She steered the conversation onto campaign finance: always a hot topic and she laid out the facts as she saw them and the criticisms that had been levelled at him. ‘So where do you sit, Senator. Is buying political influence just another form of corruption? Or do you believe that what people do with their own money is their affair and any attempt to stop them is undemocratic?’
Pauli neatly sidestepped the issue, repeating his pledge that he wouldn’t take public funding even if it meant lending his own money to the campaign and so Cathy dug a little deeper into the source of his wealth – usually a tricky subject for a Democrat holding himself up as a man of the people.
‘So what prompted you to make the jump from law to finance?’ she asked. ‘That can’t have been easy.’
‘A lot easier than it sounds,’ said Pauli. ‘You see, Pauli Associates had always specialised in securities and tax law, regulation and compliance; that kind of thing. So when it came to making the move, I knew the industry from end-to-end – I may not have had the in-depth knowledge, but that’s something you can always bolt on afterwards or buy in once you understand the big picture.’
‘So how long ago was this?’
Pauli leant back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair while he thought. ‘Must’ve been twenty years ago, now. Time flies huh?’ Cathy nodded and he continued. ‘Yeah, I was looking for a turn-around opportunity, something with a good business model but lousy management, so that’s how I found Pinewood County Investments. The mutual fund business isn’t hard to understand, and if you stick to what you know and don’t try to make millions overnight, you can do very well for your investors and in the process, do well for yourself.’
Cathy let him take the conversation wherever he wanted while he explained the story of the company that had taken him from wealthy to near the top of the Forbes list. Next, she asked him whether any of his staff had followed him into politics and he told her about a junior trader he’d hired straight out of grad school. His name was Vince Novak and the young man was capable, ambitious and hardworking. ‘That’s all I ask from anybody,’ said Pauli.
She made notes while he filled in a few gaps in her knowledge of securities and trading and how Pinewood had succeeded when so many other companies had failed. At every turn he gave the credit to his teams rather than claiming it for himself. ‘So I guess most people would’ve left it there and spent the rest of their days on the golf course,’ said Cathy.
‘Yeah, I thought about it,’ he replied. ‘But a: I slice incurably and b: I have an incredibly bad temper. Every time I hit a bad shot I turn green, tear my clothes, you know, that kind of stuff.’
‘You don’t come across as naturally bad-tempered.’
‘That’s because I’ve learned to hide it. My late mother said I got it from my father.’
‘Perhaps this is a good time to talk about your parents. Could you –’
‘Maybe later.’
The suddenness of his reply took her by surprise. No hostility but the message was clear. ‘Sure, not a problem.’ She dropped the subject. ‘Well, Senator, at least our readers will know you’re human after all – you can make a fortune as a lawyer, a second in mutual funds but you can’t play golf.’
Pauli smiled and the threatened squall faded as quickly as it had blown up.
‘So then the move into politics,’ said Cathy. ‘The British politician, J Enoch Powell said that “all political lives end in failure”, so why set yourself up for a fall? From what you said earlier, you might as well have decided to become a golf pro.’
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I guess business taught me a lot about myself. I’ve got a lousy attention span and I’m only really interested in changing and fixing things. Once they’re fixed I get bored and want to go off and do something else.’
‘So you got bored with Pinewood?’
‘In a manner of speaking. Life was pretty easy by then. No man is as driven at forty as he is when he’s twenty, even if we try to kid ourselves by popping those little blue pills – for the record, that’s a joke by the way – and I was looking for a challenge that would take me through to when I was too old to do anything but play golf. My wife Janet and I talked it over for months until we were sure it was what we wanted and how it might affect the kids.’
‘And neither of you had any doubts?’
‘Sure we had doubts. Heaps of them. What if I didn’t get elected? What if I turned out to be just as bad as all the other politicians? What if I had to do business on the golf course? But the whole point was that Pinewood meant that we’d never be poor.’
‘Hardly likely, surely?’
‘No, but since you asked me about my childhood earlier, I’ll explain. As you may know, my father died when I was a few months old, my mother never learned to speak English properly and we were poor. We all carry around baggage from the past and poverty happens to be my very own steamer trunk.’
She took another tentative step onto thin ice. ‘I understand they were refugees from Nazi Germany. Did your mother ever talk about why they were in the camps?’
No reaction this time, the ice beneath her feet held. ‘Not really, I think it was all too much for her. When I was a kid I remember asking her about the tattoo on her arm and she told me they’d been imprisoned at Auschwitz, then Bergen-Belsen and that the British saved them when the camp was liberated. But beyond the fact that they were considered enemies of the regime – she never said why but I’m guessing they were communists – I don’t know why they were there, don’t know much about them at all. When the war finished they got out of Germany in the clothes they stood up in – no pictures, no furniture, everything they had was destroyed – and the German town she came from, which was called Breslau, is now Wroclaw, Poland.’
Cathy took a pace further onto the ice. ‘And you don’t know exactly when they got out?’
Still it held: Pauli didn’t react. ‘No, she never put an exact date on it. Like I said – sometime after the end of the war: summer 1945 at a guess.’
She decided not to push her luck. ‘And she never talked about what life was like in the camps?’
