White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

climbed in and swung his legs out of the car so that Dirk could clean the sand from his feet.
    “They’re clean,” he said, slipping into the slippers that were waiting for him. His water was on the console and the newspapers were sitting next to him on the adjoining rear seat. He picked up the Tribune and turned to the sports section. “Let’s go, Farik. I’ve got a lot to get through today.”   

 
    Chapter 5
     
    It was unusual for the partners of Montgomery Hastings & Pierce to ever brawl in public, but loud voices coming from Doug Lechte’s office belied that convention. Managing partner and the firm’s other representative on the national committee, Phillip Cromwell, was laying down the law. He was everything that Lechte despised. Cromwell had done everything to convince the committee to accept the Enron audit, and it was only Lechte’s astute presentation of the case against that had thwarted him. He was pompous and overbearing and even after Enron collapsed hadn’t had the good grace to apologize to Lechte. Cromwell’s white shirt was immaculately pressed, and gold cuff links protruded from under his Zegna suit’s sleeves. He was tall, slim with an aquiline nose and receding dark hair. For him, the perfect weekend was an evening at the opera followed by a day yachting around the Hamptons. In contrast, a great weekend for Lechte would start with a day at the baseball field or basketball with a few close friends, a can of beer and a hot dog. Making it perfect would be spending a day fishing the following day.
    “Your vote’s killed her twice,” Lechte shouted.
    “She’s not ready for partnership.” Cromwell sniffed.
    “Is it because she’s black or is it because she’s a woman?”
    “That’s a cheap shot. If you haven’t noticed, Martin Lawrence is an African American and we have six female partners. Face it, she’s too young, too inexperienced and hasn’t put in enough hours.”
    “Jesus, I’m sorry, Phillip. It’s not because she’s black, and it’s not because she’s a woman. It’s because she’s both. Now, understand this. The firm’s never had a smarter employee and that includes you,” Lechte yelled, thumping his fist on the desk. “If we don’t admit her as a partner, another firm soon will. It may have escaped you, but we don’t have a monopoly on talent.”
    “You know, Doug, there’s only one thing wrong with that little summary. It’s your opinion, and that’s all it is. If you want to nominate and vote for her, be my guest. She’ll not get my vote or the votes of my bloc.”
    “You’re making a mistake, and you’re as closed-minded as you were with Enron. Didn’t you learn anything?”
    Cromwell turned bright red and momentarily lost control before he smiled. “How’s your other star, Todd Hansen, performing? I’ve been getting some poor reports from some of the other partners about him. Seems he’s away from the office quite frequently and yet he’s not with clients. Where’s he going? What’s happening?”
    Lechte silently cursed. Todd had called to say that he was feeling ill and wouldn’t be in today. It was a regular occurrence, and Lechte wondered whether the wheels were falling off. “I haven’t seen those reports, and he’s responsible to me! Why are the partners complaining to you?”
    “Maybe because I’m managing partner.” Cromwell yawned as he stood up. “Don’t embarrass yourself again by nominating her, Doug. She doesn’t have the numbers.”
    “Asshole!”
    Cromwell swung around as he reached the door. “What did you say?” he demanded.
    “You heard,” Lechte said dismissively.
     
    Todd Hansen hadn’t planned on taking the day off but, when his system threw up three winners all rating higher than 95, he had no choice but to head to the betting parlor. He was confident and when he saw the four to one odds on offer for Dancing Girl in the second at Turfway Park he struggled to maintain his calm demeanor. She had rated