“Are you kidding?” Todd said, laughing. “They’ll love it because they can crank up the firm at a thousand bucks an hour. They want their clients to get sued every day.”
“You’re clueless, son,” Strayhan said, but it meant nothing. The chart had clearly rattled them, along with the fact that Mark and Todd were not who they claimed to be. Rackley shoved his chair back, stood, and took his cup to the coffeepot. Nothing in the way of beverages had been offered to the impostors. He slowly poured from a silver pot, added two cubes of sugar, stirred slowly, deep in thought, then returned to the table. He sat down, took a sip, and calmly said, “You’re right. It’s a nice front-page splash, but it’s a twenty-four-hour story because everything is proper and legal. I don’t cross the line, and right now I’m really not sure why I’m wasting my time explaining this to you.”
Mark replied, “Oh, it’s more than a twenty-four-hour story. By the time they flesh out the law school math and print the numbers that show you net about twenty million bucks a year from each of your eight schools, the story will have serious legs. Tie the money back to the federal treasury, and you’ll have a public relations nightmare that won’t end.”
Rackley shrugged and said, “Maybe, maybe not.”
Todd said, “Let’s talk about Swift Bank.”
Rackley said, “No, we’re tired of talking, especially to a couple of guys who use fake names and fake IDs.”
Todd ignored him and said, “According to your SEC filings, Shiloh Square Financial owns 4 percent of Swift, making it the second-largest stockholder. We think you own a lot more than that.”
Rackley blinked and recoiled slightly. Strayhan frowned, as if confused. Mark reached into his attaché case and removed another sheet of paper. He unfolded it once but did not slide it over.
From the grave, Gordy landed a final blow.
Todd continued, “We have a list of Swift Bank’s largest shareholders, about forty in all. Most are investment funds that own 1 or 2 percent of the company. Some of these funds are foreign and appear to be legitimate investments. Some, though, are offshore shells, fronts for other fronts that own pieces of Swift. Shady-looking names of companies domiciled in places like Panama, Grand Cayman, the Bahamas. They are almost impossible to penetrate, especially for a couple of non-journalists like us. We can’t issue subpoenas and warrants; we can’t tap phones and make arrests. But the FBI certainly can.”
Mark slid the second sheet of paper across the table. Rackley took it calmly and studied the chart. It was a continuation of the first one, with all the activity flowing under Swift Bank. After a few seconds, Rackley shrugged again, even smiled, and said, “I don’t recognize any of these companies.”
Strayhan managed to mumble, “Just garbage.”
Mark said, “And we’re not alleging you’re involved with them, you understand? We have no way of digging inside offshore companies.”
“I got it the first time,” Rackley said. “What do you want?”
“Are you after money?” Strayhan demanded.
“No, and you’ve already asked that once,” Todd said. “What we want is the truth. We want you and your great law school scam exposed on page 1. We’re victims of it. We signed on at one of your diploma mills, racked up a fortune in federal debt, none of which we can repay because we can’t find jobs, and now we’re a couple of dropouts staring at a pretty dark future. And we’re not alone. There are thousands of us, Mr. Rackley, all victimized by you.”
Mark said, “The guy who drew those charts was our best friend. He cracked up and killed himself in January. There were several reasons, and plenty of blame all around. And some of it lies with you. He owed a quarter of a million dollars in student loans, money passed along to you. All of us got caught up in the law school scam. I guess he was a little more fragile than we realized.”
Nothing that registered on the faces of Rackley and Strayhan could even remotely be described as remorse.
Calmly, Rackley said, “I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”
Mark said, “A quick settlement of all six Swift Bank class actions, beginning with the one filed by Cohen-Cutler in Miami.”
Rackley raised both hands, held them in the air as if flabbergasted, and finally said to Strayhan, “I thought we were settling those cases.”
“We are,” Strayhan said, frowning.
Mark added helpfully, “Well, according to reports that the bank keeps leaking to the press, it is in the process of negotiating settlements, but that’s been the story for the past ninety days. The truth is that your lawyers are dragging their feet. There are one million customers out there who’ve been screwed by Swift and they deserve to be compensated.”
“We know that!” Rackley snapped, finally losing his cool. “Believe me, we know all that, and we’re trying to settle, or at least I thought we were.” He turned, glared at Strayhan, and said, “Find out what’s going on.” Then to Mark he said, “What is your interest in the litigation?”
“It’s confidential,” Mark said smugly.
“Really can’t talk about it,” Todd added. “Right now it’s almost 10:30 on Tuesday. How long would it take before the bank could announce a settlement for all class actions?”
“Not so fast,” Rackley said. “What happens to your story about the great law school scam? The front-page sensation?”
“Here’s the deal,” Todd said. “Tomorrow at 4:00 we meet with a reporter for the Times.”
“A real reporter?” Rackley asked.
“Damned right. One who can peel skin. And we’ll give him the story. If he runs it, and we have no reason to think he will not, then you’re the villain of the month. Worse, the story attracts the attention of the FBI, which, as I’m sure you know, is already hot on Swift’s trail anyway. The bit about the offshore ownership will be like throwing gasoline on a fire.”
“I get all that,” Rackley said. “Cut to the chase.”
“If Swift announces a full settlement within twenty-four hours, we won’t meet with the reporter.”
“And you walk away?”
“We walk away. You ramp up the settlement. Make sure the Miami class gets its money first, and when that cash hits home, we walk away. Not a word. The law school scam story is left for someone else to pursue.”
Rackley stared at them for a long time. Strayhan knew better than to speak. A minute passed, though it seemed like half an hour. Finally, Rackley stood and said, “The bank has no choice but to settle anyway. It will make the announcement this afternoon. Beyond that, I suppose I’ll have to trust your word.”
Mark and Todd stood, more than ready to leave. Mark said, “You have our word, for what it’s worth.”
“You can go now,” Rackley said.
37