59
Marshall Brennan was working at his computer when his secretary buzzed. “Dink is here to see you. Do you want me to reschedule him? I know you’re busy.”
“No, send him in.” Marshall turned away from his computer and rose to meet his son. “Hello, Dink.” They shook hands.
“Good morning, Dad,” Dink said. He was dressed in a tweed jacket, khakis, and a necktie. “I got your message, and here I am.”
“Thanks for coming,” Marshall said. He leafed through some papers on his desk and came up with a copy of Dink’s brokerage account. “The computer flagged your account yesterday because of a large cash withdrawal, wired to your checking account. Mind telling me why you suddenly need half a million dollars?”
“Oh, this and that,” Dink said, looking evasive. “I’m looking at apartments downtown.”
“Find something you like?”
“Not yet, but…” Dink’s voice trailed off, and he began to look irritated. “Mind telling me why you’ve flagged my account for withdrawals?”
“Just about every client’s account is flagged for withdrawals over a predetermined amount,” Marshall said. “It’s a security precaution, designed to thwart someone who might have gained unauthorized access to an account.”
“So I’m just like everyone else here?”
“As an account, yes. I just wanted to know if you made the withdrawal, and if so, why?”
“I think I just explained that,” Dink said.
“I think you just avoided explaining it,” Marshall replied. “Try again.”
“I’m of age, Dad, and I don’t have to explain things to you anymore.”
“You do if you want my investment skills to remain at your disposal.”
“What is it that so annoys you about my withdrawing half a million dollars?”
“It occurs to me that a sum that size might just be for a big drug buy.” Marshall watched as beads of sweat appeared on his son’s forehead.
“Nothing like that,” Dink said.
Marshall swung back to his computer and brought up a new screen. “And I see that as soon as the funds were received in your checking account, they were wired to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. Mind explaining that?”
“I just happen to be doing business with someone who has an offshore account.”
“Well, you’d better be ready to explain that to the Internal Revenue Service, because you’ve flagged more than your account with me, you’ve flagged an automatic disclosure from your bank to the IRS about the transfer. That pretty much guarantees you an audit.”
“An audit?” Dink asked weakly.
“Welcome to adulthood, son. It’s a place where you are held responsible for your actions.”
“Even private financial transactions?”
“ Especially private financial transactions. Tell me, do you have an offshore bank account?”
“Well, ah…”
“I was afraid of that,” Marshall said, rubbing his forehead. “You should have discussed all this with me before proceeding.”
“You’d have just told me not to do it,” Dink said.
“And in so doing, saved you tens of thousands of dollars in accounting bills. Who is your accountant?”
“I, ah, don’t have one yet,” Dink admitted.
“Would you like me to recommend one?”
“No, Dad.”
“Then you should ask your private banker to recommend a good firm and schedule a meeting with them immediately. If they take swift action, they might be able to head off this thing at the pass, before you have IRS agents knocking on your door.”
“It doesn’t seem like all that big a problem. Anyway, how could an accountant help?”
“An accountant, having dealt with the IRS for his whole career, will know to call someone there quickly and explain that he has a young and inexperienced person for a client, and that he has done something foolish, but wants to clean up his mess.”
“Oh. And that can happen?”
“Possibly. What won’t happen is to get your name off a watch list for every sort of transaction you can dream of. You will now be known personally and permanently to agents of the Internal Revenue Service whose only task in life is to catch American citizens avoiding taxes by money laundering and hiding funds in offshore accounts. Even Swiss banks are now cooperating, in an attempt to save themselves millions of dollars in fines and accounting fees, and they are happy to throw a client overboard if that’s what they have to do to please the IRS.”
“I had no idea,” Dink said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief and loosening his tie.
“By the simple act of turning twenty-one and gaining access to your trust, you have entered a whole new world, son, one with a complex set of rules and regulations that govern the way you will earn, spend, and pay taxes. You had better accustom yourself to playing by those rules, and an accountant, along with your private banker, can help you understand how to do that.”
“I see.”
“Moreover, any profit on the sale of the securities that was necessary to raise your half-million-dollar withdrawal will be subject to ordinary income tax at the full rate, whereas if you had sold something you’d owned for more than a year, you’d have paid the much lower capital gains tax, so you cost yourself some more money there.”
Dink was sweating profusely now.
“Something else, Dink. If that money ended up in a drug dealer’s account in the offshore bank, it is very likely that either the IRS or the FBI, perhaps both, has an informant in that bank who will, you should excuse the expression, rat you out. So there is another federal agency you’ll be scrutinized by in the coming weeks and months. I strongly suggest that, in addition to an accountant, you call Herb Fisher and ask him to recommend a criminal lawyer.”
“Dad, let me explain all this.”
“Dink, it’s very important that you not explain it to me, because communication between us is not subject to any kind of privilege, and I could be forced to testify against you before a grand jury or in a court of law. You can explain it to your criminal lawyer, with whom such communication is privileged. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“No, sir,” Dink said, rising. “I’ll go see Herb Fisher right now.”
Marshall watched his son leave and tried not to weep.
60
The evening of Mark Hayes’s party at High Cotton Ideas arrived, and Herbie hired a driver and picked up Marshall Brennan on his way there.
“No date tonight, Herb?” Marshall asked.
“You’re my date tonight, Marshall. How are you?”
Marshall sighed. “I’m afraid Dink may have gotten himself into some new trouble. Did he call you?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him since he stopped by my office for a drink last week.”
“I was afraid of that. He’s going to need a criminal lawyer.”
“What has he done?”
Marshall explained about Dink’s half-million-dollar error in judgment.
