Once a Killer

by Martin Bodenham

  “Just follow me. I’ll explain everything inside.” He pointed to the building.

  Although the building looked quiet, the front door had been left open, but no one was sitting at the reception on the right as they walked in.

  “This way,” said the officer, passing the reception counter and increasing his pace along the narrow corridor.

  When they reached the last room, the policeman opened the door and walked right in. He turned to Towers and pointed at a plastic chair at the end of a small, oblong table. “Sit there. I’ll be back in a moment,” he said before leaving and pulling the door closed behind him.

  Towers looked round the room. There were no clues as to what the office was used for. The walls were blank, and the furniture was cheap and dirty. There were sticky coffee rings at various spots on the plastic table top. Through the window, he could see a large inlet of water and what must have been West Haven on the other side of it.

  Every instinct told him to get up and leave. This didn’t feel right; something very strange was going on. The police officer seemed much more aggressive than a regular traffic cop, and why would he need to be taken to a coast guard station for a minor offense? Not that he thought he’d committed any offense. He stood up, walked toward the door, and then stopped when he heard voices approaching the room.

  Two men in suits thundered in. “Sit,” said the older one, pointing Towers to the chair he’d just vacated. There was something slightly familiar about him.

  Towers remained on his feet. “Unless I’m under arrest, I’m not staying.”

  “You’re not under arrest, yet,” said the younger and much heavier man, taking a seat. “But you’ll want to hear this.”

  “Where’s the police officer who brought me here?”

  “He’s gone,” the older suit said. “Take a seat.”

  Towers did what he was told. “This had better be good.” With his tone Towers attempted to hide his fear and sound authoritative, but failed miserably on both counts.

  “My name is Assistant Director Caravini, and this is Agent Crouten.” Caravini took a seat at the opposite end of the table so he could face Towers.

  Towers angled his head, processing the information. “Where are you from?”

  Caravini glared. “FBI.”

  Towers flinched.

  “Financial crimes unit,” Crouten added slowly for emphasis.

  “What’s the FBI got to do with me?” Towers sat on his hands and shifted his weight on the sticky plastic chair. Inside his shirt, he could feel a trickle of moisture running from one of his armpits. “There must be some sort of mistake. I’m here for a traffic violation, I think.”

  Caravini gave no answer and watched Towers as he absorbed everything, allowing fear of the unknown to work its magic.

  “What do you want?” Towers broke the silence with a hint of panic now in his voice.

  Caravini leaned his forearms on the table and clasped his hands. “We don’t like what you’ve been up to. We’d expect better from a professional working at Dudek’s.”

  Towers sat upright. How did they know where he worked? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play games with us. We know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

  “Look, I’m really not trying to be difficult here. What is it you think I’ve done? I’m sure this is all some kind of mistake.”

  “There’s no mistake.” Caravini looked as if he was about to spit. “Why have you been visiting Cedar Street?”

  Towers thought for a moment. “In Manhattan?”

  “Of course, Manhattan.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand a word of this.” Towers glanced at Crouten and then looked back to Caravini. “I’m not even sure I’ve ever been to Cedar Street.”

  “We haven’t got time for this.” Caravini nodded to Crouten.

  Crouten reached into his attaché case, pulled out an iPad, and turned it on. “Watch this.” He swung it around for Towers to see.

  Towers sat forward and watched the video as it started playing. “What is this?” Although the footage was grainy, he recognized himself walking into an office building next to an Indian restaurant. “That’s me. Where was this taken?”

  Caravini rolled his eyes. “Where do you think?”

  When the video stopped, Crouten grabbed the iPad. “That’s CCTV footage of Cedar Street taken a few weeks ago.”

  “Still maintain you’ve never been there?” asked Caravini.

  “I didn’t say I’d never been there. I said I wasn’t sure. So what if I have? What’s it got to do with you?”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “I have no idea where this is going—”

  “Just answer my question.”

  “I was probably attending to a client matter.”

  “Which client?” Crouten asked.

  “I don’t know. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “It was Grannis, wasn’t it?” said Caravini. “You went to see him.”

  “Is Grannis one of your clients?” asked Crouten.

  “No. The Grannis Fund is not one of our clients.”

  Caravini smirked. “Then you don’t have to worry about breaking any attorney client privilege. What were you doing visiting Grannis?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Caravini stood up, walked over to the other end of the table, and perched on its corner, leaning over Towers. “It’s our business when you pass inside information to criminals. They call that securities fraud where I come from. Of course, as a lawyer, you’d know that.”

  Suddenly, Towers remembered where he’d seen Caravini before. He’d seen him on television during the recent coverage of the Parmadin insider dealing case. His stomach went into cramps. “I don’t…” He looked over to Crouten. “Can I use the bathroom?”

  Crouten stood up and opened the door. “Follow me.”

  Halfway down the corridor was a men’s room. Crouten pushed open the door for Towers. “I’ll be standing right outside in case you get any stupid ideas about running.”

