by HN Wake
She was starting to feel conspicuous, a silent statute in a teeming crowd.
Stuart was glad handing and cracking jokes as he processed through the tables. He caught Nazir’s wave and approached their table. He draped his hand over Hiew’s shoulders, and told a joke. Everyone laughed.
She had to move soon. Her moment of opportunity would be missed if Stuart made it to the center table where her approach would be too visible, too obvious. But she couldn’t let Mudzaffar see her.
She stepped out of the shadows. Stuart noticed her and waved her over. He leaned down to Nazir’s ear and said something. He wanted to introduce her to Nazir and Hiew now that she was supportive of the deal.
She froze. In her mind, she beseeched him, no, please no. Don’t let them see me.
Nazir looked up, followed Stuart’s gaze.
Mac’s breath caught.
Stuart smiled and motioned her over. Hiew began to turn toward her.
Her heart leapt. She shook off Stuart.
He gave her a quizzical, alarmed look.
She nodded toward the back door, indicating for him to instead follow her into the anteroom.
Stuart stood, gave her another curious look that asked ‘what do you want?’ Hiew was looking at her, examining her face. Next to him Mudzaffar was starting to turn.
She nodded again to Stuart to follow her into the anteroom.
Nazir pushed back his chair.
Mac’s heartbeat spiked. She pushed off from her position and strode toward the open doors. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Stuart placing his hand on Nazir’s shoulder and excusing himself. He was following her out.
A scarlet gown flashed to her left as she made her way through the tables. Heath Busby looked up and watched her pass.
Something felt wrong. Her gut tightened.
She led Stuart out into the anteroom.
She dismissed the doubt. It was too late: the game was already in play.
48
Langley, VA
It had taken him a day, but Isaac had found what he was looking for. He had run searches on all the internal documents stored in electronic format within the Agency. It should have been easier, but the Agency had a number of databases that required certain levels of administrative access.
He had searched for a specific string of keywords. The first was Odom. He was lucky that it was an unusual name. The second string of words was Malay Petro Reliance.
The search had returned one result.
His heart jumped like a fish flipping out of a silent lake. He imagined the fish dropping back in and disappearing under the murky water.
Don’t worry, he told himself. Nobody will catch me. I’m IT.
He opened up the search results. It was a dead end, a dud. The search had spit out an internal cable that listed Odom as the approval for a trip report on a Malaysian Petrochemical Conference in Dubai from two years back. The search had picked up the “Malay” and the “Petro.”
Isaac stared at the result and realized that the search could have just as easily picked up anything that had Odom and Malaysia in the cable. Now, that was an interesting deduction: the lack of results meant Frank Odom had next to no association with Agency work in Malaysia. So, why was he freaking out about Malay Petro Chemical?
Isaac sat up and cracked his fingers loudly.
What had he learned yesterday morning through the haze of his hang over? He switched back over to the search results from the day before. He had forgotten that he had used a quick hack into the Bank of Dallas to identify that the two million dollar deposit had come from Legion Bank in Hong Kong. He stared at that result for a long moment.
He typed in two new keywords: Odom and Legion. He knew from experience, the search would take a while so he pulled out his phone and dialed Joyce.
“Hi,” she said. “Thanks for the movie last night. That was great.”
He grinned. They had gone to a sci fi movie and had dinner after. He had stayed the night for a second time. “It was all great.”
She laughed softly.
His computer pinged. “Hold on a sec,” he said.
The search had found only one document.
He clicked it open.
The fish in the lake flipped out again. It was a large fish. As it dropped back into the opaque water, its splash was huge.
“We need to meet,” he said into his cellphone.
49
Hong Kong
The doors to the ballroom closed softly behind them, dampening the blues music.
Stuart turned on her, “This had better be good.”
“We’ve got a problem,” she said as she lead him to the windows. “On Alghaba. This morning, I put out some quiet feelers. This just came in.” She held up sheets of paper. “You need to see this. All of it.”
The papers felt heavy in her hands—like a magic key to the kingdom. The plan rested on Stuart believing these papers. She handed him a folded, two-page document.
He unfolded it and his eyes widened at the huge, bold title. “PRESS RELEASE. Legion Bank Financing Land Grabs: How International Finance Funds Illegal Deforestation.”
She explained, “Apparently, they’ve been investigating the timber sector out of Malaysia. I don’t know how they found out about Alghaba, but they know about it. We’re named in the second paragraph.”
He skimmed the document, his eyes slowing on the second paragraph.
She knew what it said. She and Johnson had crafted the sentences and had dictated it to the Worldwide Green DC office who had in turn put together the fake release. She willed Stuart to believe its authenticity.
He read it in a hiss, “It has come to our attention that the international banks have strong business interests in both the country of Malaysia and their top timber tycoons. In fact, Legion Bank is currently setting up a deal in which it will provide funds to help Alghaba—one of the worst deforesters in the world—with their expansion.” He looked up in shock. “How do they know about our relationship to Alghaba?”
