Deadly Game

by R. B. Conroy

  Parking in his reserved spot, Vito hurried inside. He hoped he could make it to his office near the front of the building without being stopped by one of his secretaries or young associates. With everything that was coming down, he needed the respite of his cluttered office to make a few very timely phone calls.

  As he hurried toward his office, the large open area was buzzing with activity. The big board, stationed high above the room on the east wall, was the center of attention for many of the coatless brokers as they looked skyward from their small desks to see if there had been any changes since they looked at the board just a few minutes earlier. Other brokers talked animatedly on the phone with prospective buyers and sellers, hoping to land that one big deal that could move them from their small condos in downtown Indy to the more exclusive enclaves of Carmel and Zionsville on the north side. With the recent blow-up of the bond market and the impending new regulations by the feds, time was running out for these wannabe dealers as they sought their fortunes in the fast-paced world of securities dealing.

  Vito’s hopes of clear sailing to his office were interrupted at the last second by a shout from his office manager, Cliff Stone.

  “Oh, Vito.”

  “The anxious owner stopped by the door to his office and turned to face the fast-approaching manager, “Yes Cliff?”

  “Got a minute? Something has come-up.”

  “Can it wait? I have some important calls to make.”

  The young man grimaced, “I don’t think so boss. I think we better talk now.”

  Vito paused and took a deep breath, “Great, now what?” he mumbled. “Come on in.”

  The two men entered Vito’s very messy office. Piles of green file folders were stacked on the guest chairs, on both corners of his desk and on top of the file cabinets on the back wall. The total lack of organization in his office would be a total embarrassment for most businessmen, but it didn’t seem to bother Vito. He lifted a few of the files from the chair in front of his desk and asked his manager to sit down.

  “What is it, Cliff?”

  Cliff quickly took a seat as Vito dropped the files on his desk and nestled into his large leather chair.

  “I’m here about the Blue and Gates request for the branch filings boss.”

  “Yes…yes, what about them?”

  “We can’t find Chicago.”

  Anything but Chicago, Vito thought. Eyes wide, he shot up in his seat and shouted, “You can’t find what? What the hell are you talking about?”

  Cliff spoke quickly, “It’s gone, its not there. We’ve looked everywhere.”

  “You’ve looked everywhere?”

  “Yes, it’s not here. I’m telling you boss, it’s not here.”

  Vito shook his head in disbelief, “We’ve done more than 600 million out of that office this year my boy! A legal firm is asking to audit our files from that office and we can’t find the branch applications we sent to the SEC! Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Cliff sunk down in his chair. “I’m afraid so.”

  Vito stood and began pacing back and forth behind his desk. “Alex Crane is on a mission to discredit me and we can’t produce the most basic of information. Why, it has to be here. I remember signing the request form.”

  Not looking at his boss, Stone opened the file in his hand. “Yes…yes you did. It’s right here.”

  He lifted the form from the file and handed it to Vito. “But that’s all we have. There are no market studies, no empirical data on population trends, industrial capacity, and so forth.”

  “Can’t we do that now and backdate everything?”

  “I asked Jason, in our accounting department, about doing just that and he said it would take weeks to gather that kind of information, especially since it pertains to conditions that existed more that a year and a half ago. And Alex wants copies of the applications in a few days.”

  Vito stopped in front of his chair. “Did you ask Jason to explain just how the hell this happened?”

  “Well…uh yes, sort of. Jason said that….”

  Vito interrupted. “Sort of!”

  “Well…uh, yes I did.”

  “Damn it, Cliff—spit it out!”

  “Uh…he said that Chicago was one of the last branches to be approved. Our SEC connection had approved the other applications sight-unseen. Jason was certain that the SEC wasn’t even looking at the files that we sent them. And with so many things on his plate at the time, Jason never got around to sending in the documentation for branch approval for Chicago. We received an approval form via e-mail that included the branch number. You signed it and Jason put it in the file.”

  Vito shook his head, “We have no way out of this. We have no paper trail showing attempts to process the information for the file! We have no e-mail records showing that we had sent the requested information to the SEC. This is unbelievable.”

  “I have an idea, boss.”

  Vito stopped his ranting and looked hopefully at his young assistant. “Go on.”

  “Well, the way I look at it, the SEC has just as much to lose as we do. They are going to have to explain how they gave a branch approval for a large securities dealer without receiving the necessary documentation. It usually takes months and years to get branch approval. It all smacks of political cronyism, which could reflect very badly on the Chairman of the SEC and eventually on the President. If this leaks out, the media would have a field day.”

  Vito coughed nervously. “Good point. Go ahead.”

  “I would suggest that we stall Alex as long as we can—just tell him we are trying to obtain some necessary documentation from the SEC and they are not cooperating. That will buy us a little time. Then, in the meantime, we could have Jason contact our man at the SEC and explain our predicament and ask him if he has any ideas on how we can deal with this problem. Something tells me he will come up with a solution.”

  Vito spoke quietly, almost to himself. “Alex will be very suspicious; he knows how these things work. But it’s far better to have him wondering why we’re stalling than to have him know the truth. It could be, that at the end of the day, nothing will happen. Alex may threaten us, but it’s highly unlikely that a banker from Indiana-polis will try and take on the Federal Government.”

