[Katerina Carter 01.0] Exit Strategy Page 2

  Susan brushed invisible lint from her wool skirt.

  “’Can’t’ is not in my vocabulary. I’m paying you top dollar. Do you want the case or not?”

  Susan turned and marched out of the office without waiting for Kat’s answer.

  3

  Kat slammed her notebook shut, furious at Susan for misleading her and not reporting the crime. No wonder Susan had hired her instead of one of the Big Four accounting firms. They wouldn’t risk their reputation with someone who blatantly disregarded securities laws. Did Susan really think she would put hers on the line?

  She shoved the papers into her briefcase. The Hermès bag was a frivolous purchase made before she was downsized last year, a reminder of better days before the financial crisis hit. She wondered what it would fetch on eBay just as her nail caught on the zipper and broke. As she scanned the desk for scissors to trim the ragged edge, she saw the photograph.

  A group of men and a woman stood in front of a Quonset hut. Patches of snow remained on the ground, the landscape around them barren except for a couple of dwarfed evergreens. The building’s faded sign read Liberty Diamond Mines–Mystic Lake.

  Kat studied the picture. She recognized Board Chair Nick Racine from Liberty Diamond Mines’s annual report. He was at the center of the picture, grinning and holding a blue ribbon in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. Gold lettering on the ribbon read Mystic Lake Re-Opening.

  Susan stood to his right, with Paul Bryant towering beside her, so close they were almost touching. Two heavyset men rounded out the picture. All were wearing jeans and Gore-Tex jackets. A light dusting of snow on their shoulders.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Kat lifted her gaze to see an overweight, balding man standing in the doorway. She glanced back at the photograph and set it back on the desk. Same man.

  “Mystic Lake. You’re in the picture.”

  “Alex Braithwaite—I’m a shareholder.”

  His words tumbled out in short, raspy breaths as he shuffled over and shook Kat’s hand. Then he collapsed into the chair opposite hers, his upper body overflowing onto the armrests.

  According to Liberty’s shareholder records, the Braithwaite Family Trust held about a third of Liberty’s stock. Coupled with Nick Racine’s shares, the other majority owner, they owned enough stock to control the company.

  As he picked up the picture, Kat noticed he bit his nails.

  “Ah, yes. Two new kimberlite pipes in a mine we were about to mothball. The growth’s just been phenomenal since then.” He sighed. “Now Bryant’s ruined everything.”

  He set the picture frame back on the desktop and leaned back in his chair.

  “Any leads yet?”

  “Nothing definite. So far I’ve traced the money to three numbered accounts in Bermuda and the Caymans. But piercing the veil of secrecy in tax havens is pretty tough.”

  Not that it mattered. She was quitting the case. She just needed to tell Susan.

  Braithwaite leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. “Be careful who you talk to around here. There are people who don’t want you to find the money.”

  “Like who?”

  “Who do you think?”

  Braithwaite raised his eyebrows as he studied her. Then he fastened the buttons on his rumpled suit jacket and stood up.

  “Now, I wouldn’t want to accuse anyone without proof. When you find out more, come see me.”

  Why was everyone around here so damn cryptic? Kat felt a twinge of irritation as her BlackBerry vibrated. She almost dropped it as she slipped it out of the holster to surreptitiously view the screen. Jace’s email contained just three words:

  We Got It!!

  Jace and Kat’s low-ball offer on a decrepit Victorian house on the city tax-sale list had been enough to win. They had bid on a whim, knowing the odds were low, even in a recession. People always managed to pay their property tax at the eleventh hour, especially if it meant losing their home. The economy must be even worse than she thought.

  Kat’s stomach dropped. Where would she find her share of the money? Her Liberty retainer was earmarked to cover her overdue office rent, where she was secretly living after giving up her apartment a month ago.

  Was.

  Now she’d even have to find another way to cover the rent.

