After his resignation was announced, two things happened that definitely were not part of his strategy of buying Vulcan. The first was when Borstad’s wife got home that evening, he discovered something he never knew—she reads the newspapers. Her girlfriends at the country club interrogated her regarding the change in her financial affairs, and she wanted answers from Borstad. “Is it true? Our money is gone, and so is all the prestige we enjoyed at the club?”
She was full of questions. He was fully prepared to ignore them. They fought; she stormed from the house and didn’t come back. Borstad learned a few days later where she had gone when served with Mrs. Borstad’s lawsuit for dissolution of their marriage and a hefty property settlement. That was going to put a crimp in any plans requiring money.
Distracted by the new lawsuit, he failed to think through all issues regarding old Mr. Ortega. In addition to being the owner of Vulcan Systems, he was the inventor and patent holder of the systems that made it work so well. The security system was the best, and Borstad had every reason to expect All Cities would continue to buy them for properties they managed, even after he bought Vulcan. All Borstad knew about Mr. Ortega was true, but often it is what you don’t know that will hurt you.
Mr. Ortega was a faithful vendor, a competent and fair businessman. He had been a victim of Borstad’s supplier mandate, placed in service back when Keating was CFO of All Cities. The written policy of the firm was to negotiate the purchase price as cheaply as possible. Not unfair. Then, after performing the service or delivering the product, stall the vendor on payment for as long as possible, sometimes several calendar quarters. This was grossly unfair. When the poor vendor finally demanded the money due him, it was policy to reduce the purchase price again to induce a check from All Cities. This was totally unilaterally unethical SOP, Standard Operating Procedure, was immoral behavior, and Borstad liked it because he invented it.
Mr. Ortega never appreciated this treatment. Who would? When a big customer like All Cities delayed his payments, he often used his personal savings to keep current with his own suppliers. He would never allow anyone who did business with him to suffer this same outrage. He paid his bills on time and took discounts offered for early payment. He wished everyone would be as considerate. When he got a call from Borstad about meeting to discuss Vulcan Systems, he was curious to see what new pain this man had in mind for him.
The meeting was held in a hotel conference room in Jacksonville. The man who caused Mr. Ortega so much grief over the years was solicitous and polite. After very little small talk, Borstad presented a written proposal to buy Vulcan Systems. It included assurances he would continue to operate the company in the future, as did Mr. Ortega now. The offered price was low, but overall, not a bad place to start the negotiations for his company, Ortega thought. He sat quietly and allowed Borstad to make his presentation. When Borstad finished, Mr. Ortega asked humbly if he might have a few days to consider the offer.
“Of course, my friend. I assume you need time to think about selling your life’s work. Take until next week. I wanted to meet you in person to assure you your company will pass to skilled hands and that your life’s work will continue to be what you have so ably created. Please call me when you wish to speak again. I am at your service.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Borstad. I appreciate your understanding and courtesy,” the old man told him.
Borstad wasn’t going to feel bad about taking advantage of this poor old Cuban. He possibly has had a tough life, I’m sure, but he obviously has no idea of the value of the company and its many patents. Maybe he’s what some people call an undocumented alien, or what I call a “wetback.” Who knows? Who cares? As long as he’s the legal business owner and may sell it to me, I’m in good shape, Borstad reasoned, leaving the building. He felt sure Ortega would accept his offer, so he began to make plans for his new venture.
Larry Rubens’ chauffeur drove him in his Mercedes limo to the law offices of Slocum and Rubens, Attorneys at Law. He’d made partner in the firm the hard way, with the help of several friends in high places that used the “ol’ cram-down” technique to his benefit. As a law firm partner, Larry enjoyed all the rights and privileges pertaining thereto. The rights amounted to an old wooden desk—rejected by Goodwill—sitting next to a dirty second-floor window, which was painted shut. An ancient air conditioner sprouted in its maw. Rubens needed to keep a clean desk, because anything he left on top of the damn thing would be blown all over the room. The first of his partner privileges each day was to mop up the condensation that constantly dripped onto the desk from the aging and wheezing appliance.
