Robbie's Scheme

by Justin Haines

  “I don’t think that’s it,” Chris says as he ends his embrace with Robbie and starts wagging his finger in the air. Stepping away from Robbie, he shakes his head and runs his tongue along his teeth. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Robbie. If I tell my lawyers to schedule an official meeting at your fund, will you tell me then?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. But I look forward to our meeting.”

  Robbie reaches out to shake Chris’s hand, hoping this is more than a hypothetical and he can move forward to closing the deal. Chris looks down at the hand, then up at Robbie’s face.

  Smiling, he turns and walks away, leaving Robbie’s hand hanging in the air.

  Grimacing, Robbie watches as Chris returns to the line and makes a spectacle of serving a bowl of soup to a patiently waiting family. Behind the counter, the personal photographer’s camera flashes are blinding the poor kids, while the press starts to reconvene on the other side to shout questions at Chris.

  Robbie hates watching all the pictures being taken. He can’t imagine the shame parents must feel with their kids potentially ending up in a newspaper at a soup kitchen. It takes courage to give up and bring your family here and Robbie worries all this press could keep people away from his community center.

  Across the cafeteria, Maya’s oblivious to the scenes playing out in the kitchen. She’s busy perusing the many POTCH brochures and pamphlets lying around the community center.

  She doesn’t like what she’s reading.

  Some of the items aren’t as concerning, such as the headline bragging about this being the largest meat-free soup kitchen in the country. Reading it over, POTCH’s 12-point mission statement doesn’t concern her on its own. It’s full of typically bland corporate jargon about big picture ideas on being better people and helping the world.

  But the depictions of a devil and Hitler on the cover of another pamphlet is what really catches her eye. Reading it, Maya learns that POTCH believes everyone is reincarnated and those that need their help most were truly evil people in past lives. The pamphlet urges her to seek spiritual guidance if she’s down on her luck and insists they can help absolve her past sins and come to terms with whatever evil deeds she committed in past lives. Another pamphlet tells her POTCH can help break the cycle of reincarnation if she fully commits herself to improving her spiritual journey.

  Several other flyers insist she needs to develop a personal success plan if she hopes to improve her life and make something of herself. A row of posters offers free courses to start the path to success. There’s even a signup sheet near the entrance for appointments with POTCH guides to assist in developing these success plans.

  To Maya, it feels like cult therapy. She supports therapy, but decorating a soup kitchen with these is preying on the weak and needy. It makes her feel sick. She wonders if Robbie knows about all of these pamphlets. Does he believe it or support it?

  Digging to the bottom of a pile, she finds one of the oldest pamphlets is trying to sell her vitamins that help the soul and spirit, whatever that means. The greying colors and wrinkling corners make her hope it’s an outdated idea from the past, but what if it isn’t? Is Robbie selling vitamins on the side? Should the FBI be investigating a Ponzi scheme or a pyramid scheme?

  As Maya starts collecting brochures and stuffing them into her purse, she notices one that makes her positive in her decision not to warn Robbie and seals the deal on not having any regret. This POTCH pamphlet is suggesting a thought exercise of exploring what possible benefits could result from a partner dying.

  The statement shocks her.

  Inside the brochure, it expands on the idea by mentioning gains from an elderly relative dying. Reading it makes her stomach flip. If this is how Robbie thinks, she won’t hesitate to take advantage of his downfall. She expects the benefits will be plentiful for her if she takes part in the demise.

  Maya takes pictures of everything else she sees before rushing out of the community center. She wants some fresh air and needs to put some space between her and everything POTCH.

  Watching as she rushes out of the cafeteria, Robbie wants to run after her. Unfortunately, he doesn’t feel like he’s in a position to leave. After hearing Chris making inappropriate comments to a female volunteer, Robbie’s standing between them to act as a shield. She clearly looks uncomfortable with the situation and Robbie knows leaving now will make it worse. The cameras are enough to risk driving people away from the center, the last thing he wants is a harassment lawsuit. He feels responsible for her since this is his operation and he’s the one who invited Chris, so he lets Maya leave without making an effort.

  It’s the decision he knows he has to make, but it’s one that fills him with regret.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Christopher Clark?”

  Already reaching out for the door handle to his downtown campaign office, Chris sighs and waits for the voice behind him to catch up. It wasn’t long ago that he would quicken his pace and have a security guard stay behind to ensure some distance between him and whichever member of the public’s calling out. But now that he’s asking for their votes, his advisors insist he can’t ignore people trying to interact with him.

  “Christopher Clark, do you have a moment to speak with us in private?”

  Chris turns around and is surprised to find two middle-aged men in cheap suits standing before him. The duo captures his attention and he lets go of the door to listen. He can tell they’re not lawyers in suits this cheap and reporters would never dress this nicely outside of a TV studio. He’s curious, but not knowing their motivation, he looks to his security detail to make sure they’re ready in case these guys try anything.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m Special Agent John Knott with the FBI. This is my colleague, Special Agent Pete Connelly. We’d like to speak with you about a case we’re currently working.”

