“What are you up to this weekend?” Connie asked. It was the Thursday before the long Fourth of July weekend. The Fourth was on a Monday this year.
“I’m going up to Brainerd,” Marc said referring to a popular resort area a couple of hours north of the Twin Cities, “with Margaret. There are several other couples, mostly friends of hers from the Hennepin County bench that will be there, too.”
“Oh, oh,” Connie said. “The long weekend relationship killer. You know these other people?”
“Most of them, yeah.”
“You worried?”
“About what?” Marc asked.
“Things between you and Margaret.”
“You know, I miss her when she’s gone, but…” Marc said, letting the word ‘but’ hang in the air.
“But you haven’t completely let go of Mackenzie,” Connie said.
“Maybe,” Marc somewhat agreed. “I’m mostly just getting very comfortable being single. There’s something to be said about not having anyone to answer to all the time.”
The intercom on Marc’s phone buzzed and when he answered it, Sandy told him his ex-wife was calling. Marc thanked her, told Connie, who quietly slipped out and closed his office door. As she left Marc answered the call.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi, I was wondering what you are up to this weekend?” she asked.
“I have plans, Karen. Why? What’s up?” Marc asked.
“Oh, nothing. We’re having a little party Sunday. No big deal just a backyard barbeque kind of thing. I thought maybe, if you didn’t have plans, you could come.”
“Thanks, but I have plans, sorry,” Marc politely replied.
“Okay, no problem. Maybe we could get together for lunch sometime,” she said.
“Ah, sure, we’ll see. Listen, I have to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Sure, bye. Oh, and Marc, have a nice weekend.”
“Yeah, you too.”
He hung up the phone and with a puzzled expression stared at it for almost thirty seconds.
“What the hell was that all about?” he whispered to himself. There was a soft knock on his door and before he could respond, Connie re-entered his office. She closed the door and sat down again in the same chair.
“How are you two getting along?” Connie asked.
Marc, still thinking about the phone call, stared at her without saying anything.
Connie passed her hand before his face and said, “Hey, are you here?”
“Oh, ah, yeah, sorry. We get along fine. That was a weird call, though. She invited me over on Sunday. They’re having a picnic kind of thing.”
“Why is that weird?”
“In all the years we were married, I don’t remember her inviting me to anything.”
“Maybe she’s just being nice.”
“Karen? No, she wants something. It will be interesting to find out what,” Marc said.
Charlie Dudek took the elevator in the LaSalle Building up to the twentieth floor. He had been in the Twin Cities for a couple of days and was doing part of his pre-mission planning and scouting, running the risk of being seen, recognized and later identified. However minimal that risk was he had gone to the trouble of putting on a simple disguise. A mustache, glasses, a little nose putty and a black baseball cap without a logo. A logo on a hat could be something someone might notice and remember.
The target’s place of work was not very likely to be the best venue for the job. On the other hand, Charlie was nothing if not thorough and professional. He could never be sure until he checked for himself. Besides, he still had several days to wait before completing the assignment.
When Charlie entered the elevator car on the ground floor, a half-dozen people joined him. When he got off on twenty, he was relieved to be alone. The sign on the wall pointed him in the right direction toward Suite 2010. Instead of going into the office right away, Charlie walked past and wandered around the entire floor as if looking for something. When he got back to CAR Securities, he opened the heavy glass door and walked right in.
“May I help you?” the receptionist smiled and asked him.
“Um, yeah, I hope so,” Charlie replied acting a little uncertain. “I was looking for a law office,” he continued giving her the name of a firm on twenty-one he had seen on the building’s directory.
“I believe they’re on twenty-one,” the young woman politely said.
“Oh, I thought it was twenty,” Charlie replied. He very deliberately looked around the open office space behind the receptionist’s desk. “Nice place,” he said. “What do you guys do here?” he asked.
“We’re an investment firm,” she answered.
Charlie looked around again in time to see Rob Judd walking by with a stack of papers in his hand. Charlie casually watched him but gave the impression he was not watching him at all.
“Well, if I ever get any money, maybe I’ll come see you,” Charlie told her as Rob passed from his view. “Well thanks,” he smiled, backed up and walked out; mission accomplished.
While Charlie was waiting for the elevator to take him up to twenty-one, he thought about what he had seen. Not a very good place for it and the guy was too young for a drug-induced heart attack, he thought. No, the place you saw is still the best spot, he continued thinking as he got on the elevator.
In case someone was watching him, Charlie rode up to twenty-one. Once there, he would take the stairs down and back to his car.
Rob had been waiting all morning for an opportunity to see his boss, Walter Pascal. He had seen him come in with Corbin and Jordan Kemp, probably from across the hall, a few minutes ago. Rob waited long enough for Walter to get in his office then picked up the documents he wanted to show him and headed across the floor to see him. As he passed behind the receptionist’s desk, he paid no attention to the man in the black baseball cap who was talking to her.
Rob knocked on Walter’s door, waited one second and then turned the knob as he heard Walter tell him to come in.
“Got a minute?” Rob asked.
