The Futures(86)

“But why? Why are you moving me?”

She turned on the computer, swept her hand across the desk, nodded at the whole array. “It’s nice in here, actually. Nice and clean and quiet. Don’t you think?”

“So I just…are people going to know where to find me?”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve been spending most days in deposition with the SEC. While you’re tied up with that, we figured we’d move you in here so we could free up your old desk.”

“Free it up for who?”

“I’m really just here to help you get settled. Actually, I have to go. I have a nine o’clock on another floor. Here’s the key. The door locks automatically.”

There was a forgotten industrial-size bottle of window cleaner in the corner. I used that to prop open the door while I settled in. A minute later, I looked up to see that the door was pushing the heavy bottle across the carpet, gradually trying to close itself against the outside world.

The following week, when I walked into the conference room for our usual 9:30 start time with the SEC, something had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. Then, as I poured myself a cup of coffee from the setup at the side of the room, I realized that John and Kurt were both silent. My heart started beating faster. They were staring purposefully at the papers in front of them instead of engaging in their usual stupid banter.

My lawyer arrived, and John or Kurt turned on the recorder. “So Evan. We have new testimony from Michael that we need to ask you about.”

“Okay,” I said, glancing over at my lawyer. She nodded.

“You’ve stated that you were unaware of Michael’s relationship with the Chinese officials until the night of”—he looked down at his papers—“November thirteenth, 2008.”

“Right. The first night in Las Vegas.”

“Now, Michael has testified that you were aware of his relationship with the Chinese officials from the beginning. Since”—he looked down again—“August eighth, 2008.”

“No. I didn’t know anything until Vegas. I wasn’t even supposed to hear that. They didn’t know I was—”

“Michael stated that you were aware of his trip to China, taken in August, to facilitate the initial meeting with the officials.”

“No. I mean, yes, I knew about the trip, but I didn’t know what it was for.”

“Michael stated that you did.”

“I didn’t! He didn’t say anything about it, except that he was going to China.”

“Michael said, and I’m quoting here, ‘Evan knew exactly what we were doing.’”

“Can we have a minute, please?” my lawyer said.

We stepped out into the hallway. Her high heels brought her up to my eye level. “Evan. Point-blank, is there anything you haven’t told me? I don’t like surprises.”

“No. Nothing. Why would Michael say that?” My heart was beating even faster.

“It could be part of his strategy. Make it seem like you had more responsibility than you actually did. So he’s not the only one who looks bad.”

“Do you think I look bad?” My voice cracked.

She cocked an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter how I think you look. It matters that I protect you. Understood?”

We went back into the conference room. I could feel John and Kurt staring as I took a small sip of coffee. The scratching of pen against paper, the buzz of the fluorescent light above. A dull ache throbbing through my temple.

“Are we good?”

“Go ahead,” my lawyer said.

“Evan, you turned over the twenty thousand dollars that Michael gave you on November twenty-fourth, 2008. You had said, in previous testimony, that Michael gave you this money as a—I’m quoting here—a token of his appreciation. Is that correct?”

“Yes. That’s what he said.”

“But you didn’t deposit or spend any of the money.”

“Right,” I said, relieved. “It’s all there.”

“Why didn’t you spend any of it? What were you waiting for?”

“I’m sorry—what?”

“Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money. Is there a reason you were so hesitant to touch it?”

“Is this really relevant?” my lawyer said.

“Do you think you deserved that money?”

“I—I didn’t ask for it. Michael just gave it to me.”

“But you didn’t turn it down. You didn’t give it back. Clearly you thought you were entitled to that money in some respect. Except that you didn’t spend any of it. See, that’s what doesn’t make sense to me, Evan. You make it seem like you were just a low-level player. But Michael Casey wouldn’t be giving you a twenty-thousand-dollar payoff unless you were intimately involved with this deal.”

“It wasn’t a payoff!”

“Then what was it?”

“A…a bonus. It was a bonus.”

“Spire didn’t give out bonuses last year.”

“Can we move on?” my lawyer said. “I don’t see that we’re getting anywhere with this.”

“Fine,” John or Kurt said. “The next thing we’d like to ask you about is Wenjian Chan. Has he been in touch with you since you saw him in Las Vegas?”