‘I was told that there would be only one person,’ Aditya began the conversation. He looked at the clean-shaven man, who had introduced himself as Gurria Trevino.
‘Yes. Only one. But what you want to do, you need him for that,’ he spoke in broken English. ‘He Enrique Nieto,’ Trevino introduced the other Mexican.
‘OK.’ Aditya didn’t know what to say.
‘He got account in San Diego.’
‘Do you know what we need?’ Aditya asked him.
‘Yes. We get call. Our bank in Boston call yesterday.’ Aditya heaved a sigh of relief. So GB2 Boston had called their Mexico City branch and got Trevino to meet him. Nalin’s contacts had worked. ‘You want to transfer forty million dollar to America.’
Aditya nodded.
‘Bank fee one million. Me fee one million. Enrique fee half million. OK?’
Aditya was shocked. He didn’t know if this was usual, but he didn’t have a choice. Narayanan wanted to move his money out of Geneva. Neither of them wanted to be caught bringing in forty million dollars of unexplained money into the United States of America.
Narayanan started to say something. Aditya kept his hand on his leg and stopped him. ‘I am fine with this deal.’ He stared at Enrique, wondering who he was. Trevino understood what was running through Aditya’s mind.
‘Enrique have account in San Diego. Account in Mexico too. You transfer money to Enrique account in Mexico. He give you access to forty million in San Diego account. You get chequebook, online password and ATM card. You change password. Use account. Enrique forget his account in San Diego.’
‘How do I trust you?’ Aditya asked him.
‘You come all the way to not trust?’ And Trevino opened his bag and pulled out his credentials. In any case, his GB2 Mexico identity card was hanging at his waist. Aditya excused himself and stepped out of the bar. He called Nalin in Boston. He had made this trip on Nalin’s recommendation. Putting Aditya on hold, Nalin called his counterpart in Mexico. Within three minutes, he was back on the line. ‘Trevino is one of the best they have. You can blindly do as he says.’
Aditya returned to the bar visibly relaxed. The hostile look that had appeared on Trevino’s face when Aditya had spoken about trust had gone. Enrique opened his laptop. The deal was about to go through.
‘Can we do this on my laptop?’ Aditya recommended.
‘Sure.’ Enrique shrugged his shoulders. That was the first time he spoke.
‘First transfer full fee.’ Trevino demanded. ‘Only bank fee.’ Aditya electronically transferred a million dollars into the fee account of GB2 Mexico. An account whose number was provided to him by Trevino.
After that, Enrique logged in to his account with a local bank in San Diego. When Aditya looked at the account his heart skipped a beat. It was in a completely different name. Enrique gave all the details to Aditya. Aditya changed the password required to access the account, to make sure that Enrique could never access the account again. Narayanan kept all the related documents in the bag he was carrying with him.
The next transfer was of thirty-nine million dollars to the account of Enrique Nieto with GB2 Mexico. Enrique took over and transferred thirty-seven and a half million dollars from another American account to the account in San Diego.
In exchange for forty million dollars which were lying in an account in Geneva, Aditya and Narayanan had got control of thirty-seven and a half million dollars, accessible in the United States of America. Something which no one in India would even get a whiff of. He had derived comfort from Nalin’s words that this was the standard operating procedure for laundering money into the United States. GB2 Mexico, Nalin said, had full accountability and if something did go wrong, they always recovered the money.
Early next morning, the two of them took a flight back home, and by late afternoon, they were back in Boston.
‘How was the interview?’ Cirisha asked him the moment she saw him enter the house.
‘Not worth it. No point pursuing further. Let’s see what Cambridge Partners has to offer,’ said Aditya as he walked into the bathroom for a long warm shower.
46
29th May
Boston
In a glittering press event on the evening of 29th May, the final shortlist of three books for the Bancroft Prize was announced. As expected, Deahl’s book had made it. He was tipped by most people in the know to be the frontrunner. The NRA had put its muscle behind this book. The organizers of the Bancroft Prize were known for their Republican leanings, making them favourably disposed towards Staring Down the Barrel. But in the final analysis, all that mattered was that Deahl was a step closer to the award.
News channels that night were sharply divided. Appearing on Fox News, Deahl spoke in depth about how he and his team went about their research. Cirisha was at home, watching it on TV with Aditya. Narayanan was asleep, he was tired after the stressful trip to Mexico.
‘It took the team over nine months of intensive data gathering and analysis to get down to this level of detailing.’
‘Oh yes,’ the anchor agreed. ‘You even went down to state prisons and interviewed felons and convicts who were involved in gun crime, didn’t you? Tell us about that.’
‘Yes, Stella. It was an absolutely fascinating experience. My team went to various state prisons and interviewed over a thousand convicts. From Vermont to Miami and from Seattle to Los Angeles, the team visited over four hundred prisons and interviewed inmates. Ninety-five per cent of those convicts had committed the crime using illegally obtained weapons. Something which gun control can’t fix. And over 70 per cent of them had said that even if guns had not been available, given their state of mind at the time that they committed the crime, they would still have done what they did. That’s not it, Stella. A significant number of inmates in various prisons across the country—California, New York, Boston and many others—said that the possibility of the victim being armed had prevented them from committing more crimes. Guns have, in fact, kept our crime rate low.’
