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The crunch of a fresh apple, with the explosion of sweet, tart juice into his mouth, was one of the simplest pleasures that Vince would indulge in during his daily lunchtime routine. He gripped the honeycrisp in his hand like a two-seam fastball, but his wrist was limp as he examined it, as if he was perpetually disinterested with the fruit. And the truth was, he wasn’t focused on the apple at all. Instead, he kept the corner of his eye trained on the door. Because if any particularly observant co-workers were puzzled by the fact that Vince was eating his apple before lunch, those thoughts would be pushed aside in approximately ten seconds.
As if on cue, four stern-looking men in windbreakers barged through the double glass doors at the front of the room. Leading the group, a man who looked suspiciously like Bruce Willis pulled off his sunglasses and surveyed the room. After a moment, he waved his fingers and the other three men dispersed, flanking the outsides of the bullpen where most of the junior associates sat. On the backs of the windbreakers, Vincent could make out three letters in block yellow print. S-E-C.
“All right everyone please step away from your computers, place your hands out where we can see them. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”
Vince slid back and took a few paces away from the laptop that was still open on his desk. As one of the SEC agents passed by his desk, all he saw was a spreadsheet and some documents related to an upcoming acquisition he was working on. If he’d stopped and gone through Vincent’s computer, he’d find nothing but the mundane work of a lawyer. Because, of course, the computer that the SEC agent would be more interested in wasn’t on Vincent’s desk. In fact, at the moment it was sitting on his kitchen table.
But the agent didn’t stop in front of his desk. Instead, he took a right at the end of the row, converging with the other three agents behind Charlie Woodcomb’s desk.
“Mr. Woodcomb, would you please step away from your terminal?”
Woodcomb complied, stepping back a few paces while one of the other agents began to pull out a small device that looked like a modem out of his bag. With the snaps of a few ethernet cables, the device whirred to life and the agent began typing on Charlie’s laptop. Vincent looked on, suppressing the smirk on his face. Instead, he took another loud, smacking bite of his apple. He felt like the villain in a movie; they were always eating apples to look like conniving assholes.
* * *
Paul Volek stood at the door of his office frozen as he watched the agents move about the room. Once they began to converge on Woodcomb, Volek let the breath he’d been holding in escape his lungs. He waited a few moments, watching the agents and letting the adrenaline wear off. His mind began to clear, and he slowly backed away towards his desk.
He didn’t sit, wanting to avoid suspicion. Instead, his eyes still trained at the group of SEC agents, he let his hands creep across the mahogany tabletop to his wireless keyboard. He struck a few keys, then slid his mouse and clicked twice. After counting in his head to two hundred he stole a glance over at the monitor. The download bar was full, and a popup bar confirmed that the files had finished copying to the drive. Slowly, Volek pulled on the thumbdrive sticking out of the port until he heard the pop and the drive broke free.
As he looked up again, making sure none of the agents had noticed his move, he slid the drive up his palm and into the cuff of his shirt. The mental of the drive clinked softly against his Thomas Sabo cufflinks, but stayed secured right against the inside of his left wrist.
After a moment, he began to slip back towards his door and opened it once he saw the SEC agent who had been sitting at Charlie Woodcomb’s computer stand up. He took two steps towards Woodcomb and took his arms, putting them behind his back.
* * *
“I’m telling you I don’t know what the fuck those documents are and I’ve never seen them before in my life!”
“Mr. Woodcomb I would advise you to remain silent until you’ve had an opportunity to consult with your attorney.”
“I am an attorney you dunce! A Harvard educated attorney! And once me and this office are done you, won’t be able to get a job as a mall cop!”
“What seems to be the problem here gentlemen?” Vince heard Volek’s words from over his right shoulder, and turned to see his boss striding towards the commotion, his chest characteristically puffed in front of him.
One of the agents turned towards Paul, flashing his badge. “Carl Trumaine, SEC. Sir it appears that one of your employees has been engaged in insider trading–”
“This is a load of horseshit!” Charlie shouted.
“In violation with SEC regulations. He has purchased and sold stock in companies prior to their purchase or sale by Meca Corp. There are bank records showing unreported deposits and withdrawals from his bank account, and another account in the Cayman Islands registered under his father’s name has also received significant deposits over the past two months.”
“I assume,” Volek began speaking evenly. “You have some proof beyond mere transactions. As you know, per the ruling of United States v. Hagan and SEC Rule 10b5-1, the SEC must show that the accused used material nonpublic information in making these trades.”
Agent Trumaine nodded towards Woodcomb’s computer. “While the timings of the transactions could be a coincidence, we also found an encrypted e-mail account that your employee seems to have been using to communicate with someone else in this office. They were passing him details about these sales and purchases would go through. Dates, amounts, parties involved. Hell one e-mail got the press release timing of an acquisition accurate to within an hour!”
Volek frowned as the agent kept talking. Eventually, Charlie began to again protest his innocence until Paul, Tom, and a few of the other seniors came by to calm him and remind him that he was not required to answer any of their questions. By the time Charlie fell silent, the other agents were already loading his computer, phone, tablet, and other equipment into a large box.
“Because these messages were encrypted on both ends,” Agent Trumaine explained, “it won’t be as easy to determine who Mr. Woodcomb was working with until we can decrypt all the metadata on his computer. Of course, since all of this information went through Meca servers, you could save us a lot of time by–”
“Nope,” Volek held up a hand to cut him off. “I’m sorry Agent Trumaine, but we are not required to allow you access to our servers. Come back with a court order if you want, but until then we will have to ask if you gentlemen have any other business with Mr. Woodcomb.”
