The Insiders (32 page)
When they were finished, Hap stood up again. “Driggs, you’re at Teterboro. Potter, you take your team to Cap-d’Oro. Irving, you take Portsmouth. Jones, you’ve got Bayboro. If we haven’t found anything in twenty-four hours, you’ll be given the next four airports and another twenty-four hours. If we haven’t found her by then, I’m not sure we will, unless she can give us more information. Call me on my cell phone if we need to talk, otherwise, check in with the office every two hours for updates and reports. Concentrate your efforts within a five-mile radius of the airport and start with the executive terminal grounds themselves. We’re all on twenty-four-hour duty for the next two days, so get your rest when you can. Good luck.”
After the four team-leaders left the apartment, Hap joined two other associates in the living room waiting for a briefing from Wilson on his session with Carter Emerson. When Wilson arrived at the apartment ten minutes later, a little past midnight, he nodded at Hap’s men stationed outside the twelfth-floor apartment and walked through the entryway into the living room.
Hap started the discussion by updating Wilson on the targeted airports.
“What if she’s not at one of the eight airports?” Wilson asked.
“Assuming we don’t get any new information that would cause us to change or expand our target sites and we can’t find her within the next forty-eight hours, we’ll have to bring in the FBI,” he said, pausing to see Wilson’s response.
Wilson nodded. His own doubts about whether the government would fully expose the secret partnership had been superseded by his concern for Emily. But after reading Carter’s history, he’d conceded that no democratic government would be able to sweep this under the rug. “Will she have a chance, if it comes to that?”
“Of course, but the FBI will have to find her before Tate and her captors figure out what’s happening.”
“Let’s bring them in now,” Wilson said bluntly.
“I think that’s exactly what we should do. Given the extent of Carter’s documentation and Tate’s penchant for murder, it makes no sense to wait. I can meet with the head of the FBI’s corporate crime division first thing tomorrow morning. Her name is Kirsten Kohl and she’s as good as they get. They’ll need a day to debrief Carter and develop a plan of attack, but Tate won’t do anything rash during the next couple of days, as long as you’re spinning out the division he wants. With any luck we’ll find Emily while you’re buying us time by following Tate’s wishes,” Hap said with the same confidence he’d displayed earlier in the day.
“Tell me the truth, Hap. What are our chances of finding her in the next two days?”
“Her clues are good, Wilson. They allowed us to narrow it down to eight airports. I think our chances of finding her are very good, as long as they don’t move her.”
Wilson ignored the last part of Hap’s comment for the moment. “What will you do when you find her?”
Hap hesitated.
Wilson already knew what he was going to say before he said it. It was the only thing that made sense under the circumstances, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“We’ll have to keep her under close surveillance until the FBI is ready to arrest Wayland Tate and everybody else in the secret partnership,” Hap said, his eyes firm yet sympathetic.
Wilson nodded noncommittally.
Hap continued, “If we don’t wait, Tate and his partners will disappear. You, Emily, and your family will continue to be at risk.”
Wilson turned his attention to the other part of Hap’s earlier comment. “What if they move her?”
“Then it will be up to the FBI to convince Tate and his partners to give her up.”
Wilson closed his eyes. The thought of losing Emily caused his body to ache, as if twisting until his bones were ready to break. When he opened his eyes, the sweat on his forehead was visible. He pushed back his moist hair. “Make your contact with the FBI,” he said. “Carter will have to accelerate his disclosure schedule.”
Just as expected, Wayland Tate, Robert Swatling, Jules Kamin, John Malouf, and Carter Emerson arrived at Fielder & Company first thing Tuesday morning to personally deliver the partnership’s five-page plan for spinning out the corporate restructuring practice. Wilson felt like a robot, having to control his emotions in their presence, but he had no choice.
Most of the day unfolded in his father’s office with his father’s partners and Leigh Tennyson, going over the details of the plan, the principal points of which were outlined in a brutally succinct document:
$900 million in cash to Fielder & Company;
The transfer of Malouf, Tennyson, and over two hundred consultants and staff to the new firm;
An intensive two-week transition period for physically separating corporate restructuring from all Fielder & Company offices and systems; and
Establishment of Malouf & Company as the new spin-out entity, a limited liability corporation owned and operated by the group of people currently sitting around the gray stone table, with the exception of Wilson Fielder.
