The Underwriting (39 page)

They sipped their coffees in silence for a moment, looking down at the empty room. His heart was beating fast, and he wasn't sure why.

“I love this time of day,” she finally said.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't.

“It just feels so untarnished, doesn't it? Like anything is possible? And it's all in your hands for this one fleeting moment before everyone else wakes up and makes their mark.”

“I've never known how to feel about the stars,” he said, gesturing up to the building's painted ceiling.

“You don't like them?”

“I don't know whether they're nice or it's sad that someone had to pay an artist to paint stars on a ceiling in order for New Yorkers to see them.”

Tara studied the ceiling through her glasses, giving it thought. “How did you know about me?” she finally asked.

“Kelly wrote about you in her journal,” he said.

Tara's lips parted in surprise. “What did she say?”

“She wanted to be like you,” he said, then turned his eyes away from her and added, “I don't know why.” It was mean and he knew it, but it felt good to have someone to be angry with.

“You don't like me,” she observed.

“Working on Wall Street would have been a waste of Kelly's talent,” he said. “Anyone who really cared about her could see that.”

Tara sipped her coffee but didn't respond.

“I have something to tell you,” she finally said. “About Kelly.”

He inhaled sharply. “Okay.”

“She was logged into Hook when she died,” Tara said.

“Hook the dating app?”

She nodded. “They have a database that stores information about users—where they've been, who they've been with, all their ratings. It stores all the history, from the time an account is created.”

Charlie felt his throat constrict, not ready to see his sister as the kind of girl who hooked up with guys she met on an app.

“One of the programmers looked up Kelly after the news came out and found out she was logged in when she died, and that there was another user with her.”

Charlie was silent.

“And apparently Kelly had never matched that user, so this engineer looked further into it, and found out that user hacked into the app's servers to find out where Kelly was that night.”

Charlie felt his blood drain. “Was it Robby?” he asked carefully.

Tara shook her head. “No,” she said. “I think Robby's innocent.”

“Then who was it?” he asked softly, looking at his hands.

“I don't know.”

“You must be able to find out.”

“The programmer who found it—his name is Juan—could, I think, but he was fired.”

“For finding this?”

“I think so,” she said.

“You think Hook is trying to hide it?”

“It could ruin the company, if it came out.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I was on the team that underwrote the IPO,” she said. “Hook goes public in four hours.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you're the one who should get to decide what to do,” she said, turning her head toward him, her eyes peering into his.

Charlie could feel his chest rise and fall, looking into her eyes as if they held the key to what all of this meant. “What will you do?” he asked her.

“Whatever you ask me to,” she said.

“This would ruin your deal,” he said. “And probably get you fired.”

“Yes.”

“What if I tell you I want to do nothing,” he tested her. “And just let Robby go to jail?”

“You won't do that,” she said.

“How do you know?”

“I read your writing. You care too much about the truth.”

Something slammed into Charlie's arm and a man in a suit paused two steps down, looking back up at the pair, whom he'd tripped over as he read his BlackBerry while descending the stairs. “Get the fuck off the staircase!” he yelled.

Charlie turned back to Tara. “Will you come somewhere with me?”

She nodded.

She hailed a taxi while he called Johnny Walker, who met them at the
New York Times
building. They sat in his new corner office as the sun began to rise and Tara recounted everything she knew.

Johnny took a deep breath. “Jesus Christ,” he said, looking up at the both of them. “You're sure you want to do this?”

Charlie nodded.

“I gotta get writing,” he said.

Charlie stood, but Tara hesitated. “One more thing.”

Johnny turned. “What is it?”

“Do you have recording equipment?” she asked. “I mean, to record a telephone call?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Can we use it?”

Johnny left the room and came back with a recorder, plugging it into her iPhone. Tara sat up straight in her seat and dialed a number, placing the phone on speaker as it started to ring.

A chipper man's voice answered. “Good morning, Tara! Everybody ready for the big day?”

She looked at Charlie as if for courage, then closed her eyes, directing a forcibly upbeat voice to the device. “We sure are, Nick. I trust you had a good flight in?”

