by Bryan Devore
70
A WEEK AFTER Michael had met Sarah in the cemetery, on one particularly stultifying afternoon at the Denver Fed field office, Michael couldn’t imagine continuing on his current course for the next six months of his life. He knew what he had to do. The time was right. He sat up at his desk and composed an e-mail to Fredrick Kavanaugh, president and CEO of Cygnus International—an offer that the Texas tycoon would find hard to refuse.
That evening, he walked under the lights along the Sixteenth Street pedestrian walkway downtown. It was cold out. As Michael strolled past inviting Italian restaurants and stylish boutiques, he kept reciting in his mind the e-mail he had sent to Kavanaugh three hours ago. In it, he had requested that Kavanaugh call Michael’s cell when he was prepared to discuss the offer. Stopping near the Pavilion Theaters, he moved away from the crowds out for a bit of nightlife and looked at his watch for the umpteenth time since sending the message. Three hours and ten minutes. Knowing Fredrick Kavanaugh to be the kind of man who moved quickly to resolve problems, he was increasingly nervous that it was taking so long to get a response. Perhaps he had made a mistake in trying to contact Don Seaton’s nemesis. Taking a deep breath, he walked the remaining blocks to his apartment.
Entering his apartment, he noticed a foreign smell in the darkness. Reaching to turn on the lights, he was puzzled when the switch failed to illuminate the room. Muttering a curse, he fumbled through the darkness to a reading lamp in the corner, flipped it on, and turned back toward the center of the room. Then he gasped in alarm to find two men standing against the opposite wall.
“That’s quite a view you have,” said the taller of the two. The man who hadn’t spoken was stocky, with a flat nose and ears that had taken considerable abuse in the ring. At first glance, he seemed the muscle for the man who had spoken.
Michael forced a smile. “I was surprised that Mr. Kavanaugh hadn’t phoned me yet,” he said. “For a moment I was concerned that I hadn’t gotten his attention.”
“Oh, you got his attention,” the gangly one replied.
“So what now?” Michael asked.
“Now you come with us.”
Just outside Austin, the limousine pulled into a gated community, then through a second gate to a private driveway, stopping at an estate surrounded by stately cottonwoods and live oaks. Still trying to get his bearings after the two-hour flight, Michael stepped out of the car and was greeted at the front door. The servant led him into a wide hallway inside. “Just up the stairs here to the second level. This door, sir. Go right in. He’s waiting.”
“Mr. Michael Chapman,” Kavanaugh announced from behind the huge mahogany desk. “I’ve read so much about you over the past few weeks. Glad we could finally meet.”
“Mr. Kavanaugh, it’s a pleasure,” Michael replied to the CEO of Cygnus.
“Scotch?”
“That would be fine, thank you.”
The billionaire pointed to a shelf alcove in the corner of the room. “Third bottle from the right,” he said. “Glasses are just above.”
Pouring the liquor, Michael rehearsed the proposal that would nullify any trust and respect he had ever held for Don Seaton. Not too much, he told himself, taking a sip.
“Lovely estate,” Michael remarked as he took a seat.
“It’s a ranch. We don’t have ‘estates’ in Texas. Now, Mr. Chapman, exactly what the hell do you want? Your e-mail was quite enticing. Can you live up to what you promised me?”
Michael nodded and took a sip of whiskey. “I’m here to give you something you’ve wanted for a long time. But remember, my terms are very specific. This has to happen exactly as I say, or it doesn’t happen at all.”
“For Christ’s sake, Mr. Chapman, just get to it, will you?”
“I’m here to give you X-Tronic.”
A wide grin spread across the wily old tycoon’s face. “Continue.”
“I have evidence from the Treasury that implicates Don Seaton as the mastermind in X-Tronic’s fraud—testimony from two of the accused. As you know, a story was leaked to the press recently that Mr. Seaton would become the subject of an investigation.” He paused to let his words sink in.
“Then,” he continued, “the story disappeared—no fallout, no follow-up, nothing. Rumor in the Treasury was that Mr. Seaton had executed some emergency legal measures that illegitimized the deposition testimonies. A preruling was permitted in this case because of the costly damage the allegations could do to X-Tronic’s share price, which had already diminished significantly.”
