by David Faxon
“You want to hang this guy? It's all here.”
“I don't understand accounting mumbo-jumbo, Conrad, so take me through it in plain English.”
For the next two hours, Conrad exposed the under belly of a corrupt organization, all of it supported and documented with evidence from the filched data files. His logic was unassailable, his diagrams understandable, the connections made clear. The company was a personal piggy bank for Castelo Branco. Page after page showed millions transferred from corporate accounts to personal accounts, in either his name or his wife's, and that was for a six month period only. The chief financial officer, the technical mastermind behind the scheme, processed the transfers. Castelo Branco himself controlled one of the companies that owned substantial stock in AZVL.
There were ghost companies, off shore partnerships, hidden debt, phony stock deals. The ghosts also received large loans from major banks then fed the money back to the main corporation under the guise of a healthy cash flow from operations. Phantom profits appeared on doctored income statements and balance sheets, particularly at the end of a quarter. Conrad noticed that the numbers at the end of a quarter didn’t square with balance sheet positions at the beginning of the next quarter.
Stock analysts and investors missed it. The share price soared. That's where Castelo Branco would make a real killing; selling thousands of shares at the inflated price, reaping millions. Cash flowed between and among the corporation and its false front entities. It was like using one credit card to pay off another. The bankers were kept happy. Conrad had deciphered amazingly complex transactions to ferret answers that explained how Castelo Branco, with the aid of his CFO, ran the operation and fed his voracious appetite for cash. Conrad had provided exactly what Connery had hoped. Except for the coffee stained folder, neat, understandable with no loose ends. He tied them all up nicely in the little bundle Connery had before him.
At the end of two hours, he was numb with technical evidence. Conrad did a great job translating it to laymen’s terms. Most of it he understood, some he didn’t, but it all held together, piece by piece, all documented, foot noted and cross referenced. Elated, he rose and congratulated Conrad, telling him he did a brilliant job then asked to have four copies made of the report. Conrad received eighty percent of the agreed on sum, the other twenty percent when copies were made. Ted also received the two thousand promised him. Connery reminded them again of the dangers they all faced if found out. They had to keep low profiles and avoid any tip offs to the people he knew were looking for them. They would meet again in a week when he had things sorted out.
CHAPTER FIFTY
From the fourteenth fourth floor of his hotel, Connery gazed at the busy scene below while sipping bourbon and soda. His plan was almost completed. So far, he had eluded Castelo Branco through a series of name changes and quick maneuvers. In less than a month, he financed the operation, made the right contacts, hired the right people. With everything in place for the final act, he requested cleaning service send someone up to take care of the mess left behind.
Later that night, he turned down the covers on the king sized bed, propped the pillows, opened his laptop and began to browse the Internet. In the middle of reading the latest news, he thought of something he should have done weeks back, but it never occurred to him. A few clicks of the mouse, and he was at his favorite search engine. If anything hit the newswires about him, or the demise of Hawthorne Capital, it stays on the Net and remains accessible. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He typed “Terrence Connery, Hawthorne Capital” and hit Enter.
All of the news items pertaining to him and his company, appeared on the screen. Stories of his death, his TV appearances, magazine interviews, company news. He scrolled through page after page, searching for anything linking him to fraud, federal indictments, SEC probes and arrests. There was nothing in the hundreds of articles he scanned. What he did find shocked him.
Dan Hewett Appointed Head of Hawthorne Capital
In a meeting of the Board of Directors yesterday, Dan Hewett, formerly Chief Investment Officer at Hawthorne Capital was appointed to succeed Terrence Connery who died unexpectedly last month in a plane crash. Mr. Connery, who founded Hawthorne, brought the company to preeminence during his twelve years there….
The article lauded Mr. Hewett’s role in guiding the firm through the recent financial crisis to a position of strength. The company announced the opening of two satellite offices in Brazil to take advantage of that country’s growing economy. Also announced was the promotion of Stephen Walters to the position of Chief Financial Officer. Walters was a protégé of Hewett’s. Connery tolerated him but never trusted him. He wondered why Hewett made such a lame brained choice, it wasn’t like him.
He closed the laptop and shut his eyes. How could I have been so stupid? Hewett told me the company was near collapse, showed me the figures, the SEC audit request. I bought it all. And why Brazil? The company had no connection there until Castelo Branco appeared from nowhere.
What became clear was a carefully executed plot by Hewett and Castelo Branco to gain control of Hawthorne’s four billion in assets under management. He was set up. There was no cash shortage, no software glitch, no questionable cross transactions, no SEC audit. It was all a lie. Hewett and Walters, who joined with Castelo Branco in the ruse, had suckered him. When Castelo Branco showed up, he swallowed the rest of the bait and got on a plane to Brasilia. The crash, and his announced death, made it all the more easy for the conspirators to pull off the scheme. He wondered about the meeting that was so carefully arranged and whether he would have walked away alive if he refused to comply. There were more reasons than ever to bury Castelo Branco, then take care of Hewett.
