Bull Street (24 page)

“Is he there?” he said. Richard could hear Freida, Steinberg’s assistant talking to him through the receiver. A moment later he hung up, motioned toward the door.

Richard felt like he always did when he went to LeClaire with an issue: he got clear logic, unsentimental honesty. Same thing with Steinberg. And he’d never seen either of them lose their tempers. But Jack was a different story.

Richard heard a knock on Steinberg’s door and turned to see Jack walk in.
Uh-oh.
This could get ugly now.

Steinberg said, “Pull up a chair. You won’t find this boring.” Jack sat down. Steinberg said, “François and Richard were just briefing me on a visit Richard had with representatives of the SEC and the U.S. Attorney’s Office. They tried to sweat him into giving up an insider trading ring they say is centered here at Walker, and linked to Milner’s deals.”

“Must be a full moon,” Jack said.

“And it seems Richard and Kathy Cella stumbled on the same thing the SEC did a few months ago. Nicknamed the guy apparently directing the trades the mole.” Steinberg turned back to Richard, asking, “Why didn’t you come forward to anybody at the firm about this earlier?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that since I walked out of the U.S. Attorney’s Office. I guess I just screwed up.” Richard could now see Jack observing him, his face blank.
Is he gonna fire me? Serve me back to Holden
? Jack said, “How’s this linked to Milner?”

Richard said, “Trading in a bunch of his deals. Including Tentron.” Jack’s face was still expressionless.

Steinberg said, “I’m going to call Jim Lawson, the senior partner at Shearson & Stone, our law firm, and set up a meeting with their litigators as soon as possible. Hopefully tomorrow morning.” Richard felt his fists unclench. But he was still watching Jack.

LeClaire said, “The guy from the SEC was Roman Croonquist, Director of Enforcement. And he said Charles Holden,” looking back and forth between Jack and Steinberg, Jack’s eyebrows raising when he heard Holden’s name, “at the U.S. Attorney’s Office might drag Richard out in handcuffs. We should try and get that meeting with Shearson & Stone soon.”

Jack said to Richard, “Better check yourself into a hotel. And get a pair of those Groucho Marx disguise glasses with the moustache and big nose.” Jack grinned. Richard felt a whoosh of relief at hearing Jack joke about the situation.

Steinberg said, “Bring all the hard copies of the email messages, your laptop and anything else you’ve got. I’ll call you on your cell when I get the meeting.”

LeClaire and Richard got up to leave.

“Close the door behind you,” Jack said.

After Richard shut the door it took Jack a moment to realize how tense he was, having worked so hard to not show any reaction, and then even joke with the kid.

Flattened by a Mack truck they never saw coming.

His mouth had a funny taste in it. And then for some reason he was thinking of that squishy sound his wet galoshes made on the tiles in the entry hall of the apartment building where he grew up in Canarsie. His galoshes wet from the snow after a street fight. He liked to fight in winter; most of the guys were bigger and stronger, but in the snow they slipped and went down easy. That way he could step onto them and break their spirits while he busted up their faces, blood flying around until they yelled, “I give.” He realized the taste in his mouth was like after one of those fights; blood mixed with puke. Right now he felt like hitting someone.

“How much you think he knows?” Jack said.

“You heard almost as much as I did. I’d say plenty.”

“Enough?”

“Enough. Except maybe who’s actually involved. Emails documenting trades going back four years, including emails distributing trades out from Paris to all over Europe, the Far East, firms in the U.S. Including on Milner’s deals.”

Jeez.
Jack had put his blood and guts into Walker, building it up over all these years, now maybe waking up to find it worthless because of these markets. But now he could see it all go down the tubes in an insider trading scandal. And getting his investment
in Walker wiped out maybe not the worst of it. He felt itchy, like he needed to get up and walk around.

Jack said, “We gotta get this thing under wraps. If we don’t we could lose it all. It was bad enough with this financial mess. Now we’re looking at jail on top of going bust.”

Mickey was blinking at one of his screens, thinking. After a moment he said, “We’ll just have to see how it develops. It sounds like the Feds have a lot of what Richard does.”

“After twenty-five years if I get my Walker stake wiped out I’ll shoot myself. Anybody tries to stand in my way of protecting against that, I’ll shoot
him.
”

Mickey just looked at him.

“What?” Jack said.

“If the Feds move on us it’ll be soon. I can’t see having time to outrun them.”

Jack said, “Well, in the absence of any other brilliant ideas, I say we go balls-to-the-wall to bottle this up before it kills us.”

