Chapter 13 Diversification of Plants and Animals
DIVERSIFICATION OF PLANTS AND ANIMALS
*Samantha*
If you had told me last year that come next March I would be driven everywhere in a black luxury car by an entourage of personal bodyguards while getting remarkably close to finishing my PhD while also juggling meetings with my team of lawyers and having weekly bonding calls with my maternal grandfather, then I would’ve been impressed with the wildness of your imagination.
But there I was, sitting in the back seat of the Mercedes, two guards up front, one in the back with me, phone pressed between shoulder and cheek, having just left work early after making significant progress in the lab today, talking to my grandpa about my father’s decision to declare bankruptcy over fifteen years ago, and debating whether to take notes so I could share them with my legal team later.
Tara parked as I searched for a pen and piece of paper, finding neither in the spotless back seat.
“Oskar Kristiansen was the one who convinced him to file for bankruptcy? Are you sure?” I asked, not bothering to hide my skepticism.
He exhaled, and I imagined him rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Yes, I remember this very clearly. Your mother called and told me that Lawrence was going to file for bankruptcy to avoid lawsuits. Genetix customers were suing your parents personally for the data release, for the—the—it was the customers whose information was sold by Genetix. Your father obviously had nothing to do with the data being sold, but since his signature was on the purchase agreement, he was being targeted with the individual civil lawsuits. That’s why he filed for bankruptcy.
That Kristiansen guy convinced him to do it as a preemptive measure to protect you and your mother from all the scrutiny. ”
“I had no idea.” I kept my voice low as I exited on the same side as my guard.
Briefly, I wondered if Andreas knew this.
We hadn’t actually spoken since Monday, but he’d added to his list of personal faults via text message.
He’d pointed out that he was a picky eater and that he was hard to buy gifts for.
This last bit made me remember the stack of signed Bobby Fischer books sitting in the bedroom closet of my new apartment.
The ones I hadn’t given him, but couldn’t bring myself to sell or donate.
For the record, I hadn’t texted him back. I’d left him on read.
Pretty queen being petty. Admittedly, a big part of me was sore that he STILL hadn’t apologized.
Stepping out, Tara and the other guards fell in around me, forming a four-person wedge as we crossed to the elevators.
Grandpa’s tone grew more gentle. “Your mother was really upset about it and I think that’s about when she began to suspect that man wasn’t on their side.” His use of “that man” arrived with an undercurrent of loathing.
We waited for the elevator, and I could feel Tara’s sidelong glance.
What my grandfather might not have known was that the actual fraud charge against my father had almost nothing to do with the sale of the datasets.
Yes, the datasets being sold did cause an avalanche of civil lawsuits against my father.
But what got him indicted was the “misrepresentation of value” in documents sent to the SEC and the IRS as part of the Genetix IPO filing.
Essentially, someone (*cough* Oskar Kristiansen *cough*) had built a paper trail leading to my dad as the scapegoat for inflating the data’s worth after it had already been sold, knowing this would trigger an investigation.
Overestimating, i.e., misrepresenting, the value of a company’s assets is part of what brought down Enron.
Elevator doors dinged. Tara’s finger hovered a millimeter from the button that would take us to Kaitlyn’s floor until we all piled in.
“We’re getting on the elevator, if I lose you that’s why.” I leaned against the stainless steel wall. “Thank you so much for this information. This is really helpful.”
“Anytime. Let me know if you have more questions.”
“I will. And, just to let you know, this last week, I spent three days at Genetix, getting copies of emails and internal messages between Henrik, Tobias, and their father.” Since the shareholder meeting, I’d been given carte blanche access to the internal Genetix files.
I hadn’t known Henrik was an intern under my father’s department—for a period of six months before my father was accused of fraud—until three days ago.
“I’ve sent everything to my legal team. They’re going to scour it for leads. ”
“Good. That’s good.” I could hear the smile in my grandpa’s voice. “You know both your parents were against the IPO filing, right? Your father wanted to keep the company private. So, why would your father inflate numbers for the SEC in the initial paperwork? That’s madness.”
“Right. Good point.” And I knew for a fact my dad would never sell customer data. That also made no sense.
My grandfather was not finished. “Have you found any information about that doctor fella who claims your father died of a heart attack?”
