Criminally Innocent

By Lloyd Reman

In this gripping financial thriller, corruption, backstabbing and lies converge as an honest man considers criminal acts to save his friend from being punished for a crime he didn't commit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483522937

Lloyd Reman

Born in Brooklyn, Lloyd roots for (and screams at) the NFL’s Giants, the NHL’s Rangers and the (need it be said?) Yankees. He lived in Houston in the 90s, so he also loves the Comets, winners of the first four WNBA championships (no one told him the team’s defunct).  After graduating from Arizona State, Lloyd returned to the New York City area (and his parents promptly moved from NY to Phoenix…humm). Realizing he had to support himself, he spent nine years with PricewaterhouseCoopers before becoming a corporate executive with multinational firms.  He’s been married twice (to the same woman), he’s currently divorced (she wised up both times) and he adores his two daughters (who think he talks too much).

Book preview

9781483522937

Chapter 1

I don’t think I can tell this story without first mentioning the Iron Horse Bar & Grill; after all, that’s where I was when the trouble started. Located in midtown Manhattan, it’s an unpretentious place. The food’s decent and the prices are reasonable. The thick wooden tables and chairs could use an upgrade – they’ve received more than their share of wear and tear. Someone once said the place is haunted. If that’s true, the phantom must have played baseball. The dark paneled walls of the Iron Horse are covered with baseball paraphernalia from the early 1900s, including a giant photo of Lou Gehrig swinging the bat, just above a sign proclaiming the Iron Horse goes yard.

I’ve been to the Iron Horse more times than I can remember, but I’ll never forget June 30, 2003. It was a gorgeous evening and the place was packed – you nearly had to scream to be heard. The four of us were there, huddled at a table near the back. We’d brought our uniforms – suits and ties – although our jackets were off, our ties were loosened and our shirt collars unbuttoned. The smell of beer permeated the air above our table; we’d knocked over a bottle or two. We were making the most of the occasion, celebrating the 25th of our annual June 30 Iron Horse dinners.

I raised my bottle to make a toast, but before starting, a cell phone buzzed. Kavi Chander stood up and crouched against the wall, holding his phone and covering both ears. After a few grunts, he smashed his fist against the wall and said, Someone’s going to jail, but it won’t be me. He hung up and glared at the crowd.

That put a little damper on things. It was supposed to be a night to appreciate how much we had accomplished, and each of us had done well, although Kavi had done the best. He was the chief financial officer of American Dynamics Group, or ADG as they were known, one of the largest corporations in the world. He was also being groomed for the company’s top spot, yet none of the success had gone to his head; a down-to-earth kind of guy, he was as comfortable in a bar as he was in a boardroom. He was also my best friend.

Kavi sat down and grabbed his beer, clutching it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He eased his grip and took a sip. In response to our stares, he provided an explanation. Debra Jennings, ADG’s assistant controller, had called from Nikolaev, Ukraine where she’d been sent to get information about delays and cost overruns for a construction project. She’d found evidence ADG may have illegally bribed Ukrainian government officials.

Marc Abrams, a partner with the prestigious law firm of Bartman & Cross, fired away with questions. Is she reporting through you or your legal counsel? Who knows about her work? Is her information reliable? Can it be controlled? Although Marc didn’t look intimidating, his style could quickly put you on the defensive, even though he had your best interests in mind. We wouldn’t have been surprised if one of his clients slugged him.

Kavi dodged the questions, and Marc deferred his inquiry for another day. A round of beers later, Kavi made light of the situation, doing an impersonation of Marc as a prosecutor cross-examining an 80-year-old grandmother. Kavi was great at things like that. We always said he’d have been a comedian had he not chosen to become a CPA.

Ken Tanner, the member of our group who never met an attractive woman he didn’t like, returned his focus to a woman at the bar. She’d held his attention for a good portion of the evening, and she must have scrambled his brains, because while looking at her, he said, Companies lose up to half their market value within weeks of making a scandal public. He turned to Kavi. What’d your stock hit today, $65?

I wasn’t sure how Kavi would take that, but he smiled and said, What’s next, statistics about CFOs getting fired?

