Doom to the Damned

By J. Clay Evans

When James Dennison took a job as an auditor for the worlds largest accounting firm, the most excitement he expected was the occasional paper cut. It was the first day of what he thought would be an exciting new life in one of the worlds most popular vacation destinations. What James doesnt know is that there is trouble brewing in paradise.

He wakes up bound to a chair in a dark, unfamiliar room, his head pounding. Terrified and confused, he knows that his dream of skirting safely through life as just another normal human being has come to a screeching, painful, and frightening halt.

Pressured into taking a bribe to ignore fraudulent accounting performed by his client, James has a crucial decision to make. When forced to choose between his firm, career, friends, and the only person who has offered him assistancethe most powerful drug dealer in the cityhis troubles only intensify.

James quickly finds himself embroiled in the heavily scrutinized and rarely understood world of external auditing. Hes about to learn that greed and corruption can exist behind any palm tree and that there is no such thing as a victimless crime.

Will he choose to do what is ethicalor what will keep him alive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Nov 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781458218100

J. Clay Evans

J. Clay Evans received his Master’s of Professional Accountancy from West Virginia University in 2004. For three years, he worked as an audit associate for PricewaterhouseCoopers, LLP. He has been a licensed CPA since 2007. A native of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, he now lives in Orlando, Florida.

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Copyright © 2014 J. Clay Evans.

Cover Design by Tolan Goetz

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ISBN: 978-1-4582-1809-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1811-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1810-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014919082

Abbott Press rev. date: 11/13/2014

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

To Governor Rick Scott and all his supporters, may you one day wake up from your celebration of ignorance.

To all my friends and family who have had to endure my longwinded stories over the years, here’s another.

-JCE

Today, American markets enjoy the confidence of the world. How many half-truths, and how much accounting sleight-of-hand, will it take to tarnish that faith?

-Arthur Levitt, Former Chairman of the SEC

CHAPTER 1

ALL I COULD HEAR WERE whispering voices on the other side of the locked door that was holding me captive. This was absolutely no way to be spending my Friday happy hour, with my limbs tied and body bound to a highly uncomfortable wooden chair. If it wasn’t for the occasional draft coming from underneath the door, I would’ve thought I was in a basement (albeit improbable, given this was Florida and I had yet to come across a basement anywhere in the place I affectionately referred to as Satan’s Bed due to the never-ending heat wave).

I should’ve been more intimidated than I was, but that could be attributed to my youth and level of anger. Most people don’t enjoy being held at gunpoint, especially when leaving work on a Friday afternoon with happy hour plans, Orlando Magic tickets, and lots of clubs waiting on you to spend top dollar for their shit-vodka pours. How much did I care about having a pistol pointed at me in the parking garage? I believe I said something like Point that at someone else and, yeah, go fuck yourself while you’re at it.

My comment must not have gone over well, because I don’t remember much until coming to a bit later, with the back of my head throbbing. I need to learn how to take a complete inventory of all gang members in future confrontations, I thought. I planned on there being a lot of future confrontations, since I was an accountant and everybody knows how danger lies around every corner for Certified Public Accountants! All joking aside, I heard myself saying out loud, who the hell were those assholes, and what the hell do they want from me?

After a few moments, my head began to feel a bit clearer, and I could interpret some of the chatter outside the door. All the voices were unfamiliar, but they all seemed argumentative to the point of anger.

What the hell is all of the commotion out there? I yelled out from the confines of my musty-smelling chamber. I have a terrible fuckin’ headache in here, and I’m feeling quite neglected! What kind of hospitality is this anyway?

I waited. Nothing. Only the same banter back and forth between at least three men.

At least bring me a drink and some cigarettes! It’s Friday afternoon, for fuck’s sake, and I have to work in the morning and this is wearing into my social life! I screamed at the top of my lungs. This must have done the trick, because the doorknob began to turn and the door was pushed open with amazing force, revealing the silhouettes of two broadly built men, one wearing a Fedora and a grin, and the other appeared to not have any hair on his head. One of them flipped on the light, momentarily blinding the shit out of me.

Goddammit, man! A little warning would’ve been great. Do you know how—

That’ll be enough out of you, Jimmy, the bald one said sharply. What a mouth this kid’s got, huh? he said to his partner, while nodding his head in my direction.

My name is James. Only my friends call me Jimmy.

The bald one stared at me with an intensity I have never seen before in human eyes.