“It was fine,” the voice said, “though my NetJets account is still being approved so I had to fly commercial one last time.”

“That's a bummer,” Tara said. “But over soon enough.”

“Indeed.”

“Listen, Nick, I just had one quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“You erased the database, right? The one that had that information about Kelly Jacobson and the user who was with her the night she died?”

Nick hesitated on the other end and Tara pressed her eyes tight, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

“I told you, Tara, I can be trusted to use that information properly, but there is no need to get rid of it right now.”

Tara's lips spread into a relieved smile. “Of course, Nick.” She nodded. “I just wanted to double-check.”

“And Tara?”

“Yes, Nick?”

“If you say one word about what you think you know about any of this I will get you fired so fast you won't know what hit you.”

“That won't be necessary, Nick.”

“Good.” His voice relaxed. “See you in a few hours.”

Tara hung up the phone, and Johnny grinned broadly, looking at Charlie, then back at Tara, who was looking at her hands, tapping her fingers on the table as if to collect herself.

At last she looked up, laughing, as tears started to form in her eyes and she wiped them away. “Just wanted to make sure he didn't get away with it.”

TODD

T
HURSDAY
, M
AY
15; N
EW
Y
ORK
, N
EW
Y
ORK

Todd sipped his coffee and watched Nick attempt to flirt with the NASDAQ event coordinator who was giving him instructions. He couldn't wait to never see Nick Winthrop again.

Todd had been at the office until four a.m., then gone home to sleep for an hour and shower in time to be in Times Square at seven to meet Nick and support him when he rang the NASDAQ opening bell.

He looked around for Tara but she was nowhere to be seen. When his e-mail to her bounced back, he checked to make sure he'd typed the right address, then called her. When she didn't answer, he texted.

She'd still been at the office when he left this morning. She'd said she had one more thing to do after they'd finished the calls to confirm the orders for Hook's thirty-four-dollar-a-pop shares.

They'd managed to sell all but eighty million dollars' worth, thanks to L.Cecil's private bank, which took a one-hundred-million-dollar chunk to dole out to their “new money” clients in Asia, who were so eager to get in on Silicon Valley deals they'd probably have paid even more. The book was still full of low-quality investors, though, and Todd had left the office bracing for a day of sell-offs and a commensurate drop in share price that took L.Cecil's eighty-million-dollar Hook holding into the red.

But spring was in full force outside and Todd's hope had been steadily rebounding since he'd gotten out of bed. It was possible that the price would go up, and that the eighty million would turn into a profit, not a loss, and make him a hero with foresight, not a failed banker who couldn't manage his client. It was his last hope, but in the morning sunshine it didn't seem entirely impossible.

He checked his phone. Where was Tara? He'd realized that what he'd said at the airport was true: he did want to have drinks with her after the deal, because he was genuinely going to miss seeing her all the time. Unlike everyone else, she had never been using him. She might only be a seven, but she was real.

His phone rang and Todd picked it up. “Where are you?” he asked, assuming it was her.

“Get to my office, now.” The voice on the phone was Harvey's, not Tara's, and it was angry.

Harvey hung up and Todd put the phone away. “Fuck you,” he said out loud. Whatever he had to say could wait.

But when he called again and Tara still didn't pick up, Todd realized that whatever Harvey wanted him to come to the office for might be related to her.

“Nick, I'm just going to pop back to the office for two seconds,” he said, trying to hide his rising concern. “I'll be back in time.”

“It's cool.” Nick grinned broadly. “Christy and I have got this, don't we, Christy?” he said to the event coordinator, who forced a smile as she affixed a microphone onto Nick's lapel.

Todd felt his heartbeat escalate as he sat in the cab, cursing the traffic. They hadn't made a mistake in their work last night, had they?

“Can you please go?” Todd snapped as the driver slammed on the brakes again.

“What you want me to do?” the driver said, pointing at a delivery truck backing into the street at a glacial pace.

“Fuck it, I'll walk,” Todd said, throwing a ten-dollar bill at the driver.