You have to be a CFO to worry about that in the first place, so don’t complain. Ken led the tax department at NV Industries, a multi-billion dollar company, though it wasn’t as big as ADG. If you didn’t know what he did for a living, you’d never have guessed. He stood a shade under 6 feet tall and had muscles on his muscles. He’d been a baseball prodigy during his college years, and with a little luck could have made it to the majors. Still looking like a ballplayer, he had a way of attracting women, doing what he could to encourage them even though he was happily married, or at least we thought he was.

After a while, we got back to our burgers and fries, and my thoughts turned again to what we had accomplished over the years. As for me, Carl Messina, I was the only one of us who had remained with the firm. Making partner in the world’s largest accounting firm was a pretty decent accomplishment for an Italian boy from Brooklyn, but I didn’t think I measured up to the others, and it bothered me that I was the lone bachelor, despite all my efforts to join the married club. Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about women that night, and I suspect no women were thinking about me.

Getting together for our annual dinners was a fabulous tradition, and we considered ourselves fortunate that it had started in 1979 at the Iron Horse. Though it could never be mistaken for a four-star restaurant, we could afford the prices with our then salaries of $13,000 per year, which at the time seemed like all the money in the world. As the years passed and our paychecks grew, we talked about switching to a better place, but tradition always won out.

*****

Carl, please report to our offices at 1251 Avenue of the Americas, conference room 515, by 9 am on Wednesday, June 13, 1979. The firm had sent the letter to my college dorm a few weeks before my May 16th graduation. Although it included instructions for my first day of work, it sounded more like a subpoena and it scared me half to death. I knew enough to earn my degree in accounting, but had no idea what to do at the firm. What scared me more was the thought that all the other recruits would know exactly what to do.

I would be one of 35 people who’d start that day. Another 70 would get their start later that summer. We’d be that year’s recruits for the New York office of Winston Knight & Co., one of the Big Eight accounting firms, as they were known at the time. It would later merge with one of the other Big Eight firms to become Winston Walker & Co., the largest accounting firm in the world. The plan called for in-house training followed by two weeks of offsite sessions. After that we’d be assigned to audits and other projects.

It was June 13, my start date, when I first spotted Kavi. They’d arranged tables in the form of a large rectangle in the conference room so everyone could see everyone else. At 6 foot 6, 250 pounds, Kavi was hard to miss. I also remember noticing Ken, and how the women periodically glanced his way.

I took some comfort that most of the others looked nervous, but Kavi seemed as if he’d been working for years. When the session started, he had the first question, asking what criterion the firm used to assign staff to specific audits. The only question I had was how to get to the bathroom.

Kavi approached me after our first break and said, You look a little nervous.

It’s that obvious?

Let’s put it this way, if I were your pen, I’d be dizzy by now.

I didn’t realize... I put my pen down.

Don’t worry. Most people are anxious the first day.

"What’s your secret?"

A few of us spent time as interns, and that helps.

He told me a funny story about one of the partners, and then the training session resumed. I felt better as the session progressed, but when we broke for lunch, I got nervous again. I thought they’d bring food to the room, but instead we were given 90 minutes to eat on our own. Fortunately, Kavi and Ken were organizing a small group, and before I had to make an awkward advance, Kavi asked if I’d come along.

There were nine of us, and we took off for The Iron Horse which was about five blocks from the office. Marc was in our group. He introduced himself and asked if I’d been an intern.

No. It’s my first day. Can’t you tell?

It’s mine too, but I did get to speak to some people here for one of my law school projects at Penn. They let me ask a few hundred questions.

His saying he went to law school made sense. He seemed older than the others, although everyone seemed older to me. I was the youngest in the group – I wouldn’t be 20 until December.

At lunch, I wanted to speak with some of the women, but couldn’t think of anything to say. What’s worse, I had to listen to Ken say all the right things. He had the looks to get women interested and the personality to keep them interested – I envied him from the start.

In the afternoon session we were given details about the offsite training that would start the following Monday in a small town in Pennsylvania. They said we’d be reimbursed for our travel expenses and would get $30 if we drove our own cars. During the break, I overheard three guys who agreed to drive in one car, but say they’d driven separately so they’d each get $30. I couldn’t believe it – back then I was a tad naïve.

On Sunday, some of us met at the Port Authority Bus Terminal to catch a chartered bus to the training facility. The weather was perfect and everybody seemed relaxed. I sat next to the sexy Nancy Wong, and we had a great conversation. Ken periodically glanced my way and gave me an approving nod. Of course I knew Nancy was married. It was easy to do well with an unavailable woman.

