Free No One Would Listen: A True Financial Thriller by Harry Markopolos Page B

they were wrong.
     
    I certainly didn’t think of myself as a detective. I didn’t own a trench coat like Lieutenant Columbo, I had no physical handicap to overcome like Ironsides, and instead of a talking car to help me like Michael Knight had in Knight Rider, I had Neil and Frank. The only weapons we had were our knowledge of the numbers and our Rolodexes.
     
    What I did have in addition, though, was my experience in the purloined fish case and very good military training. I had served 17 years as a commissioned officer in the army’s reserve components, seven of those years in a special operations unit as a member of a civil affairs team. I had also served for many years under Major General Boyd Cook as he worked his way up the chain of command from the rank of colonel. In civilian life he was a Maryland dairy farmer, and I learned a lot from him. General Cook did not tolerate fools—and he forced his officers to stretch themselves. He would ask his officers to describe their biggest failure. If you didn’t have a big enough failure, he would fire you for not having tried hard enough; his theory was that if you hadn’t failed big, then you couldn’t achieve bigger. As a result of that philosophy we had a high-performing unit because we were continually trying new things. Not all of them worked, but those that did achieved significant objectives. Oddly, I remember pleasing him one year with a failure, although I can’t remember specifically what it was. But he loved the fact that I took a chance, I hadn’t backed down, and at least I tried something new.
     
    General Cook had a low tolerance for bullshit. He always wanted to know the bad news, not the good news, and knew that he could determine the quality of his officers not by speaking with them, but rather by questioning the troops they commanded. Among the many things I learned from my military career that would prove invaluable during this investigation were persistence, human-based information-gathering techniques, interviewing skills, and the ability to maintain my composure.
     
    We began by snooping. There are basically three ways to collect information in the financial industry. First, you can collect the publicly available information, including promotional literature, the pitch books firms distribute to create business, and everything on their web sites. I took everything off Madoff’s web site, although there wasn’t much of value. Second, you can buy data from numerous sources that will provide you with whatever type of esoteric information you want. Everyone has access to this information. And third, as I’d taught Neil, you can get the truly vital information by talking to people, by listening carefully to the rumors and the gossip, the boasting and the complaining. We took all three routes. Once we started working with Access, which was a large feeder fund to Madoff, we got a complete look at all its data. Frank Casey would collect material from his prospects, telling them, “I’m interested in placing money with Madoff,” and if we wanted something specific from a fund, my brother Louie would call and explain, “I’ve got a client who’s interested in getting into Madoff. Can you help me?”
     
    Talking to Wall Street people was extremely informative. Most of these people I was talking with during the normal course of Rampart business, but whenever I had an opportunity I would ask a few questions about Madoff. I spoke with the heads of research, traders on derivatives desks, portfolio managers, and investors. Neil was doing the same thing, and both of us were doing it secretly, because if our bosses found out about it they would have demanded that we stop.
     
    Probably what surprised me most was how many people knew Madoff was a fraud. Years later, after his surrender, the question most often asked would be: How could so many smart people not have known? How could he have fooled the brightest people in the business for so long? The