Carl also told him if he ever told another living soul what he was being said today, Brian would discover problems in his life from places he didn’t even know existed.
“What do you mean? Maybe I don’t want to be in the Millionaire’s Club.”
Carl had laughed and said, “You want to be a millionaire. I can see it in everything you do. You’re a lot like I was a few years ago. You want it all. And I can help you get it.”
He told Brian that a few brokers in the firm who worked for Carl were involved in a program whereby their customers couldn’t lose money.
“The way it works is that certain clients get orders filled for them only after the outcome of a transaction is known.”
Nicole leaned forward, a surprised look on her face.
“Brian. Are you saying they backdate fill orders to buy and sell stock for customers at a guaranteed profit?”
“That’s the deal in a nutshell.”
“And you’re a member of this neat little fraud club?” She stood. “Party’s over, buddy. You were wrong. You ARE a criminal.”
“Hey, wait a minute! I never told you I was a member of the Club. I didn’t join. I mean, to be perfectly honest nothing’s been done about it yet.”
“You expect me to believe that? You were the top salesperson on Bellicose Holdings’ offering. And that happened just because you were that good, all by your little old self?” She walked to her desk. He followed her.
“Not exactly. All of WT&C’s clients usually make money. That’s because the firm has so many blind pool offerings.” He was referring to the companies that went public with no immediate plans to use the proceeds.
“And blind pools make people money? In my experience it takes profits and real business operations and solid management to make company stocks rise. How do WT&C companies do it with none of that? Does your Millionaire’s Club also have a crystal ball?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brian explained the way the firm’s reinvestment program worked. He told her that the firm took these companies public then managed their portfolios of newly acquired cash for them, putting almost all the money right back into the next WT&C deal.
“I’ve given it a lot of thought. I have no doubt it’s legal so long as it’s fully disclosed. And it is. Always.”
Outside the window behind Nicole, Brian could see the sun setting through pink clouds. He glanced at his watch. It was 7:30.
“Got something else to do?”
Damn, she doesn’t miss a thing.
“No, just getting a little hungry.”
“We’re not finished. Don’t start drifting away just yet.”
She spent another hour asking him question after question about the reinvestment plan WT&C had created. He told her he knew of more than two dozen companies that had gone public and had their proceeds invested in each other.
Finally she closed her notebook. “Here’s what I think. It’s like a Ponzi scheme, but legal so long as it works.”
She was referring to the classic scam created in the early twentieth century by Charles Ponzi, where people were guaranteed high returns by investing with him. Instead of generating true returns, he used money from future investors to pay interest to the earlier ones. As long as he had new investors from whom to generate dollars, his scheme stayed afloat. Once he couldn’t pay interest any more, however, it all collapsed and Ponzi went to prison.
“It’s not a Ponzi scheme. First of all, everything that’s being done is clearly spelled out in the offering documents. The SEC approves the offerings. It’s just a series of blind pools, one after another.”
“I know what it is. But it’s a Ponzi scheme in one respect. If the flow of new deals ever stops, there won’t be anything to continue to prop up the older ones. They’ll all collapse like a house of cards. And I’ll bet then the SEC won’t be looking favorably on these deals. But you already know that. You’re a smart guy.”
She stopped taking notes. It was almost dark outside. “Let’s call it a day,” she said, standing and stretching.
“Want to grab a bite to eat?”
She smiled. “Thanks but no thanks tonight. I have plans.”
The disappointment must have shown on Brian’s face. Plans? He had never considered that she might be involved with someone.
She started laughing. “Wow! I rarely have that effect on people!”
He stammered, trying to think of a save.
“I got here at six this morning. I had Ryan bring in lunch so I could work through. Moving my day around to accommodate you didn’t mean I could drop my other stuff. I put in a normal workday and added time for you too. So I’m heading home to a martini and a good book in my pajamas.”
“None of my business,” Brian managed to blurt out. “I’m sorry…”
“No problem. I’d love to have dinner with you sometime. In fact, we need to do it. I want to learn more about Brian Sadler the person instead of just Brian Sadler the stockbroker. It’ll happen, just not tonight.”
She told him that the next two days would be devoted to Bellicose Holdings. Together they would look at everything they could find about the company and its elusive founder. She grabbed a briefcase and they walked toward the reception area. Only a few people remained at work in their cubicles or offices. Riding down together in the elevator, she touched his sleeve.
“I can help you even if you are a criminal. That’s what I do best. But it’s much more rewarding for me to exonerate people who don’t deserve the treatment they’re getting.
“At this minute I’m fairly certain you truly don’t think you’re a criminal. I’m also fairly certain the government thinks you might be. I’m also totally certain you are in the middle of a bunch of deals that, to put it really mildly, can’t pass the smell test. Do the SEC or the FBI have something on you already? Only time will tell. But if you tell me absolutely everything I can at least know which direction we’re heading and spend my time and your money the way I should be.”
When they were outside, he offered to walk her to her car.
“I’m in the garage just next door.” She touched his hand. “Have a good night. See you tomorrow afternoon. Get some rest.”
She turned and walked away.
