Deadly Game Read online

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  About the Author

  Other books by R B Conroy

  Back Cover

  Deadly Game

  by

  R B Conroy

  CCB Publishing

  British Columbia, Canada

  Deadly Game

  Copyright ©2012 by R B Conroy

  ISBN-13 978-1-927360-26-2

  First Edition

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Conroy, R B, 1944-

  Deadly game / written by R B Conroy.

  ISBN 978-1-927360-26-2

  Also available in print format.

  I. Title.

  PS3603.O57D43 2010 813'.6 C2010-906050-4

  Additional cataloguing data available from Library and Archives Canada

  Original cover art design by Jinger Heaston: www.jingraphix.org

  Author photo by Julie DuBois: www.sunrisephoto.com

  Disclaimer: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Extreme care has been taken to ensure that all information presented in this book is accurate and up to date at the time of publishing. Neither the author nor the publisher can be held responsible for any errors or omissions. Additionally, neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Publisher:

  CCB Publishing

  British Columbia, Canada

  www.ccbpublishing.com

  Acknowledgements

  Writing a novel takes time, patience, perseverance, and a little help along the way. A heartfelt thanks to all my friends and family for their support and encouragement. You have had a tremendous effect on my desire and motivation to write—your support means every-thing to me.

  My sincere gratitude to my publisher Paul Rabinovitch, who is a bright light in the difficult world of book publishing. He is honest, precise, always on time and a joy to work with. Much appreciation to my talented friend, Jay Overmeyer, for his laser editing. The man can find a needle in a haystack. And last, but certainly not least, with love to my wife Cheryl for her unwavering devotion to my work. Without her guiding hand throughout this project, this book, as well as my other novels, would never have been written.

  Dedication

  In memory of Stan Fox—a caring person, a dear friend and sorely missed.

  Chapter 1

  Branch closings, budget cuts, and staff reductions—it had been another long day for Alex Crane. Exhausted, he spun around to catch a glimpse of the setting sun through the ceiling high windows behind his desk. He soaked up the tranquil scene for a few moments and then looked below at the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument in the center of downtown Indianapolis. He watched as a city worker in a green uniform stabbed at tiny pieces of litter and dropped them in a canvas bag—preparing “the circle”—as the locals liked to call it, for another day. An annoying beep from his direct phone line interrupted this relaxing end-of-day ritual. He reached back and lifted the receiver just in front of the fifth and final ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Did you forget?”

  Alex rubbed his forehead. “Why…uh no. Dinner with the Everett’s tonight.” He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he remembered the dinner date with their neighbors.

  There was a pause on the other end of the line, a long, exasperating pause which screamed at Alex, I know you didn’t remember, but I’m not going to say anything. “We’re picking them up at eight; it is now seven thirty and you have a twenty-five minute commute.”

  “It’s past rush hour; I-65 should be running pretty well. I should be home in fifteen or twenty.”

  “Hope so,” Nicky sighed. “Hmmm….there it is again.”

  “There’s what again?”

  “That car.”

  “Come again?”

  “That car with dark windows, it just drove by again for the third time.”

  “Lots of cars have tinted windows and there are a couple of houses for sale near us. Probably lookers.”

  “Guess so.”

  “Gotta run babe, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Anxious to leave, Alex slid his last file into the center desk drawer, typed some morning instructions for his secretary and exited the room.

  Dinner with the Everett’s was important; arriving home late again would not be well received by his very punctual wife. When Nicky said eight, she meant eight. It was a big deal for her to be late and Alex knew it. He hoped traffic would be light on Interstate 65. Parts of the road had been under repair for over a year so bottlenecks, even at this time of day, were common.

  “Hello Will.” Alex smiled warmly at the security guard who was standing with his ample backside pushed against the open elevator door.

  “How’s the big boss man tonight?”

  “Just fine, thank you.”

  “With all these late hours, your wife’s gonna think you’re havin’ an affair or somethin’.” The stout man’s belly shook from laughter.

  “She knows better, Will. Besides, with you here watching me, how could I get away with anything?”

  “You’re right; I probably would have to tell her. That Nicky is one sweet lady,” the good humored sentinel snickered.

  Will was part of the security agreement Alex negotiated with his bank’s board two years ago after an extortion attempt against one of his senior officers. Still chuckling, the guard stepped out of the entryway, laying his hand against the inside of the door.

  “I pushed the main floor Mr. Crane. At this time of day you probably gonna ride all twenty-two without stoppin’.

