Criminally Innocent

Lloyd Reman

Description

Corruption, backstabbing and lies converge in a gripping financial thriller that finds an honest man and his falsely accused friend considering criminal acts
Carl Messina, a Manhattan-based partner at a global accounting firm, has achieved financial success, yet he considers himself a failure. An involuntary bachelor at forty-three, his only lasting relationship with a woman involves his mom.
As Carl tells us, he would never have made partner were it not for his best friend of twenty-five years, Kavi Chander. Kavi, a poor teenager when he emigrated from India, is now the chief financial officer at ADG, one of the largest companies in the world.
During an anniversary dinner, Kavi gets word of a scandal at ADG. Weeks later, it’s pinned on him. He’s indicted for securities fraud – maximum penalty, life in prison. Although he’s innocent, he’s petrified at the thought of facing a jury. He explores alternatives, including those that aren’t legal.
Carl tries to help, leading him to Switzerland, India, and Victoria Richards, a sexy yet troubled lawyer with a penchant for manipulating men. Only one thing is certain: Carl’s life will never be the same.
In this gripping financial thriller, corruption, backstabbing and lies converge as an honest man considers criminal acts to save his friend from being punished for a crime he didn’t commit.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 14 avril 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781491725047
• Langue: English

Extrait

CRIMINALLY INNOCENT
LLOYD REMAN


CRIMINALLY INNOCENT
 
 
Copyright © 2014 Lloyd Reman.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Originally published under the title The Iron Horse Club.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
iUniverse
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.iuniverse.com
844-349-9409
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
 
