Layton accepted without hesitation, confident that he could easily accommodate Mengalista’s request by calling in some political markers. “We have a deal. You give me Esteban’s death certificate, and I’ll fly you to Houston. We’ll give you a new identification, and set you up in business here.”
“No. New York City,” Mengalista countered. New York was the one American city he had read and dreamed about as a youth. He had frequently fantasized about one day experiencing the American dream in that beautiful and exciting city.
“No problem. Anywhere you want. I’ll make all the arrangements.”
“I’ll do as you ask, Mister Layton, but I suggest you do as you have promised. If you don’t, I will see to it that you never again own so much as a square inch of Columbian land.”
Jose Luis Esteban was assassinated and Layton was true to his word. Mengalista was flown, first class to New York at Layton’s expense. He used a passport identifying him as Lorenzo Mengalli. His credentials identified him as the president of Xylox Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Enerco. Layton threw in the apartment as an expression of his gratitude. As Mengalista had requested, his salary was one U.S. dollar per year, plus generous bonuses for the numerous services he provided to Enerco Inc.
CHAPTER 71
Toronto. Tuesday, April 31.
Jeffrey Wheeler, dressed in his dark blue Fitzgerald Pinstripe Golden Fleece suit, marched into the magnificent lobby of the King Edward Hotel. He stopped several feet inside the revolving door and scanned the elegant three story atrium, surrounded by statues and doric columns, Canadian flags strategically hung beside Union Jacks. He saw numerous people, but no Kerri King. He lifted his left wrist and glanced at his Rolex. It was exactly noon. He looked up and saw what appeared to be a woman approaching. She was dressed in a grey track suit, white running shoes, and a Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap. Her eyes were hidden by huge dark round sunglasses. Her hair was hidden underneath the turned up collar of a dark brown leather jacket.
She smiled and extended her right hand. “Nice of you to join me, Jeffrey. Welcome to Toronto.”
Wheeler frowned but accepted Kerri’s hand. “I would never have recognized The Iacardi Santa Claus. Maybe I should just tell everyone here who you are.”
“You do that and this meeting is over.” She pointed to the door. “I’ll leave and start making calls to people you don’t want me to talk to.” She paused and smirked as Wheeler gestured a surrender with his hands. “Okay, then let’s have lunch and talk.” She led her guest to The Victorian Restaurant, the hotel’s five star restaurant. They were seated at a table for two by the maître d’.
A waiter materialized and took their drink orders: Wheeler a Molsons Export, and Kerri a glass of pinot grigio.
“What have you got?” Wheeler asked, his expression showing anger and more than a touch of concern. “I’ve wasted a lot of time and expense to be here, so get to the point. I need to know how to behave.”
Kerri, her sunglasses and Blue Jays cap still on, leaned forward and glared at the man she hated with a consuming passion. “You’ve been a bad boy, Jeffrey,” she said, taking a measure of delight in reversing his opening comment to her at The Plaza the previous December. “Your company has been breaking a lot of rules.”
Wheeler shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearly annoyed. “Cut the bullshit! Just tell me what you’ve got,” he demanded.
“Okay. First I’m going to tell you what I know about Enerco’s special purpose entities. There are hundreds of them as you know. I’ll just talk about the five largest and most active. They are SP53, SP530, SP5303, SP53033, And SP530333. I have a ton of data on these entities, all of which adds up to irrefutable evidence that Enerco has been using them to hide losses from its shareholders. I believe you call them off balance sheet transactions. The material I have is very detailed, very accurate, and very incriminating. I’ll prove it if you want.”
Wheeler shook his head, expressionless, his mind processing a blizzard of implications.
“Next I’m going to tell you about mark to market accounting. Same story. Enerco, with the obvious and fraudulent complicity of Benjamin, Alexander & Gabriel, LLP, its esteemed accountants, has been gaming the system. It’s been using this accounting mechanism to book and report profits it hasn’t even realized. That’s against the law, and you know it.” She paused and glared at Wheeler, searching for a response.