He grew tired trying to digest everything he had learned. The TV was on, but he wasn't listening. His mind was on other things. The question was what to do with the information he had acquired. Simply releasing it to the media might be enough to force the company into bankruptcy, but he wasn't ready to risk exposure yet. Now there was a new twist. He had to figure out how to deal with Hewett and get his company back. The revelation about his onetime friend and partner left him numb, but there was a silver lining. Until now, he assumed imminent indictment for fraud and years in prison if he returned to the United States. Now, all that changed. He was innocent, and once he finished his business in Brazil, there was nothing to prevent him from going back to the States. He smiled and pictured the look on Hewett’s face when he found out he was alive.
Bankrupting Companhia Do Azevedo would end the mining operations, and that would be good for the people of the Amazon. That is, until someone else came along. There were others just as greedy, but he would have the satisfaction of taking Castelo Branco out of the picture. This meant bringing him to his knees but stopping short of cutting his head off. He needed his money to finalize the deal he had in mind. Ill-gotten gains would be used to cure messy problems. He broke practically every other law to get as far as he had, so what would a little blackmail matter?
The approach was bold. Attempts to call the company and speak with Castelo Branco proved futile. He decided on a variation of the tactic used on him a year or so earlier. He heard the familiar:
“Executive offices, Companhia Azevedo.”
“May I speak with Senhor Castelo Branco, please.”
“I'm sorry, he's not available. May I ask who is calling?”
“Tell him he may want to take my call. My name is Stanley Provencher. I am in touch with a Reverend Templeton, and may have urgent information. He’ll know immediately who I am.”
“Hold please.”
“Go ahead.”
He guessed right.
“This is Castelo Branco.”
“Bom dia, senhor. I am sorry to trouble you, but I have met a Reverend Templeton. I think you might be interested in the information I have in my possession. Our meeting was unexpected, I assure you. I cannot tell you over the phone how our paths crossed, but he has told me an incredibl
e story. It will affect you and your company significantly. He has asked that I convey it to you in person.”
“Why can't he tell me himself?”
“Because he is dead.”
“How did you come by...?”
“I can't talk about that now. I am in the city for a very short time. This has interrupted my schedule, but if you wish to see me, it can be no later than 10 tomorrow morning.”
“Very well, my secretary will be expecting you.”
Castelo Branco hung up and turned to Jaime and Santos.
“Provencher! He’s the one you clowns have been trying to find for a month! And he calls here, to me? Leaves his name as if I know nothing about him? You were convinced he was Templeton, then this…Hawkes! When he shows his face here tomorrow, you better hope you were right.”
The next morning at five minutes before ten, Connery stood in front of the secretary, dressed in suit and tie, carrying a briefcase, looking very businesslike.
“Stanley Provencher to see Mr. Castelo Branco. We have an appointment.”
“He's waiting to see you. Please come this way.”
For the next several minutes, he would be at the mercy of a ruthless organization. Once again, he had it all on the line. Anything could go wrong. He knew his life hung in the balance. He also knew the name Stanley Provencher was his ticket to see Castelo Branco. In person. The door closed. He stepped into a large office with deep leather chairs and an enormous mahogany desk.
Behind the desk was the man who had taken a year from his life and would have taken much more. He had grown noticeably thicker around the neck and mid- section. His face was red. The first thing that came to Connery’s mind was an over ripe melon about to burst. Castelo Branco motioned toward the chair in front. So this is what it’s like to be at the center of a large crime organization? Connery’s eyes darted to several objects. Nothing unusual. On the desk were two framed pictures, one of an attractive woman, but it seemed dated. Maybe that’s what she looked like twenty years ago. The other, he could tell, was more recent. Something about the photography. A girl in her late teens beamed a broad smile. She too was beautiful. Written on the bottom corner were the words, Para o pai. Com Amor.
Connery failed to understand how a cold blooded killer, like Castelo Branco, could lead two completely different lives. What was in his nature that allowed that? Did it come from some primeval gene that would eventually disappear in the human race? Was it the same gene that contributed to the violence of the Machi-te? The questions flashed into his mind in the space of time it took for him to be seated.
In the chairs directly behind, were Jaime and Santos. Connery turned toward them, just to let them know their presence didn’t faze him. He saw the look on their faces. He had more than a faint resemblance to Templeton, yet they weren’t quite sure who he was. Connery heard the door lock behind him, obviously triggered by Castelo Branco.
“Senhor Provencher, or is it Templeton! Nice of you to come. Meet two friends of mine. I think you may know them. They've been looking for you and may have a little score to settle. ”
Connery remained undisturbed. Jaime and Santos looked at him menacingly. Jaime said:
“Provencher, Templeton, Hawkes even? Which is it? It doesn’t matter. You won’t leave in one piece.”
“Wrong on all counts. My name is Terrence Connery.”
He turned to Castelo Branco.
You do remember me, don't you? At least the name? You’re familiar with it. You and Hewett have been trying to take over my company for what- over a year now?”
It took the mining czar several seconds before he recognized who it was. Bewilderment turned quickly to rage. No one had made him look bad or gotten this far into his organization without meeting with some unfortunate accident, even senators. But why would Connery step into this arena unless he had something?
