The Inner Sanctum

by Stephen W. Frey

  * * *

  —

  “Jesse, I’m sorry I took so long.” Todd moved to where Jesse sat at the bar. It was after eleven o’clock. Almost six hours had elapsed since she had called him.

  “Are you okay?” She stood up and hugged him tightly. It felt so good to be wrapped in his strong arms. He was someone she could absolutely count on, she had concluded over the last few hours as she sat at the bar waiting. David’s situation was much more complicated. He had other loyalties. There was no question of Todd’s. “The bartender gave me your message about being late.”

  “Can I get you something?” Todd’s arrival was obviously a disappointment to the bartender.

  Todd saw the bartender’s disappointment. Men were drawn to Jesse so fast. It had always been like that, and suddenly Todd felt the jealousy rising again, the same emotion he had felt watching her kiss David this morning in front of the hotel. He glanced cautiously around the restaurant, wondering once more—as he had since she had called this afternoon—why she had called him and not David. The jealousy burned hotter as the vision of their kiss became more vivid. “Coors Light, please.”

  The bartender put a glass under the tap and began to draw the beer.

  Jesse sat back down, took Todd by the hand, and pulled him onto the seat next to her. “Thanks so much for coming.”

  “It’s not a problem at all.” He checked the restaurant once more, then shook his head. “Listen, I really want to apologize for the way I acted in the parking lot. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was inexcusable.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said reassuringly. “The whole thing’s forgotten.”

  The bartender placed Todd’s beer down, then moved away.

  “I was just a little overcome. We hadn’t spent so much time together in a while, and I guess I’d forgotten how great it was to be with you.”

  “I told you, it’s okay.”

  Todd smiled and took a sip of beer. “Thanks.” He gazed at her lips. Mitchell had kissed her there this morning. “So what’s wrong? You sounded really upset on the phone.”

  First Neil, now Sara, Jesse thought to herself. And it was supposed to be me. “Sara’s dead.” A lump came to her throat as she thought of Sara.

  “Your friend Sara from the office?”

  “Yes. Her car ran off the road and burned.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think it was an accident, Todd.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think she was murdered by the people Neil Robinson suspected of manipulating the Elbridge Coleman campaign. By the people who murdered Neil. They must have believed Sara was the one who took the file from Neil’s house on the Severn.” Jesse squeezed his hand. “I’m really scared.”

  Only forty-five minutes ago, Todd and the stranger had pushed the black Cadillac, with the bodies of Harry and his sidekick locked in the trunk, down a steep embankment into the deep waters of a lonely cove of the Loch Raven Reservoir. For a few agonizing minutes the sedan had floated, tilted forward by the weight of the engine. Then it had finally slipped below the surface with its human cargo. He only prayed to God the stranger hadn’t been able to follow him here.

  * * *

  —

  “We’ll be out of here in no time,” Jesse called over her shoulder to Todd as they climbed the darkened steps to her apartment. “I need to get the cat. I can’t leave him here like this with no food or water.”

  Todd did not respond. He was concerned that the man who had killed the mobsters might be here.

  Jesse inserted the apartment key into the lock, pushed the door open and flipped the light on. “Oh, my God.” First she saw the destruction, and then the cat, dead in the corner. She turned around and buried her face in Todd’s shirt. “Get me out of here, Todd! Get me out of here!”

  Chapter 30

  As the stretch limousine cruised down Interstate 95 toward Washington, D.C., David gazed through the tinted glass into the darkness. He hadn’t slept in a day and a half and should have been exhausted. But four cups of coffee and nervous energy were keeping him wide awake. Their destination hadn’t been made clear, and suddenly he realized he shouldn’t have so willingly honored Mohler’s request to enter the limousine waiting outside Sagamore’s Towson offices. However, there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

  Jesse hadn’t been in her room at the Sheraton Hotel all day. He had called once an hour but never reached her. Perhaps despite all his efforts to conceal her they had found her anyway and she had met with the same fate as Neil Robinson. Perhaps he was headed toward that same end at this very moment.

  Mohler sat on the other side of the limousine. “Where are we headed, Art?” David asked him.

  “I told you,” Mohler said quietly, “I’ve got a meeting with the CEO of a small computer software company. They’ve got what I understand is a revolutionary product but don’t have the money to develop it. This could turn out to be a nice investment opportunity for Sagamore. You have experience in this area. I want you there. I’m a member of the executive committee. End of discussion.”

  “You scheduled a meeting with a CEO at eleven-thirty at night?” David asked suspiciously.

  “They need money fast. There are other investment firms knocking on the company’s door. What can I say? We work when we have to. You know that.”

  “Can you show me some financial information on the company so I can be prepared for the meeting?” David gestured toward Mohler’s briefcase lying on the seat.

  “I don’t have anything yet. It’s a private company and the CEO is stingy about divulging any information without a face-to-face meeting first. You know how these entrepreneurs are. They think everyone’s out to steal their idea.”

  Mohler was doing an excellent job of avoiding the questions. David suddenly had a very bad feeling about this little excursion, as Mohler had called it in Baltimore.