Shortly after arriving at the facility, we were joined by recruits from other offices. They mixed office groups in the classes, but kept us together in the dorms. As luck would have it, Kavi was my roommate. The first night, he described what it was like growing up in India, in the town of Kanpur, about 250 miles southeast of New Delhi. At the time, my international experience consisted of a family trip to Toronto.

In response to my query asking how he’d gotten to the US, he said, You have to go back to 1969. My friends said people were on the moon. I thought they were nuts, but when I got home, my father told me it was true. I stayed up all night staring at the moon searching for a spaceship, as if I could see it. He laughed. That’s when I decided I was coming here, to become an astronaut. Can you believe that?

To me, 1969 means the New York Mets. Unfortunately, I’m a die-hard Yankees fan. I realized only ten years had gone by, but 1969 seemed like ancient history.

Kavi explained how he emigrated from India. Under a special exchange program, he and nine other students, selected out of a pool of over 3,000, lived with families in Boston while completing their last two years of high school. From there, he was granted a full scholarship to attend Boston College.

We kept talking, and I sensed I was boring him with some of the stories about my childhood in Brooklyn, like the time my brother and I stole all the red Christmas lights from the houses on our block. Kavi and I finally called it quits around 2:30 in the morning and went to sleep.

The first weekend of our training approached, and about 25 of us made arrangements to take a bus to Baltimore on Saturday night to see the Orioles play the Tigers. Another group went to a nearby racetrack to bet on the horses. As it turned out, Kavi and Marc had an affinity for betting, and Ken and I couldn’t turn away from a ball game. It was my first opportunity to watch one outside of New York.

During the early innings, Ken spent as much time talking to Nancy Wong as he did watching the game. He knew she was married, but he told me that’s just the first step toward getting a divorce.

Before the start of the fifth inning, I switched seats with Nancy so I could sit next to Ken – he didn’t seem pleased. As the Orioles took the field, I asked what it was like playing ball in college.

It was a blast, he said. Especially my first year. We won the NCAA championship.

Is that right?

I knew we’d be good. That’s why I chose Texas. I had my pick of schools.

Did you play as a freshman?

Of course. I started from day one.

That’s impressive.

I thought I had what it takes to make it to the show.

You think you’ll give it another shot? I cringed, realizing it was a dumb question – aspiring ballplayers don’t join accounting firms.

I’ve got a problem with my eye and the doctors said it would hold me back. I blew a few tryouts for minor league clubs my junior year, and, well... He stopped mid-sentence, keeping his eyes glued to the infield, even though a ball had been hit hard to left field.

A little later, he asked if I’d played any ball, and I told him about the big game in seventh grade at Roy H. Mann Junior High. The team’s leaders stuck me in right field thinking nothing would be hit there – they were wrong. A ball was hit to me in the ninth inning. Of course I dropped it, allowing the other team to score the tying and winning runs. I wasn’t too popular for the next few days at school – not that I was popular on any other days. After that game I decided to end my baseball career.

During the second week, the recruits seemed to cluster in small groups. Kavi and I liked each other, and he and Ken were friends – they’d interned together for the same client. Marc and I were also becoming friends. Just before we left Pennsylvania, the four of us agreed to meet Saturday night for dinner so we could compare notes and celebrate the start of our careers. That night would be June 30, the beginning of a great tradition.

*****

Kavi drove me home after our twenty-fifth Iron Horse dinner. It wasn’t the most pleasant drive I’ve ever experienced. He hadn’t said more than two words by the time we crossed the George Washington Bridge, not counting his screaming match with the driver of a yellow cab. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we’d been listening to some decent music, but he kept fidgeting with the radio, and as we exited the bridge he turned it off and said, I’ve got a bad feeling.

You mean about the call from Ukraine?

It’s the last thing I need right now.

You didn’t seem interested in talking when Marc bombarded you with questions, so I kept quiet about it.

You think he’s mad at me?

No. I’m sure he understands.

I’ll call him this week. I may need his help with this one.

Kavi let off some steam, and we were still talking about it when we arrived at my apartment building. Stepping out of the car, I offered whatever help I could give, knowing full well there wasn’t much I could do.

Chapter 2

Marc pulled into his midtown Manhattan parking garage, stopped the car and cut the engine. Looking into the rearview mirror, he adjusted his tie – three times. He grabbed his brief case from the passenger seat, handed the car keys to the attendant and headed to his office.

