by Zuri Day
“See you then, man.”
Ike reached the area Bernard had suggested, quiet and secluded, as he’d described. It was cold, in the forties, the sun bright. Even so, Ike perspired. He removed his suit coat, closed his eyes and breathed in the ocean’s salty mist. The air was clean and crisp. His nerves settled down. From this calm place, away from Quinn’s passion, the story sounded impossible, almost ludicrous. Yet he’d jumped on a plane, pulled two men from their families and stood waiting to question a fifty-million-dollar partner about invisible ties to corruption and greed. By the time Bernard arrived fifteen minutes later, Ike wished he hadn’t made the trip.
Bernard Lindsay was all smiles as he sauntered toward Ike—trench coat blowing in the wind, a black fedora tipped to a jaunty angle, wing-tipped shoes shined spotless. The picture of financial success.
“Mr. Drake,” Bernard boomed with hand outstretched.
“Mr. Lindsay. Thank you so much for agreeing to meet on such a short notice.”
“No problem at all, Ike. The closing’s coming up. This thing’s about to get real. It’s understandable that last-minute questions might arise.” He motioned toward a wrought-iron bench. “Let’s sit down and discuss what’s on your mind.”
They strolled casually, even as Ike struggled for a way to handle this situation without coming off as a total idiot.
“Ah, man.” Bernard sighed as he sat, and ran a hand over his face. “I’ve got to stop burning the candle at both ends. The body doesn’t bounce back at forty-five the way it did at twenty-five.”
“I won’t know about that for another ten years.”
“That’s right. Forgot you’re a youngster.”
“I’m not going to hold you up, Bernard. In fact, the more I’ve thought about it—” he chuckled and shook his head “—we probably could have spoken by phone and saved you the trip. I guess the pressure of everything coming together has me paranoid.”
“I’m here now, brother. So bring it on.”
Ike looked out at the water as he spoke, embarrassed to face this respected businessman with speculation. “I can’t believe I’m even repeating this. Recently, I received information that, if true, would have serious repercussions. That’s if it were true. According to this source, Global has international partners not disclosed in official company documents, unscrupulous men with dirty money who are the actual funders behind the billion-dollar asset sheet. Highly improbable, I know, but—” Ike laughed again, more gregariously this time, to emphasize his personal disbelief of the tale.
He sat back, expecting to see Bernard’s signature smile and endure a ribbing. There was no smile. Bernard Lindsay was all business.
“The problem, Mr. Drake, is that confidential information appears to have been discussed.”
“Not at all. Circles are small. People talk. One needn’t know of a partnership to share what they’ve heard. I found it intriguing but unlikely, as I stated. I can’t see you or the other partners being puppets for an illegal operation funded by criminals.”
“You are correct. I am neither a puppet, nor a criminal and I resent the merest implication of such.”
“I have not called you either,” Ike replied, intrigued by Bernard’s reaction. “Nor have I given undo credence to what I heard. But surely you can understand my need to mention it, at the very least, and eliminate the slightest of chances that it’s true.”
“It’s not true.”
Ike nodded slowly, eyeing Bernard as he did so and checking his gut. The relief he thought would come from the answer he’d hoped for did not happen.
“I am relieved to hear that,” he said. “I’ve always believed you to be a stand up man, Bernard. Your answer is no surprise.”
Bernard stood. “I apologize for having to cut this meeting short. But if there is nothing else to discuss, I need to get back to an engagement.”
“Certainly.” Ike stood as well, his hand extended. Bernard accepted the handshake but did not meet Ike’s eye. Ike’s gut rumbled.
“If I could get you to do one more thing for me, this matter will be totally put to bed. I need a statement on company letterhead, attesting to what you just confirmed, that there are no other partners or financial contributors—silent, invisible or otherwise—that have not been documented and that if audited, all monies could be accounted for from the sources listed in that documentation.”
Bernard’s eyes narrowed. “Interesting request from one who considers me a standup guy.”
“A matter of documentation is all.”
“Who’ve you been talking to?”
“Obviously someone who didn’t have their facts straight. If that letter can be notarized and couriered to my office tomorrow, I’ll consider this matter closed.”
“Global 100 has provided all required documentation for this transaction. This matter is closed now.”
“Why such resistance to a simple request?”
“He who has the money, calls the shots.” He turned and left without another word.
Ike watched Bernard’s retreat with an uneasy feeling, followed by a thought that chilled him to the bone.
What if all he’d heard was true?
He left the pier and headed straight for the airport. On the way, he called his dad.
“Hello, son. Your mother talked you up. Wondering what kept you away from brunch.”
“Wondering who,” Jennifer corrected from the background.
“I was handling some business, Dad. In fact, I’m in San Francisco now, on my way back to PC.”
“San Francisco? What’s going on?”
“That’s what we need to figure out. I’m calling an emergency family meeting, Dad, ninety minutes from now.”
