Due Diligence: A Thriller (41 page)

Amanda broke in. “Mike,” she said, “I need to tell you something.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“I had a phone call from our friend.”

It took a second for Wilson to respond. His tone changed. “What did she want? More money, huh?”

“No.”

“Has she got something else?”

“No, Mike. But she got a phone call from her source.”

“Her source?”

“Yes, Mike.” Amanda paused. She was alert for every sound, every nuance.

There was no reply from Wilson.

“You know the one?” said Amanda.

“The analyst? Is that who you’re talking about?”

Was his tone more guarded now? More careful? Was he hiding something?

“He was very angry that she hadn’t published the story.” Amanda waited again.

“What did she say to him?”

“She said what I told her to say. She needs more proof. Her editor won’t pass the story without another source. You’ll sue them if they put a foot wrong.”

“Did he buy it?”

Amanda tried to read the tone of Wilson’s voice. It was cautious. But there could be all kinds of reasons for that. Bribing a journalist was enough to put you on your guard without having done anything else. She would have to come right out and say it.

“She told me something else, Mike.”

“What was that, Mandy?”

“There’d been a murder.”

“A murder?”

The words came out cold, flat. Unsurprised? Or just unemotional?

“His best friend, Mike.”

“Whose best friend? The analyst?”

“That’s right. Found dead in his apartment.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“In the
analyst’s
apartment.”

“Oh…”

Amanda Bellinger listened. The silence went on for a long time. Too long? She waited. She wasn’t going to say anything. She wanted to hear what Wilson was going to say.

“What was he doing there, in the other guy’s apartment?”

“I don’t know,” said Mandy.

“Wrong place at the wrong time, huh?”

“What did you say?”

“What? Oh…” Wilson laughed. “I mean, that’s what you’re saying, right? It was supposed to be the analyst.… He was … that’s what you said, isn’t it, Mandy?”

“I didn’t say anything, Mike.”

“Well, I just thought … hell, Mandy! You know what I thought!”

Amanda Bellinger was trying very quickly to work that out. She frowned. Could it be an honest conclusion he’d reached from what she’d said? Had she led him? Or had he said it too quickly, with too much knowledge? She wished she could remember exactly what she had said and how she had said it. She wished she could rewind. She wished she could start over and do it again.

“Mandy,” said Wilson, “if you’ve got a problem, come right out with it. Don’t beat around the bush.”

Amanda took a deep breath. “All right, Mike. This isn’t easy to say. Did you…?” She stopped. It was absurd. Was it even possible that she was going to ask him the question she had in her mind?

“Mandy, talk to me. You know I’ll be straight with you. You’ve known me long enough to know that.”

“Okay. Mike, you didn’t … you didn’t somehow organize for him to be killed?”

There was silence. Amanda winced.

“You mean, like put out a hit on him?”

“Yes,” she said. “I guess that’s what I mean.”

“Mandy.” Wilson began to laugh. “Mandy … are you … you
are
serious, aren’t you? All right, no, I did not put out a hit on him. I swear to you … Jesus Christ, Mandy!” Wilson’s laughter began again. “I don’t even know how you’d do something like that.”

“Mike, I gave you his name … I gave you his details … who else knew who he was?”

“But you said it wasn’t our source who was killed, right?”

“No, but the man who was killed was in the source’s apartment. His best friend.”

“Look … it’s okay. Mandy, I guess it’s scary, huh? Maybe it was some kind of burglary or something. Poor guy. What was he doing there? Coincidence. Wrong place, wrong time. Isn’t that what I said?”

Amanda nodded.

“Huh, Mandy?”

Already, Amanda could barely believe she had asked Mike Wilson that question. It was crazy, thinking he could have done something like that. “I’m sorry, Mike.”

“It’s okay, Mandy.” Mike Wilson laughed. “Hell, I’ve been accused of most things in my time, but this is a first.”

Amanda cringed. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Mike.” Now she really couldn’t believe it. What had come over her?

Wilson laughed.

“Oh, Jesus, Mike.”

“Okay. Look, Mandy, let’s not worry about that now. Let’s think about what we’ve gotta do here. The journalist. Let’s make sure we’re still okay on that front. What did she say she was going to do?”

