Page 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

M ae added a small pitcher of real cream to the coffee service on the large silver tray. At board meetings, Ryan always insisted she serve the coffee as if she were some maid in a British mansion. This one should be rather contentious, with the question that reporter had lobbed at the siblings earlier that day. A smirk threatened to break out across her face at the memory of the shock on Ryan’s face and the flashes of guilt on Yasmine and Gene’s. But she couldn’t afford to be seen as anything but the loyal assistant, so she tamped down her inner joy at the turmoil. She checked that the tray had two steaming pots of coffee, sugar and other artificial sweeteners, and cream, then lifted it and marched to the large, opulent conference room.

But the door wasn’t left ajar as it usually was for her to easily push it open and bring in the coffee. Mae glanced around, but no one lingered in the corridor. With no readily available surface on which to lay the tray so she could twist the door handle, she was stuck. Ryan hadn’t told her not to bring the usual coffee, but the firmly shut door suggested otherwise.

With a huff, she set the tray on the carpet, opened the door a fraction, then hefted the tray. She wobbled a bit with the heavy lift but held the tray steady. Now she could push her way inside like usual.

She did so and discovered an empty room. A look at the large antique sundial remade into a clock on the wall indicated the meeting should have started fifteen minutes ago, and Ryan always wanted coffee served during the recap of old business so she could take notes during the new business portion.

She moved to the side table and set down the tray. The board members had arrived, and they had entered this room—their folders still rested on the table—but where had they gone? Mae checked her phone but no texts from Ryan indicating a change in plans.

Then it hit her. They had gone to see Vie in action, Ryan’s attempt to stave off a hostile takeover. Of course, she wasn’t supposed to know about that, so she’d wait here and hope she wouldn’t have to reheat the coffee.

Twenty minutes later, voices drifted down the hall to the conference room. Mae stood to check the insulated pots by removing the lids. Wisps of steam rose from each pot, indicating the liquid was still hot enough. She pasted a welcoming smile on her face as the first board members came into the room.

“Good morning. Would you like coffee?” As they settled into their chairs, she greeted them and poured decaf and regular coffee using cups and saucers already on the credenza. Ryan, Yasmine, and Gene entered last, and all but Yasmine declined coffee. Her hostess duties done, Mae retrieved a steno pad and pencil from a stash in one of the credenza drawers and slipped into her usual corner chair.

Ryan opened the meeting with old business, which took only a few minutes to review, then launched into the new business. “As you know, Maxwell Technology is launching another bid for a hostile takeover of Topher Robotics.”

“Will you show the shareholders the video of this morning’s demonstration before the vote?” Chester Cane called out. “That would spike their move.”

“Or it could make them even more determined to carve up this company,” Brooke Williams replied.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Phillip Lane interjected. “I, for one, am getting tired of promises of great things to come that never materialize. Your father was a visionary, but even he overpromised and under-delivered. I think it’s time to let go.”

Ryan slammed his fist down on the table. “I will not allow the company my father built from nothing be destroyed in this manner.”

Mae’s pencil made barely a sound as she recorded the discordant conversation.

“We’re hemorrhaging money, and now I think we can see where it’s all been going,” Greyson Reed said. “The accounts are a mess. This never would have happened under Jay Ainsley.”

“Need I remind you that Jay stole millions from us?” Ryan stood, his hands on his hips as he glared at each member.

His posture reminded Mae of a warrior trying to rally his troops, only Ryan lacked the gravitas to succeed.

“Did he?” Elwin Carl, one of two original board members, lobbed the question into the sudden quiet. “Seems to me that was never proven.”

Gene jumped in for the first time. “We found an offshore account in his name with a couple million dollars in it. How is that not a smoking gun of his guilt?”

“But according to our internal audit conducted after his death, more than twenty-two million dollars had gone missing.” Elwin let that sink in, then asked, “Where was the rest of it?”

“He must have hidden it somewhere—he was an accountant. Obviously he knew how to move and hide money,” Ryan snapped.

Mae recorded the conversation as the debate continued for several minutes, then Yasmine set down her coffee cup with a loud clink.

“This is all very productive, but we need to vote on what the board will recommend to the shareholders during tonight’s emergency meeting.” She smiled her innocent, I’m-just-a-girl-so-what-do-I-know smile. “My father looked at the evidence and decided Jay was indeed guilty of taking the money, and rather than subject our employees to the fuss of an internal audit to discover the how and where of the deed, put it behind us so we could concentrate on doing what we do best—developing new ways robotics can assist in making people’s lives better.”

Not surprising to Mae, Yasmine’s words derailed the embezzlement talk and refocused the group on the vote. Soon members were registering their yays and nays related to Maxwell Technology’s proposed takeover bid.

“Mae, what’s the official tally?” Ryan’s request was a formality, as everyone had been keeping track.

She cleared her throat and stood, as she always had when delivering the results of a board vote. “Of the fourteen members present at this board meeting, eight voted against the bid and six voted in favor. Therefore the board will recommend shareholders not accept Maxwell Technology’s offer.”

Ryan allowed himself a small smile, but Mae wasn’t sure he could claim victory yet, if the expression on Gene’s face was any indication. The middle sibling pursed his lips as if sucking on a lemon, but the determined look in his eyes told of more trouble to come.

“This concludes our meeting for today. See everyone tonight.” Ryan shook hands with several of the other members who voted against the takeover.

Chatter filled the room as Mae put down her steno pad and began gathering cups and saucers. Some members left immediately, as did Yasmine and Gene. Ten minutes later, she returned to her desk to catch up on emails. Her desk phone rang.

“Ryan Topher’s office.”

“May I speak with Mae Stanhope, please?”

