Total Control (16 page)

"How exactly do you adjust rates?"

"There are actually two interest rates that are directly affected by the Fed, Lee. The Federal Funds Rate is the interest rate banks charge other banks who borrow funds to meet reserve requirements.

If that rate goes up or down, interest rates on bank CDs, T-bills, mortgages and commercial paper will soon follow. The Fed sets the target Federal Funds Rate at the FOME meetings. Then the New York Federal Reserve Bank, through its Domestic Trading Desk, buys or sells government securities, which in turn restricts or expands the supply of money available to banks to ensure that that interest rate is maintained. We call that adding or subtracting liquidity. That's how Arthur took the bulls by the horns when he became chairman; by adjusting the Fed Funds Rate in ways the market didn't anticipate. The second interest rate which can be affected by the Fed is the Discount Rate, the rate charged by the Fed to banks for loans by the Fed. However, the Discount Rate is tied to loans for what amounts to emergency purposes; thus, it's known as the 'window of last resort." Banks who frequent that window too often will come under increased regulatory scrutiny, since it's seen as a sign of weakness in banking circles. For that reason, most banks will borrow money from other banks at the slightly higher Federal Funds Rate, since there is no stigma attached to that channel of credit."

Sawyer decided to change direction. "Okay, had Lieberman been acting strangely? Anything bothering him? Any threats that you know of?"

Burns shook his head.

"This trip to L.A. that Lieberman was taking, was it a regular thing?"

"Very regular. Arthur was meeting with Charles Tiedman, president of the San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank. Arthur was very good about making the rounds of the presidents, and he and Charles were old friends."

"Wait a minute. If Tiedman is head of the San Francisco bank, why was Lieberman flying into L.A.?"

"There is a branch office of the Fed there. Also, Charles and his wife live in Los Angeles and Arthur would stay with them."

"But he would've just seen Tiedman at the November fifteenth meeting."

"That's right. But Arthur's trip to L.A. was planned well in advance.

It was only a coincidence that it occurred shortly after the FOME meeting. However, I do know he was anxious to talk to Charles."

"Do you know what about?"

Burns shook his head. "You'd have to ask Charles."

"Anything else that might help me?"

Burns considered the question briefly and then shook his head again. "I can't think of anything in Arthur's personal background that would have led to this abomination."

Sawyer rose and shook Burns's hand. "I appreciate the information, Waiter."

When Sawyer turned to leave, Burns gripped his shoulder.

"Agent Sawyer, the information we have at the Fed is so enormously valuable that the slightest slip could reap incredible profits for undeserving individuals. I guess I've become extremely tight-lipped over the years to prevent just such an occurrence."

"I understand."

Burns put a flabby hand on the door as Sawyer buttoned up his coat. "So, do you have any suspects yet?"

The agent turned back to Burns. "Sorry, Walter, we have secrets at the FBI too."

Henry Wharton sat behind his desk, nervously tapping his foot on the carpeted floor. The managing partner of Tyler, Stone was small in stature but large in legal ability. Partially bald with a trim gray mustache, he looked every bit the senior partner in a major law firm. After thirty-five years of representing the elite of American business, Wharton was not easily intimidated. However, if anyone came close, it was the man currently seated across from him.

"So that's all she told you? That she was unaware her husband was on the plane at all?" Wharton asked.

Nathan Gamble's eyes were half closed as he looked down at his hands. He now looked up at Wharton. The movement made the attorney jerk slightly.

"That's all I asked her."

Wharton shook his head sadly. "Oh, I see. Well, I know when I spoke with her she was devastated. Poor thing. Such a shock, right out of the blue like that. And--"

Wharton broke off speaking as Gamble stood up and went over to the window behind the lawyer's desk. He studied the Washington landscape in the late morning sunlight. "It occurred to me, Henry, that further questioning might better come from you."

Gamble put one big hand on Wharton's narrow shoulder and gently squeezed.

Wharton quickly nodded. "Yes, yes, I can understand your thinking on that point."

