Chapter Forty-Seven
Kwame
Sins of the Father
“Mr. Palmer, I know you asked not to be disturbed.” My secretary’s voice startles me out of my deep focus.
I’ve told her not to use the intercom like that unless it’s an absolute emergency. I hit the flashing red button on my desktop phone. “Then why are you disturbing me?” I snap.
Q4 reporting is in full swing and I’m busier than I’ve been since I started work here.
“You’ve got a visitor. I explained that you weren’t available. He said if you didn’t speak to him now, he’d send a subpoena.”
That makes me sit up straight. “Where did you say he’s from?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Ask him again.” I’m stalling because it doesn’t really matter. Subpoena power trumps my deadline for this brief. I close my laptop and begin putting sensitive documents into their files.
“He won’t say, sir,” she says in a low voice.
Shit. “Alright. Give me two minutes and then escort him in.”
I straighten my tie and use my phone to check for crumbs or food in my teeth and then shake myself out of it.
I’ve been away from criminal practice too long.
I’d forgotten how intimidating we could be.
Showing up unannounced and threatening subpoenas is how we establish our dominance.
Not even the most powerful people in this country are above the law.
Precisely two minutes later there’s a brief knock on my door before it opens. I stay seated when the man who made my battle-ax of a secretary stutter enters.
His eyes go to my closed laptop and he frowns. “Are you on your way out?”
“No. How can I help you?”
“I’m from the Department of Homeland Security. I’d like to discuss your application to the US Attorney’s Office for the District of Columbia.”
The hairs on the back of neck stand up. “I see.” He could have knocked me over with a feather. My stomach drops. “This seems…irregular,” I say.
“Highly. But, so are the circumstances that bring me here.”
“Okay.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what those circumstances are? Or do you already know?”
“I’m waiting for you to tell me. I’m not the one who showed up at your office.”
He strolls the perimeter of my office, peering at my diplomas and artwork.
I watch him and don’t react. He wants me to know he’s going to control the pace of this conversation.
But I know he’s here because he needs something from me, and I’ve got a hot date and a brief to finish before then, so I cut to the chase.
“If you don’t start talking in the next minute, I’m going to take you up on that subpoena you threatened. I’ll come to you. And when I find out who you’re trying to keep this visit a secret from, I’ll make sure they know of it.”
He chuckles. “I heard you were an asshole.”
“Only when necessary. You’ve got twenty-one seconds.”
He expels a harsh breath. “I guess I should get straight to it.”
“Please.” I wave at the chair and try to ignore the thundering in my chest and wait for him to drop the hammer.
He sits and looks down at the ground for a beat before he meets my gaze. “I have a friend at Secret Service and he does me a solid by giving me a heads-up when I need it. And today, he called about you. Your background check came back.”
“Okay?”
“How come you didn’t disclose your nine-figure net worth and the billions you’ll inherit?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up again and unease tickles my gut.
“Because that money is in an irrevocable trust that I don’t control. I get an income from it, and I disclosed that.”
“No one who worked with you at the LA prosecutor’s office knew either.”
“I didn’t know how much money my coworkers had either.”
His pale cheeks flush at my even reply. “Well, I can assure you that none of them are billionaires.”
I expel an aggravated breath. “I’ll have to take your word for that.”
“You can take it to the bank, Mr. Palmer. Just like we’ll need to be able to take yours if you’re lucky enough to join our ranks. And we don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“I’m not keeping secrets. It’s none of anyone’s business how much money I’m going to inherit, and it has nothing do with how well I do my job.”
“I’m the judge of that, and I don’t agree.”
I’ve had enough of his cryptic smugness, and I bite back the urge to ask him to get the fuck out. He’s a federal agent and right now, he appears to be standing between me and this job that I’ve made my light at the end of the tunnel.
I keep my expression neutral. “Are you going to enlighten me, then?”
He uncrosses his legs. “What’s your relationship with Oz Annan?”
It’s the last thing I expect him to ask and my irritation morphs into unease. “Uh…he’s a cousin but we’re not close. Why?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
“If you already know then why are you asking?” I ask, irritation clipping my words.
“Because I want to know the whole story.”
I sigh wearily. “Ozwald Annan’s mother is my father’s sister. She’s also worked for my parents since I was a child. She lived in a cottage on the property and naturally her son lived with her.”
“So, you grew up together.” His nose twitches like a bloodhound catching a scent.
