Hades

9

The Rockworth and Williams offices were on the fifty-sixth floor of the World Financial Building. The expansive windows in the even more expansive lobby looked out, on this remarkably clear day, over what seemed to be the entire world. Directly east was Ground Zero, its presence still jarring. Looking north you could see almost all of Manhattan-Tribeca, midtown, Central Park, all the way up to Harlem, and even the distant specks of traffic inching along the Triborough Bridge. The view west took in the Hudson River and well into New Jersey. Looking south at the smooth expanse of the Upper Bay, you stared down at the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Justin had the feeling that if he had a better sense of geography and knew which way to look, and if his vision were substantially better, he'd have a decent shot at viewing the jutting shores of Cornwall all the way across the ocean.

He was kept waiting for twenty-seven minutes, three minutes less than he'd expected. He could have barged in, flashing his badge, but he decided to keep this friendly. If the secretary had exceeded his thirty-minute waiting limit, however, his friendly demeanor would have gone out the fifty-sixth-floor window. Luckily for all concerned, she came in the nick of time to lead him back to Daniel French, the Rockworth executive who'd been picked to talk to him.

"I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to be able to tell you," French told Justin. They were sitting in a conference room, which Justin figured was roughly the square footage of his house in East End Harbor. French offered water-cold or room temperature, which Justin declined; coffee, which Justin accepted, black. French had water. Cold.

"I'm gathering any information that might be helpful in the investigation," Justin explained. "I'm looking for help so I can find out who killed Evan Harmon."

"I still can't believe this happened," French said. "You never think… well… It's just so shocking."

"Shocking because Evan didn't have any enemies?"

"Everybody in our business has enemies. I'm sure Evan had his share. No, I meant shocking because people go broke all the time in our business, or people wind up in prison because they embezzle funds. People don't get murdered."

"Sometimes murder can even reach such rarefied air," Justin said.

"I'm not being some kind of prima donna asshole," French said. "I know it happens. It's just never happened to anyone I know. Or anyone quite so rarefied as Evan."

"How well did you know him?"

"Fairly well. We were approximately the same age; we moved in somewhat the same circles, at least professionally."

"Not socially?"

"No, not really. I mean, I'd see him around. At clubs or at a tennis match or something like that. But mostly we knew each other through business."

"I'd like a list of the people here who dealt with him regularly."

"Almost everybody on a certain level dealt with Evan. He was a player. I can get you the list, but it'll be fairly long and I don't know how helpful."

"You don't have anyone who's primarily assigned to Ascension?"

"As I said, we have a few-"

"How about Ellis St. John?"

Dan French was good. He barely missed a beat. "Ellis certainly spends a lot of his time on the Ascension account. He probably could be-"

"He was Evan's primary broker, wasn't he?"

"He is Ascension's primary broker, not Evan's. He's been one of our main connections to people there for the past three or four years."

"One of?"

"Yes. Although I suppose he would be considered the main-"

"If he was the main contact, why did so many other people here need to be in touch with Evan? Or with other people at Ascension?"

"Because we have a lot of different departments, and sometimes it's easier for people to simply talk directly to the person who can best address a specific need. If Ascension wants some research done on a particular type of investment, they deal with someone in that department. Ellis might coordinate it but not always."

"Is that Ellis's main job, coordinating?"

"No. It's just a by-product of his link to Ascension. And to other companies, by the way. Ascension's hardly his only account."

"What exactly is his link to Ascension? Can you define it?"

"I suppose. It's not as if it's a unique job-it's fairly standard for any company of our size. As I said, R and W is the primary broker for quite a few funds."

"So let's go with the basics and explain to me what that really means."

French smiled broadly. Justin didn't know if he was smiling because he liked teaching people what he did or whether he just liked talking about how much money his company made. "The prime brokerage business is a direct beneficiary of the growth of the hedge fund business. And the hedge fund business has become, by far, the most-how shall I put this-active segment of the asset management business."

"Active meaning lucrative?"

"When it works," French said. "When it doesn't work, it results in the biggest losses."

"So it's the most unstable."

"We don't really use that word around here. Let's just say it's the most volatile."

"Okay. Keep going."

