Brian Haig - The Capitol Game

The only peculiarity was that she preferred to work alone, with a curious tendency to be slightly secretive; she wasn’t snobby or standoffish, though. She was a welcome addition at the Friday night happy hours when the investigators unwound from a long week of weeding out crooks and busting perps.

The past eleven months, she had been chasing the big-time white-collar crooks at the corporate level. And whatever doubts Nicky once harbored were a thing of the past.

“What else are you working on today?” Nicky asked, very reasonably, as though this was negotiable. It wasn’t.

“A meeting with the prosecutors on the Boeing case. Case goes to court next week. Also, I need to take some depositions on the Phillips Aviation case.” She waved a hand at the stack he had just placed on her desk, almost lost among all the other stacks. She was very neat and tidy but the profusion of paper was too much for such a small desk. “Don’t worry, Nicky, I’ll do it.”

“Yes, you will. But thanks.” Nicky turned around and began the torturous journey back to his office.

The moment he was out of sight, Mia pushed aside the documents dealing with Mendelson Refineries. She pulled out the stack she had hidden beneath another stack when Nicky surprised her and returned to the documents she had been reading.

In her right hand was the Senate bill providing funding for CG’s polymer, in her left the House version of the same bill. She was halfway through the two pieces of legislation, meticulously comparing them line by line. They were identical, so far; even the periods and commas were identically placed.

Mendelson Refineries, even if the tip panned out, was worth, at best, only $2 million in fraud. She would study it later, only after she finished her own project.

A much bigger fish was in her sights.

It took Morgan a full day to track down Su Young O’Malley in a small, untidy row house in Queens, about midway on a long block of eerily identical homes. He’d wasted nearly a week locating her. The name change threw him for a full five days. After she left Primo, it turned out, she had married an NYPD cop, produced four kids, and now lived the harried existence of stay-at-home mom.

Morgan could hear small kids squalling in the background when she came to the door. He withdrew his phony badge and gave her the usual cooked-up story about a routine background check.

She explained that she was alone with the kids, and quite busy. He assured her that he didn’t mind; he would fit his questions in between diaper changes and feedings.

After a moment of indecision she caved and invited him in. The home was small and cramped, the floor covered with toys and child pens and enough kiddy bric-a-brac to outfit a Kids-R-Us superstore. Su Young immediately dashed over to a crib where a tiny runt in PJs was howling and flailing his arms.

She lifted him out, planted him firmly on a shoulder, and began to weave back and forth. After about fifteen seconds, the kid shut up. “What do you want to know?” she asked with a strong Brooklyn accent.

Morgan quickly took her through his repertoire of soft opening questions, the same ones he had tried out on Marigold Anders-was Jack a good boss, was he honest, forthright, a true red-white-and-blue American, and so forth.

Yes, all the above.

Then came an unwelcome break while she dashed into the kitchen for some mysterious purpose. He sat and listened to her banging around. She emerged a few minutes later, her hands loaded with feeding bottles. She tossed one at him. “Pick any kid you want and get to work,” she ordered.

He chose the one who looked almost catatonic, put him on his lap, and stuffed the bottle between his lips. “You’re not working anymore?” he asked, an attempt to be friendly.

“Nope.”

“All these kids, I guess. Good call.”

“No, I quit before the kids.”

“Why?”

“Working for Jack was a ball. After he left, I got stuck with a slimy jerk. One of those guys with a fetish for Asian girls. Know what I mean? Always touching me, always making lewd comments. ‘Hey, open my zipper and read your fortune, cookie. Why don’t you chop on my stick?’ And those were his best lines. I got creeped out and quit.”

“Should’ve reported him.”

“Hah! Good luck. It’s Wall Street. Boys will be boys.”

Morgan paused for a moment. Who cared? “Do you remember a client named Edith Warbinger?”

For a moment she looked confused, and he was ready to end it there. But she popped a palm off her forehead. “Oh, you mean Mrs. Warbitcher.”

“Yeah, I guess. How much do you remember about her?”

“A lot. Too much. Our most high-maintenance account.”

“I heard from someone that she had Parkinson’s.”

“Only later. She was just very, well, let’s say demanding.”

This didn’t match what Charles had told him, about a sweet, naïve old lady who had entrusted Jack with everything. Maybe it was a matter of perspective. “In what ways?” he inched forward and asked.

“What way wasn’t she? She thought that bundle of dough gave her the right to be that way. She’d had a miserable life, and after the money came in, took it out on everybody. Drove Jack and me crazy.”

“I heard she went on a long cruise.”

“Oh that.” Su Young laughed. “What a relief. For us, I mean. I’m sure it was miserable for the cruise line.”

“Then she disappeared, right?”

“Someplace in Greece, I think.”

“Any idea what happened to her?”

“My guess would be the crew tossed her overboard. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but she really was a demanding bitch.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I could tell you stories for an hour.”

“What did Jack do when she disappeared?” he asked, before the stories could start.

“He, or maybe the firm, hired some private detectives. For good or bad, she was our client. Jack insisted on it.”

“Was she ever found?” Morgan asked.

“What’s this got to do with Jack’s background check?” She was staring at him with growing suspicion now.

“Just following up on something somebody mentioned. Please bear with me.”

“No, she wasn’t found.”

“And this was right around the time Jack left the firm?”

“I suppose it was around then.”

“Why did Jack leave?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“We did. I’m corroborating. Please answer.”

Su Young pondered this for a moment, as though she had never considered the question. “You know what I thought? I don’t think he was ever happy there.”

“Wanted to make more money, huh?”

“No. I mean, I guess who doesn’t, right? Just, well, it wasn’t a nice place to work. Cutthroat, dog-eat-dog. Plenty of backstabbing and unhappy people.”

“Did Jack have any problems with the CEO?”

“You mean Kyle?”

A quick nod. “I heard they were at each other’s throats.”

“No, he… well, they all loved Jack. He brought in so much money, the big shots pretty much left him alone. Even gave him a million-dollar bonus when he walked out the door. Should’ve been a lot more, given what he did for them, you ask me.”

Morgan had a long list of questions left to ask but it would be a waste of time to prolong this. Jack’s more questionable activities evidently did not make it down to the secretarial level, which came as no surprise. Morgan put down the baby and stood. He straightened his jacket, then slapped his head. “Oh, one last question.”

Su Young was already out of her chair and moving for the child he had just put down. The kid was making fast tracks for the hot radiator in the corner, but she snatched him off the floor just in time.

As nonchalantly as possible, Morgan asked, “Do you remember who introduced Jack to the firm? They must’ve been close. Another Princeton grad, I think.”