Monahan 01 Options (12 page)

“Now explain to me levels of access,” Grace demanded. “Who exactly has access to the different systems?”

“Select people are identified as users and depending on their job descriptions or responsibilities, they have access to different levels. For the stock option system, there are three people who are users. That means those three are the only ones who can input information, change information and gather reports,” Ray said.

“And the three users are? You mentioned Rick Cox and Ev. Who’s the third?” Grace asked.

“Jay Harmon.”

“Jay. Oh yeah. He’s one of the management trainees. He’s working for Cox now, isn’t he?” Grace looked over at me for confirmation. At least she knew I was still sitting there. I nodded rather than answer out loud. Better not to break her concentration.

“Show me some instances of Jay’s usage of the system,” she said to Ray.

He pointed to the first entry on the top page. “Here,” he said. “Jay was the last person to log into the stock option system. See,” he ran his finger across the page, “that’s his user i.d., this shows the date and time he was on the system, this number here shows he generated a report. I don’t know what the report was, I’ll have to check.”

“God. This is like learning a new language,” Grace laughed. “What’s this t.i.d.?”

“Terminal identification. That shows which computer the user was logged on to,” Ray said.

Grace was now really intent on the information. She was a quick study and was flipping the pages. Ray backed up and sat on the credenza behind Ev’s desk. We were both quiet while Grace did her reading. I glanced at some of the pages as they flipped by and all I could see was a jumble of letters and numbers. She turned back to the first page of the document and ran her finger down the page.

“There. That’s the entry. Right?” she said.

Ray slid off the credenza and looked over her shoulder.

“Yup,” was all he said.

“Translate for me,” she demanded.

“User i.d. is Rick Cox’s. He logged on at eight-nineteen p.m. He was on the system for about three minutes. This number indicates he was in the stock option system. The number beside it indicates what part, or sub-menu of the stock option system, but I’ll have to check what that is. And the terminal i.d. says he was logged on to this computer. Ev’s.” He rattled off the information like he was reading a Dr. Seuss rhyme.

“Okay. And the two entries above it are Jay Harmon’s?” Grace asked.

“Right. Both entries are almost identical. User i.d. is Jay Harmon’s. Date and time. Stock option system. I’ll have to check what part of the system. And the terminal i.d. is his own computer,” Ray fired off.

“How do you know all the terminal i.d.‘s?” Grace asked.

“I know all the terminal i.d.‘s and all the user i.d.‘s. Can’t remember a phone number but I know all my users.” Ray grinned.

“One last question Ray. How many people know that you can access this information? Do the users know that their usage is tracked and records are kept?”

Ray looked at me. “The technical types in this company would certainly know. They design these systems. The users though, I don’t know. Kate, were you aware of this?” he asked me.

“Hell no. I suppose if I thought about it, it makes sense. But I just use the system. I don’t know how it works.”

Ray said to Grace, “And that’s probably typical of everyone except the techies. People love having computers and using them but don’t understand the guts of them.”

“Well thank you for the lesson. I’ll keep these records,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything else right now. Ray, go on home and if I need you I’ll call you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I’m at your service.”

After he left Grace looked up at me across the desk.

“Well, I suppose you’ve figured it all out?” she said.

“Basically. Rick Cox logged on to the system and made the changes to his stock options and a couple of other people’s on the night Ev died. What time does the log say he did the dirty deed?” I asked.

Grace looked at the sheet. “Eight-nineteen,” she said. “Why?”

“No reason,” I said and stood up. I needed to think. Something wasn’t right here but I wasn’t going to share my thoughts with Grace. Yet.

“Anything else?” I asked her.

“Not from you. Thanks so much. Your files were a great help,” she said.

“Yeah right,” I said. I gathered up all my stuff and headed for the door.

“Kathleen,” Grace said. I stopped and turned around.

“I’ll have to ask you to keep this information to yourself. What’s happened here is very serious and the fallout is going to be messy.”

“I know,” I said. “Mum’s the word.”

chapter sixteen

Something was wrong and I couldn’t pinpoint it. It was easy to see the mess with Rick Cox. That was obvious. But I had niggling thoughts. I thought about shaking my head to get my jumbled thoughts in order but knew I’d only make myself dizzy. I barrelled around the corner to head down the hall to my office and ran smack into Chris Oakes.

Ooof, was the only sound I made. I had been holding all my files against my chest with my arms wrapped around them and my head was down. The impact of running into him pushed the files into my chest and I now knew what a body check in hockey felt like. The files dropped at my feet and I took a step backwards to get my breath.

I looked up at Oakes and said “Sorry” and immediately wished I hadn’t said it. Why should I apologize? The asshole should have been watching where he was going. And you Kathleen, should have been watching where you were going, my internal Jiminy Cricket said to me.

I bent over to scoop up my files.

Oakes said, “Call Vanessa and tell her to check her voice mail.”

I stood up.

“I’m fine Chris. And you?” Jesus Christ, whatever happened to social niceties?

“Uh, uh, fine.” The man was a master conversationalist. Inspirational. “Sorry about the files,” he said. Now we were getting somewhere. I decided to forgive him.

“No problem. What’s that about Vanessa?” I asked.

“Call her and tell her to check her voice mail,” he repeated.

“Yeah, I got that part. Have you tried to reach her?” I asked.

“She’s not answering,” he pouted.

Is it any wonder, I thought. The man hounds her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She doesn’t answer her phone on the weekends because of it.

“I’m sure she’s checking her voice messages Chris. She always does,” I pointed out. “Do you need something?” I asked reluctantly. I could be letting myself in for some work here, and immediately regretted offering my services.