Cirisha was appalled when she heard this. ‘What a liar!’ Aditya looked at her, wondering what was getting her so excited.
‘David Windle told me that Richard was to visit the Boston state prison, but never did. Windle had sought the required permissions and got them for Richard, who never got in touch with him. So what Boston prison inmate analysis is James talking about? Ridiculous.’
‘Are you sure?’ Aditya tried to calm her nerves.
‘Absolutely. Unless of course they didn’t do the analysis in Windle’s prison, but went to some other prison in Boston. There are three prisons that I know of. Something doesn’t seem to be right here. I need to talk it out with Michael tomorrow. He needs to know.’
‘Just make sure you have your facts right before you accuse anyone, Cirisha. Richard could have been the culprit here. He could have fudged the data without telling James. We can’t be sure James did it. We Indians are genetically wired to be suspicious about everything.’
‘Hmm …’ Her gut told her that something was wrong. She knew that Richard couldn’t have committed what she thought was a basic mistake. She chose to keep quiet.
47
30th May
Boston
Cirisha called Windle five times that morning before he called back.
‘Only lawyers call me a dozen times. You are the first civilian to do so. I am sure it was important enough.’ Cirisha knew that Windle meant no offence.
‘Lieutenant,’ she began, ‘you mentioned to me that Richard had called you sometime last year to fix up a meeting.’
‘Oh, Mr Avendon, the guy who did target practice in the classroom. Well, yes. Mr Richard Avendon had called up. He wanted to interview some prisoners. He even came and met me. Procedurally we need the state police department head’s nod to let anyone treat inmates like research subjects. We had gone through the entire rigour. Got all the approvals. But he never came after that.’
‘In his place, did anyone else come and m
eet the inmates?’
‘No, no one came. My office might still have the approval copy. No one even bothered to collect the approval from the state police HQ.’ And after a pause, he added, ‘But why this sudden interest in the research, Ms Narayanan?’
‘I heard the author of the book, Staring Down the Barrel, speak on Fox News yesterday. He spoke of the research conducted by his team in the Boston state prison. I remembered our conversation and that’s why I was surprised. So I thought I would check with you.’
‘I’m not sure if that was an accurate representation by the author. But now that you ask, let me check.’ There was a moment’s silence followed by some chatter. Windle walked over to his assistant’s desk and asked her to check on the approval for the research given to Richard. Cirisha held on. Within a couple of minutes, Windle came back on the line. ‘I just found the copy of the approval. It’s right here. No one even collected it, let alone meet the inmates.’
‘Then how?’ Cirisha wondered.
‘There is no chance that anyone came and interviewed the inmates. I can confirm that.’
‘Is there a possibility that they went to some other prison under the state jurisdiction?’
‘Miss, there are three county prisons in Boston. When such approvals are granted, they are prison specific. And until and unless the approval granted for one prison is either utilized or revoked, no other approvals are given. Hence the chances of them having interviewed inmates of some other prison in Boston are as remote as Bin Laden walking into the White House on Christmas day, all wrapped up in red, and claiming that Santa dropped him there.’
‘Thanks, lieutenant.’ The moment she hung up, she reached for the book lying in front of her. She had specifically checked this last night after she heard Deahl’s interview. Page 228. The table clearly showed the number of inmates interviewed and their location. Against the Boston state prison, was a number: 23. ‘God only knows how many of these are fabricated in the name of research,’ she said, picking up her cup of espresso and taking a sip. The book had conveniently hidden behind the façade of confidentiality and steered clear of divulging the names of inmates who had been interviewed. She kicked herself for having ignored the data when she read it the first time.
As she was glancing through the book to discover possible anomalies, Aditya called. ‘I’m leaving, Cirisha. Let’s hope things work out.’
‘Best of luck, Aditya.’
‘Thanks. What did the cop say?’
‘Nothing different from what he had said in the past. James is lying, Aditya. No clue why he would do that. It’s wrong and revolting. Such a senior person fabricating his research. He could lose his tenure if this is proven. THE professor James Deahl has fallen from grace.’
‘Hmm. I need to leave now, let’s talk later at night.’ And he hung up.
Cirisha checked if Cardoza was in office, picked up the book from the table and walked straight into his cabin.
‘Michael, I need to talk.’
‘You look harried. What happened?’
‘I have evidence that James fudged his research. The research that half the country is going ballistic about is based on data which is a figment of James’s imagination.’ And she told him about her conversation with Windle. James was a liar. He had committed one of the three cardinal sins of academia.
‘James is a seasoned player. I seriously doubt that he would have fudged his data.’
‘Maybe he did that in bits and pieces. Not the entire data. The part about the Boston state prison surely is fudged, Michael. Why he did that I have no clue. But I spoke with the lieutenant from the Boston Police Department. He has confirmed whatever I have mentioned to you.’
‘What do you want me to do? Take it up with the institute?’
‘Yes, Michael. Don’t you think that will be the right thing to do?’