It was Wednesday morning, the start of what was expected to be a busy day. One of Marc’s clients was acquiring a major pharmaceutical company and was meeting at his firm’s offices to assign the closing work. He was responsible for the tax aspects of the deal, a typical assignment for him. He focused on bona-fide transactional work and avoided the aggressive tax shelter activity that had made other practitioners wealthy.

During the meeting with the client, Marc’s assistant handed him a message from Kavi. Call ASAP re Ukraine. Marc thought the urgency seemed strange since Kavi had been so reluctant to talk just two days earlier. Marc left during the first break in the action and returned the call.

Kavi said, We just hired you guys. Don’t be surprised if you get a call from Phil Mentz. Phil was one of Marc’s partners at Bartman & Cross, a litigator with corporate fraud expertise.

Why didn’t you call me first?

Sorry, but things have been moving fast. Debra’s on her way back from Nikolaev with a full trip report addressed to our general counsel, Steve Halpern. You met him before, remember?

Of course.

He’s taking control of the work and he agreed that Phil should be involved. We’re meeting tomorrow morning to get organized and I’d like you to be there. Steve wasn’t sure why I wanted a tax guy to sit in, but I insisted.

Marc made a note on his calendar. I’m glad Steve hired us, but...

He didn’t hire you, I did. He just thinks it was him.

I understand.

So what’s with the ‘but’? Are you worried about Steve? He’s an asshole, but he knows what he’s doing.

That’s not it. We’ve been hired to represent ADG, and that means our first loyalty is to the company and not to you. There may come a time when your interests and theirs conflict.

You’re worried about nothing. This has nothing to do with me. It’s the company I’m worried about.

Marc glanced at his watch. I’ve got to go, but let’s meet at the Iron Horse after work for drinks.

Marc stopped by the office of Kevin Baker, an associate who worked for Phil. Marc wanted to get prepared for the ADG meeting and, more importantly, to prepare Kavi. He asked Kevin for a copy of the summary of relevant laws and other background material. Scanning the summary, he noticed a highlighted paragraph:

Under the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act of 1977 (FCPA), it is illegal for a US company to pay foreign officials for the purpose of obtaining or keeping business. It is also illegal to make payments to a third party, while knowing that all or a portion of the payment will go directly or indirectly to a foreign official.

When Marc arrived at the Iron Horse, Kavi was there and had commandeered a table. Marc took a seat and planted a copy of the legal summary in front of Kavi. Here’s your homework. He caught the attention of the waitress and ordered a beer.

Kavi flipped through the pages and tossed it to the side. I’ll look at it later. Don’t want to spoil my drink.

It’s not that bad.

I’m glad you’ll be with us tomorrow. Phil has a great reputation, but it’s you that I trust.

Tell me what happened yesterday.

I’ll go back to Monday night. When I got home I called Charles Goodman. I figured our chairman and CEO needed to be in the loop early. Then Steve and I met yesterday and agreed that he should take charge of the work. Of course that was his idea, but I didn’t object.

What did he say when you suggested that I get involved?

I didn’t exactly suggest it. You’ll be involved, period. Of course he said it was a waste of money and you wouldn’t have anything to add. Kavi grinned. He protects his turf, but I can handle things even with him in the lead.

It was a smart move getting Debra back. She’s too junior to handle this.

The waitress returned with the beer. Kavi watched as she walked away. It’s too bad Debra couldn’t wait a day to make the call. I mean, Monday night of all nights. I couldn’t enjoy our dinner after that. Next year, I’ll make sure I can’t be reached.

We’ll turn off our phones.

Can you believe it was our twenty-fifth?

Hard to believe, isn’t it? I can remember our first one just like it was yesterday. But it also seems like it was another lifetime.

Kavi nodded. I know what you mean.

Before I forget, there’s something I need to ask you before tomorrow’s meeting. Who heads up the business unit that handles the Nikolaev project?

It’s a French guy, Maurice Granville. He’s actually quite good. He leads our Far East merchant power group, one of our most profitable units. They’re big, but you know ADG. No division makes up more than ten percent of our size.

What does he say about Debra’s findings?

He’s as surprised about it as we are. He wanted to fly in to meet with us, but I told him to hold off for now. We can tie him in by phone if he’s needed.

