“Drop the bullshit. You’ve got millions tied up in the stock market; you’re just covering your ass.”
“On the contrary. Unlike most, I choose not to keep all my eggs in one basket. Sure, I might take a hit, but the impact will be minimal, I assure you. What concerns me is the effect this is all going to have on people like you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look, these analysts you’ve called in to help – what do you think they’re going to do once they authenticate the source? They’ll run on home to their bosses and spill their guts. The banks will dump their stock and tie up their capital somewhere else, meaning the people who invested with them stand to lose a fortune.”
“So what? I don’t invest in the stock market.”
“No, but you can bet your ass the banks that control your savings and pension do,” said Leopold. “Once they’ve been cleaned out, what do you think happens to your money? It goes right back into the pockets of the guys that screwed you over in the first place.”
Mary frowned. “My money is safe. Not that there’s much of it, but it’s safe.”
“It’s happened before,” Leopold continued. “In 1901 and again in 1929. You ever heard of The Great Depression? What about 1937, 1987, and 1989? Then again and again, every few years. And that’s just in this country. Each and every time, regular people were hit the hardest – they lost everything. This time it’s no different, except now we have a chance to warn people. Give them the ability to prepare for the inevitable, maybe make their lives a little easier. It’s not going to be pretty, but it’s a damn sight better than letting the banks have their way.”
“What were you planning on doing, Leopold?”
He sat back. “If the media got hold of this information, we’re all on equal footing. No special treatment for the banks. People can make arrangements, hopefully mitigate the impact. Maybe even keep their homes, keep their jobs.”
“And the banks?”
“They’re doomed anyway. The smart ones will bounce back, the others… well, suffice to say, there’s very little they can do about it now. Giving them access to Teddy’s work is only going to allow them to pad their directors’ wallets before the doors shut for good. You really think they deserve to be treated better than everyone else?”
“What I think doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does, Mary. You’re a cop – it’s your job to protect the people. That means not letting the bad guys win if you can stop them. That’s what’s happening here. Are you telling me you can’t see it?”
Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“When the dust settles, the SEC is going to figure out what happened. But by the time they get enough evidence together, most of these bastards will be out of their reach. If we act now, we can at least guarantee some kind of justice.”
“But the mayor…”
“Nobody will know the source of the leak, I guarantee it. None of this will be traced back to you. Melissa Gordon will spend the rest of her life in jail for her part in this – but it’s time to cast the net wider. This is your chance to do the right thing.”
“I don’t know what the right thing is any more,” said Mary.
“You do. You know it in your gut. These people we’re talking about – they stand to make a fortune out of ruining the lives of millions. Are you going to sit back and let that happen?”
“You know, for someone with such loose morals, you’re actually not completely rotten inside,” Mary said, getting up.
“Thanks. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since we met.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“The mayor is expecting the micro drive with Teddy Gordon’s files by three a.m. So long as it arrives on time, I don’t think there’s anything I need to worry about.”
Leopold smiled. “I’ve got a feeling that won’t be a problem.”
“And if the media does get hold of the story, and it leaks on the national news, there really isn’t anything I can do about it, is there?”
“Good,” said Leopold. “Because I already sent the email.”
Mary opened her mouth to say something but the words never came out. She shook her head.
“What?”
“You know, I was wrong about you,” she said, heading for the door. “I take it all back. You really are a total asshole.”
“Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment.” He got to his feet. “It was a pleasure working with you, Detective Jordan.”
“Let’s not make a habit out of it.”
He took a step toward the doorway. “I had a brief chat with Captain Oakes. He agrees we make a good team. I suggested we might make use of our respective talents again in the future.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” he held up his hands. “I merely suggested that the Blake Foundation is looking for some charitable causes to support. And I pointed out that the NYPD annual fundraiser is just around the corner.”
Mary clenched her teeth. “Get to the point.”
“Let’s just say, I’ve enjoyed our time together and I’m looking forward to our next case.” He smiled. “Hey, maybe they’ll get me a desk near yours.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Is that any way to talk to your new partner?”
“Go to hell, Blake.” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Her footsteps echoed through the corridors of the penthouse. He heard the front door slam shut. A few seconds later, Jerome appeared. He peeked his head through.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
Leopold pulled down a bottle of whiskey and a crystal tumbler from the bookcase and settled back into his armchair. He looked up at Jerome and poured himself a drink.
“Better than I thought,” he said.
Later That Morning
Martin Parks always came in early. As a senior analyst at Needham Brothers, one of the top New York boutique investment firms, he was expected to put in a good deal of face time with the junior staff – and that meant beating them to the coffee machine. But today had been a little different. Instead of rising at six a.m. and getting into the office at seven, Martin had awoken to the sound of his cell phone going off at a little after four thirty.
Apparently, it was all hands on deck.
Forty minutes later, Martin had showered, dressed, and caught a cab to the office. Now, just as the first hints of dawn were visible over the horizon, the senior vice president of trading was gathering his people and preparing to give a speech. That was never a good sign.
Straightening his tie, Martin made his way toward the mass of people, keeping his ears open for any snippets of conversation that might explain what was going on. As he passed by his boss’ office door, he felt someone grab hold of his arm.
“Parks, get the hell in here.” Ryan Gibbs, Martin’s immediate superior, pulled him inside the room.
“Jesus, Gibbs. What’s going on? This a fire drill or what?”
His boss’ office was a mess of paperwork – client files stacked knee-high all over the floor, the desk a clutter of stationery and disposable coffee cups. The blinds were pulled shut over the plate glass windows, shutting out the glare of the city lights.“The whole floor’s being let go,” said Gibbs, collapsing into his ergonomic chair. “We’re screwed. This is it.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Is this something to do with Creed and whatever the hell he and Gordon were mixed up in?”
Gibbs fished a pack of cigarettes out of his desk drawer. He studied the pack carefully but didn’t open it. “I’m talking about the end of the world as we know it,” he smiled, a slightly manic expression on his face. “The shit’s about to hit the fan, and guess where we’re standing.”
“Speak English, Ryan. What’s going on?”