Джозеф Файндер - Company Man

“Yes. Andrew said his daughter had his mechanical ability, and he’d taught her how to fix all sorts of things, and one night after they’d asked her to stop coming over she slipped into their house through the bulkhead doors, opened the gas line, and lit a match on her way out.”

“Dear God. She was never charged.”

“I was quite sure this was simply a fantasy of Andrew’s, a manifestation of his paranoid fixation on his daughter. In any case, who would suspect a twelve-year-old girl? The authorities thought it was Andrew, but his alibi apparently held up under questioning. Something similar happened, you know, at Carnegie Mellon University during Helen’s freshman year there. Andrew told me that his daughter belonged to a sorority, and she was quite obsessed with them as a surrogate family of sorts. Much later, he said, he heard about the terrible gas explosion in the sorority house in which eighteen women perished. This was the same night that Helen drove home from Pittsburgh, quite upset that one of her sorority sisters had said something to make her feel rejected.”

“I... I have to go, Doctor,” she said, ending the call.

Bryan Mundy had rolled up to her in his wheelchair and was signaling to her. “Talk about coincidences,” he said. “We were talking about Conover’s house, and what do you know? We just got an alert on that system, maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago.”

“An alert?”

“No, not a burglar alarm or anything. Combustible gas detector. Probably a gas leak. But the homeowner said she’s got it under control.”

“She?”

“Mrs. Conover.”

“There is no Mrs. Conover,” Audrey said, heart knocking.

Mundy shrugged. “That’s how she identified herself,” he said, but Audrey was already running toward the door.

Todd immediately sprang to his feet, followed by Eilers and Finegold. Their faces were wreathed in anxious cordiality.

“Mind if I join you?” Osgood asked gruffly.

“Willard,” Todd said, “I had no idea you were coming.” He turned to Nick. “You see? The personal touch — some people never lose it.”

Osgood ignored him as he took the empty seat at the head of the board table.

“There isn’t going to be any sale,” Nick said. “The sale is wrong for Stratton, and wrong for Fairfield. We too have looked at the numbers — and by ‘we,’ I mean Willard and I... and that’s our considered assessment.”

“May I speak?” Todd said.

“We’re talking about an opportunity here,” Scott said. “Not something that’s going to knock twice.”

“An opportunity?” Nick asked. “Or a danger?” He paused, and turned to Stephanie Alstrom. “Stephanie, a few words? I know I haven’t given you enough time to prepare a PowerPoint presentation, but maybe you can do it the old-fashioned way.”

Stephanie Alstrom started sorting through the stapled sheaths in her file, making three separate stacks next to her. “Here’s the principal tort and criminal case law governing the salient issues, starting with federal statutes,” she began in her most juiceless tone. “There’s the Bribery of Foreign Officials Act of 1999, part No. 43, and the International Anti-Bribery and Fair Competition Act of 1998, and — oh heavens — the antifraud provisions of the securities laws, Section 10(b) of the Securities Exchange Act of 1934 and Rule 10b-5. And, though I haven’t read through the case law properly yet, there’s Section 13(b)(5) of the Exchange Act and Rule 13b2-1, to deal with.” She was sounding increasingly flustered. “And, of course, Sections 13(a) and 13(b)(2)(A) of the Exchange Act, and Rules 12b-20 and 13a too. But also there’s—”

“I think we get the picture,” Nick said smoothly.

“Pretty much what Dino Panetta told me back in Boston,” Osgood rumbled.

“That is ridiculous,” Todd said. Blood was returning to his face. Too much blood. “These are completely unfounded allegations that I dispute—”

“Todd?” Osgood’s craggy face formed a scowl. “It’s one thing if you want to go fly-fishing with your private parts for bait, but you do not put the partnership at risk. Question I was asking myself last night was, Where did I go wrong? Then this morning, I had the answer. I didn’t go wrong. You went wrong. You ignored company policy and made a huge bet on microchips, way more than you should have, and the entire firm almost went belly-up as a result. Then you figured you could save your ass, and ours, by doing a quick-and-dirty sale. A nice big pile of dough, and who cares how you got it. Well, not like this.” He struck the table, stressing each word. “Not. Like. This.” His eyes flashed behind his Coke-bottle glasses. “Because you’ve put Fairfield Equity Partners in a potentially ruinous legal situation. We could have brown-suited lawyers from the SEC camped out on Federal Street for the next five years, combing through our files with a jeweler’s loupe. You wanted to land a big fish — and you didn’t care if you rammed the boat through a goddamned barrier reef to do it.”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Todd said, wheedling. “Fairfield is in no danger.”

“Damned right,” Osgood replied. “Fairfield Equity Partners is completely in the clear.”

“Good,” Todd said uncertainly.

“That’s right,” Osgood said. “Because the partnership did the responsible thing. Demonstrated it wasn’t party to the misdeeds. As soon as the errant behavior came to our attention, we severed our relations with the principals — former principals, not to put too fine a point on it, and took all possible measures to separate ourselves from the malefactors. Including the commencement of legal action against Todd Erickson Muldaur. You violated the gross misconduct clause of your agreement with the Partnership, which means, as I’m sure you know, that your share reverts to the general equity fund.”

“You’re joking,” Todd said, blinking as if there was a bit of grit lodged behind one of his blue contact lenses. “I’ve got all my money invested in Fairfield. You can’t just declare—”

“You signed the same agreement we all did. Now we’re activating the provision. Only way to show the feds we’re serious. You can contest it — I’m sure you will. But I think you’ll find most high-powered lawyers are going to want to see a hefty chunk of their fee up front. And we’ve already filed for a separate tort claim against you and your coconspirator, Mr. McNally, for a hundred and ten million dollars. We’ve requested that the judge place the funds we’re trying to recover in escrow, pending legal resolution, and we’ve received indications that he intends to do so.”

Scott’s face looked like a plaster death mask. He tugged robotically at a lock of hair at his temple. As Nick listened to Osgood, he found himself staring out the window at the charred buffalo grass. It no longer looked like a lifeless black carpet anymore, he noticed. The new grass had begun to grow back. Tiny green blades were now peeking through the black.

“That’s insane!” Todd spoke with a squeaky groan, a crowbar pulling out a long nail. “You can’t do that. I will not be treated this way, Willard. I’m owed some basic respect. I am a full-fledged partner at Fairfield, of eight years’ standing. I’m not some... some goddamn catfish you can play catch-and-release with.”

Osgood turned to Nick. “He’s got a point. You wouldn’t want to mix him up with a catfish. You see, one’s a bottom-feeding, scum-sucking scavenger...”

“And the other’s a fish,” Nick said. “Got it. And one more bit of business.” He looked around the table. “Now that Stratton’s future is secure, I’m hereby submitting my resignation.”