Amanda nodded, grateful for something concrete to focus on. Sandy Pereira. That was who she needed to think about.

“Mandy? You think she’s going to do something?”

“I don’t think so,” said Amanda. “Nothing’s changed. Why should she do anything?”

“You sure about that?”

“Well…” Amanda thought about it. “She’s scared. And she’s not very smart.”

“Is she chasing this murder thing, like a story?”

“I doubt it.”

“And the analyst, when he called her, he didn’t tell her anything else? He didn’t make up any more lies about us?”

“No. She said he didn’t have anything for her.”

“Well, that’s one good thing, at least,” said Wilson. “My theory is he’s being paid by another bidder to blow the deal.”

“Why would they need to use him to do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why can’t you talk to his boss at the bank?”

“Jesus, Mandy! I’m under enough pressure here. I got some guy running around out there trying to blow up my deal and now you’re giving me the third degree again.”

“Sorry, Mike.”

“That’s okay.… All right, listen, here’s what I think you should do. Call up the journalist and say you’ve been thinking about it and it’s probably a coincidence.”

Amanda nodded. “I think she could do with some reassurance. I think that’s definitely what she needs.”

“Good. Well, reassure her. Tell you what. Say you’ve talked to someone you know in the police department and they think it’s a burglary that went wrong.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Amanda. “It might make her think she should investigate it herself.”

“All right, you’re the expert.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Offer her some more money.”

“No,” said Amanda quickly. “That’d be a mistake, Mike. She’d think we’re hiding something.”

“Why? We’re just grateful for what she’s done.”

“What has she done? Trust me. In this business, you give something because you get something. We haven’t gotten anything new from her, so why would we give her more? She’ll think it’s hush money. She’ll think she’s hiding something new for us. She’ll start asking herself what it is.”

“Nothing,” said Wilson. “She’s not hiding anything new.”

“Exactly. So we don’t give her any more.” Amanda was feeling more like herself again, back in control, the PR queen who had seen everything. “You’ve got to trust me on this, Mike. I know how these people work. Besides, what’s she going to do? Who’s she going to talk to? She doesn’t look too good herself if this comes out.”

“That’s a good point.”

“Exactly. After what she’s done, basically, she says anything, she loses her job. Any job. She’d never get a job again. I might just give her a gentle reminder.”

“How much did we give her again?” asked Wilson.

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

“Jesus Christ.” Wilson laughed. “Twenty thousand. The great American press, huh? Wonder of the free world.”

Amanda Bellinger smiled. It had been remarkably easy to suborn Sandy Pereira. She had come cheap, too. Amanda was prepared to spend a hundred thousand of Mike Wilson’s money, but it was clear that Sandy Pereira’s price was a lot lower than that. She was unhappy, disillusioned, and it had been simple for Amanda to play to her resentments. Amanda had taken her to lunch a few days after the original
Herald
article appeared and they hadn’t even finished their cocktails before Sandy admitted she had provided the information for the piece and told her how she had happened to come by it. They weren’t finished with their entrées before Amanda had bought her loyalty. It didn’t take much to persuade her that this wasn’t going to be the scoop she hoped it might be, that it wasn’t going to be her big break out of the
Herald,
that Marv Koller was going to take the credit for anything that did come out and, at best, she’d be seen as some junior little assistant who’d done a bit of the groundwork along the way. Not to mention hinting that if she cooperated, there might be a place for her in the wonderful, shiny world of PR at Hill Bellinger. Now, wouldn’t it make a lot more sense to let Amanda Bellinger know if she came by any more information, and earn a little something for herself, rather than handing the information to a lech like Marv Koller and get absolutely nothing in return? Apart from a pat on the ass. Literally.

“You want to talk about the announcement now?” said Wilson.

Amanda glanced at her watch, thinking of Lincoln Center. “Actually, Mike, I’m already late for something.”

“What? Another client? I’m jealous, Mandy.”

“Save it, Mike.”

“Call me tomorrow. We need to talk about the announcement.”

“Sure,” said Amanda.

“Have a good night, Mandy.”

“You, too, Mike.”

