Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet

by Bill Thompson

  She handed him a business card, turned and joined her friend who was waiting by the front door.

  He walked to the bar. “Jason, do you know those girls?”

  The bartender said they worked nearby and came in for lunch every week or so.

  “I think the one who talked to you’s a lawyer. I know she’s a looker!”

  As he walked back to work, Brian read her card. She was Nicole Farber, an attorney with Carter and Wells, a firm so big its name was a household word in north Texas. If not the biggest law firm in the metroplex, it was certainly in the top three.

  A block from the office Brian made a decision. He sent a text message to Carl, advising he was taking the afternoon off. He walked to the garage, retrieved his car and drove home, heading straight for his computer. He was determined not to let fear overcome his reasoning.

  This is America, dammit. You’re innocent until proven guilty, and I haven’t done anything at WT&C that a hundred other guys haven’t done.

  First he went to Carter and Wells’ website. Scrolling down a list of several hundred names, he clicked on Nicole Farber’s. Her webpage appeared with a picture of her that was great but really didn’t do her justice, Brian thought. This girl was truly one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen – long blond hair, green eyes, maybe five foot five…he found his mind drifting, and forced himself back on the subject, glad for a brief interruption from the serious business he knew he faced.

  He checked the year Nicole Farber graduated from Southern Methodist University Law School, and calculated her age at around thirty. Her specialty at the firm was corporate criminal defense – exactly the specialty Brian figured he was going to need. And she had served as an intern for the Federal Prosecutor’s office while she was in college. That might help too, although Brian wasn’t sure. He just didn’t even know what to look for.

  Brian switched gears, googling John Spedino’s name. There were several pages of results. Spedino was a well-known man who was often referred to as Teflon Two, a takeoff on the “Teflon Don” title associated with the late mobster John Gotti.

  Brian read several news articles from the New York papers about John “Johnny Speed” Spedino. The man was Brooklyn-born, in his mid-sixties and had been charged with more crimes than one could count. He was the boss of the Mafia in the United States – the top man.

  The government’s success rate in prosecuting Johnny Speed was zero. He had never served a day in prison, although the charges against him at various times in the past had included murder, assault and battery, running a prostitution ring and jury-rigging.

  An interesting story in the New York Observer noted that Spedino seemed to be immune from successful prosecution mostly because anyone who was slated to testify against him either changed their mind, or failed to appear…ever again. The story said although law enforcement insiders viewed Spedino as the top guy to catch, his record remained clean.

  Brian searched more articles, trying to find some association with any deal WT&C had done. He got nowhere, even after looking at Warren Taylor and Currant’s own list of shareholder owners. Having never done this before, he did find it interesting, but seemingly of no value to him in his present situation. The SEC required that brokerage firm ownership be public information. WT&C’s shareholder list consisted of seven names – three corporations and four individuals, none of which Brian had ever heard of before and all located in New England.

  Since WT&C was not itself a public corporation, Brian couldn’t get more details about the shareholders other than the list of names, which he printed off in case he might need it in the future. Then he glanced down at the business card lying next to his keyboard. He called Nicole Farber.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brian slept very little that night. Several times he awoke with a start, aware that he had been dreaming. One dream involved being locked in a cage like an animal. He was sweating profusely after that episode. Around five he gave up and arose, turning on the TV. Channel Four Sunrise News had a brief report on the arrest of Carl Cybola at WT&C and said the FBI was looking for several other people to whom they wished to talk about the incident. The announcer said at least one subpoena had been issued requiring an employee of the firm to produce documents.

  The FBI also issued an arrest warrant for a Canadian whose whereabouts were presently unknown and who was CEO of a company recently taken public by the broker. Brian knew that company was Bellicose Holdings. He also knew they’d been unsuccessfully looking for Rochefort for a while.