“So Don Seaton’s untouchable,” Kavanaugh remarked.
“By the Treasury Department, he is. But not by you.”
“Mr. Chapman, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, or what ace you think you have up your sleeve, but if there’s anything I can’t stand, it a cheat and a liar. And you’re lookin’ a lot like both.”
“Mr. Kavanaugh, you have the ability to expose Don Seaton for what he is: a robber and a murderer. Now, that’s a lot worse than a cheat and a liar—which I am not, by the way.”
“Oh, come on, Mr. Chapman. I know everything about you that’s in the press, and a great deal that isn’t. You were an undercover agent for the Treasury for two and a half years. That’s a long time to live a lie. Lying to everyone in your life for what you thought was the greater good. Horseshit! Look where it’s gotten you: a professional betrayer who’s now been short-leashed by his masters. How do you like workin’ in the payment application section of that little bank in Denver? Already missing the glory days, I suppose. What’s your fella’s name again? Troy Glazier? Oh, he’s a piece o’ work, all right—runnin’ some clandestine operation for those Senate assholes in Washington. I reckon you’re a little bit grateful your daddy died too soon to witness the mess you’ve made of your life.”
“You would be wise to leave my father out of this, Mr. Kavanaugh,” Michael said. “I came here to talk business.”
Looking mildly amused, the man stood up from the desk and walked over to a wooden humidor. Taking a precut cigar from the case, he held a silver lighter to it. “Good for you, son. Nice to see you haven’t betrayed everyone.”
“Do you want to hear my proposal or not?”
“Mr. Chapman, don’t get sassy with me. We’ll talk at the pace I choose.”
The notoriously impatient billionaire, who had acquired more empires in the past three years than had all the firebrand generals of Napoleon’s armies, was now entertaining himself with such leisurely speech that Michael had no choice but to lob his pitch over the plate and pray that he didn’t line-drive it back into his face.
“I need your company to announce a hostile takeover bid for X-Tronic,” he blurted.
Kavanaugh began laughing so hard, the cigar dropped from his mouth and bounced to the hardwood floor. He bent down and, with some huffing, retrieved it. Then, his face rosy from mirth and exertion, said, “Just because I wanted X-Tronic a month ago doesn’t mean I still want it. Good Lord, son, look at how much has changed since the fraud was exposed. The company’s value is a tenth what it was before their little jack-in-the-box show at the shareholders’ meeting. All their top executives have either been arrested or jumped ship. One twin’s dead; the other has vanished. And now Don Seaton will soon be under fire from every agency the U.S. government can sic on him.”
“That’s why X-Tronic needs you. It needs your company’s umbrella. The market needs to see that there is hope for X-Tronic’s survival. New, strong leadership can restore it to legitimate strength.”
“Supposin’ I was interested—what about Don Seaton?”
“Fuck ’im. He masterminded this whole thing to regain control of his company, but he made one fatal mistake: he failed to realize the volatile, predatory nature of his own sons. When they overreacted and killed Kurt Matthews, they ended up propelling the implications of X-Tronic’s fraud to a level that became irredeemable. As much as Mr. Seaton continues to fight the market, he must know he can no longer save
the company. If you make a private offering to him before announcing the merger, he’ll accept. He owns the majority of X-Tronic’s stock again. He can make the deal without any shareholder vote. And he will.”
“How do you know?”
“If he doesn’t accept your offer, the company will go bankrupt before the end of the year. If he accepts, he’ll make a few hundred million when the value increases after you announce the takeover bid.”
Michael paused with his back now facing Kavanaugh. “There is only one thing I ask,” he continued.
“I’m listenin’.”
“I want you to buy every last share Mr. Seaton has to offer—I want him completely out of X-Tronic.”
Kavanaugh grinned as his large, white teeth crunched down on the remains of his cigar. “You really hate him, don’t you, son?”
Michael looked as if all the wind had been knocked out of him. He seemed to have drifted a thousand leagues from where he had begun. He had failed his father, his family, his friends—everyone. Was there nothing he could do to make his life good again?
“Why do you hate him?” Kavanaugh probed.
