The Gold Club: A White Collar Crime Thriller

by David Haskell

  Phil noted the meta-details, then began to clatter-click away at his portable. He was building ‘bots, one of his specialties. Nothing subtle, and they’d have to contend with Infotech when it was all over, but it would work.

  * * *

  When they got back, the three of them had a late dinner. Truth be told, Ted would’ve preferred it be just the two of them, but Phil was still freaked out. Oddly enough, he’d been whining about how he missed hanging out with Til, too. So it was a threesome.

  There was something different about her that night. He knew it, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Trying not to stare, having been apart for so long things were a touch awkward anyway, but even so he knew something was odd. Not necessarily in a bad way, but definitely odd.

  It was Phil who piped in with the observation Ted had been struggling to attain. “Geez Tilly, you get a nose-job or something?”

  Til turned a shade darker and Ted dropped his fork, at once embarrassed for her and thankful Phil had sussed it out. Still, he had to defend her honor. “Phil, Christ! What’s the matter with you? Where’s your brain tonight?”

  “It’s cool,” Til said calmly, “I couldn’t very well expect you not to notice something so extreme.” The comment was directed at Phil, but some of it was certainly aimed at Ted, as well, who damned well should have noticed.

  Ted struggled to find something to add. “Well, this is a surprise, isn’t it.”

  “Not really,” Til replied, “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”

  “Just not with me.”

  “I don’t share everything that’s in my head with you, hon. Sorry.”

  She didn’t sound sorry. More like put-off.

  “I just...”—he stopped, looking around the other tables and lowering his voice—“I never really thought you were into that sort of thing, that’s all.”

  “I’m getting noticed now, Ted. It’s important for me to look the part.”

  Phil nodded, deciding this was a good place to insert his opinion, “She’s right, you know,” pointing a finger in her face, “I read about it in a blog the other day, everyone in Hollywood’s doing it. Can’t be in showbiz these days without getting some work done.” He laugh-snorted, then returned his attention to his plate.

  “Looks good,” Ted said, feeling like it wasn’t enough, but he could think of nothing better on the spot.

  “Thanks for noticing,” she quipped, not quite ready to let him off the hook.

  * * *

  “Why won’t you talk to me? Dammit, Ted, we’re losing bad here. I’m honestly ready to just give up.”

  Ted felt himself shrink back. It wasn’t the outburst that got to him, that was a common enough event these days. It was the ‘give up’ part, something she'd never said before, that had such an effect on him.

  “What do you want from me? I’m here all the time. I called you every day this week.”

  She looked disgusted, her nose all turned up. Ted clenched, ready to shoot something back, but she was quicker.

  “What good is any of that when we never talk about anything?”

  “We do talk,” he insisted, “we talk all the time.” He flailed around in his mind for something decent to throw back. “Maybe you’re just...I don’t think you’re listening, ever think of that? You just don’t listen!” That has got to be the lamest retort in the history of boyfriends.

  Til’s arms shot up in the air, like she was ready to hit him. He shrank back and turned away. Her moods were so unpredictable recently, he never knew whether to hug her or restrain her.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake Ted, I’m not gonna hit you. You’re such a pussy sometimes, you know that?”

  Nice. “Will you at least just calm down? I think we should be able to talk things through like rational—”

  “‘Like rational adults’, that what you were gonna say? I’m a child now?”

  “Like rational people, both of us. I’m not just blaming you.”

  “Better not be,” she grumbled, but his reasonable tone did serve to calm her somewhat. “We need to talk about things that matter, Ted, not just bullshit.”

  “Like?”

  “Like how are we going to keep going. Like how our lives keep splitting in separate directions.” She was getting worked up again. Ted wanted to stop her, but knew she needed this. “Like how impossible it is to keep what we have. How about that?” She took a breath and folded her arms. “You ever worry about that stuff? Cause I do, and honestly it makes me scared.”

  “Of course I worry,” Ted said, trying to reassure her, “but we’ll figure something out.”

  “That’s easy to say,”—her voice started to break—“but that’s not how life works most times, you know?” The last words came out choked, which impacted Ted more than he let on.

  Without adequate words to fall back on, he just held her and pulled her closer, trying to provide the strength she obviously needed. She resisted for a moment, then collapsed into the embrace. He thought she might be crying, but when he tried to look she held her breath so he couldn’t tell.

  * * *

  The rest of the night was okay. Not great, but okay. They didn’t fight, but they weren’t feeling particularly close, either. They ordered out and ate in silence. When it got late they turned off the TV and went to bed. They started kissing and progressed from there, but it felt mechanical. She wasn’t ready, he was overeager, so they were both glad when the sex was over with. They didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning into each other several times, and morning was just as awkward. Ted was almost glad to leave for work. When he got back she’d be gone for a few days. She had shows and interviews, would be too busy to see him, and that meant he could catch his breath and figure out how to make her happy—from a distance.

  In the car, in the midst of the commuter hell she was perfectly well aware of, she started messaging. The first of them were even-toned, almost friendly. But they got progressively worse:

  I really think we need to talk before I bail. Can we meet up near your place?

