The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(6)
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Jack,” Buck said, but his voice shook with fear. “If–”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Buck,” Jack interrupted. “You know what we do, and you know how we do it. And you damn well know what’s at stake here.”
There was silence as Buck didn’t respond. Jack took a drag from his cigarette and pressed his fingers into his temples, working the problem in his mind.
When the ABI investigators came to Buck’s office in the morning, they would see the bills of lading, which would show that Jack put his drivers on a schedule that forced them to speed – a violation of the federal motor carrier regulations. Worse, if they compared the bills to Jack’s driver’s logs, the documents would not match. The logs would inevitably show a Willistone driver certifying that he was in the sleeper birth or off duty when one of Ultron’s bills would show, for the same day and time, that driver making a delivery for Ultron. The ABI would alert the Office of Inspector General of the United States Department of Transportation, and the Office of Inspector General would have grounds to launch a full-scale investigation of Willistone Trucking Company and Ultron, Inc. The US Attorney’s office might then prosecute Jack and all Willistone drivers for falsification of driver’s logs, a felony carrying a penalty of up to five years in prison per violation. Ultron, and specifically Buck Bulyard, could be charged, along with Jack, for conspiracy to violate federal motor carrier regulations, also a felony. Though the relationship with Ultron was fairly young, Willistone had still probably made hundreds of deliveries for Ultron. Which meant hundreds of possible violations, and hundreds of possible counts in the various indictments. Which collectively meant...
We could all go to jail for the rest of our lives, Jack knew.
Then there was the merger. Jack’s eyes shot down to the terms of the agreement, flipping over to the section entitled “Termination” and furiously reading the words, pausing on the last line of the paragraph, which was printed in bold and underlined:
If, at any time prior to closing, Willistone Trucking Company comes under any type of investigation for violating federal motor carrier regulations or if a lawsuit is filed against it that could leave the company insolvent, Fleet Atlantic can terminate or stay the agreement pending the conclusion of the investigation or lawsuit.
“Shit,” Jack whispered. This could ruin everything, he knew. Everything I’ve worked for my whole life...
“Jack, what–”
“Shut up, Buck,” Jack said, slowly looking up from the contract. He took a last drag on the cigarette and crushed it out, knowing there was only one way to handle this mess.
“Buck, if someone were to start digging, where would the gold be?” he asked.
“Here,” Buck said.
“And where is ‘here’?”
“The office. You know, the same place we signed the contract.”
“You mean you’re still in that old warehouse?”
“Yeah. Faith keeps the current documents – the last six months or so – in a filing cabinet in her office and the rest are in a storage room down the hall. Jack, what should–”
“I assume the warehouse is insured in case of certain catastrophes,” Jack interrupted. “... like, I don’t know, wind, rain... fire?”
“Of course,” Buck said. “Why do you...” Then Buck got it. “Jack, oh, God, no. That’s crazy. We can’t...”
“Good.”
“Jack...”
“Buck, just keep your mouth shut. Don’t talk to anyone, especially not the press. I’ll deal with them. And... I’d stay away from the office tonight, if I were you.”
“Jack, you can’t. This is your problem, not mine. Your truck and your driver.”
“Wrong, Buck. If the ABI ever gets wind of those bills, you’ll probably end up in the jail cell next to mine. This is our problem. But don’t you worry. I’m gonna handle it.”
“The hell you are. You can’t...”
“I can and I will. And if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, Faith and the boys are gonna find out what you like to do in your spare time.” Jack paused. “Michael’s bar on Saturday nights. I know all about it, Buck. I even know what kind of KY jelly you like to lube up with, so don’t f*ck with me.”
“Whh... whhhat?” Buck said, barely getting the words out. “How could... how could you possibly...”
“Money talks, Buck. I don’t ever go into a deal without covering my ass. I got video. I got photographs. I got you sucking cock and whistling Dixie at the same time.” Jack paused. “This conversation never happened, do you understand?”
Nothing but heavy breathing on the other end of the line.
“Say you understand,” Jack ordered.
More silence.
“Say you understand, Buck, or everyone in Tuscaloosa is gonna know you bat for the other team.”
“I understand,” Buck finally said, his voice just above a whisper.
“Good,” Jack said, hanging up the phone.
Buck Bulyard felt his bladder give, and the warmth spread down his leg. As the phone clicked dead, he dropped it, unable to steady his shaking hand. He looked at the pictures on his desk. Faith, his wife of twenty years. Sons Buck, Jr. and Danny. What have I done?