Rubens sat at his mildewed desk and thought about the day’s discussion with his brother. When Bennie pays me my share, I’m blowing this pop-stand in a heartbeat. Nobody is looking for me—aah, I mean, Dallas. Bennie must take me for a fool. He’s willing to split the insurance with me, fat chance. He knew Bennie made a ton of cash shorting the REIT stocks of the firms merged into CapVest. When news hit that the CEO had been killed, the firm’s stock went south. He did this how many times? Three, that ol’ Lar knew about personally. Now, I’m no dummy. I figured that play out after I saw what Bennie did in his trading accounts after Burke. Slocum’s office is a dump, but the trading account software works real good. He thinks I blew the eight hundred. Sure, I bought a few rounds at the Anchor Chain, but the eight is now close to one point two million, thank you very much. With Bennie’s three more, I’m out of here, for parts unknown and, oh yeah, woman, bring that beautiful body over here to your daddy, darlin’!
Then Larry thought of the other hand. What if his little brother decided to screw him out of his share? Yeah, Bennie boy would do that. His brother would quickly figure out that having three mil in the bank is a lot better than a brother in the wind. Bennie would have to kill him because he knows Larry would most assuredly come after him for the screwing. Larry would have to do this thing just right. This is a zero sum game, and there will be only one winner.
Larry thought through the different scenarios some more. Thinking wasn’t his strongest talent, but he did the best he was capable. You really need to respect a man who does his best, right? He picked up the phone and called a farm equipment company in Israel.
Twenty-six
“I find that a great part of the information I have acquired was by looking up something and finding something else on the way.” ~ Franklin P. Adams
MIDWEEK—DECEMBER | Incline Village was snowed in. A heavy, wet Canadian snowstorm pelted the Northern Sierra for five days. Phone lines were down and power had been out for most of that time. Jules had news for Tommy and Wainwright and was eager to share it, now that phone service was restored. He reached Tommy in Newport Beach. Wainwright was out of his office and not answering at home, so Tommy would have to second-hand the information to him.
Before the storm blew in, Jules had spoken with the head of the insurance company fraud unit. He described the letter the CapVest HR department faxed to Wainwright. The question was twofold: 1) Why was there an addendum policy written by Bennie for Burke, Clyburn, and Keating? and 2) Who controls the Bahamian Trust Company, beneficiary of those policies?
Jules was upset that as agent of record he was not informed of the additional policies. The investigator said since their records showed both Jules and Bennie as agents for Hockney, Jarvis & Rubens, accepting an addendum policy from that agency for an already insured was not a break in protocol.
“Hey, Jules, remember we are in the business of selling this stuff. The more the merrier,” the company official told him on the phone. The department functionary said after a policy was accepted, about all they verify was the agency maintains active insurance licenses with the State of Washington before issuing a commission check. Jules readily admitted he wouldn’t know which commissions he received were related to what policies or if they were the correct amount or not.
As to the matter of the Bahamian Trust Company, the beneficiary for all the partner’
s addendum policies, the insurance rep had no information. Routine insurance investigation is concerned primarily with the insured’s health and the truthfulness on the application.
The official said to Jules, “When an insured departs, Jules, we cut a check and aren’t too concerned about where it gets mailed.”
Jules told Tommy, “Bottom line is, they don’t know and don’t care who the beneficiary is. Bennie wrote the addendum app, so my guess is he has a hand in the trust. I called Yolanda this morning when we got phone service back. She never heard of the trust, and said she and Bennie had been to Bahama once, a long time ago. She said Bennie has split, gone, vamoosed. He didn’t come home. This Friday will be a week gone, and she has no idea where he is or what he may be doing. She’s submitted a missing person’s report with the Bellevue PD. It’s kind of funny, you know? She didn’t seem to be too put out with him being missing.