Wheeler compressed his lips but remained silent for at least thirty seconds. “Where did you get your information?” he asked.
“You’ve already asked me that, and I told you it’s none of your business.”
“Does anyone, other than your source, know about this?”
“Not yet,” she lied.
“Then what do you want? I’m authorized to offer you anything you want, within reason. I can make you a very wealthy woman.”
Kerri closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want money, particularly not from you or Enerco. I do, however, want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Make a voluntary and public confession to the I.R.S., the F.B.I., and the S.E.C.”
Wheeler’s face turned white, as if deprived of its blood supply. “You can’t be serious… Why would I want to do that?”
“You probably wouldn’t, but if you don’t, I’m going to do it for you. You have one week, starting right now.” She smiled. “You still want lunch?”
Wheeler declined by shaking his head. He stood and left the building without a word. He took several paces outside the revolving door, then opened his cell phone and called Ken Layton. “We have a job for Mengalli. I’ll give you the details later. I’ll be in your office before five.”
Houston. Same day.
Wheeler, still fuming, barged into Layton’s office without knocking. He refused his boss’s offer of a chair and paced, first to the windows, then back to Layton’s desk. He steepled his fingers and fixed his reddened eyes on Layton. “It’s like I told you, Ken, only worse. We’re in big trouble,” he said, watching Layton’s rage building as he spoke. He proceeded to describe, chapter and verse, his Toronto meeting with Kerri King. “She’s given us one week to make a voluntary and public confession to the F.B.I, the I.R.S., and the S.E.C. If we don’t, she’s going to blow the whistle.”
Layton remained silent for what seemed like an eternity. His face was beet red, his eyes broadcasting a grim resolve. “That fucking woman!” he spat. “I thought we had her on ice. Now she’s got us by the balls… We need to change that, and fast. The alternative is unthinkable. We’re talking about Armageddon here. If that broad goes public with that information, this company unravels, and you and I get poor in a hurry. Probably worse. I don’t know about you, Jeffrey, but I’m not prepared to let that happen. This is my life. I’m not going to let that tree-hugging pussy take it away from me.”
“If it was my decision, I’d get Mengalli to whack her, immediately. Then she’s out of our way, forever.”
Layton raised his hands and pointed his palms at Wheeler. “That’s an option, but it’s a last resort. Killing The Iacardi Santa Claus is a very dangerous thing to do. Instead we to need to find and apply some equal and opposite leverage. We need to identify her vulnerabilities and squeeze them. We have a week to do it… Where did she get her information? Did you ask her?”
“Twice. She refused to tell me both times.”
“Obviously we have a mole, likely in the company. It could be in Benjamin, Alexander & Gabriel, but I doubt it. Too few of their people know what we’re doing, and I trust all of them. So ask yourself who, inside Enerco, has access to the detailed information Kerri King has. That should narrow your search parameters. I think you know it’s in this building, and exactly what section of this building.” He paused and pointed in the direction of Clarence Soloman’s office. “I don’t care what you have to do, Jeffrey, find it and kill it.”
“I’ll do it, but it strikes me as an exercise in futility, like shutting
the barn door after the horses are gone.”
“By itself, yes, but it’s only part of the plan. As soon as I got your call from Toronto, I spent some serious money. I hired the best private investigator in Toronto to put a full court press on Kerri King. I asked him to give me the complete book on her, what she does, where she lives, even the color of her panties. I told him I wanted it fast, and paid the price for speed. His information, together with what you’re about to do, is not an exercise in futility. I expect the combination to give us the leverage we need.”
Wheeler’s expression transformed from desperation to evil. “I’m already on it,” he said, then hurried to his office. He passed his secretary on the way. “Call Soloman and get his ass in here,” he ordered without stopping. He closed his door and paced impatiently.
Soloman arrived to find his boss still pacing. “You wanted to see me,” he said, expecting nothing more than a normal high pressure question and answer session.
