VP Leigh Tennyson seemed happy to reply. “I agree one hundred percent with what Wilson has said. The right kind of publicity has to be one of our strategic priorities, especially now with a cloud of uncertainty hanging over the firm. Word-of-mouth praises from our clients have served the company well in the past, but the world has changed and so have we.”
Wilson smiled to himself, thinking that she couldn’t possibly be part of the partnership, unless she was an exceptional poker player. The last thing the secret partnership needed was unnecessary publicity.
The most difficult question came from a thirty-something consultant who said he’d been with the firm for three years. “What was the reason for the moratorium on corporate restructuring engagements, and where do things currently stand?”
Wilson decided to give the question to John Malouf, VP of the corporate restructuring practice. “John, would you like to handle this one?”
“Supply and demand,” he said in his usual arrogant, enigmatic way. “Too few staff for too many clients. We simply had to slow things down. We should be ready to take on new clients by May.”
He handled the question skillfully, if not truthfully, Wilson thought. The real reason for limiting corporate restructuring engagements, according to Daniel, had been to stop the growing abuse of Fielder amp; Company’s methods and practices. Although a part of Wilson liked John Malouf-perhaps because he reminded him of his father-it seemed more and more likely that Malouf was a member of the insider’s club.
After the Q amp;A session was over and everyone was mingling around a lavish luncheon buffet, a recent recruit from the Wharton Business School asked Malouf why Fielder amp; Company had been dubbed the most secretive consulting firm in America. Wilson couldn’t help overhearing the conversation and Malouf knew it.
“Secrecy sells,” Malouf said.
“What about the new marketing and publicity initiative?” returned the recruit.
“Publicity also sells,” Malouf said.
“You don’t consider the two of them mutually exclusive?”
“Not if you publicize Fielder amp; Company’s furtiveness the way Kresge publicizes its mystique,” Malouf said, more talkative than usual.
“Is that what we’re planning to do?”
“That’s what I’m planning to do,” Malouf said as he glanced over at Wilson.
Wilson held Malouf’s eyes for a moment to let him know that he’d heard his response. Then, a man about Wilson’s age and height tapped him on the shoulder and informed him that they should be leaving for the airport. It was Hap Greene’s man, Mike Anthony, who was also serving as one of their pilots for the whirlwind tour. The game was afoot.
32
Tate — Sorrento, Italy
Bob Swatling fought down his mounting panic as he called Wayland Tate on one of the disposable encrypted phones. It was three o’clock in the morning in New York, nine o’clock on the Bacchus in the Bay of Sorrento.
Tate answered the phone from the upper deck where he was enjoying coffee with his lady friends. “What is it?” he asked, recognizing the emergency ID. He stood up and walked toward the ship’s stern.
“We just finished analyzing the telephone and video monitoring feeds after hacking into the Lake House security system. Fourteen hours ago, David Quinn met with Sam Wiseman, Deputy Director of the FBI, and Kirsten Kohl, head of the FBI’s corporate crime division. He spilled the beans on you and Kamin. Vargas was upstairs in the spa. She knows nothing about it.”
Tate’s body tensed, his mind immediately immersed in contingencies.
“Keep Vargas uninformed. I’ll contact Marco. You can advise Kamin. He’s in Rome. Tell him to switch identities and get lost for a few days. I’ll be doing the same,” Tate said decisively. “Double check the Musselman trading entities. Close down anything that won’t withstand an SEC inquisition. I’ll take care of the other partners. Call me again in two hours.”
“Will do,” Swatling said before clicking off.
Tate left straightaway for the ship’s bridge one deck below. He told the captain to raise anchor, display the yacht’s alternate identity, and chart a course for Monaco where he had full diplomatic immunity. Then he went to his private office off the master suite and opened the concealed vault. He withdrew two encrypted cell phones. His first call was to Diane Morita who was staying at the Quisiana on the island of Capri. He told her to begin executing emergency contingency plans and to advise key partners, the clandestine supplier network, and her staff-with the exception of Andrea Vargas. His second call was to Marco, notifying him to begin damage control immediately.
33
Quinn — Lake Forest, IL
Less than twenty-four hours after Deputy Director Wiseman and Senior Agent Kohl had set the wheels of justice in motion, there was a soft knock on the door of the master suite at the Lake House. David Quinn got up from the bed and put on his robe, before entering the suite’s foyer to open the door. It was Jackson Ebbs telling him that Mr. Frederickson wanted to talk to him on the secure phone in the library. Quinn told Vargas that he would be right back.
“Quinn here,” he said when he got on the line in the library.
“It’s Wiseman,” The FBI executive said. “Immunity for you and your company has been approved. Arrest warrants for Tate and Kamin have been issued, but they’re currently out of the country. We’re trying to track them now. Federal Grand Jury subpoenas could come as early as Friday afternoon,” Wiseman said.
Quinn was both relieved and stunned. In return for immunity, Quinn had promised the FBI that he would testify, but he never imagined it would happen so quickly. He’d been expecting to have more time to end things with Vargas and prepare his family. Suddenly, that seemed impossible.
Wiseman continued, “We’re still uncovering the full range of surveillance on you. To say it’s extensive would be an understatement. Security systems at the Lake House seem adequate, but the sooner you leave the better. Go about your business as usual, until we advise you otherwise. Don’t do anything that will raise suspicions. I suggest you limit what you tell your family for as long as you can. You and your family will be relocated and placed under twenty-four-hour witness protection, prior to any subpoenas or arrests.”
When Wiseman finished, Quinn said, “All I ask is that you make sure surveillance at my home in Hinsdale and in my office at Musselman is jammed or curtailed.” Then he said good-bye and hung up. Despite Wiseman’s warnings, he’d have to tell his wife and family, before overzealous journalists exposed his sins to the world. When he returned to the master suite, Vargas must have seen the lingering torment on his face, even though he tried to clear his thoughts before opening the door.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, walking up to him and placing her hands on his chest as she looked into his eyes.
“Everything’s fine,” Quinn said, trying hard to act casual. He couldn’t afford to raise any doubts in Vargas’ mind, at least not until he and his family were under full protection. He could only imagine what Tate might be capable of doing if he found out too early. “For the first time in my life, I’m actually lamenting going back to work.”
Vargas kissed him on the lips. “Not as much as I am,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder, her lips caressing his neck.
Quinn turned his head and kissed her on the forehead, but he knew she was lying. He had seen the veiled pain on her face during the last time they’d made love. That would not be the time he’d choose to remember for the rest of his life. “Maybe we can get away again this weekend,” he said.
The two of them picked at a platter of fruit and cheese as they got dressed and prepared to leave what had been their love nest for the past several days. After they said their saccharine good-byes, Vargas left for Musselman headquarters to resume her preparations for the grand opening, and Quinn drove home to Hinsdale where his wife was preparing for a celebration.