“Who were his closest confidants in the partnership?” Wilson asked, pushing his chair back from the table and feeling suddenly protective and defensive about his father.
“No way to know for certain,” Carter answered. “I found nothing that openly revealed the agendas or inner workings of Fielder & Company’s secretive meetings with client CEOs. Every year there were dozens of outings with groups of CEOs at exclusive resorts, but no records. The only thing I was able to document was the pattern of manipulation and disinformation among Fielder & Company clients. It’s all in the client correspondence, especially emails. Sudden board changes, management reorganizations, carefully timed spinouts, merger and acquisition rumors, surprise divestitures, frequent IPOs, disarmingly candid press releases, shareholder scare tactics, threatened lawsuits, leaked memos about new products and services, anonymous chat-room revelations, innuendoes about…”
Wilson interrupted. “Daniel claimed everything Fielder & Company recommended to its clients was legally defensible.”
“Everything I just mentioned can be made to fit the technical requirements of a legal defense. I suspect it’s how the partnership lured its new members,” Carter said.
“How did you discover all of this so quickly? I’ve been through my father’s files…”
Now it was Carter’s turn to interrupt. “Email logs. As a historian you learn to avoid the most obvious and plentiful information sources in favor of the obscure and hidden ones. They tend to be less manufactured and manipulated. Email logs are easily retrieved, scanned, and queried, if you know how to do it.”
“What else, Carter?” Wilson asked, his head full of questions and suspicions about Carter. It was time for confrontation. “You could not have come to these conclusions just from email logs. What else do you know about my father that you haven’t told us?”
Carter hesitated a moment. “This is the difficult part. Fielder & Company’s more questionable activities were handled through an elaborate shadow network. Charles hinted at it from time to time, but I never understood it until now, thanks to his assistant Anne Cartwright. Either unwittingly or deliberately, she showed me enough pieces to put the puzzle together,” he said, pausing to open one of the manila folders lying in front of him. “A network of highly discreet purveyors provided client CEOs with whatever they wanted—competitor espionage, eavesdropping, lobbying schemes, inside tracks on government contracts, political clout, hacking into computer systems, access to restricted databases, off-shore tax shelters, private investment deals available only to insiders, confidential corporate information, mega-stakes gambling, designer drugs, fashion models and actresses, exotic getaways, personalized security, counter surveillance, legal protection, even contract assassins.”
The room was deathly silent.
“I think that’s why Charles was seeking my help,” Carter continued. “He’d created this ultimate insider’s club with the intent to one day expose it, showing the world just how easy it is to manipulate stock exchanges, live above the law, and exploit the masses. My guess is he was trying to finish the job his grandfather Harry Wilson Fielder, Congressman Louis T. McFadden, and William Tate Boyles had started decades earlier.”
“What about the KaneWeller merger. Won’t that expose them?” Rachel asked as she squirmed in her chair, looking terrified.
“By my estimate, less than half of Fielder & Company’s client CEOs are members of the partnership; it’s safe to assume that they’ll distance themselves from the new merger as soon as they can, without raising any eyebrows. Within a year or so, I suspect the partnership will be operating completely on its own through new organizations. The murders have made it impossible for them to dissolve the secret society, which leaves them only one course of action—protect, defend, and expand. The bigger they get, the less vulnerable they become,” Carter said, looking at Wilson.
Wilson was deep in thought. The puzzle pieces were finally solidifying into a complete picture. He knew what needed to be done. It was time to act. “We have to stop them,” Wilson said resolutely.
“My sentiments, precisely,” Carter said. “Otherwise, we’ll never be rid of them. They will keep us under surveillance indefinitely, while continuing to exploit and manipulate everything that is near and dear to all of us, right under our noses,” Carter said.
“So what are we supposed to do?” Rachel blurted.
“Keep them believing that we are moving on with our lives. Meanwhile, we need to carefully and discreetly turn everything we have over to the FBI. Let our government do what we pay them to do,” Carter said, casting a probing look at Wilson. “We have neither the resources nor the expertise to expose them.”
Wilson considered Carter for several moments before shaking his head. Carter was baiting him and he knew it.
“I disagree. We’re the only ones who can expose them. And thanks to my father, we do have the resources,” Wilson was firm; he glanced over at Emily, whose eyebrows were raised in astonishment.