  Towers locked himself in a cubicle. He wasn’t sure whether he was about to be sick. He sat on the toilet seat and tried to calm his breathing. Why on earth did the FBI think he was passing inside information to Grannis? Was he about to be arrested by these people? He fought back the bile rising in his throat.

  Jesus, where’s this going?

  Chapter 26

  “IF I HADN’T CHECKED there were no windows in there, I’d have said you’d made a run for it,” said Crouten when Towers finally came out of the restroom, looking a lot paler than when he went in.

  “I’m sorry.” Towers passed Crouten and headed back to the meeting room.

  “So tell us about the information you’ve been giving to Grannis,” Caravini said, sitting back in his chair. “We want to know everything.”

  Towers made eye contact with his accuser. “I haven’t been passing information to them. I don’t even know Grannis.”

  “Are we still playing games?”

  “I’m telling you the truth. This is all a big mistake.”

  Caravini looked at Crouten. “Tell Mr. Towers here what he can expect to serve when we indict him for securities fraud.”

  Crouten glared at Towers. “Eight to ten years, if you’re lucky.”

  “Plus, you’ll never work as a lawyer again,” Caravini added. “Your career will be over before it even started.”

  “I haven’t done anything. I swear.”

  “What are your parents going to say when they learn their son is a criminal? Your father’s a lawyer, isn’t he?”

  How did they know that? How long had these people been watching him? Towers nodded.

  “Think he’ll be proud of his son when he finds out he lasted less than a year at Dudek’s before being hauled off to prison? This won’t be easy on your parents, I’m certain. My guess is they’ll want to move with all the embarrassment this is going to cause
them in a small place like Jamestown.”

  Crouten could barely suppress a grin. “Sure won’t be easy on them.”

  Towers crossed his arms and hugged his body. “You have this all wrong. I’ve never even met the Grannis people, let alone passed information to them.”

  “That’s not how it looks to us,” said Caravini.

  “Well, you’ve got it wrong.”

  Crouten reached into his case and pulled out some papers. He took his time to spread them out over the table so Towers could see everything. “You worked on Spar’s acquisition of Collar Telecom, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with this?”

  Crouten pointed at the papers. “These here are a bunch of trades by Grannis. Turns out Grannis’s hedge fund bought a whole raft of Collar stock just before the deal was announced. They made millions out of it. How do you think that happened?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Funny thing is,” Caravini said, “those trades were not long after you were filmed going into the Grannis building.”

  “I’d say that’s pretty compelling evidence you tipped them off,” said Crouten.

  Towers shook his head no. “This is all wrong. Yes, I admit I went to their building, but I wasn’t there to meet Grannis. I’ve never met them. I swear.”

  Caravini laughed. “So now you admit you were in their building? Hard not to, I guess, when we have you on CCTV. But you seriously want us to believe the Collar trades were all a coincidence?”

  “He’s in up to his neck,” Crouten said. “One day, Mr. Towers here is working on the acquisition of Collar. He knows everything about it. Then he turns up at Grannis who, days later, makes millions trading in the stock. A stock he’s never owned before, I might add.”

  “Case closed,” Caravini said. “There’s no other credible explanation; least that’s what a jury will think.”

  Towers swallowed. “I was gathering information on the Grannis Hedge Fund. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, right,” Crouten said.

  “It’s the truth. I was asked by my partner to do some research on Grannis.”

  Caravini leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his face full of incredulity. “Exactly why would he ask you to do that?”

  “Because he was thinking about taking them on as a new client.”

  “So what happened? You just told us they weren’t a client.”

  “I found out a few things about Grannis my boss didn’t like, so we decided not to accept them as a client. That’s all that happened here. The last thing I would do is—”

  “So it’s just a coincidence Grannis found out about your Collar deal and made millions from it?” Caravini shook his head. “Is that really what you’re asking us to believe? Come on. We all know what went down here. You met Grannis to pass on inside information. How much did he pay you?”

  “I told you I was working for my partner.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Michael Hoffman.”

  Caravini looked at Crouten, who smiled. “So how did Grannis find out about the Collar deal if it wasn’t from you? Answer that one for me.”

  Towers looked down at the table. There was no way Michael would have passed on details of the deal to Grannis. What reason would he have? After all, it was Michael who decided to reject Grannis as a new client the moment he learned they weren’t completely legit.

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” He looked up at Caravini. “Am I under arrest?”

  “Not yet. Depends on how helpful you want to be.”

  “I don’t understand. I’ve told you everything. There’s nothing more to tell.”

  “I’m not saying we believe you, but it is possible you’re not the one we’re after.”

  “You mean—”

  Caravini uncrossed his arms. “There’s a slim chance Hoffman is the source. Let’s say we remain open to that possibility.”

  “Michael wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  “Do you want to help us or not?”

  “What is it you want from me?”

  “We want to know what other deals Hoffman is working on in future. If we can trace any of them to Grannis, and we can see you’re not the one passing on the information, then maybe someone else will become our target.”