“I’ve stopped believing in the decency of corporate America because of Mr. Seaton.”
“You believed it was decent?” Kavanaugh chuckled as if Michael was now the butt of some new joke.
“When I was growing up, my father taught me that it could be. Then I did my graduate thesis on Mr. Seaton and X-Tronic. The things he did while building the company—there was no businessman in America I respected more. And during the X-Tronic investigation, I fell into his plan like all the gullible investors. I looked up to him like . . .”
“A father,” Kavanaugh offered.
“Like a mentor,” he replied. “But he betrayed both me and the very system I thought we were trying to protect. Because of him, I’ve lost faith in myself, and I’ve lost faith in everything that my father taught me about what corporations represent.”
“But you still want me to save X-Tronic.”
“You must agree there will be no layoffs,” Michael said. “I’m requiring that in writing. You can afford that.”
“What’s stopping me from taking over X-Tonic on my own? I don’t quite see how I need your help.”
“My evidence can persuade the Justice Department either way I wish. Without me, you’ll have no guarantee of avoiding antitrust blocking. But I can offer you testimonial evidence against Mr. Seaton that will ensure that the Justice Department looks very favorably on your takeover bid.”
“And in return I suppose you want a golden executive position in my corporation?”
Michael took another drink of Scotch. “No. I’m through with the corporate world, and I’m through with the government, too. I’m returning to Manhattan, Kansas, to be with my family.”
“What?” Kavanaugh belched. “Michael Chapman, the great federal superagent, is leaving the spotlight to disappear into the furrowed fields of Kansas? With all the publicity you’ve been getting, I figured you’d move into politics.”
“My mother needs my help. She hasn’t been doing well since my father’s death. It’s time for me to go home.”
Kavanaugh eyed him suspiciously. Then a wide grin spread across his pudgy face.
“Your deal is acceptable, Mr. Chapman. I’ll begin private talks with Mr. Seaton. We’ll agree on an initial bid and work from there. I’ll have him sign a noncompete contract to ensure that he sells all of his X-Tronic shares and cannot start another software company ever again. Hell, just like you, I’ll take personal satisfaction in seeing the old bastard kicked out of the business. You get me through any antitrust problems, and I’ll make sure the employees of X-Tronic are well cared for.”
“There is one more thing,” Michael added.
“Of course there is.”
“Lance Seaton. He’s responsible for the death of Kurt Matthews. I have reason to believe he’s tried to contact you. I want him.”
Mr. Kavanaugh leaned forward on the mahogany desk. “You take everything a little too personally, Mr. Chapman. That worries me some.”
Michael was silent. He had nothing more to say.
“Aw, hell, all right,” Kavanaugh growled. “I don’t know anything about Lance’s whereabouts or anything else incriminating, but I can give you a cell number that he might be using. With all your government contacts, that should be enough to find him.”
As Michael took down the number, he could think of nothing else but tracking down Lance. After all the harm he had done, it made Michael burn with rage to think that he may already have fled the country with a stash of money, ready to start a new life in one of the world’s many remote paradises.
As he left Kavanaugh’s study, he knew that he would never truly enjoy having his own life back as long as Lance was free to enjoy his.
It was raining when Michael left the ranch in the same limousine that had brought him. Halfway to the airport, he asked the driver to pull over. “I’ll be all right,” he said as he got out of the vehicle. “I just want some time to think. Thanks for your service. I’ll call a cab and get to the airport when I’m ready.”
He watched the driver pull away. Alone now, he stared across the black river of rain on the asphalt. Like a soldier after a war, he looked back at the arduous path he had survived, realizing with something like astonishment that he was not dead and now had the entire open mystery of his life still before him. Would the shadows of his past haunt him twenty years from now, on another rainy night like this? Would he at last be able to start living the quiet life he was starving for?
Splashing water warned of a car pulling to a stop behind him. Headlights illumined the threads of falling rain, and when he turned to look at the car he was blinded by two blurred halos around the headlights. Nothing else existed. Michael moved toward it, looking for the driver through the dark windows, seeing nothing but the dazzling lights. He had stranded himself on a vacant Texas road, and all he wanted now was to find his way back to Colorado.