The unfamiliar feminine voice had a pleasant, conversational undertone.

“Speaking?”

“Ms. Stanhope, my name is Agent Leslie Updike with FinCEN. Are you familiar with our agency?”

Mae gripped the receiver tighter as her palms began to sweat. She tried to think why someone from the financial crimes agency would be calling her but decided it was probably related to the takeover bid. “Yes, of course. How can I help you, Agent Updike?” Good, her voice sounded steady and friendly.

“Would you be able to come to our office in Vienna for a chat?”

“What’s this about?” Mae wanted to come across as confused but her tone held a strident note.

“I’d rather not say on the phone. We’ll expect you in an hour. Here’s the address.” The agent rattled off the address, which Mae dutifully wrote down, then repeated out loud at the agent’s request.

“Oh, and Ms. Stanhope, please don’t mention this meeting to anyone.” The agent said goodbye before Mae could agree.

She replaced the receiver, then glanced at the computer clock. 12:40. Since Ryan took lunch at noon, she usually went at one, but today, he had been holed up in his office since returning from the board meeting. She composed an email saying she had an appointment, then left. Walking to her car, she tried in vain to stay calm, but the feeling of birds coming home to roost wouldn’t leave her. Her day of reckoning had arrived but at least she had a rather large bargaining chip to trade.

* * *

Seth munched on a chicken sandwich, wishing he were eating with Jetta and not alone in his car. After helping Emily into Jetta’s vehicle, he’d said goodbye and watched them drive away. Each time he parted from Jetta was hard, as he couldn’t help but think it might have been the last time he would be with her. He bowed his head, allowing a wordless prayer to flow from him to God, the only thing he could do in the circumstance. Respecting Jetta’s boundaries meant not pushing for his own agenda, which translated in waiting. His phone buzzed, drawing his attention outward.

“Hello?”

“Seth?” The female voice sounded slightly familiar to him, but he couldn’t immediately place it.

“Speaking.” He rewrapped the remainder of his sandwich, his appetite waning as it did whenever he pictured a future without Jetta.

“It’s Leslie Updike. I have an update on the case you asked about.”

“You do?”

“Mr. Warner sent over documents that showed someone at Topher Robotics had been stealing money for years—and it wasn’t Jay Ainsley.”

“Wait, he had documents?” Seth thought Warner had been upfront when he and Jetta had visited about what papers he had in his possession, but the man hadn’t mentioned additional documents beyond the invoices.

“Copies, not originals. But enough to show someone else was responsible for some of the embezzlement.”

Although reeling from this knowledge, Seth latched onto the modifier Leslie had used. “Some, but not all?”

“That’s correct. This person appears to have stolen roughly a quarter of a million dollars from the papers Mr. Warner sent.”

“Is this person still an employee at Topher Robotics?”

“That’s all I can give you at this time.” She sighed. “To be frank, I almost pushed this to the back burner, but my boss reminded me that Topher Robotics is in a fight to fend off a takeover bid from Maxwell Technology, so this became top priority.”

“Will you keep searching for what happened to the rest of the money? There’s still millions of dollars unaccounted for if this person only took $250,000.”

“This is the beginning of what will likely be a long process.”

“I appreciate the heads up.” He decided to share about the invoices. “Leslie, Mr. Warner did pass along invoices he thought might be dodgy for Jetta and I to investigate. We did and found almost all of them were legit except for one from SafeSense. The person I talked to claimed Topher Robotics brought the faulty invoices to their attention and that they’d fired the person responsible, a long-time employee named Dolores Green.”

“Mr. Warner’s email said something about that, but since we had clear evidence in what he did pass along, we haven’t investigated the invoices yet. Anything else you found out?”

“We went to see Ms. Green, and she vehemently denied altering any invoices, claimed her finances were an open book.”

“Dolores Green,” Leslie said. “I’ll put her on my list of people to talk to.”

Seth hesitated, his mind flashing back to the shots fired, his fear for Jetta and her unborn baby driving him to throw himself over her body as he brought them to the ground. He suppressed a shudder, then decided to tell Leslie. “We visited her, and someone took potshots at us as we left.”

“What?”

Leslie’s shock echoed in her voice as he sketched out the details, then found the detective’s info to pass along to her.

“Thanks. I’ll give him a call and see how this might be connected with the embezzlement case.”

“You’re officially reopening it?” He hoped so, for Jetta and Emily’s sake. No one had been officially interested in the truth in a very long time.

“It’s unofficially official. We’re in the gathering data stage right now. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“This isn’t for public knowledge, but Emily Ainsley was kidnapped.” As Leslie gasped, he hastened to add, “She’s okay, and I don’t know where the investigation stands, but she did identify Gene Topher as the masked man who visited her where she was being held.” He didn’t share the topic of their conversation, since it wasn’t something FinCEN would have jurisdiction over. However, he did feel Leslie needed to know one piece of pertinent info. “I can’t comment on the gist of their conversation, but Emily was warned to back off the embezzlement investigation.”

“I’m glad she’s all right. This is getting weirder and weirder.”

“I agree.” He could hardly wrap his mind around the news someone other than Jetta’s father had been involved the embezzlement, or at least part of the stolen money. Like Leslie said, this was only the tip of the iceberg. Who knew what FinCEN’s investigation would uncover? “Will you let me know when it is official?”

“Sure. In the meantime, be careful. It sounds like someone isn’t too happy with how you’re stirring the pot.”

He thanked her for the call and disconnected, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He would compose a text to Jetta recapping the conversation, then check in at work. With any luck, he would have a light afternoon and could squeeze in a visit to Mr. Warner, who had a lot of explaining to do.