A security guard was sitting behind a reception counter, his face pockmarked from childhood acne and his eyes dull as lead.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone unfriendly.
“I’m trying to get information on the company. Is there someone I can speak to?” Leah asked.
“Who are you?” the guard fired back.
“I’m a reporter,” Leah said.
“Got any ID?”
Leah felt in her purse and removed her wallet. She showed the man her Valliant News card, and the man took it from her and placed it on a scanner. A green light swept over it, and he handed it back.
“One moment,” he said, and lifted a phone handset to his ear and turned slightly away from her. He murmured into it for several seconds and then hung up with a grunt.
“What kind of information do you want, and why?” the guard asked.
“I’m doing a profile on companies in the area and noticed your building,” Leah lied.
“Someone will be out shortly. You can wait there,” he said, pointing to a black vinyl bench near the door.
Leah took a seat and checked her messages while she waited. The guard returned to whatever he was doing, pausing to stare at her occasionally as though to verify that she hadn’t teleported somewhere else. Time stretched, and after twenty minutes, Leah rose and approached the guard again. “Any idea how much longer? I’ve got a bunch of these to do today.”
“Maybe you should go do them,” he suggested.
“I’m here now. I’d just like to understand how long this is going to take.”
He nodded as though he were agreeing, and then returned to his project, effectively ignoring her. Leah bit her tongue and returned to the bench, annoyed but unwilling to show it. More time went by, and she was becoming convinced that nobody was ever going to come out of the back when a man in his early thirties emerged. His blue suit was impeccably cut and strangely out of place in the casual work environment of Marin.
“Leah Mason?” he asked.
“That’s right,” she answered, standing.
“Sorry about the wait. You’re writing a profile on the companies in the area?” he asked, without introducing himself.
“Correct.”
“I’m afraid we’re not interested in participating. Thanks for the interest,” he said, and turned to retrace his steps.
“Just a minute,” she said. “Do you at least have any materials on the company so I can describe what you do?”
He turned, his expression unreadable. “No. We don’t have any materials, and we don’t deal with the general public. Again, appreciate the interest, but we don’t wish to be profiled.”
“Why not?” she asked, trying to get a rise out of him.
“Because it is company policy not to give interviews or do profiles. Now, not to be rude, but I’m asking you politely to leave.”
“All I want is some basic information on what Terra Megatrends does, how long you’ve been in business, that sort of thing. Basic puff-piece stuff.”
“Again, appreciate the interest, but no. Now please get off our premises or I will have you escorted off.”
Leah sighed and shook her head. “Wow. I’ve never been treated this rudely before by anyone. This is a first.”
She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch as though he was trying not to smile, but his cold eyes didn’t look amused. He didn’t say anything, instead staring her down, and she nodded and adjusted her purse.
“Fine. What’s your name and title? I’ll make sure to put it in bold for the article.”
“Please leave, Ms. Mason. Final warning or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” he said, his voice flat.
She held up her hands as though surrendering. “Super. Wouldn’t want to bother you any further. Have a nice day,” she said, her tone as frigid as his.
Leah shouldered the door open and stepped out into the sunlight, angry but also puzzled at the treatment she’d received. She made a show of taking photographs of the building with her phone and then marched toward her CR-V.
An American sedan pulled up beside the Honda when she was a few yards away, and two men got out. Leah slowed, unsure what was happening, and surveyed the lot. She realized with a sinking feeling that there was nobody around, so if she got jumped, there was no one to hear her scream.
The men approached and she backed toward her bumper. The heavier of the pair fixed her with a stare from behind his mirrored aviator glasses.
“You’re on private property,” he snarled.
“I was just leaving,” Leah said.
“That’s a good idea,” the other man said.
“Okay, then. Thanks for stopping to make sure I’m okay.”
Both men eyed her wordlessly. She triggered her remote and the locks opened, and she edged toward the driver’s door. The men stood immobile, and she offered a smile as she got into the car. She locked the doors, her heart pounding in her chest, and started the engine. When she’d backed out of the slot, she slowed and took a photo of the car’s license plate before speeding off, leaving the men standing with hands on their hips, watching her until she was out of the lot.
“Tell me that wasn’t weird,” she whispered, and took several deep calming breaths. She turned onto an artery that led to the freeway, and checked her rearview mirror.
The car was following her.
She frowned and accelerated. The car matched her speed. Leah rounded a turn, spotted the freeway on-ramp, and punched the throttle, a knot of anxiety coiled in her stomach. The car kept even with her and then turned off at the last possible moment as she merged into traffic.
Her phone jangled in her hand, making her jump. She raised it to her ear and activated the call.
“Yes?”
“Leah, it’s Adam. How’s the snipe hunt going?”
She exhaled in relief. “Really weird. I was just at Terra Megatrends.” She told him about her treatment and about the two toughs who’d shown up as she was leaving.
