"Stross, Charles - The Family Trade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stross Charles)

" 'Circumstantial?'" Paulette's expression was almost pitying. "Who's paying you, the defence? This is enough to get the FBI and the DA muttering about RICO."
"Yeah, but..." Miriam nodded to herself. "Look, this is heavy. Heavier than usual anyway. I can guarantee you that if we spring this story we'll get three responses. One will be Bowers in our hair, and the other will be a bunch of cease-
and-desist letters from attorneys. Freedom of the press is all very well, but a good reputation and improved circulation figures won't buy us defence lawyers, which is why I want to double-check everything in here before I go upstairs and tell Sandy we want the cover. Because the third response is going to be oh-shit-I-don't-want-to-believe-this, because our great leader and teacher thinks the sun shines out of Biphase and I think he's into Proteome too."
"Who do you take me for?" Paulette pointed at the pile. "That's primary, Miriam, the wellspring. SEC filings, public accounts, the whole lot. Smoking gun. The summary sheetЧ " she tugged at a Post-it note gummed to a page a third of the way down the stackЧ"says it all. I was in here all day yesterday and half the eveningЧ"
"I'm sorry!" Miriam raised her hand. "Hey, really. I had no idea."
"I kind of lost track of time," Paulette admitted. She smiled. "It's not often I get something interesting to dig into. Anyway, if the boss is into these two, I'd think he'd be glad of the warning. Gives him time to pull out his stake before we run the story."
"Yeah, well." Miriam stood up. "I think we want to bypass Sandy. This goes to the top."
"But Sandy needs to know. It'll mess with his page planЧ"
"Yeah, but someone has to call Legal before we run with this. It's the biggest scoop we've had all year. Want to come with me? I think you earned at least half the credit..."
They shared the elevator up to executive row in silence. It was walled in mirrors, reflecting their contrasts: Paulette, a short blonde with disorderly curls and a bright red blouse, and Miriam, a slim five-foot-eight, dressed entirely in black. The business research wonk and the journalist, on their way to see the editorial director. Some Mondays are better than others, thought Miriam. She smiled tightly at Paulette in the mirror and Paulie grinned back: a worried expression, slightly apprehensive.
The Industry Weatherman was mostly owned by a tech venture capital firm who operated out of the top floors of the building, their offices intermingled with those of the magazine's directors. Two floors up, the corridors featured a better grade of carpet and the walls were genuine partitions covered in oak veneer, rather than fabric-padded cubicles. That was the only difference she could seeЧthat and the fact that some of the occupants were assholes like the people she wrote glowing profiles of for a living. I've never met a tech VC who a shark would bite, Miriam thought grumpily. Professional courtesy among killers. The current incumbent of the revolving door office labelled editorial directorЧofficially a vice presidentЧwas an often-absent executive by the name of Joe Dixon. Miriam led Paulette to the office and paused for a moment, then knocked on the door, half-hoping to find he wasn't there.
"Come in." The door opened in her face, and it was Joe himself, not his secretary. He was over six feet, with expensively waved black hair, wearing his suit jacket over an open-necked dress shirt. He oozed corporate polish: If he'd been ten years older, he could have made a credible movie career as a captain of industry. As it was, Miriam always found herself wondering how he'd climbed into the boardroom so young. He was in his mid-thirties, not much older than she was. "Hi." He took in Miriam and Paulette standing just behind her and smiled. "What can I do for you?"
Miriam smiled back. "May we have a moment?' she asked.
"Sure, come in." Joe retreated behind his desk. "Have a chair, both of you." He nodded at Paulette. "Miriam, we haven't been introduced."
"Oh, yes. Joe Dixon, Paulette Milan. Paulie is one of our heavy hitters in industrial research. She's been working with me on a story and I figured we'd better bring it to you first before taking it to the weekly production meeting. It's a bit, uh, sensitive."
" 'Sensitive.'" Joe leaned back in his chair and looked straight at her. "Is it big?"
"Could be," Miriam said noncommittally. Big? It's the
biggest I've ever worked on! A big story in her line of work might make or break a career; this one might send people to jail. "It has complexities to it that made me think you'd want advance warning before it breaks."
"Tell me about it," said Joe.
"Okay. Paulie, you want to start with your end?" She passed Paulette the file.
"Yeah." Paulie grimaced as she opened the file and launched into her explanation. "In a nutshell, they're laundries for dirty money. There's enough of a pattern to it that if I was a DA in California I'd be picking up the phone to the local FBI office."
"That's why I figured you'd want to know," Miriam explained. "This is a big deal, Joe. I think we've got enough to pin a money-laundering rap on a couple of really big corporations and make it stick. But last November you were talking to some folks at Proteome, and I figured you might want to refer this to Legal and make sure you're fire-walled before this hits the fan."
"Well. That's very interesting." Joe smiled back at her. "Is that your file on this story?"
"Yeah," said Paulette.
"Would you mind leaving it with me?" he asked. He cleared his throat. "I'm kind of embarrassed," he said, shrugging a small-boy shrug. The defensive set of his shoulders backed his words. "Look, I'm going to have to read this myself. Obviously, the scope for mistakes isЧ" he shrugged.
Suddenly Miriam had a sinking feeling: It's going to be bad. She racked her brains for clues. Is he going to try to bury us?
Joe shook his head. "Look, I'd like to start by saying that this isn't about anything you've done," he added hurriedly. "It's just that we've got an investment to protect and I need to work out how to do so."
"Before we break the story." Miriam forced another, broader, smile. "It was all in the public record," she added. "If we don't break it, one of our competitors will."
"Oh, I don't know," Joe said smoothly. "Listen, I'll get
back to you in an hour or so. If you leave this with me for now, I just need to go and talk to someone in Legal so we can sort out how to respond. Then I'll let you know how we're going to handle it."
"Oh, okay then," said Paulette acceptingly.
Miriam let her expression freeze in a fixed grin. Oh shit, she thought as she stood up. "Thanks for giving us your time," she said.
"Let yourselves out," Joe said tersely, already turning the first page.
Out in the corridor, Paulette turned to Miriam. "Didn't that go wellФ she insisted.
Miriam took a deep breath. "Paulie."
"Yeah?"
Her knees felt weak. "Something's wrong."
"What?" Paulette looked concerned.
"Elevator." She hit the "call" button and waited in silence, trying to still the butterflies in her stomach. It arrived, and she waited for the doors to close behind them before she continued. "I may just have made a bad mistake."
" 'Mistake?'" Paulette looked puzzled. "You don't thinkЧ"
"He didn't say anything about publishing," Miriam said slowly. "Not one word. What were the other names on that list of small investors? The ones you didn't check?"
"The list? He's gotЧ" Paulette frowned.
"Was Somerville Investments one of them?"
"Somerville? Could be. Why? Who are they?"
"Because that'sЧ" Miriam pointed a finger at the roof and circled. She watched Paulette's eyes grow round.
"I'm thinking about magazine returns from the newsstand side of the business, Paulie. Don't you know we've got low returns by industry standards? And people buy magazines for cash."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry, Paulie."
When they got back to Miriam's cubicle, a uniformed security guard and a suit from Human Resources were already waiting for them.
"Paulette Milan? Miriam Beckstein?" said the man from HR. He checked a notepad carefully.