Chapter 22
Ike arrived at his parents’ home just a couple minutes past the time he’d set for the meeting. He was pleased to see all of the siblings currently in Paradise Cove represented by the cars in the drive. As daunting as the meeting before him was, he looked forward to being surrounded by family. No matter what else happened, he could count on his clan for moral support. The meeting with Bernard Lindsay had left him feeling no love at all.
He bopped up the steps and entered the house. It was quiet. Deathly so. For the second time today, the hairs on his neck stood at attention. The family knew nothing of what he was about to share. What could possibly have happened in the past ninety minutes that made this usually warm, vibrant house feel like a morgue?
The low rumble of his father’s voice traveled down the hall as Ike neared the great room. Two steps in, and he was stopped in his tracks. The tableau was of the Drake family, but the mood was all wrong. His mother, always the first to greet him with a smile and a kiss, sat with her head slightly bowed. Jokester Terrell stood near the window, failing to deliver the quip Ike expected about working overtime. Warren and Niko sat on the couch. His father in an armchair. Except for the actions of two people, Ike would have sworn he’d turned invisible, unable to be detected as he walked into the room. Warren looked up. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away. And his father fixed him with a look that Ike had no time to interpret. He didn’t have to.
“Ike Jr.,” his father intoned as he stood. “What in the hell have you done?”
The anger in Ike Sr.’s voice took him aback. But only for a second. “That’s what I’m here to explain.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Warren offered.
Terrell finally looked at him and sneered. “You’ve said enough.”
Back roared confusion, along with mounting fear. “I called this meeting for a very legitimate reason, but it is clear that between then and my arrival, something else has taken place. What is it?”
“Global 100 has pulled their financing,” Terrell answered. “The deal is off the table.”
The ne
ws hit Ike like an actual blow. He ambled over to a nearby loveseat and plopped down.
Terrell walked past, sneer still in place. “Thought that might get your attention.”
Niko walked over and sat next to Ike. “Everyone is in shock, bro, unable to believe what just happened. Having no idea what happened, really. I know how you operate. You’re not the kind of person to go off half-cocked or to act with misinformation. I’m sure there is a compelling explanation for what took place between you and Bernard.”
Terrell snorted. “Whatever it was sank a deal in five minutes that took five years to build.”
So that was it. Bernard had dropped the bomb Ike had planned to deliver. It must have exploded minutes before he arrived. He’d walked in and caught shrapnel, and it was still falling. That the deal was over was something Ike couldn’t yet contemplate. The whole situation was a minefield. He took a breath instead of a step, and hoped not to blow up.
“I’m not sure what spin Bernard put on my visit, but this is what actually happened. Earlier, I received extremely unsettling news concerning Global 100, news that came from a reliable source who’d done business with them in the past before learning what was shared with me and cutting all ties.”
“From whom?” Ike Sr. demanded.
“Quinn relayed the information, but it came from Phillip Corrigan.”
“Quinn?” Terrell asked incredulously.
“Did you speak directly to Phillip?” Ike, Sr. strode toward Ike.
“No, but—”
“And yet you took it upon yourself, without a word to the other company execs, to fly to San Francisco and deliver malicious and unfounded accusations to his face.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“That’s how he interpreted whatever took place. You weren’t the only one calling a meeting. While you were in the air, he obviously called one, too. They broke contract on the clause concerning confidentiality, because even though anonymously you mentioned a source not connected with this transaction, it’s over. Done. Just like that.”
Ike eased back against the couch. His mind whirled. Bernard’s actions didn’t make sense, and he said as much.
“No, brother. What you did doesn’t make sense, s-e-n-s-e,” Terrell quipped, spelling it out so there’d be no mistaking what he said. “But because of it, every c-e-n-t of their investment is gone.”
“I know it’s hard to do, but I’m asking all of you to hear me out, then decide for yourselves which reaction was reasonable—Bernard Lindsay’s or mine.”
An hour later, Ike was in his office at Drake Realty, scrolling his address book for contacts who might have done business with Global 100. At Jennifer’s insistence, his dad and brothers had listened to the report he’d been given. They’d agreed the accusations were horrendous but also felt that for the most part they were too outrageous to be true. Terrell was the angriest. He believed the whole story was hogwash and conveyed his disappointment at Ike’s lack of restraint. Warren’s beef, and that of his father, was that he’d gone against company policy and acted alone. Every major move, and most minor ones, were discussed by all execs. Niko didn’t reject the possibility outright, believing few politicians could be trusted. Even though he was one. The only real encouragement came from his mother.
“Quinn’s a bright girl,” she’d offered as she walked him to the door. “She wouldn’t share something so significant without good reason. Ask for her assistance. If you believe what she told you, keep searching to prove the truth and don’t give up.”
On the way to the office, he’d followed his mother’s advice and left a message on Quinn’s voice mail when she didn’t answer. Jennifer was right. Quinn’s help could be crucial. If given the chance to meet with Phillip Corrigan, Ike could confirm the story and feel he’d done the right thing. Or find no truth to what she’d said and never forgive himself.
