Caravini pondered on what Abi had just told him. “Let’s just say he disappointed me.”
“From his reaction, I’d say it looked more serious than that.”
“Interesting.”
In the three years they’d worked together, Caravini had learned Abi was a good judge of people. She had an ability to understand body language and could read between the lines in a way he found difficult to do. Why would Crouten appear so worried after their meeting? He hadn’t given him that hard a time. Was he hiding something?
“Anyway, find out who else he was working with besides Kaminski.”
“I’ll let you know.” She stood up to leave.
“There’s something else I need.”
“Okay.”
“I want you to bring me the Grannis surveillance log.”
“Won’t it be on the system?”
“Sure, but I want to see the original log notes. They’ll be in the case files.”
“I assume Floyd is not to know about this, too?”
“You got it. Can you bring them to me right away?”
“Of course. I’ll get you some water, as well.”
Chapter 41
KAMINSKI LOOKED WORRIED when he turned up at Caravini’s office that afternoon. He’d never been summoned to a meeting with the assistant director on his own before.
He tapped on the open door. “You wanted to see me?”
“That’s right,” Caravini said. “Shut the door and take a seat.”
The headache had faded, but his irritable mood had worsened as a result of what he’d since read on the Grannis surveillance log. The records showed there was much more evidence than Crouten had led him to believe this morning. Something was not right, and Caravini was intent on getting to the bottom of it.
Kaminski spotted the Grannis file as he took the seat on the other side of the desk. “Should I ask Floyd to join us?”
“No. I’ll be meeting with him later.” Caravini flicked through the log. “How many times would you say you’ve seen Hoffman meeting with Grannis?”
Kaminski thought for a moment. “Five, maybe six times.”
“Always at Cedar Street?”
“No, there was one time we trailed Hoffman to Brooklyn.”
“Brooklyn?” Caravini ran back and forward through the paper records. “There’s no mention of that in here and nothing on the system.”
“There should be. I wrote it up myself.”
“It’s not here, I’m telling you.”
“I can’t explain that. I’m sorry.”
Caravini blew air through his teeth, and his shoulders sank. “Tell me about Brooklyn.”
“Well, we followed Hoffman in his car to a warehouse down near the container port. We didn’t actually see him meet Grannis there, but the car parked outside the building was registered to one of Grannis’s companies, so we put two and two together.”
“Who’s we?”
“Sorry. Floyd and I.”
“There’s nothing here about a car registered to a Grannis company.”
“That note must be there. Floyd wrote it up after Towers came in here and told him the company was linked to Grannis.”
Caravini shook his head. “What is this? Amateur hour? I’ve been through this thing several times. There’s no note of a meeting here with Towers, only the one I attended in Connecticut. Floyd said he’d spoken to Towers since, but I assumed that was on the phone, not face to face.”
“He definitely came in here to see Floyd. Something’s gone wrong with the filing. I know the note of the Towers meeting was in there. I saw it myself.”
Caravini stopped himself before swearing. “I can’t work like this. There’s nothing on the system, either. It’s like I’m working with a bunch of imbeciles.”
“I’ll look into it right after this.”
“Did Towers have anything else to say when he saw Floyd? Besides linking the car to a Grannis company.”
“You bet he did. Something that got Floyd and me really excited. He said he’d seen a call from Grannis on Hoffman’s cell phone. He had no idea what the call was about, but Floyd said it proved a strong connection between them.”
“Okay.” Caravini bit his tongue. “I’ll pick that up with Floyd.” He pushed the file to one side. “When did the surveillance cease?”
“About a month ago.”
“For what reason?”
“Floyd just announced one day that he thought the investigation was going nowhere and told me to stop what I was doing on it. He said he’d discussed it with you, and that’s what you wanted. Said you were concerned it was wasting resources.”
“We’re done for now. Can you ask Floyd to come and see me right away?”
Kaminski kept wringing his hands. “I hope I haven’t said anything I shouldn’t have…”
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know. You seem a little upset.”
“You’ve told me the truth, haven’t you?”
“Of course.”
“And there’s nothing more I need to know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then you’ve done the right thing. I’m not upset with you.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Floyd you want to see him right away.”
“You do that.”
What the hell was Crouten thinking? How could he terminate the investigation when the evidence was so compelling? And why was half the file missing? If someone wanted to crater the Grannis investigation, they couldn’t have done a better job of it.
The headache returned but, this time, it felt like a woodpecker with a migraine.
Chapter 42
THE FIRST JOURNALIST TO ARRIVE was from The Wall Street Journal, and she turned up at eight for her power breakfast meeting with Caravini. The next two arrived at nine and ten for their “exclusive” interviews with the city’s crusader against financial crime. While their questions were different, Caravini made sure he covered the same ground: yes, he was about to expose another major securities conspiracy; yes, it would lead to multiple indictments; and yes, it involved another corrupt asset management firm making money from inside information. Oh, and by the way, he had no objection to posing for photographs if it helped better communicate his zero tolerance message to the great people of New York City.