  No, he couldn’t. He was working and he had no time to leave the building for lunch.

  Look Ted, I can’t be the only one trying to make things work here. Either we have to do this together, or it’s time to think about options.

  He knew that they should talk, and he really, really wanted to, but he couldn’t get away. Hadn’t they already agreed to meet when she got back? Let’s just hold off until then, okay?

  What the fuck, Ted!? Hold off?? What, hold off on the drama? Is that what you’re implying. I don’t think—

  Her rants continued on like that for a while, each one more neurotic than the last. Knowing he’d pay for it later, Ted switched off his phone and went full screen to avoid notifications.

  ~ 25 ~

  Introductions

  The day of the meeting, there were numerous delays—mostly due to logistics, but also because some members ended up needing to stay back in order to avert suspicion. They had to get out while nobody was paying attention, since they couldn’t very well say good night and then get caught in the building later on. Then when everyone was finally in the same room together, Phil had to notice just how few of them were wearing their Gold Club laminates. This lead to more delays as he awkwardly tried to figure out what went wrong.

  “What happened to yours?” Phil’s disembodied, electronically altered voice demanded of one staffer, a misfortunate girl who’s only error was to sit to the immediate left of the screen.

  “Oh,” she said, fidgeting with her purse, “I thought it was in here. Guess I must have left it back at my desk.” She glanced around, searching for support, but most of the group had either averted their eyes or else were frantically searching for the suddenly-vital bits of plastic.

  Phil nodded, like he found the excuse acceptable. “What about you?” he said, not even all the way turned to his right yet. The man sitting there didn’t seem to care, shrugging as he reached for a donut. Phil’s eyes started darting
around, looking for someone more vulnerable to accuse. Ted instinctively reach down to grab his own out of his pocket and slap it on, askew but passable, just before Phil looked over. A lucky break, he’d almost neglected to bring it at all.

  “Okay, let’s settle now,” Ted warned, hoping to distract his partner and get the meeting underway.

  Phil looked huffish, but gave a nod to indicate that Ted could continue. Everybody else turned their attention anywhere but at Phil, eager to change subject and speaker.

  Ted felt a sudden dry tickle in the back of his throat. He realized at that moment that he’d never addressed such a large group before. Swallowing, he looked for water. With none in the vicinity, he cleared his throat instead, hoping his voice would hold. “Thank you...” he cracked, forcing him to clear his throat again. That brought the dry tickle to the front, leading into a coughing fit. This was sufficiently embarrassing in itself, but now Phil looked as though he were about to speak up again. Ted had no other choice but to dive in half-recovered. “The reason I—cough—reason we brought you all in today. Well, I don’t really need to explain in detail, just the broad strokes is fine. I mean, everybody knows why we’re here, so uh...” He stared into his computer screen, searching for friendly faces. Finding none, he plowed on, “Thanks for coming, by the way. Um, so the reason for this meeting. As you all probably know, there have been a few changes lately as far as the club membership and the way we’re taking in funds...”

  He got his rhythm after a few minutes, finding it easier to talk once Marge had finally gotten up to fetch him some water. He glared at her, knowing full well that she knew how distressed he was and made no attempt to bail him out. She sat there, almost like a Buddha, that tiny little smile annoying him to no end. He looked away from her, taking another sip. “...and so we really need to come to some sort of consensus. The best way to do that was to open up the floor to some debate, and uh, well, I guess we’re voting on it then?”

  He got no feedback. He decided it was time to allow others to speak up while he gathered what was left of his dignity. He was hoping for a quick end to the meeting, but had no such luck. It seemed like everybody had something to say, and none were pleased with their place in the pecking order.

  As the meeting soured, Marge was decent enough to withhold any told-you-so’s, although she did sit on her hands during the ruckus with a tiny smirk, allowing the anarchy to unfold. Not that she, or anyone else, could have calmed the malcontented bunch once they picked up a head of steam.

  The clock swung around to the second hour of the meeting. Good thing we did this after hours. He resisted the urge to call it a day. Better to get this all over with in one go.

  * * *

  Marge was so deeply immersed in her work, when the sound of the perch entrance opening hit her ears she jumped. Pursing her lips—a method she used to contain irritation—she craned her neck to get a look at who was coming. Phil. She switched off the computer after a frantic save, looking up just in time to meet his gaze and give him a disarming smile. As usual, he looked too distracted to notice.

  “Phil?” she called out. “Hey! Didn’t know you used this place too?”

  Phil stepped around the desk and stood on tiptoe, examining the security monitors that were mounted above the workstation. Nobody else was coming, for now. “From time to time, yeah. It’s the only remote station—”

  “—that’s wired into security,” she finished. “I know. Weird that they’d stick something so important way up here, huh?”

  Phil gave her a quizzical look. “It was installed for the founding CEO, so he could keep tabs. Everybody knows that.”

  “Everyone, Phil?” She was testing him.

  “Well, no,” he answered, “I guess not. Everyone in Infotech knows, though. All that extra wiring and connectivity has to be taken care of by someone. Kind of weird it’s still here after all these years, though.”

  “Yes, it is strange. Good for us, though.”

