A Girl Betrayed (A Leah Mason suspense thriller Book 2) Page 11

  “Good idea. You heavy in it?”

  “I bought a boatload when I saw the proposal. Guy’s got a winner there,” Winters answered. While insider trading hadn’t been illegal for members of Congress until 2012, it was now; but enforcement was nonexistent. Fortunes were still routinely made by politicians and their aides, and the practice was so widespread that the press didn’t even bother covering it – becoming obscenely wealthy by flouting the rules everyone else had to obey was a perk of holding office, and there was no way any of the honorable gentlemen would spend a moment in jail for doing so. Too much money was made, and in the end, if being a public servant didn’t pay better than the private sector, why would anyone in their right mind run for office?

  Winters grinned when the other congressman slapped his back. “Good idea. Should double or triple once final word that they’ve been selected hits the ticker.”

  “The only possible downside is it flunks the testing.”

  Winters laughed. “I doubt that will happen. There’s no way the company would submit anything that isn’t bulletproof. For a start-up like this, a big government contract will be winning the lottery. They wouldn’t jeopardize that.”

  “Then it’s free money time again.”

  Winters smirked. “Beats working.”

  Chapter 18

  Emeryville, California

  Adam escorted Leah into Trader Vic’s. The restaurant was packed even on a weeknight. A hostess directed them to a table overlooking the water, and Adam insisted that Leah face the bay. A waiter came for their drink order, and Leah looked to Adam for suggestions.

  “They’re famous for their mai tais,” he said.

  “That’s mostly fruit juice, right?” she asked.

  “And just a little bit of rum,” the waiter said with a wink.

  Adam held up a pair of fingers. “Two, please.”

  “Very good, sir,” the waiter replied, and then hurried away.

  They scanned their menus, and then Leah set hers down and smiled at Adam.

  “You’ve been researching Richard?” Leah asked.

  “Not so fast. How did your visits go today?”

  “Pretty much a goose egg. Abacus slammed the door in my face, and the lender was super low-end – as in one level up from having used guitars and jewelry in the window.” She sighed. “And the president could have been an extra on The Sopranos.”

  “That’s a shame. Although you still got some information on the lender. It’s unusual for a highflyer to be dealing with a scumbag.”

  The waiter returned with their drinks and set them down. He took their order and menus, and Adam held his glass in the air. “To Texas!”

  “Cheers,” she agreed, and took a cautious sip. She set the glass down and frowned at Adam. “A little rum? That tastes like half the bottle.”

  “No extra charge.”

  “Adam…”

  “Hey, I didn’t tell you it was just a few drops, he did. Besides, I’m drinking it too.”

  “You may wind up with half of mine.” She paused. “What about the laptop?”

  “The elves are working away. He said he hopes to have it tomorrow morning. We’ll see.”

  “You have faith in this guy?”

  “As much as in anyone.”

  Leah sat forward and took another sip. She made a face. “That’s quite a drink.”

  “Good to the last drop,” Adam agreed.

  “So what did you learn about our boy?” Leah asked.

  “Well, there’s the official résumé, and then there’s the in-depth information you only get by talking to insiders. You already know his CV: associate at one company, promoted to junior after two years. Jumped ship to become a full partner at a smaller fund, where he remained for almost six years. Left on good terms, took a year or so to raise his own at the best possible moment in the cycle, and has been running Palladium ever since.”

  “But…” Leah prompted.

  “What’s interesting is how he became a junior at the first fund. According to my sources, he brought a deal to the partners that they loved. The fund took a piece of the company, dressed it up, and then sold it to a larger player in the same space. Where it gets weird is that a year later, the company winds up being closed down by the parent – turns out the entire thing was a scam, or at least that was the rumor.”

  “A scam? How?”

  “Well, it isn’t clear. Probably accounting fraud, by the sound of it. There was a lot of that going on for a while, and this was a mainly cash business in shopping malls. Candy by the pound or something.”

  “That’s not the typical deal VCs do, is it?”

  “No. Most stick to specialized areas of technology. But on this one, my hunch is the economics were so good they made an exception. It worked out great for the fund, of course, because they got paid when the deal closed. By the time it went belly-up, they were out with cash in their pockets, and the acquiring company was stuck with the fallout.”

  “Why didn’t they sue?”

  “Probably because they didn’t want the bad publicity. Think about it. You’re the CEO of a corporation. You acquire another in an all-cash deal. Then it turns out you were hoodwinked, but it takes a year of operating the outlets to figure it out. You want to let on you’re an idiot, and be out on the street, passing out résumés? Or do you bury it, explain it away as a model that ceased to be viable because of income recognition, or space renegotiations, or whatever? If you want to keep your cushy lifestyle, you lie and absorb the loss. Otherwise it comes out in court you’re a dolt, and your career’s over.”

  “That’s…that’s terrible.”

  “The acquiring company was privately held, so it’s a viable theory. There’s no way of knowing for sure, though, and nobody’s talking. Although…” Adam took a long sip of his mai tai.

  Leah’s eyebrows rose. “Although…?”

  “The district attorney in South San Francisco, where the company was based, was close to filing charges against the fund, and then…didn’t.”