"I personally don’t give a fuck what you want to be called. I’ll call you whatever the hell I want to call you. It would be in your best interest to shut your mouth for the next few minutes and maybe we can get something done and have you on your way. Simply nod if you agree. I do not want to hear another fucking word! Got it?"

I nodded. The thug wearing the Fedora had a slight grin on his face, but there appeared to be no emotion behind it. This could’ve been the slug that got me from behind in the parking garage, because I would’ve remembered either that stupid-looking Fedora or the lifelessness in his eyes. The whole scene in the garage happened too fast for me to remember for sure, but from the looks of this guy, there was no way he was capable of understanding the workings of a gun.

The bald vagrant continued to speak, "You’d think the first words out of your mouth would be ‘Who are you?’ or ‘What do you want?’ but you’re apparently a bit unusual. Maybe you’re just plain stupid. I guess having a master’s degree doesn’t give someone common sense or street smarts. I’m glad I didn’t waste my time on any of that shit, but enough about that. Let’s talk about why you’re here.

"We are… well, business partners with one of your clients. They hired us to present you with a little proposition. A deal that’ll make you a few extra dollars if you decide to cooperate. Are you still with me?"

Yes. I’m with you, but can you have your goon-friend stare at the wall instead of at me?

Oh, I apologize, Jimmy. Is he intimidating you?

I wouldn’t say he’s intimidating me as much as he’s creeping me out. And please, can you call me James?

The bald one took a few steps closer to me and leaned over to ensure I saw the red veins in his eyes. It was obvious he was carefully thinking about each word he was about to say. "Donny’s creeping you out and that’s making you uncomfortable? He’s my brother and a damn fine human being, and you will refrain from mentioning him in any derogatory manner from here on out. Are we clear, you little fuckin’ faggot-ass accountant?"

I wanted to smack the shit out of that hairless head of his, but being my arms were bound tightly behind my back, all I could do was reply. Very clear. I won’t say another word about him. Now, let’s get back to the money conversation.

He took a deep breath and exhaled while simultaneously positioning upright and taking a few steps back from me as he spoke. Okay, I’m glad we have at least that much understood. My business partner, your client, would like me to offer you twenty-five grand simply for not being their auditor anymore. That’s all you have to do. Talk to whomever it is you need to talk to, just quite the job, and the next time you see us, we will have twenty-five large, in cash, in hand, to give to you to spend however you’d like.

I looked up at the ceiling without saying a word. Hell, I currently had four clients that I was splitting time between—which one could he possibly be talking about? I needed to ask the right questions because I didn’t want to piss off the big bloke again. But how was I supposed to know which of my four clients was the right one? Could it be the high-profiled, family-run cash cow—NASCAR? I doubted it; they had no one to report earnings to except the bank. Plus, the entire family was already loaded beyond belief, so there weren’t any pressures or incentives to bribe an auditor.

So, what about one of the two public companies I audited—Tupperware and Disney? In my mind, neither company was a plausible option. I would’ve detected trouble with Mickey Mouse months earlier, prior to their annual earnings release, as they didn’t have the same year-end as most companies in the world. Tupperware had been on a constant rise in the marketplace since their changes in business strategies, but I didn’t spend enough time on their engagement to have a material impact on their audit. If it were any of these three companies, I would’ve expected a better payoff than $25,000 to keep my mouth shut. That was fucking chump change to them! Besides, companies as large and powerful as any of these would probably find a better way to deal with a pesky auditor. Paying someone off would be too risky and a waste of time. To top it all off, there was no way in Hell they would have these two dipshits working for them as business partners.

After careful consideration of all the known facts, I rolled my head back from facing the ceiling and smoothly spoke without a hint of sarcasm. "For a second, pretend that I’m not the smartass I was earlier and I’m speaking to you now as a normal human being. I have numerous clients at the firm and I just want to make sure I know which one you are referencing. Twenty-five thousand dollars is $25,000, no matter whom or where it comes from, but I don’t want to resign from the wrong engagement. I’m not sure how much you know about what I do for a living, but withdrawing from an engagement is not something a senior associate does on a regular basis. I hope you can strongly consider my need to have this vital information."

Old baldy was staring deeply into my eyes when I presented my dilemma, and I knew he was taking me as seriously as I was now taking him. We came from opposite worlds, but I felt we were finally approaching some common ground—getting the deal done so we could both move on with the rest of our lives.