  Nothing Brian saw, heard or thought gave him the slightest comfort. He had no idea what the Feds had on him, or even what they wanted, for that matter. He thought about what they might find – the car leased from an overseas shell corporation, the expense accounts he’d turned in when, instead of clients, the diners and drinkers had been girls he and his friends had picked up. All this seemed like peanuts compared to taking a guy out of the office in handcuffs, but Brian had absolutely no idea how all this worked. Feeling himself spiraling out of control again, he fought to calm down.

  The workday began quietly at WT&C. Again today the morning sales meeting was run by someone else, and to say it was subdued would be a gross understatement. All day long Brian tried to concentrate, but he could think of nothing else other than what faced him at the FBI meeting on Monday. He began to make notes of what files and other information he should give them about Bellicose. Since he’d signed a confidentiality agreement at the firm, one of the few pieces of paper apparently deemed important enough for a new hire to complete, Brian knew he couldn’t just take the information. It belonged to the firm, and he made a note to find out who could tell him what he could and could not produce for the Feds.

  Around eleven, Brian stuck his head in Carl’s office. As Cybola looked up Brian said, “Taking your advice, Chief. I’m heading to my lawyer’s. Out for a few hours, I guess.”

  Carl wished him well. Brian took the elevator to street level, hit the sidewalk and walked three blocks north on McKinney to the mirrored tower that housed the offices of Carter and Wells. Entering the building, he headed toward the building directory but an attractive lady behind a reception desk in the lobby said, “May I help you, sir?”

  She advised Brian that Carter and Wells’ reception area was on the fortieth floor. Glancing at the directory as he headed to the elevator, he saw that a listing of the firm’s lawyers took up several columns, and it appeared the firm occupied a number of floors of the building.

  Brian checked in with the receptionist and took a seat. After a brief wait a man in his early twenties and dressed in a conservative pinstripe suit entered the lobby and called Brian’s name.

  “I’m Ms. Farber’s assistant, Ryan Coleman. Come right this way, please.”

  Following the young man, Brian snaked through cubicle farms, not unlike those at WT&C, but he was struck by how quiet everything was. There was an underlying buzz of activity, certainly, but nothing loud.

  They arrived at another, smaller reception area which was tastefully decorated in old wood. It reminded Brian of a fine men’s club. Six office doors encircled the room, and there were two desks in its middle. Brian figured one of those was Ryan’s. A female about the same age as Ryan sat at the other one, and smiled as he glanced at her. Ryan opened one of the office doors and stood back to allow Brian to enter, closing it behind him.

  Nicole Farber’s office was about fifteen feet square. Her desk sat in the middle and a window behind her reached from floor to ceiling. The day was clear, and he could see the buildings comprising The Galleria several miles to the north.

  “Hi, Brian Sadler,” she said as she came around her desk. She had a big, sincere smile on her face as she gestured to a small sitting area with a coffee table, couch and chair.

  “Let’s talk here, where it’s not so formal.” Coffee was offered and accepted and her assistant Ryan brought a silver pot, two china cups and saucers on a tray, which he sat on the coffee table. After pouri
ng, he left the office.

  “So I know something about you already,” Nicole said, touching his sleeve gently.

  A toucher, he thought. Well, if she and I don’t hit it off as lawyer and client, maybe I’ll ask her out. That thought briefly ran though his mind as he switched back and concentrated on the subject at hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re not a criminal,” she laughed.

  Brian remembered his outburst in the bar at Zen yesterday and smiled too.

  “I’m really not.”

  “OK. Tell me what’s going on in your life that made you say that and let’s work backward from the day the FBI agents came to your office. I’m all ears.” She sat back in her chair, folded her arms and looked intently in his face.

  Brian began by giving Nicole every detail he could recall of the day the Feds arrived at WT&C. He handed her Agent Myron Callender’s card and the subpoena papers. He related what he had heard from Carl Cybola at lunch and everything the agent had told him. He also told her a lot about Warren Taylor and Currant; he mentioned most of the specifics he could recall about Bellicose Holdings.