  “Another oddity, no?”

  “I found out who the DA was, and she’s still there. Same woman. Actually, she was an assistant DA back then and is now the DA. But if an enterprising young ace reporter were to show up, she might be willing to talk about it.”

  Leah beamed at him. “You’re a genius.”

  Adam smiled. “Well…”

  She held out her glass. “That’s the first thing I’ve heard that’s worth toasting to.”

  “The Texas pandering didn’t do it?”

  “If that was a bottle of Lone Star, maybe. But a mai tai? Hell no!”

  They laughed together, and a busboy arrived with their entrees. He placed them on the table and eyed their half-finished drinks. “Refills?”

  Adam took a big swig of his. “Can’t walk on one leg.”

  “I’m good,” Leah said, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “The food looks delicious.”

  Adam grinned at her. “Sure does.”

  A sailboat tacked in the darkness of the bay, its running lights changing from green to red. Leah tasted her shrimp and nodded. “It’s really good. You want some?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got my hands full here. Thanks. Let me know if you want any of my swordfish.”

  “I will.”

  Another mai tai arrived, and they bantered easily over dinner, business talk finished. Leah learned that he was the younger of two brothers who had grown up in San Mateo, gone to University of Berkley and graduated with honors, and that Valliant was his third start-up.

  “What happened to the others?” Leah asked, setting her knife and fork on her plate.

  “The first one died an ugly death. Second one did pretty well. I had a small piece of it, so made out okay.”

  “What did it do?”

  “Search engine optimization back end. Little company called Google picked us up. That’s how I got my VC contacts. You get bought by Google, you’re on their radar. I must have received t
hirty offers before I accepted Simon’s.”

  “Wow. A success story.”

  “It sounds that way now, but you weren’t there for the hundred-hour workweeks and the times we had to defer paychecks for a month so we didn’t have to close the doors. But on balance, it was worth it. I learned a lot – although it didn’t leave a lot of time for anything but work.”

  “And now you’re a bigwig at Valliant,” Leah said, seeing where he was going with it and adeptly dodging the topic of his personal life.

  “Yeah. It’s been an amazing ride so far.” He grinned. “For you too, I’ll bet.”

  “Sure. After El Paso, anything would be a laugh a minute.”

  Adam regarded her over his drink. “Simon feels we were lucky to get you. I agree.”

  “I’m happy things worked out,” she parried, deflecting the compliment and taking a final sip of her drink. “Wow. One more of these and you’d be carrying me out of here.”

  “Sounds like there are worse fates.”

  “I need to use the facilities. Do not order another drink for me, Adam. I’m serious.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She eyed him distrustfully. “Promise.”

  He sighed. “You got me. Fine. I won’t. But you have to have dinner with me again.”

  She stood. “That sounds like a negotiation.”

  “Quid pro quo. You want the DA’s contact info…”

  “South San Francisco? Can’t be that hard to find.” Adam’s face fell, and Leah began walking toward the lady’s room. After a few steps, she twisted to look at him. “Fine. But next time, nothing fancy.”

  She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, and decided that she didn’t actually mind it as much as she’d thought she might. An image of Uriel sprang to mind, and her smile faded.

  When Leah pushed through the door into the bathroom, it was empty, and she whispered to herself as she looked at herself in the mirror, “You have no idea what you want, do you?”

  Her reflection didn’t answer, which was probably best.

  Chapter 19

  Richard was in his office at eleven a.m., poring over the file that the little Ravstar engineer had given him at the golf course, confirming the calculations line by line. The data was damning so far, and he could see why Rayansh had been so agitated when they’d met. If everything in the report bore out, there was no way the scanner could be deployed anytime soon – it would require a major retooling and perhaps a rethink of the entire design. That would take many months, best case, and if it came down to the basic design, years. Either way, the stock price would be clubbed like a baby seal and would never recover.

  He thought about Marco’s description of Patrick as a flimflam man, and frowned. That could be a positive when Wall Street was involved, but it only went so far, and if the company couldn’t deliver its debut product, the company was dead; and with it, much of the capital of Richard’s fund as well as a substantial chunk of his net worth. To frame it as a disaster was an understatement, and Richard was growing convinced with every passing minute that the technology was, if not completely a sham, not ready for release.

  Richard’s background was in business and economics, but he’d naturally gravitated to technology early in his career and could have given many engineers a run for their money. He hadn’t pursued an engineering degree in school because he hadn’t seen the point – with the right MBA he’d get a seat at the table, and his understanding of technology and physics would be his edge.

  One of them, at any rate. He was also willing to take risks his more conservative peers shied away from, and could bend the truth without blinking when it suited his purpose. That had proved invaluable in leapfrogging from associate to partner, and even more so during the lull between when he’d left his last fund and had been circling to raise this one. It had been a lean period, with much of his net worth in the house and on stock bets that had failed to pan out, and he’d contrived a way to make ends meet while traveling and presenting to investors for his own fund. Perhaps not a strictly legal way, but that had never bothered Richard. He’d spent enough time investing to understand that the rules were in place to control the sheep, but were barely a nuisance for the wolves.