Mickey said, “I don’t have any other brilliant ideas.”

That was a new one: Mickey coming up blank. One of them better think of something quick.

Milner sat in the one of the client suites at the UBS private banking office at Park Avenue and 48
^th
Street. He’d finished filling out the paperwork for the wire transfer five minutes earlier, and given it to the assistant to Rolf Kulling, his private banker. Now, staring at polished mahogany walls and smelling oiled leather, he waited for Kulling to get off the phone. A minute later Kulling sidled in with that insinuating manner all private bankers seemed to have.

“Harold, always a pleasure.” They shook hands.

“She give you the paperwork?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great. You need anything else from me?”

“No, sir.”

“How long you think it will take?”

“One to two weeks. It’s hard to say.”

Milner felt a burst of surprise.
What?
“One to two weeks? What’s the problem?”

“I’m sorry, Harold, but $250 million is an unusually large wire transfer. Ever since September 11
^th
, Homeland Security scrutinizes any wire transfers it deems appropriate, particularly those going offshore. That usually means anything over $10,000.”

Milner was nodding he understood, but he still couldn’t quite believe it.

Kulling said, “We’ll do the best we can.”

This sure changed things. Well, he’d have to deal with it. Fake it for a little longer, hang around until he could pack up Mary Claire and get the hell out of here.

It was Jack who called Richard about the meeting at Shearson & Stone. Jack told Richard, “Your first lawyer is like your first lover. You never forget. Particularly if you’re scared. Wait’ll you get a load of Toto.”

Karen “Toto” Blanc was Shearson & Stone’s head litigator. A rival litigator once yielded to her, saying she was “too tough.” It stuck. It didn’t take long for Jack to abbreviate it to Toto. But even Jack didn’t have the nerve to call her that to her face.

Richard had spent the night hiding out at the Carlyle. He arrived at Toto’s office on the 7
^th
floor at 599 Lexington Avenue,
across from the Citigroup Building, at 8:00 a.m. the next morning.
So far, so good.
He wasn’t in handcuffs.

About 8:10, a leggy brunette walked out of her office and extended her hand. “Karen Blanc,” she said. Richard could see her observing him when they shook hands. She was tall for a woman; he guessed about 5’10”. Slim, with prominent features that all seemed too big for her face, but somehow managed to fit together.
Striking.
She wore a stylish wrap dress instead of one of those goofy business suits with the dress shirt and little bow tie that a lot of woman lawyers wore.

“Come in,” she said, still observing Richard. She went to her credenza and started fixing a cup of coffee. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, bottled water?…OJ?” Asking him, but all business.
Not exactly cordial.

“Black coffee would be great.”

She fixed it for him. “Nervous?” she asked.

“You might say I’m at a high state of attention.”

“Doesn’t sound all bad.” She pointed to a chair next to her coffee table. “Have a seat.” She sat down across from him on the sofa.
Blunt.
Guiding him around.

“I hear you had an interesting day yesterday.”

“You could say that.”

“Well, just in case you have any concerns about it, they can’t use anything that you said if they didn’t advise you of your rights to have counsel present for an interview.”

“They didn’t give me any advice. They didn’t even tell me what the interview was about. They ambushed me.”

“They tried to bluff you, scare you into folding. Mickey briefed me. Sounds like you did fine. I’m going to ask you to tell me the whole story again in a few minutes. Don’t worry.” Her manner was firm and confident.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I believe you,” she said. “Sounds like somebody has, though, and we’ll need to do what we can to get to the bottom of that. But the most important thing is, if you haven’t done anything, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” She smiled for the first time. “Well, young Mr. Blum, now let’s get started.”

She took the better part of an hour directing Richard through his entire history and understanding of the mole situation, from the initial email he discovered to the meeting with Croonquist and Holden the day before. She interrupted constantly to take him back through various points, getting clarifications, making notes, referring back to them. If this was a friendly attorney-client interview, Richard decided he wouldn’t want her cross-examining him. Richard was starting to understand what Jack meant. With Toto he felt like a teenage farm boy learning things from an experienced older woman. She was in command, showing him how it worked.

“Where are your computer and the printouts?”

Richard patted his briefcase.

“Cybil, are you there?” she called through the open doorway. A woman, apparently her assistant, called back, “Yes.”

“Get me Martin Springs right away, please.” She turned back to Richard. “Are these the only copies?”

“No.” He saw her squinting, like sighting him in.