  He talked about Bellicose’s principal shareholder, who had disappeared after receiving the net proceeds from the broker’s successful public offering. Although she said nothing while he spoke, apparently content merely to make notes on a legal pad now and then, he got the feeling Nicole knew more about both WT&C and Bellicose than he would have thought. Her body language, however, told him nothing. She never nodded her head or smiled knowingly. She just listened.

  He told her about Johnny Spedino, and asked her if she had any idea what link he might have with WT&C.

  “It’s your turn to talk now. I’m making notes about things we’ll talk more about later. Just keep going.”

  After about an hour, Brian was finished. Nicole looked at her notes and said, “OK. You have a decision to make, after which I may have a lot of work to do. I’m busy as hell right now but I’m willing to take your case. I’m really good at criminal defense. My track record the last three years for acquittals is ninety percent, and I’m pleased to say none of the other ten percent ever served a day of jail time.”

  “Jail time? I’ve never so much as gotten a traffic ticket. Do you seriously think I might be facing jail time?”

  “I don’t want to scare you so let me just tell you this. These guys live to make examples out of rich guys who prey on the little man, in their opinions. They will try to bankrupt you with legal fees first, and then take away a chunk of your life by putting you in jail. Even Club Feds aren’t a country club. Are you seriously facing jail time? Who knows? I don’t even know what kind of case they may have against you. For that matter, I don’t even know if you’ve told me the whole story up to this point.”

  “So what’s the decision I have to make?”

  “I charge $450 an hour. I need fifty thousand up front as a retainer and I promise you we’ll burn through that within a few weeks, so be ready to pony up more. You haven’t told me much about yourself personally but I gather fifty grand now and then won’t be a problem for you.”

  “Money’s not the issue. The issue is, are you the best I can find? I can’t take a chance on having a big blemish on my life that might cause me not to be able to work in securities, or finance, or somewhere else. I need to skate this deal and come out without a hitch.”

  Brian paused and looked at her. God, she was beautiful, he thought. She smiled at him and he glanced for the first time at her left hand. No ring. That didn’t always mean anything, but it was a start.

  Focus, Brian. You don’t need good looks right now. You need brains.

  “I’m good. The track record I mentioned is the best in town. I interned in the Federal Prosecutor’s office when I was in law school at SMU. I handle mostly white-collar securities criminal defense, and I’ll put in the time and effort to provide you the best defense possible, given the facts we have to work with. In return you’ll have to work closely with me. I know you have a job so we can meet after the market closes. Don’t plan to have much of a nightlife for a while if you hire me. We’ll be burning the midnight oil on this one.”

  She told Brian to think about it, but not for long. The deposition with the FBI was set for Monday.

  “I can get that meeting moved out a week or so but no more than that. I need to know what you have to show them and we’ll talk about what you plan to say. You need to be totally ready for that deposition.”

  Brian looked at her. He had never put his life, his future, in the hands of a stranger before. Somehow he felt Nicole could be the person to get him out of a situation he didn’t even understand in the first place. He trusted his gut every day in the marketplace. It was a big part of what made him the confident, successful person he was today.

  “Done. We have a deal.”

  She walked to her desk, buzzed Ryan and asked him for new client papers. Within minutes, the assistant opened the door, laid two documents on the coffee table, and stood nearby, awaiting instructions.

  “Take these with you and bring them back tomorrow afternoon after the market closes, around 3:15. One of these is an agreement for representation. The other is the firm’s wire transfer instructions. Wire the retainer tomorrow before you come. Ryan, clear my appointments after 3:15 every day the rest of this week, and put in a call to Myron Callender at the FBI.”

  Ryan replied, “Ms. Farber, you have the mayor’s dinner tomorrow night at the Art Museum, and you’re attending with Mr. Carter.”

  Brian figured Carter was the name partner of the firm. He was impressed with how far this female lawyer had come in so short a time.