  Vito leaned over and punched a button on his office phone and lifted the receiver to his ear.

  “Yes, Mr. Taglioni?”

  “Claudia, get Jason Howard in here right away!”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good thinking, Cliff. We’ll just throw the ball into the SEC’s court and let Crane fight with them. What the hell—the Government has more to lose than we do.”

  Cliff got up from his chair as the door to the office swung open and Jason Howard, Vice-President and Controller, walked hastily over to Vito’s desk. His hand was shaking as he reached toward Cliff for a shake, “Afternoon, Cliff.”

  “Good afternoon, Jason.”

  After a quick shake, Jason lifted his hand toward Vito. “Hello Mr. Taglioni. I didn’t know your were back in the office.” He quickly withdrew his hand when Vito, sporting an ugly scowl, refused the gesture.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Howard? What stupid-ass kind of tortured logic led us to this? Explain yourself man! Explain yourself!”

  Vito knew the basic premise of Jason’s failure to document the file; Cliff had just explained it to him. But his insecurities really consumed him at times like this and he became an ugly bully. He wanted very much to humiliate Jason in front of Cliff for two reasons: one, he knew that Cliff would tell others in the office about his tirade and it would put the fear of God in them and two, he wanted to absolve himself from any responsibility.

  Vito knew that he was a weak president, very seldom in the ‘shop’, as he called it. He knew very little about the day to day operations of his firm, leaving all management decisions to Jason and Cliff. He chose instead to spend much of his time gambling at Crooked Stick Country Club and frequenting local gentlemen’
s clubs, such as the Gold Club and Club Venus. Sins of the flesh were commanding more and more of Vito’s time lately, leaving little time or energy for the hands-on management of First Financial. He was lashing out at Jason to send a message to anybody who might challenge his authority. It was a quality that even Vito despised about himself, but he was too self-absorbed and cowardly to change.

  “I’m truly sorry, Vito. It’s just that the SEC wasn’t putting any pressure on us at all. It was obvious the required documentation wasn’t a priority for them, and with all that was going on around here, I didn’t get the file completed.”

  Drops of saliva flew as an angry Vito continued to berate and demean the terrified young man. “You idiot! Do you realize what you have done? This thing goes clear up to the President of the United States!”

  Jason’s legs pushed harder against the desk, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. “Maybe…uh Cliff and I can come up with some way out of this mess.”

  “Cliff and I, Cliff and I,” Vito spoke with a childlike refrain, mimicking his young controller. He suddenly jumped up and leaned forward; his face was only inches away for the terrified young man. He spoke in a low groaning whisper. Cliff stood motionless next to Jason, eyes wide with anticipation. “If we weren’t so busy, I’d fire your ass right now and let you go out and find another job that paid you two hundred grand a year, but I can’t. I hate to say it, but I need your worthless ass right now.”

  Jason stood quietly, legs shaking.

  Vito stepped back, “Fortunately for you, Cliff has come up with a plan that might work and I want you two to get to work on it right away.”

  Jason spun toward Cliff looking slightly confused. His eyes begged more information. Cliff smiled and shook his head in the affirmative at his good friend. “We’re going to put the ball in the Commission’s court. I can explain it to you in my office.” He shot a glance toward Vito for approval to leave.

  The malevolent boss shook his head. “Even though we have a plan, this thing is a hell of a long way from over and it’s going to raise all kind of red flags with the Midwest attorneys. I want a report everyday on how things are going. If I’m not here, call or text me on my BlackBerry. I want this thing fixed! Now, get the hell out of here—both of you!”

  Cliff turned and gently laid his hand on Jason’s shoulder. His friend and fellow officer’s dress shirt was soaked with perspiration. The two young men turned and walked slowly from Vito’s office, quietly clicking the door shut.

  Shaken by his cruel treatment of his young associate, Vito walked over to his office window and lifted the curtain back and stared aimlessly at the busy street scene below. A very conflicted man by nature, his eyes started to glaze over; a tear appeared in the corner of his eye and then rolled slowly down his cheek. “You rotten bastard.” he whispered.

  Chapter 9

  “Bye honey, I’ve got bridge tonight.”

  Alex felt a quick peck on his cheek as he entered the kitchen. Nicky snatched her purse off a nearby bar stool and hurried toward the garage.

  “Who’s your partner tonight?”

  “Jeannie, Sharon’s on vacation.”

  “Oh boy, see ya at midnight.”

  Nicky paused by the door, “I know, she’s a talker. There’s lunch meat in the refrig if you’re hungry and I’ve got things pretty well around for the weekend. You just need to pack your stuff and don’t forget your new swimming trunks.” She flashed a quick grin. “Sorry to leave you alone.”

  “That’s alright dear, don’t worry. A golf tournament is on TV tonight and Phil Mickelsen is leading, so take your time, let Jeannie feel her oats.” He smiled broadly.

  “Men!” she replied and then disappeared into the garage.