“Coffee?” Abi asked as Caravini passed her desk on the way back to his office.
He’d held the interviews in the special media room, where the lighting was better for the photographs and the furniture was newer. The last thing he wanted was the public to see the cramped, low-budget reality of their future mayor’s existing office space. That would do nothing for the image. He had to appear as if he already held a high-status position if he wanted the electorate to take him seriously.
“I couldn’t take another one. I’ve been drinking it all morning. Just glad those interviews are over.”
“Floyd’s been looking for you. He apologized for missing you last night.” She winked at him. “He said something came up at the last minute.”
“I bet it did. Tell him to come and see me right now.” He carried on toward his room. “And I don’t want any interruptions once he’s here.”
There was a timid tap on the door a few moments later, then Crouten put his head around. “Brad tells me there are some notes missing from the log.” He started making his way toward his usual spot.
“Not there.” Caravini pointed to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. He needed to eyeball Crouten this time. “I want you here.”
“Do you want me to have a look for the missing notes? They’ve probably been misfiled. They won’t have gone far.”
“No. I’ll tell you what I want.” Caravini picked up the log and held it in the air. “I want to know why this is a worthless piece of shit.” He threw it back onto the desk with a bang.
“Some things are missing. I know.”
“Not just missing. They were never put onto the system in the first plac
e. It’s like they never existed.”
“Once I find them, I’ll take care of the filing myself.”
“It’s too late for that. Yesterday, you told me Hoffman had been seen only once at Grannis’s offices. That wasn’t true, was it?”
Crouten wriggled in the chair. “There may have been a couple of other times, but nothing significant. Nothing worth mentioning, anyway.”
“Is that right? What about the sighting in Brooklyn?”
“Yeah, there was one—”
“What about the car outside the warehouse on Sullivan Street traced back to a Grannis-owned company? You’re telling me these are not significant? What else did you learn from Towers that you’re not sharing with me?”
Crouten licked his lips. “Look, I met with Towers, and it was clear he and Hoffman are innocent. At least, that was my judgment.”
“That meeting’s not even recorded on the file.”
“I can’t explain that, but I can assure you nothing material came from it.”
“Then how would you characterize the call from Grannis on Hoffman’s cell phone?”
Crouten’s face turned red, and he stared at the top of the desk. “I’m still convinced there’s nothing going on.”
Caravini shook his head. “There’s all this compelling evidence right under your nose, and you still say there’s nothing going on. What’s wrong with you, man? Are you taking some sort of medication?”
Crouten’s jawbone was grinding slowly. “I thought—”
“I don’t give a damn what you think any longer. As of this morning, this investigation has been reopened. I’m going to handle it myself.”
“It’ll be a waste of time.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
“Look, if you’re going to keep the investigation open anyway, I might as well head it up since I have all the background detail.”
“You’re going nowhere near the case. I’m moving you off my team.”
Crouten swallowed. “Where to?”
“I haven’t decided yet. For now, I want you to remain in this building, where I can keep an eye on you. If you need to leave the building, you come and see me first. Got that?”
“Is that really necessary?”
“I’m going to have a word with Washington. I want you moved back there as soon as I can arrange it. Maybe accounting or human resources; something that calls for much less judgment, because you’ve demonstrated you don’t have any.”
“But I can—”
“I don’t want to hear it. You’re not cut out for fieldwork.”
“I know I’ve let you down, Fab. I hold my hands up. I screwed up on this one.”
“You did more than that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You lied to me, and there’s nothing I detest more than liars.” Caravini pointed to the door. “Now get out of my office.”
After Crouten left, Caravini pulled together a team and briefed them on the newly reopened investigation into the Grannis Hedge Fund and its connections with Dudek, Collins, & Hamilton and any other market players. None of the team had ever worked with Crouten, except Kaminski, whom Caravini thought he could trust. Besides, Kaminski would provide continuity and would be able to fill in the gaps left on the file. Caravini stressed the importance of this investigation to the reputation of the department and assured them that any and all resources would be made available to get quick results. This was going to be a biggie. It was so important that he was going to take personal charge of the case. The press was watching, and another high-profile success, right after the Parmadin convictions, would serve as a huge lesson to those on Wall Street who thought they could manipulate the system and make illicit profits. Of course, what he failed to mention was that another head on the plate now would do wonders for his mayoral campaign, too.
Strutting back from the meeting room, Caravini thought about the evidence he had on Grannis and Hoffman. While there was certainly enough to warrant an ongoing investigation, where Crouten had been right was that, so far, there was nothing to prove inside information was actually being passed to Grannis. It was all circumstantial at this time. They needed more hard proof.
