"What about Paul's secretary?" Carl asked. "Has she heard from him?"
"Not that I know of," Bob said.
"Maybe we should ask her," Angela said, reaching for the phone. "What's her name?"
"Amy Lucas," Carl said.
Angela asked Loren to call Amy Lucas and have her come by ASAP. Angela glanced at her watch. It was twenty after twelve, meaning there was a chance Amy Lucas would be at lunch.
"What's the occasion for the flowers?" Carl asked. "When I saw them, I hoped it had something to do with your morning attempt at raising capital."
"I wish," Angela said. "To tell you the truth, I have no idea who sent them or why."
"Wasn't there a card?" Bob asked.
"There was a card," Angela said, "but it wasn't helpful." She reached for the envelope, slipped out the card, and handed it across the desk. Carl took it, and both men glanced at it.
"What does 'the used one' refer to?" Carl asked.
"Not a clue," Angela admitted. "You don't think it could have anything to do with Paul Yang, do you?"
Both men shook their heads. Carl handed the card back. Angela puzzled over it for a second, and then her phone rang. It was Loren saying Miss Lucas had arrived.
"Send her in," Angela said, tossing the mysterious card to the side.
Loren opened the door, allowed the secretary to enter, then pulled the door shut.
Amy Lucas was a waif-like woman in her mid-twenties. Her features were delicate and her complexion was pale, marred by a sprinkling of acne across her cheeks. Her frizzy blond hair with its lime-green highlights was pulled back from her face and held with a large tortoiseshell clip. Adding to her youthful, almost preteen mien was a simple shirtdress buttoned all the way to her neck. Her hands were clasped in front of her, evincing her nervousness.
Angela introduced herself, since she'd never before met the young woman, and thanked her for coming so quickly.
"No problem," Amy said. "I know who you are."
"Good. And of course you know these gentlemen."
Amy nodded but didn't respond verbally.
"To put you at ease, we called you in here to ask you a couple of questions about your boss, Paul Yang."
In her own hyper state, Angela wasn't certain, but it seemed to her that her attempt at putting Amy at ease had failed. The woman's hands, previously clasped, were now working at each other. The question of whether Paul and Amy might have had or were having an affair popped unbidden into her mind from Bob's statement about Paul's past.
"What kind of questions?" Amy asked. Her eyes quickly jumped back and forth to all three individuals in the room.
"Have you seen him today?"
"No!" Amy said, inordinately quickly in Angela's estimation.
"Has he called or contacted you in any way?" Amy shook her head.
"Did he say anything last evening about not coming in this morning?"
"No."
Angela looked at Bob and Carl and paused in case they had a question. When they didn't respond, Angela redirected her attention to Amy.
"Do you know what a Securities and Exchange Commission form eight-K is?"
"I think so."
"Has Paul Yang had you fill one out recently?"
"Yes, about ten days ago."
"Was it filed?"
"I don't know. I didn't file it. He told me specifically not to file it."
"Did you type it on your workstation monitor?"
"No, he wanted it on his laptop only."
"I see," Angela said. "Is the laptop in his office?"
"No, he always takes it with him."
"So he took it last night in particular."
"Yes, like every night."
Angela glanced at the men again, but they didn't ask any questions.
"Thank you for coming by, Amy," Angela said.
"You're welcome," Amy responded. After a moment's hesitation, she turned and headed for the door.
"Amy!" Angela called out. "When you hear from Paul Yang, please let one of us know."
"Of course," Amy said, and then disappeared.
"Well," Angela said. "That was a little strange."
"How so?" Carl asked.
"She seemed overly nervous."
"I'd be, too, getting a summons to the corner office," Carl said.
"Maybe so," Angela said. "My main concern is that there is a completed eight-K resting in Paul's laptop, which the missing man presumably has with him."
"It doesn't surprise me," Bob said. "It speaks to his methodicalness. Just because it's in his laptop doesn't mean he's going to file it."
"Well, I hope he turns up soon," Angela said. "I suppose that's it for now."
Both men got up and returned the chairs to their original positions against the wall.
"Remember to call our fearless placement agent to get the loan ASAP," Angela said as they filed out.
Bob waved over his shoulder to indicate he'd heard.
"And let me know the instant either of you sees or gets in touch with Paul Yang!"
"Will do," the two men voiced as the door closed behind them.
Angela sighed and looked out the window. She wished she'd not had any coffee that morning. With everything else that was going on, her usually pleasant buzz was magnified a hundred times over. Her phone rang suddenly, and she literally jumped. She took a deep breath to calm herself. When she picked up the phone, Loren told her that Rodger Naughton was on the line. Angela's pulse quickened. This call from Rodger was either very good news or very bad, meaning he was either letting them know that the bank would give them the desperately needed bridge loan, which would be terrific, or informing them that the bank was calling in one or more of their current loans, which would be an unmitigated disaster. Angela thought the chances were higher that it was the latter. With significant trepidation, she pressed the button below the blinking light and said hello as optimistically as she could manage.
"Sorry to bother you," Rodger said.
"No bother," Angela assured him. She had to restrain herself from demanding straight off whether he was calling with good news or bad.
"I just wanted to call and say it was terrific to see you this morning."
"Well, it was nice seeing you," Angela said with confusion. It seemed a strange way for the conversation to begin.
"I also wanted to convey how sorry I am that I cannot be more receptive to your short-term cash needs."
"I understand," Angela said, her confusion deepening.
"I have, as promised, passed it up through the channels."
"It's all that I can ask."
There was a pause. Angela gritted her teeth, expecting the worst.
"I have a request," Rodger said. "This might be out of bounds, so I apologize in advance. But I wonder if you'd be willing to meet with me for a drink after work. We could go to the Modern, which I find particularly pleasant."
"Is this business or social?" Angela asked with surprise.
"Purely social," Rodger said.
The unexpectedness of the request took Angela completely by surprise. Except for the brief and uncharacteristic reflection on her lack of a social life the previous evening, Angela was too busy to think such thoughts.
"That's very flattering," Angela said at length, coming from the credulous side of her personality. But then from the more powerful, experience-based cynical side, she added, "But what would your wife think of such a meeting?"
"I'm not married."
"Oh?" Angela responded, feeling somewhat guilty The image came to mind of the single photo of his daughter on his desk. "My former wife decided that having a boring banker husband and a demanding child was a burden on her preferred lifestyle, so she departed to greener pastures with half my assets. I've been divorced with full custody about five years now."