“Nazir Ramli isn’t exactly shy,” she said. “I’m sure he’s taken them out to lunch in KL, been to social events. Alghaba’s CEO is here with him tonight.”
Stuart contemplated the papers then waggled them as if they were dirty. His lips were curled in contempt. “Listen, Mac. I’m not afraid of some tree huggers.”
“You should be.”
Her impertinence startled him. “Excuse me?”
The chandelier glimmered. A single rain drop hit the window. She felt strong and in control--the game was in play. “They have gotten quite sophisticated in the last few years.”
“Mac, one press release isn’t--”
“They’ve figured out our weak points.” She handed him a second document. This one was twenty pages long. “My mole sent me this. It’s a copy.”
The cover was a barren landscape with tree stumps stretching for miles. The title screamed, “Legion Bank and Illegal Deforestation: Earning Millions to Speed Up Climate Change.”
Stuart squinted in anger, read the title.
She held up her bank Blackberry. It had a photograph of the brochure’s cover in vibrant, glossy color. “This is the real version. My contact took this snap off the Worldwide Green’s President’s desk yesterday. They’ve already run the print run.” She flipped the pages in his hands and pointed to a highlighted section. “You need to check out page five.”
He read out loud, his voice heavy with disgust. “Legion Bank is in discussions with Malaysia’s worst culprit. Legion is planning to finance Alghaba’s expansion in Sarawak. The bank looks to make fifty million dollars on the one deal alone.” He looked up and spit out, “Fucking Meredith.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Why?”
She indicated the press release. “This release claims they’ve been conducting this investigation for months.”
He walked over to the window and stared into the dark, stormy night. “We can weather this. It’s just a t
ree hugger’s report.”
“It’s going out widely.”
He scowled with defiance. “To where?”
“Out to their network.”
“Their network.” His sarcastic chuckle was forced. “A bunch of hippies?”
“Their network has over fifteen thousand active members in New York City alone. Many of them wealthy investors.” She stepped next to him. “There’s more.”
She handed him a copy of a blank petition with the title: Legion Bank is ripping down the rainforest. BOYCOTT Legion Bank. Below the title were instructions. Show Legion Bank we protest their financing of the timber company, Alghaba, in Malaysia. “It’s going around online. I looked about an hour ago. So far, they have thirty-three thousand signed up.”
“What?”
“When they reach two hundred thousand—which they will—they are going to send it to our—Legion Bank’s--shareholders.”
Stuart glowered out over the harbor, a Master of the Universe surveying his domain. His shoulders were taut, his back stiff as his mind chewed the situation.
She knew he had his eyes on the prize, of one day being head of the whole bank. She knew that a scandal would tarnish his reputation and diminish his chances.
Please, let him believe these documents. She stepped in closer. “There’s more.”
“Jesus Christ.” He glared at her.
She held up her blackberry with a fuzzy, color photograph of a mock up New York Times ad. “They are taking out a full page New York Times ad and”—she flipped to second photo—“an ad in the electronic edition on the Economist homepage.”
He winced. “When?”
She flipped to another photo of a pinkish newspaper. “And the Financial Times. Second page. These are all scheduled for tomorrow.”
“The Financial Times? Jesus, it’s a fucking onslaught.” He clenched his fists and his chin jutted toward her.
Her heart lightened. The newspaper ads had been Johnson’s inspiration. They hadn’t been sure they were convincing.
“Stuart, there’s one more thing you need to know.” She moved in close, conspiratorially, and whispered in a concerned tone. “They are coming here tonight. At the close of the event. At midnight.”
His eyes widened. Was that a hint of fear? “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Yes, he finally looked afraid. His strategy to be Legion Bank’s global CEO was being threatened. A demonstration outside a black tie event at the Four Seasons Hong Kong would be worldwide news. It would be a scandal laid down at Stuart Fairbank’s doorstep.
“They know Alghaba is here.” She tightened her voice, weighted it with emotion. “Stuart, it’s a PR coup. Legion and Alghaba at a gala at a fancy hotel in Hong Kong. They are bringing a palm tree. A full-sized palm tree. They are going to raise it at the hotel’s entrance. They said they a have about a thousand protestors lined up. Bullhorns. Posters. And a Penan chief in his loincloth.”
“Jesus Christ.” He turned back to the window.
She stepped away from him. Her salvo was finished.
The silence stretched for an eternity.
His face was set in determination when he finally turned to her. He asked, “Do you have a phone number? Do you have a way to get in touch with them?”
She nodded.
“Call them. Tell them the Alghaba deal is off.”
Her shoulders released as she thought of the Penan village. She thought of the orangutan. Her heart soared. She thought of the gash. She had done it, she had stopped the carnage. In her mind, the red pooled blood on white tile inched backwards, slightly.
To Stuart, she nodded.
He pointed his finger at her chest. “I want all of this to go away. Understood?”
Her mind buzzed with success. She breathed in deeply. “Yes,” she replied.