  “Probably so, Will. See you tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  The door closed; the elevator jerked to a start, shuddered briefly and then gained speed on its way to the bottom. As Will predicted, Alex reached ground level without stopping. He waited anxiously for the accordion-like door to rattle open. When he stepped out of the tiny cubicle and start
ed to walk through the quiet corridor toward the parking garage, he saw someone hovering in the shadows near the elevators. The dark figure suddenly moved toward him.

  Alex glanced at the security station–it was empty. The guard must have stepped out for a moment. Alone, and without security, Alex suddenly felt very vulnerable. Fists clenched, he prepared to confront the approaching figure. Alex didn’t carry a weapon or mace; such things were unnecessary in the usually secure building in the center of downtown Indianapolis. A pointed object was protruding from the man’s right hand as Alex braced for the coming assault. Suddenly, the night sensor on the security lights kicked-on, illuminating the lobby area. He instantly recognized the man with folded papers in his hand; he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “Strom! I didn’t expect you to be here at this time of the evening. You had me back on my heels for a minute there.”

  “Well…uh forgive me Alex, I didn’t mean to alarm you. But Barnes told me you often worked late and I was at a United Way meeting at the Hyatt, so I thought I would run over and see if I could catch you before you left. When I entered the lobby and saw the elevator start from the top floor, I knew it must be you so I found a spot on that bench over there and waited for you to come down.”

  Strom Winslow was a big, imposing man with thick gray hair and bushy eyebrows. He had a large, round face and a broad flat nose. His wide mouth seemed to curve into a smile with the smallest of efforts. Strom was the owner of the largest beer distributor in the Indianapolis area and also on the board of the Midwest Consolidated Bank, making him, in effect, one of Alex’s bosses.

  Alex composed himself and wiped his sweaty hands dry with a handkerchief before vigorously shaking Strom’s outstretched hand. “Well I’m glad you came over my friend, it’s always good to see you.” He looked intently at Strom, begging an explanation for his unsettling appearance.

  Strom continued, “Alex, the reason I’m here is that I think there is something we need to talk about and I thought it important that I talk with you tonight, before the board meeting in the morning.”

  Alex knew what was coming. Still coping with the Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac banking crisis of a year earlier, their losses in the bond market the past year had been enormous. To complicate matters further, the individual mortgages that made up the huge bonds were still going sour at an alarming rate and needed to be replaced. It had reached the point where the Midwest loan originators could no longer make new mortgage loans to their customers fast enough to replace the bad ones inside the bonds. The situation was still worsening and the bottom line was suffering. So far, the board had stopped short of blaming Alex, choosing instead to assign responsibility to greedy bond managers and an over-stimulated mortgage market. But something told Alex that this assessment was about to change.

  “I only have a few minutes, Strom. Nicky and I have a dinner date this evening and I’m already running late.” Alex wanted Strom, prone to rambling, to get right to the subject.

  “Sure, Alex, I’ll keep it short. It seems that Barnes O’Brien, and some of the other board members, are concerned. Our bottom line is not what it should be and our stock holders have been getting kind of nervous lately. They’re starting to ask questions. Blaming subprime mortgages and an overheated market isn’t getting it anymore.”

  “Uh…huh, so now it’s “let’s blame the president”. Is that what you’re trying to say, Strom?” It was Alex’s style to get right to the point. He knew more about the banking business than his collective board put together. He didn’t like them making judgments on such matters, especially when such analysis disagreed with his.

  Strom didn’t appear to be surprised by Alex’s sharp response. “Well, not entirely Alex. The board appreciates all you’ve done over the years for Midwest; it’s just…uh they don’t like your stance on the bailout money. They….”

  Alex interrupted, “Are you saying they don’t want me to pay back the twenty-five billion?”

  “Chairman Barnes feels we could use the money; our losses are still growing.”

  “That’s blood money, Strom! There are all kinds of strings attached to it. Besides, I can borrow the money cheaper on the open market right now. I thought I explained that to everyone at the last meeting. I thought everyone was on board with the payback.”

  “They were at first, but they feel you may be jumping the gun. Like I said, our bottom line doesn’t look that good and we are continuing to get pressure from our stockholders. Barnes, and the board, feels we need to take another look at the situation.”

  Alex shook his head, “Barnes and the board or just Barnes?”

  “Dunno.”

  Alex could feel himself becoming agitated. After a long day at the office and running late for dinner, this was the last thing he wanted to discuss. But Strom had always been a loyal ally in his fights with the board and he had made a special effort to come and warn him before the morning meeting.

