Fatal Greed (8 page)

“Oops, sorry.” Jennifer had accidently knocked my arm as I walked toward my office. I dodged another coworker walking even faster.

People moved briskly throughout the building. It appeared the mood from the Christmas bash had carried over to Monday. I overheard conversations about the party, Christmas shopping, and plans for New Year’s Eve. Although there was no certainty the positive vibe would continue beyond lunch, it was a relief to see people with smiles on their faces. J&W might be selling us like cattle, leading to the employment slaughterhouse, but the company went all out for the holiday party.

Hopeful for a more normal week of work, absent of concussions, dead bodies, and police interviews, I focused on work, reviewing the updated project status reports. Everything looked in order. We were green on the summary report, which I’d developed with the help of one of my project managers last year.

I looked up from my computer monitor and spotted Reinaldo, who walked by with the collar of his jacket turned up. He and Mrs. Ireland met at his office door. After a brief conversation, he nodded then disappeared into his office.

With Reinaldo back at work—although he appeared haggard and less social—the office had an emerging resemblance to life before the PHC-acquisition announcement. The morning zipped by. I took my last bite of a turkey sandwich and strolled into Paula’s weekly staff meeting.

“Good Monday afternoon, everyone. Good to see we all survived the party over the weekend. I think it was a lovely event. Reinaldo, I’m glad we get to see your face this week. I hope you’re feeling better.” He only nodded. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in days.

Paula had a knack for not allowing distractions to take us off track. I doubt J&W knew Paula’s leadership was reason number one why many of us had remained at the company for so long. But as we progressed through our regular agenda, I became annoyed. I wasn’t convinced she’d address the most pressing topic. After breaking down our monthly P&L numbers and Jennifer discussing her one resource need for an uncomfortably long time, we finally moved into the round-table portion of the agenda.

I raised my hand as if we were in a school classroom. “I’ll go first.”

Paula nodded.

“Is there any new information on the PHC purchase of J&W?” I knew I shouldn’t come across too strong. I didn’t want to alienate Paula. “The longer this goes without good communication, the more likely our customers are to entertain our competitors.”

An office clerk waved through the window for Mrs. Ireland to leave the meeting.

“Michael, thanks for bringing this up. While I don’t have a lot of new information to share, I do know the goal is to close the deal prior to the end of the year, before Christmas if possible. And just so you know I’m not dropping the ball here, I’ve been communicating with J&W and
Turug
Patel about the same points you’re making. I hope to have more information in the near term. Realize we might need to work some during the holidays.”

I looked across our meeting table. My eyes stopped on Harrison, who had been more quiet than usual. It appeared his comments at the party were legitimate. He was no more in the loop than the rest of us.

The meeting concluded. A number of casual conversations broke out as we made our way out of the meeting room. Mrs. Ireland, red-faced, and mumbling something I couldn’t understand, walked up with two men. I tensed up, realizing they were the two detectives, Carl Pearson and Roger Smith.

“Reinaldo Silva?” Carl showed his badge directly to Reinaldo, but we could all see it reflecting the light.

“Yes, what do you want with me?” Reinaldo took a half-step back. I just noticed his left hand wrapped in a flesh-colored bandage.

“Sir, you are under arrest for the murder of Tiffany Chambers. Please turn around and put your hands together behind your back.” Carl read him his Miranda rights.

A growing number of people stared as if watching a car wreck, which wasn’t far from the truth. Reinaldo had been on a downward spiral for a while, and it appeared during the last week he was on an accelerated pace, missing work and acting strangely when we did see him.

My heart sank. I lowered my head as I heard the handcuffs lock around his wrists.

“Is it necessary to handcuff him?” Paula’s voice had a sharp edge.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to interrupt your business.” Carl took firm hold of
Reinaldo’s
arm.

Reinaldo no longer controlled his own movement. He and the detectives, flanked by a group of his friends and colleagues, including me, headed toward the front door. I heard people gasp, as early morning happiness turned to disbelief. I hoped somehow, before they left the building, the detectives would realize they had the wrong person and would release him.

“Reinaldo, do you have a lawyer?” I hollered, but he appeared to not hear me. “Reinaldo, Reinaldo, do you know any lawyers?” Reinaldo didn’t respond.

Finally, as the detectives guided him into the back seat of their unmarked car, he turned his head toward me. “Tell Karina I’m sorry.”

Chuck’s man on the ground provided his boss an update, all facts, no emotion. “This afternoon, a J&W employee, Reinaldo Silva, was arrested for the murder of the girl. Our revised plan is proceeding as designed, sir.”

Chuck
Hagard
, CEO of Omaha Gas, hadn’t anticipated a murder to interrupt the flow of the operation. The fact the girl was a casualty from her participation in this series of maneuvers troubled him. But for every action, he believed there should be a carefully conceived response.

“While it’s not optimal, we’ll take this break and move forward,” Chuck told his cleaner, only known as Tony. “I want you to be on your best behavior for our meeting this week. If we don’t win them over, they’re only going to dig deeper and want to dictate every move you make.”

“Yes sir. I understand.”

After hanging up, Chuck didn’t waste any time. Lacking faith in his brother David’s ability to pull off the board of directors’ all-day event and the side operation meeting, he called his younger sibling.

“Do you have all the details finalized at the club? I want to make sure when we bring the key players together, it’s in the right setting. The mixture of Tony with Victoria makes my stomach turn. Let’s make sure we stay factual. Get in and get out.”

“Hey, bro, take a breath. I have it all covered. I spoke with Victoria over the weekend, and I think I have her trust. We’re looking good.”