  Phil nodded, sneaking another peek at the monitors when he thought she wasn’t watching.

  “I gather you’re here to keep tabs on the security department?” Marge prodded.

  “On security?” He feigned confusion, but she could read him like a book. Then he shot back a quick, “Yes!” when it dawned on him that ‘yes’ was the proper answer. “Yes, I am.”

  Even though he was clearly lying, she didn’t press. She just said, “I see,” and looked away so he wouldn’t feel threatened.

  “And you?” he asked, “I mean, you’re doing the same thing?”

  “Something like that,” she replied, cautious with her answer, “but that’s not the only reason I need this terminal.”

  Now Phil really did look perplexed.

  “I’m supposed to make sure Hamm’s goons aren’t harassing the club members. Remember?” This was a fabrication, but she was counting on Phil’s scattered brain to react appropriately. He didn’t disappoint.

  “Right, of course. Gotta take care of the club members, right?” He laughed, rubbing palms against trouser-legs like he was wiping off sweat.

  Checking the displays to make sure the perch was clear, Marge used the awkward moment to escape. “Well Phil, you go right ahead and sit,” she said pleasantly, “I’ll just come back later.” She got up and swiveled the chair for him. He plunked down hard and stared up at her, mouth agape. Such an ungainly mess you can’t even talk to an old bag like me. Walking out with a cold air, she shut the door behind her and only then allowed herself to take a deep breath and shake loose the tension that had built up around her shoulders. Glancing up at the camera she knew Phil must be peeping out of, she smiled and gave him a sarcastic wave before moving out of view.

  * * *

  Phil was ignoring all but the most urgent business messages, so it fell to Ted to figure out who was interfering with the club. Why staffers would want to sabotage their own profits, he couldn’t possibly say, but it was definitely one of them.

  It would’ve been nice to have Phil’s help, as most of the damning evidence was computer related. They were being watched, their data was being manipulated, and clients were getting the shaft. All this was happening within their own system, using their own accounts.

  Ted pulled up the logs and sorted them by time, throwing out any that he or Phil must have been present for, which eliminated more than half. That still left a long set of records that had to be narrowed down. At first he removed Marge, but that eliminated too much. She had her hands in everything. He added her code back in and narrowed it down a different way—tracking which people were in the system at any given time and cross referencing for location. This had to have happened when nobody else was looking, they’d probably have been alone, so tracking it that way seemed logical.

  There were thirty-eight entries that qualified. He linked up a phone list and started making inquiries.

  * * *

  It wasn’t like Marge to leave her friends completely in the dark, but this was the new Marge—sick to death of being the one everyone relied on. She spent most of her time in the secret room, checking up on everyone, and every detail, nothing escaped her notice. It got so that Ted and Phil were afraid to approach her, since she would invariably have some dirt to dish out about one of the staffers, or a client, if not Ted or Phil themselves. It was like she was clairvoyant, and nobody felt at ease around her anymore.

  All this was fine by her. She didn’t want to deal with these people any more than she had to. She’d had enough of the grind, was completely over it in fact. Exhausted with being the one doing all the work, all the time, she was putting herself first.

  Even separating herself from the group didn’t solve all her problems, though, since the clients couldn’t be ignored. She kept her distance, but had no choice but to remain professional. Well, she had a choice, but she was a professional, and took pride in that fact even now. It wasn’t in her nature to shirk her responsibilities. But even by keeping it strictly business, she saved a ton of time. Sh
e’d had no idea how much time she had devoted to chatting and making all those ingrates feel special.

  * * *

  “I brought you into this because I thought I could trust you. Is there anything going on that would make me feel otherwise?” Fangue kick-slid the rolling chair out of his way and somewhat in her direction. Whether an invitation or a warning, she sat down anyway. They looked at each other, gauging the intensity level in the room. At least that’s how Judy felt, and she imagined he was of similar mind when it came to such games.

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” she replied, purposefully bland, just like he would expect.

  “You’ve been playing both sides.”

  Judy said nothing, crossing her own legs gracefully and folding her hands to complete the image. She stared daggers at him, but he gave nothing away, icy as always. She liked it.

  “I don’t like my people skimming,” he continued, “and I don’t want you interfering in their activities. You understand me?”

  The chart manipulation. Somehow he’d caught on to it. A little ticked off at herself for being so careless, she nonetheless felt her admiration for him increase. Respect was a turn-on, as was power.

  Message received,” she said. “Now can we talk about the real reason you brought me in here?”

  He finally cracked, smiling just so—a hint that he was impressed with her as well. “We’re coming up on the endgame, and I want you to start taking a more active role. Get close to the organizers.”

  “I’m already close.”

  “Closer, then. I want to know who all the key players are, and what they do. So far you’ve only given me drones.”

  “I gave you Klein. She’s hardly a drone.”

  Another glimmer of reaction crossed his face. Respect? Or was he just testing her? “Okay, that’s one. Find the others, and give me names as soon as you can.”

  She nodded and stood. One of her talents was knowing when to leave. There was nothing more to discuss until she delivered. Whether she was actually going through with it remained to be seen, but he didn’t need to know that yet.