He stood for a minute, watching her go, not wanting to let the reality of her fade into a memory.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was the Saturday before deposition day. The evening before, Nicole had told Brian they needed to spend several hours wrapping up all the loose ends. They would role-play – she would ask him questions and he would answer using techniques and methods she taught him.
She said she wanted to run some errands and go to the gym so they agreed to meet front of her building at 2:30 pm.
“I’m coming from a workout so don’t plan to dress up for our meeting. It’ll be a workout too. Count on it.”
Brian was able to park on the street since it was a weekend afternoon. A few strollers were on the Uptown sidewalks, window-shopping or sipping lattes outside of Starbucks. She came over from the garage, looking incredible in a tank top and a pair of gym shorts. Her hair was wet and she wore a Red Sox baseball cap. She was stunning, he thought. Brian had gone to the gym too; he wore a t-shirt and shorts.
They worked all afternoon and as usual it was dark when she called it a wrap.
“You’re ready. You’ll be fine.”
“And you’re great at this,” Brian said, leaning back in the armchair.
“I’m great at a number of things. I can cook like a master chef. I’m a marathon runner, when I take time to do it. And…” she stopped and smiled. “Well, let’s just say in bed I think I’m pretty good too.”
Brian looked at her. They had never even had the dinner she had promised him.
“That last part sounds interesting.”
She stood and pulled her tank top over her head. She wore no bra. Her breasts were small but perfectly round. Her nipples stood erect. She walked to the office door, lo
cked it and turned off the light. There was a full moon and the half-light in her office clearly illuminated her as, putting her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts, she dropped them to the floor. Now she wore only a thong.
She went to her desk, leaning back on it so that her hips were thrust forward. Brian leaned down and took off his gym shoes and socks. He pulled off his t-shirt and stood up. He walked over to her, his erection clearly outlined through his shorts.
“Well, what have we here?” She pulled down his shorts and briefs, taking him in her hands and moving up and down slowly. He uttered a groan as he reached to cup her breasts in his hands. He played with her rock-hard nipples as she gently rubbed the tip of his penis. He moved his hands down to her thong. She raised her hips to allow him to take it off.
Moonbeams played over her naked body as she leaned further back on the desk.
“I want to feel you inside me,” she said. He moved closer and she guided him into her. She was totally ready and he began to thrust slowly, in and out. She panted, her hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples.
“Give it to me,” she said hoarsely.
As he moved deeper inside her, his cell phone suddenly rang.
Not wanting to break the rhythm, he ignored the ringing until…
…he woke up. His phone rang again. It was on the nightstand next to his bed. He shook his head, not wanting to lose the momentum of the dream he had just experienced. He had a massive erection but he was all alone in his apartment. It was 3:30 am.
He answered the phone, and a raspy, gravelly man’s voice he had never heard before said, “Listen closely, Mr. Sadler. I know you’ll do well in your deposition. You help us, we’ll help you. You hurt us, and well, it’ll work the same way. I hope you clearly understand me. You’ve never done anything as serious as you will do a week from Monday. Don’t screw up the rest of your life. Be as smart then as you’ve been up to now and you’ll be healthy, wealthy and wise.”
The caller hung up.
Brian lay in his bed, his heart racing. All thoughts of the dream were erased as his adrenalin flowed. His heart was beating so fast he thought he might be having a heart attack.
What the hell am I in the middle of?
There was a lot of cold sweat, but no more sleep for Brian Sadler that night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The days at Warren Taylor and Currant went by quickly as Brian anticipated the close of the market each afternoon. The firm was always working on deals; although his focus was on the upcoming deposition, Brian continued to place stock in the hands of his clients, generating thousands of dollars a day in commissions for his own account.
Each day’s closing bell marked the beginning of his next meeting with Nicole Farber, who was quickly becoming an obsession. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. All day long he found himself recalling how she smelled, how she smiled, how she walked, how her naked body glistened in the moonlight.
I’m like a kid in high school, Brian thought as he walked to her office the Friday afternoon before his Monday deposition. But I have to concentrate. I can’t let my fantasies about her fog my thinking about the reason we’re meeting.
He had decided not to tell her about the phone call he had gotten during the night. Once he had calmed down and thought about it, he decided that it was best to keep this to himself for now. Brian wasn’t sure what the man had meant about his helping them, or even who “they” were. He wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew both from the tone of voice and what the man had said, that it was dead serious stuff. He had looked at the call record on his phone to see the caller’s number. The call originated from the 212 area code. He googled the number; it came back as unknown. So the call came from somewhere in New York City. No real help there.
Yesterday he and Nicole had gone into great detail about Bellicose. She had a computer-generated list of over a hundred questions, most of which arose from reviewing the S-1 offering document.
“When did you have time to do all this research?” Brian asked.
“It wasn’t me, babe. I have two paralegals dedicated to nothing but Brian Sadler right now. We’re spending your hard-earned cash like it’s going out of style but we’re making sure we’re fully prepared for deposition day.”
