by Isabel Jolie
“Interesting. And Maitlin didn’t get suspicious?”
“I don’t think so. He asked me out on a date.”
“Okay. Listen, I expect the operation will remain intact. If Blakely has concerns about Mitchell after learning this, I’ll reach out, and we’ll pull you. For now, keep your wire on. Even when you’re not in the office.”
“The auditory quality won’t be good in the gym. Or any nightclub.”
“Yes, but if he says anything, we want it on tape.” He’s right. I should have worn the wire last night. “You’re getting closer to Maitlin.”
I look away so he doesn’t see how much that hint of judgment angers me.
“It’s not a bad thing. It’s good. It’s what we want. This could be a career case,” he says.
That catches my attention. There’s nothing in his demeanor that indicates he’s joking or being a smart ass.
“Really?” That’s not the way I interpreted this case when I transferred onto the team.
“Yes. The Illinois AG briefed the New York AG last week. SEC coming in? If this ends up expanding beyond the little Stanford clique, it’s gonna be a big case.”
“And Walters still wants to focus on BB&E?” Bill Walters is the prosecuting attorney. He’s Mr. ‘I don’t want another Enron.’
“Sadie, BB&E is the cornerstone. It’s the how. This case is big. Get close to Maitlin, but if you get uncomfortable, let me know. Remember, my top priority is you. That’s what it means to be your handler.”
“Got it. Chase and his friends invited me to a wedding. It’s for Jason and Maggie, his friends who recently moved to Chicago.”
He glances over his notes. “Maggie is the one who worked for Senator McLoughlin’s charity?”
I nod.
“You should go.”
“It’s in Iowa. I’d be riding on Sam Duke’s private jet.”
“Send me the details on where the wedding is. I’ll look into getting backup in Iowa.”
“I can’t imagine backup will be needed.” He looks at me like I have no idea what I’m talking about. “Seriously. It’s a wedding in her parents’ back yard. In Iowa. It’s not going to turn into the Red Wedding à la Game of Thrones.”
“Send me the deets. I’ll let you know what the team decides.”
“Okay. Oh, one more person to check out. I emailed you. Garrick Carlson. He’s the guy who actually does the work on all the accounts we’re suspicious of. And I got the impression he’s not a huge fan of Maitlin.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, everyone else looks at Maitlin like he’s a superstar. He’d win Most Popular hands down. Carlson treated him the way people normally treat colleagues.”
“So, he might be the one guy who knows what he’s up to. Maybe the guy we can convince to turn.”
“Bingo.” I shoot him back with my fingers.
When I leave my meeting, I deflate. There’s little doubt Chase is involved, and I like him. If he wasn’t a bad guy, he’d be easy to fall for. I mean, at first I thought he was one of those guys who half-assed everything and got by on his personality, but he has multiple businesses on the side. He might have a carefree persona, but he’s driven. Unfortunately, I’m about to discover exactly how many lines he’s crossed thanks to that drive.
Monday morning, I’m in my office, scanning the news while drinking my coffee. I might be UC, but there’s comfort in routine and finding similarities between a person I’m pretending to be and the real me. That’s one of the things they teach us.
This case isn’t such a departure from my normal office dwelling self, but it’s still tiring. So many times when chatting with Rhonda or when making small talk before meetings, it’s been on the tip of my tongue to drop in comparisons between D.C. and NYC, and I have to swallow them because my cover story is I moved here from L.A. The other day, Rhonda was showing me pictures of her dogs, and I wanted to tell her all about my childhood dog Sam, but instead, I pushed it back and asked subtle questions about her dog. I was surprised to learn Maitlin has cared for her dog in the past when she’s gone out of town on vacation with her husband and kids.
Rhonda knocks on my door and steps in, a conspiratorial crouch to her posture. “Word is there’s a huge fight going on between Tom and Evan right now. Stay clear of the eighteenth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Karen called from the executive floor to warn everyone.” She smiles with clear pleasure over spreading gossip.
“Do they fight a lot?”
“Yes and no. But when they do, bad moods all around. Stay clear.”
I pretend to check my calendar and in a conspiratorial tone say, “I think I’m in the all-clear. No executive-level meetings today.”
Chase’s booming voice echoes down the hall, along with a chorus of “hey, man” and “good weekend?” She wiggles her fingers goodbye and exits, presumably to greet her boss with his coffee and share the gossip.
I reach down and pick up my briefcase. I open it and, using my FBI issued phone, send a text to Hopkins to check the tapes from Evan’s and Tom’s offices from this morning. Our team auditing the wiretaps would eventually listen, but we have so many wiretaps going on in this operation, it could take them a while to get there. And I can’t help but wonder if the Monday morning argument had to do with Saturday night. Or if Mitchell broke down and copped to agreeing to let the FBI into their offices. He swore to keep it private, but my gut tells me Mitchell doesn’t deserve the trust the FBI has given him.
Thirteen
Chase
* * *
I lean forward, studying the numbers. Something is not right. Then I slip on my glasses, the glasses I’m supposed to be wearing periodically throughout the day to reduce eye strain when viewing the computer. I look back to my folder with the originals sent over by our client. The numbers remain the same. $14 million in expenses is missing.