On the surface the meeting was conducted very professionally, dutifully focused on the spin-out. Beneath the facade, however, everything felt surreal and creepy, like being abducted by aliens. Nevertheless, Wilson kept his cool, suppressing the urge to blow them all to kingdom come.
Discussion of the final disclosure was limited although well orchestrated. Tate projected it to occur in two year’s time. Fucking liar, Wilson thought. During the few hours they spent together, each of the six new owners of Malouf & Company personally promised Wilson that his father’s vision would be ultimately realized, no matter what, and that Damien Hearst would be convinced to return Emily unharmed. They all seemed so genuine, it was pathetic. Malouf and Tennyson even apologized for not being able to discuss things earlier. They were human manipulators, who could no longer do anything else.
“It was nothing personal,” Malouf said, during a short break.
“I understand,” Wilson said, acknowledging that nothing was ever personal with Malouf.
“We both wanted to tell you what was happening on the trip, but everyone else wanted to wait. I think they were afraid of how you’d react,” Tennyson said.
“Don’t worry about it, Leigh, the important thing now is to make sure this transition goes smoothly,” Wilson said, repulsed by her two-facedness.
Swatling and Kamin pretended as if they’d known Wilson for years, patting him on the back and congratulating him. Tate and Carter took turns assuming a fatherly role by giving Wilson counsel on how to proceed. It was all too bizarre and eerie—and almost convincing.
Carter seemed surprisingly adept at playing both sides. After counseling Wilson that all shared clients should be given ample opportunity to work with both firms, Wilson said, “That works both ways.”
To which Carter immediately responded, “As long as Fielder & Company avoids the temptation to get into the corporate restructuring business.”
“Don’t worry,” Wilson said, furrowing his brow. “We’ll refer all our corporate restructuring leads to Malouf & Company during the next two years. After that, there’s no obligation, right?”
“Right, but make sure that no one jumps the gun. We want to give Malouf & Company ample opportunity to establish itself,” Carter said.
“No problem,” Wilson returned, looking at Carter with a cynical smirk, but no one seemed to notice. He wanted to yank Carter aside and tell him he was overdoing it, but Carter was playing his own hand. Wilson had no more illusions that Tate or anyone else in the partnership, including Carter, would do anything other than serve their own purposes. What he did trust, however, was Carter’s disclosure obsession. He kept reminding himself of that moment of clarity; Carter was not his enemy.
At three o’clock in the afternoon, Fielder & Company issued a press release via fax and email, announcing the spin-out of the corporate restructuring practice as a strategic decision to accelerate the development of both Fielder & Company and the newly created Malouf & Company. A three-page summary of the spin-out was also sent to all past, current, and prospective Fielder & Company clients and affiliated firms, explaining how the corporate restructuring practice had grown autonomous over the years. This spin-out would allow the new firm to expand and enhance its unique approach to providing ad hoc staff support services to CEOs and senior executives, while allowing Fielder & Company to do the same with its remaining practice areas.
Things were moving rapidly, but this time Wilson was ready. He’d played his part perfectly, albeit with a deep resentment in his chest. And even though he hadn’t heard from Emily in almost twenty-four hours, he remained hopeful that Hap’s men would find her and bring her home unharmed.
Later that evening, when Wilson returned to the Back Bay apartment through a new concealed entrance, Hap was waiting with Philip Johns and Kirsten Kohl. A man in his fifties, Johns was the head of the FBI’s Boston bureau; he was medium height with thinning red hair, a weathered face, and a trim physique. Kohl was a woman in her forties, stocky but fit with sympathetic eyes, and head of the FBI’s corporate crime division.
Hap had spent the entire day briefing Johns and Kohl by telephone and in person at the Back Bay apartment. Not surprisingly to Wilson, Johns and Kohl had already obtained authorization to launch a full-scale investigation. The only remaining caveat seemed to be a review of national security implications by the U.S. Attorney General, the National Security Advisor, and the President of the United States. But according to Johns and Kohl, FBI Director Bainbridge and Deputy Director Wiseman would have the necessary approvals before tomorrow morning.