Adam sounded worried. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. Nobody touched me. It was just…everyone was really…menacing. That’s the word. Like, it was palpable.” She paused. “Anyway, all I learned was that the Terra people are serious dicks. What’s up?”
“I located the founder of the company.”
“You did? How?”
“Long story. But the short version is we have mutual acquaintances, and he agreed to see me.”
“Wait. You said the founder? His company just about ran me off the lot with shotguns.”
“He’s no longer with them. He had a heart attack right before the first big venture round and took a payout for his interest and got out. But I thought it would be interesting to talk to him, so I set up a meeting tomorrow.”
“Really? On a Saturday? That’s awesome. Where does he live?”
“He’s in San Francisco. It’ll be the two of us.” Adam hesitated, and his tone became playful. “So I’ll get to see you in action.”
“What time?”
“Eleven.”
“You’re a miracle worker, you know that?”
“Who’s available any night you’re hungry. Hint, hint.”
“Maybe Monday. I’m kind of swamped right now with everything else I’m doing.”
“We can talk about it on the way to the founder’s place.”
“Deal.”
Leah hung up and eyed her rearview mirror again, checking reflexively every few minutes until she was passing San Quentin Prison on her right as she neared the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge. Once on the two-lane span, the bay spread out like an azure mirror on either side of her, she relaxed, but even so the throb of a headache was beginning, and she made a note to stop at the first convenience store she could find and buy some aspirin, the malevolence of the Terra Megatrends personnel lingering even as she sped back to the safety of her office.
Chapter 26
Menlo Park, California
The receptionist at
Palladium Venture Group looked up in surprise as a dozen men crowded into the lobby. One of them approached her and handed her a document.
“FBI, ma’am. This is a warrant to search the premises and confiscate anything we need to for evidence. Is Richard Davenport here?” he asked.
“A warrant?” she asked, her eyes troubled.
“Answer the question. Is Richard Davenport here?” the agent snapped.
“Um, no. I mean, he didn’t come in today. I haven’t seen him since yesterday. His car blew up…”
“Yes. We know.” The agent’s tone softened. “We need you to show us to his office, okay? Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. Just cooperate and this will be easy.”
“He doesn’t let anyone back into his office,” she said.
The agent didn’t budge. “I understand. But we have a warrant that allows us to search the place, including his office.”
“Oh, um, sure. Look, maybe you should talk to Doug Nicholas. He’s one of the junior partners…”
“I’m sure I’ll get to. But for now, show me his office,” the agent ordered, out of patience.
A man in his late thirties appeared in the doorway behind the receptionist, a surprised expression on his face. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“That’s Doug,” the receptionist added helpfully.
“We’re serving a warrant to search the premises. It’s right there,” the agent said, inclining his head to where the document was still on the counter. “And we’re looking for Richard Davenport.”
“I told them he didn’t come in today,” the receptionist said, looking confused and more than a little alarmed.
“That’s right. He hasn’t been here since the explosion yesterday. He left after being questioned by the police, and we haven’t heard from him since,” Doug added. “Have you tried him at home?”
“Where’s his office?” the agent growled. “We’re wasting time.”
“There’s a lot of confidential, proprietary information in there. You can’t just barge in and–”
The agent cut him off. “I have a warrant. I can do whatever I want. Now show me where his office is so we can get this over with, or stand aside.”
“I’m calling our lawyer,” Doug said.
“Call whoever you want,” the agent snapped. “If the lawyer knows where Richard is, tell him to bring him in. My patience is wearing thin.”
“This is highly irregular,” Doug protested. “Let’s see some identification.”
The agent flipped open his badge case and held it out for Doug to see. “You can write it all down if you want. But we’re still going in.”
“I’m calling our attorney,” Doug repeated, but his voice didn’t sound as confident as before he’d seen the badge.
“Knock yourself out.” The agent looked to the receptionist. “Davenport’s office?”
The young woman stood as Doug scurried away, his cell phone clamped to his head, and led the team into the small suite of offices, past surprised associates and junior partners, to a closed door. She tried the handle and shook her head.
“Locked,” she said.
“Get a key,” the agent ordered.
“I…I don’t have one. Only Richard does.”
The agent frowned and motioned to one of the team. A younger man stepped forward with a set of lock picks in a leather wallet and knelt before the door. Thirty seconds later, the lock sprang open with an audible click, and the agent nodded in approval before turning back to the receptionist. “Go back to your desk, or maybe get a cup of coffee or something.”
“How long will you be here?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Please don’t make a mess. I don’t want to get fired for letting you–”
“Don’t worry. This has nothing to do with you. Take a break. We’ll be as careful as we can.”
Doug called out to the agent from behind the team. “The attorney said you’re not to touch anything until he arrives.”
The agent laughed. “The warrant is on the counter. Now back off, or you’ll be obstructing.”