I closed my eyes for a second. I’d let slip last week that Diya had helped me pinpoint issues with my father’s death certificate.
“You mean the medical examiner who lost his license? We’ve been looking for him, but I think I have to hire a PI firm.
I can’t find him through any of the simple online searches and I haven’t brought it up to my legal team.
I want them focused on the fraud charges. ”
Tara’s eyes met mine in the reflection of the elevator doors. She didn’t say anything, but her eyebrows lifted.
Grandfather gave a tired-sounding sigh. “Keep me updated. I’m . . . interested.”
I smiled into the phone. “Honestly, it’s like the more I find out, the less sense it all makes.”
“When ‘the facts’ don’t make any sense, it means they’re not the truth.” I could tell he was proud of me for chasing the answers.
Lifting my eyes to the floor readout, I knew my time was up. “I have to go. Thank you for the information. We’ll talk next week?”
“Don’t be a stranger, Sammy. You know I love you.”
“Love you too, Grandpa. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Tara let the rest of the elevator ride play out in silence, but as soon as the doors slid open and we exited the elevator, she leaned in close and murmured, “Do you need help finding someone?”
I stopped mid-step, thrown. “Yes. Why? Is this something you can help me with?”
“Not me personally,” Tara said, glancing down the length of the hall as we resumed walking. “But I have a friend who can help. If you text me the information, I’ll put them on it.”
“Thank you so much. That would be great.” What a relief.
Tara touched my arm as though to slow me down and leaned closer.
“Just a reminder, the temporary night-shift arrangements I made for you ended yesterday. I know you didn’t use the guys past Sunday night, but I don’t have the option of calling them back in.
Just wanted to make sure you were aware.
So, if you spend the night here tonight, I don’t have anyone scheduled to stay past nine. ”
“Yes. Absolutely. Totally fine. I have no plans to spend the night here. Thank you for keeping me safe last weekend when I was here twenty-four hours a day. It really helped ease my mind.”
Tara released my arm and gave me a short nod of acknowledgement.
Our four-person wedge advanced down the pristine, windowless hallway toward the VIP wing.
I let myself drift a step behind, texting Diya for the full name and last-known address of the rogue medical examiner.
I had the information on my laptop, but figured the sooner I sent it to Tara, the better.
Diya responded in under ten seconds, as if she’d been waiting for me to ask this very question. Then she sent a second message.
Diya: I can’t come over tonight. Unexpected family in town. Will you be okay? Nakita can come in my place.
My steps faltered for a millisecond as I fought a flicker of worry. I’d sleepwalked twice this last week, but Diya had been spending every night with me. She’d ensured I didn’t do anything dangerous, like leave the apartment, which unconscious me tried to do during the second incident.
But what could I say? No. I won’t be okay. Please ditch your family and babysit me while I sleep.
I typed out a quick response.
Sam: I will be fine! I bought handcuffs (kidding). Have fun with your family!
Almost at once, she responded.
Diya: No. You need someone to stay with you. Accept Nakita’s help! Just tell her the cone of secrecy applies.
I knew Diya was correct. Resigned, I texted Diya and let her know I would ask Nakita, then I messaged Nakita, asked her to observe the cone of secrecy, and asked her if she could come over and spend the night just in case I tried to sleepwalk.
She didn’t respond right away, so I tucked my phone in my bag.
Kaitlyn and Martin were still at the hospital full-time. Kaitlyn’s parents were in their apartment with Joey and I didn’t feel comfortable asking if I could sleep on the couch as a deterrent for my unconscious brain’s mischievousness.
I’ll . . . figure something out. I missed December, back when I’d stopped sleepwalking, was getting eight plus hours of sleep, and receiving orgasms every night and morning. Good times.
Rounding the last corner leading to Kaitlyn’s suite, I nearly smacked into the unexpected wall of dark-suited bodyguards posted outside her door.
Backing up a step, I counted at least four—three men with the builds of disgruntled linebackers, and a woman who looked unassuming yet incredibly intimidating at the same time.
They stood ostentatiously at parade rest, not even pretending to blend in.
One of them—bald, but not in a way that suggested hair loss so much as preemptive scalping—held up a hand. “Can’t go in, sorry.”