Informant by Kurt Eichenwald Read Free Book Online Page A

ADM’s relationship with the exchanges had long been strained. By siccing the Feds on them, Dwayne had run the risk of shutting ADM out of business there in the future. Mick demanded that the agents—who by then were working on the exchange floor—no longer pose as ADM employees.
    The sting operation continued, but the agents could no longer rely on ADM for cover. The decision angered some at the FBI, which had already invested enormous sums of money in the investigation.
    Years later, in 1991, some of that anger became suspicion. The FBI’s Chicago office had heard that ADM’s treasurer, Thomas Frankel, had been involved in financial irregularities. ADM had done its best to keep the information secret, but by September of that year admitted that
something
had happened. Company officials disclosed that they had uncovered more than $6 million in trading losses dating back years and that Frankel was resigning. Fraudulent trading records were discovered, and the total losses eventually exceeded more than $14 million. But when the Bureau investigated, ADM dragged its feet on providing information, crippling the case. It was an unusual response from a potential crime victim and left agents scratching their heads. Some couldn’t help but wonder whether ADM and Andreas had something to hide.
    With suspicions running deep, one thing seemed clear: If Andreas ever again thought his company was the victim of a crime, he probably would not turn to the FBI for help. By the early 1990s, Dwayne Andreas had the power to go elsewhere.
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    Allen Andreas’s phone rang in his cavernous London town house sometime after seven P.M. It was October 1992. Darkness had already settled over London, but Allen, who oversaw ADM operations in Europe, had more work ahead of him that night. He picked up the phone.
    “Do you still have your friends in Europe?’’
    There had been no introductions, no pleasantries. But Allen immediately recognized the voice of his uncle, Dwayne Andreas. Something important had to be up. Dwayne had never become comfortable speaking openly over the telephone, particularly on overseas calls. Now, here he was, asking about Allen’s “friends’’—an oblique code for his London contacts at the Central Intelligence Agency.
    “Yes, I do,’’ Allen replied.
    “We have a problem,’’ Dwayne said. “Mick will call you about it. I want you to speak with him.’’
    With that, the call ended. But Dwayne’s terse, transatlantic message was clear: Something serious was happening in Decatur. Whatever problem Mick was about to discuss, Dwayne wanted the CIA to take care of it.
    Allen placed the telephone back in its cradle. Almost before he could pull his hand away, it rang again. Mick and Dwayne had obviously coordinated their telephone calls for maximum impact.
    “Hey, Mick,’’ Allen said. “What’s happening?’’
    “We’ve got a potentially serious situation going on here,’’ Mick said. “We need your help.’’
    For the next few minutes, Mick repeated everything he had heard about the Fujiwara call. The story left Allen’s head spinning. Maybe Fujiwara was telling the truth. Maybe it was some sort of con. Maybe Ajinomoto had concocted a sting to get ADM in trouble with the Japanese government. Whatever the answer, Allen understood why his relatives were concerned.
    “We don’t know what’s going on, but obviously there are implications for Japanese-American relations,’’ Mick said. “Dad and I talked it over, and we’d like you to call your friends at the Agency.’’
    Now Allen understood why they were calling him. Dwayne and Mick didn’t know whom they could trust. Allen was family, a lawyer, and had ties to the CIA. There was no one better situated to help.
    Regardless of what the Agency did, Mick said, the most important thing was to get the plant on-line. If that meant buying the “superbug” from Fujiwara, so be it. Maybe the CIA could help in the transaction.
    “We’re ready to do