I’m not sure exactly what he’s done wrong, but the profit margin is substantially inflated.
I grab my desk phone, tap Garrick’s extension, and ask him to come into my office.
I’m not a micromanager. I try to give my team the same respect I want from my bosses. Trust that they’re doing a good job. But when it’s announced one of your clients is being acquired and you know due diligence is about to be hot and heavy, then I figure I’m doing him a favor by looking over his work. Not to mention, Sydney’s going to be all over this. While she hasn’t told me where she’s starting, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out South Fork Research will be a priority. Egg on face.
Garrick comes into my office with a frown. He’s never particularly happy, but this morning I can’t help but notice his hands are balled into fists like he’s looking for a fight. And he doesn’t have a notebook or any way to take notes.
I point at the chair across from my desk. “Take a seat.”
His chin juts out, and his posture is stiff. He’s defensive, and I haven’t said word one.
“I was going over quarterly reports and found some inconsistencies. I need you to review South Fork Research.”
“I’ve already delivered everything they need for the acquisition.”
“Without getting the okay from me?” Seriously, dude?
“You don’t normally ask for approval for me to respond to a client request.”
“Garrick, you have to see how this is different. They are being acquired by a public company.” He’s clutching those armrests so hard his fingers whiten. “Look, what’s done is done. But I know there are errors. They’ve incurred some losses on patents they purchased in the past few years that are not reflected. Also, some significant purchases of medical equipment that should be amortized are not reflected.”
“Losses in prior years.”
“Yes…but they’ve still got the carryover liability. Where is it? And these revenues are three times higher than the prior year. Something which was not present on the original docs they sent over. Look, go through the numb
ers. It’s not adding up. Here…here’s the file from last year.”
He reaches for the folder and holds it out like I’ve given him my sweaty gym clothes.
After flipping through the papers, he asks, “Where’d you get this?”
“I keep printed files of all originals. Look, I don’t have time to go through it myself. I’m in back to back meetings. But they are being purchased. We need to get this shit straight. All it would take is someone comparing this year to last year’s tax filing, and they’d suspect issues.” His face contorts. “Garrick, man, I know you’re the best at what you do, but everyone makes errors. I am telling you, we are missing some losses. And if I had to guess, something’s not right in some Excel fields on those revenues. Find the errors, before our new internal auditor does when she double checks your work, or worse, before it’s discovered in due diligence.”
He scowls. He’s on the scrawny side, but still, if I was out at a bar, I’d be backing up and giving him room. But we’re in my office, and he’s my employee, and the whole threatening look act isn’t going to fly. I sit in my chair and throw him my best I am the boss pose.
“My last meeting’s at five. Let’s plan to regroup then, and you can let me know what you’ve found.”
“Are you going through all my accounts?”
I wasn’t actually planning on going through all his accounts, but I sure as hell am now. I can’t tell if he’s trying to intimidate me with his gruff question or if he’s just pissed I found errors, but either way, his vibe doesn’t garner trust.
“Yes. Need I remind you, we have a new CIA? She’s going to be looking for errors on every account. That’s her job.” Having Sydney think less of me isn’t something I want, so I’d rather we find the errors.
He stands, lips in a flat line, one hand holding the folder I gave him and the other balled into a fist once again. What’s he gonna do? Pummel me? He’s normally quiet and focused on work. This is a different Garrick. But, then again, I’ve never questioned his work before.
He leaves my office without a word. I swivel the chair toward my computer. The reflection on the large monitor serves as a mirror. I’m wearing my With great beard, comes great responsibility shirt. I could definitely have picked a worse tee for today’s confrontation. The trouble with this one is I’m not currently sporting a beard, more like rough scruff, because I didn’t feel like shaving. This morning in the closet, my pick made sense, but at this moment my two-day growth is markedly inadequate.
Shit. If there’s any kind of sign like it’s gonna be a bad day, it’s when I find myself questioning my wardrobe choices. With perfect timing, Sydney herself taps on my doorframe. She’s smiling and clutching several binders to her chest.
Both my laptop and monitor are open to South Fork Research documents. In a flash, I click on different windows. You’d think I was looking at porn, I switch out of those docs so fast.
She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Yeah, she probably thinks I was looking at porn.
“Did you have a good rest of your weekend?”
“I did. You?” I swivel my chair in her direction.
“Let me guess…you spent the rest of the afternoon at the gym?”
I check the time. Three minutes until it’s time to head up for the first meeting of the day. She shifts her binders, and the black button-down blouse she’s wearing shifts too, exposing the slope of one breast. She’s dressed professionally, but there’s something about the form-fitting blouse and the way it hints at what’s beneath that lures me in. She makes a noise in her throat. Busted.
“Some at the gym. Went over for dinner at Anna and Jackson’s.”
“I like them.”
“Yeah, they’re good peeps.”