‘I think it was too much for her. You know, like soldiers who see terrible things on the battlefield, she just blotted it out. She used to talk about the good old days before the war and about her family, but they’re all gone too.’
‘Was her family Jewish?’
‘No, I don’t believe so. When the Russians advanced, the civilian casualties in Germany were huge, so it’s possible the rest of the family were killed then. She never said.’
Cathy weighed her next question carefully. ‘And do you find it hard to talk about, even now?’
‘I guess the answer’s yes. The war deprived me of a normal upbringing and then when my mother died in 1963 I was on my own – there’s no point playing “what if” – but I could just as easily have grown up as Erich Pauli, the German kid with a mom and pop as opposed to Eric the American orphan.’
‘You’ve come out of it ok, though.’
‘Yes I have,’ said Pauli. ‘And I don’t care if it sounds corny but that’s why I wanted to give something back to the country that gave my parents shelter and gave me the opportunity to grab life with both hands.’
‘Hence the political stance.’
‘Correct.’
Pauli continued the story of his move into politics and how he decided that his next take-over-and-clean-up project would need to be something bigger – like sorting out the finances of his adopted home state.
He told her about the consensus politics that allowed the state executive to duck hard choices and how the presence of a weak governor had led to a series of tax cuts and spending increases which combined to push the state’s finances to the point where its bonds were rated at below junk. The garbage went uncollected, the dead went unburied and in many cities, housing projects became no-go areas for under-funded police forces.
‘And it’s happening again,’ he said. ‘Califo
rnia will go bankrupt if they don’t do something similar down there and Detroit is starting to look like Alabama before Civil Rights.’
He gave her an abbreviated version of how he’d got himself into office. Campaign finance, publicity and establishing his credentials as man capable of action and reform were all givens and he was elected to the State Senate, unopposed, on a promise to sort out the mess or quit. ‘What I learned from running Pinewood was invaluable,’ he said.
‘I’ve read your press briefing pack and it mentions a “gap year.” What was that all about?’ asked Cathy.
‘That was when I was trying out to see if I could cut it in the big league,’ he replied. ‘National politics is much harder and far less forgiving than state level and if I was going to screw up, I didn’t want it to be on someone else’s dime.’ He told her about an exhausting year spent acting as unpaid CEO, CFO and Chief-everything-else for a Political Action Committee called “The Democratic Economic Reform Group”, that he set up to help support the Presidential campaign of the Democratic party’s candidate, running against a Republican incumbent at the height of an economic boom – a boom that the President had merely inherited and which turned out in the end to be nothing more than an over-inflated bubble. But it was a boom none the less and one that brought with it a feel-good factor for which he did his best to take the credit.
‘And did you feel like quitting when the Republicans won?’
Pauli waited a moment before answering. ‘Well, I could tell you that it only strengthened my resolve, but that would be lying. Sure I felt like quitting: guess I was too dumb to know when I was beat so I just learned my lessons and stored them away for next time. Anyway, somebody must’ve thought I did ok because when Senator Tomlinson died, I got the Democratic nomination to succeed him.’
Cathy took a deep breath and edged towards another delicate topic. Get this wrong and he’ll throw me out on my ear, she thought. ‘If we could just backtrack a moment, senator,’ she said. ‘I dare say you’ve seen the obituaries for Georg Reiss in the press. Did you or your family ever have any contact with him?’
Pauli’s face clouded and for a moment he seemed nonplussed by the question. ‘Er, well, no.’ He put his hand into his jacket pocket and seemed to be fiddling nervously with something inside it. ‘We’ve all heard about Dr Reiss’s scientific accomplishments. There were a huge number of Germans and Austrians who came to work on scientific projects in America after the war – people like Werner von Braun – but I don’t think my parents met any of them. Why do you ask?’
Cathy was about to reply when they were disturbed by a discreet tap at the door, followed by the appearance of Vince Novak.
‘Sorry to interrupt, guys, but you’ve got a five o’clock conference call, Eric, and if you want to prep for it we’re running a bit tight.’
Cathy turned to Senator Pauli. ‘But that went so quickly. And we’re not even up to the present day. I know this is a big ask in the middle of a nomination campaign, but could you possibly spare me more time?’
‘Sure I can. Vince will introduce you to my diary secretary and she’ll sort something out. It’s been a pleasure talking to you.’
‘Likewise,’ said Cathy, reaching down to turn off her recording machine. Lisa was right, the man certainly looked as though he was for real. If it was an act, then it was a damn good one. Trouble was, she hadn’t even got close to asking some of the more difficult questions – maybe she’d know more after the meeting with Reiss tomorrow.
Novak waited until Cathy had left the office and was in the elevator headed down to the car park before he broached the subject. Pauli sat with his elbows on the desk and his chin cupped in his hands. Something, Novak noticed – maybe the stress of campaigning – seemed to have aged the senator five years in the same number of days.
Pauli’s face was a picture of dejection. ‘Amazing who and what you find when you start looking around for junk in the attic,’ he said in a flat monotone.
‘Basement, actually,’ said Novak.