When the face of Ike’s phone lit up with her calling, he answered before it had a chance to ring.
“Ike! Your message sounded serious. What’s going on?”
“A hailstorm of problems. I’m at the office. Can you come over? It’s important.”
“Sure. I’m on my way.”
Ike didn’t know why the thought of Quinn coming over made him feel so much better. She was partly why he was in this predicament. But it did.
When she texted her arrival, Ike moved quickly to let her in. Barely through the door, he pulled her into his arms, soaked up the comfort found in her embrace. Crazy—he couldn’t explain it, but being in her arms felt like home.
“I’ve been worried since this morning and what I shared. Then I called you and when I didn’t get an answer, became more concerned. What’s the matter?”
“You called me?”
“Yes, around eleven or twelve, I guess.”
“I was on a flight but that shouldn’t have mattered.”
“You flew somewhere and are back already? Where’d you go?”
“Come into my office. I’ll tell you all about it.”
He did, ending with the grand flourish of the fallen deal. “The family is ready to disown me. But there’s something to what you told me. I feel it in my gut.”
“How can I help?”
Ike looked up from his phone, the warmth in his eyes enough to boil water. “I’m glad you asked. I need to meet with Phillip Corrigan. Get the information firsthand, the proof of what is happening and why doing business with that group is not an option.”
“I can try, but I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“Why not? You told me Trent is your best friend.”
“Trent told me his dad became extremely unnerved during the time he dealt with Global 100. He didn’t share the specifics, might not even know them. But I guess there were some pretty serious threats, and strong encouragement not to talk about what he suspected or had uncovered. Trent believes it’s part of the reason his parents now spend most of their time in Idaho, in a beautiful but rather remote location. But I will try, and share whatever is uncovered when I come in tomorrow.”
“Your four-week stint is over.”
“Yes, but Lydia asked for a couple more days, just to tie things up.”
“Your coming in is not a good idea, sweetheart. Nothing personal, but you’re not my family’s favorite person right now. Let me take the heat while you work on getting to Corrigan. Do that, and I’ll take back everything I said after you wrecked my Ferrari.”
Chapter 23
Later that evening, after another quick tryst with Ike, Quinn returned home and called Trent, who’d returned to Paris. She shared scant details on what happened and relayed Ike’s request.
“I don’t know, Q-Tip. I told you how weird Dad is about that whole thing. Just knowing I shared it with you would probably freak him out.”
“I told Ike it might not be easy. But I feel partly responsible for what happened. I share a story and a building falls down. Like I’m walking around with cloud calamity over my head. If I could somehow help to salvage the deal...”
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Now, that may be a way to get to my dad.”
“How?”
“Cut him in on the deal.”
“Seriously? You think he’d be an investor?”
“I don’t know, but that’s a safer conversation than the one you proposed. And then perhaps segue into Global talk from there. But I think he’d be open to a discussion with you, Quinn, instead of a company executive. You’re like his other kid. He’d feel comfortable and be more likely to open up with you.”
“Are your parents in San Francisco or Idaho?”
“San Francisco, I think. But I’m not sure. I’ll give you Dad’s cell number and you can take it from there.”
“If I can make somethi
ng happen, this would be huge! Thank you, Trench Coat. I love you, bestie.”
“You’re welcome, Q-Tip. I love you, too.”
Quinn wasted no time. She ended the call and without time to think about it, dialed a San Francisco number. She gripped the phone, awaiting an answer. He picked up.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Quinn?”
“Yes. I guess it’s no surprise you don’t recognize my voice. It’s been a while.”
“Of course I recognize you, honey. I’m surprised, that’s all. But pleasantly so. How are you, Quinn?”
“I’m good, for the most part.”
“What’s going on with those parts that aren’t so good?”
“Just personal stuff—more life classes.”
“Those are some of the toughest, but often some of the best. How’s Mom?”
“She’s good. The doctor changed her medication and the arthritis is better. I think it’s time to talk about some live-in assistance for her.”
“Are you planning to move?”
“Not right this moment, but at some point.”
“I guess that town’s too small for you.”
“It’s all right. I even had the opportunity to put my Ivy League education to use.”
“Really? How so?”
Quinn shared the experience of working at Drake Realty Plus. “That’s actually what has indirectly led to this call. I’m planning a trip to San Francisco and wanted to see you.”
“Absolutely! I’ve missed you, honey.”
“I know. Me, too. I finally started opening up about...everything. I really want to talk with you about it.”
“Text me the details of your visit and we’ll make plans from there.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Kristin Quinn.”
“I love you, Dad.”
On a roll, she called Phillip Corrigan and made plans to see him, too.
Her flight landed the next day at noon. With only a carry-on, she was quickly out of the airport and on her way to the Corrigans’ home in Pacific Heights.
She arrived and with Phillip’s boisterous greeting was transported back to the age of sixteen and their first meeting in Switzerland. His constant teasing made her blush. Not much had changed.