"Twenty years ago, money that was managed by hedge funds was probably somewhere around thirty, thirty-five billion dollars. Now it's substantially over a trillion. There's no other segment of the financial world with anywhere near that kind of growth and profitability. But, as a result, there's more and more competition. That's normal and it's probably healthy, but it also means you have to be more aggressive and you have to be good. You have to be better than your competitors, which means you need every edge you can get. So a lot of hedge funds hook up with companies like ours who can provide prime brokers, which helps give them the edge they need. We provide securities to cover short sales, make margin loans, clear trades, provide reporting services and custody assets, provide research. And we even help hedge funds raise money. As a prime broker, we probably execute twenty-five to thirty percent of a hedge fund client's transactions. We also provide a daily NAV-"

"Sorry," Justin said. "I'm a little rusty with my financial acronyms."

"Net asset value."

"That it? No free tennis lessons and shiatsu massage?"

"If need be. We provide whatever is necessary. We can set up a rudimentary risk management system for our clients; we'll find office space as a hedge fund company expands; we'll find someone an operations officer and traders; and, if necessary, we can even provide the accounting system."

"I assume you're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

"That's a phrase that no one even understands on the Street."

"So explain to me how you make enough to justify this extremely impressive office and your suits that cost more than most people's rent."

"We get commissions from every single trade and order flow."

"At no risk."

"We handle the transactions; we're not putting our own money in. And hedge funds probably account for a third of our trades now."

"You want to tell me how much that might come to a year?"

"We don't give out our financial figures," French told him.

"But if I say 'a lot' I'm not going to be far off," Justin said.

"No. That would be extremely accurate. But we also do a lot of margin lending, and that's at least as profitable."

"So you did all of that for Ascension?"

"As I said, and quite a few other hedge funds. We have many resources that smaller firms, money management companies and funds like Ascension, don't have. We can get better deals, get in earlier than other companies, sometimes get in on an investment opportunity when other firms can't get in at all. One of our jobs, one of the key aspects of Ellis's job, is to bring money in to those deals. Let's say one of our clients wants to raise three hundred million dollars in an IPO. We'll certainly have a share of that, if not the entire thing. We might need to raise half, a hundred and fifty million. So we go out and get it."

"And you might get it from Ascension? Telling them this is a good investment."

"Sure. But as I keep saying, we go to many other hedge funds like Ascension. We don't put all our eggs in one basket. Or even a hundred baskets."

"So Ellis is a salesman in a lot of ways."

"Yes. He's a salesman and an adviser and an investor and a deal maker."

"Can you walk me through a typical day-to-day deal?"

"I don't think it's appropriate for me to give you real cash numbers-"

"Just hypothetical. I want to make sure I understand the relationship."

"Is this really relevant to your investigation?"

"It might be. I can't say for sure until I know a lot more of the facts. And the background."

"You don't think Ellis has anything to do with what happened to Evan?" French asked. He didn't seem particularly horrified or shocked at the thought. More curious.

"I didn't say that. I'd just like to understand the kinds of relationships Harmon had with people who he worked with. It's very unlikely that Evan was killed by someone he didn't know. The odds are it was someone he knew extremely well."

"All right," French said. "Let's say the head of research into new media comes up and says we should invest in… oh… companies that are working on technology to make it easy to download original product into iPod-like devices. Got that?"

"So far."

"Let's say they've come up with a way to do it for audiobooks."

"Don't listen to them. I like to read the real thing."

Justin watched as French did his best not to roll his eyes. The executive stayed polite, and he barely hesitated before continuing his explanation. Justin was impressed. It was one of his best things: annoying people to see how they responded. French must have spent a lot of his days being annoyed by a lot of people because his response was to simply keep going. Didn't change his demeanor when caught in a lie, didn't flinch when aggravated by stupidity. No wonder he was a success on Wall Street, Justin decided.

"We have the resources to research which companies have the best technology and the greatest upside. Which companies are most likely to survive some very strict competition. We make our call; Ellis goes to Evan Harmon, says we think this is an area you want to invest in, here's the result of the data we've put together; Evan comes back to us and says, 'Okay, we're in, we're good for X dollars.'"

"X being a substantial amount of money."

"Very substantial in some instances," French said.

"That three hundred million you mentioned earlier-that's not way out of line."

"It can be less than that. Certainly for a company like Evan's. But the total overall can be more."

"And if Evan Harmon says no?"

French shrugged. "Then he says no. We move on to someone else."

"But a rejection could hurt St. John's pocketbook, right?"

French thought about this for a moment, then shrugged noncommittally. "It's possible. Our salespeople are expected to bring in a certain amount of money, and their bonuses are based accordingly. But for it to affect Ellis, it would have to be a lot more than one turndown."