  Alex could hear the garage door rattle shut as he snatched a thick glass from the small cabinet above the refrigerator. A few seconds later, narrow cubes from the ice-maker jingled into the glass. He grabbed the bottle of vodka from the nearby counter and began pouring. He stopped pouring at half full and opened a small bottle of tonic water and filled the remainder of the glass. He dropped a chunk of lime in the glass, loosened his tie, hurried over to the family room and plopped into his favorite leather recliner. Yanking hard on the handle, his feet soon went horizontal. He reached for the nearby remote and settled in for a night of good TV. The PGA coverage would be starting in five minutes. With the remote in hand, he glanced at the shelving to the left of his TV. There was a recent picture of his son, Jarod, and his family, smiling and waving as they exited the boat after a day of tubing at the lake. His two grandkids, Katie and Eli, were eleven and seven respectively. He loved his family deeply and was glad that he was able to give them an exciting lake home to visit. The children couldn’t wait to go “up to the lake” to visit Grandma and Grandpa. He shuddered when he thought about the pending problems with Barnes and the board—problems that could threaten the very lifestyle to which he and his family had become accustomed. His iPhone chimed; he slid it from the holder and checked the screen before answering. He didn’t recognize the number and there was no other identifying information.

  “Hello?”

  “Uh….hello Alex, sorry for calling you at home—It’s Josh Dulin here. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Oh no, that fine, Josh. Always nice to talk with you—what’s up?”

  “Well, Ted Blue called yesterday and said that you wanted a surprise audit on your Chicago office as soon as possible. He said that you were concerned about the inordinate amount of attention that office had been given by your controller, Jack Montrose.

  “Yes, yes, Ted and I discussed the activity at the Chicago office and I did want the audit right away. I explained that to your secretary when she called to verify the request.”

  Alex was waiting for the hammer to fall. Josh Dulin was an extremely reserved man; he would not call Alex at his home in the evening if he didn’t have something very important to say.

  Josh cleared his throat, “You’re my biggest account Alex, so I wanted to take this one myself. I cleared my schedule yesterday and drove up to the Chicago office first thing this morning.”

  “Good.”

  “When I arrived, I received an unexpected greeting.”

  “From Louie?”

  “No, Jack Montrose was there.”

  “I know, he’s working on new software for the computers in the loan department on the other side of the building. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

  “Well, today at least, he wasn’t working in the loan department. He was back in the savings area. It was a little uncomfortable trying to set up shop. Out of professional courtesy, neither Jack nor I volunteered any information to the other. It was a little tense in there. He was very interested in what I was doing.”

  “Go on.”

  “Finally, his curiosity got the best of him. He walked over to where I was working in the corner of the room and said, “You’re kind of out of rotation, aren’t you?”

  “Jack knows when you schedule your audits, so he would be aware that this visit was off schedule. What did you say to him?” Alex mused.

  “I told him such surprise audits were pretty routine, no reason for concern.”

  “Did he buy that?”

  “Not really, he once again asked me what my visit was about and I gave him a standard non-answer answer. He continued to watch me the rest of the day. His obsession with me may have caused him to make a huge mistake.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I was doing some preliminary runs on the computer when Montrose came over by our work station, for the third time in less than an hour, to get a cup of water from the cooler. He set a couple files on the table next to me and turned toward the cooler. I took advantage of the opportunity to glance at the files.”

  “And?”

  “They were all 68 accounts.”

  “The 68’s are IRA’s if I remember correctly.”

  “Exactly. I was able to memorize a number on one of t
he files. When he left the area, I immediately jotted down the number. He had just inadvertently narrowed my search efforts dramatically.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I went to work on that account, along with several other similar IRAs. I combed over them, looking for anything out of the ordinary. But after several hours of trying to find something, I was at a dead end—nothing suspicious was showing up. Then, late in the day, I remembered something that the system analysts had told me last year when we first set up your new software. It was about a special code.”

  “A special code?”

  “Yes, there is a special code that the tellers can use to file maintain an IRA account when a simple mistake has been made when entering account information. This is unique to this software. I hadn’t seen it before, so subsequently, I had forgotten all about it.”

  “Why the code?”

  “The reason for the code is that IRAs are a lot more complicated and difficult to work with than normal savings accounts. So sometimes, underpaid and overworked tellers will make a minor mistake when entering the data—it happens on a fairly regular basis. The tellers just aren’t as comfortable with IRAs as they are with normal savings accounts. You can hear them grousing under their breath every time a customer mentions an IRA.

  “Yes, everyone hates IRAs. Go on.”

  “So to avoid a bunch of red flags clogging up the system as the result of some harmless mistakes, banks are provided with this code. Using it, a teller can pull the account information out, play around with it and then put it back in. Actually, they could transfer money from the account. The changes would go totally undetected—even during routine Federal audits. Such maintenance is not part of your normal data analysis so it wouldn’t show up.”

  “What about teller fraud? Couldn’t the teller use the special code for his or her advantage?”

  Josh chuckled, “You’re always one step ahead of me, Alex. But the answer is no. There is definitely oversight. Such entries must be provided to the controller of the institution on a daily basis on a special read-out that is separate from your system analysis. If there is anything that looks suspicious, he would catch it in a minute. Any teller that didn’t report such maintenance would be fired immediately.”