Due Diligence: A Thriller (43 page)

And then what? Then he’d be a bigger suspect than before. They’d take the protection away, and whoever killed Greg would still be waiting for him.

Then go back a step, he told himself. Was he really sure he was the intended victim? Maybe not. It was just a theory. Was that important? He thought about it. It was as he had told himself in the coffee shop. There were two possibilities. One, they wanted Greg—end of story. Two, they wanted him—which meant the story was still unfolding.

Rob stared at the ceiling in the darkness, trying to keep that thought clear in his head. Two possibilities. Be analytical, he told himself. Pretend like it’s a case back in business school. A strategy case. You’ve got two possibilities, two scenarios. In the first, the process is finished—there are no further implications, not for you, anyway. In the second, the process is continuing and the implications for you are catastrophic. You don’t know which scenario is the real one. You’re in a state of uncertainty. So it’s about probabilities. That was the core question. How low would the probability of the second scenario have to be before you ignored it, before you chose to do nothing about it and take the chance that it was wrong?

Low, thought Rob. Very low. Given the severity of the consequences, zero.

He couldn’t ignore the chance that the second scenario was true while there was even the slightest probability that it was. And if he couldn’t ignore it, that meant he had to behave as if it
were
true. If you’re faced with a potentially catastrophic scenario, but you don’t know whether it’s actually happening, you act as if it is. Don’t you? Obviously, you do.

So that’s what he had to do. He made a decision. From that moment, until he knew for certain otherwise, he was going to act on the assumption that Greg’s killers had been after him.

And that meant it had to be related to the deal. It couldn’t be anything else. And that meant he needed hard evidence of what Louisiana Light had been doing. Evidence that a bunch of cops who needed a suspect couldn’t ignore.

But where could he get that? Only from inside Louisiana Light itself. That kind of evidence would be buried deep under layers and layers of documents and camouflage. No one found out what had really been going on inside Enron until the company went bankrupt and its innards were exposed to outsiders. But the Leopard’s innards were tightly packed and sealed. The only way to get the evidence was to get inside them.

It was ironic. If it were the Buffalo, he could have gotten on a plane and walked into the data room in London and found whatever he wanted. There was exactly the same data room for the Leopard right here in New York, not more than forty blocks from where he was lying at that very moment, and yet he couldn’t go into it because it was open only for people on the other side of the deal. Yet it was only the fact that he didn’t have access that prevented him …

For a moment, Rob didn’t breathe. Louisiana Light
was
open. It was vulnerable. For the space of just a few days, no more, its belly was slit and its innards were on show. Whoever was examining them just needed to know which parts to look at.

It just needed the right kind of due diligence.

The Buffalo could do it. Its people were doing their due diligence. It could get inside the Leopard. If the Buffalo knew where to look, it would do the job for him. It would find the evidence he couldn’t get himself. It only had to be told where to start.

How? He had to be credible, otherwise they’d ignore him.

There was a way, but it would take time. How much time? Rob calculated. A day at least. Maybe a couple.

And in the meantime, he had to act as if the second scenario were true. He had to act as if Greg’s killers had been looking for him. As if they were still looking for him.

They had found where he lived. How long until they tracked him here? He had to assume they would. Maybe he had a head start. Maybe they didn’t know they’d gotten the wrong guy yet. But how much longer did he have?

He wasn’t safe here. More important, Emmy wasn’t safe, not while he was with her.

Rob turned to look at her. She lay, back toward him, dark hair streaming over the pillow, the blanket showing the curve of her body. Her breathing was even, regular.

He watched her form in the shadow. He’d die if anything happened to her.

He knew what he had to do. There was only one way to get to the Buffalo and keep Emmy safe at the same time.

He reached out to touch her cheek, but didn’t dare. Right now, he was Emmy’s worst enemy. As long as he was here, she was in danger.

For a moment longer, he watched her. He had never loved her so much as now, at the leaving of her.

He had to go. Right now. He eased himself out of bed and gathered up his clothes. Emmy stirred. He froze. She murmured something. Rob waited. Then he picked up his shoes and left the bedroom, silently closing the door behind him.