Chuck wasn’t amused with David’s flip response. But he knew David was a necessary evil. David had introduced him to Victoria, which, of course, was like being led into a lion’s den. Still, Chuck appreciated her devious, detail-oriented mind for concocting this plan.

David had proven to be valuable in his own way. His firm, DH Real Estate and Development, quietly purchased the building and associated mineral rights at 216 West Main—the current home of J&W Technology Services.

 
David was a dealmaker on every level. Nothing more, nothing less. Chuck knew people in the business world were divided into two types—salespeople and operations people. On a rare occasion those two traits overlapped, but David was pure and simply an ass-kissing, ego-stroking, spineless salesperson. And, he was good at it. But like all salespeople, David thought he was more important than he actually was, and his lack of operational understanding made him a liability in more detailed conversations. He had little appetite for details, which is why Chuck felt like he had to babysit his little brother.

“You’re in charge of organizing the full board event, not just this side meeting, so you need to make sure you meet with the club manager to review the entire set of plans,” Chuck said. “Everything from the moment the board members arrive to when they leave—food, flow of events, the whole agenda. We have a business to run here.”

Chuck had lobbied his fellow board members to have his brother elected to the board two years prior. The convincing argument being David’s company was vital in helping Omaha Gas purchase and sell property at the most opportune times, without drawing attention.

There was enough risk in the gas exploration business. Chuck worked diligently to bring efficiency into every division in Omaha Gas. His reputation had grown throughout the industry by moving away from rolling the dice and hoping they hit it big to a systematic approach. Do the research, then make sure you have a soundproof risk-mitigation plan in place. If and when events out of your control occur, re-plan. Success was still possible if people understood their roles and the process, and could respond with little emotion.

Chuck knew he needed to stay in Victoria’s good graces, but there were other key players in this operation, and they couldn’t be ignored. Then there was Tony. It was difficult not to feel ill at ease when dealing with Tony.

The Omaha Gas Board of Directors arrived one by one, each in black stretch limousines. Treated as if they were nominated for an Oscar, they walked the red carpet with a personal escort—young ladies for the nine men, and a young gentleman for the token woman. Their escorts would be at their beck and call throughout the daylong series of meetings, offering a respite from the tension that came with this type of business-driven event.

Chuck had been convinced by his younger brother that the escorts would pay future dividends. David had picked up the idea from his dealings with the state university, where, as a prominent booster, he paid for hard-bodied female escorts to convince kids from all backgrounds to attend THE University. He also knew certain loyal girls would provide extra services—beyond the campus and stadium tours and even beyond the escort to the private party held at the filthy-rich booster’s mansion. To seal the deal, it took a uniquely talented girl to ensure the prized recruit would commit to the school that weekend. For the athletes who might not commit even if their party girl had sex with them, the girls had a backup plan—they would take pictures to further convince the athlete, knowing most of them had girlfriends back home.

As chairman of the board, Chuck greeted each board member personally and introduced each to his or her escort. It was a bit seedy, but he could tell by the look on the faces of the board members, this might be the most entertaining perk of the business trip.

The last board member to arrive was also the most recent addition,
Turug
Patel. He’d instantly wielded the most influence, thanks to the twenty-percent stake he’d purchased in the gas exploration and drilling company. Chuck knew
Turug
loved money more than his own kids.
Turug
had admitted as much during a late-night drinking binge at one of the high-dollar steakhouses in the city.
Turug
had to leverage a portion of his ownership in PHC to provide the necessary capital for the stake in Omaha Gas.

For Chuck, giving up that much of the company he’d taken out of bankruptcy created a feeling of consternation. Through the next fourteen months, he imposed his will on every division of the company, weeding out employees who wouldn’t reform. He learned to look beyond the short-term weekly drilling report, believing the cash infusion and access to other properties would be a gold mine over the long haul. Over several quarters, OG turned into an industry juggernaut. The toughest part for him was trying to balance all of the expectations from his most vocal stakeholders, not all of who were board members.

The agenda for the morning included a quarterly assessment of the company’s financials, followed by a sales pipeline review. Both went off without a hitch.

As the group gathered for lunch on the second-floor balcony, Chuck and David watched the proceedings. Sue Dupree, Chuck’s lone female board member and the snobbish president of a swanky business school from the Northeast, took full advantage of her prized board benefit. Already enjoying her second Long Island Iced Tea, Sue clung to the young stud, rubbing her hands over his bulging biceps and across his mountainous chest, as if she were a bow-headed sophomore in college, dating the quarterback of the football team.

“
Gotta
hand it to you, David; you nailed this one.” Chuck put his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

“I think someone else might get nailed later,” David said.

Sue pinched her escort’s backside, and the two brothers turned to hide their laughter. They agreed to an extra cash incentive for the escort and would instruct him to fulfill her every desire. They’d also like a few colorful photos for their scrapbook—the ones that came out only if they needed a favor or a critical vote on an important issue.

Chuck finished off the board meeting with a sweeping evaluation of the entire company. The key theme to the message was growth and the new doors now open as a result of selling twenty percent of the company to their newest board member.

Behind the scenes, Chuck had also promised
Turug
to outsource the Omaha Gas systems development work to PHC, allowing OG to cut more costs. The board could stomach only so much change at once.

As the board members departed, Chuck watched from the balcony. Each held on to one notable souvenir, their new younger companions.

One board member remained.
Turug
made his way down to the patio overlooking the eighteenth green, joining David. Victoria, in Chuck’s mind the least controllable member of the contingent, rounded out the foursome. He had one more person to add to the tangent meeting, but Tony wasn’t to be visible until called upon.

Now the critical meeting could begin.