A Girl Betrayed (A Leah Mason suspense thriller Book 2)

by Russell Blake

  The congressman fixed Angelo with a dark stare. “Easy for you to say.”

  Chapter 14

  Emeryville, California

  Leah arrived to work early, feeling guilty about having used up most of the prior day on a personal matter. She finished copying the papers Heather had given her and resolved to limit her sorting through them to an hour before turning to her official duties. Once they were stacked neatly on her desk, she returned the originals to the briefcase and texted Heather to let her know that she could come get them. Almost immediately a message arrived in her inbox from Heather.

  I fired Ramon. He caved after I threatened the police, and returned the laptop last night. If you want, I can drive up and drop it off when I pick up the papers.

  Leah texted back that she’d be in all day, and smiled at her ingenuity. As she’d guessed, the caretaker didn’t want cop trouble, either because he was illegal or because this wasn’t his battle to fight.

  She sorted through the copies, finding little of note until she came across the paperwork for the second mortgage, complete with Richard’s and Heather’s signatures. It was a large amount of equity to pull out as cash – almost two million dollars – and she didn’t recognize the name of the lender, which was located in San Leandro. She brought up Google Earth on her computer and zoomed in on the address, which appeared to be a strip mall near a residential area on the Oakland border.

  Leah zoomed in further, but couldn’t make out enough detail to formulate an opinion. It might have been a sales office, given the location. Still, a two-million-dollar loan made out of a sketchy building in a so-so area of town gave her pause, and she wrote down the address and checked the time. Only 8:40, so too early for anything retail to be open.

  She turned to her computer and did a search for the company, and found a website that described the company as a “hard money lender” and assured prospective customers that they could get cash fast for anything of value – automobiles, boats, homes. That sounded more like a glorified pawnshop, so she continued through the links until she came across a lawsuit against the lender, alleging predatory practices and charging prohibitive hidden fees. More searching revealed that the suit had been settled, with no additional information, leaving her wondering what that meant – whether the borrower’s ambulance chaser had ultimately given up when the company hadn’t rolled over and settled, or if the company had paid to make the bad publicity go away.

  She went back to the website and clicked on a description of loan terms and rates, and found that the rate started at double the typical bank mortgage rate for a good credit risk and increased based on the term and the loan-to-value, topping out at 70% on a twelve- or twenty-four-month loan with a balloon payment at the end. Leah turned to the paperwork and saw that the loan was a twenty-four-month at 8%, meaning that Richard was having to pay $160K a year to put the cash in his pocket – a steep cost if it was truly to lock in value and saddle the lender with the risk, as he’d described to Heather.

  Leah next checked the bank statements to see where the funds had hit, and found the two-million-dollar deposit. Within a week, though, the money had been withdrawn, with no accompanying explanation – simply a million-dollar payment to a precious metals dealer in San Diego via wire transfer, and another to something called Abacus Partners, LLC, in San Francisco.

  Just like that, the money had effectively disappeared. Perhaps in gold bars, perhaps something else, but off the radar. There was still eight hundred thousand in a brokerage account at the time, and two hundred and sixty in a cash account at the bank, but for a high-roller VC that seemed like a slim amount of net worth.

  Tracking back further, she saw that as of a year ago, the brokerage account had been triple the value, with far more holdings. She paged forward and saw sell orders beginning a couple of months earlier, with the funds transferred into a money market account, and then withdrawn with no description of the transaction other than a check number.

  The whole mess made her head hurt, and she’d only been studying the finances for an hour. She sipped her coffee as she made her way forward in time until the account was current, only to discover that all of the stocks were now encumbered by a margin loan, and the two hundred sixty of cash had been reduced to ninety grand.

  Leah looked for Richard’s salary deposits and spotted the latest one from sixty days ago. Perhaps he took his fee quarterly? Or could suspend distributions temporarily if the fund needed to use the cash for something else?

  Her frustration grew as she followed the money trail. She wasn’t good at this sort of analysis and wasn’t sure what she was looking at beyond the obvious. What was apparent, though, as it had been to Heather, was that assets were disappearing, and the balance sheet was losing value at an alarming rate, with no obvious explanation.

  Adam appeared at her cubicle at nine. She explained what she was doing and asked for his take. He listened to her summary and shook his head.

  “I don’t know. At first glance it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Those hard money lenders are pirates. You don’t go to one unless you’re desperate or want to do a deal with a minimum of scrutiny. They don’t care who you are or what your cash flow is, generally – they’re lending on the asset value, not your credit. If there’s a first mortgage in place, which there is for $1.6 million, to lend a couple of million, they obviously believe the property’s worth north of $4.5, which it easily could be. If you think of these groups as predators who are hoping for a default so they can buy assets at 60% to 70% on the dollar, you get the picture.”

  “So this would be the kind of deal you might do to get money fast, without affecting your other bank lines?”

  “Yes. But then the question is, why the hurry?” Adam paused, his brow furrowed, and then snapped his fingers. “Look up the spot price of gold, silver, and platinum around the date he got the loan.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe he wanted to take advantage of an extreme drop in value. That’s one of the things that would make sense. If it tunneled thirty percent, say, and he thought it was near the bottom and would recover, then a loan like that might make sense.”