The next few days’ meetings were spent going over all the records Brian could locate. He gave her a copy of the WT&C confidentiality agreement. After reading it she placed a call to the FBI, telling Agent Callender if he wanted documents subject to the confidentiality agreement, he should subpoena them directly from the brokerage firm. She knew it was a long shot – a judge would likely force Brian to turn over the records, agreement or not, but she wanted to keep Brian out of a fight with his employer if possible.
Nicole had told Brian to bring all his records to her even if they were not going to be shown to the FBI because of the confidentiality agreement. He brought cold call scripts, client lists, all of his written notes and copies of a few emails he had gotten from the company about Bellicose during the offering. She looked at everything, made extensive notes and gave them back to him to return to WT&C.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Things moved along quickly. Nicole and Brian reviewed everything once, twice and a third time. Except for the few things Brian had chosen not to reveal to her, they had covered it all. And in his opinion, she had done a masterful job of preparing him.
They sat in her office on the Friday evening before his deposition on Monday.
“We’re almost ready. You’re going to do fine because you know exactly what to expect. Let’s meet here tomorrow afternoon and do some role-playing; I’ll ask the questions. It’ll help you get used to the style of questioning and the answers you need to give. I’m going to the gym before we meet…want to meet here around 3?”
Brian’s mouth fell open. It was the dream taking the form of reality.
“What’s wrong?”
He stammered an answer. “Nothing, nothing at all. I…uh, I’m going to the gym tomorrow too. I’ll see you here at 3. Gym clothes OK?”
She said yes and that she would meet him in the lobby, since the elevator required special access on weekends.
He walked out of her office, a déjà vu experience having unfolded before him. He went straight to Zen, where the evening crowd on a Friday night was noisy. The bar was jammed. He saw Jeff Spivey and Sam Cooper, the two brokers who had first told him about WT&C, sitting at a bar table nearby. They waved him over.
“How are you guys? Haven’t seen you in ages.” They worked on different floors at the brokerage firm and rarely ran into each other at the office.
“Let’s cut the small talk, Sadler,” Jeff answered. “Everyone in the firm’s about to shit bricks waiting to find out what the hell the FBI is looking at you for. What’s going on?”
Brian told them he didn’t know much except that Bellicose Holdings seemed to be the focus of their attention, and that was all he had been asked to produce records about.
“You going to be OK?” Sam asked. “I feel a little bad since I think that night at Martini Park is what got you interested in coming to WT&C in the first place. And you made a hell of a success, no doubt about it. But how’s this going to turn out, do you think?”
“I’m OK, guys. First place, I didn’t do anything wrong. All I did is sell a deal the bosses told me to sell. I sold it to people whose names I got from WT&C and I used techniques I learned from watching other people at the firm. There’s nothing they can accuse me of that everyone in the firm didn’t do. Now let me buy a round and let’s talk about the Cowboys. I’m sick of talking about Bellicose.”
The trio had dinner in the bar and continued to drink and talk until after eleven. During the evening Brian had gotten a number of calls, all from Carl Cybola. His phone was set to vibrate and he chose not to take the calls. He wouldn’t let Carl ruin his evening with the guys. He needed the break.
“Gotta go, guys,” Brian finally said, signaling for the tab. “This one�
�s on me.” He considered the irony of his paying the $400 tab this time, compared to his concern the last time they’d met as to whether he had enough room on his credit card to even buy his own drink. Things had certainly changed, Brian thought. He wanted to keep it this way.
Chapter Twenty-Six
As Brian retrieved his car from the garage, he called Carl’s number and it was answered immediately.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Hey, lighten up. I’ve been out for a few drinks and now I’m headed home. What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you what’s up. My time’s up. I’ve agreed to cooperate with the U.S. Attorney. I’m not supposed to be calling you or anyone else but after I acted like a shit at the office and tried to threaten you I thought it was the least I could do, to tell you before your deposition on Monday.”
“How did you know I have a deposition?”
“You think the U.S. Attorney’s not in the middle of this whole thing?” Carl went on to say he had a lot of information on the firm’s involvement with Bellicose and he had agreed to testify against several people at WT&C whom he could tie to Francois Rochefort.
“Let me give you a little tip. I told you awhile back I wasn’t taking a fall for John Spedino. And I’m not. He was Bellicose. It was completely his deal from the start. And you know how he got our firm to take his company public? I know, but I’m not telling you now, before your deposition. You don’t need to hear that from me. On Tuesday I’ll be telling everything I know to the U.S. Attorney, and I’ll be a free man. No worries, no problems, no Feds on my back.”
Wishing Brian good luck, Carl hung up. Brian thought he sounded upbeat for the first time since all this had begun. He’d tell Nicole all this tomorrow – it was critical information and could have a bearing on his own situation.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
He awoke on Saturday morning at 7:30, sunlight streaming through the window. Before he got out of bed, Brian thought about what this afternoon would bring. How close to reality would his dream turn out to be? Deciding to do nothing to change it, he went to the gym, timing his arrival at her building for 2:20 pm even though she had told him to meet her at three. In the dream, he had gotten a parking spot on the street at 2:30. Today there was nothing available. He circled the block three times then saw a couple heading toward a car parked in front of Nicole’s building.
Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet Page 9