Todd asked, “Do you admit that you own or control eight law schools?”
“I don’t admit or deny anything, especially to you,” Rackley snapped. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Now that’s a good question, Todd thought. As his many aliases blurred together, he often caught himself trying to remember his current name.
Strayhan laughed sarcastically and asked, “Do you happen to have any proof?”
Mark reached into his cheap attaché and removed a sheet of thick paper, twelve inches square. He unfolded it, then unfolded it again, and slid it across the table. It was a condensed version of Gordy’s wall, the grand conspiracy, with Hinds Rackley’s name all alone in the top box and the maze of his empire flowing below him.
For a second or two, Rackley looked at it with little curiosity, then picked it up and began a casual perusal. Strayhan leaned over for a closer look. Their initial reaction would be revealing. If Gordy was right, and they were convinced that he was, Rackley might realize that they were on his trail and had the proof. He might nitpick here or there, or concede the truth that he owned or controlled the swarm of entities. He might also deny everything and threaten to sue.
He slowly placed the chart back on the table and said, “Interesting, but not accurate.”
Mark said, “Okay, care to discuss the inaccuracies?”
“I don’t have to. If you publish a story based on this little flowchart, you’ll be in serious trouble.”
Strayhan added, “We’ll sue for defamation and hound you for the next ten years.”
Mark shot back, “Look, you’ve already tried the litigation scare tactics, okay, and obviously that’s not working. We’re not afraid of all your big talk about suing us. We own nothing. Fire away.”
Todd said, “True, but we’d certainly like to avoid getting sued. What, exactly, do you find wrong with our research?”
“I’m not answering your questions,” Rackley said. “But any half-assed reporter should know that it’s illegal for me or anyone else to own a law firm that I’m not a member of. A lawyer cannot be a partner in more than one firm.”
Mark replied, “We’re not alleging ownership in the four law firms, only control. This firm, for example, Ratliff & Cosgrove, is run by your friend Marvin Jockety, who happens to be a limited partner in Varanda Capital. The other three firms have similar relationships. That’s the connection, the control. And you use the four firms to hire graduates from your law schools at attractive salaries. Your law schools then advertise these wonderful jobs to entice even more unsuspecting kids to enroll and pay your jacked-up tuitions. That’s the scam, Mr. Rackley, and it’s brilliant. It’s not illegal; it’s just wrong.”
“You guys are all wet,” Strayhan said with another laugh, but one with a slight trace of nervousness.
Rackley’s cell phone beeped and he removed it from a pocket. He listened and said, “Okay, step in please.”
The door opened immediately and a man entered. He closed the door and stood at the end of the table holding some papers. Rackley said, “This is Doug Broome, my chief of security.”
Mark and Todd looked at Broome, who did not acknowledge them. Broome adjusted his reading glasses and said, “Can’t find anything on Mark Finley and Todd McCain. We searched all night and all morning, nothing. Not a single article, or blog, or book, or report anywhere online. There’s a Mark Finley who writes about gardening for a newspaper in Houston, but he’s fifty years old. There’s another one who blogs about the Civil War, but he’s sixty years old. There’s another one who once wrote for a campus newspaper in California, but he graduated and became a dentist. Beyond that, nothing. For Todd McCain, all we found was a guy in Florida who writes for a local magazine. So, if these two claim to be journalists, then their careers must be off to a slow start. As far as the names, there are 431 Mark Finleys and 142 Todd McCains in this country. We’ve checked every one and nothing matches. And most interesting of all, the two driver’s licenses presented at the security desk downstairs are from the District of Columbia. Surprise, surprise, they’re both fake.”
Rackley said, “Thanks, Doug. That’s all.” Doug left the room and closed the door.
Rackley and Strayhan were both grinning. Mark and Todd kept their cool. At this point, there was no turning back. Mark managed to control his nerves by maintaining the attack. “Very impressive! That’s some outstanding work.”
“Really impressive,” Todd chimed in, but both were thinking of bolting for the door.
Rackley said, “Okay, boys, with all credibility shot to hell, why don’t you tell us who you are and what’s your game?”
Mark said, “If you’re not answering our questions, then we’re not answering yours. Who we are is really not that important. What’s important here is that our little chart is close enough to the truth to expose your scam and embarrass the hell out of you.”
Strayhan demanded, “You want money? Is this extortion?”
“No, not at all. Our plans haven’t changed. We’ll sit down with the right reporter and hand it over. There’s a lot more in the file. For example, we have testimony from former associates of your law firms who feel as though they were used as propaganda. We have statements from former law professors. We have all the data regarding the rotten bar exam pass rates of your graduates. We have the data that clearly shows that you greatly expanded your enrollments at the same time the Feds opened the Treasury to thousands of unqualified students. We have dozens of testimonials from these students who graduated with tons of debt but couldn’t find jobs. The file’s pretty thick, and it will make a helluva splash on the front page.”
“Where is this file?” Strayhan asked.
Todd reached into a shirt pocket, removed a thumb drive, and casually bounced it across the table. “It’s all right there. Read it and weep.”
Rackley ignored it and said, “I have contacts with the Times and the Journal. They assure me they know nothing about this.”
With great relish, Mark smiled at Rackley and said, “Bullshit. Arrogant, preposterous bullshit. You expect us to believe that you know everyone at these newspapers, and not only do you know them but they trust you enough to pass along inside information? What a joke! And this from a man who is notorious for dodging reporters. Come on, Mr. Rackley.”
Strayhan said, “Well, I certainly know the attorneys for the Times and the Journal, and you can bet your sweet ass they want no part of a defamation suit.”