“I…” Doug managed, and then his mouth shut with a snap. The firm’s honor had been suitably defended, but it wasn’t worth incurring the ire of the FBI.
The agents all donned latex gloves and began a methodical search of the office, looking over each document and boxing those that interested them. A technical specialist sat at the desk and typed in the password that the key logger they’d installed when bugging the office had captured, and began scanning the files, working methodically and calmly.
The attorney showed up half an hour later, his cheeks flushed and his regal mane of silver hair windblown. Doug met him at the door, and he strode to the counter and looked over the warrant, his eyes taking in every line with the precision of a machine. When he was done, he set it back on the counter and scowled before walking back to Richard’s office.
“We’ll need a full itemized inventory of everything you remove from the office,” he said to the agent. “And the names and rank of everyone involved.”
The agent nodded, as though he’d been expecting the request. “You’ll get it when we’re done. Have you spoken with Richard today?”
“No.”
“Any idea where he is?”
“No.”
It was the agent’s turn to scowl. “All right. Are we done here, or do you have anything to add?”
“I’ll be lodging a formal complaint with your superiors for this gross disruption and invasion of privacy.”
“I would expect nothing less. Do you bill five hundred an hour, or is it more than that, to come down here and do this?”
“I’ll also be sure to highlight your insulting tone,” the attorney said.
“Make sure you get that I guessed it was more.”
The attorney’s face colored, but he didn’t reply, instead spinning on his heel and stalking back to the lobby, where Doug was waiting. They had a whispered discussion, and then the attorney shook his hand and left, there being nothing he could do, faced with a legitimate warrant and a team that was handling the search by the book.
Doug stood by, doing his best to calm the associates, the other junior partner thankfully out in the field. The team finished after three hours and left little in Richard’s office, hauling away most of the paperwork and ultimately confiscating the computer. The agent produced an itemized list, signed it, and handed Doug a copy with an expression that could have been carved from stone.
The FBI departed, leaving the staff shell-shocked and wondering in hushed voices what the boss could have possibly done to provoke the state to the point where it descended upon him with all of its power. Unspoken was the fear that they all might be tainted by some wrongdoing of their leader, and their careers in venture capital finished before they’d really had a chance to begin. Not much later Doug called the staff together and told everyone to take the rest of the day off. The tension in the atmosphere was thick as everyone filed out and Doug locked the suite door, the expression on his face telegraphing that he was wondering whether there would be a fund to come back to after the weekend.
Chapter 27
Leah shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the Friday morning editorial meeting with Monte, dreading when he would ask her for a progress report on the stories he’d given her to explore. She’d spent most of the evening scrambling to play catch-up, but it would be obvious to him that she hadn’t put in a full week on them, and he would be justified in asking what she’d been doing instead.
Adam wasn’t in the meeting since he wasn’t part of the editorial staff, for which Leah was thankful – she could stretch the truth a little if pressed and he wouldn’t be there to contradict her, even though she was confident he wouldn’t. She hated lying and didn’t want him to see her as dishonest, even if she had to be on occasion for self-preservation.
Karen Ritter, one of the other journalists Simon Garr had recruited, finished her description of her story pro
gress.
Monte turned to Leah. “How are you doing with the stuff you were working?”
Leah gave a long presentation that amounted to not much had happened and that she didn’t see much point in pursuing them given how little meat there was on the bone. Much to Leah’s surprise, Monte seemed to accept her summary and moved on to the next person without probing further.
At the end of the staff meeting everyone was rising when Monte, seemingly as an afterthought, asked Leah to stay for a moment. Her heart sank at his neutral tone, and she knew she’d been busted before he said another word.
The rest of the staff filed out, leaving them alone in the conference room. Monte stood and shut the door, and returned to his seat and regarded Leah.
“Leah, do you like working here?” he asked softly, and her stomach did a flip.
“Of course. It’s great.”
“Then would you mind telling me why you gave me a five-minute load of BS instead of a legitimate story update?”
Leah sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but I’ve been working an angle on a different story that I think has legs.”
“Yeah? Now would be the time to tell me what it is, since I’m responsible for your time.”
Leah thought for a moment. “There’s a shady venture capitalist in the Valley who looks mob connected. I’m researching his investors and holdings. There are a lot of things that don’t add up, and I believe there’s more to it. Maybe money laundering, maybe fraud…”
“And what gives you that idea?” Monte asked.
Leah told him about Richard’s candy store adventure and the DA’s impressions. She finished with her treatment at Terra Megatrends. Monte’s eyebrows rose as she ended her account.
“But where’s the substance?” he asked. “Or to be clearer, what’s the actual story? Are you saying the portfolio companies might be scams, or that he’s running mob money, or what? I’m missing the hook – the why anyone would care part.”
A Girl Betrayed (A Leah Mason suspense thriller Book 2) Page 14