Club’s large arching windows, Hap listened to input from his colleagues while formulating his own answer. “Swatling knew we’d identify him and his listening device, so what’s he up to?”
Wilson waited until Hap had finished listening to his colleagues. “You said Swatling was a former client. Who quit who?” Wilson asked.
“We did. His demands began compromising our ethics. Is he part of this secret partnership?” Hap asked as he took another bite of his salad.
“Until now, I had no reason to think so,” Wilson said, feeling vulnerable. “He’s a close friend of my father’s. They were board members here at the club for several years. I went to prep school with his son, Bobby. Haven’t seen him in years. I don’t know what to tell you. There’s still plenty I don’t know about my father.”
“I brought an additional team with me. All of you are under twenty-four-hour surveillance, counter- surveillance, and coverage for maximum physical protection.”
“You’re worried about Swatling, aren’t you?” Wilson said, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening.
Hap nodded. “Swatling knows we’re meeting. He knows we’re jamming the conversation. He wants us to know he’s here. He’ll escalate. Better equipment, better surveillance teams, until he gets what he wants.” Hap stopped to study Wilson carefully. “Based on what you’ve told me and our preliminary assessment, not to mention Swatling’s involvement, I suspect this secret partnership will do whatever it takes to neutralize you.”
“What’s the price tag for your twenty-four-hour services?”
“$200,000 a week plus expenses, payable at the end of each month.”
“I’ll pay five times that if you’ll guarantee no body bags.”
Hap leaned forward continuing to examine Wilson like a therapist. “You need to understand something, Wilson. What we do is anticipate and react. We don’t control anything. If there are extreme measures, we’ll do everything we can to protect you in the short term. After that, we bring in the authorities. If what you want is a guarantee, walk away from this and go to the authorities right now.”
“I can’t.”
“Then your well-being depends on exposing them quickly, before they figure out what you’re doing.”
“Does your involvement automatically increase their concerns?”
“Not necessarily. Based on the fact that we’ve worked together before, a contract with my firm would be a logical next step, especially after the death of your attorney and threats to your mother and girlfriend. They already know you’re worried about the surveillance. Plus you’ve just taken over your father’s firm. They were expecting this, and they let us know a few minutes ago.”
“Any reservations?”
“None. You’re already paying double my usual fee.”
Wilson scanned Hap’s eyes, asking himself again, if he was ready to place the well-being of his family and loved ones in the hands of a man he admired and respected professionally, but with whom he had only a limited personal history. But if not Hap, who? Wilson didn’t know where his feelings of assurance came from as he pondered the question, but he grabbed a hold. “Okay, when do we move my father?”
Hap took his last bite of salad before responding. “We don’t. We have a better chance of protecting him right where he is. I have three people at the hospital working undercover. He’ll have 24/7 protection. You, on the other hand, will have to move. We’re arranging for an apartment near the Fielder amp; Company building. We can do a better job of protecting you and your family if you’re separated.”
Wilson nodded hesitantly, but decided to trust Hap’s judgment. “I’m planning a trip next with Fielder amp; Company’s senior executives to tour the firm’s seven offices. After that Emily and I are going to Venice for a week.”
“You’re not going to make this easy are you?”
Wilson didn’t say anything as the waiter cleared their plates.
Hap continued, “I’ll need people here to watch Emily and at least two with you on your office tour. And, I’m afraid you won’t be going to Venice alone. They’ll be discreet, but they’ll be there, watching your every move.”
Wilson nodded his head in agreement. “What about the others?”
“Looks like you won’t be having much contact with them this week or next, which is good. The less contact the better. I’ll be conducting deep background checks on all of them, including Emily.”
“Why?” Wilson said, caught off guard.
“Trust no one, Wilson. It’s safer.”
“I trust these people with my life.”
“Your father probably felt the same way about his circle of intimates.”
Wilson placed his napkin on the table in front of him. “Carter Emerson is the only one who could be a member of the secret partnership, but I’m satisfied that his interests are aligned with mine and my father’s. I have to trust that, otherwise we have no chance of exposing the people who shot my father, killed Daniel Redd, and have been fleecing Wall Street.”
“I hope you’re right, but I can’t rely on it. We never take on this level of risk without knowing everything about the principals, and we never accept anyone’s assumptions about anything. Isn’t that what they taught you at Kresge amp; Company?”
“You’ve already started the background checks, haven’t you?” Wilson asked, questioning his own fears.
“As soon as you called.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon going over Wilson’s plans for infiltrating the secret partnership, as well as details about each of the people Hap Greene and his associates would be protecting. Having Hap on board was a relief.
26
Wilson — Boston, MA
Wilson was shocked by the hearty welcome he received when he stepped out of the elevator on the tenth floor of the Fielder Building on Friday. He slowly worked his way through the busy corridors shaking hands and meeting people until arriving at his father’s office, with its impressive vista of the Charles River and MIT campus. Even though his perspective had changed dramatically since the last time he’d been in the office, the actual act of officially occupying his father’s workspace, with the intent to assume his father’s previous mantle of authority, felt weightier than he’d anticipated. Can I pull it off?
Just as he’d requested, Wilson spent the afternoon interviewing each of the firm’s six vice presidents. He’d met them all before, but things were different now that he was their boss, and his life literally depended on knowing them. His first meeting was with John Malouf, the most senior of the vice presidents and head of the corporate restructuring practice. He was an extreme version of his father, both in stature and demeanor, less talkative and more prone to glare, which proved unsettling for Wilson. Malouf seemed perfectly content with his arrogance and enigma. They sat down at the stone table.
“Do people ever mistake you for my father?” Wilson said.
“Sometimes,” Malouf said, deadpan.
“Are you as good as he is?” Wilson asked, deciding to be equally direct and to the point with this man who was still glaring at him.
“Yes and no,” he said without blinking an eyelash.
“Tell me about the no part,” Wilson said.
“Like every good student, there are some things you learn to do better than your teacher and other things you don’t. I still haven’t acquired his social adeptness or consciousness,” Malouf said.
They stared at each other for several moments until Wilson asked him to describe the corporate restructuring practice at Fielder amp; Company, which Malouf did for the next twenty minutes in a rather cryptic, matter-of-fact fashion. When Malouf was finished, Wilson said, “I look forward to getting to know you, John.”
Malouf shook Wilson’s hand without another word. As he left the office, Wilson asked him to send in Leigh Tennyson, the firm’s newest vice president. She directed the strategic change practice. She reminded him of a former professor-tall, brunette hair pulled back in a French roll, uneven facial features with a piercing look of