  “How do I check that?”

  “There are sites that show historical prices. Scoot over. I can do it.”

  Leah rolled her chair to the side and Adam hunched over her keyboard and tapped in a site. A few mouse clicks and a chart popped up, which he studied for a moment before tapping some more. Two minutes later he stepped away from the keyboard, shaking his head.

  “So much for that theory. No obvious buying opportunity, just normal volatility,” he said.

  “Then he wasn’t buying metals opportunistically.”

  “No. In fact, as of today, he’d have lost about ten percent, not factoring in the loan interest.” He sighed. “Which makes no sense as a money guy, unless he just normally buys a million a year in gold, and the borrow and the buy aren’t connected.”

  “The timing’s suspicious.”

  “I agree. But I don’t know what to make of it.” He thought for a moment. “You said there was another million that went out to Abacus Partners? Maybe you should look into them and see what they do.”

  “It’s on my list. I already did a web search. Nothing.”

  “No website? That’s weird, in this day and age.”

  “The harder I look at this, the more oddities I’m finding,” Leah agreed.

  “That’s good, right? It means you might be onto something.”

  “I just wish I knew what,” Leah admitted. “At least we’ll have the laptop soon. Hopefully there’s something on it that will help – assuming you can unlock it.”

  “I talked to a guy who has a repair company. He says it’s doable. When will it be here?”

  “A friend’s delivering it this morning.”

  “Then maybe by tonight – around dinnertime. Which reminds me…”

  Leah smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’m good with anything. Seafood?
There are some good places nearby.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “Want to shoot for seven?”

  “Sure. You know where to find me. I’m thinking about running up to Oakland and the City later today, but I’ll be back before the rush hits.”

  “Going to check out the lender and Abacus?”

  She assented. “Got to start somewhere. I’ll come by your office when I have the computer.”

  “You going to tell me the name of this VC fund so I can research it while you’re gone? Now that you’ve whetted my appetite, it’ll give me something to do.”

  “Like you don’t already have enough?” Leah teased, and then gave him Richard’s information, cautioning Adam to keep everything discreet so Richard wouldn’t get wind of them nosing around.

  Adam assured her he would, and Leah went for her third mug of coffee of the morning. The favor for Heather had eaten up enough of her time so far, and she resolved to focus on the other stories she was researching and wait until the computer arrived to do anything more.

  Heather showed up at ten, looking like she’d just come from the spa. Her hair was perfect, and her complexion glowed with vitality. Leah met her in the reception area with the briefcase and couldn’t help but compare herself to her friend. Heather was a thoroughbred, a racehorse meant for the track, whereas Leah…Leah was a pair of sensible shoes, a CR-V to Heather’s Lexus.

  “Here you go,” Heather said, handing her the laptop. “Your suggestion worked like a charm with Ramon, who I hope I’ll never see again.”

  “You know that’s going to be trouble before long,” Leah warned.

  Heather shrugged. “I guess I’ll deal with it when it happens. You find anything interesting?”

  Leah passed her the briefcase. “A couple of odds and ends I want to look at. But nothing jumps out, except that most of your assets have disappeared. Which you know.”

  Heather gave a soft sigh. “Then I was right.”

  “Even the stocks. There’s an entry about a margin loan that uses the stocks as collateral. So they’re effectively worthless to you unless they go to the moon. Everything’s got a mountain of debt piled on it.” Leah paused. “I’m sorry, Heather. I wish the news was better.”

  “It’s not your fault. See what you can do with the computer. He doesn’t get back until tomorrow afternoon.”

  Leah watched her friend leave, her white summer dress flattering her lean curves, her shoes worth more than Leah’s watch, and marveled again at how deceptive outward appearances were. Her friend’s entire world was crumbling from the inside, and yet to look at her she was a happy, prosperous young woman with the world at her fingertips.

  Unlike Leah, who had work to do. She stopped by Adam’s office on the way back to her desk.

  “I made a reservation at a place five minutes away,” he said as she entered.

  “Cool. Here’s the laptop. Work your magic.”

  “Which will consist of taking it to my buddy so he can figure it out.” He grinned. “Sometimes knowing all the wrong people’s the key.”

  She returned the smile and winked. “Then it might be my lucky day.”

  Chapter 15

  Redwood City, California

  Rayansh paced in the kitchen of his modest home as his wife watched from the breakfast nook table, teacup in front of her, while upstairs their daughter was getting ready for school. The engineer was visibly troubled and hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since he’d returned from Las Vegas. His half-eaten breakfast was congealing on a plate by her side, his tea half drunk.

  “You have a good job, Rayansh. I know you’re not happy with the way things are turning out, but think of your family. Think of us. If you get fired or the company collapses, what happens to us?”

  “There’s plenty of work out there. Maybe not as good, but at least honest work.”

  “Why this, all of a sudden? Everything was going so well. We were going to be rich, no? Now suddenly you want to be some kind of…whistle-blower? How will that end well for any of us?”

