by HN Wake
He held out his skinny arms. “Come here.”
She stepped into his hug and the tears dropped unrestrained. She pushed her lips into his shoulder, “What am I gonna do?”
He leaned into her hair, breathed in deeply. “You’re going to drive home safely, you’re going to buy booze on the way there. And I’m going to come over tonight and we’re going to get shit faced and talk about what a bright future you have. Because this place sucks and you’re better off without it.”
She squeezed him.
Joyce let Isaac into her tiny, Foggy Bottom apartment. She was unsettled by his presence in her inner sanctum--she barely knew him. But given the circumstances, she felt overwhelmed and had chosen to trust him. “Here, sit down. You want a wine?”
“For sure.” His blond head bobbled. “So tell me what happened again.”
She replayed the hallway conversation with Odom as she rifled through the kitchen drawers in search of a bottle opener. When she finished the story, she asked, “Did you find anything else out?”
“Actually, I did. The shelf company was purchased by a holding company in Indonesia.”
“Indonesia?”
“Yeah.”
“A holding company just holds stocks in other companies.” She brought over the opened bottle of white wine and two glasses. “It doesn’t actually produce anything. It reduces the risk for owners. They can own the companies that, say, manufacture stuff and if that goes under, the holding company is still solvent.” She shook her head hard. “It’s so suspicious. It’s got to be something sinister.”
She poured glasses, flipped on some music, and they sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, legs outstretched together. “What’s the name of the holding company?”
“Maluk Holdings. Registered in Jakarta, Indonesia.”
“Whoever is the owner, they’ve done a good job of covering their tracks.”
“I’m going to dig into Maluk Holdings tomorrow.”
She stood, stepped over to the small table by the window, and picked up a folded piece of paper. She handed it to him. “This is the bank statement showing the two million dollar deposit.”
“Can I keep this?”
“Uh, maybe not.” She changed her mind, took back the paper. “I don’t want you getting into trouble. Maybe we should call this all off, and I should just accept I got fired for a reason I’ll never know.”
“Do you want me to call it off?”
She thought about this. “No,” and handed him the paper. “No I don’t. Simply for the fact that I want to know what just got me fired. I mean, I’m in Intelligence. I was doing my fucking job. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Who was the dude?”
“Huh?” she asked as she sat back down next to him.
“The dude that hauled you out and fired you”
“He just…he just… some guy named Odom—“
“Frank Odom?”
She looked at him, “Do you know him?”
“Don’t ask.”
“What do you mean?”
“Okay. Let’s put this out there. There are a LOT of things I can’t talk about with you. Not now, not ever.”
“Right, right, I got it.” Her tone was full of despair. “I’m not Agency. You can’t talk to me. I get it.”
“I’m gonna keep searching. If I turn up nothing, then you and I will just have to be content that it’s something we’ll never know.”
“What if you turn up something?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you gonna tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yeah, I get that.” She hung her head.
He said, “I’m sorry. I really am.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders.
Her mood went from a forty-five percent to an eighty-six percent in record time.
His face was a few inches away. His eyes were blue. The light from the street light in the alley lit the fine fuzz on his cheeks. The downy covering made the outline of his face appear mystical. His lips, neither full nor narrow, seemed just right.
She leaned in. He met her half way.
It was a long kiss. He reached out and took her hand, rested with it clasped on her lap. Neither heard a car roar by nor saw the headlights light up the apartment.
It was a long kiss.
Finally, they pulled apart. He kept her hand clasped in his. They grinned at each other.
An hour later and a second bottle down, she revisited their conversation with a slightly slurred voice. “Are you scared? I mean what if they find you are searching into this? You could get fired too. Aren’t you nervous?”
“Nah, I’m IT.” He raised his hands over his head like a winning fighter in a ring. “We’re the bomb!”
She laughed and fell into him. He wrapped his arms around her. His face was warm, inviting. She asked, “You wanna stay the night?”
He raised his hands again.
40
Hong Kong
Mac rushed into the wine bar and found Meredith in the back, alone at a wooden table with a single glass of red wine and a candle burning in a glass vase. She dropped down into the opposite seat.
“Thanks for coming so quickly.” Meredith waved the waitress for a second glass of wine.
“What happened?” asked Mac.
“I resigned.”
“Oh my God. What? Tell me what happened.”
Meredith relayed the story.
Stuart had been typing on his computer when Meredith walked into his office. He had ignored her, so she spoke first. “I wanted to give you an update on that Malaysian timber deal.”
He didn’t look up. “Yeah, I know about it.”
This took her aback, but she continued. “Alghaba is just not a client we can bring on.”
“So Nazir told me about an hour ago.” He finally looked up. “Actually, the thing is, we had a meeting last night on the larger role of Risk.”
“What?” Her antennae shot up.
“We’re talking about putting together a sustainability committee. I think we need to have a much more focused group.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re going to spin sustainability issues off to a separate committee that reports up to New York. This new committee is not going to be part of your remit in Risk.”
