Point of Contact

Bai pointed Paul to the file containing the general ledger — the controlling document that contained all other subledgers and accounting files pertaining to all financial and nonfinancial data of Dalfan Technologies. Paul’s focus was on the financial side. He opened up the first big file folder labeled “Assets.” There was a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it. But his mind was somewhere else. He sighed.

“Something wrong, Mr. Brown?”

“Any chance we can grab a cup of tea before we get started?”

Bai stood. “Follow me.”

* * *

Jack was looking forward to not being monitored by Lian or anyone else from Dalfan, but just as he sat down in his executive chair, there was a knock on his glass door.

Jack turned around. Crap.

“Feng,” the man said, offering a small, crooked smile of yellowed teeth. “I’m the vice president of Dalfan operations.”

Feng reeked of stale tobacco. He was the oldest employee in the building Jack had met so far. He wasn’t in the conference room earlier. He carried a tablet in his left hand.

Ryan stood and offered his hand. “Jack.”

“I’m here to give you a general overview of the corporation. We will review its organization, facilities, and personnel, and I will answer any questions you might have.”

Jack forced a smile. “Great. Let’s get started.”

Jack opened up the Dalfan desktop with his passcode fob as Feng tapped on his tablet. They spent the next few hours reviewing organizational charts, personnel records, operating budgets, and facility locations around the city — including an FBO hangar at nearby Seletar Airport. By the time they finished reviewing all of these documents it was lunchtime.

“Will you be joining us in the dining room?” Feng asked, standing.

“Not today, but thanks.” Jack stood, too.

Feng frowned. “That’s disappointing to hear. I’ll let Ms. Fairchild know.”

Of course you will, Jack thought. “See you after lunch.”

* * *

It had been a long first half of the day for Jack and Paul, but productive. Their biological clocks were still messed up and they were both beat and famished.

Jack half expected a fight from Lian when he confirmed that he and Paul wouldn’t be eating with the Dalfan employees, but instead she suggested a good local restaurant about ten minutes away.

Jack asked, “Will you be joining us?”

“I think you can handle the chili shrimp without my assistance,” she shot back. “But don’t be surprised if you have a few friends nearby.”

Jack offered to let Paul drive, but the taciturn accountant wasn’t interested in figuring out how to navigate on the wrong side of the road from the wrong side of the car, especially in a downpour. Ten minutes later they found themselves seated in a comfortable, low-lit restaurant populated by locals. They both ordered the house specialty, chili shrimp. For drinks, Jack went for the mango iced tea and Paul ordered a vodka tonic.

“So, tell me about what you found out,” Jack began, sipping his iced tea. He scanned the room. His eye landed on Park, Lian’s bodyguard, glowering at a menu, sitting by himself on the far side of the restaurant. No doubt there to keep an eye on them.

Paul frowned. “The first thing I found out was that my assistant is sticking closer to me than a remora on a manta ray. I half expected him to follow me into the john this morning.”

“You get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“More like handled. Friendly enough, don’t get me wrong. Happy to answer any questions I had. But the man had no interest in leaving me alone, even for half a second.”

Paul went on to describe the bulk of his research that day, mostly comparing tax filings against corporate reports going back over the last ten years.

“Everything lines up. It’s almost too good. Not one decimal point out of place. You know, sort of how an escaped fugitive might drive a little under the speed limit so as not to draw the attention of the traffic cop?”

“You think there’s a problem?” Jack waved a server over.

“Not necessarily. Only that the fact that the books are perfect — at least so far — isn’t proof that everything is on the up and up.”

The young server flashed her lovely smile. “Sir?”

“That man over there? By the window?” Jack nodded at Park, then pointed at the drink menu. “Send him one of these on me, will you?”

She giggled. “Right away, sir.”

Paul tapped his vodka tonic. “And another one of these, too, please.”

She nodded and scurried off.

“Sorry, Paul. You were saying?”

“I already said it. Everything looks good so far, but I’ll keep digging. What did you find?”

Jack outlined his research for the day, including going over the personnel files. “Just trying to get a handle on employee retention, hiring practices — the usual. Started digging into their benefits program, too. Turns out most of the senior management have stock options. They’re going to make out like bandits when Marin Aerospace swoops in and pays twice the current price per share.”

“No wonder those people in the conference room were so glad to see us today.”