The rain slapped his face. The outline of a man was now visible, standing behind the open door, pointing something at him. Take me back to Colorado, Michael thought. Don’t leave me here in the Texas rain.
The silhouette was now touching the car door. The man stepped toward him. “Did you get it?” the voice yelled over the rain.
“Yeah, Glazier, I got it,” Michael answered. “It’s a cell number we can use to triangulate his location.”
“Good job,” Glazier said with a slow nod. “Good job. Now let’s get your scrawny wet ass out of the rain.”
Michael nodded, but he felt too weak to move. He stood motionless in the rain, as if dazzled by the car’s headlights. He had been in the storm for too long, and now he had to wonder, how tough would it be to get back to his own life.
71
“DIAMOND AGREED TO turn State’s evidence for the prosecutor,” Glazier said as he poured Michael a drink from the small bar compartment between the seats. They were sitting in the government jet as it whispered through the night over the northwest corner of Texas. They would be landing in Denver within the hour.
“How were you able to get to him?”
Glazier smiled. “I wish I could take credit. To be honest, once Diamond found out Falcon had disappeared, he realized he was ending up with the short end of the stick. Since Lucas died and Lance went into hiding, I guess it rankled a little that he would be one of the few conspirators actually doing time. Well, once he started talking, it wasn’t hard to make a deal.”
“What kind of sentence reduction did you offer him? You can’t forget how much harm he did, not to mention any role he may have played in Kurt’s murder.”
“That’s up to the judge and the prosecutor, of course, and the trial won’t even begin for another nine months. But I told him the prosecutor would recommend a reduced sentence, from thirty-to-forty years down to fifteen. That would be for both the corporate fraud charges and any involvement in planning Kurt’s murder. He made it clea
r that it was the twins who killed Kurt without anyone’s authorization. Everyone just helped them cover it up even after things started getting out of control. He named Falcon as the head conspirator from within Cooley and White, and Kavanaugh as the mastermind who contacted the twins with the proposal to inflate X-Tronic’s earnings. That’s how the twins were able to justify the merger and help squeeze their father out. He also named a number of other people from X-Tronic’s management team that we hadn’t identified yet. For God’s sake, Michael, this thing’s like the Watergate of the corporate world. Everyone’s involvement in the corruption goes way further and deeper than anyone could have imagined. The deeper we dig, the more bodies we find. It seems the only one in the picture that’s clean is Don Seaton, but I know that doesn’t surprise you.”
“No,” Michael said. “Don’s more like the old caesar who found himself in the middle of a power struggle. But he survived, didn’t he?”
“Thanks to you, he did,” Glazier said. “Anyway, we’re wrapping up the indictments on Kavanaugh, but we won’t deliver them until we have a chance to look for Lance, just in case they’re still in contact. Thanks to the cell number you obtained, we at least have a lead to where he might be. My men are investigating it as we speak.”
“And what about me?”
“You?” Glazier asked. “You’re done. You’ve put more into this investigation than anyone could have asked. But now you deserve some time off. Take as long as you want. Visit Europe, for all I care. Come back to the Treasury when you’re ready. We’ll put you anywhere you want. You should try Washington for a few years. I think you’d like it.”
Michael was silent as he turned to the window and looked out at the dark night. The plan had worked. Sticking him in a dead-end job at the Federal Reserve had helped build the false cover that he was disgruntled and ready to make a deal. That had made it possible to lure Kavanaugh out with lies about incriminating Don Seaton. It had been Kavanaugh who shorted the shares of X-Tronic and made three billion in profits from the stock’s fall. The Treasury Department and the SEC had worked with Interpol and seventeen investment banks to track the financial trail of the convoluted transactions, but they had enough evidence for a solid case against the Cygnus CEO. Michael had been the only one to figure out that Kavanaugh had planned to use the scheme to finance a takeover of X-Tronic. He had assumed that Lance would contact the man after Lucas’s death. Both men would have figured that exposure of the fraud would devastate X-Tronic—if not collapse it altogether—after they failed to silence Michael. He knew that Kavanaugh was their best chance to get a fresh lead on Lance’s whereabouts.