Gamble strolled over to peruse numerous diplomas from prestigious universities neatly lining one wall of Wharton's expansive quarters. "Very impressive. I never finished high school. I don't know if you knew that or not." He looked over his shoulder at the lawyer.

"I didn't," Wharton said quietly.

"I guess I did okay for a dropout." Gamble shrugged his thick shoulders.

"Quite the understatement. Your success is unparalleled," Wharton said quickly.

"Hell, I started with nothing, probably end up that way."

"I hardly think that."

Gamble took a moment to straighten one of the diplomas. He turned back to Wharton. "Getting to particulars, it was obvious to me that Sidney Archer knew her husband was on that plane."

Wharton started. "You're saying you think she lied to you? No disrespect, Nathan, but I can't believe that."

Gamble returned to his chair. Wharton was about to speak again, but Gamble fixed the lawyer with a gaze that froze him. Gamble resumed speaking. "Jason Archer was working on a major project for me. Organizing all of Triton's financial records for the CyberCom deal. Guy's a friggin' computer genius. He had access to everything.

Everything!" Gamble slowly pointed a finger across the desk. Wharton nervously rubbed his hands together but kept silent. "Now, Henry, you know that CyberCom is a deal I have to have--at least everyone keeps telling me that."

"Absolutely brilliant matt," Wharton ventured.

"Something like that." Gamble pulled out a cigar and took a minute to light up. He blew smoke in Wharton's general direction.

"Anyway, on the one hand I've got Jason Archer privy to all my stuff, and on the other I've got Sidney Archer heading up my deal team. You following me?"

Wharton's brow collapsed in puzzlement. "I'm afraid, no, I'm--"

"There are other companies out there who want CyberCom as badly as I do. They'd pay a lot of money to get their hands on my deal terms. Then they'd come in and screw me. I don't like to get fucked, at least not that way. You understand?"

"Yes, certainly, Nathan. But how--"

"And you also know that one of the companies who'd like to get their hands on CyberCom is RTG."

"Nathan, if you're suggesting--"

"Your firm also represents RTG."

"Nathan, you know we've taken care of that. This firm is not rep resenting RTG on their bid for CyberCom in any way, shape or form."

"Philip Goldman's still a partner here, isn't he? And he's still RTG's top gun, isn't he?"

"Of course. We couldn't exactly ask him to leave. It was merely a client conflict and one that has been more than adequately compensated for. Philip Goldman is not working with RTG on its bid for CyberCom."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," Wharton said quickly.

Gamble smoothed down the front of his shirt. "Are you having Goldman followed twenty-four hours a day, his phone lines tapped, his mail read, his business associates shadowed?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then you can hardly be positive he's not working for RTG and against me, can you?"

"I have his word," Wharton said curtly. "And we have certain controls in place."

Gamble played with an elegantly shaped ring on one of his fingers.

"Much the same, you can't know what your other partners are really up to, including Sidney Archer, can you?"

"She has the highest integrity of anyone I've ever met, not to mention one of the sharpest minds." Wharton was bristling now.

"And yet she's completely ignorant of her own husband climbing on a plane to Los Angeles, where RTG happens to have its U.S.

headquarters. That's quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

"You can't blame her husband's actions on Sidney."

Gamble took the cigar out of his mouth and deliberately removed a bit of fuzz from his suit coat. "What are the Triton billings up to per year now, Henry? Twenty million? Forty million? I can get the exact number when I get back to the office. It's in that ballpark, wouldn't you say?" Gamble stood up. "Now, you and I go back a few years. You know my style. Somebody thinks they got the best of me, they're wrong. It may take me some time, but the knife comes back at you and cuts twice as deep as the hit I took." Gamble put the cigar on Wharton's desk, placed his hands palm down on the leather surface and leaned forward so that he was barely a foot from Wharton's face. "If I lose CyberCom because my own people sold me out, when I come back at the persons responsible it'll be like the big old Mississippi flooding its banks. A whole lot of potential victims out there, most of them entirely blameless, only I'm not going to take the time to sort them out. Do you understand me?" Gamble's tone was low and calm and yet it slammed into Wharton like a giant fist.

Wharton swallowed hard as he stared into the intense brown eyes of the Triton chief. "I believe I do, yes."

