Taking Stock

by C J West

  Brad purchased his ticket and climbed aboard the bus, choosing a window seat halfway back. A motley crowd filled the seats around him. A young couple, newlyweds judging by the shine of their rings and their faces, sat across the aisle. Teenage children in the seats ahead, chatted continuously with their parents in high-speed French that Brad couldn’t understand. Several older couples shuffled on board and finally Brad found what he was looking for. A young man, neatly dressed in blue jeans and a royal blue dress shirt, limped down the aisle looking dejected for an American on vacation. Brad nodded to the seat beside him and the man sat down. He would be Brad’s best friend until two minutes after they were through security.

  Brad raised his hand as the young guy sat. “Hi, I’m Brad Perry.”

  “I’m Charlie, Charlie Marston.”

  “What are you doing out here by yourself? It’s no bustling tourist stop.”

  “My father just bought a share in a local vineyard. We’re out here getting to know our new partners.”

  “You moving here for good?”

  “No, we have a winery back home. That’s where I’ll end up. My dad likes to tinker with small vineyards. He drags us along for company.”

  “Sounds interesting. Not your run-of-the-mill job.”

  “Winemaking’s more like a mill than you think.”

  The bus wound its way out onto the main road and steamed along. “Which vineyard?”

  Charlie pointed to a side road that led past Brad’s rundown house. “It’s about fifteen miles up on the mountain side.”

  “The one with the huge stone barn with a spruce tree on one side?”

  “It’s a hemlock. Pretty far off the beaten path for an American. You have a vacation place here or something?”

  “I bought an old place a few years back.”

  “Cool. Maybe we can meet for a drink.”

  “When I said old, I mean really old. Not a place you’d want to visit. It was an old vegetable farm that went bust, a shack really. I’m going to knock it down eventually. I just haven’t gotten up the energy yet.”

  “Let me know. Might be fun. I could use an excuse to get away from the vineyard for a few days.”

  Charlie’s soft hands, neat hair and clean shaven face looked more at home in an office than a construction site. “You don’t look like the type for demolition work.”

  “I don’t mind real work. I’d do it just for the change of scenery. Trust me. I’ve had winemaking rammed down my throat since I was ten. Anything different would be a pleasure.”

  Charlie and Brad talked all the way to Geneva. Charlie invited any reprieve from the tedium of his father’s business and Brad promised to visit the vineyard and sample some of last year’s wines. When the passports were checked and the men walked off the bus, Brad’s mind returned to business. He’d never see the young American again.

  Brad walked into a café, chose a window seat, and watched every face that passed. The café was nearly empty and the people on the street moved about with no apparent interest in him. It seemed the goons from the day before hadn’t followed him here.

  When the appointed time came, he paid his check, crossed the street and walked into a huge marble lobby. The richness of this place was a striking contrast to the farmer’s bank. Brad imagined the ill-gotten wealth of several dictators stored somewhere beneath the marble floors.

  A man in a dark suit walked briskly to Brad and guided him across the lobby and into a small room. A serious-looking guard locked them inside. The transactions were completed in minutes and Brad relaxed for the first time in two days. He left the room with nothing to do but idle around until the return bus trip. The forty-five million in this bank was more than he could imagine spending, never mind the twenty in cash stuffed in the walls of his dilapidated place in France. Once he was free of Herman and Erica, life would be grand.

  He browsed the shops and imagined the things he’d do to keep himself entertained for the next twenty-five years.

  Chapter Forty-four

  Sarah arrived at the restaurant at quarter to seven, sat on the couch and watched dozens of guests make their way into and out of Avenue One for breakfast. She’d waited over a week for this meeting and she was anxious to get started even at this early hour. Her typed questions lay in the folder on her lap, ready for the biggest meeting of her career. Herman’s call had set it up. He’d gotten Brad to meet her here where she’d have his full attention. She’d make progress on her investigation today, the first steps forward since Erica Fletcher stalled it weeks ago.

  Brad strode in from Avenue de Lafayette looking pale and tired for someone just back from vacation. He flagged down a hostess who led them to an isolated table. Brad sat with his back to a solid divider.

  The waitress whisked in, filled their coffee cups and rushed off.

  Brad didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “What’s this about?”

  “I wanted to talk about mutual fund transactions and security.”

  “No, no, no. I didn’t come here to chit chat about IT. Herman asked me here because something’s wrong. I want to know what it is.”

  “We’re concerned about some mutual fund transactions that may have been altered.”

  He leaned in sternly “Let’s skip the hypotheticals. Tell me what you’ve found and I’ll try to help. I’m not going to play guessing games this early.”

  Sarah’s face reddened. She’d heard about Brad’s Neanderthal behavior and came in expecting to outmaneuver him. Thirty seconds into the meeting she was cornered. She shouldn’t tell him what she suspected, but if she didn’t, she might as well get up and walk out.

  “I told you. We’re worried about mutual fund transactions. We think someone’s making unauthorized changes. I need to know how.”

