Page 55 of Billionaire Corruption

I couldn’t get hold of Grace and decided to go over to the house. Waiting for the Uber to arrive, my phone rang.

“Paul! It’s Richard!” boomed the voice on the other side.

Uncle Richard? This was an odd time for him to call.

“Uncle Richard?”

“How’ve you been, son?”

“It’s not a great time, actually….” I started to say, and he interrupted, “Yeah, about that. Could we meet? It’s quite urgent.”

My uncle, usually so jovial and warm, was being very direct. That was unusual.

“What’s going on, Uncle Richard?”

“There’s something I have to talk to you about,” he said.

The feeling of unease from earlier in the day intensified.

“I’m at the Mortimer in Brooklyn, can you come and see me?”

The Mortimer was one of a group of hotels owned by the McKinney family. Originally, they had been smaller, more budget-orientated establishments. Over the last couple of years, the hotels had been rebranded and renovated as more boutique hotels. Still small, but more fashionable and upmarket.

It was out of my way but something about my uncle’s voice made me say yes.

When my ride arrived, I gave him a change of address.

I tried calling Grace again, but her phone went through to her answering service. It must have been flat. I sent her messages asking her to call me.

At the Mortimer hotel, I made my way to the bar area. At the back, there was a private room where I knew my uncle would be. It had always been a kind of informal office for him, a place to meet people and have a chat. There was a private bar area, some tables, and sofas in a corner. My uncle was sitting on one of them. He was talking to two men I didn’t know. As soon as I came in, he nodded at them, and they left without looking at me.

“What can I get you to drink?” He asked me, coming up to me with a big smile. But for the first time, that smile made me uneasy. It seemed less jovial than threatening somehow. Like a baring of the teeth. For the first time, it occurred to me that my uncle wasn’t nearly as benign as I’d always thought he was.

“Scotch, thanks.”

I let him get me a drink and make some small talk. Then he came out with it.

“Listen, Paul, this business with the Ladden investigation is getting a lot of noses out of joint.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know… it’s beginning to stir up some stuff. For your father.”

I had no idea why Uncle Richard was taking an interest in Ladden.

“I think there are some things you need to know,” he said with a sigh. “The McKinney family has always been a big shareholder in the company, you see, from the very beginning.”

Uncle Richard told me when Brock Brenneman started Ladden thirty years ago, the family had made a big investment via one of their businesses, MHG, which was the holding company of the Mortimer Hotel Group. The MHG share had grown with more investments over the years, as well as through partnerships with other hotel groups and other business interests.

“What other business interests?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Well, you know…” my uncle said. “We have certain friends, with particular operations…”

“You’re talking about Boy,” I said, suddenly clicking.

Uncle Richard nodded slightly.

“He’s been running a few casinos, all legitimate businesses of course, but there were some tax problems, you know, in some states and we’ve been helping him with some of that.”

---