drums his fingers on the table. “I really shouldn’t tell you this.” He shakes his head. “It’s better if you don’t know.”
“Dad, it’s too late to stop now. I’m old enough to hear what happened to Mom.”
Taking another deep breath, Kent closes his eyes. “As you wish.” His eyes float open. “So our client was a mega-corporation selling one of its subsidiaries to an investment fund backed by Chinese money.”
“Wait, Dad. What was the mega-corp’s name?” Matt holds his jax in his left hand and grabs another pickle with the chopsticks, popping it into his mouth. “Anyone I’d recognize?”
“You don’t need to know. Better if you don’t.” His dad takes in a mouthful of rice and a sip of miso soup. “Anyway, it turns out the client is selling a subsidiary that operates a huge open-pit mining operation in Northern India near a place called Devprayag. Ever heard of it? Two great rivers come together there to form the Ganges.”
Matt grabs the last gyoza, looks at it and licks his lips with relish. “What were they mining?”
“Uranium. A massive deposit was discovered a few years before, and the Indian government jumped on a new source for its expanded nuclear program. The client developed the project and operated it at huge profit for several years, and then suddenly decided to sell it.”
“To a Chinese company, XinShang, right?” Matt smiles.
“That’s the one.” Matt’s dad nods with approval. “You’re good with the jax.”
“So what’s the problem? It says here that the uranium extraction continues in operation to this day, providing India with a source of safe, clean energy and unlimited fuel for its arsenal of nukes.”
“The deal was done in a very short time frame. The buyer sent us a due diligence request list, asking us to tell them everything our client knew about the uranium mine, its operations and any environmental problems. When we reviewed the client’s files, everything checked out.” Kent drinks the last of his miso and smacks his lips.
“So what’s the problem?”
“When you’re a lawyer working on a deal, you get to know your client pretty well. These guys were sneaky. I had a gut feeling they were hiding something.”
Matt leans forward. “Hiding what?”
“Three days before the deal closed, I grabbed a young associate, only a year out of law school, and sent him to India to do some checking on the ground. He showed up unannounced at the client’s headquarters. An old lawyer’s trick.” Kent finishes his rice and ends his meal with a yellow pickled radish.
“What did he find?”
“A disturbing environmental report was buried in some electronic files. Something the client never bothered to report to us or the buyer. He sent me a copy.” Matt’s dad pushes his plate away. “It was the last I ever heard from him.”
CHAPTER 8
A lexa Gianopoulus walks down the hall to Ryzaard’s office in glove leather pants. No need to rush. The plan has been worked out over the space of months, and it’s ready for execution. And she’s in the middle of everything, just where she likes it.
She wonders what her family back in the small village in northern Greece would think of her now, if they could see her clothes and luxury apartment, complete with a well-stocked wine cellar. Images of her past move through her mind. Fields of barley and onions. Endless herds of goats. Tractors and trucks snaking along dirt roads between hills. Her father’s fingers, gnarled from the hard life of a farmer. The long dusty dress her mother always wore. The pungent smell of garlic and olives in the kitchen. Cheese at every meal.
Her parents and extended family have become utterly foreign to her.
Here she is, worlds away, and never happier to have run away from home to the City where she became a student and escaped the crushing boredom of life on the farm. And then the turning point in her life. That chance meeting with Ryzaard two years ago when he came to
“Dad, it’s too late to stop now. I’m old enough to hear what happened to Mom.”
Taking another deep breath, Kent closes his eyes. “As you wish.” His eyes float open. “So our client was a mega-corporation selling one of its subsidiaries to an investment fund backed by Chinese money.”
“Wait, Dad. What was the mega-corp’s name?” Matt holds his jax in his left hand and grabs another pickle with the chopsticks, popping it into his mouth. “Anyone I’d recognize?”
“You don’t need to know. Better if you don’t.” His dad takes in a mouthful of rice and a sip of miso soup. “Anyway, it turns out the client is selling a subsidiary that operates a huge open-pit mining operation in Northern India near a place called Devprayag. Ever heard of it? Two great rivers come together there to form the Ganges.”
Matt grabs the last gyoza, looks at it and licks his lips with relish. “What were they mining?”
“Uranium. A massive deposit was discovered a few years before, and the Indian government jumped on a new source for its expanded nuclear program. The client developed the project and operated it at huge profit for several years, and then suddenly decided to sell it.”
“To a Chinese company, XinShang, right?” Matt smiles.
“That’s the one.” Matt’s dad nods with approval. “You’re good with the jax.”
“So what’s the problem? It says here that the uranium extraction continues in operation to this day, providing India with a source of safe, clean energy and unlimited fuel for its arsenal of nukes.”
“The deal was done in a very short time frame. The buyer sent us a due diligence request list, asking us to tell them everything our client knew about the uranium mine, its operations and any environmental problems. When we reviewed the client’s files, everything checked out.” Kent drinks the last of his miso and smacks his lips.
“So what’s the problem?”
“When you’re a lawyer working on a deal, you get to know your client pretty well. These guys were sneaky. I had a gut feeling they were hiding something.”
Matt leans forward. “Hiding what?”
“Three days before the deal closed, I grabbed a young associate, only a year out of law school, and sent him to India to do some checking on the ground. He showed up unannounced at the client’s headquarters. An old lawyer’s trick.” Kent finishes his rice and ends his meal with a yellow pickled radish.
“What did he find?”
“A disturbing environmental report was buried in some electronic files. Something the client never bothered to report to us or the buyer. He sent me a copy.” Matt’s dad pushes his plate away. “It was the last I ever heard from him.”
CHAPTER 8
A lexa Gianopoulus walks down the hall to Ryzaard’s office in glove leather pants. No need to rush. The plan has been worked out over the space of months, and it’s ready for execution. And she’s in the middle of everything, just where she likes it.
She wonders what her family back in the small village in northern Greece would think of her now, if they could see her clothes and luxury apartment, complete with a well-stocked wine cellar. Images of her past move through her mind. Fields of barley and onions. Endless herds of goats. Tractors and trucks snaking along dirt roads between hills. Her father’s fingers, gnarled from the hard life of a farmer. The long dusty dress her mother always wore. The pungent smell of garlic and olives in the kitchen. Cheese at every meal.
Her parents and extended family have become utterly foreign to her.
Here she is, worlds away, and never happier to have run away from home to the City where she became a student and escaped the crushing boredom of life on the farm. And then the turning point in her life. That chance meeting with Ryzaard two years ago when he came to
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