Deadly Game

by R. B. Conroy

  Alex’s smacked his lips, the ice rattled as he set the empty glass on the table. “So, the only one who sees these entries is Jack Montrose?”

  “That’s right, but he’s supposed to share that information with us.”

  “Let me guess—he hasn’t been doing that.”

  “That’s correct. But that’s not the worst of it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  Alex sighed, a long groaning sigh.

  “For the remaining few hours of the day, I was able to examine literally dozens of IRA’s using the code.”

  “Montrose was working on the same group of accounts, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, so I used account numbers that were at the other end of the spectrum from the account number I discovered at the cooler. He was definitely watching me, but he didn’t really know what I was doing.”

  “How did you get the code without him knowing?”

  “From a slender, giggly, nineteen year old teller named Arial. She knows I’m the bank’s auditor, so she thought it was her job to help.”

  “We’re you able to gather any more information?”

  “Did I ever!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, almost half of the accounts I checked had been tampered with. Using the code, they took money from the accounts late summer of last year and then put it back in at various times starting early this year. Judging by Montrose’s frequent visits to the office, I’m sure the process is still going on.”

  Alex stood and walked to the kitchen to mix another drink. “Pardon the ice machine Josh; I think I’m going to get drunk.”

  Josh laughed nervously, “No problem, I might do the same.”

  Alex filled his glass and set the empty bottle of tonic water on the countertop. “How much money are we talking about?”

  “Most of the accounts I’ve seen were carrying substantial balances, usually well over one hundred thousand dollars and typically five or ten thousand dollars had been removed. In a few cases, it was twenty thousand. There was no rhyme or reason to the amount of the withdrawals. But based on the information I have gleaned so far and projecting this information out across the broad base of accounts in this category, I would say that we are looking at possibly tens of millions of dollars being extracted from these accounts. This game they’re playing looks big, Alex—very big!”

  The shocked bank president leaned against the counter. “Oh, wow! How much has been paid back?”

  “I’m not sure. The accounts I examined had all been paid back, but I’ve only scratched the surface. I found a motel and will be staying up here tonight. It will be another day or two before I get through all of the accounts. Louie said I could work through the weekend. He’s been a great help.”

  “I’ll bet. Just put anything you need on our tab.”

  “Thanks, but I expected the worst with these surprise audits, so I have extra clothes and toiletries with me.”

  Suddenly, Alex felt warm; he began to perspire. “I just can’t understand why they would go to all the trouble to take the money out and then pay it back.”

  “Whenever people extort money, they usually plan to pay it back, but it rarely ever happens. In this case, it’s happening—too early to tell why.”

  Alex scratched his head, “Hmmm….it doesn’t make sense.”

  “These kinds of things never do at first.”

  “I guess so. Please keep in touch. I will have my cell with me at all times.”

  “Okay, Alex.”

  There was a long pause. “We must keep all of this confidential. This information will explode if the media gets wind of it. We need to stay as discreet as possible until we can gather enough evidence to make our case.”

  “No question about it,” Josh replied. “Stay in touch.”

  “Okay, good-bye.”

  Alex ambled across the room and fell back in his chair. His head was buzzing. He felt certain that the situation in Chicago was the product of another scheme by his chairman, Barnes O’Brien. After all, the point-man, Jack Montrose, was hand-picked by Barnes. But why take the money and pay it back?

  Alex felt helpless and frustrated. He had watched the opportunistic Barnes use his position as chairman to become a player of great power and influence at Midwest Consolidated, far beyond that of a typical chairman. Barnes had managed, in a little over two years, to swing control of the vote on the board to his side. He had also managed to bring a controller on board who seemed to work more for him than for Alex. And, in a clandestine move while Alex was out of the country on vacation, he succeeded in changing the basic mortgage underwriting guidelines at Midwest allowing for subprime mortgages.