  “Am I suspect?”

  “Not at all, sir,” John says, a little surprised it’s the first question Chris has for him. “We believe you could be of assistance in us bringing a major criminal to justice.”

  Hearing the words, Chris instantly understands the subtext. The FBI crediting him with helping bring down a major criminal would be election gold. Even with the millions he’s pouring into this race, he can't buy the kind of front-page headlines this would bring his campaign. Not to mention the name recognition with less informed swing voters.

  He happily agrees to a more private conversation with the FBI agents and leads them through his relatively empty office space to the private office he keeps in the back corner. Currently, the rest of the building is only home to Chris’s small staff of advisors and campaign manager. But in his mind, he likes to envision how the office will look when it’s full of volunteers in a few months.

  Now the FBI is offering him something new to fantasize about and he pictures the front-page of the newspaper with his face hanging on the wall of his office. Will people start calling him the ‘law and order’ candidate? That’s the kind of reputation that can win him airtime on the evening news. Smiling as he opens the office door and follows the FBI agents inside, Chris can’t imagine how his opponents will compete.

  “So, gentlemen, what’s this about?”

  Chris walks past the agents and makes himself at home in the office. He kicks his feet up on the desk and waves for them to follow his lead with the plastic chairs in the corner of the room.

  John raises a hand to politely decline as he tries to ignore Chris’s shoes up on the desk and the lack of respect they show. He bites his tongue as Pete accepts the invitation and pulls one of the chairs forward. John always prefers to stay on his feet and avoid getting comfortable, but this meeting, in particular, is one he doesn’t want to last long.

  “We understand you’re running for the Senate and need to remove yourself from any decisions involving your family’s wealth. We’re wondering if you’ve reached a decision on who you’ll be investing your family’s trust
with?”

  “What?” Chris starts laughing. “Did Robbie put you guys up to this?”

  “No, but he is the reason why we’re here.”

  Realizing these men are serious, the laughing stops. “What are you talking about?” Chris asks as he takes his feet off the desk and leans forward in his seat.

  John’s happy to see they have his attention now. “We believe Robert Locke’s returns are too good and too consistent to be true. We’re investigating him with the belief that he’s operating a Ponzi scheme.”

  Chris lets his mouth hang open as he processes the FBI’s accusation. It takes him a minute and a lot of blinking to clear his head and verbalize his thoughts. It’s a reaction John expects their investigation to elicit from many people.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding. He’s one of the most respected men on Wall Street. Hell, he has the best reputation in all of New York. He’d kick my ass if he decided to go into politics.”

  “A reputation built on lies and theft. We believe that he targets wealthy individuals such as yourself. Rather than investing your money, he uses it to fund his opulent lifestyle and buy the public’s goodwill through philanthropic endeavors. The problem being, the charitable contributions are all stolen money from unwitting suspects.”

  Pete leans forward in his seat to mimic Chris’s posture. “Going back to our original question, have you decided who you’re investing with yet?”

  “Well, I guess not Robbie.”

  John smiles at the joke. He thinks it’s good that Chris is comfortable enough with them to be joking and wants it to stay that way. Licking his lips, he prepares to deliver his sales pitch.

  “We’re actually here to ask you to do the exact opposite of that.”

  “You want him to steal all of my money?”

  “No. We’re here to request you set up a meeting at Merry Men Financial Management and request as much historical documentation and financial disclosure as possible. You can claim it’s for your due diligence, but we ask that you pass it on to us for a review. We want to compare it with the information we already have. Then, we may ask you to make a small investment with him. Not your entire trust and we would insure the loss of this money.”

  “Your cooperation would also guarantee you’d first in line for retribution when the world discovers his fraud,” Pete adds.

  “Why a small investment?”

  “So that when he provides you with a statement of your returns after a quarter, we can determine if the numbers are possible to achieve through real, legal investments,” John says. “Also, once you’re inside the fund, we assume you could continuously ask for more documentation. Eventually, we’re positive he would supply you with something fake or manufactured that we could use against Robbie in court.”

  “So you’re setting a trap that you want to ensnare him in?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And me and my family’s money are your bait?”

  John lunges forward and leans across the desk to make sure Chris’s attention doesn’t wander. He can tell he isn’t sold and is leaning against their plan, but they’ve been through too many potential informants to give up easily.

  “We would be allies in this plan. I promise you would be made whole. If we give each other our full support, this investigation ends with Senator Christopher Clark receiving significant credit for the arrests.”

  Chris smiles, he loves whenever someone says his name with the title ‘Senator’ attached. John returns the smile, happy to see his play on Chris’s ego is working.

  “I don’t want to lose any money.”

  “We’ll make sure you come out of this with as much as you put in.”

  Chris leans back in his chair and kicks his foot out against the desk. While the chair spins around, he weighs the FBI’s proposal. Senator Christopher Clark, the supporter of law and order, has a nice ring to it.

  When the chair finally comes to stop, John’s relieved to see Chris is nodding his head.

  “I can set up a preliminary meeting with my lawyers at Merry Men’s offices, but I’m not promising to risk any of my money. Not yet anyway.”