  “I’m not convinced anyone is passing on information. Certainly, I’m not.”

  “That remains to be proven.” Caravini sat forward. “Let me put it this way. Unless you’re able to provide us with information on Hoffman, you will remain our prime suspect.”

  Crouten threw his business card across the desk to Towers. “That’s how you get hold of us. If you think it might be relevant, tell us about it.”

  “Now get out of here,” said Caravini.

  Chapter 27

  “DID YOU GET IT DONE?” Michael asked as Towers entered his office the following morning.

  His associate looked worn out and walked with the stoop of an old man. “Yes. I finished it up last night.” He sat across the desk from Michael and handed him a slim report, not once making eye contact.

  “I’ll only have time to flick through this on the way over to Corton Zander, so talk me through the headlines. Tell me what I need to know on the target.”

  “Sure.” Towers opened his copy of the report and scanned it. “K-Mines is the largest listed mining group in Europe. It’s listed on the London stock exchange, although its main activity is in Kazakhstan. That’s where most of the people work and where the head office is located.”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever been to Kazakhstan.” Michael launched Google Maps on his browser. “Let’s see exactly where it is.” He narrowed his eyes at the screen.

  “It gets more exotic. They also have operations in Russia, China, and a host of countries in Africa. I guess these are the places they’ve found their various alloys and ores over the years.”

  “What’s the market cap?”

  “It’s big. Almost ten billion pounds. They employ around eighty thousand people.”

  “Okay. I’m going to have to go.” Michael held up the report. “This is good work, Glen. I know you didn’t have much time. I’ll take it with me and make sure Etling sees we’ve put in some initial homework. She’ll like that.”

  Michael jumped in a cab and made his way across town to Corton Zander’s glass cage on Liberty Street for his briefing with Etling. In the two weeks since the Spar deal had completed, she’d given him three new pieces of work. The K-Mines deal was by far the biggest and would represent yet another seven figure fee for Dudek’s, something which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jenks when he’d run through the firm’s pipework of activity with Michael a few days ago. It was funny…The less Michael wanted to win new work, the more it seemed to pile in. And the last thing he needed right now were more transactions. They’d only have to be shared with Rondell. Now that he was threatening his family, Michael would have to pass on the details of every deal he worked on, as much as he detested the idea.

  After paying the driver, he made his way up to see Etling. Only her best contacts were ever invited into her own office rather than one of the dull meeting rooms. This was her way of letting people know they were trusted members of her inner sanctum. Michael had long been one of the privileged few so, whenever he visited on his own, they met in her large corner suite, complete with row upon row of deal tombstones hanging on the walls, confirming her as one of Corton Zander’s heavy hitters. The main window looked toward Battery Park and to the Hudson River beyond. The room reeked of status and power.

  “Michael,” she said, smiling and extending her hand as she rose from behind her desk. “Good to see you.” She pointed to two armchairs next to the smaller window. “Let’s sit here.”

  Michael sat in one of them and then opened his briefcase. He took out the report Towers had prepared for him over the weekend and rested it on the table in front of them so Etling could see it.

  “I see you’ve already done some rese
arch.”

  “A little. I wanted to know something about the target before we met.”

  “And what do you think?” Etling poured them both a coffee from the flask which had been placed in the middle of the table.

  “Looks like a sizeable company. The market cap’s around fifteen billion dollars.”

  “It’s a big deal for our client, too. They’re going to bid around twenty-five billion for it. That’s not firm yet, but that’s the figure they have in mind. They need to do some more due diligence on K-Mines first.”

  “That’s quite some premium.”

  Immediately, Michael’s mind turned to the profit Rondell would make on such a deal. If the stock price remained as it was today, Rondell’s fund would make a sixty-seven percent gain on every share it bought the moment the deal was announced. He’d make even more out of this one than he had on the Spar deal.

  “They believe they have to pay that kind of figure to win it.”

  Michael sat back in his chair, holding his coffee. “What can we do to help at this stage?”

  “I need you to help us out on some of the key diligence.”

  “What do you need?”

  Etling walked over to her desk and retrieved some papers, which she handed to Michael when she sat back down. “That’s a summary of their main mining contracts. As you’ll see, most of them are in Kazakhstan.”

  Michael nodded. “We picked that up during our research.”

  “Let’s just say our client likes to do things by the book. They’re conservative. At the moment, all of their activity is based in the US and Canada. They like the profits K-Mines is making, but they’re shitting themselves over the countries in which it operates.”

  “I can understand that.” Michael pointed to the papers Etling had just given him. “Business can be a little different in some of these places.”

  “That’s why I need you to come with me to Kazakhstan next week. I need you to take a look at the key contracts. If they don’t look completely kosher, our client won’t bid.”

  “No problem. I’ll bring an associate with me, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course. I’ll arrange the tickets. You and I can sit together on the way over so we can discuss everything, as I’m strapped for time this week.”