“What? Stuart, sustainability issues are a real risk for this bank.”
“Yeah, that’s not how we see it. We think they are a separate consideration.”
“Who’s we?”
“Meredith, don’t push me. I’ve got too much going on.”
“So what’s going to happen to Alghaba?”
“Look, it’s a fifty million dollar fee for us. It’s a big deal. And it sets us up nicely for the timber sector in Asia going forward. We can’t let the Chinese move in on this. They’re too powerful, too big.”
“How—“
“The new Sustainability Committee is going to be headed up by a guy. We think it needs to be a male face for the dirtier clients.”
“What?” She stared at him, completely floored.
But he had looked back down at his keyboard. “That’s it, Meredith. Thanks.”
Over the candlelight, Mac gaped at Meredith. What Stuart had done was audacious and brazen. And it opened up the bank to an enormous discrimination lawsuit.
Meredith was looking resigned. “I’ve already called my lawyer. The bank will send me legal non disclosures that will gag order me. I won’t be allowed to repeat any of this. But I haven’t signed anything yet. So far, you’re the only one to know this.”
“Wow.” Mac leaned back against her seat. She was losing the one ally she trusted in the bank.
“Yeah. Wow.”
“They are going to pay you out a shitload.”
“My lawyer said the same thing. The amount doesn’t matter to them. It’s just money. Money smoothes out everything. But yes, I’ll get a large amount.”
“I can't believe he said that
. In this day and age? Doesn’t he know better? It's mind-bending that he would make Legion so vulnerable.”
“I literally didn't know how to respond.”
“Deep down, they just don't think we're as smart as they are, do they?” Mac asked.
Meredith’s face revealed her interior debate. “In all my years with this bank, I’m sad to say this, but no. No, I don’t think so. Most males in banking do not think women are their equals. They do not think we are as smart.”
“I don't want to be their kind of smart,” Mac said. “It's a soulless smart that thinks winning--no matter what the cost—is winning.”
They let the silence grow.
Mac’s heart picked up as the thought clicked in her mind. She was afraid to ask. “Alghaba?”
Meredith shook her head sadly. “They’re going through with it.”
The buoyancy she had felt since earlier in Meredith’s office—the win against Alghaba—dissipated in an instant. She felt deflated. Exhaustion swept through her.
Meredith was shaking her head. “Here’s the thing. Stuart does know better. I think in his heart, he’s sexist, but he does know better than to say something like he did. He’s a smart one, that Stuart.”
The realization hit Mac. “You think he did it on purpose?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“The more I think about it, the more I think I was set up.”
Had Stuart set up Meredith quitting simply to let a single deal go through? “Because of Alghaba?”
Meredith nodded knowingly. “I’d take that bet.”
They both stared at each other.
“What can I do?” Mac asked.
“Not much. Without me, there isn’t anyone in the bank who will fight this deal. It will go through.”
Mac remembered Mudzaffar kicking a limp Azly. She thought of the Penan. The roadblock. The devastation of the gash. Her jaw tensed and her shoulders cramped. The anger swept the exhaustion from her. Her voice was steely. “I can’t just let them fund Alghaba’s expansion. I have to do something.”
Meredith nodded. “I agree. I can’t, but you should. Listen Mac, you need to come out swinging. If you’re going to do anything, swing for the fences. It’s the only way to beat them.”
Mac’s bag vibrated. She pulled it out the bank Blackberry, checked the number, and answered, “Mac Ambrose?”
“Mac, it’s Tiffany, Stuart Fairbanks’ office.”
Mac glanced up in alarm at Meredith, the Blackberry pressed hard to her ear. “Yes?” She mouthed to Meredith, “Stuart’s office.”
Tiffany said, “Stuart has asked that you come by his place. Are you available now?”
“Now?” Mac eyeballed Meredith. What could Stuart Fairbanks want after all that had transpired?
“Yes. I can give you directions. It’s up on the Peak. Easy to get a taxi there.”
“Uh, sure.”
41
Hong Kong
The rain started as the taxi crawled up Peak Road. Small drops peppered the windows and the wipers squeaked across a light covering. At this time of night, only a few cars were on the road in this darkened, residential neighborhood. The shadow of the Peak loomed in the distance.
The driver slowed to confirm an address. The building at the end of the long drive soared into the stormy sky. He pulled under a well-lit covered entrance.
What a distance you have come, thought Mac. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, she had been in the sweltering rainforest surrounded by crushing poverty.
She took a deep breath as a doorman pulled open the lobby door and pointed her to the elevator bank. “Mr. Fairbanks is on the top floor.”
She wondered if Stuart’s secretary had called the doorman.
In the elevator ride, she fingered her neck, checking her pulse. It was slightly fast. She brushed aside the hint of anxiety.
