by Isabel Jolie
“No matter what’s going on with the two of you, you need to get your head in the game. South Fork has been in the press a lot since the acquisition was announced.” Does he not realize this? I barrel on. “Due diligence is coming. The stock price of the company buying them has shot up. That purchase can’t happen. There are potentially so many levels of fraud here. That’s where your head needs to be.”
Those beady eyes glower at me, and, based on his angry countenance, I halfway expect a balled fist is going to collide with my face. I stand tall, ready. Then he exhales, and a transformation occurs. His shoulders round, and he loses half a foot in height. He turns and grips the wall again.
“You’re right. You’re right.” He rests his arms on the wall. “So, how’d you catch it?”
“I keep printouts of all the original files. Garrick did a good job of covering it all up. But if you go back far enough, four, five, six years back, his sloppiness shows. He changed figures that don’t even match tax filings. You know, it’s very likely Garrick isn’t the only one who’s complicit. How you handle this is going to be the difference between being an Arthur Anderson or being a Price Waterhouse.”
Evan hauls himself up on the wall.
“Evan, it’s not that bad, man.”
He looks over at me and laughs. Maybe a few levels lower than Joker-demented-level laughing, but the crazed eyes and titled head land him several levels beyond sane.
“You think I’m gonna kill myself over this?”
I point. “You’re on the edge of the roof.”
He continues shaking his head, chuckling, producing an unnatural sound, and slings his legs over the other side. Yeah, that’s right. The side with the street twenty-two floors below.
“Man, I’m serious.” I step forward so I can launch myself and grab him if I need to.
His shoulders raise and lower, visibly breathing in gulps of air. The air is fresher than down on the sidewalks, but it’s not exactly country fresh either. I take another step forward.
“You ever sat up here? Looked down?”
“Never been up here before. I don’t smoke.” He’s nodding. Keep him talking. “You come up here a lot?”
He pats the wall beside him. “Come sit up here with me. It’s freeing. It makes you realize these everyday problems aren’t so big. Millions of people are going about their lives right now. They don’t give a shit about our problems.” He turns and looks me in the eye. “Come sit.”
I step up to the wall. There’s no way I can climb up on this thing without getting black shit on my shirt. It’s the shirt I’m wearing out tonight. He smirks down at me.
“You need a leg lift?”
Fucking twat. “I think I’m good down here on the ground. Where you should be, by the way.”
He points over at a brown plastic chair. Tons of cigarette butts are mixed in with the gravel roof. “Grab one of those chairs and step up here. Or are you scared?”
I am so sick of men who look down on the short guy. He’s a fucking dumbass to even be sitting on that stupid wall.
I stomp over to the chairs and drag one back. The sound of the gravel and the hum of something, I suppose the air conditioning or ventilation system, are the only sounds. A lone passenger jet flies overhead in the distance, too far away to discern the logo.
I pull the chair up to the wall and step up on it. I peer down. I’m not scared of heights, but we’re at a height that gives one pause. He pats the wall.
“Sit.”
I’m right beside him. Can see everything he can see. Can grab him if he decides to bust the move of a 1920s stockbroker.
“I’m good.”
“Sit. With. Me.”
I stare at the wall. I stare down. We are high in the sky.
The heavy metal door opens, and two smokers join us on the roof. They each have an unlit cigarette in their fingers, and one has a lighter in his hand. They’re far away from us. They hesitate, nod, and claim the far end of the roof.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out.
* * *
Rhonda: Five minutes.
* * *
“I’ve got to run. I have a flight to catch. What do you want me to do?”
I take a step back, far enough away to show him I’m not sitting on that damn wall, and close enough I can still snatch his suit jacket if he lurches forward.
“Fuck.” He slings his legs back over onto the roof and lands with a thud. “Is everything in those files?”
I pass them over to him and nod.
“I’ll go over it with Tom. Give me the weekend to come up with a plan, okay?”
“I figured you’d want to look into it. Other than during the wedding, I can be reached at any point this weekend.”
“Where are you off to, again?”
“Iowa.”
“And Sydney’s going with you?”
I lead the way to the elevator shaft, ready to get off this roof. His hand falls to my shoulder, and he spins me around when I don’t answer.
“Yes, she’s going with me. She met my friends last weekend, and they like her. Is that a problem?”
Even if he was with her before he hired her, it’s hard for me to give two squats because the guy is married. With kids.
We step closer to the stairwell, and he lifts his shoulders, regaining his full height. And another transformation occurs. He loses the glower. The old Evan is back. The guy I know and respect. No trace of the crazed joker. He’s calm as he squeezes my shoulder like we’re buds.
“No. I don’t have an issue with her. She’s smart. She seems to be doing a good job, although I did ask her if she saw any issues with South Fork, and she said no.” He raises an eyebrow in silent question.
“She wouldn’t have seen anything.” Everything on the portal, everything she has access to, has been altered. You need the original files, and prior years, to catch the adjustments and reclassifications.
“Well, can you do me a favor?”
The sound of the smokers laughing drifts through the air. They are far enough away we can’t hear their conversation, but they look happy. I stop looking at them and face Evan. Raise my eyebrow, waiting for it.
