Corporate secrets

COLE     “We are here, sir," Tim says, making me glance up. And just in time too. I've been staring at these files for the past three hours. My brain feels like sludge. As I glance around, I'm disoriented. Why have we stopped in front of this building? Then I remember this is Chicago and shake my head slightly. "Thanks, Tim." Stacking up the paperwork, I slip them into a file and put that in my briefcase. Then I grab my jacket and put it on. The sharp twinge in my side and neck reminds me of how I haven't slept well enough in weeks. My insomnia is making a comeback, and I'll probably need to get on medication once more. It's not a cheerful thought. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tim. You give my regards to Teresa. And give Katie a kiss from me. Tell her I'm proud of her, and to break a leg." "Will do," my driver says as I step out of the car. His daughter has a ballet recital this evening, so he needs to go back to New York. I wish I could go back to New York. But I have a job to do. I pause on the sidewalk and take off my glasses, then look up. I have only been here once, about eight years ago. We had just signed the dotted line for the acquisition of the company. It used to be Manning Inc., Then we bought it, and it became part of the Charlton Group. Then, it had been a small investment firm. It occupied the ninth floor of the building. Now, we owned all twenty-six floors. We poured money into it and managed it from afar. And never realized what was going on until it was too late. I glance at my watch as I head into the building. It's only a quarter past seven. In our New York office, by now the building would already be bustling. Here though, it's still mostly silent. The lobby is nondescript. The floors wear dark carpets, and the walls are cream. All of the furniture I see is wood. A few tired-looking people are making their way toward the doors. One or two fresh faces are getting on the elevators. My eyes catch on the worn carpet in the lobby, and the peeling paint on the walls. Those signs of disrepair make me take an even closer look at the lobby. For a building that runs round the clock, there should be security guards stationed here day and night. There should be a receptionist sitting behind that worn desk. The place isn't looking very clean. Two of the elevators have 'Out of Order' signs on them. I head over to one of the good elevators and wince at the cranking sound that starts as it moves. Apparently, a lot more is wrong than I had imagined. Instead of going straight up to the twenty-fourth, I take the elevator to the twentieth floor. I want to see the other parts of the building, not just the ones that we use. A law firm occupies that floor. The place is well maintained, but I'm sure it's not a result of our efforts. The floor above has another law firm, a smaller one. It also houses a temp agency. It looks to be in as much disrepair as the lobby. The stairwell has a musty smell like it was flooded recently. The Charlton Group logo is boldly emblazoned on the glass doors that lead into our offices. The employees here work nine to five, so it's empty, just as I expected. Getting into the office should require a key card. There should be a guard stationed here as well. Instead, I walk easily through doors that aren't even locked. The place is a security hazard. There should be so many things here that are not. It's difficult to walk through the space, noting how disorganized and haphazard things are. The more I look around, the angrier I get. By the time I get to the top floor, I'm sure I've seen the worst of it. Then I open the door to the office Saul Manning used to occupy. For a second, I feel confused. I almost step back outside to see if I'm in the right place. I should be in the right place. And yet, it feels wrong. The rest of the building is in a bad state, but this room takes opulence to another level. Stepping on the blue rug that lines the floor of the entire room feels like a crime. It doesn't take knowledge of interior decoration to know the quality of something like this - and its cost. The walls are painted a light purple shade. There is a mammoth oak desk and chair set that backs the windows. And such impressive floor-to-ceiling windows they are. Soundproof too, because I can't hear the noise of traffic or anything, though when I look outside them, I see the signs of a city waking up. I think I've seen it all, and then realize that's not the worst of it. There is a bed. The room literally has an alcove sectioned off, and in there is a queen-size bed laid with silk sheets, a refrigerator, and a couch. The TV is decadent. The soft glow when I turn on the lights is fitter for a bedroom than an office. I open the drawer in the bedside table and wince at the packets of condoms, some opened and some not. As I walk towards the desk, the door opens. "Oh, Mr. Reagan! We didn't realize you would get here this early." I smile as Leah bursts in, piles of paper filling her arms. "Richard! Cole's here! How was the flight? How's the office? Honestly, I've missed New York so much." She lays everything in her arms on the table, even as Richard walks in cradling his own pile of paperwork. The both of them couldn't be any different. Leah was twenty-three when she came to work for me six years ago. Richard had already been my assistant for a year by then. Her hair was red, flaming red. She had dark green eyes too, a testament to her Irish heritage. She also had the attitude to match. Bold, brash, and with a liking for high heels and loud, heavy metal music. Richard on the other hand was conservative to the core. His black hair used to be in a military cut, his brown eyes sober. He loved suits of all shades, as long as the shade was black. He was a huge fan of classical music as well. And then, three years ago, both of them came back from vacation sporting matching wedding bands. Go figure. Till now, I wonder how they make it work. Of course, the changes are there. Richard wears his hair longer now. He confessed to me once that it was because he got jealous of one of Leah's music idols. He also wears lighter-colored suits once in a while. And Leah now goes to the orchestra. Richard lays his own neater-looking pile beside hers. "Hi, Mr. Reagan." "Rick, Leah." I smile at them both as they stand side by side. "My flight went well." "And Tim? Is he still here?" "Kate has a recital, Leah," Richard says indulgently. He goes to the far end of the room and grabs two chairs, which he brings over to the