Carter seemed surprisingly adept at playing both sides. After counseling Wilson that all shared clients should be given ample opportunity to work with both firms, Wilson said, “That works both ways.”
To which Carter immediately responded, “As long as Fielder amp; Company avoids the temptation to get into the corporate restructuring business.”
“Don’t worry,” Wilson said, furrowing his brow. “We’ll refer all our corporate restructuring leads to Malouf amp; Company during the next two years. After that, there’s no obligation, right?”
“Right, but make sure that no one jumps the gun. We want to give Malouf amp; Company ample opportunity to establish itself,” Carter said.
“No problem,” Wilson returned, looking at Carter with a cynical smirk, but no one seemed to notice. He wanted to yank Carter aside and tell him he was overdoing it, but Carter was playing his own hand. Wilson had no more illusions that Tate or anyone else in the partnership, including Carter, would do anything other than serve their own purposes. What he did trust, however, was Carter’s disclosure obsession. He kept reminding himself of that moment of clarity; Carter was not his enemy.
At three o’clock in the afternoon, Fielder amp; Company issued a press release via fax and email, announcing the spin-out of the corporate restructuring practice as a strategic decision to accelerate the development of both Fielder amp; Company and the newly created Malouf amp; Company. A three-page summary of the spin-out was also sent to all past, current, and prospective Fielder amp; Company clients and affiliated firms, explaining how the corporate restructuring practice had grown autonomous over the years. This spin-out would allow the new firm to expand and enhance its unique approach to providing ad hoc staff support services to CEOs and senior executives, while allowing Fielder amp; Company to do the same with its remaining practice areas.
Things were moving rapidly, but this time Wilson was ready. He’d played his part perfectly, albeit with a deep resentment in his chest. And even though he hadn’t heard from Emily in almost twenty-four hours, he remained hopeful that Hap’s men would find her and bring her home unharmed.
Later that evening, when Wilson returned to the Back Bay apartment through a new concealed entrance, Hap was waiting with Philip Johns and Kirsten Kohl. A man in his fifties, Johns was the head of the FBI’s Boston bureau; he was medium height with thinning red hair, a weathered face, and a trim physique. Kohl was a woman in her forties, stocky but fit with sympathetic eyes, and head of the FBI’s corporate crime division.
Hap had spent the entire day briefing Johns and Kohl by telephone and in person at the Back Bay apartment. Not surprisingly to Wilson, Johns and Kohl had already obtained authorization to launch a full-scale investigation. The only remaining caveat seemed to be a review of national security implications by the U.S. Attorney General, the National Security Advisor, and the President of the United States. But according to Johns and Kohl, FBI Director Bainbridge and Deputy Director Wiseman would have the necessary approvals before tomorrow morning.
As the four of them sat down together in the living room of the apartment, Wilson asked the most pressing question on his mind. “What about Emily?”
“Nothing from the first four airports where the highest number of aircraft landed. We’ll move to the second four before dawn,” Hap said.
Wilson’s heart sank. If they couldn’t find Emily by tomorrow night, the FBI would have to negotiate her release. Would the FBI be willing to negotiate with the secret partnership?
“First of all, let me assure you that we concur with Hap’s plan to rescue Emily,” Agent Kohl said. “We have dispatched backup teams to be used, as necessary, by Hap’s leads in the field. If we haven’t found her by tomorrow night, we’ll bring the hammer down on Tate, Swatling, Kamin, and Malouf.”
“Good,” Wilson said, staring at Kohl who was staring back. There was something about her that made him feel comfortable-conviction, resolve, savvy. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he liked the feeling. Maybe it was her concern about Emily. The FBI’s involvement made him feel both relieved and anxious. He prayed they’d do the right thing.
“Do you think your mother and Carter Emerson will cooperate?” Kohl asked.
“For immunity, yes,” Wilson said, just as Carter and he had discussed.
“That can be arranged,” Kohl said, without even a hint of hesitation.
It had probably been pre-approved, Wilson thought to himself. It was almost as if she’d been working on the case for months. The surprise on his face must have been apparent.
Kohl continued. “We’ve known about Tate and Kamin for a couple of weeks. David Quinn blew the whistle on them. Arrest warrants and subpoenas had already been issued when Quinn died, and our case along with him. We’re still not sure his death was a suicide. His wife’s death is also in question,” Kohl said. Then she added, “Wasn’t he a client of yours?”
“Yes,” Wilson said as he sat back on the sofa, reflecting on David Quinn and his resistance to breaking up the J. B. Musselman Company. “He didn’t want to listen to us. He was too sure of himself. I’m not surprised that Tate got to him. Desperation seems to open the door to manipulation.”
“His disclosures have allowed us to mobilize resources faster than usual,” Kohl returned.
Wilson nodded at the strange irony before turning his attention back to his family. “My mother has been out of the loop for several years and I would like to keep it that way,” Wilson said, feeling new empathy for her.
Kohl and Johns exchanged looks to confirm their agreement. Again, it was Kohl who responded, “We will honor that request as long as Mr. Emerson is willing to cooperate fully.”
“He will,” Wilson said.
“How soon can we see him?” Kohl asked.
“As soon as the immunity guarantees for Carter and my mother are in place,” Wilson said.
“We can have the necessary assurances in writing by mid-morning tomorrow,” Kohl said.
“You’re welcome to call Carter from here if you’d like, the phones at both ends are clean,” Wilson said, glancing at Hap to confirm.
Hap nodded, “All signs of surveillance have disappeared. They appear to have backed off completely, at least for the moment. My guess is it’s an attempt to make Wilson feel more comfortable.”
“We’d like you to arrange it,” Kohl said, her blue green eyes drilling Wilson.
“Why?” Wilson asked.
“We also want assurances,” Kohl said, hesitating for a moment. “It might be good to advise him of that before we make contact.”
“What sort of assurances?” Hap asked, surprised.
Kohl sat back on the black sofa and waited a moment. It was clear that this was her turf. She began calmly. “Full cooperation. Names, files, recorded conversations, testimony, and entrapment, if we request it. And of course, an ongoing commitment.”
“Commitment?” Wilson said, eyebrows raised.
“Commitment that he will in no way use his knowledge of manipulating capital markets in this country or elsewhere in the world at anytime in the future.”
Wilson eased back into the sofa, debating whether to probe further or simply agree to call Carter. “Are you more concerned about the cooperation or the abstinence?” Wilson asked.
This time Johns responded, “Any individual capable of such abuses could do it again, without anyone knowing.”
“The whole point of their ten-year gambit was to make sure this sort of abuse never happened again,” Wilson said with an unexpected flare of emotion.
“We only want assurances, Wilson. Sometimes people change when their circumstances change,” Kohl responded.
Wilson picked up the phone from the table and called Carter, who picked up on the first ring as if he’d been waiting by the phone. Wilson informed him of the FBI’s demands and their plan to deliver immunity guarantees by mid-morning to his office on campus.
“This is a little earlier than expected, but I’ll be ready for them,” Carter said calmly.
“Any concerns?” Wilson asked, surprised by Carter’s calm. Was this exactly what Carter expected me to do? Wilson reminded himself that Carter had been preparing for this moment for years.
“None,” Carter said.
“Anything else?” Wilson asked, sensing that Carter had something else he wanted to say.
“So what was it that finally convinced you that the government wouldn’t botch this?”
“Reading your eight volumes of history,” Wilson said without hesitation.