  Fifteen minutes later the limousine turned off Interstate 95 at the Laurel, Maryland, exit several miles northeast of the Capital Beltway.

  “I thought you said the meeting was in downtown D.C.”

  “Relax, David.” But Mohler’s voice was not at all reassuring.

  How stupid could he have been? There could easily have been a hidden camera in the hall of records last night taping his actions, David suddenly realized. If so, they would be well aware that he had made copies of the trading records.

  As the limousine rolled to a stop at the end of the exit ramp, David gently tugged at the door handle but it was locked. Subtly he pushed the lock button on the door’s console, but there was no sound. The dominant controls were up front with the driver and the ones in the back had been disengaged. There would be no leaving the vehicle until Mohler allowed him to.

  The driver turned onto a lonely road. David squinted through the window but saw nothing except the vague outline of trees and fields in the night as the limousine cruised through the farmland outside Washington. It was too damn dark out here. Too remote.

  David’s eyes flashed to the bar tucked into the side of the limousine. In a rack on top of the small wooden counter there were several large bottles that could be smashed and used as weapons. They wouldn’t be very effective against guns, but at least they were something. One always had to have a plan. Even if it wasn’t a very good one.

  But then David looked back out the window and his fears slowly subsided as the landscape became dotted with house lights. Then there was a strip mall and then a Marriott Hotel. By the time the limousine had turned in to the hotel and pulled up in front of the main entrance, his pulse had returned to normal.

  “Here we are.” Mohler grabbed his briefcase as the limousine’s locks popped up. “Let’s go, David.”

  They stepped out of the limousine and moved through the Marriott’s lobby to the elevator. It rose quickly to t
he fifteenth floor, where they exited, turned right, and walked down a long hallway. Finally Mohler stopped in front of a door and knocked hard three times, then pushed. The door swung slowly open, and he moved into the suite.

  David stood in the hallway. Would they risk trying anything here? Wouldn’t they have taken him someplace less public if they intended to cause him harm?

  Mohler leaned back out of the room. “Come on.”

  As David moved hesitantly into the foyer, the strong scent of cigar smoke came to his nostrils. He waited for Mohler to close the door, then followed him around the corner into the large living room. Seated there were Senator Webb and Jack Finnerty.

  “Good evening, David,” Finnerty said calmly. “Have a seat.” He smiled politely, gesturing toward a wing chair on the opposite side of the coffee table from where he and Webb reclined.

  David stood next to Mohler at the foyer’s edge and watched as Webb inhaled from the cigar. Two and a half years ago he had come before this man to bribe him. He had believed the millions he would siphon out of Doub Steel would influence Webb to award GEA the huge A-100 contract out of the black budget. And that Sagamore would make billions when GEA’s stock surged. Then he could keep his high-paying job and profit personally from the GEA options he had so cleverly negotiated for himself. He had believed that with guile, moxie, and guts he had brilliantly engineered a transaction that would be the answer to all his problems and make him wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. But those had been the beliefs and presumptions of a pathetic neophyte, David now knew. They were all in league together, and they had craftily led him down the garden path. They were the masters. He was just a babe in the woods.

  Mohler tapped David on the back and smiled warmly. “Have a seat, young man.” He placed his briefcase on a table and took a seat at one end of a long sofa.

  Still David stood in the foyer entrance, staring at the three men who had so easily manipulated his life for the last two and a half years. “You three must have enjoyed some long laughs at my expense over the last few years,” he finally said.

  For the first time Webb removed the cigar from his mouth. He placed it in an ashtray on the coffee table. “We don’t find humor in any of this,” he replied curtly. “In fact, there is nothing we take more seriously. Now sit down.”

  David finally obeyed. “So what is this little gathering all about?”

  “Information and explanations,” Webb answered. “The time has come to let you in on a few things.”

  “Such as?”

  “The GEA transaction was a setup. We had you execute the dirty work in case anything went wrong. So there was no way to link us to any aspect of the transaction.”

  Finnerty crossed his arms, and Mohler removed his half-lens glasses. The discussion would clearly be a dialogue between Webb and David.

  “And so that I was trapped,” David uttered, almost to himself. “The money I believed was going to you as compensation for your influence on awarding the A-100 contract to GEA actually went to an account in my name. I know that now.”

  Webb smiled. “Yes, that’s true.”

  “So you could set me up on fraud charges in case I ever became a problem. In case I ever considered cutting a deal with the authorities. There would be no evidence of your wrongdoing, but clear evidence of me sending three million dollars from Doub Steel to myself and covering the transfer by creating phony documentation for the accountants. The authorities would nail me, but they wouldn’t see any connection between Sagamore and you, Senator Webb, because, in fact, there wasn’t any.” David shook his head. “And you handed me the cash to pay the money back by giving me the GEA options.” Now that David thought about it, Finnerty had actually been the one who first brought up the possibility of the options.

  “Very good, David. All things we planned to inform you of tonight, but I see that we don’t have to worry about that.”

  “You would never allow yourself to be so easily connected to bribery.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And that money I sent myself has all been swept away from those accounts so I could never reverse the transaction if I did find out about it. It’s probably all waiting for me in some Swiss account. But I’d never be able to find it.”

