Shadow Account (22 page)

17

Conner sipped coffee from a porcelain mug as he reviewed the Pharmaco valuation analysis he’d printed out before leaving last night. The mug had been a gift from Liz a few weeks after they met. It had
ELVIS
on one side in bold black letters, surrounded by musical notes. The memory of her giving it to him was bittersweet. She had surprised him with it one night, and he’d wanted to go out afterward to eat at an Italian place around the corner. But she’d refused to leave the apartment with him—as usual, her need for secrecy dictating their relationship.

He had an appointment with his contact at Merrill Lynch in a few hours to find out why Liz had quit the firm so suddenly. Maybe the answer would clear up the question of why she never wanted to be seen with him, too.

It was six thirty—early even for Conner. But he wanted to be ready when Gavin got in from Long Island. If there were suddenly going to be tens of millions of dollars in the Phenix bonus pool at the end of the year because of the two huge transactions on the horizon, he wanted his share.

He stretched, leaning back in the chair and reaching for the ceiling. His body was stiff. He’d stayed at Jackie’s apartment last night, holding her until she fell asleep. Stroking her hair until her breathing had finally turned slow and regular. She’d hugged him at the door two hours ago as he was leaving for Gavin’s apartment to shower and change, whispering how wonderful it had felt to be wrapped in his strong arms all night.

A slight smile creased Conner’s face as he thought about it. It had been nice to hear that.

He stretched one more time, then scanned the cluttered desk and credenza. Searching for his copy of the presentation he and Gavin had delivered to Pharmaco’s board of directors last Friday. He wanted to check a number they’d put in there, but he couldn’t remember where he’d put the damn thing. And he couldn’t pull up an electronic copy, because the office network was temporarily down, according to a message flashing on his screen. “I’ll never find it in here,” he muttered, standing up and heading for the doorway.

He chuckled as he passed Paul Stone’s office. It was way past cluttered. It was a wreck—thanks to Rebecca. And it was going to be fun watching Stone’s reaction.

Conner moved into Gavin’s office. The old man’s copy of the Pharmaco presentation ought to be in here. They’d come straight back to the office on Friday after the meeting in Princeton. And it seemed unlikely that he’d taken it to Long Island.

Conner searched the desktop, then the credenza beside the desk, picking up a stack of magazines when he spotted something that looked like the presentation. As he picked up the magazines, a plain white envelope fluttered to the floor. Conner replaced the magazines on the credenza, then leaned down and retrieved the envelope, staring at the return address as he slowly straightened up. Pharmaco International. Princeton, New Jersey. Postmarked last Friday. The day he and Gavin had made the presentation.

The envelope was open.

He slid the letter out and began to read.

Dear Gavin,

Thank you for coming to Princeton today. The board wholeheartedly agrees with me that you made a strong case for hiring Phenix Capital to represent Pharmaco.

Unfortunately, the board has come to the conclusion that we must hire Harper Manning to represent us instead. Harper Manning has
the resources and the reputation the board believes Pharmaco requires for such a challenging and important assignment. It would be too great a risk for us as directors to hire your firm. In these times of activist shareholder rights groups, we would be second-guessed for
the rest of our corporate careers if we hired you and something
went wrong. I know that at some point Phenix Capital will be ready
for this kind of assignment, but you aren’t there quite yet. At least, not for us.

I hope you understand our position. Perhaps there will be other things you can work on for us. I’ll keep you in mind. Please feel free to call me to discuss this matter. Once again, I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do.

All best.

Kenneth (Kenny) R. Johnson

Chief Executive Officer

Pharmaco International

The letter shook in Conner’s hand. There was no transaction—at least, not for Phenix. Pharmaco’s board of directors had selected Harper Manning to represent the company. The old man had lied. The huge file sitting in Conner’s desk chair the other night had been a forgery. Not sent over by Pharmaco. Probably put together by Gavin himself. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

He slid the letter back inside the envelope and replaced it in one of the magazines, then glanced at the doorway. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the office when he’d arrived. He had to be the only one here.

