three of our oldest clients… your oldest clients… Companies that for years have made up the bedrock of our business…’ He hesitated at the moment of commitment. ‘Mulder Incorporated… Encomp… Innsflow International…’
A flush began to suffuse Northcote’s face, accentuated by the pure whiteness of his hair, but when he spoke the loudness had gone from his voice. ‘None of your business… How…?’
‘In the vaults. Your safe was open. And it is my business, because I’m taking over this business, which I intend to do as a memorial to you.’
‘Spy!’ accused the other man.
‘I went to close it properly. Which you hadn’t done.’
‘My personal clients…’ The unaccustomedly subdued voice trailed away.
‘Yes, George,’ picked up Carver. ‘Always your personal clients. And still your personal clients, whom no one else had anything to do with.’
‘Retained with the full agreement of the partners. Yourself, my successor as senior partner, included. In signed minutes.’
Why, wondered Carver, had Northcote felt it necessary to remind him of his succession to the chairmanship upon his father-in-law’s semi-retirement? Or of the minutes acknowledging Northcote’s continued handling of the three accounts being officially signed and recorded? ‘They never went through general audit: haven’t done for years. Always your personal audit and you always personally signed them off.’
‘There is no regulation – Security Exchange Commission or otherwise – requiring that they should go through general audit. Everything was perfectly legal.’
Carver decided that Northcote wasn’t sufficiently outraged – offended – at his having gone into a safe to which he officially had no right: wasn’t even asking the proper questions. ‘All three are offshore.’
‘Which is declared. There is no contravention of any regulation.’
‘They’ve all grown, since their formation all those years ago.’
‘Well-run – well-audited and well-accounted companies – all grow and return profits.’
‘Mulder Inc. has a seven hundred and fifty million dollar entertainment investment, worldwide. Encomp has five hundred and fifty million dollars of utilities supply portfolios, again worldwide. Innsflow International is diversified into publishing, hotels and entertainment in Europe, the Far East and even Russia.’
‘You’ve spent a lot of time checking on me.’ There was still no outrage.
‘I did check, George. In-house. Called them up, on the computer. They’re on the client list. But that’s all, just listed as names and holdings. There aren’t any details, apart from that.’
‘They’re offshore. There don’t need to be computer records – any records – on file for offshore countries.’
Carver sighed heavily, feeling like an irritating fly bouncing from impenetrable window to impenetrable window. ‘You’re a legend on Wall Street, George. I want it to stay that way. You deserve for it to stay that way.’
‘I’m still waiting for you to make your point.’
‘The figures don’t add up, not the ones you left in your open safe. They do, on what’s been submitted by their accountants for independent audit by you. And which you’ve signed off. But they don’t if they’re audited properly. You’ve legally attested their accuracy. And by doing so exposed this firm, your firm, to criminal investigation! You’ve sanctioned a massive profit-inflating operation. On a scale that I haven’t been able yet to calculate: am frightened to calculate. They’re being floated, right? Blown up to suck in the punters: open at ten, finish the week at two hundred, insider traders getting out with enough to buy the villa in the Caribbean or South of France before the bubble pops.’
Northcote snorted a laugh. ‘You want my advice, on that assessment don’t try to calculate anything.’
‘It’s not advice I want. It’s explanation. I told you we were talking about you, me and the firm. About everything. And that’s precisely it. If this ever became public: if…’ Carver actually just stopped himself from saying that if it ever became an innuendo in the sort of financial commentary Alice Belling was so adept at compiling. ‘The house – this house, all our houses – would come tumbling down.’
‘You think…’ started Northcote, lost his way and then managed: ‘… believe I haven’t worked all that out!’
‘I’d like to know exactly – very exactly – what you have worked out. And where you – where we all – are going from here?’
‘Nowhere,’ declared Northcote. ‘That’s precisely and exactly where we’re going. Nowhere. At the annual meeting I am going to announce the reluctant severing with this firm of Mulder Incorporated, Encomp and Innsflow International. Their choosing alternative, independent auditing accountants will be based upon their long-standing personal relationship with me, which the partners already know about and recognize. And which is being brought to an end by my finally – and fully – retiring…’ Northcote smiled at last. ‘Which is what I am going to do. Live in the country, cut my grass, help Jane with her charity fundraising and start playing with my new golf clubs.’
‘Just like that!’ said Carver, snapping his fingers.
‘Just like that,’ echoed Northcote, mocking the finger snap with one of his own.
‘What’s it all about, George?’
‘You don’t need to know that.’
‘I do, if I am going to protect this firm: keep it safe.’
‘I’m protecting the firm.’
‘Who are they?’
‘You don’t need to know that, either.’
‘They know what you’re going to do?’
‘That’s why I stayed on, for the extra year. To tidy things up and to bring it all to an end. You think I…’ There was another familiar hesitation. ‘It’s all going to be resolved.’
‘Going to be,’ seized Carver, at once. ‘Hasn’t it been, yet?’
‘It’s my problem. I’m sorting it out.’
Carver gazed around Northcote’s mahogany-panelled, leather-Chesterfielded office with its corner-window glimpse of Battery Park City and the intervening pillared monuments to wealth and power and corporate cunning, for once – for the first time – not feeling the comfort, and the pride, of being part of it. He said: ‘I’m aware of a possible criminal activity. There are regulations governing that. Quite a lot, in fact.’
Northcote looked blankly at him. Then indignantly – close to being big-voiced again – he said: ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘I’m being professional. In everything you’ve said – every inference you’ve made – you’ve assumed I’ll go along with what you’ve got in mind: everything you’ve got in mind but won’t tell me.’
Northcote held up a hand. ‘A long time ago, when I was first starting out and needed every break I could get…’ The block came but he made jerky gestures with the still raised hand against Carver intruding. ‘I got caught up in a situation which developed as it did… innocently caught up, with no idea what was happening until I was involved. Couldn’t get out. I’ve lived with it, all these years. Now it’s over: I’m promising you that it’s over. I’m leaving you with one of the foremost accountancy firms in the financial world. You’re already a rich man and you’re going to become richer. You’ve got it all and not just because I’m handing it over to you: because you’re good – the successor I hoped you would be – and because you deserve it
… I… you…’ he stumbled once more to a halt. ‘You earned it. You trying to tell me you’re now going to tear it all down – pull all the houses down, to use your words – by going to the SEC or whoever to put the gun into your own mouth and pull the trigger?’
At that moment Carver wasn’t sure what he was telling anyone and certainly not what he was being told. ‘We’re involved with organized crime! The Mafia!’
Northcote took a long time to reply. Finally he said: ‘I’m handling it.’
‘You going to be able to give me an unbreakable assurance that by Friday it’ll all be over?’ What was he saying? Why was he accepting it?
‘Dead and buried,’ insisted Northcote, at once. ‘Who I’m seeing tonight is their representative…’ He looked at his watch. ‘And I’m already late.’ There was another brief smile. ‘I telephoned, to warn him. He’ll be waiting.’
‘I want to come with you,’ announced Carver.
Northcote snorted yet another dismissive laugh. ‘It began and it ends with me. Only me. The protection for
