Brad Meltzer - The Millionaires

Charlie grabs the letter. I grab the receiver, killing the speakerphone. “Okay, thanks again for the help.” With a crash, I’m off.

“H-Hey, Shep,” Charlie sings, putting on his happy face for the head of Security.

“Everything okay?” Shep asks, stepping toward us.

“Yeah,” Charlie says.

“Absolutely,” I add.

“What could possibly be wrong?”

The last one’s Charlie’s and he kicks himself as soon as it leaves his lips.

“So what can I help you with today, Shep?” I ask.

“Actually, I was hoping to help you ,” Shep blurts. There go the kid gloves.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“I just wanted to talk to you about that transfer you made to Tanner Drew…”

Charlie’s shoulders sag with instant dread. He’s no good with confrontation.

“That was a perfectly legal transfer,” I challenge.

“ Listen ,” Shep interrupts. “Spare me the tone.” Sensing that he has our attention, he adds, “I already spoke to Lapidus – he’s thrilled you had the balls to take charge. Tanner Drew’s happy; all is well. But from my side of the desk… well, I don’t like seeing forty million dollars go zip… especially when you’re using someone else’s password.”

How’d he know we-

“You think they hired me for my looks?” Shep asks, laughing. “With thirteen billion at risk, we’ve got the best security money can buy.”

“Well, if you need any backup, I’ve got a pretty good bike lock,” Charlie adds, trying to keep things light.

Shep turns directly toward him. “Oh, man, would you love it, Charlie – I got this one option – you ever heard of Investigator software?”

Charlie shakes his head. He’s out of jokes.

“It lets you do keystroke monitoring,” Shep adds, all his attention now on me. “Which means when you’re sitting at your computer, I can see every word you’re typing. E-mail, letters, passwords… as soon as you hit the key, it pops up on my screen.”

“You sure that’s legal?” I ask.

“You kiddin’? It’s like standard issue these days – Exxon, Delta Airlines, even bitchy spouses who want to see what their husbands are doing in chat rooms – they all use it. I mean, why do you think the bank puts all our computers on one network – so you can send in-house e-mail? Big Brother ain’t comin’ – he’s been here for years.”

I glance over at Charlie, who’s staring way too intently at the computer screen. Oh, jeez. The fake letter…

“It’s really amazin’,” Shep continues. “You can program it like an alarm – so if someone’s using Mary’s password, and the security system says she’s no longer in the building… it’ll pop up on your screen and tell you what’s going on.”

“Listen, I’m sorry I hadda do that…”

“So there’s the Brooklyn accent,” Shep grins. “What, it only comes out when you’re nervous? Is that when you forget to hide it?”

“No, it’s just… under the circumstances, I didn’t know what to…”

“Donworryaboudit,” Shep says, rubbing in the old neighborhood. “Like I said, Lapidus didn’t give a squat. When it comes to the tech stuff, he doesn’t care that I can see when someone types in Mary’s name, or his name…” Shep glances over my shoulder and his voice slows down. “… or even that I can see when someone’s using a company computer to write a fraudulent letter.”

Charlie shoots up in his seat, and suddenly I’m not the only one wearing the constipated mask.

“I’ll tell ya, they never had that when I was in the Service,” Shep continues, taking a few steps toward us and rolling up his shirtsleeves. He scratches his forearms – first right, then left – and I see for the first time how massive they are. “These days… with the computers… you can have ’em notify you of anything…” he adds, the old neighborhood now long gone. “… forty-million-dollar transfers to Tanner Drew… or three-million-dollar transfers to Marty Duckworth…”

Son of a bitch.

I’m paralyzed. I can’t move.

“It’s over, son. We know what you’re up to.”

Charlie jumps out of his seat and pumps a little laughter into his voice. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Shep – easy on the nightstick – you don’t think we-”

Shep plows past him, a finger pointed straight at my face. “Do I look blind to you, Oliver!?” Looking down, I don’t answer. “I asked you a question, son: Do you really think I’m that much of a moron? I knew from the second you sent that first fax, it was just a matter of time until you blew it.”

“The first fax?” Charlie blurts. “The Kinko’s one? You think that was us ?” He puts a hand on Shep’s shoulder, hoping to buy a second or two. “I swear to you, buddy – we never sent that – in fact… in fact, when we got in this morning… we were… we were trying to catch the thief ourselves… isn’t that right, Oliver? We were doing the same thing as you!”

Ghost white, I just sit there. Charlie knows I’m lost. He glares my way. Dammit, Ollie… get with it. Please .

Turning back to Shep, Charlie laughs like it’s a riot. “I swear to you, Shep. We were trying to track the thief oursel-”

“Knock, knock – anyone home?” a scratchy voice shouts as the door to my office swings open. Shep spins around and finds the source of the voice – the paunchy, but still impeccably dressed middle-aged man who’s now approaching my desk – Francis A. Quincy, head financial partner of the firm. Behind him is the boss himself. Henry Lapidus.

I throw on a phony grin, but down low, my toes dig toward the carpet.

“Look who it is – the forty-million-dollar man!” Lapidus sings my way. “Believe it or not, I hear Tanner Drew’s holding a spot for you in his will.” As he says the words, he wipes his hand across his mostly bald head – it’s part of his constant state of kinetic motion. Despite his towering six-foot-three frame, Lapidus is like a hummingbird in human form… flap, flap, flap, all day long. I used to think it was an energy that couldn’t be contained. Charlie used to say it was hemorrhoids. They always show up around assholes.

“And guess who we brought for you?” Lapidus asks. Stepping aside, he reveals a nebbishy turtle-faced kid slicked up in a way-too-expensive Italian suit. He’s our age and looks familiar, but I…

“Kenny?” Charlie blurts.

Kenny Owens. My freshman year roommate at NYU. Obnoxious Long Island rich kid. Haven’t seen him in years – but the suit alone tells me nothing’s changed. Still a putz.

“Been a long time, huh?” Kenny asks. He’s waiting for an answer, but Charlie and I are both eyeing Shep.

“I thought you’d like some time to catch up,” Lapidus says, sounding like he’s setting us up on a date.

“Old friends and all that…” Quincy adds.

Cocking his head, Charlie knows something’s up. As a rule, Quincy hates everyone. Like most CFOs, all he cares about is the money. But today… today, we’re all family. And if Lapidus and Quincy are personally taking Kenny around… he must be interviewing for a job.

Before anyone can get a word in, Lapidus follows our gaze to Shep. “And what’re you doing here?” Lapidus asks, sounding pleasantly surprised. “More lecturing about Tanner Drew?”

“Yeah,” Shep says dryly. “All about Tanner Drew.”

“Well, why don’t you save it for later,” Lapidus adds. “Let these boys have some time alone.”

“Actually, this is more important,” Shep challenges.

“Maybe you didn’t understand,” Quincy jumps in. “We want these boys to have some time alone.” Right there, the fight’s over. CFO outranks Security.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Lapidus says to me. Leaning in close, he whispers, “And take it from me, Oliver – helping us get Kenny – it’s a perfect way to round out your B-school applications.”