He started going through Gavin’s desk, beginning with the top drawer. The hell with privacy. Gavin had investigated his life, and had him followed. Gavin had shown no respect for privacy, and lied about Pharmaco. It was time to find out what other secrets the old man had.

In the bottom right-hand drawer was a small box. Conner knelt down and removed it, then placed it down on the carpeted floor. He lifted the lid off and peered inside. Envelopes. He picked up the top one—just the word
Gav
scrawled on the front of it—and pulled the folded page from inside. It was from Helen. Signed by her at the bottom.

He leaned around the desk and glanced at the office doorway once more. Prying into the intimacies of a man’s marriage wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he needed information anywhere he could get it right now.

Gav, what’s going on? Why are you away from me so much these
days? Is it really business? Please tell me. I’m beginning to think it isn’t. And if it isn’t, I swear I’ll call the lawyer. I can’t have you do this to me. I’m not going to keep playing the fool. We’ve been married for thirty-four years. I love you so much. But I’m going crazy thinking that you’re—

“What are you doing?”

Conner’s eyes flashed to the doorway. Lynn Jacobs, Gavin’s assistant, stood there staring at him. “I was looking for Gavin’s copy of that presentation we made to Pharmaco last Friday,” he explained, sliding Helen’s note back inside the envelope, the envelope back inside the box and the box back inside the drawer. She couldn’t see what he was doing because the desk blocked her view. He closed the drawer, stood up, and grabbed the presentation off the credenza. “Here it is,” he said, holding it up as he headed toward her.

As she stepped aside to allow him out of the office, he could see the suspicion all over her face.

The woman pulled back the pastel yellow comforter and rose slowly from the king-sized bed, then moved out onto the balcony of the fifth-floor apartment overlooking the glistening turquoise waters off south Florida. She put her head back and closed her eyes as she leaned against the railing, enjoying the warm morning breeze coming in off the ocean. It blew gently over her body, causing her to shiver even in the heat as her long hair fluttered in the breeze, tickling her shoulders.

She grinned smugly when she spotted two men in bathing suits standing beside a palm tree on the beach below, holding surfboards as they ogled her. She loved to manipulate men. Had since she was a teenager. Starting with her uncle, the pervert. He lived three trailers down. Until he’d drowned in his bathtub one night after drinking half a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. After coming on to her that morning.

Men thought they were so strong, but they weren’t. Men were weak. So vulnerable to what a woman could offer.

Most men, anyway. But not her benefactor. He was different. Cold to the core—which she admired.

She gazed at a ship on the horizon. She loved the ocean, but she hated water. She couldn’t swim and she was terrified of boats. She loved the ocean because it was so different from the dusty part of west Texas she’d abandoned ten years ago. And there couldn’t be a more important reason than that.

She glanced back down at the two young men and waved, watching with satisfaction as they elbowed each other like schoolboys when they realized she’d noticed them. Then she turned and moved back into the apartment, collapsing onto the bed. She’d worked late last night, earning almost eight hundred dollars. But she was sore from climbing up and sliding down that damn pole so many times. From manipulating her body in ways she knew turned them on.

Eight hundred dollars in one night. A few years ago that would have been big money, but not now. Now it paled in comparison to what she was about to earn. And they were so close. It was all about to happen. He’d called last night to tell her that, and she’d heard the excitement in his voice. A tone she’d never heard before. She closed her eyes again as she thought of what it would be like to have tens of millions of dollars—the way she’d thought about it every day of her life since she’d understood the difference between poverty and prosperity.

So many people had tried to tell her money wasn’t everything. That never having to worry about it simply meant there would be other problems that could turn out to be worse. She pulled the yellow comforter over her body, her eyelids growing heavy. Those people had never had the pleasure of rooting through a restaurant Dumpster for breakfast.

Conner checked his watch as page after page of the Pharmaco valuation analysis emerged from the printer. Eight forty-five. The office network had come back up at seven, and he’d completed the valuation as though he hadn’t seen the letter from Pharmaco’s CEO. Completing the analysis was an exercise in futility at this point, but he couldn’t let on that he knew the real deal. He needed to keep playing the game.