  These moves angered Alex, but what angered him most was that Barnes had been able to do all this right under his nose and without breaching any federal or state banking regulations. That is, until now. Barnes may have finally reached too far. The embezzlement of funds from private savings accounts was indeed a serious violation of Federal regulations. The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile, as he sipped on his vodka and contemplated possible negative ramifications this would have for his long-time nemesis. “A little jail time might do the old lout some good,” he whispered. His thoughts were interrupted by his phone.

  “Hello Barnes, I was just thinking about you.”

  The reply was swift and sharp, “What the hell is Dulin doing snooping around in Chicago and why wasn’t that audit cleared by the board?”

  The aggressive comment angered Alex. “That’s none of your business, Barnes. I’m running this bank—not you!”

  “That’s BS, Alex! A surprise audit at our largest office is definitely the business of the board. You should have at least called to inform me.” Alex could hear a muffled ‘son-of-a-bitch’ on the other end.

  “That’s a ridiculous assertion on its face, Barnes. There is no bank policy that requires me to inform the board about every audit that takes place. The board discusses the annual federal, state, and internal audits each year in January and sets a tentative schedule. What happens after that is entirely up to me. Besides, Montrose has been running up there all year without your blessed ‘board approval’ and I haven’t heard you complaining about that.” Alex’s frustration was growing.

  “You’re out of line here, Crane, and you know it.”

  “I know no such thing! And by the way, Barnes—how did you happen to know about this audit in the first place? I didn’t tell anyone and I’m certain Josh didn’t.”

  There was a pause, followed by a throat clearing, “Why…I…uh ran into Jack at…uh CVS a little while ago. He was getting some beer for the weekend. We’re neighbors you know.”

  “Oh, is that right?” Alex was incredulous. “Let me get this straight. Jack stopped at the drug store to get a six-pack of beer after a long, hard week of work. He runs into the Chairman of the Board on his way to the check-out counter and before you know it, he‘s telling you about an audit that Josh Dulin was doing in Chicago today. Wouldn’t a quick “hi” and “how are you” seem more logical?”

  “Well…uh I don’t know. He was just talking I guess.”

  “I don’t believe you ran into him at the drug store Barnes. I think he called you on his way home, which is totally out of line for a man in his position. The controller answers directly to me. To divulge such confidential information to a board member behind my back is reason for possible dismissal.”

  “Now listen here, Alex. You can’t fire a man just for talking to me. He knows I’m interested in what is going on at the bank. He was just making small talk there at the convenience store.”

  “I thought it was a drug store.”

  “Well, drug store, convenience store, what the hell’s the difference?”

  Alex loved having the aggressive Barnes on the defensive, but he was bluffing with the dismissal threat. He needed Jack Montrose right where he was until he could get to the bottom of this deception.

  “I’m very concerned ab
out the level of involvement of my chairman in the day to day operations of this bank, it doesn’t seem healthy to me. You’ve got your nose in everything.”

  Alex could hear Barnes puffing nervously on his cigar. “Well, with all the losses we’re having and so forth, I just…uh was afraid something was going a little wrong in Chicago, that’s all.”

  “Your concern for our bank’s well-being is very touching, Barnes. But I would suggest, in the future, you leave the management of this bank up to me.”

  “Leave it up to you, yes. Well, I have to go now. Ellen and I are going out to dinner.” Barnes turned his phone off. The abrupt ending was Barnes’s way of saving face. Alex had put him back on his heels and he didn’t like it. But Alex knew that Barnes would stay very much involved in the bank’s business—now more than ever.

  The next several days would be difficult for everyone. The recently discovered scheme was like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Alex felt sick inside as he turned on the TV and contemplated the future. As the picture beamed in, he was momentarily distracted from his troubling situation by loud applause as the crowd, surrounding the beautiful tenth green, cheered for a smiling Phil Mickelson. The popular pro golfer lifted a putt from the hole, nodded at the appreciative crowd and walked quickly to the next tee. “He plays a simple game and then goes home,” Alex groused. “I envy him.”