“Carter’s right,” Rachel pleaded. “We should turn everything over to the authorities. You have to let it go, Wilson.”
Emily decided to step in. Taking Wilson’s arm, she gently pulled him toward her.
“We need a break,” she said.
Wilson didn’t put up any resistance, suggesting that everyone take a fifteen-minute. Then he steered Emily toward the guest bedroom.
“You can’t be serious,” Emily said, as soon as they were alone. “We have no choice but to turn this over to the FBI. Where are you coming from? You can’t believe…”
But Wilson cut her off mid-sentence. Although sympathetic toward Emily’s stance, he was resolved as to the course of action he needed to take.
“I know it seems like I’m overreacting, but everything we’ve been talking about just started getting clearer. Much clearer. The CEOs in this partnership are too wealthy, too powerful, and too essential to the American economy for the FBI to expose them. We’d be better off going to
The Wall Street Journal
or
The New York Times
.”
“Why do you want to put our lives in further danger?” Emily said, her brow deeply furrowed. “You really think that’s what your father wanted?”
“Of course not,” Wilson said with a slight edge to his voice.
“Then why won’t you accept Carter’s advice and leave it to the FBI,” Emily retorted, no longer able to keep the edge out of her voice.
“We can’t turn this over to the bureaucracy. Not yet.”
“Not everyone who works for the government is a puppet or incompetent,” Emily insisted.
“Em, it’s not a question of competence or expertise or even resources,” Wilson replied, his tone softer now.
“What is it then?” Emily demanded, maintaining her ire.
“I don’t trust them,” Wilson explained. “Exposing this sort of calculated scheming, by hundreds of CEOs from the world’s largest corporations, is asking too much of them. The international ramifications and global economic entanglements are too great.”
Emily’s eyes had grown hard and angry.
But Wilson could see the fear behind the anger. He knew this was what scared her about him. When he became willful and—in her estimation—obstinate and isolated, he was no different than the CEOs he was hired to transform. But he couldn’t ignore the sense of rightness he felt about his new resolve.
“Why, all of a sudden, do you feel so committed to this course of action?” Emily asked, her voice growing calmer.
“Let’s face it, if Carter is right about this insider’s club of CEOs, a full-blown investigation with the intent to expose everything would constitute a threat to national security too great for any government to justify, especially a self-righteous superpower like the United States. We’ve been preaching market capitalism and the rule of law to the entire world since World War II. There would be immediate global outrage, a wave of international reprisals against the U.S., and then economic chaos throughout the world,” Wilson said, seized by a rush of righteous indignation. “If we give this to the FBI now, they’ll have no choice but to make some arrests, deliver a few indictments, and then cover it up in the name of national security and global stability. You know that’s what would happen.”
Emily wrapped her arms around Wilson. “Let’s finish this meeting with Carter, then we can talk some more.”
When they reconvened in the belfry library, Carter was the first to speak.
“How long have you been thinking this way, Wilson?”
“Less than an hour,” he said, glancing at Emily. Then he returned his focus to Carter. “I’ve been putting the pieces of this puzzle together since my father was shot. Corruption expands until it’s exposed. Completely exposed. Even if the FBI, the SEC, the Justice Department, the NSA, or any other government agency actually succeeded in disbanding Fielder & Company’s secret network, none of them would ever acknowledge the full extent to which the system of capitalism has broken down. And without full acknowledgement, we will never be able to correct things.”
“That’s what you want? The possible disintegration of our country, our way of life, every good thing this nation has ever accomplished, just so you can correct Dad’s mistakes?” Rachel said, drawing her hair back tightly against her head with both hands.
“Don’t you think I’ve considered the consequences?” Wilson jumped in, before his sister could continue. “There’s only one way to protect yourself from evil. You have to expose all of its ugly implications and consequences, so you and your children and their children can have a better life.” He stopped when he saw the tears in Emily’s eyes.
For a brief moment, he reconsidered his position. Am I overreacting to my feelings of frustration and powerlessness? Can the government do the right thing? Have I become obsessed with my father’s and great-grandfather’s quest? But his introspection lasted only a few moments before his certainty and commitment returned, stronger than before.
“What else can I say? I honestly believe that our collective future depends on exposing this web of corruption. And I think we’re the only ones who can do it. In fact, I believe it’s the only way we’ll be able to save our own lives.”