When all fifteen pages had printed out, Conner scrawled a quick note asking Gavin to review the data, then paper-clipped the note to the printout and hustled down the corridor to the old man’s office. He dropped the analysis on Gavin’s chair and hurried back to his office. Gavin still wasn’t in. But it wouldn’t be long before he got here, and Conner didn’t want to give the old man a chance to call him in for questions. Things Conner needed to follow up on had suddenly taken on incredible urgency. He grabbed his wallet and cell phone and headed for the elevators, leaving his jacket hanging from a hook on the back of the office door. He wanted Gavin to think he was around.

As the elevator doors opened, Conner hurried toward the car—and almost ran into Paul Stone coming out of it. “Excuse me,” he muttered, stepping back.

“Where are you going?” Stone demanded.

“Downstairs to get something to eat. Want anything?”

“Nah, I already ate. Hey, how are you coming on the Pharmaco analysis? This is going to be a huge fee for us. You should be turning that thing fast. Chop, chop.”

The elevator doors closed behind Stone. Gavin would be arriving at any moment. He rarely got in later than nine, even when he’d spent the night in Easthampton. “I am, Paul,” Conner assured Stone, moving around him and pushing the “down” button. The numbers above the doors indicated that several cars were approaching.

“What’s wrong?” Stone asked.

“Huh?”

“You seem a little edgy. You all right?”

“I’m fine.” Another elevator opened and Conner held his breath. Several people filed off, but Gavin wasn’t among them. Conner bolted toward the car, slipping his arm between the doors just as they closed. Prying them open as the next car reached the floor. “See you in a few minutes,” he called over his shoulder as he made it inside.

“Conner, that car is going . . .”

Conner didn’t hear the rest. He leaned against the back of the car and let out a long breath as it began to move. He’d spotted Gavin getting off the other elevator.

He glanced around at the other people in the car. They were all staring at him wide-eyed. “Sorry folks,” he apologized. “Guess I shouldn’t have had that third espresso.”

“Was that Conner?” Gavin asked, gesturing at the elevator doors that had just closed.

Stone nodded. “Yeah.”

“Thought so. Where’s he going in such a hurry?”

“Downstairs to get something to eat. At least, that’s what he claimed.” Stone nodded at the still illuminated “down” button. “But the elevator he got on was going up.” Stone looked over at Gavin. “You think it’s anything to worry about?”

“Nah,” Gavin said, shaking his head as he walked toward the Phenix front door. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

Conner had been standing in a doorway across from the apartment building on Fifty-first for thirty minutes. Waiting for an opportunity to get past the doorman. But the guy hadn’t left his post once. He just kept standing on the sidewalk with his white-gloved hands clasped behind his back, not even reading a newspaper as he waited to open the door for people. Conner pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and checked the address again, then glanced at the numbers over the building’s entrance. This was definitely the address Art Meeks had mentioned. Liz Shaw’s address.

Watching the doorman reminded Conner that he needed to call Eddie this afternoon. Eddie had promised to check the name on the lease of the apartment they had entered last night. Conner had spent fifteen minutes in there, going through the broken furniture. Looking for any clue that might help him figure out what had really happened last Wednesday night. But he’d found nothing and finally given in to Eddie’s urgent pleas to get the hell out.

Why had Gavin lied about Pharmaco? That question kept racing through Conner’s mind. Maybe he was just trying to be reassuring about Phenix’s financial situation. Conner had pushed the old man hard about that twice, and the last time Gavin had gotten angry. Not just a run-of-the-mill temper tantrum, either. There had been something else in the steely expression and curt words, and it looked a lot like desperation. But Gavin had to realize that the Pharmaco deception wouldn’t have much of a shelf life. That Conner would figure out what had happened quickly. Which meant the Pharmaco lie was a delaying tactic for something else.

His cell phone rang. It was Gavin calling from the office. The third time in the last forty-five minutes the old man had tried to reach him. Conner waited for the call to go to voice mail, then dialed another number, glancing up and down the sidewalk as he waited for an answer. Scanning the area for anyone who looked like they were watching him.