CHAPTER 9
DAVIS’S EXECUTIVE DREAM TEAM, ALONG with several high-powered lawyers, had been assembled in his conference room. They sat around the table finalizing their strategy for dealing with the US Attorney General’s office. After months of cooperation and trying to resolve their inquiries, Chatham Industries was officially under investigation for trading and arms dealing with the known terrorist group, The Liberation of Shebet.
Frustrated, Davis pushed away from the table and got up. He rubbed the back of his neck as he started to pace back and forth. “This is ridiculous. I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. How much more proof do they need to know that Chatham Industries is a victim in all of this too?”
One of his lawyers, Braylee Hinsdale-Manchetti, spoke up. “We understand how you feel, Davis, we really do, but you’ve got to calm down and trust us. Five years ago, when your personal assistant got involved with that organization, it left you vulnerable.”
His eyes blazed. “I understand that. But the fact that they tried to kill my wife, and we helped to bring down one of their cells should make me a patriot, not a goddamned traitor!”
Davis was justified in his anger, but Braylee tried to remain calm enough for the both of them. Still, it was part of her job to lay out the facts. “True, but several offshore accounts worth billions have been tied to your company and the Liberation. The FBI wants to know who put the money there and why.”
“I’ve answered those questions already. I can’t give them information I don’t have.” Davis turned his back on his team, folded his arms across his chest, and stared out of the window. “I didn’t even know those accounts existed until the FBI contacted me about them seven months ago. There aren’t any records of me making personal withdrawals or deposits into those accounts.”
Braylee tapped her pen on the mahogany table. “You’re correct. However, your PA made the transfers of money from servers in your office building. In the eyes of the law, your name is on the building. So, if you weren’t aware, you should have been. Because there isn’t a direct link to you personally, that is the only reason they haven’t frozen your assets . . . yet.”
“Are we any closer to finding out anything more about the cash?”
Another attorney, JP Rickets, whose area of expertise this fell under, responded. “We are getting close. There were many shell accounts and international banks used in this operation to move that sum of money around. We’ll find the origin and clear your name.”
Davis turned to face everyone. “Can anybody in this room tell me why the hell I was targeted in the first place? Initially, I thought it was for my technology, but, obviously, there is a lot more going on here that I’m not aware of.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it—all of it.” Braylee had never been more confident. It would take a little time to unravel all the moving parts, but her team would do it.
Davis’s Chief Operating Office, Paul Williams, had been holding back but needed to inform every one of the newest developments. “I received a call from one of the members of the board. Davis, they are strongly suggesting, until these issues are resolved, that you step aside. They are afraid if the shareholders find out, it’ll make the stock plummet.”
Davis couldn’t keep his anger from spilling over. He roared. “I built this company with nothing but a hundred dollars and my intellect. I bought a domain name and used my sweat and blood to build Chatham Industries to where it is today. The day I step aside, is the day I close the doors forever.”
Paul was uneasy. Not only was part of his compensation package tied to the Chatham Industries stock, but he also had a significant portion of his own money invested in the company’s stock too. “If word gets out about all of this, we may have no choice but to close the doors, and some of us might spend quite a bit of time in prison. Can you honestly say you are thinking of the good of the company?”
Davis walked back over and placed both hands on the table. He leaned in to make sure Paul and everyone else understood his position. “I’m the majority shareholder. So, let me be very clear, it’s not the company, it’s my damn company. Whoever suggested that bullshit, tell them to go fuck themselves. And if they want to walk, I’m fully prepared to buy back their shares to my company.”
Braylee looked on between the two. Men and their pissing contests. It was old and tired. If this room had been full of women, the entire case would probably be wrapped up by now. At any rate, she thought the display was a fascinating showdown between Paul and Davis—if someone wanted to classify it as that. Something occurred to her, and she made a note on her pad. “Okay, gentlemen, let’s hope it doesn’t get that far. If everyone does their jobs, we should be able to get to the bottom of this situation. If there is nothing else . . .” She stood and smoothed down her white pencil skirt and started to put on the matching jacket. “There are a couple of things my office needs to follow up on.”
The meeting broke up, and everyone gathered their things. Braylee hung back until everyone else had left, and she was alone with Davis. “There are a few more items I wanted to discuss with you, and I didn’t think you would want an audience.”
Davis grunted. “You think I should step aside too?”
“No. But I do think you should hire a PR firm.” She reached into her portfolio and pulled out a card and handed it to him. “In the past, you’ve dealt with JKS. They are good, but this requires a certain type of expertise. The people who work for Masterson and Holloway are the best.”
“You really think it’ll come to this?”
“When the FBI is involved, yes. They are going to dig so far into your past they’ll know the name of the woman who took your virginity. We are also living in a heightened political environment. If you’ve donated more money to one political party than the other, they might want to use you as an example. That brings me to my second point, have you talked to your family?”
Davis shook his head no. “I never thought things would get this far.”
Braylee placed a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled confidently. “Do it. They can be a great source of support. You and your family will get through this. Oh . . . and remember, you have one weapon that the government doesn’t.”
Davis lifted a brow. “What’s that . . . the truth?”
“The truth is a relative term. You have me, Braylee Hinsdale-Manchetti, attorney extraordinaire.” She was kidding but not really. “That’s why you hired me. I’ll do the heavy lifting, so you don’t have to. I just need you to be on top of things, and that includes preparing your family for the possible onslaught of negative press.”
“My wife’s recovering from an accident. It’s not a good time to lay all of this on her.”
Braylee closed her portfolio. “That’s right. How is she doing?”
“Getting better with every day, but not a hundred percent.”
“That was a nasty fall. But she’s resilient. African women used to have babies and go work in the fields the very next day. Like me, Nicole comes from an ancestral history of struggle. She’s tough. It’s in her DNA.” Davis agreed. Nicole was a fighter, but she had already been through too much. He wanted to pamper her, not make things more difficult.
Braylee could see her words weren’t registering. “Davis, all I’m trying to say is it’s never a good time, but women have a high threshold to deal with bullshit when it comes to those they love. Talking to her might take some of the pressure off you. Just a thought. Anyway, I should get going. I’ll call you if anything significant comes up.” Braylee grabbed her purse and placed her portfolio underneath her arm, then walked out of the conference room.
Davis stared into space, thinking. He knew Nicole was strong, but, for now, he’d give her just a little more time to get better before telling her about this situation.
He checked his watch. It was already after 7 p. m. When he left their bed this morning, she had been sleeping. They talked over the phone a couple of times throughout the day, but she was still angry from the night before. He could really use a little of that closeness they used to share almost like the air he breathed. Unfortunately, Davis had missed dinner again. That definitely wasn’t going to endear him to her.
As a matter of fact, she was going to be pissed—again.