“Can you not tell Sydney about this? Let me meet with Tom, HR, legal, and the board. I need some direction. So, you know, we handle it the right way. PR will need to get looped in.” He runs his finger through his hair, sending his patch to Level 1 as he ticks off all the people he’s got to involve.
“Do you need me to stay here this weekend?”
“Nah, you go. I’ve got your number if we need to loop you in.” He lifts the folder. “I assume you’ve got a matching file you can reference?”
“Yes. And it’s on the portal, too.”
“Good. Well done, Maitlin. We’re lucky we’ve got you on the team. Once we get through this, we’ll have to look at how to reward you. A promotion is definitely in order.”
Sixteen
Sadie
* * *
I step outside BB&E’s building five minutes before schedule. The black sedan, a corporate car service, is parked on the curb in front of the building. I wheel my suitcase over to it, and the driver gets out and pops the trunk.
“Maitlin party?” he asks.
“Yes.” I gesture to my wrist. “I think Chase is going to be a little late. Do you mind if I go get an iced coffee?”
“Not at all. I have water in the back of the car.”
“Thanks, but I could use the caffeine. I’ll be back in a minute.”
While I’m paying the street vendor, my phone rings. I have an open view of BB&E. The coast is clear.
“Aaron?” He doesn’t call often, and when he does, there’s a part of me that expects him to be calling from a hospital. He’s working a gang, and the risk level is high.
“Can you talk?”
“I wouldn’t have answered if I couldn’t.”
“I’m coming to New York for the weekend. Send me your address.”
“I won’t b
e here. I’m going out of town.”
“For work?” There’s a mixture of disbelief and annoyance in his tone.
“Yes,” I snap.
“This is what I meant. It doesn’t work for us to both be UC.”
“Aaron. Don’t call me again. I do wish you all the best.”
I hang up and slide my phone into the side pocket of my pocketbook and zip it closed. A mixture of emotions ricochet. Guilt. That was harsh. My rib cage expands as I take a deep inhale of the crisp fall air. Relief. I don’t think I’ll hear from him again. I’m ready to put him behind me. Aaron cared most about Aaron. If anything, he tore me down.
The sun beats down on the pavement, and I tilt my head back to absorb it. Aaron and I only worked because I had no expectations and never pressured him for more. I never imagined he’d have trouble letting go. But that’s the thing. When you have few people in your life, your dependency on those few people strengthens, whether it’s deserved or not. Aaron’s been deep undercover for too long. I hope he gets a break soon. A real break, for a long time, so he can build a personal life. He’s lost touch with himself, but it’s not my problem. Maybe by refusing to be his crutch, I did him a favor.
The driver gets out of the car and leans against it, watching me as I slowly pace the concrete.
“I’m sorry about the wait.”
“No problem at all. It’s a gorgeous afternoon. But what time is your flight?”
I hesitate to tell him. If we were flying commercial, we’d be screwed. And, as it is, we might be forcing them to delay takeoff.
I pull out my cell to call Rhonda as Chase rushes through the revolving door. Within seconds, his small carry-on is tossed in the back of the car and we’re both in the back seat.
“Let’s go,” he says, more to the driver than to me.
Chase is all business. He’s tapping away on his phone. Presumably telling his friends we’re on the way. Grim is how I’d describe his expression. His lips fall in a straight line, and tension runs across his brow.
“Everything okay?”
He holds up an index finger as a silent shush and continues texting. I shift in the seat to gaze out the window. Storefronts pass by as the car whizzes along Park Avenue.
I take the opportunity to look at Chase. He looks good in a suit; some would say handsome. He’s a good-looking guy in a t-shirt, especially the tighter ones that fit snugly around his biceps. But in a well-fitted suit, he transforms into a respectable, driven, focused businessman.
When he’s finished, he swipes up and flips it over, face down, resting it on his thigh.
“Hey, had to deal with some things. You ready to go to the middle of nowhere?”
“I don’t think you can call Cedar Falls the middle of nowhere.”
“Ever been there?”
“No. You?”
“No. But I’ve got a good idea of what to expect.”
His brow is now relaxed, and he kicks back comfortably in the back seat of the car, crossing an ankle over his knee.
“You sure everything’s okay? You’ve seemed really tense lately.”
“You worried about me, Frost?”
“Well, yeah. You’re throwing me off with the suit. Is it for the rehearsal dinner or something at work?”
“Rehearsal dinner. Did you and Evan Mitchell ever…date?”
“What? Why would you ask that?” The question is so left field. The man’s married. I maneuver myself in the seat to better face him.
Chase opens his mouth like he’s going to say more, then closes it. Then he slips his phone into his jacket pocket and reaches down to pull out his laptop.
“If you don’t mind, I have a few emails I need to send before we reach the party plane.”
“No problem. Did you figure everything out on South Fork?”
He pauses. “I did mention something about that to you, didn’t I?”
I nod.
“I figured it out.” Then his fingers fly over the keyboard.
While he works away, I pull out my personal phone and send a text to Agent Hopkins.
