Zero Sum

by Russell Blake

  “Keep me informed, Stewart. This is receiving the highest levels of visibility. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal, Rick. Crystal.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Glen Vesper weighed up the ramifications of the current situation. On the one hand, his friend and client had just had his life destroyed in the press. Even if none of it were true, and Glen had no illusions it wasn’t, Griffen would surely be finished running money on the Street. Robert Manson didn’t go to press with an article unless he had all the facts; nor would the Times’ attorneys allow one word of it to be printed unless it read like the gospel and was completely documented. The world would assume it was accurate.

  On the other hand, he would probably be able to bill between half a million and a million this year to defend Griffen. Too bad the insurance didn’t pay in the event of fraud, which they would certainly contend that laundering for drug lords and Nazis amounted to; he couldn’t disagree, really. What had the fool been thinking? He supposed Griffen had never really believed any of it would come to light. Which it wouldn’t have, until someone had gone to great lengths to dig it up and slot the puzzle pieces together. Glen sensed Steven Archer’s presence in the day’s activities, but that was no matter at this juncture. What was done was done.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Glen Vesper.”

  “Mr. Vesper, this is Stewart Pinkerton, of WJ&P. You’ve heard of us?”

  “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  “One of your clients would appear to be in some difficulty as a result of an article in the Times this morning, and I thought I could offer some thoughts on the subject, seeing as we’re substantial investors in his domestic fund.”

  “Why call me? Call Griffen. Shortest distance between two points.” Glen didn’t like this at all.

  “I have an inkling that may be delicate. I believe you’re counsel to his group, and as such we share attorney-client privilege, given that we are large investors,” Stewart reasoned.

  “I could argue that, but consider it to be so. Proceed.”

  “I think I can safely convey that the U.S. structure would be untroubled by any investigations, and the focus would remain on Griffen and the offshore fund, should your man be unavailable for comment.” Stewart should have been a politician.

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Glen asked.

  “Mr. Vesper, if your client was not available, I think we could ensure resources would be deployed in more productive areas than looking for minor white collar criminals outside of U.S. jurisdiction.” Stewart was out of ammo after that. But he did need a concession.

  “That’s a remarkable insight, Stewart. But how do you benefit, or should I perhaps say your clients?” Glen asked.

  “It would be very helpful in building the credibility of the domestic fund back if a new, independent manager was brought in, while the current second-in-command – Matt Conway – ran the day-to-day operations. I think it would also be advisable if my firm pulled our investment, effective last year, and was off the ledger, as it were.” Stewart had now gotten to the meat of it.

  “I can’t fault your desire to distance yourself from the current manager’s alleged behavior; prudence would dictate that. Do you have any ideas for a new permanent manager?” Glen asked. He understood. They wanted the records wiped.

  “I have some ideas, but I’d like to get an agreement in principle first. I’m sure you understand.” Stewart had a hole card, but he wasn’t going to show it until he had a deal.

  “Just to be clear, if my client steps down, effective immediately, in light of all the controversy and these unfair accusations, the domestic fund would remain untouched and there wouldn’t be an international manhunt? No extradition, no long arm of the law?” Glen required clarity on this. “And you have the ability to commit to that, given your relationships and clients, if we remove you from this mess?”

  “Yes, I think you have the essence of the idea. There would be some saber rattling, but at the end of the day your statement would hold true.”

  “Can you be reached at this number?” Glen asked.

  “Always.” Stewart hesitated. “The initiative has a shelf-life, Glen. I wouldn’t take a long time considering it.”

  “Time is money. I’ll get back to you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Griffen’s cell chirped at him. It was Glen, who recounted the deal that had been offered, by cutout, from the VP’s people. He advised Griffen to take it. Glen pointed out that guaranteed prosecution was a far less attractive choice than an assurance he wouldn’t be hounded by the law once he was across a border. Off the record, of course.

  Griffen wasn’t so sure. He sounded flustered.

  Glen told him he had about an hour to consider the deal. In the meantime, he’d work on a statement indicating Griffen would step down as the head of the domestic entity. He also spelled out that he’d require a $500 thousand retainer to defend him, payable today.

  Glen told Griffen to strongly consider the deal and call him back.

  Griffen would never be able to do business again after that. His career would be over, and he’d be unable to salvage the offshore fund due to the Allied play, now that he was all over the newswire. That would create serious difficulty for him with his ‘sensitive’ investors – the hundred million apiece they’d invested with him was beer money to Ecuador or Sergei or the Argentines; but he’d be tainted, and they’d hold a grudge.

  He’d probably do well to lay low and disappear, come to think of it, for a host of reasons. What a mess.

  He was finished. The Street ate its young, and Allied was going to lose most of its value when trading started, meaning his biggest positive – money – would vaporize within a few hours. Hell.

  Griffen called Glen back.

  “I’ve considered the options, and for the good of the fund I’ll step down...” he started out.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Nicholas. You need to get me a check for $500K, or instruct Matt Conway to do so. Then I’d be thinking long vacation if I were you.” Glen had a lot to do, and there was no point in playing nice.

