Chapter 296: The File
"You want to ask Fischer directly," he said.
"I want you to read the room on Thursday," she said. "You do that better than I do."
"You read rooms fine," he said.
"I read financial rooms," she said. "You read people in financial rooms. That’s different and you know it." A pause that had something slightly warmer underneath it. "Two and a half weeks."
He almost smiled. "Two weeks."
"I’m not adjusting the model until the Fischer call is done," she said.
"The Fischer call is Thursday," he said.
"Then Friday I’ll adjust the model," she said.
"Friday," he said.
"Friday," she confirmed. And then the professional composure fully back: "The board call Tuesday is at two. I’ll send the prep document tonight."
"I’ll read it in the morning," he said.
"Read it tonight," she said. "I’ll have questions tomorrow morning."
"You always have questions in the morning," he said.
"Because I read things at night and questions occur to me while I’m sleeping," she said. "This is established."
He looked at his laptop.
"Clara," he said.
"Yes."
"The advisory board connection," he said. "The person who resigned quietly. What’s his name."
"Thomas Reeve," she said. "Sixty-one, Boston-based, twenty years in infrastructure investment before he moved to advisory roles. He resigned from the Meridian acquisition company eight months after the deal closed. No public statement, no industry commentary, just quietly stepped away."
"Men who step away quietly from something usually do it for one of two reasons," said Sean.
"They were pushed," said Clara. "Or they saw something they didn’t want their name next to."
"The second one is more interesting," said Sean.
"I know," said Clara. "That’s why I’m telling you before Thursday instead of after."
She ended the call.
Sean looked at the window.
He thought about Thomas Reeve and a quiet resignation and a Meridian acquisition three years ago and a fund manager named Fischer who had been in the industry long enough to know exactly what he was connecting when he made introductions.
He texted Max.
Thomas Reeve. Infrastructure investment, Boston-based. Advisory board member at a company Meridian acquired three years ago. Resigned eight months after the acquisition. I want to know why.
Max replied in four minutes. Give me until tonight.
Tonight is fine, said Sean.
He went back to the cap table.
—---------
Kwon called at eleven oh three.
"I’m going to tell you something," said Kwon, "and I want you to know I’m telling you because I’ve decided you’re the kind of person who handles information correctly."
"Okay," said Sean.
"That means I’m trusting your judgment on what to do with it," said Kwon. "And I want it to stay between us for now. Not Olivia. Not until I know what it is."
Sean straightened slightly.
"Tell me," he said.
"There’s a photograph," said Kwon. "From the Reine Hotel. The night of Olivia’s showcase."
Sean went still.
"What kind of photograph," he said.
"A lobby photograph," said Kwon. "You and Olivia entering together. The angle suggests it was taken from outside, through the lobby glass, with a telephoto lens." He paused. "It would be unremarkable except that someone has been asking about it. Not publishing it. Just asking. Making contact with people adjacent to our agency and asking whether anyone can confirm who the man in the photograph is and what the relationship is."
"Who’s been asking," said Sean.
"That’s what I don’t know yet," said Kwon. "The contacts have been indirect. Through industry adjacent people, not journalists directly." He paused. "But the pattern of someone building a picture before they use it is something I’ve seen before."
"How long has this been happening," said Sean.
"The first contact I can trace was eleven days ago," said Kwon. "I’ve been trying to understand the shape of it before I said anything." He paused. "The debut is seven weeks and four days away. Whatever this is, the timing is not accidental."
Sean looked at the campus outside the library window.
"The label knows," he said.
"I briefed them Friday," said Kwon. "They’re not panicking. But they’re watching."
"Good," said Sean. "Don’t do anything yet. Don’t reach out, don’t try to find the source directly, don’t let it be known that you know."
"I’ve been doing this a long time," said Kwon.
"I know," said Sean. "I’m not managing you. I’m thinking out loud."
A pause. Then, with the specific warmth Kwon reserved for moments he didn’t want to make into bigger moments: "I know you are. That’s why I called you."
"Give me a few days," said Sean.
"You have a few days," said Kwon. "After that it starts to move on its own timeline."
The call ended.
Sean sat in the library with the cap table revision on his laptop and the Monday campus outside the window and two separate things moving in the background of his ordinary morning that he hadn’t built and hadn’t expected.
He opened a new note on his phone.
He wrote two things.
Isabelle Crane — except he didn’t know that name yet, so he wrote Financial investigation — source unknown.
Debut — photograph — lobby Reine — eleven days.
He looked at both lines.
Then he texted Max.
Add something to the Thomas Reeve search, he said. I also need to know if anyone has been making financial inquiries about me in the last two weeks. Not formal regulatory inquiries. Informal ones. The kind someone makes when they’re building a picture quietly.
Max replied in thirty seconds.
That’s a different kind of search, said Max.
I know, said Sean. Can you do it.
Yes, said Max. It’ll take longer. Two days minimum.
Take three if you need it, said Sean. Get it right.
He put his phone in his pocket and looked at the campus.
The morning was doing its Monday things around him. Students with coffee. Someone’s backpack unzipped and trailing. The ordinary machinery of a place where things were supposed to be simple.
His phone buzzed.
Amara.
Not Max. Amara directly, which meant she’d saved his number and had decided to use it without going through Max, which told him something specific about where the eighth question was.
The oversight body presentation is scheduled. Three weeks from Wednesday. I have forty-one slides. A pause. I thought you’d want to know.