Justin wondered if Daniel French's brown hair ever got mussed. Or even moved. Or if his three-piece suit ever got a little tight. Probably not, he thought. He wondered if French was wondering right now if he, Justin, ever wore a sport coat that actually fit.

"What if Ascension took its business elsewhere?"

"It happens all the time. People move around. Hell, we're not the only broker used by Ascension. They have several sources." French looked at his Rolex. Still no sign of impatience, even when he said, "Is there anything else I can do for you? I do have a substantial amount of work to do."

Justin nodded, determined to be just as polite as his corporate host, and he said, "I'd heard that Evan was not exactly thrilled with the job Ellis has been doing."

French looked surprised. "Where did you hear that from?"

"Is it true?"

"Not remotely."

"So he wasn't thinking of firing him."

"That's absurd."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because it's the kind of thing I'd know. I'd have to know it. We do a lot of business with Ascension-a lot of buying for them and a substantial amount of consulting and partnering. If Evan had any problem with any relationships, I'd know about it."

"But you didn't."

"No."

"Would anyone else?"

"Know about any problems? It's possible. Several executives might be aware if they existed. Possibly Lincoln might know about it because of his relationship with Evan's father. But, again, if I didn't know about a problem, it didn't exist."

"Lincoln Berdon? That's who you were referring to?"

"Yes."

"He's the CEO."

"That's right."

"He very friendly with Evan's father?"

"Yes. H. R. was part of this firm for a while."

"Why'd he leave?"

"H. R.? Because he went back into government. Happens, you know. He made his money here and went back to public service."

"Why didn't he come back here when he left public service?"

"You'd have to ask him. But if I had to guess, I'd say he just didn't want to work as hard. He'd had a heart attack, and even though his job here was fairly cushy, it was still work. A lot of meetings, a lot of socializing. Plus, Evan had started Ascension by then and I think H. R. wanted to help him out, lend his presence over there. Now, I really should-"

"Just another minute or so. This is very helpful. What does that mean, exactly? Lend his presence?"

"It's not a secret. People like H. R. hook up with companies like ours or Evan's because of their Rolodex. H. R.'s international relationships are priceless. Like the Bushes with the Saudis. Bush One was like a member of the royal family, and it paid off for them big-time. H. R. is as tight as it's possible to be with the Chinese, and since they're taking over the whole goddamn world, it's a valuable connection."

"How valuable?"

"Does his father's role at Rockworth have anything to do with Evan's murder?" French asked.

"Probably not. I'm just trying to get the big picture. Anytime this kind of money is involved, it's possible there's some connection."

"I'm not going to get into specifics, but H. R.'s role was essential to our doing business over there. We had access to investment opportunities in China we might not have normally had access to. Everything from financial markets to car manufacturers."

"Chinese cars?"

"Get used to it. The wave of the future. Chinese cars, Chinese televisions, Chinese everything. We're steering a lot of money their way."

"Makes sense. I like their food, why wouldn't I like their cars?"

The possibility that Justin might now discuss different types of egg rolls finally seemed to exhaust Daniel French's goodwill. Justin could see the helpful light go out of his eyes.

"What are the chances of my talking to Lincoln Berdon?" Justin asked.

"I doubt he's going to be of much help. He also may be the busiest man on the planet, so good luck getting in there."

"He's not around now, by any chance, is he?"

"He's in London today."

"How about Ellis? He in London, too?"

"No, Ellis is domestic only."

"Then where do I find him?"

There was a moment of silence from Daniel French. He looked down at his shoes, uncomfortable, before twisting his neck a bit to the side and saying, "He's not in today."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Sick?"

"I don't know," French said quietly. "He didn't come in today."

"Is that standard operating salesman procedure? To not come in on Fridays?"

"Sometimes," French said. "During the summer."

"And he doesn't need to tell anyone?"

"He told his secretary that he wouldn't be reachable today."

"Dan," Justin said slowly, "the guy is the key contact in your company for someone who was murdered last night, and you didn't think it was worth mentioning until now that he's missing?"

"He's not exactly missing. He's probably at a meeting somewhere."

"How about his assistant? Would she know what meeting he's at?"

"I checked with her before you got here. I assumed you'd want to speak to Ellis."

"And?"

French sighed quietly. "And she doesn't know where he is, either."

"Can I ask you a question, Dan?"

French was looking down at his shoes again. "Yes."

"Did you Google me before we met? Or have your people check me out?"