He went into the living room and turned on a lamp. He looked at his watch. It was a little after four. He dressed and checked that he had everything he needed. Cell phone. Credit card. Passport. Always have them with you. Cynthia was right. Good advice.

He sat down to write a note.

Em,
he wrote.
You’ll be safer without me. I’ve gone. I’m safe. I’ll come back.

He added another line.

I love you
.
Trust me.

He read it over. Then he suddenly thought: What if they come? What if they tracked him down here and he was gone and they turned up and found Emmy by herself?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

He didn’t want to wake her. She wouldn’t let him go.

But he couldn’t leave her here.

He went back into the bedroom. “Emmy,” he said quietly. He touched her shoulder. “Emmy, wake up.”

She stirred. He turned on a light. She blinked, her eyes adjusting. Then she stared at him.

“What time is it? Why are you dressed?”

“Emmy, we’ve got to leave. It’s not safe here. They can find us.”

She sat up in the bed. “Where are we going?”

“You need to go somewhere safe. Maybe go to your folks’.”

“My folks’?” She smiled, despite the situation. “You want to go to my folks’?”

“Not me. You.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going somewhere else.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Rob shook his head.

“Where are you going?” Emmy waited for a moment, then repeated the question.

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“I am not going to my folks’ to sit around in Rochester not knowing what the hell’s going on with you. Now you tell me where you’re going!”

Rob glanced at his watch. They weren’t safe here, either of them. Every minute added to the risk.

Emmy folded her arms. “I’m not leaving unless you tell me where you’re going.”

“All right,” said Rob. He told her as briefly as he could, feeling the seconds ticking away.

“I’m coming with you.” She got out of bed.

“No, Emmy. This is something I’ve got to do. You don’t need to be involved.”

She stopped, standing in front of him in her T-shirt. “You don’t get it, do you, Rob? I am involved. If something’s happening to you, it’s happening to me. It doesn’t stop
here,
or
here,
or
here.
It’s everything. It’s the whole lot, the good and the bad. It’s all or nothing, Rob. All or nothing!”

No, thought Rob. Not now. Please don’t start now.

But she had no intention of starting. This wasn’t the time for it, and she knew it. She was immediately practical. “What do I need to bring?”

Rob shook his head. “Emmy, it’s too dangerous. They’re going to be looking for me. Doesn’t matter where I am, they’re still going to be looking for me.”

“Oh?” said Emmy. “And I hadn’t worked that out?” She pulled on a sweater over her T-shirt.

“You don’t understand—”

“No,
you
don’t understand.” Emmy’s head came out through the top of the sweater, her face covered in hair. “You do not have the right to do this.” She brushed her hair away, trembling with anger. “Do you understand me? You do not have the right! Just reverse the tables. Imagine me saying this to you. Imagine me saying, ‘Go to your folks’, Rob, and I’m going to go out and do what I have to do.’ Imagine it! What would you do?”

“It’s different.”

“No, it’s not different! You always think you need to protect me, don’t you? Well, you don’t. Not if I can’t protect you.”

“Emmy,” said Rob, shaking his head, “you’re the most precious thing I’ve got.”

“And you’re the most precious thing I’ve got! Think about it, Rob. What if the tables were turned and I said the same thing to you? Think about how it would feel. Tell me. Would you do it? Would you just leave me and go off quietly to your folks’?”

Rob was silent.

“No. Never.” Emmy shook her head. “You don’t need to do everything by yourself. It doesn’t always have to be Rob against the world. You’re allowed to have some help.” She paused. “Even if it’s only from a book editor.”

Rob gazed at her. “Book editors can be quite fearsome, I see.”

“You’re damn right we can.” Emmy turned to the wardrobe and pulled on a pair of jeans. “I say: Fuck ’em!
Fuck ’em!
If they get one of us, they get us both.”

Rob couldn’t help smiling. Emmy put out her fist. Rob bumped it.

Emmy put on a pair of sneakers. Then she looked back at him. Her gaze was serious. “All right?”