ISBN: 978-1-4917-2505-4 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-2506-1 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-2504-7 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014902601
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 08/24/2022
CONTENTS
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
About The Author
CHAPTER 1
I don’t think I can tell this story without first mentioning the Iron Horse Bar & Grill; after all, that’s where I was when the trouble started. Located in midtown Manhattan, it’s an unpretentious place. The food’s decent and the prices are reasonable. The thick wooden tables and chairs could use an upgrade – they’ve received more than their share of wear and tear. Someone once said the place is haunted. If that’s true, the phantom must have played baseball. The dark paneled walls of the Iron Horse are covered with baseball paraphernalia from the early 1900s, including a giant photo of Lou Gehrig swinging the bat, just above a sign proclaiming the Iron Horse goes yard .
I’ve been to the Iron Horse more times than I can remember, but I’ll never forget June 30, 2003. It was a gorgeous evening and the place was packed – you nearly had to scream to be heard. The four of us were there, huddled at a table near the back. We’d brought our uniforms – suits and ties – although our jackets were off, our ties were loosened and our shirt collars unbuttoned. The smell of beer permeated the air above our table; we’d knocked over a bottle or two. We were making the most of the occasion, celebrating the 25 th of our annual June 30 Iron Horse dinners.
I raised my bottle to make a toast, but before starting, a cell phone buzzed. Kavi Chander stood up and crouched against the wall, holding his phone and covering both ears. After a few grunts, he smashed his fist against the wall and said, “Someone’s going to jail, but it won’t be me.” He hung up and glared at the crowd.
That put a little damper on things. It was supposed to be a night to appreciate how much we had accomplished, and each of us had done well, although Kavi had done the best. He was the chief financial officer of American Dynamics Group, or ADG as they were known, one of the largest corporations in the world. He was also being groomed for the company’s top spot, yet none of the success had gone to his head; a down-to-earth kind of guy, he was as comfortable in a bar as he was in a boardroom. He was also my best friend.
Kavi sat down and grabbed his beer, clutching it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He eased his grip and took a sip. In response to our stares, he provided an explanation. Debra Jennings, ADG’s assistant controller, had called from Nikolaev, Ukraine where she’d been sent to get information about delays and cost overruns for a construction project. She’d found evidence ADG may have illegally bribed Ukrainian government officials.
Marc Abrams, a partner with the prestigious law firm of Bartman & Cross, fired away with questions. “Is she reporting through you or your legal counsel? Who knows about her work? Is her information reliable? Can it be controlled?” Although Marc didn’t look intimidating, his style could quickly put you on the defensive, even though he had your best interests in mind. We wouldn’t have been surprised if one of his clients slugged him.
Kavi dodged the questions, and Marc deferred his inquiry for another day. A round of beers later, Kavi made light of the situation, doing an impersonation of Marc as a prosecutor cross-examining an 80-year-old grandmother. Kavi was great at things like that. We always said he’d have been a comedian had he not chosen to become a CPA.
Ken Tanner, the member of our group who never met an attractive woman he didn’t like, returned his focus to a woman at the bar. She’d held his attention for a good portion of the evening, and she must have scrambled his brains, because while looking at her, he said, “Companies lose up to half their market value within weeks of making a scandal public.” He turned to Kavi. “What’d your stock hit today, $65?”
I wasn’t sure how Kavi would take that, but he smiled and said, “What’s next, statistics about CFOs getting fired?”
“You have to be a CFO to worry about that in the first place, so don’t complain.” Ken led the tax department at NV Industries, a multi-billion dollar company, though it wasn’t as big as ADG. If you didn’t know what he did for a living, you’d never have guessed. He stood a shade under 6 feet tall and had muscles on his muscles. He’d been a baseball prodigy during his college years, and with a little luck could have made it to the majors. Still looking like a ballplayer, he had a way of attracting women, doing what he could to encourage them even though he was happily married, or at least we thought he was.
After a while, we got back to our burgers and fries, and my thoughts turned again to what we had accomplished over the years. As for me, Carl Messina, I was the only one of us who had remained with the firm. Making partner in the world’s largest accounting firm was a pretty decent accomplishment for an Italian boy from Brooklyn, but I didn’t think I measured up to the others, and it bothered me that I was the lone bachelor, despite all my efforts to join the married club. Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about women that night, and I suspect no women were thinking about me.
Getting together for our annual dinners was a fabulous tradition, and we considered ourselves fortunate that it had started in 1979 at the Iron Horse. Though it could never be mistaken for a four-star restaurant, we could afford the prices with our then salaries of $13,000 per year, which at the time seemed like all the money in the world. As the years passed and our paychecks grew, we talked about switching to a better place, but tradition always won out.
*****
“Carl, please report to our offices at 1251 Avenue of the Americas, conference room 515, by 9 am on Wednesday, June 13, 1979.” The firm had sent the letter to my college dorm a few weeks before my May 16 th graduation. Although it included instructions for my first day of work, it sounded more like a subpoena and it scared me half to death. I knew enough to earn my degree in accounting, but had no idea what to do at the firm. What scared me more was the thought that all the other recruits would know exactly what to do.
I would be one of 35 people who’d start that day. Another 70 would get their start later that summer. We’d be that year’s recruits for the New York office of Winston Knight & Co., one of the “Big Eight” accounting firms, as they were known at the time. It would later merge with one of the other Big Eight firms to become Winston Walker & Co., the largest accounting firm in the world. The plan called for in-house training followed by two weeks of offsite sessions. After that we’d be assigned to audits and other projects.
It was June 13, my start date, when I first spotted Kavi. They’d arranged tables in the form of a large rectangle in the conference room so everyone could see everyone else. At 6 foot 6, 250 pounds, Kavi was hard to miss. I also remember noticing Ken, and how the women periodically glanced his way.
I took some comfort that most of the others looked nervous, but Kavi seemed as if he’d been working for years. When the session started, he had the first question, asking what criterion the firm used to assign staff to specific audits. The only question I had was how to get to the bathroom.
Kavi approached me after our first break and said, “You look a little nervous.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Let’s put it this way, if I were your pen, I’d be dizzy by now.”
“I didn’t realize…” I put my pen down.
“Don’t worry. Most people are anxious the first day.”
“What’s your secret?”
“A few of us spent time as interns, and that helps.”
He told me a funny story about one of the partners, and then the training session resumed. I felt better as the session progressed, but when we broke for lunch, I got nerv