“Hardly.” I scoff and brush off his attempt to frame our relationship. “He’s ten years older than me, and by the time I was old enough to make formative memories, he’d moved out.”
The man nods. “File says he went to college at Oxford. He must be a very smart guy. I don’t blame your father for keeping him close.”
“Yes. My father gave Oz a job at Prosperity Partners after he graduated from business school. He worked there for five years in the real estate group. He wasn’t a vital employee and he works for himself now.”
He blows out a breath and hangs his head, shaking it like he’s disappointed. “Do you know what he does for a living now?”
“He’s a lobbyist and represents governments seeking to do business with the United States government. I think. Again, we’re not close.”
“And did you know that your father, in his personal capacity, is his largest client?”
“What personal capacity? And what has Oz got to do with me and this job?”
He sighs and leans back in his chair, his expression grows grave. “I’m going to share something with you. You signed several nondisclosures when you applied for this position and they apply to this conversation, too.”
I have to stop myself from shifting in my seat. “Understood,” I say through tense lips. “Go ahead.”
“Ozwald Annan has been the subject of a multi-year investigation into a criminal syndicate that runs a black market in priceless artifacts and contraband like ivory fueled by a sophisticated burglary ring. We suspect he’s the person known by members of the syndicate as The Wizard.”
“Based on what?”
He cocks his head. “You don’t seem surprised.”
I laugh humorlessly “That you suspect a wealthy Black foreigner doing business with countries you don’t like of being a criminal? I’d be surprised if you didn’t. But those things in themselves aren’t crimes.”
“He does fit a profile, but so do you. So do a lot of men in the country. They’re not all suspects. He is because we have credible evidence. We just need an airtight case. We’ll only get one shot at him. He’s slippery as fuck.”
“I can’t help you. Like I said, we didn’t grow up together. We haven’t had any reason to be in each other’s lives. We’re practically strangers.”
He purses his lips and looks up at the ceiling like he’s thinking. “Hmmmm. And your father? When will you see him next?”
I sit up straight, sensing danger I hadn’t before. “What has my father got to do with Oz’s potential criminality?”
“That’s what we’d like to know. Given his support of that last regime, we can’t ignore his penchant for cozying up to bad actors. Even if he himself isn’t bad, it’s a question of judgement.”
“My father has excellent judgment.”
“I hope so, because if even half of what we suspect Annan is involved in turns out to be true, then your father is doing business with a dangerous, ruthless man who will do anything for money and who has no loyalty to any country or person.”
I mean, I knew he was an asshole with no integrity. But my head spins to hear Oz described that way. “Is my father in danger?” I ask.
“No.” He shakes his head. “But your job prospects could be.”
Resignation and resentment form a weight in my stomach. “Unless what?”
“All you’d have to do is put this little device I’ll give you within ten feet of his phone for at least ninety seconds, and we’ll do the rest.”
Time seems to slow, my pulse thrum in my ears. I shake my head, incredulous. “You want me to collect intel on my own father?”
His expression grows cold and he slaps a hand on the desk. “If he’s collaborating with an enemy of this country, I expect you to.”
“He’s not. If he was, I’d be the first person to turn him in. Your intel is bad. He’s not doing business with him.”
He looks at me with eyes narrowed, shakes his head like I’ve got to be an idiot. “They’re in it together, and you know it.”
I balk at his characterization. “Saying that won’t make it true. You’re wrong.”
“If I am, what have you to got to lose by helping me confirm it?”
Everything. My only living parent, practically the only family I’ve got.
“They were together in London last summer. A transport on its way to Dover was robbed and a cache of ivory that had just been confiscated was stolen two days after Annan arrived and less than forty-eight hours before he hopped back on a plane to DC. A plane, I might add, that belongs to your father.” He leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head.
He’s making leaps in logic based on intel that’s not complete but he’s not going to take my word for it.
“Kwame, help us with the investigation. Prove your loyalty and trustworthiness and patriotism. And once Oz is out of the picture, your dad won’t be important enough to merit a mention in the report I’ll submit to the hiring committee.
And if you don’t help us, we’ll find another way to get what we need. ”
Dread courses through me at the unmistakable threat in his voice.
He gets to his feet. “You have until the end of April.”
“So, if I don’t rat my father out, I don’t get the job?”
“If you won’t cooperate with the government, then you become an enemy of it. And we will treat you like one.”
An icy pool of dread and impotent rage forms in my gut as he leaves my office.
I wait until security downstairs confirms he’s left the building before I text the Governor.
“I think I’m in trouble.”