"Yes."

"Find some pretty interesting stuff, did you?"

"Yes, we did."

"Found some fairly violent episodes in my past?"

"Yes."

"I hope you don't think this is out of line," Justin said quietly, "because you've been very nice and very helpful and I appreciate it. But you should have paid more attention to your research, because I'm not someone to fuck with and you just fucked with me. I'm not sure why and it doesn't really matter. But my advice is don't do it again." He smiled brightly. "Was that out of line?"

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Daniel French said.

"You can tell me who Ellis St. John's assistant is and you can take me to her. And then get the fuck out of my way."

They were given a small room down the hall from the big conference room. Ellis St. John's assistant was an attractive if somewhat husky young woman named Belinda Lambert. She had large, round, brown eyes that seemed to be pleading for someone to take her away from all this. Anywhere. Although preferably anywhere that included a bedroom. Justin didn't take the plea personally. He had a feeling that request had been made many times before.

Belinda wasn't overly helpful once Justin made it clear he wasn't taking her anywhere, although she was polite and her concern about her boss seemed genuine. When Justin had ascertained that she really didn't have any idea where Ellis St. John might be-she'd tried calling his cell phone several times as well as his apartment and had e-mailed his BlackBerry, all to no avail-he tried to get her talking about St. John in general terms. She was evasive about delving into his personal habits. She did say that she was sure he wouldn't stay away too long because of his two cats.

"He loves those cats," she told him. "Binky and Esther, that's their names. I mean, you wouldn't believe the way he treats them. Buys them presents and cooks for them. It's kind of crazy. But sweet, too, don't you think?" He agreed it was very sweet, and when he asked who fed them when he was away, she said, "I do. They don't like me as much, though. I'm more of a people person than an animal person. But I'll feed them tonight and for the weekend. Well, I guess I'll feed 'em as long as he's away."

"You know he won't be home this weekend?"

"That's what he said. That I wouldn't be able to reach him today and he'd be gone all weekend."

"When he told you this, did he sound upset?"

She thought for a moment. She had on a strange reddish-purple lipstick and her thought process involved licking the lipstick with her tongue and then leaving smudges of it on her white, white teeth. "No," she said. "I'd say he sounded kind of happy. You know, excited. I got the feeling it was a hot date or something."

"Does Ellis have a car?"

"No," she said. "You know, I told him he should, I mean he goes away all the time on weekends. Fire Island, the Hamptons, Bucks County. He says he'd rather rent."

"Do you make his reservation for him when he rents?"

"I don't have to," she explained. "At least during the summer. He has a standing reservation at Hertz on Thursdays. The one that's just a couple of blocks from here. If he doesn't want a car, then I cancel the day before."

"Did you cancel on Wednesday?"

"No. So I guess he picked it up."

"You have his cell phone number, Belinda?"

She nodded and rattled off the number. He picked up an office phone and dialed it. After several rings, a recorded message came on, a man's voice saying, "You've reached Ellis St. John. I'm not available, but if you leave a message I'll call you back as soon as possible." When Justin heard the tone, he said, "Ellis, this is Justin Westwood, I'm chief of police for East End Harbor in Long Island. Please call me as soon as you get this message. It's very important." He gave his home number and his cell number, and hung up. And he made a note of St. John's cell number.

"I'm sure he'll call you back soon," Belinda Lambert said. "He's very good about calling back."

Justin nodded. Then he asked about Ellis's relationship with Evan Harmon. There was a noticeable hesitation and a slight off-center smile on her lips, so when all she said was, "It was fine," Justin couldn't let it just stop there.

"Can you elaborate?"

"On what?"

"On their relationship." He knew that even assistants on Wall Street made six-figure salaries. Justin decided that Belinda was overpaid.

"What is it you want me to say?" she asked.

"I want you to tell me the truth. Did Ellis and Evan get along?"

"Sure."

"How do you know?"

"Because they spoke on the phone constantly. And they got together all the time. And…"

"And what?"

"Look, Mr. Westwood-"

"Chief Westwood. I'm a police officer, Belinda, and this is a homicide investigation-do you understand?"

"Yes, it's just that Ellis can be… well… he won't like it if I tell you certain things."

"Such as?"

She gave him an I-may-be-dumb-but-I'm-not-dumb-enough-to-fall-for-that look. Justin didn't change his expression, just waited.

"Look," she said, "I could get fired."