Wheeler, omitting any formalities, pointed an accusing finger at Soloman. “We have a serious leak of sensitive financial information, Clarence. It’s somewhere inside your group, and I need you to identify it, fast.”
Soloman’s heart rate quickened. He knew immediately that Wheeler was referring to Sandra Schafer. He struggled to avoid showing any hint of worry or concern, aware that he was complicit in Schafer’s leak to Kerri King. If he identified Schafer, it was quite likely that Wheeler could discover his connection. He could lose his job and the full pension for which he had dedicated his entire career. “How do you know?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
“Have you ever heard of Kerri King?”
“Sure. She’s The Iacardi Santa Claus, the former president of Iacardi & Sons. Isn’t she supposed to come to Houston and work for you?”
Wheeler nodded. “I had a meeting with her in Toronto earlier today. In that meeting, she told me a lot about the confidential financial machinations of this company, enough to make me believe she was already working for me.” He paused and glared suspiciously at Soloman. “She had too much information, Clarence. I’ve concluded that there can be only one source: your group.”
Wheeler’s conclusion struck like a knife through Soloman’s heart. His boss was closing in and it was obvious that he was not going to stop until he found the perpetrator. Wheeler’s reputation in Enerco was legendary. Wholesale firings were all too frequently his answers to disappointment. To him, employees were necessary, but totally expendable. He spit them out like unwanted bones. Soloman had to find a way out, a way to deflect suspicion, a way to save his job and pension. He could continue to profess ignorance, or he could identify Schafer. He could be a hero if he did the latter. If she tried to implicate him, he could simply deny. It would be her word against his. It would be no contest. “I think it’s Schafer,” he said.
“Sandra Schafer?”
“Yes. She approached me some time ago and told me her conscience was bothering her. She told me a number of things the company’s doing that, in her opinion, were breaking the law… Her list was very long… Anyway, she told me she wanted to blow the whistle, but was afraid she’d lose her job if she did. She wanted me to get involved.”
“How did you respond?”
“I refused. I told her that irrespective of how the company conducts its business, my loyalties are, and will remain with it. I also instructed her to behave in the same fashion.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this when it happened?”
“I never thought she’d go through with it. I just put it out of my mind… I suppose I should have told you.”
“You’re damn right you should have! I should fire your ass right now!” Wheeler exploded.
Soloman was terrified. He had never confronted his boss on any subject. Even when he disagreed, which was often, he had always chosen to acquiesce, to save his precious job. This situation was different. He had no choice. “You shouldn’t do that… If you did fire me, I would be forced to dispense with my loyalties.”
Wheeler displayed a conciliatory smile. “You’re right. I shouldn’t. Thanks for your time.” He gave Soloman a dismissive wave, then stopped him before he reached the door. “You said you ‘think’ it’s Schafer. I’ll expect you to confirm that, real soon.” The smile was replaced by a threatening scowl. “If Schafer or Kerri King manage to get one word of this information into the wrong hands, you will be terminated, with extreme prejudice.”
CHAPTER 72
Houston. Thursday, May 2.
Ken Layton had a problem, perhaps the largest he had ever confronted in his long and successful business career. This one was life threatening. Solving it was not only essential, it was everything. Ever since Wheeler had disclosed the problem to him, he had spent hours agonizing over all of its moving parts, and the implications of each option available to him. The stakes were high. Failure to solve it would result in certain death for Enerco, his considerable wealth, and very likely, his freedom. The same fate would accrue to the three invitees at his high level meeting. It was time for him to demonstrate his leadership, his God given talent to think outside the box, his ability to prevail, even when the cards were stacked against him. He had devised a game plan, one he considered to be the most viable option in his fight to save Enerco, himself, and his trusted lieutenants: Jeffrey Wheeler, Andrew Speers, and Peter Tavaris. He had thought long and hard about including Tavaris, his friend but an untested rookie. In the end it was Tavaris’ hatred for Kerri King and his killer instinct that had gained him the nod.