I guess at some point I need to trust your intentions, Jimmy, he finally said. Our business partner is DANCO. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more than that. Don’t bother asking me why you’re being asked to do this, who our direct contact is, or any other stupid questions that’ll get you into more trouble than you’re already in.

DANCO? I whispered to myself. I must’ve been hit a lot harder than I thought, because I was having trouble coming up with a reason why anyone would pay me a fucking dime, let alone twenty-five grand, to go to the office the following day, meet with Todd Tolbert, the manager on the DANCO engagement, and tell him some bullshit story about how I don’t feel that DANCO is a client that interests me anymore. Yes, Todd, I understand that this is a highly inconvenient time to be bringing up such a thing when the audit is nearly finished. And, yes, I understand I am responsible for finding another senior associate to take over the job. And, yes, I understand that this will be adequately reflected on my annual evaluation. Todd was going to just love the shit out of me for this one! It was Todd who first took me under his guidance when I joined the firm two years before. And it was Todd who brought me on to some of the more fun and relaxing engagements that the Orlando branch of the firm had to offer in the smaller metropolitan area. I never liked to think that I owed anyone for anything. I’d worked my ass off ever since I could remember in order to place myself into positive situations, but I did feel I had a certain level of loyalty I needed to maintain towards Todd. Besides, he was a Canuck and what had Canadians ever done to us?

"I believe you, ugh, sir, when you say I could be in even more trouble if I don’t cooperate. And I know you mean it when you say you don’t want me to ask another question, but I do have just one more question if you would humor me for a second?" I felt my heart starting to beat harder now because I wasn’t in the business of negotiating. I was never the marketing and sales type. As a kid, I couldn’t even ask my grandparents to buy fundraiser candy from me; I would rather eat my shoe. But somehow I reached deep down inside and posed a question I was certain would send the bald fuck into a tirade.

The thug nodded cautiously at me while his brother, Donny, drooled. Go ahead, Jimmy. Ask away.

Well, I’m thinking, if your business partner is willing to spend twenty-five grand on me to do absolutely nothing except quit a job, then they’d have absolutely no problem going up to $100,000 to keep me out of their hair?

You’ve got some balls kid, the follicly-challenged one said grinding his teeth, but lucky for you, 100K is my spending limit. You have yourself a deal. Now, today is Friday, and from my understanding, you’re supposed to report to DANCO’s corporate office this coming Tuesday, correct?

I was dumbfounded with the quick response to my counteroffer, yet I still managed to shake my head in affirmation.

Well don’t be there on Tuesday, or any day after that, and we’ll bring you 100K in cash.

"So it’s that simple? I quit and you bring me 100K? How do I find you to collect? I know your business partner has the cash, I’ve seen all of their bank statements, but how can I trust you?"

Jimmy, my boy, we found you the first time, and we’ll find you every time we need you after that. You just need to worry about getting off that job, and let us take care of the rest, understood?

I nodded my head and let out a silent sigh of relief. Okay, can you untie me now? My friends are probably on their second or third bar by now. My cell phone has been vibrating non-stop.

No problem. And with that, Donny began walking towards me and pulled out a blade about the size of my head.

What the fuck is he doing? I yelled towards the bald thug. "You’re gonna let him cut me loose with that huge blade? Are you nuts?"

What did I tell you about insulting my brother?

That’s NOT an insult! I just want to have all of my fingers intact that’s all!

I heard a grunt from behind me and suddenly my hands were free. Now that wasn’t so bad was it? the bald one mocked.

No. I guess not.

I stood up and almost fell back into the chair due to the intense rush of blood to my wounded head. I touched the back of my head and felt the large knot that was growing there. The two brothers were standing in front of the door and looking intently at me, forming a blockade out of the dank room. You’re free to go. Don’t let us get in your way.

So, would you be so kind as to direct me to an exit?

I gave a quick look around but didn’t see another exit. What the hell did they want me to do now? I felt I had earned my freedom. The thought of going to jail for being associated with those jackasses crossed my mind. In my short twenty-seven years of life, the only thing I knew for certain was that the truth always comes around at some point or another.

I decided to walk calmly towards them and, acting as the Red Sea in front of Moses, they parted, allowing me to move into a small reception-type area. Which way is out? Or, maybe give me a ride? I don’t even know where I am.

The bald bastard began laughing with his entire body, while his Fedora-wearing brother mimicked his every movement. What’d you say to me earlier today in the parking garage?

I think I said ‘Point that at someone else,’ right? They both continued to laugh but in a more sinister timbre now.