  The statement deflated Brad’s cocky attitude a bit. He crossed his arms and stared. It had to be a blow. It was his job to prevent this sort of breach and the accusation couldn’t be welcome. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t respond.

  “If I told you I knew someone was getting in, what would you do?” Sarah asked. “Where would you start?”

  He took off into a detailed discussion of the measures they’d taken to prevent data theft. His ego was stinging for sure. She listened politely as he bemoaned the access every young CSR had down on the nineteenth floor. No one could get in from the outside according to him. The SQL and web servers were locked down and audited by an outside security firm every six months. They’d never had a blip on those reports. He had no doubt the breach was coming from inside. He boiled it down to two possibilities: someone from nineteen making changes through the system or someone getting into the computer room and going around the system. He believed the problem was on nineteen.

  “I’m not looking for some kid down in client services.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s bigger than that. Someone’s making changes, but leaving no trace in the system.”

  Brad looked perplexed. “How do you know they’re making changes if there’s no evidence?”

  “Customer complaints.”

  He asked how many and when she admitted it was a single complaint he turned away in disgust. When he turned back, he growled through his teeth keeping his voice low enough so no one else could hear. “You didn’t bring me here for one complaint.”

  Herman had thought the evidence compelling. She should have expected Brad’s reluctance, but she was blinded by dreams of a huge raise and promotion for her discovery. She’d assumed his cooperation and now she’d have to earn it. She sat back, sobered, glad to see the waitress appear to take their orders.

  Brad feigned a pleasant attitude for the waitress giving Sarah a brief reprieve to collect her thoughts. She’d expected a defensive, apologetic man who felt guilty about failing his brother’s company. There was nothing apologetic about Brad.

  As soon as the waitress walked away he piped up, “Ok, enough dancing around. It’s time you tell me what you’ve got.”

&
nbsp; Her power in this conversation had evaporated. She wished she’d brought Herman along. She felt exposed, forced to tell more than she should. Brad was responsible for IT and the CEO’s brother-in-law. Telling him should have been as natural as telling Herman, but something was holding her back. She didn’t like it, but she was out of options.

  “Someone is altering trades, but it’s not someone downstairs. I think it’s someone in IT.”

  Brad locked eyes with her. “Ok. Let me say this really slow so you can understand. You think someone’s changing data. I get that. What are they doing with it?”

  “I think you got it right when you said someone was bypassing the system and going straight to the database. There’s no audit trail, but records have definitely been changed.”

  He slammed his hands on the table.

  Startled, Sarah jumped an inch off her chair.

  He deliberately annunciated every syllable. “Changed how?”

  She’d never been frightened of a co-worker before, but she believed Brad might just jump over the table and attack her. She forced a deep breath.

  He must have seen how scared she was because he pushed back from the table and forced a calm voice. “What do these changes look like?”

  Sarah told him about the Johnsons’ account problem. He took a copy of the statement and circled the transaction on the 29th. He seemed annoyed at being asked to research a single customer complaint. If he wasn’t a senior vice president she would have guessed he was a bit unstable.

  She worried that he wouldn’t take the problem seriously, but didn’t dare press him any further. He ruled out an Internet hack. He told her that the database could only be accessed directly from the computer room. No one in their right mind would sit in front of all those windows and steal from customer accounts. He was stuck on the idea that someone downstairs was responsible. Sarah was convinced he was wrong and told him so.

  “Do you have any idea how complex this system is?” he mocked. “Tricking a system this complicated would take years of work. The chances of getting it exactly right are miniscule. Think about the money we spend on security, auditing, and all the work they do downstairs to prove the numbers. We have enough problems trying to process transactions honestly. If someone was messing with the data it would show up all over the reports.”

  She pointed to the statement in his hands. “We can’t let this go. Can’t you at least find out who accessed the database on the twenty-ninth?”

  “Dozens of people access the databases. I can’t question everyone.”

  “The Johnsons’ transaction was pushed after the three o’clock deadline. It would have to have been done after three forty-five on the twenty-eighth and probably before close of business on the twenty-ninth. Doesn’t it make sense to start there?”

  He wasn’t thrilled, but he agreed and halfheartedly stuck the account statement in his planner. She finished her toast and watched Brad sip his coffee until the waitress came with the check. Brad handed the waitress his credit card and watched her go.

  “I need to ask you one more thing,” she said.

  He nodded sternly, his agreement to cooperate still fragile. She almost couldn’t get the words out and she hoped what she was about to ask wouldn’t send him into a tirade.

  “A few weeks ago Gregg Turner came to you with a problem.”

  Brad grinned immediately.

  “He says you threw his documents in the shredder.”

  Brad said nothing as the waitress delivered the bill and disappeared.

  He signed the slip and folded it into the leather holder.

  “I’m sure Gregg’s making it out worse than it was. He’s been here long enough to know we have a system for handling problems. He’s supposed to log a ticket upstairs, but he thinks just because I’m on nineteen, he can interrupt whatever I’m doing. I was in a bad mood and I let him have it.”

  “So you put him in his place.”