As the four of them sat down together in the living room of the apartment, Wilson asked the most pressing question on his mind. “What about Emily?”
“Nothing from the first four airports where the highest number of aircraft landed. We’ll move to the second four before dawn,” Hap said.
Wilson’s heart sank. If they couldn’t find Emily by tomorrow night, the FBI would have to negotiate her release. Would the FBI be willing to negotiate with the secret partnership?
“First of all, let me assure you that we concur with Hap’s plan to rescue Emily,” Agent Kohl said. “We have dispatched backup teams to be used, as necessary, by Hap’s leads in the field. If we haven’t found her by tomorrow night, we’ll bring the hammer down on Tate, Swatling, Kamin, and Malouf.”
“Good,” Wilson said, staring at Kohl who was staring back. There was something about her that made him feel comfortable—conviction, resolve, savvy. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he liked the feeling. Maybe it was her concern about Emily. The FBI’s involvement made him feel both relieved and anxious. He prayed they’d do the right thing.
“Do you think your mother and Carter Emerson will cooperate?” Kohl asked.
“For immunity, yes,” Wilson said, just as Carter and he had discussed.
“That can be arranged,” Kohl said, without even a hint of hesitation.
It had probably been pre-approved, Wilson thought to himself. It was almost as if she’d been working on the case for months. The surprise on his face must have been apparent.
Kohl continued. “We’ve known about Tate and Kamin for a couple of weeks. David Quinn blew the whistle on them. Arrest warrants and subpoenas had already been issued when Quinn died, and our case along with him. We’re still not sure his death was a suicide. His wife’s death is also in question,” Kohl said. Then she added, “Wasn’t he a client of yours?”
“Yes,” Wilson said as he sat back on the sofa, reflecting on David Quinn and his resistance to breaking up the J. B. Musselman Company. “He didn’t want to listen to us. He was too sure of himself. I’m not surprised that Tate got to him. Desperation seems to open the door to manipulation.”
“His disclosures have allowed us to mobilize resources faster than usual,” Kohl returned.
Wilson nodded at the strange irony before turning his attention back to his family. “My mother has been out of the loop for several years and I would like to keep it that way,” Wilson said, feeling new empathy for her.
Kohl and Johns exchanged looks to confirm their agreement. Again, it was Kohl who responded, “We will honor that request as long as Mr. Emerson is willing to cooperate fully.”
“He will,” Wilson said.
“How soon can we see him?” Kohl asked.
“As soon as the immunity guarantees for Carter and my mother are in place,” Wilson said.
“We can have the necessary assurances in writing by mid-morning tomorrow,” Kohl said.
“You’re welcome to call Carter from here if you’d like, the phones at both ends are clean,” Wilson said, glancing at Hap to confirm.
Hap nodded, “All signs of surveillance have disappeared. They appear to have backed off completely, at least for the moment. My guess is it’s an attempt to make Wilson feel more comfortable.”
“We’d like you to arrange it,” Kohl said, her blue green eyes drilling Wilson.
“Why?” Wilson asked.
“We also want assurances,” Kohl said, hesitating for a moment. “It might be good to advise him of that before we make contact.”
“What sort of assurances?” Hap asked, surprised.
Kohl sat back on the black sofa and waited a moment. It was clear that this was her turf. She began calmly. “Full cooperation. Names, files, recorded conversations, testimony, and entrapment, if we request it. And of course, an ongoing commitment.”
“Commitment?” Wilson said, eyebrows raised.
“Commitment that he will in no way use his knowledge of manipulating capital markets in this country or elsewhere in the world at anytime in the future.”
Wilson eased back into the sofa, debating whether to probe further or simply agree to call Carter. “Are you more concerned about the cooperation or the abstinence?” Wilson asked.
This time Johns responded, “Any individual capable of such abuses could do it again, without anyone knowing.”
“The whole point of their ten-year gambit was to make sure this sort of abuse never happened again,” Wilson said with an unexpected flare of emotion.