  His desk phone rang and he scowled at it. He’d told the front desk to hold his calls. Richard reluctantly reached for it.

  “Are you going to be home for dinner?” Heather asked. He’d flown in that morning, stopped at the house to change and pick up one of his cars, and then driven directly to the office, preoccupied by Terra Megatrends’ funding round and Rayansh’s revelations about Ravstar.

  “I should be. But don’t wait up. I may have to work late.”

  “I haven’t seen you for…seems like a week, Richard.”

  “Has it been that long?” he asked. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not going to be much company tonight. It was a bitch of a trip, and I’m beat.”

  “You’ve had a lot of those lately,” she said.

  Richard ignored the implication and eyed his watch. “Got to put food on the table. You know how it goes.”

  “Sure. Well, I might not be here when you get home. I’m thinking about going to the movies.”

  “That’s a good idea. No reason you should be cooped up because I have to slave away.”

  “I’ll text you if I do.”

  “Do that. Sorry, but I have to go. I’m bailing water here.”

  He returned to his analysis, checking and rechecking the engineer’s figures. An hour later he checked the time and frowned. He pressed a button on the intercom.

  “Tony, can you come in here, please?”

  A young man with slicked-back hair entered Richard’s office a minute later. “You wanted to see me?”

  Richard tossed him a key fob. “The Porsche’s covered with dust, and I haven’t had time to wash it. Will you get a sandwich for me and have the car washed? Oh, and there’s a ticket on the passenger seat – I have some shirts that need to be picked up at the cleaner’s.”

  Tony’s right eye twitched once. “Sure. What do you want? The usual?”

  Richard was already back to Rayansh’s report. He looked up at Tony, his brow creased, and nodded once. “What do you think?” he snapped.

  Tony left, and Richard shook his head. He’d given the kid a job as a favor to Marco, but Tony didn’t have what it took, he could already tell. When Richard had been an associate, he’d anticipated everyone’s needs and had worked fourteen-hour days to impress his bosses. Half the time Tony showed up to work looking like he’d been at a rave all night, and so far had been dead weight around the office. At first Richard had tried to mask his annoyance, but now he didn’t bother – Marco and he were pregnant on too many deals, and if the kid washed out, it wasn’t personal; Richard had given him a shot. Marco would understand. It was just business.

  Richard sighed and stood. He walked to the window and gazed out at the hills, and then down at his cobalt blue Turbo 911 Cabriolet. Tony was sauntering to it unhurriedly, clearly happy to be driving a dream car even if it was just to run Richard’s errands. Richard had meant to tell him not to drop the top, but had forgotten. He felt for his cell phone and was searching for Tony’s number when the car seemed to swell from within and then exploded in an orange fireball that soared into the sky. The windows shuddered from the blast, and Richard instinctively ducked and winced. After a second he straightened, with his mouth hanging open. His beloved Porsche was now an unrecognizable snarl of burning metal, sending black smoke corkscrewing into the warm autumn sky.

  Chapter 20

  Newark, New Jersey

  Angelo Altos scowled at his lieutenant, Carlo, from across the table as he sipped espresso. The restaurant was closed until dinnertime, but it was one of Angelo’s group’s many holdings, and he enjoyed the tranquility of the courtyard in the center of the structure, the sound of the water from the wall fountain burbling in the background. A far cry from Manhattan’s or Newark’s concrete jungle, it was a small oasis i
n a world of complexity.

  “There’s no way Maggie would have copied the video. We can rule her out. I’ve known her for twenty-five years,” Angelo said. “She’s like a sister.”

  “People do strange things when they think there’s easy money to be had,” Carlo observed.

  “Not Maggie,” Angelo said, although he didn’t sound as certain as before.

  “So…what do we do?”

  “Who on our end had physical possession?”

  “Only Tommy. To make the copy you showed Winters.” Tommy was Angelo’s tech guy, who usually busied himself with sweeping rooms and cars to ensure they weren’t bugged.

  “The original’s in my safe. You think he might have made more than one copy?” Angelo asked.

  Carlo shrugged and took a sip of his espresso. “Anything’s possible. I mean, we’ve used him for, what, seven years, but do you ever really know what’s going on in a guy’s mind?”

  “I don’t see that as likely.”

  “Then we’re back to Maggie. Maybe you should…have a serious talk with her?”

  Angelo shook his head. “I told you. It couldn’t be her.”

  “Then it’s a mystery.”

  “We may have to do the drop to find out who’s behind this. Nobody’s going to exactly volunteer,” Angelo said.

  “Half a million simoleons. Want me to scratch that up?”

  Angelo shook his head. “Nah. We can use funny money. Not like they’re going to live to spend it.” He removed a cigar from his shirt pocket, sniffed it, and replaced it without lighting it. His doctor had forbidden him from smoking, but he still carried a Romeo y Julieta around for the smell. “Frigging doctor. What does he know, anyhow?”

  Carlo was used to Angelo cursing out his physician. But nosebleed blood pressure that was barely controlled by meds and a high enough cholesterol number for three people had convinced Angelo that it was better to curse his doctor than praise his mortician.