  “Glen, off the record, how about my assets? The house, the place in the Hamptons? What about my domestic bank account? It has about $1.2 million in it. And my money invested in the domestic fund?” Griffen wanted to understand where he stood in terms of resources.

  “Forget about the houses. By the time you could sell those, they’ll have been seized. As for the fund, between the IRS and the DA and the other agencies, that’s gone.” Glen thought about it. “As far as the personal account, you could always pull some cash out once the banks open. Or go down to the diamond district and buy a million dollars worth of smaller stones with a cashier’s check or a wire transfer. They won’t have been able to lock up the funds yet. Hypothetically, of course.” Glen figured that the whole topic of fraudulent conveyance was a lesser issue if you weren’t going to be around to face the charge.

  “Of course.” Griffen understood. Be in Manhattan in an hour or so, hit the 47th Street wholesalers, and have one of them take a walk with him for a block or two to his bank.

  Then hit the road.

  “So just to be clear, you are accepting the deal and will have me issue a press release. And will be cutting me the $500 thousand check?” Glen liked clarity.

  “That’s correct. Looks like I’ll be going into the office for a while this morning after all, to write your check and congratulate Matt.”

  “I’ll stop by. Say 9:30?”

  “That’ll work. See you then.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Griffen called his car service and told them he wouldn’t require the limo today; he’d be driving himself. He packed two suitcases, took a lingering look around the house, then walked to his garage and put the suitcases in the trunk of his black SLS AMG Mercedes.

  He started the car and opened the garage door. Then a thought occurred to him, and he got out and went back and opened the house’s connecti
ng door to the garage, propping it open with a paint can. He went into his kitchen and turned on all the burners on his Viking range, and then blew out the flames. He sniffed, satisfied he smelled gas.

  Griffen trotted back to the car and lowered the garage door. He’d be damned if they’d get their hands on his papers or any of his personal effects. Fuck everyone. The place would blow sky high, just a matter of when. Accidents happened all the time. Hopefully when they rang the bell to serve the warrant.

  For the first time that day, he smiled.

  Checkmate: Chapter 21

  Griffen made it into the office at 8:50 a.m., entering the building through the service entrance. Security had barred the reporters waiting in the lobby from getting into the elevators, so he wasn’t molested when he got to his floor.

  There was a positive hush as he walked through the firm’s doors. He didn’t have a lot of time so he strode straight to his office and sat down, ignoring the tension and the stares. He flipped open the fund checkbook to cut a five hundred thousand dollar retainer check for Glen.

  There were just a few other odds and ends to tie up. Like who was going to run what was left of the fund, and how he could make his exit safely, without attracting undesired attention.

  “Matt? Get in here,” he yelled.

  A minute later Matt came in.

  “Nicholas, I’m just, well, I’m stunned. It’s...well...what do you want us to do?” Matt Conway asked.

  Griffen stared at him. “Congratulations. You are, as of this minute, the new head of Griffen Ventures. There will be a new managing director replacing me soon, but in the meantime, you’re the man,” Griffen told him.

  “I don’t know what to say…”

  “Sorry it didn’t happen under better circumstances – but that’s life in the big city. You’ll do a great job. For now, if I were you, I’d get out of Allied and sell as many call options as you can find buyers for, the further out the better. Then short the stock all the way down.”

  “What are you going to do?” Matt asked.

  “I’m going to go deal with the offshore situation. I’m still the manager of that fund, so I’ll be gone for about a week. Unwinding it will take some finesse with the bankers.” That would explain his absence for a little while, which is all he needed.

  “Anything you want me to do?”

  He handed Matt the envelope with Glen’s check in it.

  “Give this to Glen and tell him I’ll call.”

  Then Nicholas Griffen left his office for the last time.

  He cabbed to West 47th Street and stopped at a jeweler he’d gotten some tennis bracelets from; he ran a wholesale business. High-quality goods; reputable. Griffen explained he needed about a million dollars worth of one to two-carat loose stones, all GIA certified D-E color, VVSI or better. And he needed them within an hour.

  The man didn’t even blink. Just asked what form payment would be in.

  Griffen explained they’d be walking to his bank and getting a cashier’s check; just the jeweler, a security guard, and Nicholas. Would that be a problem?

  Apparently not.

  Forty minutes later they walked into Chase. Griffen asked to see the manager and explained he was making an investment that would require a cashier’s check drawn from his personal account. $1 million even. That got the manager’s attention. Griffen advised him to check his balance, and also look at his company account if he had a problem, which had $24 million in it.

  The manager was back with the cashier’s check in ten minutes. The deal was done. The jeweler and he shook hands and went their different ways; Griffen with $1 million of stones in a small velvet bag, and his jeweler with about a $200 thousand profit. Not a bad morning for one of them.

  Griffen flagged down a cab and gave him the address of his office garage. His cell sounded off again, this time with Sergei’s distinctive ring. He considered not answering it. That idea went nowhere good.

  “Good morning, Sergei,” Griffen answered, sounding cheerful.

