Chapter 12: Pressure

Frank was careful not to hurt Floyd's feelings when he arrived at the office early on Monday morning, as he had done a few days before. Sometimes Frank got busy and forgot that it was easy to give a person the feeling he was getting the brush-off without intending to do so.

"Good morning, Floyd," Frank said, forcing out a little more enthusiasm than usual. "How are you doing this morning?"

Floyd looked up at Frank from his desk; his face brightened. "I'm doin' very well, Mr. Bennett. Thanks for askin'." He arose from his chair; they walked side-by-side down the hallway where Floyd unlocked Frank's office door. "Coffee this mornin'?"

"You had to ask?" Frank shot back with a grin. "I came in extra early so I could take my time with it before Jeannette comes in."

"Now you're pullin' my leg again," Floyd said, returning the grin. "One hot cup comin' up."

"Black, no sugar," Frank called after Floyd as he disappeared through the office door.

"How else?" Floyd called back over his shoulder.

Floyd returned shortly with two cups. Frank was already checking his e-mail. "Do you ever get anything important on that machine, sir?" Floyd asked.

"Yes, I do quite often, but not today. A lot of ads pile up over the weekend. Here's one for a seminar in Bermuda. Maybe I shouldn't delete that one." He glanced up at Floyd.

"Hah! I get it." Floyd gave himself a mock slap on the forehead. "Can't say as I blame you. You've had a lot of pressure lately."

"A little more than my fair share," Frank agreed.

"Miss Jeannette had me make out six security passes on Friday night. Who're they for?" Floyd asked.

"FBI agents," Frank answered. "They'll be here at about ten."

Floyd whistled. "FBI? What for?"

"They're going to investigate the manipulation of the Company Stock. They'll probably be here for a couple of days."

"Wow!" Floyd exclaimed. "Do you think they'll find anything?"

Frank shrugged. "I hope they do, but I wouldn't count on it. If someone was smart enough to cook up the scheme, they won't give it up just by chatting with the agents. The FBI will have to subpoena records."

"Do you think they'll want to ask me about my 'portfolio'?" Floyd asked and then broke out laughing.

"Yes, if they ask you," Frank replied, but he didn't laugh.

Floyd stopped laughing when he saw that Frank was serious. He thought for a second and started chuckling again. "Well it won't take 'em long."

"Take care of them, if you wouldn't mind, Floyd. Make sure that they have an office to work in and anything else they might need."

"Yes, sir," Floyd replied, and turned to leave.

"But," Frank quickly added, "they can buy their own coffee."

Frank was hoping that Alvin would fill him in after the Finance Committee meeting broke up the prior week. Alvin's aloofness irritated him because he knew that it was his job on the carving block during Committee's secret talks. Frank believed that the Chairman owed him an explanation; he refused to insist on one. He gave up on receiving what he thought he deserved, and that made him a little bitter. He told himself to put it aside for the time being. Alvin knew where to find him if he changed his mind.

As he was thinking about his situation he heard Jeannette arrive to begin the day. He quickly tossed away Floyd's empty coffee cup. In a few minutes she appeared at the door with a fresh cup.

"Good morning, Jeannette."

"Good morning," she answered in her low, sultry voice. "I have your coffee." That soothing voice was her trademark and hearing it was one of the bright spots of Frank's day.

Trudy had given him an earful about what happened at Gloria's party. Although Frank regretted what had been said, the thought of Jeannette and him in the ... oh well, it was only a fantasy.

Frank paused as she set the steaming cup in front of him on his desk. As she was about to turn to return to her desk he cleared his throat. "Jeannette, Trudy told me what happened at the party on Friday. I'm sorry."

Jeannette stood up straight and frowned. "Why are you apologizing for something you had nothing to do with?"

"Geez, I don't know, Jeannette. When I heard about it from Trudy, I just felt that I should. Now that you ask me like that, I can't answer."

