Chapter 2 - The Meeting Nobody Expected
Everett recovered quickly.
Men who spent decades building their reputations rarely surrendered them without a fight.
He straightened his tie and extended his hand.
“Mr. Calloway. If I had known who you were, this unfortunate misunderstanding would never have occurred.”
I looked at his hand without taking it.
“That,” I said, “is precisely the problem.”
His hand remained suspended between us.
Margaret looked toward the employees gathering behind the teller stations. “Everyone, please return to work.”
Nobody moved until Everett barked the same instruction.
Then the lobby slowly came alive again, although every employee seemed to be listening.
I turned to Noah.
“Would you like to wait outside with Ms. Monroe while I speak with Margaret?”
He shook his head.
“Can I stay with you?”
“Of course.”
Tessa approached cautiously.
“Mr. Calloway, I'm sorry about what happened. I offered to help you, but I didn't stop him.”
I appreciated her honesty.
“You tried to do the right thing. Don't punish yourself because someone else made it difficult.”
Everett interrupted.
“This is becoming absurd. Margaret, take Mr. Calloway upstairs. We have a meeting to prepare for.”
“No,” I said.
He blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I haven't agreed to attend your meeting. I'm here because my son needed a restroom. Your employee has already apologized. You, however, seem to believe a potential investment gives you permission to treat people differently.”
“I made an unfortunate judgment.”
“You made several.”
I glanced toward the five-hundred-dollar bill.
“Have someone put that in an envelope. It belongs to the bank's charitable fund, if you have one. Otherwise, donate it to a local shelter.”
Everett's jaw tightened.
“You're telling me what to do with my own money?”
“Not at all. I'm telling you what I will do with mine.”
I turned away.
Margaret followed me toward the elevators.
“Grant, please. We need to talk.”
“We certainly do.”
Inside the elevator, she pressed the button for the executive floor. Noah stood between us, looking at the illuminated numbers.
After several seconds, Margaret crouched slightly to speak to him.
“Your father is a very important man, Noah.”
He considered that.
“He's important to me.”
Margaret looked at me, and something in her expression softened.
“That may be the most important thing I've heard all day.”
The elevator doors opened.
Sterling Valley's executive floor overlooked the Susquehanna River. Through the windows, the afternoon sun illuminated bridges, office buildings, and the distant hills surrounding Harrisburg.
I had studied those views during six weeks of negotiations.
I had also studied the bank's financial statements.
And I had discovered something troubling.
Sterling Valley wasn't merely struggling because of higher operating costs or a few bad commercial loans. Its problems ran deeper. Several large loans had been issued to companies connected to members of the board. Some borrowers had missed payments for months, yet their accounts continued to be classified as healthy.
The bank's financial reports suggested everything was under control.
The underlying documents told a different story.
“Has Everett seen the latest review?” I asked.
Margaret hesitated.
“Not the complete version.”
“Why not?”
“Because the preliminary findings weren't conclusive, and I wanted independent verification.”
“Have you completed it?”
She nodded.
“Last night.”
I stopped walking.
“And?”
She looked toward the closed conference-room doors.
“Someone has been hiding losses. I believe the amount may exceed eighty million dollars.”
Noah looked up.
“Is that a lot?”
“It is,” I told him.
“Then why would someone hide it?”
Margaret's expression became troubled.
“Sometimes people become so afraid of losing what they have that they make decisions that cost them everything.”
Noah absorbed that answer.
Then he asked, “Is that why Mr. Sloan was mean?”
Neither of us responded immediately.
I opened the conference-room door.
Everett was already seated at the head of the table. Three board members sat beside him, and a fourth was joining through a video conference.
He gestured toward the chair opposite him.
“Please sit, Mr. Calloway. Let's put this morning behind us.”
I remained standing.
“I'll put the incident behind me when I decide it has been addressed appropriately. Today, we're discussing your bank's future.”
Everett leaned back.
“Excellent. Then let's discuss the three hundred million dollars.”
I placed my portfolio on the table.
“Before we do, I have one question.”
He smiled thinly.
“Ask away.”
“Who authorized the loans to Meridian Ridge Holdings, and why were their delinquencies concealed?”
The smile vanished.
Margaret sat down.
One of the board members stopped turning the pages of his notebook.
Everett stared at me.
“Those loans are confidential.”
“Not from your CFO. Not from your auditors. And certainly not from the regulators.”
“Those accounts are performing within acceptable parameters.”
“According to which records?”
His face hardened.
“I will not have an outside investor interfere with internal management.”
I opened my portfolio and removed a single page.
“Then perhaps you should explain why the internal records disagree with the reports your board received.”
I slid the document toward him.
He didn't touch it.
For the first time, I saw something more dangerous than arrogance in Everett Sloan's eyes.
Fear.
Because the man who had thrown money at my son wasn't merely worried about losing an investment.
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He was worried that someone had finally found the truth.
And I suspected that truth had been hidden for much longer than six weeks.