—

H
E
WAITED
FOR
THE
ELEVATOR
, ignoring all the people who congratulated him on his big day, punching the button again and again as if it would help.

“What'd you do to Tara?” Lillian Dumas smirked as she strolled up, standing beside him and watching the floor numbers above the elevator tick by.

“What are you talking about, Lillian?” Todd said, exasperated. He didn't have time for Lillian's bullshit.

“Do you not know? She quit.”

“What?” Todd's jaw dropped as the elevator doors opened.

“Yo! Todd! Good luck today, man.” Someone punched his arm, but Todd ignored him, his gaze set on Lillian. “Tara quit?”

Lillian stepped onto the elevator and Todd followed. “She sent an e-mail to the team this morning, thanking us for the pleasure of working together. You didn't get it?” Lillian asked smugly. “I guess she didn't have as good of a time working with you.”

“Did she get an offer somewhere else?” Todd asked, not caring that his face revealed his shock.

“No.” Lillian shook her head. “Her e-mail said she was taking time to figure things out.”

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out, fluttering her fingers in a wave. “Have a good day, Todd!” What a bitch.

Had Tara seriously quit? Why? And why hadn't she e-mailed him or talked to him about it? Weren't they friends? And what was she doing if she wasn't going to a competitor?

He got to the forty-second floor and caught the silhouette of a pretty blonde girl standing at the window of one of the conference rooms next to Harvey's office. He wished he were meeting with her.

“You can go on in,” Harvey's assistant told Todd, looking nervous for him.

The senior vice chairman stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking out the window.

“Would you like to tell me what you've done?” he asked when he heard Todd enter, not bothering to turn around.

Todd shut the door behind him. “We closed the book last night,” he said cautiously. “We were able to sell all but eighty million, which I think is pretty good given the circumstances. I've been over at NASDAQ with—”

“When was the last time you spoke to Rich Baker?” Harvey asked, his back still toward Todd.

Todd's stomach dropped. “Why?” he asked, careful.

“And Rachel Liu?” Harvey asked, finally turning around. “When was the last time you spoke with her?”

“Is something the matter?” Todd asked.

Harvey pounded his fist on the table. “Yes, something is the fucking matter,” he said, his voice losing control. “You asked a research analyst to write a favorable report and then paid out of pocket for a PR firm to bribe CNBC to run a story about it.”

“Who told you that?” Todd's defenses shot up. He wasn't admitting to anything.

“You did, Todd,” Harvey said. “I just saw a video of the whole thing, which was conveniently recorded by a Crowley Brown paralegal at the pool of the Rosewood Hotel after your meeting there. Luckily, she's decided not to go public with the information which, I'm sure you know, would ruin the deal and this firm.”

“What? How?” he asked, trying to piece it together as the room started to spin. “Who?”

“She's here.” Harvey tilted his head to the conference room. “Shall we go talk to her?”

Todd's legs were uneasy as he followed Harvey to the conference room where the blonde woman turned from the window. She looked familiar.

“Mr. Kent,” Harvey said. “This is Miss Pfeffer.”

Pfeffer? Did Todd know anyone named Pfeffer?

She reached out her hand and smiled. “Amanda,” she said. “We've met a few times before, I believe.”

Todd studied her face, stripping away the neatly done hair and fitted suit and professional smirk until he saw the girl he'd . . .

Holy shit.

NICK

T
HURSDAY
, M
AY
15; N
EW
Y
ORK
, N
EW
Y
ORK

Nick sat with his hot assistant, Tiffany, at a table by the window in the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental.

“A bottle of champagne, please,” he asked the waiter. “Your finest.”

“I personally would recommend the 1995 Salon Grand Cru.” The waiter pointed to the menu.

“Sounds excellent,” Nick said, not even flinching at the twenty-five hundred price tag. At thirty-four dollars a share, he was worth $111 million, not a measly $85. Any figure that was in the single thousands was practically pocket change.

