough to make Nick think they had lost the connection. Finally, the informant spoke.
“I have both personal and professional reasons for coming forward. I won’t discuss them now, but my reasons will be clear soon enough,” the caller responded. “I won’t be more specific than that.”
Mitchell motioned to Nick that he was going to wrap this up. He barked, “Is there a way that we can get in touch with you? Do you have a cell phone number that you can be reached on?”
“I would rather keep control of the dialogue for now, so I won’t provide you with a way to contact me. I’m not confident that you wouldn’t try to identify me sooner than I want. So for now, I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk again. At that time I might be able to provide you with additional information.”
Nick and Pete looked at each other. They realized that the informant held all the cards, and they really had no leverage.
Pete Mitchell cleared his throat. “Be assured that the SEC has great interest in pursuing this matter. We have assigned a dedicated team to research and analyze the information that you have provided. We will be seeking a subpoena that will allow us to seize records from the firm and substantiate what you have told us. Once that’s been executed, we will want to speak to you again.”
“Fine. It feels good to be on the right side of this. I will call again next week,” the informant stated. “I hope that by then you have your legal paperwork in order and are ready to move forward. Have a great evening.” He disconnected the line.
Mitchell was the first one to speak. “This will be big news, Nick, if what this guy is saying is true. We haven’t had a case like this for quite a while. I will call the federal prosecutor tomorrow to req
uest a subpoena for Jordano’s records. There’s nothing more that we can accomplish tonight. Go on home, and have a couple of beers. You’re going to be pretty busy once we get this rolling.”
Nick tried his best to keep his excitement in check. He realized this investigation could be the most important one he was ever responsible for. He hoped he was up to the task. “Okay, Pete. See you in the morning.”
Chapter 13
Saturday, October 25
The weatherman promised a beautiful autumn day. Harry rose at 6:30, quickly donned his sweats and sneakers, and headed out for his usual three mile run. Normally, he liked to run at least three times a week, but this was the first time in ten days that he had found both the time and the motivation.
Harry could see his breath as he turned left out of his driveway and ran toward Wendell Park, a half mile away. The oak trees that lined his street provided a canopy of color—a mélange of reds and oranges with a smattering of gold mixed in. The morning sun was reflected in the sheen on the dew drops that clung to the leaves, making them sparkle like small diamonds. Fall colors only lasted a few weeks in New England, but their beauty attracted thousands of tourists to the region. Many bed and breakfast inns found this time of year to be their busiest season.
Harry increased his pace and turned onto the jogging path that lined the ball fields at the park. Although the morning was cool, Harry started to break a sweat—it felt good.
He saw Jim Winslow, a neighbor from three doors down, walking his German Shepherd/collie mix along the path, coming towards him. Harry felt badly that he hadn’t spoken to Jim since the day of his wife’s funeral two months earlier. Jim had been devoted to Ruth during the last three years of her life, when Alzheimer’s was taking her memory and made everyday living difficult.
Jim held the dog’s leash in one hand and a wooden cane in the other. Harry was surprised – he’d never seen Jim with a cane before. Since Jim looked lost in thought, Harry called out loudly.
“Good morning, Jim.” He knew that Jim’s hearing wasn’t the best.
His neighbor looked up, a bit startled. At first he didn’t seem to recognize Harry, but then he smiled and waved.
“Oh, Harry,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “Out for your morning constitutional?”
Harry reached Jim’s side and jogged in place. “Yes, I’ve been a slacker lately. He patted his stomach. “I need to keep running so I can still enjoy my Twinkies,” he joked. “How have you been, Jim?”
A cloud seemed to pass briefly across Jim’s eyes. “I’ve been well,” he responded. “It’s been an adjustment without Ruth, but I’ve managed to keep pretty busy. The kids have been over more often to keep an eye on me. I think they’re worried. I tell them I’m fine, but they still come. It’s been good to see so much of them.”
Sandy had spoken to Jim’s son Teddy last week, and he was worried about his father. Jim was seventy-five, and although he was in good health, the loss of his wife had been hard on him. Teddy and his sister wanted Jim to move in with one of them. But Jim was resisting any attempt to move away from the home that he and Ruth had built twenty-five years ago. Harry knew the house held many special memories for him.
Harry reached down to pat Sherlock, Jim’s dog. “How’s this guy doing?” he asked.
“Oh, Sherlock’s getting a bit long in the tooth, just like me,” Jim laughed. “But he’s been good company. How are Sandy and Jeremy? Is Jeremy still playing ball?”
“They’re both fine. Jeremy decided to not play this year,” Harry shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I guess he just needed a break.”
“That’s too bad,” Jim replied. “Try to keep him involved in sports. It’s the best way to keep teenagers out of trouble.”
Harry nodded in agreement. He didn’t want to get into a discussion right now about Jeremy. “I better get going before I lose my enthusiasm.” Harry still had more than a mile left on his route.
“It was great to see you, Harry,” Jim said. “Stop by the house sometime for a drink.”
