Chances (Mystic Nights #1)(33)

Simon had stepped back and was examining the papers. He looked apprehensive as he looked at the figures. Panic clearly was in the man’s eyes. Jonathan was glad. The man needed to panic. Needed to do his job.

“I see it now. I really don’t know how this happened.” Simon looked nervous as hell. He opened his mouth to speak once more. Stopped, and started. “I’ve never made mistakes like this before, Jonathan,” he stalled for time. Lying. Placing the papers back on the desk, Simon hoped Jonathan would give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d been foolish to think no one would find these errors until he was gone. He needed time. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow.

Jonathan looked at the man. He looked green. Shit, the cancer, he remembered. “All right. Calm down, but find these mistakes, Simon. The rest of them. If the auditors see this, we are screwed. The money has to be here. I’m not accusing. . . You’ve got to find it.”

Simon began to nod his head profusely. “No, no. You’re right. The money has to be here. I will take all these books and ledgers. . .” He started towards the pile of papers on Jonathan’s desk.

Jonathan stopped him. “Nope. Sorry. I am going to keep digging myself. Use the computer ledgers. But find those other mistakes, Simon. I need your help on this.” His tone brokered no argument. “But, I’m really disappointed it has come to this. And if by Wednesday we don’t find anything. You don’t find the rest, well, I will have to bring in an independent team to examine the books.”

Simon stared at Jonathan, a shocked look on his face. “Wednesday? That’s three days away. And you can’t bring in an independent team. You can’t do that without board approval. You need permission. If the press gets wind of it, the gaming commission. . .”

Jonathan gave Simon his most menacing stare. “What the hell? I’m covering your ass, too. You need to keep your mouth shut. The board?” Was the man Crazy? “They’ll shut us down either way. Clean house here at Mystic, and probably press charges. At least this way we can catch the mistakes, or crooks,” he emphasized that word, “ourselves and save all of our asses.”

Simon shook his head in shame. “Um, yeah. Ok. You are right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll. . . I’ll get right on it.” He began to back out, headed towards the door, and escape. He needed to call Peter. Peter would tell him what to do.

He heard Jonathan’s words as he crossed the threshold. “Don’t disappoint me, Simon.”

Simon didn’t answer. He fled to his office like the devil was after him.

*

As soon as Simon was in the privacy of his own office, he plucked his cell phone from his pocket and sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk. He needed to call Peter. If Jonathan brought in a team of independent auditors Wednesday, that would destroy their plans. Two million had already been siphoned out of the casino. Two more was coming out Friday. It was the big prize they had saved for last. The plan had been for the casino to look like it was losing money this quarter and the reserve would have demanded the Sassacus reign and control of Mystic Nights be terminated.

Peter wanted the job. Simon knew that. He was angry Tawny had been given the reins and she had brought her brood in to keep her family in control. But if they figured out what was going on and exposed him, then Peter would be the next to appear on their radar while he would spend the rest of his life behind bars. He didn’t want that. And Peter would kill him. Peter, he had set this whole thing up. Had used his cancer and the lure of money to get those trial treatments his health plans didn’t cover. Only Peter knew his cancer was back. His remission hadn’t lasted long.

He had confided that to Peter. And Peter had then proposed the plan. Simon would get the money. Retire. Go get treatment, and Peter would get the Mystic, and a smaller share of the cash. No one would ever know. The accounts they had set up in the Bahamas could not be traced to them, but he knew Jonathan would soon connect the dots. Wonder how Simon had made, or not caught all those errors. Then when the money couldn’t be found, his fate would be sealed. Well, like hell if he was going down alone on this! Peter better come up with something, or else. After four rings, the phone went to Peter’s voicemail.

He hung up, and tried again. This time, Peter answered. On the second ring.

“What’s up?” Peter snapped when he saw it was Simon.

Simon quickly filled him in. “Jonathan is beginning to suspect.”

“Suspect what?” Simon heard the menace in Peter’s voice.

“He’s already found errors amounting to a quarter million. He’s talking about bringing in an independent team of accountants on Wednesday . . .”

“Shit. This is not good, Simon. We need to stall him. Distract him.” Peter was angry. And afraid. Simon heard it.

“But he said he will bring in a team. How do I stall that? They will find the discrepancies and they will see the money is not here in a matter of hours.”

“Go see Jonathan first thing in the morning. Tell him you found more errors. Tell him . . . shit . . . tell him the independent team is a good idea, you know someone, and you’ll call them.”

“What?” Was the man nuts?

“But you don’t call anyone.” Peter shook his head. The man obviously was clueless when it came to anything but numbers.

Simon clued in. “Okay that gives us until Wednesday, then what do I do when they don’t show?”