Again, Justin stayed quiet. Apparently silence was the one thing Belinda couldn't bear.

"I think Ellis is in love with Mr. Harmon." She shook her head as if she couldn't believe she said it out loud. But now that she had, it made it easier for her to keep going. "I mean, he never said that or anything, but you can just tell that kind of thing."

"How could you tell?"

"He would get so excited when Mr. Harmon called. You know, he'd, like, spruce up, fix his hair or something, like Mr. Harmon could see him, even though he was just on the phone. And Mr. Harmon could ask him to do anything. I mean, like anything. You know, run an errand for him or take someone to dinner, and Ellis would just get so excited."

"Ellis is gay?"

"Well, yah," she said. "I mean"-and she lowered her voice to finish-"you know, this is a weird place. It's kinda like the army, you know-don't ask, don't tell. It's a real guys' place, so Ellis isn't like some queen or anything. I mean, I don't know if everyone knows."

"But you know."

"I work for him. But even if I didn't, I'd know."

"Because you can just tell?"

"Just like I can tell you're straight." She maneuvered her breasts just a bit so they seemed to jut ahead a little straighter and she smiled at him with her abnormally white teeth. "You know, I kind of like the fact that you're, you know, maybe not in such great shape. I'm not big on the gym rat types. I'm a little bit zaftig myself. Maybe you noticed."

"Belinda, let me ask you something…"

"Sure, you might as well take advantage of me while I'm feeling so blabby." The white from her teeth flashed even brighter. The dark lipstick stain on the upper row made it look as if she'd just bitten into an extra rare and bloody steak.

"Was Ellis ever violent?"

"Ellis? With me?"

"With anyone."

"God, no. Well…"

"What?" he said.

"I never saw him violent. But once he couldn't come into the office, he said he was sick. I went to his apartment to bring him some work and he wasn't sick, he was pretty marked up, you know, like a black eye and some cuts and stuff. I figured it was, well, you know, a rough trade or something like that, but he'd definitely been in a fight."

"Does he have a temper?"

"Oh yeah. He does a lot of yelling and slamming the phone down and stuff like that. But that's not so weird around this place. I mean, you should hear Mr. Berdon sometimes, when he reams somebody out. It's unbelievable. But, you know, I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I mean, Ellis is a fantastic boss. He can be really generous. Like, they don't give assistants BlackBerrys here-it's really weird what they'll cut corners on, you know-and then they'll spend, like, a million dollars on some golf tournament thing…"

"Belinda…"

"But, anyway, Ellis got me a BlackBerry. Like, out of his own pocket, you know. He decided it would be more efficient so, I mean, he paid for an R and W techie to, you know, make all of his stuff work on it and he pays for the monthly bill and everything…" She stopped suddenly and lowered her voice again, this time to a hissing whisper. "Do you think Ellis killed Mr. Harmon?"

"Do you?"

"I don't know. I told you I think he was kind of in love with Mr. Harmon. Why would you kill someone you love?"

Because that someone was married, Justin wanted to tell her. Because that someone didn't love you back. Because that someone was capable of using love to get what he wanted, no matter the cost.

Because it's what people did.

Every minute of every day.

But he said none of that. Instead, he just told her, "Good question."

She nodded, as if acknowledging that her boss was now officially off the hook. Justin realized he wasn't going to get much more out of her, at least for now, so he started to make his move out of the small room but she reached out and put her hand on his arm. He looked down and saw a piece of paper in her hand.

"It's my card," Belinda Lambert said. "It's one of the cool things about this place: even the assistants get business cards." She produced a pen from nowhere and scribbled something on the card. "It's my home number," she told him, "in case you get, you know, some kind of inspiration at night and think of something, you know, you might want to ask me. Even late at night, that's okay with me. I won't mind."

"That's good to know," Justin said.

"Anything I can do to help," she said. "Anything."

When Justin left the Rockworth and Williams building he felt as if he needed a shower. It was a place that was built on secrets and desperation. Not his favorite combo.

But a combo that definitely was capable of leading to a murder, he thought. So as he headed down the street, he called Mike Haversham at the East End station, told him to see if Ellis St. John had picked up a rental car for the weekend. If he had, he told Mike to get the make and plate number and to see if anyone around town had seen it yesterday.

He hung up, thought about Belinda's question to him.

Why would you kill someone you love?

Justin shook his head. He wondered if he'd ever been naive enough to ask such a question.

He didn't think so. But if he had been, it was so long ago that he couldn't remember.