Amanda got up and went into the private bathroom off her office. She shuddered as she changed into her dress for the evening.
What
had come over her? A moment of madness that could easily have killed a very important client relationship. And another kind of relationship, potentially. Luckily, Mike Wilson had seen the lighter side of it.

She thought about him as she got changed.

He wouldn’t have forgiven just anyone for accusing him like that, would he? He was too proud, too strong. There was definitely something between them. With anyone else, he would have blown up.

She freshened her makeup. She put new lipstick on. She pouted, pressed her lips, and scrutinized her mouth in the mirror.

It couldn’t be her imagination. It was real. She let her thoughts linger. There was a chemistry between them. That conversation proved it.

*   *   *

Sin changes a man. Each rung down the ladder makes it easier to descend the next. Three days earlier, the thought of procuring a man’s death had nauseated him. Now that a man had actually been murdered, Mike Wilson felt nothing but rage.

When he got Tony Prinzi on the phone, he exploded, just as he would at one of his executives.

“You fucked up, Tony!” he yelled. “Your guys fucked up!”

“Excuse me, Mike…”

“You told me it’d be easy. You fucking tell me it’s gonna be a simple fucking thing to do and—”

“Excuse me,” interjected Tony. “I think you forget who you’re talking to.”

Prinzi’s tone had hardly changed, and yet somehow there was a powerful, naked menace in his voice. Even in the midst of his anger, Wilson heard it.

“That’s better,” said Prinzi. “Let’s talk like gentlemen. If we have a problem, let’s resolve it in a civilized manner.”

Wilson took a deep breath. “You told me you were going to get this guy.”

“I’m informed the job was done very successfully, and you should be very satisfied.”

“Yeah? Well, whoever informed you informed you wrong. You got the wrong guy.”

For a moment, there was nothing on the line but Prinzi’s breathing. “Are you sure of this?”

“Yes,” said Wilson.

“Well, that is very unfortunate. I apologize.”

“It was someone else in his apartment.”

“Oh, that’s not good. They’re supposed to ask. If not, some kind of identification.”

Wilson shook his head incredulously. He almost wanted to laugh.

“However, sometimes circumstances don’t permit. Things happen in these situations. Nick’s employees are very good, I can vouch for them. But even in the best of hands, these things can be unpredictable, Michael. This is the reality. And remember, when we spoke, you yourself could not give me a description of the gentleman in question.”

“Well, we’ve got a problem,” said Wilson.

“
You
have a problem,” Prinzi corrected him. “However, I’m not a man to shirk my responsibilities. When I say I’ll do something, it will be done. This is a matter of honor for me. Like paying my money, Michael, must be a matter of honor for you.”

Wilson grimaced. It would be two deaths now instead of one. “This is bad, Tony. It feels like it’s getting out of hand.”

“Now, Michael. Let me reassure you. Once you set a course of action, you must stick to it resolutely. Those who waver are lost. Surely I don’t need to tell this to you, a captain of industry.”

Wilson didn’t reply.

“I have said to you, Michael, this is a matter of honor for me. That is enough.”

“Okay, Tony,” said Wilson quietly.

“Good. So now we must find this gentleman. Usually, this isn’t too difficult. You got a picture of him? I don’t think we want any more mistakes.”

“No. I don’t have a picture.”

“Tell me again where he works.”

“Dyson Whitney.”

“That’s a bank?”

“Yes, it’s an investment bank.”

“Spell it for me, please. We want to be sure.”

Wilson spelled it.

“Not so fast, Mike.”

Wilson spelled it again. He imagined Prinzi holding the pen in his fist like some kind of ape.

“Whitney with an H?” said Prinzi. “English is funny, don’t you think? Who would think of such spelling? It’s an interest of mine, the spelling of English.”

Wilson didn’t respond.

“Okay,” said Prinzi. “Now, another thought. Many organizations today have pictures of their employees on the Internet. Not my own, I should add.”

Very funny, thought Wilson.

“We might find one. We’ll check. Mike, very likely he won’t be staying at his apartment now. There’ll be police involved. If you can find out anything about his whereabouts, that would be helpful.”

Wilson nodded wearily.

“Did you hear me, Mike? Each of us must do what he can.”