If Grannis had links to Dudek’s, then it was fair to assume his connections went wider, reaching into other professional services firms. It was likely his reach extended to the major accounting firms and investment banks, too. Maybe, as Crouten had once said, Grannis was the real trophy target in this investigation. Bring him down, and you capture a lot more people in the net with him. Imagine the publicity that would be generated if he could indict partners and directors from a number of the city’s leading institutions and advisory firms.
As he returned to his desk, the idea entered his head. There was already sufficient dirt on Hoffman to embarrass him, perhaps even ruin his career. If he could lean on Hoffman hard enough, maybe he could get the evidence he needed to bring down Grannis and, with him, all the other criminal scum in his network. Yes, Hoffman was the way to crack this case, and the best way to start putting pressure on him was through his boss, Art Jenks.
Chapter 43
ALTHOUGH HE DIDN’T SHOW IT when he walked in, Caravini was impressed by the spacious corner office occupied by the senior partner at Dudek, Collins, & Hamilton LLP. When he made mayor, he, too, would have an office just like this, something commensurate with his true status. Unlike most of the Manhattan power brokers whose offices he’d visited, he didn’t despise Jenks the trappings of his success. Jenks had come up the hard way, like him, starting from a humble beginning and reaching his position through hard work, ambition, and intelligence.
While he’d known Jenks for almost ten years, this was the first time he’d met him at Dudek’s headquarters. Most of their previous encounters had been at conferences and social functions around the city. But this meeting was different. Once Caravini had mentioned he had something sensitive to discuss, Jenks had invited him into the inner sanctum, where privacy would be guaranteed.
Jenks was in his early sixties, perma-tanned and with a swept-back silver mane that made no attempt to hide his receding hairline. Affable and impeccably polite, he’d charmed his way to the top of the tree at Dudek’s. To clients, he was a magnet, bringing in work from Fortune 500 companies and government departments with an apparent ease that infuriated the firm’s competitors.
Caravini clocked the million dollar view over Times Square as he took one of the sofas next to the south-facing window. Jenks sat on the other sofa while one of his two personal assistants brought in their drinks on a silver tray. She poured Caravini’s Earl Grey tea into a porcelain cup and then did the same for Jenks. In truth, Caravini would have preferred a coffee, but he’d copied Jenks’s choice of beverage, not wanting to appear uncultured. If this is what the elite drank, then he’d develop a taste for it, too.
“What was it you needed to see me about?” Jenks asked when his assistant had left the room. “You sounded a little concerned when you called.”
Caravini took one sip of the tea and winced before returning his cup and saucer to the table. Clasping his hands together, he said, “It’s a delicate matter, one I thought was better handled face to face.” He paused and then: “It concerns one of our investigations.”
“We’d be delighted to assist. The firm has a lot of experience in—”
Caravini raised his hand. He had to stop Jenks from going into auto-pilot with his sales pitch. “I’m sorry, Art, but this is not about Dudek’s. At least, it’s not about how you can help us in a professional capacity.”
The semi-permanent smile morphed into a slight frown. “Oh, I’m sorry. I misunderstood. What is it you need from us, then?”
“Actually, nothing from the firm.”
Jenks cocked his head. “I don’t follow.”
“I need your help as the senior partner here.”
“If there is anything I can do. But you said it concerns one of your investigations?”
Caravini began reachi
ng for his cup and then remembered what was in it and stopped. “It’s another insider trading case we’re working on—a big one. And it has a connection with your firm.”
Jenks narrowed his eyes. “Do you mean one of our clients?” There was a hint of panic in his voice.
“Not really.”
“Thank goodness for that. You had me worried for a moment.”
Caravini moved to the edge of the sofa. “It’s actually much worse than that.” He watched Jenks recoil. “We believe one of your partners could be involved.”
Even with the perma-tan, Jenks paled as the consequences of what he’d just heard began to sink in. Caravini now had the senior partner exactly where he wanted him, terrified about what this could mean for his precious firm’s reputation.
“Are you certain about this?” Jenks asked, deep furrows appearing across his forehead.
“No. We’re not completely certain just yet, but the evidence is beginning to point in one direction.”
Caravini was not about to share the details his team had uncovered so far. At this stage, all he wanted to achieve was to have Jenks spooked enough to start putting pressure on Hoffman. And once Hoffman had been softened up, then he’d make his move.
“What, precisely, are you suggesting has been done?”
“We believe one of your partners, or his staff, is passing on information before deals are announced to the market.”
“Passing on to whom?”
“I can’t say, but what I can tell you is the recipient has been under our spotlight for some time. We’re pretty sure some of their inside information is coming from Dudek’s.”
Jenks sat in silence for a moment, looking lost for words. “I find all this very hard to believe. Can you at least let me have a name? Which partner?”
“Michael Hoffman.”
“Michael?” Jenks’s normally silken voice was raised in alarm. “Then I know this is a mistake. Michael would never do anything like this. Apart from it being completely out of character, why would he need to do it?”
“If it isn’t him, it’ll be someone very close to him. How about his team?”
Once a Killer Page 22
