Jake pulled out his wallet and took out six twenties. “You get dinner delivered tonight. Something special. Make sure to buy flowers, from Phoebe and me.”
Nanci made a gesture, as though pushing away the money. “Oh, Jake. You already do too much. Mom and I would never have made it this far without you.”
“It’s you who makes the difference to me. You and everyone here—you’re the rocks of JPE.”
Nanci stood and hugged him. “We love you. You’re our hero!”
Hugging her back felt like squeezing a pillow, but God bless Nanci and all the rest of them. This dusty warren of offices acted like a tonic. After one last squeeze to her shoulder, Jake made his way to Charlie. After a perfunctory knock on the open door, he walked in.
“Read the paper?” Jake asked.
Charlie picked up a copy of the New York Post from the table behind him and rattled the paper. The words “Wall St. Bloodbath” spread in death-like letters across the front page. “I read it.” He grinned wide, showing the full length of his Chiclet-huge teeth. “You won’t be able to sign them up fast enough now.”
“Solomon already got a call from the bozos at Cook and Baylor,” Jake said. “I swear they fancy themselves British lords. Meanwhile, they’re begging for more. No more having to sweeten the deal for them.”
Jake couldn’t stand those horsey-set assholes, acting as though they were doing him a big favor by throwing business his way. They were feeder funds same as Gallagher & Graham, fattening on his kickbacks like lice, while presenting themselves as Einsteins of Wall Street.
“Blood’s in the streets,” Charlie said.
“Fuck the blood. Marrow is showing.” Jake took the leather guest chair. The guy’s office appeared neat as his own, with stacks of periodicals on the side table lined up in perfect order. For someone who had barely finished high school, Charlie worked his ass off to keep up. He subscribed to every magazine and paper with a connection to finance, inhaling the words as fast as they arrived. “We have our work cut out for us. Get your pen.”
Charlie kept notes in a small black leather binder. Jake thought of asking him the eventual landing for those small sheets of three-hole punched papers, but he filed the thought for future follow-up.
“The first thing we gotta do is put out the statements,” Jake said. “Timing couldn’t be better—we were set to mail them out tomorrow anyway.”
“How do you want them to look?” Charlie asked.
Jake leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He crossed his ankles and ran over scenarios. A fast infusion of cash was important, but the endgame meant keeping to his script. “Smart, dexterous, edging on miraculous without going over the line. Conservative enough to appear almost bank safe, agile enough to move every second. And showing how we take full advantage of every computer assist out there without being ruled by machines.”
These lines were nothing particularly new, but Charlie hung on to his words as though hearing them for the first time. He pointed to the three phones on his desk. “I turned off the ringers. Let them sweat a bit.”
One phone was a direct line for big fish such as Louis Klein. Jake had already talked to him this morning—one of the few clients with whom he spoke directly about business. The second was for their feeders and corporate accounts. The last, Charlie used for nonprofits and foundations, such as the Jewish Guardian of the Heart Fund.
Jake tapped the paper. “Talk to Solomon, and he’ll work on the numbers. All set?”
“Almost.” Charlie picked up his Marlboros, worrying the box like a good luck charm, opening and closing the top, letting the sour odor of unsmoked tobacco escape. Only a disaster of tidal wave proportion would ever have Charlie smoking in front of him.
“I got to ask you something,” Charlie said. “It’s probably nothing, but I got a strange call this morning. A reporter.”
“Reporters will be climbing up our ass with the news.”
“Her questions were different.”
“Different how?”
“She wasn’t asking what or how we lost, but why we didn’t.”
“Charlie, everyone asks for the soup recipe.”
“Sure, but she talked about running numbers to see how we do it—not like we were cheating; more like she wanted to analyze how we can have miracles in the midst of disasters.”
“Give her the same line as always: it’s not a public business, et cetera, et cetera. All true. We’re just guides for these people. We’re not even on the radar of government alphabet agencies.”
“Something about her made me wonder.”
Now Jake sat forward, leaning on his thighs. “What’s up, Charlie?”
“Hey, you know me. I’m a believer. My cash is here same as everyone else in this office. I just wondered—”
“You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t think about your own wallet. Your family.”
“Solomon, Vic—we talk sometimes.”
He gave Charlie credit. The guy showed balls, coming to him like this. Staff had to wonder what the fuck he did with their cash, their paychecks, which they gave him like every other mark, using the Club and their Club profits like a checking account. They knew the statements were fiction but believed in the cash. They figured his scheme made them more money than stocks ever would, though God knows what plan they imagined.
“And?” He had to get out of there. Tension took over when he stayed in one place too long. He had to walk it off, buy a new shirt, a pair of cuff links, or a happy-ending massage.
“Where is it?”
Fuck him if he thought Jake would make this easy. “Where’s what?”
Now Charlie went far enough to drag a cigarette from the pack and tap it against the ashtray. “The money. Where do you keep it?”
Jake stood. “You already know too much, right? Deniability is an important factor. It’s my gift to you. Not that anything is illegal.” He shook his head slowly and calmly. “Far from it. Your future’s as safe as my grandmother’s grave. It’s just one of those simple plans nobody thinks of.”
He walked to the door, turning before he left for a parting shot. “And that, my friend, is the last time we speak about this. Either you trust me, or you don’t. Look around. Where the fuck do you think it all comes from? It’s me. All me. This takes everything from me. I count on you to make the small shit happen. I’ll make sure you and everyone else up here have the future of kings and queens.”
Charlie pushed back his chair and also stood. “Forget I said anything. Jesus, we know. We all know the world is resting on you.”
“And I know you all appreciate it. So go shtup everyone’s accounts, including yours.”
CHAPTER 20
Phoebe