* * *
SF: Suspect Maitlin alerted Mitchell to fraud discovery earlier today.
* * *
We have so many rooms to listen to on this operation, it’s important to alert the team when there are some offices that need priority surveillance. I slide my phone into my pocketbook with a discreet glance at Chase. His head is bowed, and all his focus is on the open laptop resting on his crisp, pressed trousers.
When we arrive, the Esprit jet sits on the tarmac, and our car drives up almost to it. Thanks in large part to our driver breaking speed limits and swerving through traffic, we made it here five minutes before three.
Chase takes my hand as we hurry to the ramp.
“Ready for the weekend?”
“I am. Are you?” I’ve only known the guy for a few weeks, but the apprehension radiating off Chase this week has been noticeable.
“I’m glad it’s Friday. Ready for a drink.”
We reach the steps, and I tug on his hand, forcing him to give me one more second before we’re in with the group.
“Will you tell me what’s going on?” I’m playing the role of a concerned friend, maybe even concerned love interest. Everything indicates the source of his stress is the key to my case.
“Yeah, Frost. When the time is right, I’ll tell ya.”
He steps aside and gestures for me to go up the stairs ahead of him.
The luxury private jet is by far the nicest plane I’ve ever been on in my life. Blonde leather seats and walnut tables lend a refined, luxurious design. The interior feels more like a posh den in someone’s home rather than a plane for transport.
Each of the couples is grouped together. Olivia and Sam are sitting in two seats with a small table between them, Mason and Delilah are sitting on a wide sofa-like seat in the back, and Jackson and Anna are in two seats on the opposite side. I glance toward Sam. Sam the billionaire, with personal security and a lavish life. I lead the way toward the empty seats closest to the richest guy on the plane.
Operation Quagmire hasn’t uncovered anything suspicious regarding Esprit Corp. Other than Maggie having worked for Senator McLoughlin, we haven’t discovered any additional connections between this group of friends and McLoughlin’s cronies. Agent Hopkins has instructed me to keep my ears open for any work discussions between Maitlin and Sam, but at this point, these guys aren’t suspects.
For my part, I’m not entirely sure what to think of Maitlin. His net worth is eyebrow raising. This weekend, I hope to gain some additional insight into how he’s accumulated over $12 million in his brokerage account as a mid-level employee living in one of the world’s most expensive cities. My gut says he’s not the guilty party, but I need answers.
The flight attendant offers beverages. I ask for sparkling water, since I’m on duty. But Olivia requests champagne for each of us to kick off the weekend, and to fit in, I accept a glass and automatically sip. The bubbly liquid goes down smooth. It’s light, cool, and refreshing. Delicious. As sober as possible is the goal.
Once we all have glasses of bubbly, Olivia raises hers and says, “To Maggie and Jason, and to a fun weekend with friends.”
We all lean toward the center of the plane to clink glasses. Chase finally sets his phone down and stops texting to join in the toast. I’m not sure who he’s been texting so furiously and emailing before that, but if I get a chance to sneak onto his phone, I will.
After the toast, we’re instructed to buckle our seats as we prepare for takeoff. I’m now facing Chase, and he has raised the small table that is between our two facing chairs. He rests his elbows on it, taking care to keep hold on the champagne. He has dark circles under his eyes, and when he exhales, his cheeks fill and push out. It’s as if he’s visibly breathing out stress.
In a low voice, meant for only me, he dips his head and says, “So, I forgot to tell you. We’re sharing a room at the hotel. They were booked, but I did g
et them to switch me to a room with two queens. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. This isn’t me expecting anything this weekend. It’s just, it made sense for us to stay where everyone else is, and I know I should have talked to you about it, but it’s been this insane week—”
“It’s okay,” I interject to stop his rambling. “Two beds are fine. Thank you.”
He relaxes back against his chair. “Thanks for being cool about it.”
“No problem.” I smile to reassure him. My own room would have been better, but I can deal with this. I didn’t carry a gun with me, and while I do have a wire tucked into my suitcase, should I decide I need to wear it, he wouldn’t recognize it for what it is if he saw it.
As soon as the plane ascends and levels, discreet seatbelt lights go off, and the captain’s voice comes on overhead. “Feel free to walk around the cabin. Our expected arrival time is 5:02 p.m. central. Lucinda, your flight attendant, will be available at any time. Should you need anything, simply press one of the call buttons. She will be distributing an afternoon snack for everyone in about an hour, but if you want anything to eat or drink before then, please let her know.”
Olivia raises her voice to the group. “Why don’t all of the girls sit together? I know Jackson and Sam have some business they wanted to go over on this flight, and Mason and Chase, you guys can continue one of your epic card games.”
Chase mutters under his breath to me, “Of course she assumes I don’t have any work to do.” I understand his frustration. Without thinking, I reach out and squeeze his knee. He gives me a private smile then addresses Mason. “All right. Come on, man. Let’s do it.”
When I stand, I squeeze his shoulder before heading over to the girls. His muscles are like iron rods without any give. He’s stressed, all right. We trade soft smiles before I head over to the sofa area for girl bonding time. I take Mason’s spot on the sofa beside Delilah.