Rob nodded. He couldn’t do anything but. She was amazing, a force of nature.

“Good. What else do I need?”

“Not much,” said Rob. “Have you got your passport?”

45

Phil Menendez sat across the table from Pete Stanzy, marking up Stanzy’s changes to the due diligence report. They couldn’t touch the final drafts of the legal and accounting sections, only the executive summary and the financials they had produced themselves. But Stanzy was happy.

“I’d buy this fucking company,” he said, closing his copy of the report.

“For twelve-point-five billion?” said Menendez.

Stanzy laughed. He was feeling pretty good. The loan pledges were coming together. Wilson didn’t seem to care what premium they were paying anymore. Suddenly, junk was okay. Golansky, who had used every contact he had on the Street, was beginning to say it might fall into place.

“Go,” he said. “Fax it once you do the changes. We don’t want Mike Wilson doing anything tricky with an electronic copy.” Stanzy paused. “By the way, Phil, what happened to the analyst?”

Menendez’s face darkened. “Holding? He’s still not there.”

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t shown. Pete, we gotta fire that little fuck.”

“Hasn’t anyone called him?”

“No. Like a million times.” Menendez had worked all night with Sammy Weiss and Cynthia Holloway to get the draft of the report in final shape, spending half the time on the phone yelling at Grayson Arpel lawyers and DeGrave Peterhouse accountants, who had been up all night themselves, sending over reworked drafts of their own sections.

“So he’s just disappeared?” Stanzy frowned. “What did you say happened? His friend got murdered, right?”

“Yeah. And my gerbil died when I was in the fourth grade, but do you see me crying?”

Phil Menendez couldn’t remember an analyst going AWOL. Simply disappearing without even trying some pathetic excuse about being sick. He took it personally. It was an affront to his dignity. It was insulting. People were going to laugh at him behind his back. This you didn’t do to the Shark. Menendez could hardly wait for Rob to show up so he could give him what he had coming.

“I’d better talk to him when he comes in,” said Stanzy. “Let me know.”

“What?”

“When he comes in, Phil.”

Menendez snorted.

“All right,” said Stanzy. “Go and make the changes. Send it to Wilson’s private fax. Wait till I call you before you start.”

“Right.”

“I want to be absolutely sure Wilson’s there to receive it himself. Don’t fax before you hear from me, right?”

Menendez rolled his eyes.

“Get out of here,” said Stanzy.

Menendez left.

Stanzy got Wilson on the phone.

“Mike,” he said, “the due diligence report’s done. We’re about to fax you a copy. We’ll send the finance document as well. Can you be by your private fax? That’s the eighty-two twenty-eight extension, right?”

“It’s right here in my office, Pete. I’m looking right at her.”

“Okay. We’re going to start sending in a few minutes. When you’ve had a look at it, call me back and we’ll talk through anything you want to change.”

“Am I looking for anything?”

“Absolutely not. She’s clean, Mike. This is about the best due diligence I’ve ever seen. I was just saying to my VP, I’d buy this company myself.”

“Find your own one, Mr. Stanzy!”

Pete laughed.

“You know, Pete, I really appreciate all this,” said Wilson.

“You’re paying for it, Mike.”

“Still, your guys are putting in. I’m guessing they didn’t get too much sleep last night.”

“All part of the service.”

“Hell of a job. How are they holding up?”

“Fine,” said Pete.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

“No problems?”

“No.”

“Really? Nothing?”

Stanzy didn’t answer right away. Mike Wilson had never shown any interest in the team before. Suddenly he had a feeling that Wilson wasn’t asking now purely out of concern for them. He wondered if Wilson had heard something. Clients always get spooked if they think there’s trouble with the team, but if they find out you’ve been holding out on them, it’s even worse.

Wilson seemed pretty happy, thought Pete. Everything was falling into place. He could take the chance.

“One of our young guys, Mike, one of the junior guys on the team … he’s had a bit of a personal problem.”

“What’s that?” asked Wilson.

“One of his friends was found dead yesterday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Murdered, apparently.”

“Hell, that sounds pretty horrible. How is he?”