"Is it because I'm a secretary and you're a boss," Jeannette asked, "and Mr. Smith's wife said what she did at Mr. Warner's house?"

"Something like that, I suppose," Frank answered.

"Why do you think you're responsible for what someone else did at someone else's house when you weren't even there? I hope you're not apologizing for Trudy."

Frank shook his head. "No, Jeanette. I hadn't thought about it that way before. I guess I'm just sorry that it happened to you. Just consider it one person to another."

"That sounds right to me," Jeannette replied. "Next time Mrs. Warner has a secretaries' party, maybe you can keep me overtime in the office even longer than you did on Friday."

Frank laughed. "Now you're talkin'. By the way, I'm expecting a call from Al Crossman this morning—very important."

"Mr. Crossman is in Reception. He's waiting to see you."

Jeannette followed Al Crossman into the office with another coffee and set it on the table in the alcove of Frank's office.

"Hi Al," Frank stood and greeted his guest. "I thought you legal beagles didn't start working until a lot later in the day."

"Don't worry about us lawyers; you're on the clock," he snickered. "These are special times, Frank..."

"Then, we better get down to business," Frank answered. He picked up his coffee cup and the two men walked to the chairs and coffee table at the side of the office and sat down.

"I came over to make sure you know how important these FBI interviews are," Crossman said.

"I can't imagine what they're going to find. They can have access to whatever..."

"You've got to make sure that everyone cooperates," Al interrupted. "The Special Agent in Charge is out on a big limb on this case. He jumped in at my request before the SEC had a chance to assign investigators. He'll be in big dutch if it looks like they're going through the motions."

"I get it," Frank replied. "I'll make sure they come to me if they hit any roadblocks. I'm not sure what there is to find. I do believe that it was some insider who tanked the stock. I'm afraid that if someone was smart enough to devise the whole thing, they sure aren't going to cave because someone asks them a few pointed questions."

"Don't underestimate these guys," Crossman said. "Anyway, let me assure you that back in Washington, Nadine Persky is having a royal fit over this. All she needs is a sliver of doubt and she'll use it as an excuse to get the FBI shoved off the case and take over."

"We don't want that," Frank confirmed.

"You can bet your ass on that. She'll run the investigation out of Washington and they'll be on you like white on rice—according to their timetable. You'll come to think you're working for them and they won't quit until they get your scalp, and a few others, under their belt. So let's give the FBI all the help we can."

"I'm with you," Frank said.

"So, tell me," Crossman asked, "do you have any suspicions of your own?"

"I've been too busy to get deeply into it," Frank said. "I have some ideas of people who might have some motive. At this moment, it's pure speculation. Of course, money is at the bottom of it. There were a lot of profits taken on this one."

"Alvin told me you have a disgruntled vice-president," Crossman said. "What about him?"

"I don't know who you mean."

"Yes you do—the R & D guy," Crossman clarified.

"Lowell?" Frank asked. "I don't think so.
It's true—he's having a hard time adjusting to corporate life. I don't think he has enough knowledge of the finance world to pull it off, and just between you and me—I don't think he's got the guts, either."

"Maybe so," Crossman replied, "but he's going to be a target for the time being. The FBI knows that he's been unhappy."

"Who told them that?"

"I did," was Crossman's forthright reply. "Alvin and I went over the profiles of all the top management. When we got to Lowell I knew he was the perfect guy to suggest to the investigators."

I don't get it," Frank said.

"Because he's the nervous type; he'll be defensive and evasive when they question him. He'll look even more suspicious. It'll keep the investigation active and fresh. We can't let it look like it's running out of gas."

"But, Al..." Frank started to answer.

"My theory is that he passed the information to someone at his former university who knew what to do with it. Then, they split the profits."

"Where did that theory come from?" Frank demanded.