Of course, he couldn't sell any of his shares until the lockup expired six months from now, but by then the price would be even higher, boosted by his strategic leadership.

Nick smiled out the window at the sweeping view of Central Park. He'd turned down several interviews following the opening bell on the NASDAQ, which he'd rung this morning when the markets opened. Everything would still take an hour or two to settle and for the share to start actively trading, and rather than have the cameras watching his reaction, he'd decided to come here, with Tiffany, to celebrate. There would be plenty of interviews in the coming weeks and months and years, but how often did a man get to experience his first IPO, with a bottle of champagne and a beautiful woman, looking out over Central Park from one of the most luxurious hotels in the world?

The waiter returned and popped the champagne, and Nick toasted Tiffany, who smiled sweetly. He hadn't asked whether she'd broken up with her boyfriend yet, but he wasn't concerned. No woman could resist what he now had to offer.

He sipped the champagne and looked at his iPad, which streamed a Notorious B.I.G. playlist into his headphones while he toggled between Yahoo Finance and CNBC, reading for news about himself.

He felt Tiffany's hand on his arm and looked up. She'd put down her champagne and her face was concerned.

Nick took out one of his earbuds. “What?”

“Nick, you need to look at this,” she said.

“Just a second.” He held up a finger while he refreshed Yahoo Finance. Nothing new yet.

“Nick,” she insisted.

“What is it?” he said, annoyed.

“The
New York Times
.” She handed him her iPad.

“Who reads the
New York Times
?” he said as he took the device from her. Everything that mattered was on TechCrunch and Forbes.

Nick read the headline:

SECURITY BREACH AT HOOK LINKED TO JACOBSON MURDER CASE

He felt his heart stop.

The Times has learned that Hook, the location-based dating app company scheduled to go public this morning, had a security breach last March, when an unidentified user hacked into the app's system to locate Kelly Jacobson the night of her murder. While the user has not been identified, the source confirmed the user was with Kelly in the hours leading up to her death, and that it was an account linked to someone other than Robby Goodman, the Stanford senior who stands accused of her murder. The same source revealed that the company stores information in a way that makes users' histories identifiable, in contrast to statements made by—

Nick's phone rang in his pocket. He felt sweat burst from his pores when he saw the number.

“Phil,” he said into the phone, trying to sound casual.

“What's going on, Nick?”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked, deciding to feign ignorance until he had all the facts.

“Why, with all that education of yours, did you not think it prudent to tell me someone had hacked into our systems?” Phil's voice was not friendly. “And then have the nerve to let me stand before all my peers and vouch for our security?”

“I didn't think—”

“Please tell me you deleted the database,” Phil said, “per the agreement we made wherein I installed you as CEO, and that this reporter in the
New York Times
is mistaken.”

Nick's face drained.

“Juan was supposed to do it,” Nick said. “I'll call the team right now and have them make sure—”

“Federal investigators are already at the office, Nick. They're at my office, too, collecting files and making sure no one touches anything.”

“They can't do that.” Nick shook his head.

“They can do whatever they damn well please,” Phil snapped. “Call L.Cecil and have them stop the IPO immediately. We have to take back all the shares until we figure this out. And I swear to God, Nick, if the information from that database gets leaked, I'll see to it that you never work again as long as I live.”

The phone clicked off.

Nick's heart was pounding so fast he couldn't breathe.

“What's going on?” Tiffany asked, but she was far away, shrouded in glass.

“Water,” he said, reaching a hand out to the waiter, then trying to stand, collapsing back into the chair.

“Here.” Tiffany passed him a glass of champagne. “Drink this.”

“I can't drink that!” he shouted at her. Was she stupid? “We can't afford that!”

The other guests started to turn and stare, but he couldn't see them.

“Tara!” he shouted. “Call Tara now!”

The girl took her phone out and dialed the number carefully. “She's not picking up,” Tiffany reported. “Let me try your phone.” She reached across to his phone while he sat, gripping the chair, willing his heart to slow.

“She isn't there.” Tiffany shook her head. “I'll try Todd.” She dialed the number, but to the same effect.