  “I can’t do it, Ryan. Of all people, Randall will understand. Just let him know. It won’t be an issue.”

  Ryan turned and left the room.

  Nicole stood, extending her hand. Brian took it, and she clasped his hand with both of hers.

  “You’re in the best hands possible. No one will work harder to make this come out well for you. I’m not intimidated by the FBI, and you won’t be either. You’ll know your rights and if you’re really not a criminal, I’ll help make sure they don’t make you out to be one.”

  As Brian rode the elevator down, he thought about the whole situation. Nicole’s aggressively positive attitude had him convinced she really was the best he could get, and he didn’t know anyone else anyway.

  So I’ll put my future in the hands of a beautiful girl I met in a bar, one I’d like to end up in bed with, and give up control while I let her drive the train which either exonerates me or puts me in a cell.

  He continued to think as he walked back to his office. One thing was certain. Brian Sadler felt a lot better now that he had someone on his side who obviously had done this before.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brian had intended to return to work after leaving Nicole’s office but since it was already 3:30 the market had closed for the day. He wasn’t in the mood to call customers and push stocks. He had a gnawing in his gut that made him scared to do anything the same way he had done things up to now – he had no idea why he was in trouble or even if he was in trouble, over the Bellicose Holdings deal.

  After all, I was only a salesman. I didn’t create the terms of the deal, I’ve never met the guy who skipped out with all the dough, and I didn’t price the offering. I know nothing about this deal except the documents my employer provided me.

  Instead of going to work he drove home – it was a beautiful June afternoon and he put the top down to enjoy it.

  I’ve got to start pulling documents together. I need to start making a list of things I can give the FBI on Monday. The more I give, the more they’ll see how much I’m trying to cooperate.

  He began a mental list of things he could give the FBI. He had a lot of handwritten notes he’d made to use as selling points for people who generally bought with nothing more than a gentle nudge anyway. And like most of the firm’s offerings, there had been little to know about
this one. All he told clients was that this was just another WT&C deal. Hold on for the ride and get off when you’ve made enough profit. He’d known that this deal, like all the others, would be pumped up, inflated by the investments of previous WT&C public offerings. It was really a no-brainer. He just had to decide which of the high net worth clients he had so carefully cultivated would be the recipients of this latest offering of manna from heaven.

  One thing nagged at Brian. There was a nasty little secret behind all of the firm’s offerings. Everybody knew about it, but nobody talked about it. He had to figure out how to keep The Millionaire’s Club from becoming an issue.

  Every morning newscast carried a little more news about Warren Taylor and Currant. As he showered Brian could hear the sound from the TV mounted in his bathroom. The newscaster reported that unnamed sources close to the matter revealed that one of WT&C’s recent public offerings was the target of the entire investigation. The company’s name wasn’t given but Brian knew it was Bellicose.

  When he got to work he saw an urgent email in his account from the firm’s corporate headquarters. It had gone to the entire staff, instructing everyone to say nothing to the media. Employees were to advise the legal department of any contact from outsiders seeking information. The email referenced the confidentiality document each new employee had signed. That reminded Brian to get it out; he dropped it into a portfolio to take to Nicole.

  Brian went online and checked his banking. He had almost twenty grand in his checking account and another hundred thousand in the money market. He initiated a wire transfer for $50,000 to Carter and Wells. He read over the documents Nicole had given him. They seemed to be fairly straightforward.

  One interesting paragraph in the retainer letter was highlighted in bold, impossible to miss. “If at any time, in Carter and Wells’ sole opinion, Client fails to be forthright in every respect, including disclosure of all information requested and required by his or her attorney, Carter and Wells may terminate this relationship immediately, refunding the balance of Client’s retainer, if any. Client acknowledges that termination of representation, if at a critical point in the timeline of Client’s defense, may cause Client to require new representation quickly. Such new Counsel may not have the same level of knowledge and expertise about Client’s situation.”