"I just made it up a minute ago when you told me that Lowell wouldn't know how to pull it off." Frank shook his head and Crossman drew a deep breath. "Look, he'll be cleared in due course. In the meantime, it'll give the investigation the energy it needs. Lowell's scalp is a big enough prize to keep 'em interested. Besides, maybe I'm right."

"This is dirty business," Frank protested. "I'm not sure Jason can stand up to it. We could send him over the edge."

"Maybe so; the name of the game is survival. He'll have to stand up to it, somehow. In the meantime, I'll be at a hearing in District Court this afternoon to try for an injunction to get that 10-Q released. The SEC is sending someone down to oppose it. I expect to get it, but I also expect the SEC to ask for a stay and file an appeal."

"One way to find out," Frank said. "I'd like to get that paper on the street so we can get on with things."

"That's the idea," Crossman agreed. "Be patient. We'll just wear 'em down 'til they see it our way."

Special Agent Thad Henderson appeared in Frank's office, reminding him of a Marine Corps sergeant dressed in a civilian charcoal suit. He was about six-two. It was hard to tell the color of his hair because it was buzzed so close, and even though the crags on his face showed his fifty years, he looked ready to play split end for the Texans.

"Care for a coffee?" Frank asked.

"No thanks," was the terse reply.

"I think that Floyd set you up with an office down the hall. You and your people can work out of there. There's telephone and internet access. It was my office when I was Corporate Controller."

"I saw it. It will be fine," Henderson answered. "We won't be here long."

"I asked Larry Fletcher to come in to see you. He's our Chief of Security. I don't know what he can tell you. Also, the employee list is being prepared as we speak. I'll need a subpoena from you before I can turn it over."

"Already expected that," Henderson grunted. "One of my men is on his way to a judge's chambers right now."

"Jeannette is my secretary. She can help you arrange appointments and so forth if you would like her too. Feel free to ask her. She already expects you to call on her."

"Thanks," Henderson said. "One guy I want to talk to is named Lowell."

"His office is on this floor," Frank told him. "I can take you there right now."

"No, I've got to make a few calls first. Can you tell him about eleven?"

"I'll have Jeannette arrange it."

It's not easy to walk and stand at attention at the same time, but Henderson looked like he had been used to doing so for years. As he left, Frank thought of Jason and what Al Crossman said. A voice deep inside him told him to call and prep Jason. He had nearly decided to when Jeannette interrupted him.

"He's quite a stern-looking fellow," she said. "He seems to know what he's about."

"You probably could have used him at Gloria's party," Frank chuckled.

For what?" Jeannette was chuckling too. "To keep order amongst us rowdy females?"

"No, to keep Ashley busy. You know, idle mind—devil's workshop?"

"It may have been more like Ashley keeping him busy, from what I could see," Jeannette answered.

"Put away you claws, Jeannette," Frank said with a laugh. "They're a little too sharp for me."

Shortly after lunch Agent Henderson was standing in Frank's doorway. Frank wasn't surprised to see him. He expected him to bring the subpoena that would allow him to turn over the employee roster matched to social security numbers.

"Lowell stood me up," Henderson said in a voice that bore no expression.

"Are you sure?" Frank asked. "Could there have been a mix-up?"

"No mix-up," Henderson stated and a scowl washed over his face.

"There must have been," Frank insisted. "Jason must have gotten the time wrong." He picked up his phone and waited for Jason's secretary to answer. While he waited Frank had his private thoughts.

"What a little jerk! He's playing right into Crossman's hands. I should help him, but if he can't help himself, what am I supposed to do?"

Frank spoke to Jason's secretary and hung up the phone. "She said that Jason was unexpectedly called over to the research lab across town," he said to Henderson. "Not even a kindergartner would believe that fairy tale!" he thought to himself.

"I see," Henderson grunted.

"His secretary's trying to reach him at the lab," Frank went on. "How about a cup of coffee?"

"No thanks," Henderson replied.

"These R&D types," Frank chuckled, shaking his head. "You know—the Absent-Minded Professor, and all."