Pauli gave a snort of exasperation. ‘It’s a metaphor, Vince. I take it you know what a metaphor is?’
‘Sure I do, it’s a half-man, half-bull. Used to hang out underground in Crete.’
‘It isn’t a laughing matter,’ said Pauli. ‘This is one damn coincidence too many.’
Novak gave a dismissive wave. ‘Then don’t give her any more interviews. Freeze her out.’
‘And confirm every damn one of her suspicions? Sheer genius. I thought you knew how to handle this shit.’
Novak shrugged. ‘Whatever works. I stopped the interview for you, didn’t I?’
‘And don’t think I’m not grateful.’ Pauli stood up and began pacing up and down the office. ‘What if it was just a coincidence?’
‘Then nothing happens.’
Pauli spun on his heel to face his chief of staff. He glared at him accusingly. ‘And if it wasn’t?’
‘Then she’ll need proof, which she won’t get because there isn’t any.’ Novak walked over to the credenza and took out a bottle of Bourbon and two glasses. ‘I dunno about you, but I need one of these.’
Pauli nodded his approval and Novak poured. ‘It’s the question she asked about Reiss that worried me. Why him?’ Pauli asked, almost emptying the glass in one go.
‘Like you said; pure coincidence. It’s the out-of-Germany thing. A guy in England finds a whole bunch of stolen art. The Reiss story is famous – they even made a documentary about him for chrissakes – and the guy’s just died, so of course they’re going to see a link with your parents.’ Novak installed himself behind Pauli’s desk and used his PC to search for Reiss on the web. He tapped on the screen, leaving a greasy finger-print in the process, a habit that annoyed the fastidious Pauli immensely. ‘And hey, the link’s pretty tenuous – according to his Wiki entry, he didn’t even arrive in this country until late June 1945 – all the sources give the same date.’
‘Does that help us any?’
Novak paused for a moment, scanning the information on the screen. ‘Might do. Says here he was captured by the US Army in southern Germany at a place called Haigerloch during Operation Alsos – whatever that might be – taken to Britain with a whole bunch of other scientists and then flown into a military base in Delaware. Just like I said, no connection.’
Pauli held the glass in two hands, staring into the amber fluid as he swilled it around the bottom. ‘Maybe you’re right, Vince. Guess I’m jumping at shadows, but I’d be lying if I said she didn’t give me a fright.’
‘Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from. But either way, you’re going to have to get used to frights like that from now on – it ain’t going away, that’s for sure. I’ll do some more research on Reiss so if it does come up again, you’ll have the facts you need.’
Chapter Nineteen
A. still terribly depressed re postcard. Hasn’t spoken to me for nearly ten days. Going mad with boredom. Thank God they let me go to the shop on my own now – no one pays me any attention, just another Hausfrau. I see them following me but they think I’m too stupid to notice. My English slowly improving – can read a little, say a few words but understand almost nothing anyone says. Too fast.
*
The two men who’d met in West Potomac Park a few weeks earlier were not happy. Ronnie’s phone call brought bad news. ‘We’ve got a problem. A big one,’ he said.
‘What is it, Ronnie?’
‘The old guy in Princeton. The one who had a fall.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s got a son. Teaches math in Ontario.’
‘Shit, you’re kidding me. I thought you said there were no living relatives.’
‘I did. But you didn’t tell me to check for people born outside the US.’
‘But the old man was American.’
‘Yeah, I know that, but he didn’t start out that way. He was born in Austria and so was the son.’
‘Does he know about the letter?’
‘What’s it say?’
‘That Cathy Stenmark is going up to Princeton to talk to him.’
‘Shit. Can you do anything in time?’
‘We’re on the case already.’
‘Good man. Keep me posted.’
***
Cathy groaned as she hauled herself out of bed: it was still dark. She’d been up until two AM writing her piece on Pauli and researching further into what Robert Reiss had told her. There was a clear mismatch between the two men’s stories, but what she couldn’t get clear was the question of whose version of the truth was the right one, if either.
The flight to Newark was delayed. No reason, just delayed: “we never forget you have no choice”, fumed Cathy. Every time a flight’s delayed, she thought, there ought to be a law forcing the bastards to make an announcement giving the real reason – “we’ve got your money, our competitors are just as bad: screw you”.
She called Reiss’s mobile and his landline from Washington National but got no reply on either, so she left a couple of voicemails.
On arrival, her fears that she was caught up in a secret, world-wide conspiracy of the inept were confirmed: the rental car company had no notice of her reservation and at times the employee behind the counter moved so slowly that Cathy wasn’t sure whether he was still alive. The bovine stupidity written across the man’s face and the way in which his every gesture told her loud and clear that he couldn’t care less, that he hated the job anyway, and that he’d bank the same pay-cheque whether she got her stupid car or not, made her realise she was wasting her time. In a rage of frustration she gave up, told him exactly where they could stick their corporate rate and promised that if it was the last thing she did, their crappy company would be all over the cover of the next issue of New Horizons with the word “Assholes” next to it. The tirade didn’t shorten her journey, but the feeling of release was enormous even if she had to wait half an hour more to get a car via a competitor’s booth.
The Manhattan Deception Page 16