“Only God can expose evil in all its forms,” Rachel said in a final attempt to dissuade Wilson.
Dead silence hung in the air for several moments. Emily and Rachel looked at each other as if awaiting their deaths on the gallows. It was Carter, who broke the silence.
“What did you have in mind, Wilson?”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
Carter smiled while Emily and Rachel looked stoic and pale. They all agreed to sleep on it. One by one, they returned to the string quartet’s rehearsal in the large family room at the back of the house. Wilson’s mother and Elizabeth Emerson were sitting next to each other on the yellow sectional that wrapped around the large glass coffee table. Darrin was lying back on the fully extended moss-green lounge chair with his eyes closed. Aunt Sarah was rocking little Mary to sleep in the Scandinavian rocker. Savoy and his associate Case were standing at the back near the French doors to the verandah. The string quartet was seated in a semi-circle near the stone fireplace. It was a warm and inviting ambiance, if only they could have enjoyed it.
The four of them took seats on the sectional for a few minutes before Carter and his wife had to leave. After a few more minutes of casual conversation with Rachel and Wilson’s mother, Emily left for the guestroom on the second floor. She told Wilson she needed some time to herself. He understood her concern, but he wasn’t about to change his mind. Tenacity can be a dangerous trait but only when you’re wrong. I’m not wrong: their lives depend on my resolve. He returned to the belfry library to begin working on an implementation plan.
Since returning from Banff, David Quinn felt as though he’d died a thousand deaths. Monday’s edition of
The Wall Street Journal
carried a front-page article about the J. B. Musselman Company and its decision to fire the prestigious management consulting firm of Kresge & Company for questioning Musselman’s future viability and recommending the company’s breakup. As a result of the rumor mill generated by the article, Musselman’s stock yo-yoed erratically until it plummeted by almost thirty percent in value. Quinn was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted from worrying about collateralizing his stock options and agonizing over every quarter point drop in the company’s stock. When the stock finally bottomed out at 97/8 a share and Hardware City made its tender offer of 117/8, Quinn was begging for deliverance.
Then, miraculously, another aggressive buyer in the form of Pace Warehouses along with the secret partnership’s network of buyers went on a competitive buying spree, eventually bringing the trading of Musselman stock to a near complete halt. All of the shareholders who now owned Musselman’s 950 million shares of stock were holding their positions, waiting for someone to sell or offer another premium. That’s when the bid price from floor traders began climbing to keep trading alive, just as expected. As the floor price approached thirteen dollars a share, Hardware City announced that it had been blocked in its takeover attempt. The hostile suitor began selling the stock it had purchased to a growing group of anxious investors who now saw Musselman stock as a superb undervalued opportunity. The stock price moved quickly back to fourteen dollars.
Tate and Kamin had delivered on their promise. Quinn felt resurrected, barely able to contain his elation. He kissed Kamin on the cheek three times—once for Kamin, once for Tate, who had already gone to the airport to catch a flight to Rome for another client retreat, and once for the anonymous contingent that had helped to prevent Musselman’s takeover by Hardware City.
As the week progressed, things only got better. Thursday’s edition of
The Wall Street Journal
carried another front-page article on Musselman, this time heralding the company’s upcoming grand opening of America’s Warehouse as the reason for David Quinn’s courageous stand against Kresge & Company and Hardware City:
David Quinn’s vision for reinventing the J. B. Musselman Company seems destined for success. His bold strategy to convert thousands of distribution warehouses into bargain basements called America’s Warehouse, has already won enormous media attention. According to Musselman’s advertising agency Boggs & Saggett, shoppers will find better values and greater varieties than anywhere else.
Driven by an unwavering determination to turn Musselman’s twenty-five billion dollar roll-up of local and regional warehouses into an industry powerhouse, CEO Quinn has surmounted huge obstacles. He battled a skeptical board of directors, renowned management consultants who recommended dismantling the company, and a hostile takeover bid by Hardware City Stores. Now he claims to have engineered a corporate turnaround epitomized by a marketing campaign the likes of which this industry has never seen.
After yesterday’s dramatic rebound in the company’s stock price, some analysts are speculating that Musselman’s launch of America’s Warehouse next week will revolutionize the industry. This could become the biggest success story in mass merchandising since
Amazon.com
, but with traditional bricks and mortar, not digital web pages …