Due Diligence: A Thriller (33 page)

In fact, there was only one person who knew every one of these things.

Emmy was watching him. “Are you going to say something?”

“To who? Pete Stanzy already just about fired me for asking questions. I say something now, what happens then?”

“Wouldn’t he want to know?”

“If I’ve seen the red flags, Emmy, you can bet he’s seen them as well.”

“But he doesn’t know everything you know. He doesn’t know what you were told in London.”

“He’s knows enough. He knows enough to have done something. I go back to him now, it’s like rubbing his nose in it. Emmy, you weren’t there when he tried to fire me. I go back to him again, I won’t get to finish the first sentence before he sacks me.”

“Last time you said you might go higher up.”

“I could, but … the minute I do that, what’ll he do? He’ll say he’s already on to it. He’ll say we’ve already had a conversation about it. He’ll make me look like an insubordinate. The junior guy never wins in these situations.”

Emmy frowned. “If the guys at this company have been doing the things you say, they deserve to be exposed.”

“I can’t be certain of this without seeing their books. And I can’t see their books. I don’t have access.”

“But you’re pretty sure. More than pretty sure. Rob, if they’ve ruined one company, they’ll just do the same to the next one they buy.”

“Jesus, Emmy! The other day you were telling me I should protect my job. Now what are you saying?”

“I’m saying something’s wrong here.” Emmy gazed at him. “The other day you didn’t know what you know now.”

“It’s still not proof.”

“It’s close. It’s a lot more than you had before. I don’t want to tell you what to do, but you asked me. You have to do something about this. I’m sorry. That’s what I think.”

Rob took a deep breath. “I know I do. I just don’t know exactly what the best way is to do it. All I’ve got now is a pointer about where to look. Without actually seeing their books, without actually seeing the figures, I can’t say a hundred percent that I know what’s going on.”

Emmy nodded. She reached for his hand.

There was silence.

Suddenly Emmy glanced up at him. “Were you the one who talked to that journalist?”

Rob looked at her in surprise. “No. Why do you ask?”

Emmy shrugged. “I just thought you might have.”

“She bumped into me. The day before the article came out. She asked me some questions. I didn’t tell her anything. I just said ‘no comment.’”

“You know her?”

“No. Never seen her before in my life.” Rob thought about it for a moment. “I still have her card.”

“That’s odd, don’t you think, that she just bumped into you? Just like that? The day before the article came out.”

Rob shrugged. “She must have already got hold of the story and been looking for someone to confirm.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No.”

Emmy frowned. “I don’t know, Rob. I don’t know what to tell you. It’s unfair that you’ve been put in this position. You’ve worked so hard for this, it’s taken you so long…” She shook her head. “It’s so unfair.”

Rob nodded. That’s how it seemed.

Emmy’s brow furrowed in concern. “You’re not in any danger, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know all these things … someone’s told you this stuff, secrets. You don’t think you’re at risk?”

Rob smiled. “Emmy, these are businessmen. Fat, middle-aged businessmen. What are they gonna do? Call out the mob?”

Emmy shrugged. “I guess not.” She paused. “Isn’t there anyone who can help you? Someone you can talk to about it?”

“I’ve tried that.”

“Someone else?”

“Like who? All of this is ultraconfidential. Even the fact that there’s a deal is confidential.”

“There must be someone. It doesn’t always have to be you against the world, Rob.”

Rob smiled.

“What?” said Emmy.

“I just had a thought. I could call up that journalist and give her the scoop. Last time the Buffalo ran a mile and the deal almost collapsed. And they had nothing compared to what I’ve got now. I wouldn’t even have to mention the deal. I could just say I’ve got information that there’s problems with these two companies that Leopard owns, Grogon and ExPar. They print that, the Buffalo will take notice. They’ll ask the Leopard what it’s about. The Leopard won’t have a choice. Either they produce the figures to refute the charges or it shows them up for what they are.”

“What if they found out it was you?”

“How? Confidentiality, right? A journalist never reveals her sources. It’s the best of both worlds. The information gets out and I’m protected.”

Emmy frowned. “Well, maybe…”

Rob laughed. “I’m only kidding. It’d never work. It’s too good to be true.”