I gather what I need for my marathon meeting day. Other than a regularly scheduled lunch with Evan, I’m in back to back meetings. Sydney shifts again. There’s a pink hue to her complexion. It’s not hot in here. The AC is cranking.
“So, I don’t know if the offer still stands, but I’ve been thinking about that wedding…”
Holy shit balls. She’s going to go away with me for a weekend.
“What?” She tilts her head with her question, and one leg bends in a way that pulls her black slacks and highlights the curve of her ass. Her pose is demure-like, yet flirty. She reaches out and touches my forearm. Oh, yeah. “Why are you grinning like that?”
“You want to go with me to the wedding. Of course I’m grinning. You just made my day.”
“I mean, as friends.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“No, really, Chase. Friends. I’ll pay for my own room. Send me the information, and I’ll make my own reservations.”
“No way. You come as my guest, I’ve got it.” She huffs, and it’s adorable. She may play the Frost Queen game, but she came in here all on her own. I know what’s going on. And I have to say, I’m game.
I follow her out to the elevator where we meet up with Rhonda. The two ladies lead the way, which gives me a chance to fully appreciate Sydney’s rear in her black slacks, sans panty line.
As we head to the elevator bank, Sydney asks, “Any word on what Tom and Evan were fighting about?”
Rhonda answers, “No. Not yet. But definitely steer clear of the eighteenth floor. According to Pam, Tom hasn’t returned to the office yet.”
She gives me her ‘you poor boy’ look because she knows I can’t just steer clear. I’ve got not one, but two meetings up there today.
Fuck. With great beard comes great responsibility, indeed.
Fourteen
Sadie
* * *
It’s almost eight p.m., and Chase’s office light is still on. I’ve been hanging in my office, attempting to follow him out the door to randomly meet up at the gym again. He’s been in meetings all day, but he piqued my curiosity this morning. It’s completely possible he was just texting a friend or wasting time on a video game, but whatever he was doing, he most definitely didn’t want me to see.
Everyone else has gone home. The office is empty, and the only sound is the faint buzz of the fluorescent hall lights. My neck muscles are sore, and the small button wire in my shirt is rubbing my skin raw. It’s time to call it a day, but first I’ll stop by and see if I can learn anything more about what has Chase Maitlin working late.
I pause in the doorway and watch him. A few pieces of hair stick out from the right side of his head as if he’s been pulling on them, and he’s wearing black frames I’ve never seen before. The black frames give him a studious persona. Yes, with those glasses, he’s rocking a sexy book nerd look. His sportscoat hangs on the back of his office chair. There’s a stack of file folders on his desk, a pencil in his mouth, one in his hand, one behind his ear, and his focus is on the large monitor on the corner of his desk.
I inch forward enough to see the screen. It’s an Excel sheet. The folder on his desk is also open to report details in Excel format.
I softly tap on his desk. “Hey.”
He sits back in his chair and removes the pencil from his mouth. There are dark indentations all along the yellow paint from his teeth. He frowns and glances between me and the monitor.
“Everyone’s gone home. You going to be leaving soon?”
He glances at his wrist, then rubs the side of his face.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know what I’m dealing with yet.” His voice is low, and it’s as if he’s talking more to himself than to me.
“Anything I can help with?”
He scratches his chin then lifts his glasses and rubs his eyes. He sets the black frames down and rests his elbows on the edge of the desk. “I have a feeling you’re going to be very involved. But…” His voice trails off, and he fingers one of the file folders on his desk. He sighs. “I’ve found some errors. But the more I dig into it, the less I think it’s an accidental error, and the more I suspect it could be purposeful manipulation of the numbers.”
I sit
down in the closest office chair and let my briefcase slide to the floor. I hope my wire is working. “What makes you think that?”
He looks at me, but it’s a vacant stare as if he’s looking through me. He shakes his head and exhales. “Look, it’s late. I might be overthinking things. I might…I could be wrong. Let me do some more digging into this, and if I need to, since you’re our new internal auditor, I’ll come to you.”
“What are you worried about?” Give me something.
“I’m worried I might have to fire someone. Have you ever done that? Had to let someone go?”
“No.” Be honest when you can. Undercover 101. “But I’ve been in a situation where I found out someone had made mistakes. And I got them in trouble.”
He leans back in his chair. His eyes glaze over again as if he’s slipping back into his thoughts.
“Is this someone you care about?” I ask.
He inhales loudly, and his chest rises. “Not like what you may be thinking. But it’s someone on my team. And…it could be a big fucking mess. You know South Fork Research?”
“Yeah.”
“Like I said, I’m still digging into it. But if I’m right, there are some errors that could impact that deal. It could be some serious egg on BB&E’s face.”
“Are you worried about your job?”
For the first time since I’ve entered his office, he smirks. A touch of jovial Chase returns. “Nah. There are days I don’t even know why I’m in this job.” He raps the desk with his knuckle. “And today is one of those days.” He exhales and rubs his forehead. “No. I’m worried about my team. But…I still don’t know what I’m looking at. It’s like maybe I’ve watched too many crime shows and my mind’s off on a wild car chase.”