“They think he’s a runaway since they found his Mercedes in a parking garage in the city. The garage operator called the cops to tow it because the space was only paid for the day he disappeared, and it was in the stall for several days beyond that. They didn’t think a classic like that would be abandoned, so they theorize he either was kidnapped or ran away. Personally, I vote for the latter. That’s what I’d do if I were married to Yolanda Rubens.”
“Jules, shame on you!” June called from across the room.
“Well, I would. Thank the good Lord you aren’t anything like Yolanda.”
Tommy was making notes rapidly so he could accurately relay them to Wainwright. “The information from the insurance company will help some. Garth has a call in to Greg Mulholland. We want to dovetail what he already knows with the information we are getting on the murders. I’m hoping Greg can make the FBI team that gets this job. We’ll know that soon enough. Thank you for your help, pal. We’ll be in touch.”
Amiti had only to move the hands of his wristwatch one hour to change to local time, but the flight was a daylong persecution in cramped space, bad air, and poor food, with three airports and two plane changes. The terrible flight that originated in Tel Aviv finally landed at Freeport, on the Grand Bahama Island. Amiti had to think for a second. When did I last use this passport? The stamps will show…what city was I in? At Immigration and Customs, he presented the passport of Gambol Schwartz, a German national on holiday on the island. The last stamp was from INS in Denver, Colorado, USA.
When Amiti phoned Dallas to say he had arrived, they set a meeting for Wednesday at a small restaurant near Dallas’ office. Dallas understood the Assassin would need a day to recover from jet lag and the peccadillos of international travel. After this assignment, the Assassin would need to recover from Dallas, but that would wait.
Their second week in paradise started with the most beautiful sunrise Bennie ever experienced. BJ was still sleeping, and she wouldn’t want that interrupted just to gaze at the sun coming up. He’d have liked to share it with her, but BJ was cranky in the mornings. It took her about an hour and two cups of coffee to get her daytime head on straight. Let her sleep, he thought. There’ll be other sunrises we will watch together.
Bennie stood by the open French doors, his coffee cup in hand, inhaling the Caribbean morning breeze. Wow, how great is Mother Nature. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the beauty before him. The clouds that looked gray when he awoke had turned pink and the sea was as vivid a blue-green as the jungle leaves surrounding the hotel grounds. The sky now looked more pink-purple…the light was awesome, clearly some shade in the purple range. As pretty as the view was he had to leave. Bennie had things to do, people to see, and deals to make. Today he would eliminate the thing that has bugged him his whole life—and keep three million bucks in the bargain.
His brother’s new law partner was one of several Bahamian lawyers known to Bennie. While working to get his older brother established in partnership with a law firm in the Bahamas, he’d surreptitiously asked Joseph McKenzie to identify several likely candidate firms on the island. McKenzie, Walsh and Stone was the large Seattle firm that handled much of CapVest’s outside legal work. Come to think about it, that bastard Larry has never thanked me for setting him up as a partner with Slocum. Ingrate!
Bennie spent some productive time in pursuit of a hired gun on the island. His travels took him from some of the nicest parts of Freeport and into some of the shabbiest. At one of the better retailers he took time to buy his beloved BJ a small gift. He was as excited about giving her the jewelry as he was to find the man he needed to kill his brother. With his errands run, Bennie returned to the hotel.
On the way to the elevators, Bennie passed the windows overlooking the swimming pool and saw BJ sunning on the deck. She seemed unaware of the spectators her beautiful bikini body beckoned. Bennie didn’t like to admit he was jealous of men staring at his girlfriend, but he was. He thought, he’d best hurry and change into his swimming trunks and join the beautiful BJ before one of those apes pick her up and run off. The way they’re leering at her, he didn’t have all that much time. He’d present her with the gift at the pool. Hell, maybe she already knows about it, what with all the psychic readings she buys.
The house phone was on a small table in the elevator lobby. He dialed room service and ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon be sent to Mrs. Dannenberg at the pool.
“Two flutes, please, and a note: ‘I’ll be with you before the waiter pours. Avery.’ Thank you so much.”