“Yeah.” Emmy laughed, too.

But they soon found themselves looking seriously at each other.

Actually, when you thought about it, why wouldn’t it work?

34

It was the paltriness of the sum that was the hook. Sandy Pereira knew it as soon as she heard the message on the Groanline. Jealousy, outrage, accusation, and counteraccusation—over a measly five hundred bucks. A “No, New York!” classic.

The only problem was that the lady on the phone was refusing to admit it.

“I never said it,” she claimed. “Never, never! Will I say such a thing? To my own niece?”

“Mrs. Torres, I know you did,” said Sandy Pereira.

“Who? Who tells you such a thing? Such a terrible thing!”

“I can’t tell you, Mrs. Torres.”

“People have dirty tongues. People are jealous.”

Jealous of five hundred bucks? According to the accusation on the Groanline—anonymous, of course—Mrs. Maria Torres had told her niece that she would withhold the money she’d promised her on her wedding if she married a certain boy called Felipe. She wanted the niece, Corazón, to marry Umberto, who was the son of one of Mrs. Torres’s friends. Needless to say, Corazón didn’t love Umberto. She didn’t hate him, she just didn’t love him. Umberto himself would marry Corazón, according to the Groanline, but this was because he had no scruples, as he had shown many times, for instance when he visited his mother in the hospital every day only to make himself seem better than his brother, Alejandro, who was unable to visit so frequently because his job as a debt collector kept him working late at night.…

The Groanline message had been a long and detailed one, with numerous diversions, worthy of an episode of a soap opera, if not an entire series. Mrs. Torres herself was childless. The “dowry,” as the anonymous female informer called it, that she had promised her niece was the sum of five hundred dollars. She had promised it ever since Corazón was a little girl. It was probably Corazón, thought Sandy, who had left the message.

If it had been a hundred thousand dollars, it would have been different. You would have been on one side or the other. You would have felt sorry for the niece, or you would have thought, Serves her right if she wants to go her own way, she has to take what’s coming. But at five hundred dollars, it made you cringe. You couldn’t sympathize with either side. It made you want to shout out, “You, for God’s sake, give her the five hundred bucks! And you, for God’s sake, if she doesn’t, forget about it!”

Sandy sighed. Five hundred bucks. She rolled her eyes. This was what she had to deal with.

Mrs. Torres was crying now. She was obviously guilty, guilty as sin. It was only a question of whether Sandy would use her name in the article. The readers liked to see names. But if she couldn’t get Mrs. Torres to admit it on the phone, which was being recorded, it would be safer not to. Not that Mrs. Torres was likely to sue, but you never knew. It could be a setup. Mrs. Torres might be recording the call as well, and she and Corazón could be in it together. Corazón leaves the message, Mrs. Torres denies it, the
Herald
publishes, then—bang—you’ve got your lawsuit.

“Mrs. Torres, it’s true, isn’t it, that you promised you’d give Corazón five hundred dollars on the day she gets married?”

“Is true!” wailed Mrs. Torres.

“And it’s true as well that you said she’d get nothing when she told you she was marrying Felipe.”

“Is such a horrible boy! Thoughtless, careless. Will he be good for her? You tell me this.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Torres,” muttered Sandy in exasperation.

“Listen. Umberto, he is nice. He cares. When you get out from the car, he opens the door for you. This is nice, no?”

“It sounds nice. Mrs. Torres—”

“And when his mother is sick, he goes every day to visit her in the hospital.”

“Mrs. Torres—”

“Not once does he miss. You think Felipe will do this? If his mother is in the hospital, you think he will visit? For a
histerectomía
. You think a
histerectomía
. Imagine. For a man, a
histerectomía
is not something he likes to think. But every day, Umberto goes. His brother, Alejandro? Does he go? No. But Umberto, every day, not one day does he—”

“Mrs. Torres!” interrupted Sandy. “You refused to give her the money, didn’t you? I know you did. Admit it.”

There was silence.

“Admit it!”

“Maybe I say … maybe I am upset.… Corazón, she will never think I will not give it to her.”

“But you’re not going to, are you?”