“Sure, Rob,” Walter said. “What’s up?”
Rob sat down and set the paperwork on Walter’s desk. “You remember I told you about the rising default rate on our mortgage-backed securities?”
“Sure. It was almost five percent. A little high but not really cause for concern you said.”
“Right. Well, I think there may be cause for concern. I went through all of them over the last few evenings and it is now over six percent.”
“You went through all of what?” Walter asked a little puzzled.
“All of our mortgage-backed securities…”
“All three hundred and forty million dollars worth? That must have been quite a task,” Walter said.
“Yeah, I guess. Well, whatever,” Rob said brushing off the comment. “Anyway, I know these are coming through you but maybe we should think about getting our customers and the firm out of these. Plus, you and the principals need to be aware of this. If ours are indicative of the market, there could be another real estate crash like in ’07 and ’08. If the default goes to eight or nine percent, it will happen. The interest payments on these are already barely covering the defaults.”
“I know. I can see that for myself,” Walter said while he reviewed Rob’s spreadsheet. “Tell you what, leave these documents, I’ll look them over and meet with Corbin and the others.”
Slightly taken aback at Pascal’s almost casual attitude about the coming crash, Rob simply agreed and quietly left.
Maddy silently worked on her shrimp and chicken salad while waiting to see if Rob was going to come back to Earth. He was seated opposite her, but once again seemed a thousand miles away. Maddy put her fork down, dabbed the napkin to her lips and picked up her wine glass. She sipped her wine and shifted her eyes between Rob and a man seated alone across the room. She believed the man had glanced over at them several times. Maddy was quite used to men looking at her, but this was dif
ferent. He was not looking at her, she believed, but Rob.
“I’ve been poor company again, haven’t I?” Rob finally said.
“Well, yes, to be honest, you have.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been very preoccupied. Something’s wrong at work and I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Maybe it’s time you told me about it,” Maddy said.
Rob put his utensils down, folded his hands on the table, looked her in the eyes thinking it over then said, “You’re right.”
For the next hour, Rob spilled it all. Everything he could think of about the firm. The secret room across the hall, the troubling securities he had shown to Walter; Pascal’s almost uninterested attitude and the concerns that Pat McGarry had expressed.
“And shortly after he told you about his misgivings both he and his girlfriend die in a hiking accident?” Maddy asked.
“The suspicious cop,” Rob smiled and squeezed her hand.
“Seems a little too coincidental,” she replied.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But the authorities checked it out and ruled it an accident.”
“Do you think they’re up to something illegal?” Maddy asked.
“Between you and me, probably, or at least they’re pushing the envelope. But almost every investment firm does. The SEC’s investigation department is a joke. If you think Congress and lobbyists have a revolving door going, it’s nothing compared to Wall Street and the SEC. I believe the SEC is where people go to make employment contacts with the big boys to land big bucks jobs when they leave the SEC.”
“What do you want to do about it?” Maddy asked.
“I think I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and my mouth shut. That’s all I can do for now,” Rob replied.
“You see that man over there?” Maddy asked. “Don’t turn around.”
“How am I supposed to see him if I don’t turn around?”
“There’s a man eating by himself,” Maddy continued ignoring the smart-ass question. “Oh, wait, he’s leaving. Quick, turn around and take a look.”
Rob did as she requested and got a good look at the man.
He turned back to Maddy and said, “Yeah, so?”
“Do you recognize him?”
“No, don’t think so, why?”
“He’s looked over here at us a few times…”
“No doubt checking you out,” Rob smiled.
“No,” Maddy shook her head. “I know that look all too well. I think he was looking at you.”
“Really? Interesting,” Rob said. “Well, I don’t know who he is. Are you coming over tonight?” he asked trying to change the subject.
“And I’m certain I’ve seen him before, recently. I can’t remember when or where but I’m pretty sure it was two or three times over the past week or two,” Maddy said.
Rob turned toward the door just as the man was leaving. “Sorry, I don’t know him,” he lied again.
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but it’s the Friday before a long weekend. Most of the hired hands will be in but the big dogs won’t be around long.”
“Okay, I’ll come over,” Maddy gave him a sly look and added, “and you better not be tired, bub.”
FOURTEEN
Dale Kubik waited impatiently in his car in the restaurant’s parking lot. He was following the woman he blamed for ruining his life. The police Review Board had ruled against him and recommended his termination from the job. Ever since then he had allowed his ego to fuel the flame against the conniving bitch who had caused his problems whom he blamed for being fired, Madeline Rivers. Of course, he was appealing the decision but his lawyer told him it was a long shot, at best.
Kubik was also convinced that certain people, cops envious of him, were also involved. How else would the Rivers woman know where to find him to ply him with liquor? These other cops pointed her at him but she was the one. And she was going to pay.
Rivers and her boyfriend had been in the restaurant almost an hour and a half. While Kubik waited, he sipped scotch from a leather encased, glass flask he carried with him. He had an excellent view of her car and the restaurant’s door. Being a detective for many years, sitting on a stakeout was very familiar to him. He even still had a pee bottle in the car which he had used about a half hour ago.