Short of stature but with the build of a weightlifter, Bennie wouldn’t have been mistaken poolside (or on a sandy beach) for a ninety-pound weakling. Bennie was buff and confident in all things. A poolside altercation was not something he’d give a second of concern. He took the lounger next to BJ. The opened bottle of champagne and the two flutes rested on the small table between them.
“When I came in, it looked like you were entertaining your fan club out here.”
“No, a couple of those young fellows at the deep end tried to start a conversation, but I didn’t encourage them so they went away. You must have come by at just that time.”
BJ turned on to her side, her back to Bennie. “What? Are you worried about my safety or my faithfulness, Huggy Bear? All in all, it’s been a very quiet afternoon. So how did your day go?”
“Just peachy. I got all the stuff on my to-do list done, so I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”
BJ did a 180, now facing Bennie on his lounger. “I’m glad you had a good day, Huggy Bear, but you said ‘for the rest of the day.’ Are you proclaiming you’re only mine just for today?”
“A figure of speech, my dear. It was simply a figure of speech. But speaking of figures, yours is most attractive. Is that a new swimsuit?”
“Do you like it?” She stood and did an amazing ballerina entrechat-quatre which was appreciated by more than just Bennie. “I found this cute little shop not far from here. She designs and makes all her own things. I just love ’em. I had a hard time trying to pick one out of all those I liked. But I thought you’d like this one the best. It does show off my figure pretty well, huh?”
“Pretty well is not the modifier I’d have used. But yes, I agree, it does gild the lily all right. Not that your beautiful bod needs gilding of any kind. You, dear heart, are marvelous to behold and to each of my appreciative senses—anything the eye can identify, the tongue taste, or the palms palpitate. You are perfect in every way. Oh, speaking of perfect…” Bennie reached into his man purse for the small gift-wrapped box and handed it to BJ. “I hope this trifle will make up for my leaving you all alone today.”
BJ sat up straight and straddled the lounger. Her tight bikini bottom molded to the intimate details of her anatomy. It was a BJ thing. You’d swear she was unaware of the provocative show between her thighs, or maybe she was, but Bennie was aware, focusing his eyes like lasers while BJ opened her present.
“Oh, Benn…” Catching herself just in time to correct his name, “…Avery, this is so beautiful. I love it. I truly do love it. Thank yo
u, baby.”
“Maybe you can express those emotions better in our suite. I know I can respond more appropriately up there. Is that enough sun for you?”
“Yes, Huggy Bear, I’ve had enough.”
“Well, Huggy Bear hasn’t had any today, let alone enough. Let’s go fix that!”
BJ loved the bracelet and, back in the penthouse, showed her gratitude unreservedly. Spent, Bennie lay on his back next to her. She was curled around him, her head on his shoulder, one leg across both of his and her left arm sporting the new bracelet draped across his chest. They hadn’t spoken since she last exclaimed, “YES, YES” to the ceiling above their bed.
“Bennie, you are so good to me.”
“You’re very easy to be good to, sweetheart. Try to remember to call me Avery, though. That was a close one at the pool just now.”
“You’ve been Bennie to me a whole lot longer than you have been Avery. Okay, okay. I am trying to remember, but it’s hard, you know?”
“Not anymore it’s not. And for that I thank you very much.”
BJ slammed her fist gently into his chest. “Oh, you know what I mean, silly!”
“Oh! I had not yet mentioned something. I’ve asked my attorney to set up three trusts accounts, one each for my daughters, whom I may never see again, and one for you, who I hope to see every day for the rest of my life.”
“You did? Don’t we have to be married for me to have a trust account?”
“No, we don’t, but since all my assets will be in the name of The Avery Dannenberg Family Trust, it would be a good idea for us to get married. Let’s do some forward planning about that after dinner tonight, okay?”
Mystery and Suspense:The Tipping Point: A mystery thriller full of intrigue about greed, fraud and murder... (International Mystery: Book 1) Page 24