  He took a deep breath, “Listen Strom, I appreciate you coming over here this evening, I really do. But we can work out of this thing without Government help. We never should have accepted that bailout money—the Government so innocently calls TARP—in the first place. We need to pay it back!” Alex shook his head, “TARP—it sounds like something you throw over your boat or the back of your truck.”

  “Borrowing is tough now Alex, I’m not sure you can get the money we need on the open market and this money is already in the bank.”

  Alex grimaced, “The Government makes everything sound so easy with their bottomless pockets. And you’re right Strom, borrowing is getting a little tougher, but we can still survive. I can still borrow the money. Our commercial paper is holding its own, and our mortgage delinquencies are better than they were a few months ago. We are on our way to working our way out of this crisis. We’ll have a few bad quarters and then we’ll be back on track. The worst thing we can do is stay in bed with the Feds. They will own us! They’re already telling us what rates to charge, who we can and can’t lend to and what programs we can offer. It won’t be long before we’re like every other Government agency—broke and totally dependent on Uncle Sam. It will basically be the end of Midwest Consolidated as we know it.”

  The old man looked directly at Alex without speaking. Then he shook his head and smiled, “I knew you’d say that, Alex.” He laid his big hands on Alex’s shoulders. “I’m with ya, pal. I don’t want those clowns anywhere near our bank. I was just testing you a little. You can count on me.”

  “Thanks Strom, I’m going to need all the help I can get at that meeting tomorrow.”

  The big man’s hands fell to his side. “I’ve been lobbying some of the weaker board members to see it our way.” He shot Alex a hard stare. “But if they hold tough, it could get ugly. You know Barnes, he never saw a Government program he didn’t like and he can play plenty rough when he has to.”

  “I know Barnes can be a real pit bull at times, but that money has been nothing but a monkey on our back. We need to get rid of it so I can manage this bank the way I want to.”

  Alex smiled reassuringly. “We’ll fight the good fight and let the chips fall where they may.” He lifted his hand high and shared a hand clasp with his loyal friend. “See you in the morning Strom.”

  “Okay my friend, and don’t forget your flack jacket. You’re going to need it!” Strom hurried through the front door; Alex turned and resumed his walk to the parking garage. Once inside the garage, he picked up the pace and ran toward his car. The only sound in the expansive garage was his car keys and loose change jingling in his pocket.

  He slid his keys from his front pocket and unlocked the car door. He dropped into the bucket seat, started the engine and hurried out of the nearly empty garage. Alex had spoken to Strom with great confidence, but deep inside he was worried. It had only been in the past few years that his salary and compensation package had risen to the level of other banking consortiums the size of Midwest. He and Nicky had recently built a new house in the ex
clusive Zionsville area near Indianapolis and were just starting to enjoy the good life. With so much at stake, he knew his decision to pay back the bailout money could put his job in jeopardy. Chairman Barnes had threatened as much. Alex rued the day he asked the successful attorney to be on his board—he had been a thorn in Alex’s side ever since. Charming, when need be, and a natural politician, Barnes always seemed to find a way to sway the board’s vote in his favor on big decisions. The previous fall he worked behind the scenes to convince the board to accept the bailout money over Alex’s very strong objections. And once again, it appeared as though the board was leaning his way on the payback. Alex was also concerned that Barnes, now his Chairman, might use this crisis to move Midwest toward a possible change in management, one that he was certain would not include him. “We need to be more flexible and open-minded”, he so often stated during heated debates with Alex. The bank’s stock, which had been as high as twenty-nine, was now trading at just under three dollars a share. This would be a terrible time for the bank to buy Alex out; it would be a financial disaster for him and his family. He had to find a way to sway the board to come around to his way of thinking.

  Chapter 2

  “You were kind of preoccupied at dinner tonight, honey. You weren’t yourself,” Nicky said probing her husband.

  “I was hoping no one would notice.” Alex gave a quick honk to the Everett’s as they stood by the front door of their house waving good-bye. He smiled meekly at his attractive wife. She looked stunning in her black pantsuit and silk blouse. A delicate diamond necklace hung around her bare neckline and was accentuated by two small diamond earrings. Her dark brown hair was pushed back on the sides revealing her classically beautiful face. And more importantly to Alex, beneath that lovely exterior, was an equally lovely person. Kind and caring, she was a dedicated wife and mother. Alex loved her more than anything in the world.

  “Don’t worry honey, you covered yourself well. I’m sure the Everett’s didn’t notice a thing.”