"You did say that, but what did you say after that?"

I rolled my eyes and muttered, I told you to ‘Go fuck yourself’.

The laughing halted and the bald one, with a simple, omnipotent smirk said, Exactly.

CHAPTER 2

I TOOK ONE STEP OUTSIDE and immediately realized I was on the wrong side of the train tracks – west of Downtown Orlando. I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful that it was still daylight so I could hopefully avoid a run-in with a neighborhood local or to be scared as shit, since my white skin was easily visible to all passersby. I contemplated reaching into my pocket to call a cabbie I had on speed dial, but I doubted he would be willing to come that far out of his normal territory to pick me up.

I decided I had no other options and having already wasted two minutes in thought, if I didn’t act immediately, who was to say I would still be around in another two?

I placed the call and after three of the longest rings of my life, Barnes, the cabbie, answered. Jimmy? Isn’t it a bit early in the evening for you to be callin’ me? I don’t even think the game starts for another hour or so?

Cut the shit. There’s no time to talk. I said, practically jumping at him through the phone. "I need picked up immediately! I’ll meet you off of OBT on 29th Street. Please move quickly."

Where the hell are you?

"I said ‘off of OBT on 29th’!"

"I know what you said. What the hell are ya doing over there, and what’s in it for me?"

I started to cross the old Orange Blossom Trail, or OBT as it was more commonly called, to head for the shelter of the only place I knew of in that area – the towing company. With every step I took, my gait widened and my steps quickened with urgency – half out of fear and half out of agitation at Barnes, who wasted precious time and could’ve already been there.

Look, Barnes, do I not always take care of you? I said in the calmest voice I could.

Absolutely, Jimmy.

Well, if you want that to continue, then you’ll come pick me up at the fuckin’ towing company, now!

Holy shit man. I’ve never heard or seen you this crazy. I think you’re really losin’ it. You need to take a deep breath and take a look to your left.

Barnes was right; I was losing it. I felt like I was spinning out of control, yet my feet appeared to not be moving at all anymore. I did as Barnes instructed and looked to my left where I found that cocky son of a bitch, sitting with his ass on the hood of his cab, carefully sliding his cell phone back into the pocket of his warm-up pants.

Well, aren’t you in some kind of rush or something? I’m sure your boys are waitin’ for ya at Whiskey Dicks, he called out to me, as I sprinted towards the cab

I jumped into the front seat without saying a word. Only after I shut the door behind me, did I feel I could breathe, but how long until the anxiety would return? At that one moment in time, I really didn’t give a shit about the future and wished there was a way to shut my brain off.

Thanks Barnes. Yes. Whiskey Dicks, please.

Barnes dropped me off in front of Whiskey Dicks a hair past seven o’clock, and I rushed through the front door to find my friends sitting at the bar three in a row, all staring in different directions. Smoke (whose real name I cannot reveal here for legal reasons, or at least that’s what he always told us and we believed his legal babble because, well, he was a lawyer) nursed a draft beer of whatever was probably on the happy hour special list as he watched the Magic pregame show on the Sunshine Network. My friends called him ‘Smoke’ because that was the color of his hair (they were a highly creative bunch). My other two friends, Mike and Garrett, were both focusing all their attention on their phones doing who-knows-what. Mike, in a fashion which had become somewhat of his trademark, was multitasking by playing on his phone while simultaneously rambling off the highlights of his day of chasing down the sale of the year into the apathetic ears of Smoke and Garrett. I sometimes thought that not even his mother listened to him anymore, but she had thirty-five years of honing her skills of tuning him out. I took Mike for who he was and loved him to death for it. I loved all those guys for that matter, because I knew they would always have my back, no matter how guilty I was or how heavy the crime.

I took the open seat next to Smoke, and without taking his eyes away from the TV, he took a long sip from his beer and said, Well, Jimmy, I thought you were gonna stand me up like I did to my wife last night. Except I know you wouldn’t do that because we’re guys and that’s what we do, right? He turned his head towards me with a huge grin and we both started laughing. Smoke then tugged me hard on my shoulder. "How was your week? Are you as glad as I am to see this shit end and for the weekend to begin? I tell ya what, I shouldn’t be this hungover for it only now being Friday night, but those damn winetasting events the wife always drags me to on Thursday nights are getting the best of my old ass."

Shut up, ya little bitch, I said. You know damn well your ‘old ass’ can out drink any young punk who walks into any bar in Orlando – sans me of course. Smoke gave a sly