Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01 by Predators Read Free Book Online Page A

and a glass on a napkin in front of Henry.
    “I asked for a local beer.”
    “Yes, sir. This is local beer.”
    “Saint Louis is local? What’s the name of the others? San Francisco, Duluth? Old Milwaukee is taken, I’m afraid.”
    The barman only looked at him and nodded agreeably.
    He signaled for the bartender to pour the beer and turned his attention back to his phone.
    The call to his contact in New York was inconclusive. The man in the SEC either did not know, was not in the loop, or had decided to dummy up. Farrah cursed and pulled out his notebook. It had been a present from his wife two Christmases ago. Just before she’d left him and moved in with her tennis instructor. That hadn’t lasted. Cougars can’t hold on to their prey very long, it seems. She’d asked him to take her back. He’d refused and now she lived with his daughter in tight-lipped silence in Winnetka.
    He jotted a few notes in his pocket memo—he’d never been able to master the Blackberry he’d been issued. He had his secretary keep it up to date in case Leo ever asked. His secretary hadn’t traveled with him so he reverted to his pocket notebook. Besides, the notes he was keeping at the moment would not be the sort of information he’d want in the Blackberry anyway. He didn’t know the extent to which that device could be accessed remotely, but he’d become convinced that Leo had somehow managed it in order to spy on his employees. Why else would he have issued such an expensive perquisite? What finally appeared in Henry’s Blackberry files were the innocuous details about items everyone knew.
    He clicked off and drummed his fingers on the polished bar. A second call confirmed the first. Either the SEC knew nothing, knew but saw no cause for concern, or his contacts weren’t as tight with the commission as he’d been led to believe. Henry scowled and dialed Chicago.
    The investor consortium he’d assembled and in which he’d been promised a substantial equity share based on his insider position were understandably skittish. They hadn’t heard anything and were less than pleased to hear there might be a leak. Since his future depended entirely on the IPO going through, they said, he’d better put a lid on the rumor immediately. Easier said than done. Perhaps he should have another talk with Brenda Griswold. He wrinkled up his nose at the thought. Like so many of his social class, he held people like Brenda in disdain—being a predator in the market place was somehow classier than being one on the streets.
    It required ten rings before his secretary answered. She gibberd something about a Christmas party, giggled, but had nothing to report. When reminded that it was only nine in the morning in Chicago and only the eighth of December, which meant Christmas was still seventeen days away, she hiccupped, made an effort to acquire a serious and sober tone, and agreed it did seem a bit early to celebrate. She’d have a word with the girls.
    “I asked you to pull the IPO file and fax it to me on the plane. You didn’t. I need it. Fax it to me at the hotel.”
    She seemed to struggle with her pronunciation but did manage to ask for the fax number.
    “How the hell would I know? Look in the itinerary on my desk and find it. I want that file ASAP.”
    Henry slapped his phone shut with a curse uttered loudly enough to attract the attention of several guests. He slid off the stool and stormed out of the bar, his beer untouched and his bill unpaid.
    ***
    From his vantage point in a booth to the rear, and unseen by Farrah, Travis Parrizi watched as he pulled out his notebook and scribbled furiously for a minute. He wondered what had become of Henry’s Blackberry. Everyone in the company had been issued one, Henry included. All notes and correspondence that related to Earth Global were to be entered in the devices. Apparently these notes were personal, or they were some other kind of business—business Farrah did not want anyone to know