“I don’t want a single word breathed of this entire episode. No one can know we caved to their pressure. Make that part of the deal. They must agree to a complete information embargo.”
Her skin tingled. She felt weightless. They had won.
She said, “Understood.”
“Do it now.” He jabbed his finger through the air at her again. “The Alghaba deal is off.” He stomped toward the ballroom doors.
50
Hong Kong
An hour later, her phone vibrated. She smiled to herself as she pulled up the message under the tablecloth.
“Worldwide Green can’t believe we did it!!” Johnson had written. “I’m ELATED! We pulled this off! You’re a freaking hero!! Drinks on me.”
She typed back, “I just need to finish up here. Give me an hour.”
She looked up at her table guests. They were smiling and sipping the last of their port. The meal was coming to an end. The speeches had been given and the toasts had been raised.
At her table, the three women and seven men were all in evening wear that, if examined closely, was noticeably less expensive than the others in the ballroom. Their demeanor was also more subdued, timid. This was the nonprofit partners table. This was the table the bank put together to show their civic citizenship.
During his introduction, Stuart had pointed to the table and thanked the bank’s community partners for being part of this special evening.
Next to Mac, an older Asian man— the executive director of a small non profit that worked on reducing the levels of chemicals used in factories in China—commented, “This is quite an event.”
“Yes, they have outdone themselves,” Mac said.
“Have they?” His voice was somber.
“Excuse me?” she asked, surprised.
“I would suspect this is normal for bankers. This extravagance. This expense. It must be rewarding for them to inhabit such venues.”
She gave him a small smile. “I believe you have summed it up perfectly. Bankers live well.”
“So much wealth on display.” There was a sadness in his eyes. He asked her softly, “Do you like it?”
“What’s that?”
“Your job at the bank. Do you like it?”
She nodded, “It’s interesting.”
“Is it difficult?”
“It’s fine.” The lies came easily. She was acting from a script whose ending was already written. “The bank is committed to environmental and social issues which makes my job easier. They have well-defined policies about what the bank can and cannot do.”
“I’m sure, I’m sure.” His tone was placating.
“And you? Do you like your work?” She changed the subject.
“Of course, of course. It is my life. It is my obsession, you could say. But I will admit it is difficult. When we hear of corporations doing the wrong thing for the environment, it wears you down. You have to keep your energy up. That is not always easy.”
“Have you had success this year?”
“Oh yes. And we’ve had disappointments. But I must keep my energy, I must hold onto optimism.”
“What is your secret?”
He thought about this. “My family, my friends, my colleagues. All good people. All supportive. I choose my companions carefully. I choose who I spend time with.”
He drifted into a conversation with the guest on his other side.
Mac’s gaze lingered on the candles, the flowers, and the crystal glasses. She thought of Josh Halloway and his narcissism. She remembered him lecturing her on siphoning off Agency funds. She wondered how he could have befriended Dominick, knowing Alghaba had a hit out on him. How could he have seen the gash, and still gone through with the murder? She imagined him grinning as the $2 million hit his bank account.
This is who I chose to spend time with, she thought. Corrupted sociopaths.
Johnson was waiting at the bar when she arrived. He stood quickly off the bar stool, reached out, and pulled her in for a hug. “I can’t believe you did it!”
She stiffened, awkwardly patted him on the back.
He ordered her a champagne. He was beaming. “Tell me, tell me every
thing!”
“It worked like a charm.” She grinned at him.
“Did he believe it all?” His face was incredulous.
“Everything.”
He gave a low whoop. “I can’t believe it. And the newspaper ads?”
“They were the coup de grace,” she admitted with a smile. “He called it an onslaught.”
He crowed, “I can’t believe we did it! I cannot believe that just happened. I cannot believe that just worked!”
“Yeah, unreal is right.”
“How did he react?”
“Pissed at first, then he went into smart mode--weighing the options. He makes decisions quickly. I think that’s part of his success.”
Johnson breathed out. “I cannot believe that just worked. Did you tell him we had protesters?”
“Totally.”
“He bought it?”
“Completely.” She grinned.
They toasted their success and sipped the champagne.
She placed a hand on his arm. “Johnson, there is one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Worldwide Green can’t talk about this at all. A full embargo. In fact, it’s better if you tell all your people to shut down any discussion about anything we did in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Absolutely. Consider it done. Mac, you saved the Penan village. The orangutan. You saved them.”
After the adrenaline began to subside and they’d had time to decompress, the conversation turned more serious. She said, “Johnson, this was just a momentary win. We held Legion back, but there are other banks. Worldwide Green needs to be ready for the other banks.”
“Funny you bring that up. I’ve been on the phone with DC and London. We are thinking the same thing. This model—let’s call it the onslaught model—worked. We’re going to employ it again. Over and over.” He glanced at her. “Maybe you can give us an early heads up—insider knowledge—from the industry on these kinds of terrible deals. Maybe we can cultivate more like you that are inside the other banks.”