‘I do, but I am trying to pre-empt what the institute will say. For all you know, they can just turn around and say that it was not an officially sanctioned research report. He published it outside the university, without waiting for the university’s blessings.’
‘Does that mean we will not take it head on?’
‘No, no, Cirisha. That’s not what I am saying. We have to do something about it. If after this revelation the book wins the Bancroft Prize, it will be tragic. But how and what is something we have to think through carefully. We cannot fail once we take it up. Let’s make it a watertight case before we take it up with the institute.’
‘True.’ Cirisha thought for a moment. What Michael was saying made sense. They only had evidence that the Boston prison information was incorrect. What about the rest? One mistake could be put down to human error. She had to dig deeper. And if the Boston prison was the only mistake in the research, Deahl was sure to dump it on Richard’s head.
She turned to leave.
‘And Cirisha,’ Michael called out, ‘we are meeting at three today to finalize the analysis for both your project and Erica’s. I hope you are feeling up to it?’ She just nodded.
Aditya walked into the forty-eight-storeyed building in downtown Boston. The imposing building was home to Cambridge Partners, one of the largest hedge fund firms in America. He was led on to a superfast elevator which took him straight to the chairman’s office on the forty-seventh floor. There he was ushered into a large room appointed with exquisite furniture. Tables of pure teak and seats upholstered with pure leather straight from the tanneries of South Asia and designed by fashion designers from Italy added a dash of arrogance to the room. A chairman of a hedge fund had to have such luxuries.
‘Good afternoon, young man.’ Aditya turned, only to be confronted by a short pot-bellied man. He would have at best been in his mid-forties. He looked like a man used to living well. They hit it off. The interview was a breeze. After about forty-five minutes, the chairman got up, excused himself and walked out. He requested Aditya to wait.
It was not a long wait. In a couple of minutes, three other men joined Aditya. Dressed in pinstripes, they all looked like accomplished bankers.
‘Good afternoon.’ Aditya stood up out of courtesy. The three of them just nodded. The one in the centre, a well-built tall gentleman—would have been six foot four at least—seemed to be more senior than the rest. The body language of the other two confirmed that hypothesis. The lack of introductions peeved Aditya.
‘Mr Raisinghania,’ the one in the centre began, ‘Mr Chairman was lavish in showering his praise on your candidature to join this fund.’
‘Thank you. He is being kind.’
‘We know that.’ The reply was curt and unexpected. It wiped the smile from Aditya’s face. ‘We believe your wife works at MIT?’
‘Yes, she is an assistant professor there.’
‘Social Psychology. We have also heard that she is showing undue interest in investigating the incongruities or rather the alleged inconsistencies in the research conducted by a colleague. Quite unnecessary, I must confess, Mr Raisinghania.’
‘How is that relevant to this conversation? The chairman never mentioned anything about his interest in my wife’s career.’
‘Let me explain. As you might be aware, a hedge fund invests its patrons’ money in various industries and papers that give high returns. Most of these investments are not made public.’
The look on Aditya’s face showed that he didn’t understand the context. ‘So?’
‘We have investments in various gun-manufacturing units. To be precise, 22 per cent of our investments are in such firms. So we wouldn’t want any of our employees’ families to sabotage our investments. If your wife does not give up the tirade against Staring Down the Barrel, which is such a wonderful piece of research, the controversy it is going to stir up will hurt us. And we can’t have someone like you in the team, especially at a time when your wife is hell-bent on harming us.’
‘I have no control over that. It’s her life. She does what she pleases.’
‘Maybe then you should try talking to h
er. Else she might end up harming herself.’
‘What the hell? Are you threatening me?’
‘Mr Raisinghania, you seem to be an intelligent man. It would be tragic if we were to lose you on account of something so frivolous. And mind you, Mr Raisinghania, the gun manufacturers are known to be extremely ruthless.’ They turned and walked out, leaving him alone in the room shell-shocked. Aditya picked up his bag a worried man. This was becoming bigger and scarier than what he had imagined it to be. He walked out of the room, with none of the fanfare with which he had been ushered in.
‘Thank you,’ he heard someone say. He turned just in time to see the chairman shake the burly man’s hand. ‘You are welcome, Lucier. Anything for you.’
When he mentioned this conversation to Nalin, the latter had no idea of how and why the conversation had taken the turn that it had. ‘But Aditya, it’s better to be careful and not get into a conflict with these people,’ Nalin told him. Aditya didn’t say anything, he just hung up. He was worried because Cirisha would not listen to him. She always acted on instinct. However, this time, he was worried it had gone too far.
‘You are making too many enemies, Cirisha. I am getting worried. Your safety was the first thing that crossed my mind when these guys at Cambridge Partners spoke to me. They are rich guys with connections. And rich guys don’t like to get hurt. This is the first time someone has threatened me. I was too shocked to even respond.’ When Aditya said this, much to his annoyance, Cirisha smiled.
‘You know, Aditya. This only strengthens my resolve. It proves that there is something there which they don’t want me to go digging for. Don’t you think so?’
‘I don’t know about that. All I know is that these Americans will do anything to protect their turf.’
48
Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) Page 17