On the top floor, the doors slid open to a palatial lobby tiled in alternating black and white squares. A large red door was being opened by Stuart Fairbanks with a big, charming smile. “Come on in, Mac.”
With a small smile and slight hesitation, she stepped across the threshold.
It was if they were floating on a quiet cloud two miles above Hong Kong’s glittering skyline. Through the drizzle, the view across the city and the harbor was spectacular. Translucent, glowing mist from refracted light shrouded the skyscrapers. Boats on the water bobbed in the wind, their running lights dancing like pixies on an inky surface.
The ceilings must have been thirty feet high. Each wall was hung with spotlighted paintings in fantastic colors. Industrial sculptures took up three corners of the room. Fawn leather couches were situated in two separate talking spaces. Antique oriental carpets in subdued browns overlapped across a gleaming hard wood floor.
The space felt designed, perfect. But it also felt lifeless, as if it were the business space—the outward facade--of this immense apartment.
He led her down into the seating. “Can I get you a drink, Mac?”
She nodded mutely.
“Scotch?”
“Sure, thanks,” she found her voice. “On the rocks and water if you don’t mind.”
He grinned at her, “It’s a pleasure.”
He fixed the drink and directed her to one of the four couches arranged in a circle. The smell of fine leather wafted up as she sat. The view across the room was of all of Hong Kong.
He handed her a heavy crystal glass. He had taken off his suit jacket revealing gold cuff links, an expensive watch, and the pleasant, lingering, damp scent of a man at the end of the day. He took a position opposite her and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.”
“Not a pleasant night out, I’m afraid. I hear we may be in for a storm.”
“I hadn’t heard that.”
“I just saw it on the news. It’s coming up from the Philippines. A typhoon.”
She nodded, took a sip, and the liquid bit the back of her neck. She sloshed the ice cubes.
“You haven’t been up here before?” he asked.
“No. It’s beautiful.”
“It suits its purpose.”
To impress and intimidate, she thought. It certainly does.
“Meredith has resigned,” he said. “This presents two holes I need to fill as quickly as possible. First there is the event tomorrow. The gala awards. It’s at the Four Seasons.”
Mac thought, of course it’s at the Four Seasons. This whole bloody mess seems to begin and end there.
He said, “I need you to represent the Sustainability Team.”
She hesitated. It was an unpleasant request but she couldn’t see a way to get out of it. “Alright.”
“We’ll sit you with some of the environmental nonprofits we’ve invited. Make sure they feel comfortable with us, that they know we support their efforts. We want them to know we’re a green bank. That we’re environmentally friendly”
The hypocrisy stung. She smiled gently, presenting an innocuous front.
He said, “We need to talk about Alghaba.”
She wrapped both hands around the whiskey glass and settled it on her lap, exuding an air of confidence. Internally, her nerves began to hum.
“We’re moving forward with the deal. Are you going to be on board with that?” he asked.
Her shoulders crimped tighter. What could she do? She was alone in the bank. She pushed back. “My findings led to Meredith’s recommendations against the deal. They were based on my due diligence in the field.”
“Yes, I’m aware that you don’t approve of this deal—“
She wanted to slug back the drink for confidence, but instead she cleared her throat and tried a different tact. “Alghaba are clearly—very clearly—far outside their legally permitted concessions. They are moving further every day into virgin rainforest.”
“It’s Malaysia. The government needs to crack down on enforcement. That’s not our job.”
“The
re are court proceedings on land claims, rumors of rapes—“
“Again, local jurisdictional issues. These are issues we don’t need to examine.”
She couldn’t give up. “But our policies require us to examine them.”
“Our policies require us to make recommendations to the client to fix their business practices. We’ll do that. We’ll work with Alghaba.”
“We could get labeled as the bank that killed the orangutan.”
His chuckle was charming. It unnerved her further. “Yeah, Nazir mentioned you have thing for the orangutan.”
“They are rapidly becoming extinct. This deal will hasten that.”
“We’re a bank, Mac. We’re not Greenpeace.”
She launched her last argument. “A medical student that visited an Alghaba site was murdered two weeks ago.”
She watched for a tell, a micro expression. Did his eyes widen? Did his eyebrows raise?
He said calmly, “Coincidental. There is no evidence Alghaba was involved…”
He was too quick on the response, too calm. He knew too much. Stuart Fairbanks knew. Fucking Stuart Fairbanks knew about the murder of Dominick French.
Her heartbeat raced as the shock took over, but she found her voice. “The student’s murderer was also killed. There was a clean up.”
Stuart Fairbanks’ eyes didn’t flinch. His face hadn’t moved. Fucking Stuart Fairbanks knew about the cover up.
He responded smoothly, “That’s interesting. I hadn’t known that.”
Her heartbeat spiked wildly. How involved was this man?
She entwined ten fingers around her drink, hoping the cold glass would stem her rising internal temperature. “Yes, in Miri. A shot to the back of the head.”
“Huh,” he said with no expression. “I guess karma is a bitch?”