  “Something like that. Not my most shining moment, but Gregg knows better. I’m surprised he mentioned it.”

  Sarah followed Brad out into the street, but as soon as he hit the sidewalk, he turned toward the financial district and picked up his pace. He didn’t want to be seen with her. It was best, though she would have felt better if he’d said something before hurrying off.

  He was going to start digging. He was responsible for those systems. If someone was defrauding the company he’d be standing next to Stan and Herman when the heat came down. Brad wouldn’t lose his job, but he’d get his wings clipped for sure. With that much incentive, he was bound to deliver better results than Erica had.

  Satisfied with her morning’s progress, Sarah let Brad get two full blocks ahead before following. She detoured down Summer Street and then along Washington, browsing in the windows as she went, thinking about the day Brad would deliver her proof. Marty would congratulate her then. After a few short months she’d break the biggest scam in BFS history.

  Sarah was about to make it big time.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Stan clicked on the cartoon Darth Vader to begin a round of movie trivia. Before Sarah arrived on the scene Stan had played contests on several websites each day in addition to his chats with Sean. He never worried about the company tracking the sites he visited. He lobbied to be in charge of Internet traffic monitoring a year earlier, but the company decided it was an invasion of privacy. Stan was smart enough to stay away from anything that could get him in real trouble. The movie sites were a huge time waster, but they were harmless. Strange, he felt guilty for playing even though he hadn’t played once the previous week.

  He aced the first five Star Wars questions, easy stuff, characters, vehicles, planets. Question six was tougher. It asked him to organize a list of four characters in the order they appeared in episode two. Stan stared at the names, struggling to remember scenes he saw years earlier.

  Movement at the door caught his attention.

  He instinctively minimized his browser window.

  Erica Fletcher breezed into his office, closed the door behind her, and stopped two feet into the room.

  “A lot of my dreams start like this,” Stan said.

  “All G-rated I hope.”

  “Mostly. How about yours?”

  “Sorry. None of my dreams take place in your office.”

  “Bummer.” Hotties like Erica had dreams, but Stan would never be privy to them. An occasional visit would have to suffice. “What’s got you sneaking into my office and driving me mad?”

  She chose a chair directly across the desk. “I’ve got a problem.”

  In his years at BFS few people sought his help. His work ethic wasn’t a secret among the veterans and the mystique of internal audit warded off the junior staffers. Things had changed in the last few weeks. Sarah’s tactics made people nervous and they came to Stan for reassurance with questions like, ‘Does she really think I’m a crook’ and ‘Do I have to answer a question like that?’ He assumed Erica could fend for herself.

  “Does this have something to do with Sarah?”

  Erica looked confused. “Not exactly.”

  “Let me take this in.” Stan dramatically pressed his hands to his chest. “You’re coming to me for help. I should bake you a pie for a proper welcome. I don’t think you’ve ever…” The annoyed look said she wanted to get to the point. He apologized and asked what was on her mind.

  She leaned in and began in a whisper even though the door was closed. “I have a situation. I think it’s serious and I’m not sure where to go.” She went on to describe her meeting with Gregg and Sarah and the problem with the Johnson account and the disappearing notes.

  He asked why she didn’t go back to Sarah curious whether it was her string-‘em-up mentality or her interest in Gregg that drove them apart.

  “She sees me as the enemy.”

  Stan knew why.

  Sarah was on to something big. If Erica was working the same problem from a different angle, she was Stan’s way in
on the bust; his opportunity to salvage his reputation before Sarah destroyed it in her first month on the job. Stan put himself at her service.

  “Someone’s doctoring files.”

  Stan gasped a lung full of excitement and one full of embarrassment. If this was truly a theft, he’d let it go undetected for years. “Can you prove it?”

  She told him about the customer’s proof and how when she was getting close to an answer, her notes had disappeared from her office a second time. The money in this one case wasn’t huge, but when she told him about Brad putting the documents in the shredder he knew she was on to something. He’d heard about the shredding fiasco, but assumed it was Brad showing off for a girl. He never imagined Brad Foster would get caught up in something like this. He had everything to lose, but who better to grab files from Erica’s office?

  Stan couldn’t believe his luck. “You think Brad’s involved?”

  Her grim nod said she believed it, but wasn’t ready to get her hopes up.

  “How cool would that be? Busting the biggest ass in this place. The boss’ brother for God’s sake. Where do we start?”

  “From the beginning. All my research is gone. I could work through it again, but that would take days. I was hoping we could start from the other end. Figure out who’s on systems they shouldn’t be,” she said.

  “If it’s Brad, he can get in any system any time he wants.”

  “It could be anyone up there.”

  Stan reminded her about the shredder incident, strange behavior even for Brad. He could easily sneak into her office and if he got caught, he could say he was checking on her work. She told Stan how often Brad was in the office late. He didn’t write code anymore and he didn’t directly manage projects, so what was he doing? They agreed managing thirty-seven people couldn’t keep him that busy. Brad wouldn’t be their only suspect, but he was top on the list.