  Buying a house with an ex-boyfriend wasn’t the strangest thing she’d ever done. Besides, they had become better friends in the last two years than they had ever been as a couple. And the house was just an investment, she reminded herself. It would only take a few months to fix it up and flip it for a profit. Somehow she’d find the money. She tapped out a reply.

  When’s the money due?

  Two p.m. tomorrow. I’ve got it covered.

  Impossible.

  She punched in Jace’s number, hoping it wasn’t too late. There was no way around it—she had to tell him she was flat out broke.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  “About the house, I can’t find the—”

  “You’re bailing on me, aren’t you?”

  “Jace, I really want to. I just can’t come up with the money.”

  “Kat. Don’t do this to me. Come over and we’ll talk about it.”

  “I can’t—I’m busy.” An hour from now she’d have all the time in the world.

  “You get a case?”

  “Sort of. But I’m about to quit.” She told Jace about Liberty, Susan, and Bryant.

  “Quit? That’s crazy. You always back out when things get tough.”

  She couldn’t really argue with that.

  “This is different—it’s unethical.”

  “Are you personally breaking any laws?”

  “No—but being associated with someone who is makes me just as guilty.”

  “What about lawyers who defend their clients? Even guilty people deserve a defense. Susan hired you to get back the money, right? You’re helping the shareholders. It’s not your fault she won’t report the crime.”

  Jace had a point. Kat hung up.

  She knew why Susan wouldn’t issue a press release, even if she didn’t agree with it. Overnight, the stock would become worthless, making the stock options held by Susan and Liberty management worthless too. Share price was the sole barometer of value to most C-Suite execs, including Susan.

  But was she getting the full story? Her gut told her the official version was about as likely as snow in June.

  4

  The sound of her cell phone ringing jolted Kat out of her reverie.

  “Kat, they gave me the keys. I’m at the house now. Coming over or not?”

  No one would call Jace a procrastinator. Like a hound on a scent, nothing stopped him when he had a goal. As a freelance journalist, it often meant the difference between the scoop and no story at all.

  Kat sucked in her breath. She might as well ask.

  “What was the final bid price?”

  “Eighty thousand. A bit of elbow grease and we’ll be able to flip this baby for five times that amount.”

  Kat’s shoulders slumped. It was a bargain all right, but where would she find forty thousand dollars?

  “Jace, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.” She couldn’t even scrounge up a fraction of that for the minimum payments on her credit cards.

  “Tell me in person. You’ve got to see this place. Remember that bed and breakfast on Salt Spring Island—the one with the bay windows? The master bedroom’s got the same window seat.”

  Their first weekend away. They’d barely left their room, venturing out only to eat. So much had changed in two years. Could she really flip a house with her ex-boyfriend?

  “There’s more. We didn’t just get the house. We got all the furniture in it too. Apparently the lady who owned it disappeared without a trace. No one’s cleaned it out since it was put up in the tax sale.”

  “Disappeared? Doesn’t she have any family?”

  No answer.

  “Jace? You there?”
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  “Oh!”

  “What is it?” Kat heard a crashing sound, then the phone dropping on the other end.

  “Jace? What’s that noise?”

  “There’s an—ouch! The stairs need work. At least the ones that are still whole.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just twisted my ankle. It’s hard to see with no electricity. When can you get here?”

  Kat checked her watch. After disabling Bryant’s ID and passwords, she had scanned all his computer files and every piece of paper in his office. In ten hours, she’d turned up nothing except the wire transfer documents in Bryant’s desk drawer. A change of scenery might clear her mind, and she could start fresh tomorrow.

  “I’ve got to stop at the office first. In a couple of hours?”

  Knowing Jace, he would already have a to-do list, prioritized with estimated times for each task, and she was anxious to see what was in store. Maybe she could make it work. If she solved the case quickly, she’d have at least some of the cash to pay Jace. How hard could it be to trace the wire transfers?