Marc took some time to think – apparently too much time, because Kavi held out both hands. Marc asked, Can you trust the guy?

I’ve had no problems with him in the past. Kavi studied Marc’s face. What are you getting at?

If there were bribes in Ukraine, do you think he knew about them?

Not likely.

It’s his group.

I know, but he’s got lots of people working for him.

You should consider it a possibility.

Why would he want to do it? His group’s built more than twenty plants. All finished on time, on budget and producing power as we speak. And aside from Nikolaev, there are two other construction projects in the works, and they’re doing fine.

How does he handle himself? Politically, I mean.

I’d give him high grades. Kavi leaned forward. Look, he’s done well, but that’s because his unit’s done well. There’s been talk of moving him up to corporate, not that he’s any competition for me.

Ok then, let’s say he had nothing to do with this. The company might still blame him, and if they do, who knows? He may try to hurt you because you uncovered this mess.

I doubt it.

Just keep your eyes open and be careful.

Kavi laughed. If I forget to do that, I’m sure you’ll do it for me.

*****

Marc rode a main elevator as high as it would go. He got off on the 38th floor and cleared security. From there he took a private elevator up to the 50th and top floor. The ADG executive conference room was located on 50. That’s also where Kavi and four other executives maintained offices.

Marc stepped out into a reception area and inhaled deeply – the cherry walls and fine wood furniture smelled expensive. An assistant escorted him down a hallway to the conference room, her high heels clinking against the Italian marble floor.

Entering the room, Marc said hello to Steve whom he recognized – Marc smiled, Steve didn’t. Marc then introduced himself to Debra Jennings. He’d pictured her as a short, heavy-set woman, but standing in front of him was a tall, shapely, auburn-haired beauty. He and she both smiled.

Kavi and Phil joined the group. Kavi looked at Debra, let out a laugh and said, I wasn’t sure you’d make it to the office.

She smiled. Would you have let me stay home?

Kavi said to the others, She misses me when she’s away too long.

Steve said under his breath, I think it’s the other way around.

Phil asked Debra, Did you get any sleep on the plane?

More than I normally get at home. She laughed. I have a 4 year-old boy who likes to keep me awake, and then there’s my husband.

"Perhaps you like to travel?"

She glanced at Kavi. "Not where he sends me. Turning back to Phil, she said, I almost got killed on my way to Nikolaev from Kiev. We had one of those four-seaters and the pilot didn’t know what he was doing. I think he wanted to fly upside down."

Kavi made his way to a table stocked with assorted refreshments. He poured himself a cup of coffee and joked about one of his trips to Ukraine.

Marc noticed that Steve was getting impatient. Kavi must have noticed it too, because he glanced at Steve and said, Getting antsy?

I’d like to start, if that’s ok with you.

It’s your ballgame. Go ahead, big guy.

Steve winced. At 5 foot 4 and 130 pounds, he might have had success as a jockey. He opened a folder and took out five copies of a memo stamped ‘Confidential – Attorney Client Privilege.’ It was Debra’s trip report. After passing copies around, he gave a brief introduction, maintaining his focus on Phil, save for a glance at Debra’s legs from time to time.

Marc tried to listen and read at the same time. According to the memo:

Nikolaev is an industrial city located about 250 miles south of Kiev. During Soviet times, access to the city was restricted because of its strategic importance to the defense industry. It’s now open and has recently received large inflows of foreign capital due to its beneficial location and the expected 2004 entry of western neighbors into the European Union. In 2001, our Far East merchant power group (FEMP) organized a consortium to build a 660 megawatt gas-fired power facility in Nikolaev. ADG owns 60%, with the remainder split between Kenton Aluminum, an international aluminum company that’s building a nearby smelter, and OPIC, an export financing agency of the US government.

The memo also indicated that construction was expected to last two years at a cost of $630 million. The revised estimates reflected a six-month delay and a cost overrun of $70 million.

Marc stopped reading when Steve asked Debra to speak.

To get the required licenses, the Ukrainian government forced us to spend at least 10 percent of the project costs on purchases from Ukrainian firms. The project runs this through one firm, Vasylko, Kiel and Bohdanko, or VKB. They’re middlemen. We deal with VKB and they deal with the local suppliers.

Phil asked, How’d you find them?

I believe they found us. She laughed. Of course we checked them out.