  “The authorities could be made aware of it quickly.”

  “I’m sure.” David had never been madder at himself. “God, I should have known what was really going on that night I came to see you.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Webb was enjoying himself. “You were eager to make a deal. Eager to save your job.”

  “I should have figured out that you would never just let me send you money that way. And I should have known that you were looking for a much bigger payday than the three million dollars we finally agreed to.” David glanced up at the senator. “Your payoff is a piece of the Sagamore action, isn’t it? A big piece. Probably the biggest.”

  “Of course.” Webb picked up the cigar again. “Why shouldn’t I have the biggest share? I approached Elizabeth Gilman fifteen years ago when her little investment fund wasn’t as successful as it is today. In fact, it was going down the drain. I saved her. I set up this whole infrastructure and risked losing everything. I ought to have the biggest piece.”

  David watched Finnerty and Mohler nod like puppets.

  “So, let’s say the GEA transaction nets Sagamore a three-billion-dollar profit. If Sagamore keeps two percent for itself, which I believe is the agreement the executive committee strikes with investors”—David paused for a moment and glanced at Mohler, who nodded in agreement—“that’s sixty million dollars. Senator Webb, let’s say you take twenty million of that.” David laughed cynically. “Twenty million sure beats the hell out of a senator’s salary.”

  “It certainly does,” Webb said quietly.

  “And there’s probably no way to track funds out of Sagamore. Taxes are probably paid on gains through some kind of sharing agreement, then money is distributed through some intricate network running through Europe, Southeast Asia, and South America. A network erected by experts. A network no one could ever figure out.”

  “You seem to have it all figured out.”

  “So why am I here tonight?” David asked. “Why the intrigue of the limousine ride just to tell me that I sent myself the money out of Doub Steel? Something I already knew anyway.”

  “Several reasons, David.”

  They were being awfully friendly tonight. He hadn’t heard his last name once. “What reasons?”

  “Art.” Webb motioned to Mohler.

  “Yes.” Mohler cleared his throat. “David, Sagamore Investment Management Group has recorded tremendous investment results for years. We’ve done so, as you’ve probably surmised, through our relationship with Carter Webb. We use his access to information to our advantage, and as you accurately stated, he shares in our success. Just as with you tonight, we have explained all of this to each of the small number of managers who have made it to their fifth anniversary with Sagamore. We were just as open in explaining all of this to them as we’ve been with you, because just as with you, we had them in a very tight corner.”

  Mohler paused so they could gauge David’s reaction, then continued. “Your test was GEA, admittedly the largest project we have ever embarked on at Sagamore. But the portfolio managers who were invited before you into what is a rather exclusive society had their own baggage—the same kind of fraud or embezzlement trail you have, which could land them in jail, just as it could you,” Mohler said sternly, pausing for just a second to allow the truth to sink in. “You see, it isn’t your performance in the first five years at Sagamore that concerns us. It isn’t the fact that you’ve been in the bottom half of the monthly rankings that we really care about. I know that’s what all you people who haven’t been initiated believe. What we really care about is whether you’re willing to take on the responsibility of tha
t inside trade, in your case GEA, and excuse it. Whether you’re willing to take a cue from Jack Finnerty to approach Senator Webb, then enter into the investment and lock yourself in to us by sending him the money out of a Sagamore subsidiary. Whether you’re willing to protect Sagamore’s executive committee, Senator Webb, Jack Finnerty, the other portfolio managers and the rest of our group.”

  “Because if I’m willing to do that, I’ve effectively committed myself to a life of crime,” David murmured.

  “To us,” Webb corrected. He turned to Finnerty. “David’s heard enough bad news, Jack. Tell him the good stuff.”

  Finnerty smiled. “David, we’ve never had a problem at Sagamore after making all this clear to a portfolio manager. In fifteen years no one has ever turned on us. There are two reasons for that. First, as Art said, we have the stick. We have you nailed on fraud. But we also recognize the need for an incentive.” Finnerty’s smile broadened. “If you agree to secrecy, which I trust you will because there’s really no other logical option, you will receive a one-time cash payment of two million dollars.”

  David looked at Finnerty incredulously. “Two million?” His voice was almost inaudible.

  “That’s right. And you can count on at least that much in salary and bonus every year. Probably much more. Would you say that’s accurate, Art?” Finnerty leaned forward and glanced past Webb to Mohler.

  “Yes.”

  Two million dollars. A nervous smile David couldn’t control played across his face. He really was going to be rich.

  “You should feel honored, David,” Webb said. “GEA is the largest transaction we’ve ever executed. And we chose you to execute it for us. You scored very well on the psychological tests we asked you to take before we made you the offer. Higher than anyone else ever has at Sagamore. You’ll have a long and prosperous career at the firm, I guarantee you. We’ve got a lot planned for you. I can even envision you on the executive committee someday.”

  “You people play a mean game of poker.” David turned to Mohler. “I was convinced you really wanted me to sell GEA that day you were in my office screaming about how it was the worst investment Sagamore had ever made.”