  Kat grabbed her purse and briefcase and headed to the reception area, where a giant rock slab with a vein of diamonds dominated the room. As she passed it, she heard the voices in the corner office rise. Missing money had a way of doing that.

  Kat tiptoed down the hallway towards Susan’s office. She tottered on her four-inch heels, trying to avoid a misstep and possible discovery.

  “Are you serious?” Susan said. “The police already have a long list of frauds they’re working on. We need someone totally focused on Liberty to get back the money. Do you think the police would have Liberty as their number-one priority?”

  Still, to not even report it?

  “At least they have some muscle. What’s Katerina going to do if she finds the money? She’s powerless to get it back.”

  Who was the male voice? Kat didn’t recognize him, though he obviously knew her.

  “Maybe. But once she’s done the legwork, we can call in the authorities. It cuts the timeline down and bypasses all that jurisdictional red tape. The more time passes, the less likely we are to get the money back.”

  “C’mon, Susan, let’s be serious here. Carter & Associates is nothing more than a two-bit operation.”

  Whoever he was, Kat hated him already. And Susan’s expectations were completely unrealistic. But if she were about to be fired, she’d rather quit first.

  “We’re wasting time. She can’t deal with something this complex. Why didn’t you go with one of the big firms? They’ve got a helluva a lot more bench strength than she does. This is international, damn it. Katerina’s just local. The big firms have got people all over the world to follow the money trail.”

  Kat edged closer, straining her ears.

  “She comes highly recommended, Nick. As long as I’m CEO, I’m not going to sit here and wait for something to happen. I make things happen! When you hired me, you said I would be running the show without board interference, and now you’re second-guessing me. You’ve got to give me free rein on this one. I know what I’m doing.”

  Kat craned her neck. Now she could see. Nick Racine, Liberty’s Board Chair, was framed in the doorway, his back facing Kat. Both his arms were pressed against the doorframe, like a small animal trying to appear larger for effect. No doubt Nick had a touch of small-man syndrome. Regardless of the amount of power he wielded as chairman and son of the legendary Morley Racine, co-founder of Liberty, he couldn’t escape the fact that he was barely five and a half feet tall. His suits were likely custom tailored out of necessity, rather than any sense of extravagance. She was within ten feet of the door now. There would be no turning back if she was discovered.

  “That was before five billion dollars vanished into thin air. It happened on your watch, Susan. Of course I’m concerned. You allowed it to bloody well happen in the first place!” Nick’s voice rose as he pounded his fist against the wall.

  Suddenly there was a cough behind her. She’d been discovered! Kat jumped and nearly toppled off her heels.

  Opposite her across the hallway was the janitor, eyeing her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as she struggled to stay vertical in a bizarre rendition of a one-legged warrior yoga pose. Kat focused straight ahead, ignoring him and praying he wouldn’t say anything to attract the attention of Nick, who still stood in the doorway. She just needed to hear what they were saying about her. She regained her balance and scanned the hall for the janitor, but he was nowhere to be seen. She hurriedly fidgeted for her cell phone. She could pretend to have stopped to take a call if she was spotted.

  Kat peered into the office and saw Susan standing at the window. Her back was to Nick, arms crossed in front of her, her slim frame outlined by the blackness outside the twenty-second floor window.

  Susan turned and faced Nick. Her voice rose and took on a tone of desperation Kat hadn’t heard before.

  “Look, Nick, I promise you we will get the money back. Just give me some breathing room and a little—”

  “No more of your goddamn promises, Susan! I want results by this time next Friday. If the money’s not found, you’re out of here!”

  Kat couldn’t help but gasp. Susan’s thirty-day deadline was challenging enough. Finding Bryant and the money within a week without current leads was next to impossible, even if she worked twenty-four-seven.

  Nick abruptly turned and marched out of the office, his face flushed with anger. Kat lunged across the hallway to the receptionist’s desk and opened a file, pretending to peruse its contents with deep concentration as she swayed on her heels, almost spraining an ankle.