  Chapter 10

  “Ever see so much corn?” Nicky laughed as she sat in the front seat working on her latest knitting project.

  Alex adjusted the collar on his golf shirt and turned down the radio. “It’s good to get away for a few days.”

  Nicky’s hands dropped to her lap, she smiled at her husband. “It certainly is. I just love going up to the lake; it’s so relaxing. And with all that is going on at the office, you needed to get the hell out of Dodge for awhile.”

  A broad grin spread across Alex’s face, surprised by the locker-room epithet from his prim and proper wife.

  “Look honey, there’s someone at the wishing well!” Nicky exclaimed.

  Alex glanced over at the ancient well that sat just off the road about fifty feet from an old bait shop. A man in a crumpled ball cap and black waders was holding a milk cartoon in his left hand while cranking vigorously on the well-rusted handle with his right hand.

  Available to the public, many of the fishermen, who rented the one room cabins that dotted the shorelines of nearby lakes, used the well as a source of drinking water. The old cabins, many of which were constructed in the early part of the twentieth century, were often without running water, leaving the occupants to their own devices. But for Nicky and Alex, the well was not a source of water, but the exciting symbol of their entry into the beloved lake region of northern Indiana, and more importantly, it reminded them that they were only ten minutes from their final destination, Lake Wawasee.

  “Not much longer,” Alex mused. Still shaken by the revelations from Josh Dulin the night before, he was really looking forward to some time away.

  “I know, I’m getting excited.” Nicky quickly went back to her knitting, wanting the last few minutes to pass as quickly as possible.

  As was the custom in the hospitable Indiana, Alex nodded and smiled at many of the vacationers as he drove through North Webster, a popular resort community, just south of Lake Wawasee. A few minutes later, their turn was in sight.

  “South Shore looks busy.”

  Nicky smiled and looked over at the legendary golf course that pushed in against Highway 13. “Sure is. Maybe you can get a game with Al Fox and the boys. The grandkids won’t be here until Saturday evening.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Don’t worry about me, honey. Millie called me yesterday and invited me to go to Shipshewana for some shopping with her and the girls tomorrow. So, you’re on your own.”

  Alex squirmed as he turned right onto Vawter Park Road. “Well…uh actually, Al called me yesterday also. We have a tee time at South Shore at noon tomorrow.”

  “You rascal,” Nicky poked him playfully.

  A short time later, the turn signal chimed as Alex turned left and guided the SUV up the narrow drive to their large lake home. He stopped just outside the open garage door as was his custom. Nicky was the first one out of the car with Alex close behind. They both stood, as was their custom also, and admired their lovely home for a few seconds before unpacking. Nicky breathed deeply, wanting to inhale as much of the fresh lake air as humanly possible. Then, not unexpectedly, they heard the somewhat over-exaggerated squeals of neighbor Millie as she came rushing past the stone landscaping wall next to the garage, her thin arms open wide for the coming hug.

  “How are you? Oh my goodness! So good to see you both! You look wonderful!” Then, much to Nicky’s annoyance—as usual—she hugged Alex first, a long, hard hug. ‘I’m on the driver’s side he would always say. I’m the first one she comes to.’

  After a much shorter hug, Millie and Nicky began talking about their shopping trip to the Amish settlement at Shipshewana the next day.

  “It will be wonderful tomorrow, Nicky. They’ve opened two new shops recently. One is a kitchen shop—your favorite!”

  “Oh great!” Nicky exclaimed. “I can’t wait.”

  “What’s Larry up too?” Alex asked.

  “He’s out fishing, what else? I swear, I feel like the man has a mistress out there on that lake somewhere, with all that fishing he does. Oh well, I guess there are worse things he could be doing.”

  “That’s for sure.” Alex stood politely quiet next to the open rear hatch on the SUV. Anxious to unpack, Nicky stood quietly also.