Steve said, Apparently we should have checked further. He glanced at Debra. Continue.

A few months back, it was becoming clear the project was over budget and behind schedule.

Kavi said, That’s unusual for FEMP.

We asked our local folks and found out the overage was due to VKB, but that made no sense. We’d budgeted $75 million for them yet they were coming in at nearly twice that. We could understand if the specs had changed, but they hadn’t. We held up some VKB payments, and then we learned of hiccups with our environmental certificates.

That was bullshit, Kavi said. We’d received all clearances from the government before we broke ground. Something was fishy, so I decided to send Debra to Nikolaev. We were getting nowhere with phone calls and emails.

Debra said, We cleared it with Maurice Granville...and my husband. He loves getting rid of me.

Marc asked, Did Maurice try to discourage you from going?

Not at all, although he didn’t seem concerned about the problems. I was a little surprised by that.

Steve said, "I’m sure he was concerned. He just didn’t wear it on his sleeve."

Debra continued. The first few days I reviewed cost details with the local accountants. After that, I spoke with the construction supervisor and some of his crew at the site. Nobody could explain how the original VKB estimates could be so far off. Not only did they not have answers, but they seemed surprised that I was asking questions. And when I said I wanted to be put in touch with VKB, they said no.

Phil said, That’s strange. They had to know you’d follow up.

You’d think so, but it seemed as if they expected me to back off, as if I was just going through the motions. Of course I didn’t back off. She looked at Kavi. If I did, you’d leave me in Ukraine.

Kavi said, Damn straight.

Finally, at dinner, people opened up. One person said VKB was a necessary cost of doing business. He said I should accept their numbers and go home. Another person warned me about VKB. He told me some stories about what they’d done to people, although he said they probably wouldn’t hurt me because I’m an American. He said they’d just screw up the project.

Phil said, You didn’t mention any names in your report. I’m talking about the people who spoke to you about VKB.

Debra glanced at Kavi before responding. I’d prefer to keep that confidential. They were speaking off the record.

I can understand why.

Not that it really matters. A lot of people spoke and they repeated pretty much the same story. VKB pulls the strings and we need them. If they want more money, we have to pay it...though one person said something I didn’t hear from the others. He said VKB is controlled by ex-Soviet KGB agents and they’re affiliated with Russian organized crime groups. I’m not sure we should believe that.

Phil asked, Did anyone say VKB funnels funds to government officials?

Debra laughed. No, but they didn’t have to. If what they said is true, then people in the government must be getting paid. How else could VKB get away with this?

Marc asked, What happened after the tell-all dinner?

I went to the hotel and called Kavi. Of course the phone was screwed up and it took me hours to get through. I thought maybe someone had messed with it. I was getting a little worried there for a while.

Kavi said, Your timing was perfect. You screwed up my dinner.

Next time I’ll check your schedule.

Marc said, There’s something I don’t understand. He leaned across the table toward Kavi. How could Maurice not know anything about this?

Before Kavi could reply, Steve said, Let’s not make any accusations.

I wasn’t accusing him. I’m just asking the question.

"We didn’t know anything, and we still don’t. We’ve got a lot more work ahead of us before we do. Steve turned to Phil. That being said, I don’t think we need to publicly disclose any of this. Do you agree?"

Nodding, Phil said, I think that’s right, but I’d tell the board of directors, and your auditors.

Kavi shook his head. "Not the auditors. We need to learn more before we even think about doing that."

It’s best to keep them in the loop.

You think so? Kavi laughed. We tell them now and they’ll jump all over it to cover their ass. We’ll spend more time dealing with them than anything else. He glanced at Steve. I don’t want this getting out of control.

Steve said, Nobody does, but if we wait to tell them, that’s when they’ll overreact.

You don’t know them like I do.

Phil said, You don’t want them to be the last ones to know.

Kavi asked, Who else are you thinking about telling?

The other project owners. I think you have an obligation to do that. I’d also tell the Justice Department.

You’re kidding.

I think it’s the smart move.

"I’m glad you think so. Kavi looked at Marc and smiled. Turning back to Phil, he said, We’re a $300 billion company. Nikolaev’s peanuts in the scheme of things."

I understand. The problem is we’re talking about criminal acts so the dollar amounts don’t matter.

"Possible criminal acts."

Steve said to Kavi, We should listen to him.

I’m listening.

Think about it,