“I will.” Harry waved goodbye and continued down the trail. He picked up his speed and his thoughts turned to the coming week. With month end arriving on Friday, the operations team needed to complete the Sierra Health adjustments so that all shareholder statements could be printed and mailed to customers on time. Harry planned to speak to Kevin Jacobs on Monday to ensure this happened. He prayed that this ugly episode would pass unnoticed by the shareholders who owned the adjusted accounts.
Harry crossed over the stone bridge that spanned Pine Tree Brook. The brook meandered through the park on its way through town before it spilled into the Charles River about a mile away.
He thought about Nora—and recalled the smell of her perfume. It was clear from the kiss in the elevator that she was interested in pursuing a relationship. They had made plans to have lunch again during the week.
Harry was looking forward to seeing her again, but he also felt guilty about it. His relationship with Sandy was on such rocky ground right now, and he felt powerless to improve it. They had tried counseling last year. But Sandy had a difficult time expressing herself, and the sessions floundered without her input. Harry considered continuing the sessions by himself, but work and other priorities always seemed to get in the way. He knew he was looking for affection that he wasn’t getting at home, and Nora seemed willing to provide it. He just wasn’t sure where it would lead.
Harry turned onto his street and sprinted the last hundred yards. He slowed and came to a stop at the foot of his driveway. A strange car was parked in front of the house—Harry noticed the government plates first, prior to spying the siren on the dashboard. The police.
Now what? he wondered. The front door swung open as Harry climbed the brick stairs.
“Hi Dad,” said Jeremy excitedly. “There are policemen here.”
Harry could hear Sandy speaking with someone. She sounded upset. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as he walked through the kitchen and into the family room, where he found Sandy seated across from Detective Scanlon and another officer that Harry didn’t recognize. She was still in her bathrobe and pajamas. They all turned as he entered the room.
“Good morning, Detective Scanlon. You’re up and out early.” Harry reached over to shake his hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Wainright. We have had some new developments about Ms. Monroe’s death that we wanted to speak to you about.”
Sandy looked distressed.
“Honey,” Harry said to her, “Jeremy probably needs some breakfast. Can you see what he might want?”
Sandy looked relieved to have an excuse to leave the room. “I’ll check on him,” she replied.
As she left the room and passed by Harry, she gave him a fleeting glance that was full of questions. Harry had told her very little of the events of the past week. Having the police ring the doorbell early on a Saturday morning was a shock that she was unprepared for.
“This is my partner, Detective Bennett,” said Scanlon. Unlike Scanlon, Bennett was razor thin and fashionably dressed, the Felix to Scanlon’s Oscar. The creases in his sport coat and pants were sharp and pointed. Harry reached over and shook Bennett’s hand. He was surprised by the softness of it and noticed that the detective’s nails had been manicured recently. Bennett didn’t seem cut from the stereotypical cop mold.
“What can I do for you, Detectives?” Harry plopped into the leather chair that faced the sofa. He wiped the remaining drops of perspiration from his forehead and hoped the sweat was from his earlier run, and not nervousness caused by his unexpected visitors.
Scanlon and Bennett sat across from Harry. “Let’s get to it then,” Scanlon replied in a raspy voice. “After I spoke to you yesterday, I talked with several of your employees. One of them told me that Ms. Monroe was involved with an irregular situation in the office that occurred on the same day as her disappearance. You failed to mention that.”
Harry frowned. “Well, it seemed unlikely t
o me that our office work was related to Julie’s disappearance and murder,” he replied tersely, not liking where this discussion was heading.
“Shouldn’t we be the judge of that, Mr. Wainright?” Bennett interjected. “It’s your job to give us whatever information we request, and we decide if it’s relevant.” His voice was an octave higher than most men. It made Harry wonder what the other detectives said about him behind his back.
“Here’s what we know. On the day that Ms. Monroe left the office early, an important transaction was scheduled to take place. Can you tell us about that?” asked Scanlon. He rubbed his hands together as if they were cold, but the Cheshire Cat look on his face made Harry think that the detective knew more than he was divulging.
I’d better be careful here, he thought.
“It’s true that a large transaction was scheduled, but in a firm our size, that’s neither unusual nor infrequent,” Harry replied dismissively. He tried to think who in the office might have provided the detectives with this information. Only one name came to mind: Jerry Haskins. Harry silently cursed him.
“Maybe so, but we understand this transaction was not processed properly, and that it was Julie’s team that was responsible for it. Is that correct?” asked Bennett. He had moved off the couch and was standing near the mahogany bookcase that ran floor to ceiling on both sides of the stone fireplace. He was intently examining the selection of first edition books Harry had purchased over the past fifteen years. If he touched any of them, Harry thought he might scream.
“The transaction was for one of our most important clients, so we do everything we can to ensure the accuracy and timeliness of the trade. Our shareholder system is capable of correcting any operational mistakes that may occur. Without that flexibility, any company our size would be significantly handcuffed.” Harry desperately wanted to deflect their interest in the Sierra Health fiasco. Bennett was reaching for a first edition of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.
“Detective,” Harry said sharply, “please don’t touch that book. It’s a rare first edition of the Dickens classic.” Bennett paused with his hand in mid-air and turned his head towards Harry. A small smile played on his lips.
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