Page 19 of Billionaire Corruption

I stopped in the road outside her apartment building.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, with a small smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Her blue eyes were round, almost childlike and I found my earlier annoyance melting away. Before I could think of something to say, she’d jumped out of the car, and gone into her building.

I was wide awake and didn’t feel like going back to my place. Instead, I drove around the city, stopping for coffee and a donut at an all-night spot. I was surrounded by young people, coming in for a snack after going out clubbing. They were noisy and silly, making loud jokes and drawing the attention away from other, older people, sitting by themselves, drinking coffee, up for some reason or another.

I drove off, to the other side of the city, to a part of town I hadn’t been to in years.

My Uncle Richard was my father’s younger brother. He’d taken over the running of the restaurants from his father. With Aunt Greta, they had two children, daughters who’d married and moved away. We’d see them on occasion while growing up, but our families were not close. My father had moved up in the world while Uncle Richard had been content to live a comfortable life. I knew my father looked down on him a bit, but I had always been fond of him.

Sometime after six, I saw lights come on in the old house. I went up to knock on the front door of the handsome old Colonial my aunt and uncle had lived in for over fifty years.

"Paul!” My aunt seemed delighted to see me.

“Sorry to barge in so early. I was wondering whether Richard was up yet?”

If she thought it was strange to see me turning up unannounced, she didn’t show it. In the kitchen, she offered me tea and breakfast while my uncle got ready to come down. I could hear him groaning as he came down the steps. He’d gained a lot of weight over the years, especially after retiring from the business. But despite the extra chin, his mind remained as sharp as ever.

“Paul, what a pleasant surprise! Joining us for breakfast?”

I had breakfast with them, made small talk about the cousins and then after the meal, my uncle invited me into the garage to supposedly look at his new car.

“I need some advice, Uncle,” I admitted as soon as we were alone.

He crossed his arms and nodded.

“You got car trouble again, son?”

I laughed. He’d helped me out when I’d scratched my father’s car as a teenager, fixing it up for me so that I could return it without my father noticing the damage. He promised not to say anything to my father, either, which was probably an even bigger favor. But I felt I could talk to him in ways that I couldn’t to my father.

“This is a bit bigger than that, I’m afraid.”

“Talk to me.”

My uncle had managed several restaurants in his day, and I knew he was a good businessman who had a lot of respect. I told him of the investigation and Calderwood’s involvement and Brock’s assurance that I was fine. But I had spoken to another lawyer yesterday, a contact of mine. I wanted to get a fresh perspective from someone outside of our firm and his opinion had been to get top legal representation.

“Reminds me of the time I had trouble with the health inspectors,” Uncle Richard said, rubbing his chin. “I had to make a sizeable donation to some or other hockey team to make the whole thing go away.”

“I don’t think I can make this go away,” I said.

“No, I think you’re right.”

My uncle asked, “What does your gut tell you?”

At college, we’d been lectured on the dangers of making decisions based on emotion and instinct. We were cautioned to rely on logic, strategy, and spreadsheets. Those methods had gotten me this far, but my suspicion was that I needed more from here on. I had always trusted Brock and his counsel as chairman of the board. But something seemed off. He’d been out of contact for weeks, not getting back to me or answering my messages. When he finally called me, he was strangely vague and reassuring, which seemed unlike him. He’d told me he was getting things sorted out, but was he really? I felt he was keeping me out of the loop, on purpose.

“What have they got on you?” Uncle Richard asked.

I shrugged. “Nothing, as far as I know. The big focus of the current investigation is the South American operation. That was started before I joined the firm, the way it was set up, was managed by Calderwood from the start.”

“But he’s the bait. They want to catch bigger fish,” said Uncle Richard.

He was right, I was sure of it.

But I didn’t want that fish to be me.

Chapter 9

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