  “I can’t rig the tests, Neena. I could never live with myself.”

  “Lani needs braces. The house needs to be paid for. Have you thought about that?”

  “Neena, this isn’t just about us. I told you, it’s dangerous for anyone working near the machine. We can’t allow it into the field as it sits.”

  “Then fix it. You’re the best. Fix it so it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

  “It isn’t so easy. New microprocessors will take time to source and test. And the thermal problem…I’m not sure why, exactly, that’s happening over time.”

  “But you think the right thing to do is to make enemies out of your boss and everyone connected to the company? You know how small this world is. You do that and you’ll never work again. We’ll lose everything we’ve managed to build.”

  “We have savings. And I have marketable skills. Maybe not as a director, but…”

  “In a recession? You’re a fool, Rayansh. You’re going to throw everything away on some crusade, and we’re the ones who will pay the price. Your family will suffer so you can tell yourself you made a difference,” she said, and pushed away from the table. “It’s selfish is what it is. Now I have to take Lani to school or she’ll be late. Sit down and eat, and stop this foolishness now. You can’t afford this, Rayansh.”

  Rayansh’s face contorted with anger. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said? Are you deaf, woman? You’re asking me to take part in a fraud. A fraud that will endanger innocent people. I won’t do it, and I’m the bad man? What kind of upside-down world do you live in, where everything’s about you?” He paused, hands shaking. “I don’t even recognize you sometimes. Honestly. Besides, it’s too late. I already sent the report to the venture capitalist.”

  Her face fell. “You do something stupid and ruin our lives, and you expect me to be happy about it? I thought you were smarter than that.” She gave him a withering look. “Obviously I was wrong.”

  Rayansh spun and made for the front door, his vision clouded with rage. For his wife to talk to him like that…the insult was like a slap across the face.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she called after him.

  “Out,” he growled.

  “You’re going to buy cigarettes, aren’t you? In spite of your promise to me…”

  “You don’t own me,” he said, and made sure to slam the door behind him, shaking the façade windows with the shock.

  Rayansh stormed down the block toward the convenience store on the corner on the main street, angry as he’d ever been at his wife’s confounding his moral obligation to be ethical with his responsibility to his family. His wife’s suggestion to turn a blind eye might have seemed pragmatic to her, but he couldn’t do it, and he knew that she’d never forgive him for doing what was right.

  It especially infuriated him that she’d nailed his intention to buy cigarettes. He’d quit two years before, but in times of high stress snuck one here and there, and was able to smoke a few and not go back to full-time addiction. That she saw it as her obligation to act as his conscience on something so trivial, and yet abdicate her responsibility on a tough decision like the one he was faced with, further annoyed him. She wasn’t his mother, she was his wife, and he would do what he wanted without seeking permission like a schoolboy.

  He crossed a small street and continued to the main intersection, thoughts racing. He had to do something. If Patrick was willing to risk everything and try to cheat on the tests, Rayansh would have no part in it. But he couldn’t just resign, or it would be a fatal blow to the company and his net worth, and would hurt everyone who worked for him – many of whom he considered friends.

  He’d prepared a report with all of the internal test data, working late and through the weekend to assemble all the information into a coherent format so his conclusion was fully supported. His wife had gone berserk when he’d told her what he’d done, resulting in the current domestic mess.


  Rayansh rounded the corner and entered the store. There were two people ahead of him: a portly woman with a flushed face buying energy drinks and candy, and a whippet-thin Asian youth buying lottery tickets at the counter. Rayansh shook his head at the sight, his mathematical brain recoiling at the stupidity of wasting money on something with lower odds than of being attacked by a black mamba in his shower. The youth paid and left, and Rayansh endured the woman fumbling with her coin purse after her credit card was rejected twice, completely unprepared to pay for her purchases in cash.

  Eventually it was his turn, and he bought a package of Marlboro reds and a disposable lighter. He looked up at the clock behind the clerk and saw that he’d need to hurry – he was already running late, although at this point being tardy for work was the least of his concerns.

  Outside, he opened the pack and shook out a cigarette. He stuck it in his mouth, lit it, and inhaled deeply, the familiar burn in his lungs oddly reassuring. He could feel his circulatory system constrict as the nicotine hit his bloodstream, and he blew a cloud of smoke at the sky before taking another deep drag, the act calming him almost instantly.

  He began walking to the corner, lost in thought, when a pair of unshaven men approached along the sidewalk, eyes boring holes through him. Rayansh slowed, some part of his reptilian brain sensing danger before he’d consciously processed the situation. The nearest of the pair shifted to his right, blocking his ability to dash into the street as the one on his left moved closer. A van without a license plate skidded to a stop at the corner, and the side door slid open. A switchblade materialized in the first man’s hand with a snick, but his face never changed, his expression unreadable except for the intensity of his glare.

  Rayansh held up his hands as his heart rate rocketed. “I only have a few dollars.”

  The man with the knife sneered. “You’ve been opening your mouth to the wrong people, haji,” he hissed. “Get into the van, or you’re dead,” he said, and closed the distance between them, the wicked blade held close by his side.