Kubik’s patience finally paid off. He watched the couple come through the doors holding hands. They parted at the curb, each going to their own cars.
Kubik was well aware of Maddy’s background. He knew she was ex-Chicago PD and a licensed investigator. Tailing her was a job that required care and finesse. From what Kubik had learned, if she thought she was being followed, she would not be shy about stopping to find out why. Or, more likely, she could lose you without much effort.
It was barely two minutes after they left the restaurant that Kubik realized she was not headed home. Maddy was obviously following the boyfriend and knowing his address, Kubik was able to drop back in traffic so as not to be noticed. Fifteen minutes later, from almost two blocks behind them, Kubik saw them pull into the parking lot of Judd’s condo a block west of Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis. As he drove past he saw them go in the front door, Maddy carrying a small overnight bag. Kubik continued along the street without stopping, took another swallow from his flask and smiled to himself. An idea he had been working on in his alcohol-soaked imagination completed itself. He smiled with the realization that what he would do to her would hurt her far more than she hurt him.
Fortunately for Dale Kubik, Charlie Dudek did not notice him drive past Rob Judd’s condo. Charlie was also watching the couple but was only interested in one of them so he had left the restaurant ahead of everyone. He was in the condo’s parking lot two minutes before Rob and Maddy and watched them go in. If Charlie had known about Kubik, it’s likely Dale Kubik would not have seen another sunrise.
Early the next morning, Friday, shortly after 6:00, all five principals of CAR Securities met in the soundproof conference room in Suite 2007. The topic of the meeting was the default rate discovered by Rob Judd that he presented to Walter Pascal the previous afternoon.
Walter had tried to get everyone together the day before but was unsuccessful. Since it was his news, his department and his employee, Corbin Reed let him lead the discussion. He quickly filled everyone in on what Judd found.
“If these are triple A and double A mortgages backing these securities,” Victor Espinosa began, “why is the default rate so high? The housing and real estate markets have been stable for years. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” Ethan Rask said.
Corbin, Walter and Jordan Kemp knew the answer and the three of them silently looked back and forth at each other.
“What the hell is going on?” Espinosa asked, seeing the looks the three men gave each other.
“Look, don’t take this personally, we decided the fewer people that knew, the better,” Corbin said.
“You’ve been keeping something from us?” Rask asked, a trace of anger in his voice.
“Tell them, Walter,” Corbin said.
“These are not triple A and double A mortgages. They’re packaged and sold that way to get past the Feds. There are significant amounts of double B and B-rated tranches in them. Some double and triple A but mostly B-rated mortgages.”
“Seriously?” an incredulous Espinosa said. “How is that possible? I thought that was no longer allowed. That they were not even available on the market.”
“Oh, they’re available,” Pascal shrugged.
“At a very nice discount and they pay four to five points higher than triple A backed securities. We’ve been using the returns to cover cash flow,” Corbin added.
“Do the rating companies know about this? Are they in on it?” Espinosa asked.
“We’ve never tried to find out,” Pascal answered.
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Jordan Kemp added.
“How can this still be going on?” Ethan Rask asked. “I though
t the big boys were done with this.”
Jordan Kemp smugly looked at Espinosa and said, “Let me put it this way, Victor. If you had a serious gambling problem and you could go to Vegas with an unlimited bankroll, would you go?”
“Sure,” Espinosa said.
“And on top of that, you could go knowing the government would make good on your losses, you’d have a great time doing it,” Corbin said.
“Too big to fail,” Rask quietly said.
“Exactly,” Jordan replied. “The big firms that survived the crash of ’07 and ’08, they learned their lesson very well. They can keep gambling….”
“And rigging the game,” Corbin added.
“…all they want,” Kemp continued. “Even the most liberal politician is in their pocket.”
“Where does that leave us?” Rask asked.
“Well, we can’t just dump three hundred forty million in weak securities on the market at once. Someone would notice even as small as we are,” Kemp said. “Besides, we need to hold them for a while yet.”
“What about Rob Judd?” Espinosa asked.
“I can make sure he keeps his nose out of it,” Walter Pascal said.
“So, we’re still good? We’re still on schedule?” Espinosa asked.
“Yep,” Corbin answered. “Everything is fine.”
“Corbin, I have to tell you, I’m not happy about being kept in the dark about this,” Espinosa said. “Is there anything else?”
“No,” Corbin emphatically answered him. “Victor, to tell you the truth, we didn’t think it was that big a deal. Sorry. There’s nothing else.”
With that, the meeting broke up and the men left to start their long weekend early except for Corbin Reed and Ethan Rask. They went into Rask’s office where Rask played an audiotape of Rob Judd and Maddy Rivers’ dinner conversation of the previous evening.
“This is getting out of hand,” Reed said. “What do you think we should do about the girl?”
“We may now have to remove her as a problem,” Rask shrugged. “Or, move up the timeline. We might have to take less but…”
[Marc Kadella 06.0] Delayed Justice Page 10