“Who says this?”

“You told her you wouldn’t.”

“Was not serious. My Corazón…” Mrs. Torres began to cry again. “
Ai!
She is like my own daughter.”

“You don’t have a daughter,” said Sandy coldly.

Mrs. Torres wailed.

Sandy had had enough. “You said you wouldn’t give it to her, Mrs. Torres. I know you did.”

“I will give it.”

Great, thought Sandy. There goes the story.

“Thank you. I will give it.”

“What about Umberto?”

“Ah, it is Corazón I love. She is my light. If Felipe make her happy, I am happy.”

“But he won’t make her happy!”

“Who can tell? Life. Love. These are strange, no?”

Sandy listened to her in disgust. Suddenly the old tyrant had gone all philosophical.

“Thank you, miss. Is a very good talk we have. Why do you call me? Does someone tell you we must have this talk?”

Yeah, thought Sandy, and she felt like telling her exactly who.

“Thank you.”

“A real pleasure,” said Sandy.

She put the phone down. She thought about it, looking over the notes on her pad. She’d still write the story. No names, though.

She looked up. Marvin Koller was standing over her desk. Leering into her cleavage.

She straightened up.

Marvin ran his hand over his thin, oily hair. “Cracking another big story?”

“What do you want, Marvin?”

“I want a little action.”

Sandy rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious. A week ago, you give me this rumor about Louisiana Light. Come on, where’s the follow-up?”

Sandy shrugged.

“What about your source? You said he had proof.”

“Look, it’s very … you know, he’s…”

“What? This was some bullshit thing you picked up on the street, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“You never had a source,” said Marvin. “You just heard something.”

Sandy didn’t answer that.

“Don’t try to put one over on me, honey, because I’ve seen it all.”

Marvin shook his head in a great show of disgust. In reality, he never really thought Sandy had had a reliable source. At most, he figured it was barroom bravado from some Wall Street type trying to impress her. But he was disappointed with the outcome of the story. He’d expected at least some kind of a response from Louisiana Light, which he could then use to push the story along a couple more issues. Make that the story, at least. But all he got was a call from Amanda Bellinger. He said he’d go off the record, expecting her to tell him something. But all she did was try to find out about his source and then threaten him with litigation if he published anything else. She didn’t give him anything, not a crumb for him to use, off the record or not. The whole thing, in short, was very disappointing. When Marv Koller was disappointed, he liked to share the pain around.

“Marvin,” said Sandy, “if I get anything else, I’ll tell you right away.”

“Yeah? Real stories don’t just come to you on the Groanline, Sandy. They don’t just walk up to you while you sit here on your fat ass. You gotta go out and get ’em. You gotta make ’em. Didn’t they teach you that at Columbia?”

“NYU,” muttered Sandy.

Marvin snorted. “You get out there and find me something on this. You let me know when you do.” He stared at her for a moment longer, then walked away.

Sandy turned back to her notes. She opened a new document on her computer and began typing.

How low can you go when two people fall in love? In Queens, an aunt who shall remain nameless has decided to show us. When her niece, 24, fell in love with

Sandy stared at the words. NYU, she thought resentfully. This is what they were preparing her for at NYU.

She backspaced.

When her beautiful young niece, 24, fell in love with

The phone rang. Sandy picked it up.

“Is this Sandy Pereira?”

“Rich?” Sandy giggled. Rich was a guy she’d been with a couple of nights before.

“No. Is this Sandy Pereira?”

Suddenly Sandy recognized the voice. Her expression changed. “Yes,” she said. “This is Sandy Pereira.”

*   *   *

Rob had gone to a pay phone. He couldn’t have taken the risk of calling from the war room even if no one else were there. And his cell phone bill went to Dyson Whitney, so they would have a record of his calls. It was a long shot they would ever check them, and an even longer shot they’d identify the number he was calling, but it was possible.

He had also taken the precaution of walking a few blocks from the office. He didn’t know if that was overkill, but if anyone saw him using a pay phone, it was going to be pretty hard to explain what he was doing there. He felt as if he’d stepped into a walk-on role in a thriller.

The journalist sounded surprised to hear from him when she answered the phone.