  Kat steadied and willed herself to breathe without panting. She stole a glance at Nick. He flashed back a glare of open contempt as he stormed towards the elevator. Some things were better left unsaid. Note to self: Find the money, and find it fast!

  5

  Kat finally made it to the office at six. She rested her eyes for a moment on the small gold nameplate that read Carter & Associates in scuffed black lettering.

  In reality she was associate-less, unless you counted Harry Denton, who manned the office on a pro bono basis. Uncle Harry always drummed up excuses to come by, so Kat decided she might as well make it official to keep an eye on him. Well, semi-official.

  She took a deep breath and swung open the door.

  “Kat—where the heck have you been all day? You sleep in or something?”

  Harry’s gravelly voice rose from somewhere underneath the reception desk. She peered over the top and spied a pair of stout legs in coveralls protruding from under the desk.

  “I got a new case. What are you doing?”

  Harry rolled out from under the desk, his bald head covered in sheen of sweat. He pulled a hanky out of his shirt pocket and wiped his forehead.

  “Checking the electrical outlet. The computer’s on the fritz.”

  “Why don’t I call the building super instead?”

  Spare time was an invitation for disaster for Uncle Harry, who often acted first and thought later. Although not on the payroll, he considered himself part-time office manager, maintenance expert, and general gopher. His hours were flexible, sandwiched between curling, lawn bowling, bridge club, and gardening commitments.

  “I suppose,” Harry said as he pulled himself up. “Another divorce case?”

  “No. Bigger.” Kat changed the subject. The less Harry knew, the better. “How’s everything else here? Besides the computer?”

  “Pretty hectic, Kat. I’m managing to hold down the fort, though.”

  “The phone’s ringing off the hook?”

  “Well, not busy that way. But, I’ve got to redo all that filing. You’ve got no system, Kat. I can’t find anything here.” Harry waved his arms in the general direction of the gunmetal filing cabinets, leftovers from the previous tenant, a dental office. “And the sink’s backed up. It’s a good thing the phone’s not ringing. There’s already too much going on.”

  Kat
sighed. The last thing she needed was messed-up files. Harry’s systems were never mainstream.

  “Oh, and that guy called again. He sure is anxious to see you, and he sounds nice. Maybe you should just go out with him.”

  Why were the wrong men always chasing her? Her so-called suitor was from a collection agency that threatened to expose her dirty little secret if she didn’t pay up. It would be a major disaster if her maxed-out credit cards were suspended.

  “Fine. I’ll call him tomorrow.” If only Uncle Harry knew the truth. Forensic accountants who couldn’t manage their own money weren’t likely to attract new clients. Her Bingo-gate case ended a month ago, and Kat was about to turn out the lights when Susan Sullivan’s call came. Her bank account was empty, and sadly, so was her fridge. Carter & Associates was flat broke, the irony of which did not escape Kat.

  “You’d better do it soon, Kat. This guy’s not going to chase you forever.”

  If only that were true.

  Harry was right about one thing—she should just face her debt crisis and put it behind her. It was the advice she gave her clients. But that meant acknowledging she was a failure, something she wasn’t ready to do just yet.

  She could probably keep the bloodhound bill collectors at bay another week. She’d solve the Liberty case quickly, get paid, and get back in the black again.

  “You’re not getting any younger either. You got a guy interested in you, and you give him the cold shoulder.”

  “Okay.” Thirty-something and Uncle Harry still made her feel like a kid.

  “Kat, why are Buddy and Tina here at the office?”

  She’d been able to explain away her sofa and other furniture, but inventing reasons for a Siamese and a tabby was a bit harder.

  “I’ve been spending so much time at the office, and they were getting lonely at home. It’s like a little vacation for them.”

  That seemed to satisfy Uncle Harry.

  “Would you mind topping up their food? It’s in the kitchen.”