Layton stood with his back to the windowed wall of his palatial office, silently making eye contact with each of his guests. The tension was palpable. Each of the four men knew that what was to be discussed in that room, that day, would determine the fate of Enerco and themselves. Although Tavaris and Speers were aware of the gravity of the situation, they had not yet been fully briefed on its details.
“Gentlemen, let me begin by saying that we have a problem, a serious one. In fact, it’s so serious that if we don’t solve it, and fast, it will ruin Enerco and all of us,” he announced, then paused to allow his statement to sink in. “For the benefit of Andrew and Peter, I’m going to describe the series of recent events which led to the problem… Two days ago, Jeffrey had a meeting in Toronto with Kerri King, the woman from hell. The meeting was called by her to inform Jeffrey that she had acquired a lot of Enerco’s most sensitive financial information, more than enough to prove that someone on the inside was feeding her. Needless to say, Jeffrey was shocked and disappointed. He was also skeptical, so he asked her to be more specific… She was very specific, gentlemen, specific enough to get his full and undivided attention. I won’t go into detail now, but I will tell you that she had threatened to take her information to the F.B.I., the I.R.S., and the S.E.C. She told Jeffrey that if we don’t step up and make a voluntary, and public confession, she’ll do it for us. She’s given us one week.”
Tavaris stared in horror at his new boss, shocked by his revelation. Once again, Kerri King was in his way, threatening his dream of wealth and power. He suppressed an urge to shout obscenities, then conducted a visual poll of his colleagues. The expressions of all three could best be described as morose, as if each had been advised of the death of a family member.
“I invited the three of you here today because, like me, you don’t want her to do this.”
“Where did she get the information,” Speers asked.
“Sandra Schafer. Soloman confirmed it,” Wheeler replied.
“Am I correct in assuming that she gave Kerri King information on our special purpose entities and mark to market accounting?”
Wheeler nodded. “She named all of the major Cayman Island SPE’s. I hate to tell you that she also has proof that Benjamin, Alexander, and Gabriel is playing the game with us.”
“That’s a fucking atrocity!” Speers shouted. “We’ve got to take her out!”
“You’re correct on both counts, Andy, but taking her out isn’t nearl
y enough, not even close,” Layton said. “This is the big casino. Do or die. We need to do more, far more, and we have five days to do it… Schafer needs to disappear, permanently. She’s stepped off the grid, and we need to make an example of her, to send a strong message to anyone who might want to follow her. Meanwhile, we’ll tell Kerri King that Schafer’s still alive, and will remain so, as long as she remains silent. This will buy us the time to do some shredding and amend our internal records. It’ll also give Mengalli the time he’ll need to get to silence that bitch, forever.”
CHAPTER 73
Houston. Friday. May 3.
As usual, Sandra Schafer was at her desk. She had been there since seven A.M. She had spent her first hour scrupulously reviewing the data required to complete Enerco’s financial report for the first quarter of 2002. She reached for the receiver of her desk phone when she heard its familiar warble. “Schafer,” she said.
“Sandra, it’s Jeffrey Wheeler. Could you come to my office? There’s something I need you to do for me.”
Schafer’s heart pounded. She immediately assumed Wheeler had somehow discovered her transgression, her betrayal of the company’s secrecy. It was abnormal for Wheeler to communicate directly with her on any subject. “Sure. I’ll be right there,” she said, then replaced the receiver and hurried to Wheeler’s office. His secretary gave her a smile and a wave. “Go right in. He’s expecting you,” she said.
Schafer entered Wheeler’s office with her fingers crossed and her heart in her mouth, now convinced the only reason he would invite her to his office was to terminate her employment. Her guilt had convinced her that Wheeler knew she had turned over Enerco’s most sensitive financial information to Kerri King.
KERRI'S WAR: VOLUME THREE OF THE KING TRILOGY Page 26