“You! You're supposed to be dead!”
“I'm a little late for our meeting. I was delayed when my flight was diverted; there was a little mechanical problem. Remember? You had plans, great plans to use me. You and Hewett. I since discovered what you're really into. You put me in hell for a year, fat boy. Now it’s your turn.”
“So you know some things. I really don’t care. You aren’t leaving here alive!”
Connery reached in his pocket. Jaime and Santos both drew their Glocks, aiming at his head.
“Hold on! You don’t think I’m so stupid as to just walk in here do you? This may change your mind.”
He passed a sheaf of documents across the desk, then turned on the recording from a small hand held device. Castelo Branco heard his own voice talking to Paulo De Santana about Senator Reyes. As he turned white, Connery assured him, calmly, that the originals were in a safe place. If certain people didn't hear from him within an hour, information would be released that would destroy him. The tape was only the beginning, however. His complex financial structure was peeled like an onion. The stock would collapse overnight if the documents were made public. Add to that, an unlikely witness to the murder of Reyes who he wouldn't find in a million years.
“You see, I’ve managed to breach your so called secure data base. Turns out it wasn’t so secure; piece of cake as a matter of fact. We got all kinds of interesting information that’s in that folder there. Read through it, you may learn some things. The part about bank transactions and phony satellite corporations are especially interesting”
Castelo Branco flipped some of the pages, paused at a few pertinent ones and knew he was had.
“What do you want?”
“Your money. I can do things with it. For a price, I can forget all this. It won’t be cheap, but you have no other choice. Are you willing to talk?”
“Maybe.”
“Get those two out of here! Next time you want to find someone like me, you should send people who are qualified. But there won’t be a next time, will there?’
Castelo Branco motioned with his eyes, but the look told them to standby. When the door closed, Connery continued.
“I’ve thought this over. The good news is, you get a free pass on Reyes and avoid rotting in a Brazilian jail somewhere.
The bad news is, I’m taking down your cash reserves considerably, both from the business and your personal fortune. Your company is essentially out of business once the transactions are completed. Most of the money will be used to undo what you have already done. What’s left is mine. Let’s say it’s a payment for the inconvenience.”
Castelo Branco was informed that he had to do two things. First, the promise of seventy million used to lure him to Brasilia a year ago would be wire transferred to a non- traceable bank account. With Ted's help, Connery would know immediately when the transaction was completed. Second, and most importantly, Companhia do Azevedo Limitada would cease all mining operations in the Amazon that threatened indigenous tribes. Another hundred million would be committed to cleaning up certain river tributaries fouled by the launch of Tapejo I and II. Those funds would be set aside in a special account administered by a team he would put together. Lastly, he had twenty-four hours in which to act. One minute beyond, the information would go public. If that happened, he would lose both his business and his freedom. Take the deal, and he would lose only the business.”
“I don’t see you have any choice. Once I found out who you are, I had a lot of time to think about how I was going to get even, Gordito. Let’s just say it’s real personal. First, there’s the matter of thousands of acres of rainforest you messed up at an enormous cost to some people I know. You're a piece of crap, and I should take you down, completely! I won’t because I need your money. Make no mistake, I know what you have. In return, you’ll escape paying for the murder of Reyes. While that disgusts me, I’ll have to live with it. Then there’s the matter of how you and Hewett tried to screw me over. I don’t have to go through that. I’m putting you out of commission, almost. You’re hanging it up, bowing out of the game. If not, I'll be all over you. It’s your choice.
Oh, and there are two friends of mine here in Brasilia, I’m sure you know who they are. If anything unfortunate should happen to them, well…it wouldn’t be worth your while.”
Castelo Branco was cornered. No one talked to him like that, ever. He stuttered, stammered, briefly considered strangling Connery, then thought better of it.
Connery reminded him about his friends who collected heads. Maybe some cool evening when he was asleep in his jungle hacienda, his would be one of them. It was a lie, but what did that idiot know? He wrote down a cell phone number, reminded him of the time limit, then left, not knowing if he would get out of the building alive. At the elevator, he pressed the down button. The wait seemed interminable, but finally, the doors opened. He walked across the lobby, through the revolving doors and outside to freedom. The next 24 hours would see if his demands were met, then he would contact the U.S. Embassy.
CHAPTER FIFTY ONE
Two days later, tropical air that filled the capital didn’t feel at all stifling as he strolled toward the embassy. The sky was brilliant blue with white, equatorial like clouds. Hours before, Ted informed him his demands were met, the money wire transferred as specified. On world stock exchanges, the price of Companhia do Azevedo Limitada plummeted. Castelo Branco would do everything he knew to fight it, but it would end in ruin. It was time for the final wrap up.
The past year, and his brush with death, brought radical change to his thinking. He was disgusted with Castelo Branco’s greed and deeply regretted his own treatment of Pam and the children.
The embassy loomed ahead; big, official looking, luxurious almost. Outside, Marine guards stood at attention as he walked to the island of concrete where the small outside office stood.
“Terrence Connery to see Ambassador Stevens.”
“Yes sir. Ambassador Stevens is expecting you. You're a little early.”