Page 66 of Nash Falls
But now came the obvious difficulty. PLA had suffered a $70 million loss on paper, plus it still owed the repayment of the loan.That would place it squarely on the acquisition division’s P&L statement, meaning that the purchase of PLA would have been a terrible deal for Sybaritic and seriously impacted the returns of Nash’s division. But that had not happened, Nash knew, because he monitored all acquired companies’ performances closely. In fact, looking at PLA’s financials, the loss due to the processing plant’s closure had been more than made up by a $150 million profit from the sale of… Nash couldn’t quite believe it. Another processing plant in Vietnam. Acquired the previous year for $50 million, PLA had then sold it for $200 million.
They just cleaned another chunk of change in that deal. And PLA can offset nearly half of the gain on that sale by the loss they’ll take on the processing plant’s being shut down.
Nash exited out of the accounts and thought about all of this.
So Cho must have discovered these bogus transactions, just like Lombard and Singer no doubt ferreted out financial misdeeds at their own respective companies. And Steers’s involvement in the companies that I acquired has actually helped their performance, which means I’m not as smart as I thought I was. But then why was Rhett’s division racking up all those losses?
The answer hit him immediately.
They’re losses on paper only, and by using two sets of books, they’re able to shield actual, legitimate income from taxation, which means illicit funds are flowing right through my company and taxes that should be paid aren’t being paid.
Both Steers and Rhett Temple are walking away with record profits free from taxation and hidden behind false sets of electronic books. To his father, Rhett’s a loser, but in reality, he’s probably a bigger winner than I am.
Which means my boss really is up to his neck in crime.
Then something struck him.
Were our accountants and auditors also in on it? Some of them must be. Hell, am I the only one at the company not in on it? BernieMadoff, the king of the Ponzi players, had always claimed that he acted alone. But that was impossible.
But then an obvious point occurred to Nash.
Cho, Singer, and Lombard clearly weren’t in on it, which is why they’re all dead.
And now there’s me right in the crosshairs.
CHAPTER
32
THE GULFSTREAM G800 TOUCHED DOWNand slowly rolled to a stop. Victoria Steers didn’t look out the window at the cloudy, windless day in one of the most unstable countries on earth. The most recent coup several years earlier had left a military junta in charge, though its grip on the country was now slipping badly. Here, corruption, human trafficking, and drug smuggling were rampant, and they had been exploited by certain forces within China.
Steers did not like to be summoned by anyone and there were few in the world who could command her to do anything. But one of them was about to come aboard her jet.
She now glanced out the window to see the arrival of the impressive motorcade.
Steers eyed her five immensely capable bodyguards. There were traces of anxiety in all of their features. They knew as she did that the power represented by the man she was about to meet dwarfed anything they could muster.
She rose when the man appeared in the front galley. He wore a dark suit, a white shirt with a matching pocket square, and a light blue tie. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, for he was not tall or handsome or physically impressive in any way. But one only needed to look into his eyes to see his confidence, intelligence, and ruthlessness. Even Steers, no slouch in the field of intimidation herself, could feel it.
She moved forward to greet him, and then led him back to the private room just forward of her sleeping quarters.
They sat at the conference table. Hot tea and bottled waters weredistributed by the plane’s attendant, then Steers and the man were left alone to discuss what needed to be discussed.
Steers wore a long robe of equal parts red and green. In her heels she was taller than he was. Sitting down, they were of roughly equal height. In all other perspectives, she was dwarfed by him. And he also had a trump card, which she knew he would not hesitate to play if the need arose.
The man smiled and said, “This is a nice plane, Ms. Steers. Very new, I see.” He rubbed his fingers along the fine wood of the table top. “Business must be very good.”
“This is the longest trip I have taken on it. I was in the United States before.”
The man’s gaze rose to meet hers, his expression an unusual mix of humor and quiet gamesmanship. “We always know where in the world you are.”
“You flatter me with your attention.”
He glanced out the window. “I remember well the families of Kokang,” he said. “Wei, Bai, and Liu.” He looked at her. “AndSteers. British among the Han Chinese. Think of that!” His words and tone carried a lightheartedness that did not carry over into his features.
“My mother is Chinese. A faithful communist, as you know.”
He nodded. “Butyouare a capitalist, as everyone needs to be. There is no greater need than one’s own well-being. The philosophy of survival of the fittest weeds out the weak and unambitious.”