Chris latched on right away. “I can’t find something in her office,” he whined. As if he’d ever been in her office. “I’m looking for a couple of memos I got last week.”

“Let me put these files back in my office and I’ll take a look for you. Which ones do you need?” I asked. I sighed. You stupid idiot, Kathleen. I mentally slapped myself for offering to help. I was never going to get back to my book. Oakes followed along beside me to my office. I glanced up at him as we walked and saw traces of shaving cream on his right ear lobe. Yuck. To think he’d gone through a whole day and hadn’t noticed a hunk of dried something or other hanging off his ear. Double yuck!

“Some of the regional vice presidents sent me memos,” he said. I said nothing. The regional vp’s sent him memos every day. He’d better be a little more specific, I thought, or he’s going to get about six inches of paper dropped on his desk. He obviously thought I was a mind reader because he offered no other information.

“Chris,” I finally said. We were stopped outside the door to my office. “More specifics. Which memos?” I demanded.

“Vanessa knows,” he stated. And he turned around and continued down the hall towards his office.

Great, I thought. Just what I need. A treasure hunt. I lobbed a mental grenade at his back and savoured the thought of him going up in smoke. I dropped the files on my desk in a heap and headed to Vee’s office. As usual, her desk was neat as a pin and there wasn’t a piece of paper in sight. I knew everything would be locked up because she took the confidentiality factor very seriously. I lifted the vase on the back credenza which was filled with a beautiful silk flower arrangement and found the key to her filing cabinet underneath. Confidentiality, yes. Security, so-so. I had no idea where to begin and I knew I’d have to call her to find anything.

I dialled her cellular phone number which a few select people had. The company supplied the phone but the number was secret so Oakes couldn’t reach her. He was so thick he never thought to ask her for that number.

She answered on the third ring.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi, it’s Kate. Enjoying your Saturday?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s great. Ashley’s out at friend’s for a sleep-over and I’m just veggin’ out.” Ashley was her daughter.

“Checked your voice mail lately?”

“No, and I don’t plan to until tomorrow. Why?” she asked.

“I’m at the office. Oakes needs some memos and he’s being very vague as usual. I need some help finding them.”

“What the hell are you doing at the office?” she asked. “Catching up on your piling?” she joked. Everyone calls my filing, my piling. Because before it became a file, it was a pile.

“No, I thought I’d save that for you,” I teased. “You haven’t been that busy lately, so you can help me out.” We both laughed. “I’m in your office,” I continued. “He’s looking for some memos from the regional vp’s. That’s all he said.”

“He asked you to get them?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah. Why? What’s the big deal?”

Vee paused for a moment. “I’m just surprised. The memos are pretty sensitive.” I was amazed. She obviously knew exactly what Oakes wanted.

“Well, he did say he’s been trying to call you. I’m his last resort. So, you’re holding out on me,” I said. “What’s in the memos?”

“I would’ve let you know eventually,” she said. Vee and I share everything related to work. Besides giving us something to talk about, we keep each other informed.

Vee continued. “The memos he’s looking for are in the third drawer of the filing cabinet, in a file marked Roosters.”

“You’re sure those are the ones he wants?” I didn’t want this treasure hunt going on forever. I held the handset of the phone between my cheek and shoulder and unlocked the file cabinet as we talked. The file marked Roosters was near the back of the third drawer.

“Got it,” I said and shoved the drawer shut with my foot. “I’ll call you back if he needs anything else. I won’t tell him I talked to you. The man is going to think I’m amazing because I found the file,” I half bragged.

“Oh yeah. You’ll get a big raise. Get serious Kate,” she said.

“I know, I know. Just joking,” I laughed into the phone. “I’m going to give him a test and see if he remembers my name twice in one day. Talk to you later.” I hung up the phone and opened the file to take a quick glance and make sure there were memos in it from the regional vp’s. There were exactly three sheets of paper in the file. Three separate memos from three different vice presidents. The top third of each sheet looked the same because the memos had been created on our standard company memo paper. To, from, date, subject. Standard stuff. The subject line on each memo said Rick Cox.

Interesting, I thought. Very interesting. Rick Cox’s name was coming up at every turn. I quickly read each memo. The first one was what I thought a police report would read like: dates, times, names, places. The second and third memos were in a more narrative style but still covered dates, times, names and places. I slapped the file folder shut and headed into Oakes’ office.

He was barely visible through the cigar smoke where he was sitting at a very large oval table in the center of the room. Oakes didn’t have a desk. He worked at a table. I crossed the floor and my feet sunk ever so slightly into the plush carpet. His office was the size of a school gym but was sparsely furnished because he could never make up his mind on furnishings. He would order furniture and reject it as soon as it came in the door.

He was on the phone. I placed the file folder in front of him and turned around to leave the room. He called after me. “Kate.”

Be still my heart, I thought. He remembered my name. I turned around and he went back to talking on the phone. I was near the door and couldn’t make out what he was saying so I waited until he finally hung up.

“I need you to poll the directors and call a board meeting,” he said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I chanted under my breath. Vee, you owe me one, I thought.

“There’s a board meeting called for the end of the week,” I reminded him.

“I know. I want one tonight,” he said.

“Okay.” This wasn’t unusual. Chris called board meetings on a whim. The board members loved it. More directors’ fees. Every time there was a meeting they got paid big bucks. If the meetings lasted all day or half an hour, they got paid for it.

“Subject matter?” I asked. The board members like to know in advance exactly what they’re going to be required to rubber stamp.

He ignored me. “I only want the outside directors and Grace on the call. Don’t tell Didrickson,” he ordered. “There won’t be any minutes taken.” Great, I thought. Put me on the spot. When Harold finds out I knew about this, he’s going to be extremely pissed with me.