“Paul,” Charlie pled, his eyes beginning to water. “I swear to you, I’m being set up. I didn’t have anything to do with these trades. I’ve never–”
Volek shook his head at Charlie before turning away and whispering to Tom Larsen. All the while, Vince sat there, staring at the tears dripping down Charlie’s face. He felt a lump in his throat, but closed his eyes and remembered that Charlie had once slept with a married senior associate and gotten a nice fat paycheck to keep him quiet. It wasn’t above him to fake tears to play the SEC or his boss.
Larsen walked over to the agents, explaining that he would be representing Woodcomb as counsel, and asked if they had anything else they needed before they needed to leave. Once the SEC had everything in order, the group of six began heading out the door.
As they were leaving, Vincent heard a faint, croaking sob from Charlie. He couldn’t help it but let a smirk creep across his face, so he bit into the apple again to try and hide it as best he could. Staring at the apple as he chewed, he wondered if Charlie would suspect that it was meek little Vincent Wong all along.
* * *
For the next hour or so, there was quite a bit of commotion amongst the juniors and paralegals. Many of them huddled and whispered together in groups. Normally, Volek would have broken that up instantly, but he understood. Hell, the senior partners had immediately gathered in his office to discuss whether they thought the charges were legitimate, what their next move would be if Charlie was indicted, and who the unknown person passing this insider information was.
Volek lounged back in his chair as the rest of them squabbled among themselves. He really couldn’t care less who was passing along insider information, other than the fact that it was going to cause more work for him and his department. Instead, he thought about Agent Trumaine and his group, pouring over Woodcomb’s computer. He wondered what they might find. And how long it would be before they came back with a warrant.
So, once all the dust had settled and everyone finally got back to work, Paul Volek paged his paralegal to come into his office. Cara Phillips was a 23-year old fresh out of Princeton. She spoke half a dozen languages, was a four-year fixture on the tennis team, and graduated summa cum laude with a dual degree in economics and computer science. But, if he was being honest, she’d been hired because of her looks.
As she ambled into the room, he caught himself staring for just a moment, but then refocused on the task before him. When his gaze returned to her face, she was not amused.
“Something I can do for you Mr. Volek?”
“Yes Cara as a matter of fact there is.” He held up the thumb drive, which had been stashed in his sleeve. “Since the SEC will likely be back to do a full review of our servers, the senior partners and I have decided to remove some of our clients’ more…sensitive documentation. For fear that they could be accidentally leaked or disseminated in the course of an investigation.”
Cara shifted uncomfortably. “But Mr. Volek, don’t we have a duty not to destroy evidence?”
“Of course, of course my dear,” Volek said as he stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing in here is criminal, or related to this insider trading, I assure you. All of this information has been taken off the servers and encrypted on my own personal computer, so if they absolutely have a need, the SEC can review it in a safe environment. We just want it protected and out of question for any agency overreach.”
Cara took the drive, holding it like it was radioactive. “So what do I need to do?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just hold onto it for me until this whole fiasco is done with. If I need it, I’ll just contact you. Does that sound fair?”
Sensing that Cara was still uneasy Volek leaned in. “Look, I know this seems a bit funky, but I assure you this is commonplace in the legal world. The other seniors and I wouldn’t be doing something unethical that could jeopardize our license. And because I trust you to help with this sensitive matter, I think we could very easily arrange for a small bonus for you at the end of the month. Say, $20,000?”
That made Cara perk up. That was almost a third of her salary, though it was a pittance compared to the potential she held in her hand.
After agreeing and gleefully thanking Volek, Cara left with the thumb drive securely in her bag. As he watched her leave, Volek remembered that there was still one thing left to do. He picked up the phone and began to dial a number to their IT department.
* * *
The Southway Diner wasn’t exactly a restaurant that was popular among the legal team at Meca. In fact, most of Vincent’s fellow co-workers would probably shudder at the idea of being seen there. But Vincent ate there almost every week. His order was always the same: double cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake.
Karina set down his plates with burger and fries piled high and already his salivary glands were in overdrive. With a smile, the waitress said, “here you go sugar” before leaving the young man to his meal.
She was a single mother in her late 30s, and she reminded Vince of his own mother. Sharp-tongued and tough, but always kind and jovial, she would often pick his brain about computer programming while he ate. He was happy to answer whatever questions she would ask so that she would do better in her online course. In turn, he would ask her about her stories from her youth. Even though he had an IQ north of 150, Karina had far more experience in recognizing and dealing with bullshit artists, scams, and shysters. Trading her technical knowledge for her street smart education was a deal he was happy to make.
Dipping a fry into his shake, Vince felt an arm clap down on his shoulder. Smiling, expecting to see Karina back with another question about Python, his eyes widened when instead of seeing her face, he saw a thick, pale neck below a square head topped with white hair.
He barely breathed as Tom Larsen, without uttering a word or asking permission, took a set in the booth opposite his.
“Hello Vincent,” he said with his gravelly voice and a slight smile. “How about we chat?” .
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@joshetyler
@joshetyler
Automatic thumbs up after seeing your apple choice, honeycrisps for life
Nothing says “this isn’t illegal” like a 20k bribe
This is great.
incredible stuff
I’m all in
Love these. Keep it up.