  “What is this with the Times? Why is Adriatic’s name exposed…and what is the damage to our capital in the offshore fund?” No ‘how are you, how can we help, are you okay?’.

  “Sergei, I told you, we’re fine on the fund. We have a high-risk play in place on Allied, but the reward is huge. We do this all the time so it’s nothing to be alarmed about.” Technically, kind of true. Only there was much to be alarmed about.

  “It is unacceptable that Adriatic was exposed in the same sentence with the Ecuador Cartel. I have to–”

  “Sergei, listen. I have no control over that. You can thank that Archer prick for it, I suspect – although we’ll never know for sure. What I can do now is damage control.” Griffen wanted to cut this off before it went any further. A pause. Good. Sergei must be considering his words. Then:

  “What do you intend as your next move?”

  Griffen took a breath. “I’m going to step down from the domestic fund and go salvage the offshore entity. I have a lot at stake, Sergei; not just your money but most of my money, too. I have to unwind the Allied play and save our capital from the wolves.” Yes, that sounded convincing.

  Sergei was pacified, at least momentarily.

  “Look, Nicholas, I understand there is risk in what you do, and I didn’t think we invested in a CD, so I accept risk as part of your strategy. But I do need you to tell me the truth. Can the offshore fund recover?” Sergei asked the question carefully.

  Sure, if oil was discovered under Allied headquarters, or the president of the company became Secretary of the Treasury within the next forty-eight hours and could authorize billions in bailouts.

  “In my opinion it can, Sergei. It won’t be easy, and that’s why I’m heading for the islands to deal with the situation personally. I need to put all my energy into fixing this.” Which is why I’ll be gone for a while, he thought. “I’ll need to move the fund to a different jurisdiction and change the charter once this is over to avoid any unpleasantness from U.S.-based investigations. But one thing at a time.” Griffen paused for emphasis. “It’s my money at stake, too, Sergei.”

  “I hear what you are saying. For all our sakes, I hope you are successful. Stay in touch and let me know what is happening.” Sergei sounded partially convinced. Griffen had bought himself some maneuvering room.

  Sergei was not a stupid nor provincial man, for all of his pretended bear-like clumsiness with language and good-natured bombast. He had a feeling he was being lied to, but he couldn’t be sure. Griffen was in trouble because his investors’ identities had been made public, but that was a different issue than whether or not the offshore fund was in serious financial jeopardy. Griffen had always rebounded before and they’d made lots of money together – so he’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

  For the time being.

  ~ ~ ~

  Griffen pressed speed dial on his cell. A number in Canada answered.

  “Pendragon Investments.”

  “Let me speak to a broker,” Griffen said.

  “This is Doug. What’s your account number?

  “792294.”

  “And the name on the account?”

  “Griffen”

  “Password?”

  Griffen gave it to him.

  “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”

  “I want to buy three million dollars of September put options on Allied Pharmaceutical. APDT. I like the fifteens, twelves and tens,” Griffen instructed.

  “That’s going to take some time, sir. Right now the stock is volatile. It’s trading at twenty-four dollars in the first half hour of trading, down almost twenty percent.”

  “Do it. I don’t care if I have to pay a premium. Get it done, or sell calls to achieve the same net result. Call me back on the cell number you have on record,” Griffen said.

  He hung up. Traffic wasn’t heavy for a Monday. He stopped at another Chase branch and pulled out forty grand in cash, explaining he was buying an antique clock and the seller deman
ded cash. The teller didn’t really seem to care much, just filled out the federally-mandated forms.

  He looked at his navigation system, and calculated the time it would take to get to the Canadian border; worst case, a few hours. No real hurry. With the speed the government worked, it would take days to issue an indictment. He had all the time he needed to disappear.

  His phone rang; it was the broker from Barbados who handled Heliotrope.

  “Nicholas, we have a serious problem. I’m afraid we are under-collateralized for the Heliotrope account, and given the Allied movement today, we’re going to have to start selling unless we get a wire transfer of, well, it looks like somewhere in the neighborhood of $28 million.” It was the senior partner.

  “I think you might want to reconsider that. By the end of the week we’ll be seeing it back in the low $30 range. This is a blip.” Griffen was bluffing, but it was all he had to keep the price from plummeting out of control until he could get his puts purchased. “If you want to protect the position and raise some cash, sell some puts – Septembers should be good. It’ll be like free money once this recovers.” The offshore fund was dead meat; why not have them subsidize his personal put buying?

  “We go back a long time, Nicholas. Are you sure about this?”

  “You know I’ve got a lot of my personal money in the fund. I’m telling you selling puts in the teens is as good as gold, better even, and this will not be a problem by next week.” Griffen played a mean hand of poker.

  “Okay. We’ll sell $5 million worth of put contracts to help defray some of the expense until this stabilizes. I hope for all our sakes you know what you’re doing.”

  “As you pointed out, I’ve been doing it a long time.” He hung up. It was too bad the brokers and the banks would get hurt, but they’d be fine. They were big boys.