  Getting the hint, Millie spoke, “Well…uh, I best be going. I’ve got lots to do.” After a quick departing hug for both, the slender neighbor started home. She stopped suddenly near the edge of the drive and turned around. “Oh, by the way, are you guys expecting company?”

  Alex paused while reaching for the suitcases. “The kids are coming up Saturday evening. Why do you ask?” Nicky peered over the hood of the SUV.

  “Well, two men in a black sedan pulled in to your drive earlier this morning. They got out of their car looked around briefly. They were dressed in suits. They looked like businessmen. One of them was writing notes on a pad. I thought maybe it was company that got here a little early or something.”

  “Hmmm….that’s funny. We’re not expecting anyone but the kids. I can’t imagine who that might have been,” Alex mused.

  “Did the car have those dark windows?” Nicky asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I think so. I hear my phone, I’d better get going. See ya tomorrow!”

  Nicky looked quickly at Alex, eyebrows raised.

  “What?” he replied.

  “Black sedan, dark windows.”

  “I heard the county is doing assessments for property taxes here. It was probably the folks from the assessor’s office.”

  “The last assessor I ran into was wearing a ball cap and a golf shirt. Millie said these guys were wearing suits. “

  “Quit worrying, honey; we’re up here to have a good time, alright?”

  “Okay, okay.” She slid the suitcase off the tailgate and grunted slightly as she lifted the heavy case with both hands and struggled to the front door. A suitcase in each hand Alex hurried ahead and firmly planted his knee against the front door, holding it open.

  “Dinner at The Frog tonight? We can take the woody.”

  Nicky paused, giving her smiling husband a quick peck on the cheek. “I love The Frog. You know that.”

  “Good, after we unpack, I’ll go down and get the old boat uncovered and start it up. We can be at The Frog by 7:30.”

  “Wonderful, my dear!”

  ………

  The sleek Chris-Craft woody banged against the waves as a smiling Alex, his hair blowing wildly in the stiff breeze, guided the ancient boat across beautiful Lake Wawasee. Wawasee was Indiana’s largest natural lake at more than three thousand acres. It had a fully developed shoreli
ne that included the homes of some of the wealthiest people in the country. Property on the exclusive lake, known for its crystal clear water, sold for over fifteen thousand dollars a front foot. So a home with a hundred feet touching the lake would be valued at approximately one and one half million dollars. It was an intoxicatingly wealthy area that had attracted Indiana’s best and brightest for well over a hundred years.

  “Slow down, honey,” Nicky shouted. “Let’s enjoy the ride.”

  Alex shoved the throttle arm down; the bow of the boat suddenly dipped and then surged forward, eventually settling in the lake. A few seconds later, the backwash gently nudged the boat forward. The powerful engine made a thick chugging sound as it settled in at idle speed and moved slowly through the choppy lake. The old wooden boats or “woodies”, as the locals called them, were the only boats on the lake that could make such a sound and Alex loved it. They were the original speed boats on the lake and held a special place in the hearts of the lake’s residents.

  A short time later, the lights of the legendary Frog Tavern glowed ahead as Alex approached the mouth of the narrow channel that led to the popular eatery.

  “There’s a place over there.” Nicky pointed to an empty spot at the north end of the long pier that bordered the restaurant. An expert boatman, Alex glided forward and carefully maneuvered the beloved woody into the narrow spot. He tossed a looped rope over the large wooden post, jumped out of the tipsy boat and reached back for Nicky, who was busy yanking the rope tight on the rear post.

  Inside, the popular haunt was buzzing with activity. Carol, their favorite waitress, approached.

  “Table for four okay with you guys? Don’t have any twos,” the waitress shouted over the noisy crowd.

  “That’s fine, Carol,” Nicky replied.

  Alex nodded at a few familiar faces as the waitress led them to their table, laying the one page menu on the table in front of them. “How you two doing?” the harried waitress asked.