table. "Oh, yeah. Did you remember to order the flowers?" "Of course, I did." Because watching them is fascinating, I keep my gaze on Richard as he sets Leah's chair just so. He waits for her to sit before he follows suit. "Well?" I say. Leah shakes her head and sighs. "Things are a lot worse than we imagined, Cole. We didn't want to give you all of the bad news while you were in Singapore. We figured it was better we waited until you got here." "He's ruined the place," Richard adds, his tone dark. "We might need to involve the authorities at this point. He was basically running a Ponzi scheme here. Falsified records, fake audit reports, the entire thing is a freaking mess." "Everything here is what we've managed to uncover going back two or three years. We aren't sure exactly when it started or why," Leah continues. "It's like he just went crazy. And all of this is pertaining to the account books. Matt and Willow say that there's a lot relating to human resources and employee treatments as well, but they are still gathering information." The more I hear, the more I want to bang my head against the wall. I keep wondering how we could have missed it for so long. I had looked over some of the reports myself. Our accounting and audit departments had gone over the books. And yet there had been no hint of anything. "Are there harassment complaints?" "Willow says that there weren't complaints, per se. Apparently, whenever he accosted one of the young women and they threatened him, he would pay them off to be quiet about it. Human resources would receive an order to raise the salary of particular employees." Richard scrubs his hands over his eyes as Leah speaks. "The thing is, there's probably still a lot more that we don't know about. Matt says that people are being a lot more careful with what they say. Not that you can blame them. I'm sure they don't want to lose their jobs." "What about the management of the building?" I ask. Leah slaps a hand to her face. "I knew you'd notice. From what I've found, Manning terminated the contract of the guys who used to handle maintenance for this space. There were some complaints, of course. But considering the fact that this area is prime real estate, most of the people leasing space here didn't want to leave. So they started taking care of their own offices themselves." There is an ache in the base of my skull, the beginning of a massive headache. "Well, we'll need to get things working again. And we need to find Saul Manning. He cannot get away with what he's done." My hands clench into fists at the thought of him going Scot-free. We can't let that happen, not after what he's cost the company. "No, he shouldn't get away with it. I've been thinking..." "What?" I ask when Leah hesitates. "Well, you said we should let go of everyone who worked directly with Saul Manning pending when we complete the investigation." "But?" "I think we should rehire one of them. Richard doesn't agree, but I think it could help." "I feel like doing that would hurt more than help. Whoever we hire would immediately see through things. I mean, everyone already knows what's going on. They'll know we are bringing them back on because we need information." "I still think it's the best idea we have. Plus, I might have figured out a way for us to do it without raising any brows." "And what's that?" I interject before Richard can speak. The idea does sound good if we can implement it without suspicion. "The personal assistant we fired when we got here isn't actually Manning's assistant. She was a temp. His actual assistant had to take a break. I can't be sure, but I think it was for a medical reason." "Like she was pregnant with Manning's baby and she took a break to have the child?" "Dark, Richard," Leah says mildly. But her eyes are already flashing. Wise man that Ricard is, he immediately retreats, holding up two hands. "Okay, okay, fine." Leah sniffs then angles her body away from him. I barely hold back my laughter at the expression on his face. Someone's going to be in the dog house. "She should have resumed back to work next Monday if this mess hadn't been discovered. While an email had been automatically sent to her by HR, I can tell them to ask her back in. Perhaps, I'll let it slip that we do not consider her a part of whatever went on. That way we reduce suspicion." "You should consider that we might be inviting in someone who was part and parcel of what went on in this place. I mean, she was Manning's assistant. She had to have known what was going on. Bringing her here would be like knowingly letting in a double agent." "And it could lead us back to Manning." "Sir?" Richard says, but I can see that his eyes are already calculating. "It's highly probable that she knew what was going on with her boss. Bringing her in is a potential danger to us. I understand that perfectly. But those are things we can use to our advantage. We can keep our eyes on her without her knowledge. And if she really was in cahoots with Manning, then finding out she is working here again could draw him out." "And if they are in contact, she'll lead us to him," Richard finishes, nodding. "That actually does make sense." "Oh, so it makes sense when it's Cole saying it?" Leah says, standing. Uh oh. Usually, I keep out of their issues. But I still have a few things to deal with. Well, one thing in particular. "Before you leave, please tell me something is being done to sort out this... Office," I finally say, for want of a better word. Leah laughs. "Actually, yes. Celine's people are coming over to work here during the weekend." "You've spoken to her?" Guilt eats at me because I haven't. Leah must have noticed because she gives me a sympathetic look. "Yes, I have. We had a video call. I showed her the office, and she said she would send her guys. She also said you should be prepared to pay double what she'd usually ask for." I smile because it sounds like something she would say. "Thanks, Leah, Richard. Where have you set up?" "One of the offices below this floor. We are on speed dial one and two," Richard replies, opening the door for his wife, and then walking out behind her. I hear the beginnings of an argument and shake my head. The smile I have been holding back spreads across my face now. Dog house, definitely. The humor isn't there long, though. Not when I consider the files on my table, the work I have to deal with. It's a grim task before me, but it's my job, isn't it? I clean up messes. We have just discovered this mess, and now I must take care of it.