Gamble put on his overcoat and picked up his cigar stub. "Have a good day, Henry. When you talk to Sidney, tell her I said hello."

It was one o'clock in the afternoon when Sidney pulled the Ford out of the parking lot of the Boar's Head and quickly made her way back toward Route 29. She drove past the old Memorial Gymnasium where she had once grunted and sweated and hit tennis balls in between the rigors of law school. She pulled her car into a parking garage at the Corner, a favorite hangout of the college crowd, with its numerous bookstores, restaurants and bars.

She slipped into one of the cafes and purchased a cup of coffee and a copy of the day's Washington Post. She sat down at one of the small wooden tables and looked over the paper's headlines. She almost fell our of her chair.

The type was bold, thick and marched across the page with the urgency its contents deserved. FEDERAL RESERVE BOARD CHAIRMAN

ARTHUR Lieberman KILLED IN AIRPLANE CRASH. Next to the headline was a photo of Lieberman. Sidney was struck by the man's penetrating eyes.

Sidney quickly read the story. Lieberman had been a passenger on Flight 3223. He took regular monthly trips to Los Angeles to meet with the San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank president, Charles Tiedman, and the in-fated Western Airlines flight had been one of those regular excursions. Sixty-two years old, and divorced, Lieberman had headed the Federal Reserve for the last four years. The article devoted a great deal of space to Lieberman's illustrious financial career and the respect he commanded across the globe. Indeed, the official news of his death had not been reported until now, because the government was doing its best to prevent a panic in the financial community. Despite those efforts, the financial markets all over the world had begun to suffer. The story ended with a notice of a memorial service for Lieberman the following Sunday in Washing ton.

There was an additional story about the plane accident farther back in the front section. There were no new developments, only that the NTSB was still investigating. It could be over a year before the world knew why Flight 3223 had ended up in a farmer's plowed-under cornfield instead of on the tarmac at LAX. Weather, mechanical failure, sabotage and everything in between was being considered, but for now it was all just speculation.

Sidney finished her coffee, discarded the newspaper and pulled her portable phone out of her bag. She dialed her parents' house and spoke for some time to her daughter, coaxing a few words out of Amy; her daughter was still shy on the phone. Then Sidney spent a few minutes talking with her mother and father. She next called her answering machine. There were numerous messages, but one that plainly stood out from the rest: Henry Wharton. Tyler, Stone had generously allowed her all the time off she needed to deal with this personal catastrophe. Sidney was convinced that the rest of her life would not be long enough. Henry had sounded worried, nervous even. She knew what that meant: Nathan Gamble had paid him a visit.

She quickly dialed the familiar number and was put through to Wharton's office. She tried her best to steady her nerves while she waited for him to pick up. Wharton could be a holy terror or awe-inspiring mentor, depending on whether you were in favor or not.

He had always been one of Sidney's biggest supporters. But now?

She took a deep breath when he came on the line.

"Hello, Henry."

"Sid, how are you holding up?"

'Tm still numb, to tell you the truth."

"Maybe that's best. For now. You'll get through this. It might not seem like it, but you will. You're strong."

"Thanks for the support, Henry. I do feel bad for leaving you in the lurch. What with CyberCom and all."

"I know, Sidney. Don't worry about that."

"Who's taking the lead on it?" She wanted to avoid diving right into the Gamble issue.

Wharton didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was lower. "Sid, what do you think of Paul Brophy?"

The question caught her by surprise, but it brought some welcome relief. Perhaps she had been wrong about Gamble talking to Wharton. "I like Paul, Henry."

"Yes, yes, I know that. He's a pleasant enough fellow, talented rainmaker, talks a good game."

Sidney spoke slowly. "You want to. know whether he can head the CyberCom deal?"

"As you know, he's been involved up until now. But it's stepped up to another level. I want to keep the circle of attorneys with access as limited as possible. You know why. It's no secret about our potential problem with Goldman and his representation of RTG. I don't want even the hint of an impropriety. I also only want guns on that team that can contribute real substance to the process. I'd like your opinion on him under those circumstances."