  “That’s fine, it’s a great start,” Pete shouts as he jumps up from his chair, happy to call this meeting a success.

  But John isn’t happy.

  While Pete’s pumping his fist in the air, he’s still pacing in front of the desk as if Chris hasn’t stopped spinning. Despite securing their first informant, he doesn’t think this is enough to consider the meeting successful. But he knows exactly what would tip the scales.

  Taking a deep breath, John decides to push his luck and ask for more from Chris. “Since you’re still on the fence, we need to take full advantage of this meeting. Can we send an agent posing as a lawyer into that meeting with you?”

  Chris joins the FBI agents on their feet and turns his back to them as he considers the request. Looking out the glass wall that separates this office from the rest of his campaign headquarters, he again imagines a building full of volunteers working to elect him as senator. What better way to motivate them than the knowledge that they’re supporting a hero who brought a thief to justice. A man who might be stealing from the very people voting in this election. The thought certainly inspires him to work harder.

  But Chris wants to play hard to get and make the FBI agree to his demands before complying with theirs. “Will the agent have an actual law degree in case anyone tries asking him a question?”

  “We’ll make sure of it.”

  “And he’ll be financially literate?”

  “All of our white-collar agents are great with numbers,” Pete promises.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Chris keeps his back turned to the agents. He can’t think of any other demands for the FBI at the moment, those can come later. Instead, he simply wants to reinforce who holds the power in this relationship.

  “Make sure he knows not to ask a single question. This is still my meeting with Robbie, not yours.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seeing the affectionate couple waiting for the elevator in the lobby of her building, Maya decides to take the stairs up to her apartment. She has no interest in being trapped in a small space with adoring young lovers. Besides, climbing the stairs will ensure she stays awake.

  Fighting her body’s powerful urge to sleep, Maya leans on the railing for support and to pull herself forward. Her other hand tightly clutches her afternoon cup of coffee; she’s lost count of how many cups her body’s consumed today. None of it’s enough, her eyes are still stinging and fluttering shut every few seconds.

  Senator Redman made a last-minute trip to New Hampshire yesterday morning, prompting Maya’s editor to insist she rent a car and drive up to follow the campaign. She spent the evening and this morning acting like a creep, following the Senator around and trying to listen to his conversations with locals in diners. Thankfully, most diners make good coffee. But after spending the night in the backseat of her rental car, there’s nothing she’s looking forward to more than collapsing into her bed.

  Squished into the car, Maya’s conscience and ambition spent the entire night fighting over Robbie. She keeps telling herself her mind’s made up, but her guilt is fighting back. She’s praying her brain can quiet itself when she crawls under the warm covers of her bed. She’s desperate for sleep.

  Tumbling out of the stairwell, she fumbles through her overnight bag to find her keychain. It must have fallen to the bottom of the bag, since she isn’t able to find it as she walks down the hallway.

  But it turns out she doesn’t need her key. Rounding the corner at the end of the hall, she discovers the door to her apartment is ajar.

  The light from her living room window is spilling into the hallway. Despite her sleep-deprived state, Maya’s positive she had locked the door before leaving for New Hampshire. Placing her cup of coffee on the floor, she pulls her phone out and dials the first two digits of 911. Taking a deep breath, she kicks the rest of the door open.

&nb
sp; Slowly peeking her head inside, the sight shocks Maya. But perhaps it shouldn’t.

  Calmly sitting on her couch, Teddy’s sipping a cup of tea.

  Admiring the view out of her window with his feet up on the coffee table, he’s made himself quite at home in her private space. Waiting for her, he looks as if they’re old friends and she’s welcomed him in. Nothing could be further from the truth, and Maya slams the door shut behind her to announce her arrival.

  “What are you doing here?”

  His back to the door, Teddy doesn’t bother to turn and face her. Instead, he gestures to the armchair across from her couch. “Come, have a seat. We need to talk.”

  “I don’t think I have anything I want to say to you, Teddy.”

  “Please, call me Theo. Teddy is only for my closest of friends and I don’t believe we have that relationship.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me, Teddy. Only my closest friends make themselves at home in my apartment like this, so you’re confusing my memory.”

  While she speaks, Maya starts inching toward her front closest, away from the armchair he wants her to sit in. In her rush to catch up with Senator Redman, she only thought about taking her pre-packed overnight bag, leaving her larger purse at home in the front closet, with her pepper spray still inside. Teddy isn’t quite warranting a 911 call, but the thought of pepper-spraying his eyes is deeply satisfying to Maya.

  “It’s fine if you don’t wish to have a conversation, I just need you to listen. Will you have a seat?”

  “I’m more comfortable on my feet.”

  “That’s not how I hear you are around Rob.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Maya asks as she stops her slow creep to the closet. She finds his insinuation insulting.

  “It means I don’t like the two of you spending so much time together.” Teddy puts his teacup down on her coffee table and lowers his feet, but he still isn’t looking at her. “Why do you find it so difficult to comply with a simple request, like calling me by my proper name?”