Free The Aspen Account by Bryan Devore Page A

tomorrow.

 
     
    14
     
     
     
     
    WHEN MICHAEL ARRIVED in the audit room the next morning, he figured he had perhaps an hour before Andrea and Dustin showed up—enough time to track down the revenue contracts. He grabbed his leather portfolio, left the room, and went to Diamond’s office. “Jerry,” he said, peeking in the open doorway, “quick question. I’m trying to locate the revenue contracts so they’re ready for Falcon when he comes out next week. Can you help me track them down?”
    “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Diamond said, eyeing him coldly. “Falcon has insisted we keep them filed away so as not to clutter up your work room. He said he’d be testing them himself, so he’d rather I just let Mr. Laidlaw maintain them until he comes out.” Then, looking suddenly worried, he said, “Oh, I do hope that’s all right, Michael. Maybe you should give Falcon a ring to discuss it.”
    Michael held back a grimace. Falcon had been adamant about his leaving the contracts alone. “No, that’s fine. I . . . didn’t realize you had spoken with him.”
    “Oh, no worries—anything else, then?”
    “No, I guess that’s it. Thanks.”
    Heading back to the audit room, Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that both Falcon and Diamond were trying hard to keep him in the dark about something with the contracts. At the end of the hallway, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder, then glanced at his watch—seven thirty, and no one was around. He still had some time before most of the employees started filtering back in to work. 
    Leaning into the staircase door, he pushed it open and pelted down the steps two at a time, two flights to the eighteenth floor. All the lights were still off, and as the sensor picked up his motion in the doorway, they flickered on. He must be the only one on the floor. He still had time, but early birds could start showing up for work at any moment.
    He jogged along the outer wall of the office, reading all the names until he found a Russell F. Laidlaw. He turned the handle; it was unlocked. But instead of going right in, he took a step back. The next step, once taken, was irreversible. His stomach felt tight, and he could feel his heart quicken. Looking both directions down the corridor, he stepped into the office.
     
    Russell Laidlaw pulled his powder blue Acura into the sublevel of X-Tronic’s west parking garage. Following the painted traffic lanes, he turned into his spot, got out, and headed toward the orange elevator doors surrounded by gray concrete. The elevator started up and, a few seconds later, deposited him on the first floor of the campus complex, where he switched to the central elevator bank to get to the upper floors of X-Tronic’s main building. As he stepped out onto the first floor, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.
    “Morning, Jerry,” he said.
    “Russell, I need to see you first thing this morning. Are you in the office yet?”
    He wondered at the urgent tone of the CFO’s voice. “I just got here,” he replied.
    “Good. Please come to my office as soon as you can. And bring the documents we discussed yesterday.”
    “I’m on my way—just need to grab them from my office.”
    The call ended, and he headed down the long hallway through the main complex of corporate headquarters. In the lobby, he saw his energetic young assistant, Danny Rossingh, approaching from the opposite direction. 
    “I think we’re going to have another busy one today, Danny,” Laidlaw remarked as they entered the elevator.
    “Why’s that?” the young man asked.
    “I’ve already gotten a call from Diamond. I need to grab something from my office, and then I’m to head straight up to see him. Christ, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these guys stayed here all night. I think something’s going on with the acquisition bid—something they’re not telling us.”
    The elevator doors closed, and they started upward.
     
    Michael went straight to the four