Exactly as Charlie predicted, the worst is starting. She forgets the whispered comments and the not-so-subtle pointing fingers. Even the way they walk past me as gossip makes its way through the office. That I can bear. But when I sit in the oh-so-pristine-first-floor conference room and peer out the window that separates me from my former bank mates, I can't help but feel like a monkey in the dark. Zoo. They do their best to appear natural as they wander through the maze of desks. But every time one of them walks by—every time someone gets out of the elevator or goes to the copier or even sits down at their desk again—their head turns for a moment and they fix me with that look: part curiosity, part judgment. moral. Some spice it up with shame; others add a dash of disgust.
It's been two weeks since the news broke, but this is the first chance they've had to see it with their own eyes. And although most of them have already made up their minds, there are still a few who want to know if it is true. They are the hardest to deal with. Whatever Charlie and I did to salvage the situation, it still was never our money.
For almost an hour I sit there receiving their stares, whispers and pointed fingers. I try to hold their gaze, but they avert it. Most days, only the lowest-ranking worker bees get trapped among the swarm of desks in front of the main entrance. Today, towards the end of the first half hour, almost every employee in the bank has found an excuse to come over and take a look at the monkey behind the glass. That's why they put me here. If they wanted to keep things low-key, they could have ushered me in through the artists' door at the back of the building and sent me upstairs in the private elevator. Instead, they've decided to put on a show and remind me in passing that my private elevator days are over. Like everything at Green & Green, it is a matter of perception.
The traffic reaches its rush hour when Lapidus and Quincy finally make their entrance. They don't tell me anything directly. It's all been done through his lawyer, a nasty, high-voiced mosquito. The guy tells me that they are withholding my settlement until the investigation is complete, that my health insurance has expired immediately, that they will file legal action if I try to contact any current or former clients of the bank, and to top it off Pie, who will contact the SEC and banking regulatory agencies in the hope that they will prevent him from being able to work at any other bank in the future.
"Very good," I say. That's all?
The lawyer looks at Lapidus and Quincy. They both nod.
"Wonderful," I say. So this is for you…" I slide a letter-size blue and white envelope toward Lapidus. It has nothing written. Lapidus looks at the lawyer.
"Don't worry, it's not a subpoena," I tell him.
Lapidus turns the envelope over and sees his own signature scrawled on the back cover.
It's the only reason I came to the bank today...
Lapidus opens the envelope and unfolds my letter of recommendation for the School of Business Administration.
... wanted to see his face. And that he knew that I knew.
He keeps his eyes on the letter, refusing to look at me. His discomfort alone makes each of those seconds worth living. He folds the letter, puts it back in the envelope, and walks quietly out the door.
-Where are you going? Quincy asks.
But Lapidus does not answer him. Lapidus and Quincy may never have been involved in the money and everything that happened, but that doesn't make them saints.
The meeting lasts exactly six minutes. Four years to build this life. Six minutes to erase it in one fell swoop. The lawyer asks me to wait here while they collect my things.
As they leave, the door slams behind them, and I look out the window into the hall. Two dozen employees look away again. The bandaged cut on my stomach hurts every time I change position. And my broken nose hurts every time I breathe. But this hurts much more.
Twenty five minutes later, nothing.
has changed. The zoo is still open. I nod at Jersey Jeff; he pretends not to have seen it. Mary steps out of the elevator, refusing to acknowledge that I'm sitting a few feet away. For four years, I killed myself for my peers, made money for clients, and immersed myself in every little detail the bank had to offer. But in all those years, I never made a single friend.
I try not to think about it as I stare at the inlaid mahogany boardroom table. It's the same table I sat at with my first client, who caught the eye of Lapidus and led to my transfer from the first to the seventh floor of the bank. Today, as my eyes roam the pattern of the antique mahogany, I tilt my head to discover an ugly scratch that runs like a scar down the center of the table. I've never seen it before. But I bet it was always there.
Finally exhausted from the waiting game, I get up to leave. But just as I push my chair away, there's a pounding on the conference room door.
"Come in," I say, even though the door
it is already opening.
When it closes again, I examine
the familiar figure carrying two cardboard boxes from the bank. Not quite sure what to say, Joey walks over and puts the boxes on the table. One of them contains management books and my cheap imitation banker's lamp, the other is filled with Play-Doh and the rest of Charlie's toys.
"They…uh…asked me to bring you these things," he says in an unusually calm voice.
I nod and check the contents of my box. The sterling silver pen and pen set I bought with my first bonus. And the leather blotter I bought when I got my first promotion. Naturally, the Art Deco watch that Lapidus gave me is not there. I imagine he took it off the wall last week.
"I'm sorry they didn't let you up," Joey explains. It's just that after everything that's happened, the insurance company asked me to...
"No, I understand," I interrupt. Everyone has to do their job.
"Yeah... well... some jobs are easier than others."
-There's no doubt. I look at her face. Unlike everyone else, she doesn't take her eyes off her. Instead, she stays with me…studying…absorbing my reaction. It's the first time I've seen her so close to her... and without a weapon in her hand. Listen, Miss Lemont...
—Joey.
"Joey," I repeat. I just... I just wanted to thank her for what she's done. For me... and for Charlie.
"Oliver, all I've done is tell the truth.
"I'm not talking about the testimony…I meant with Shep. With the fact of saving us...
"I almost got them both killed." That parody of talking to Lapidus on the phone...
"...was the only way to find out what was really going on." Also, if I hadn't arrived when he did... And then with Charlie's medication...
"As you said yourself, we all do our jobs," she adds with a smile. It's the only smile I've seen all day. And it means so much more than she'll ever know.
"And what will happen now?" I ask him. Have they been able to recover all the money?
-Money? What money? Joey asks, laughing. There is no money anymore... just a collection of ones and zeros assigned to a computer.
—But the account in Antigua...
"Once you gave us the location, they sent back every penny; but you could see how Duckworth designed his worm. The three million... the three hundred million... None of that money was real. Yes, okay, the computers thought it was real, and yes, it did fool all the banks they sent the money to—that was the cool part of the program—but that doesn't mean the money was actually there. Say hello to the cold hard cash of the future. It may look like a dollar, and act like a dollar, but that doesn't make it a dollar.
"So all those transfers from Tanner Drew and everyone else at the bank...?"
"It was just the simplest way to make money look real. When you look at it, it's really brilliant. Completely random, completely impossible to find. The hardest part is that once the worm enters the system, penetrates deep into it and hides.
"Then how do you know what's real and what's fake?"
"That's the question now, isn't it?" Unfortunately for us it is like talking about traveling through time. Once Gallo brought the program and Shep put it into the system, the worm burrowed so deep that it created a whole new reality. The tech guys have said it will take months to clean up the system. Trust me, Lapidus and Quincy may smile now, but for the next year of their lives, they—and every single customer at this bank—will be under a magnifying glass the size of Utah.
Joey says that to make me feel better. And while I can imagine the look on Tanner Drew's face when she's told the accounting verification of his account, I'm not sure it's going to work.
"What about Gillian?" -asked. "You mean Sherry?"
"Yeah, sure… Sherry. Do you know anything about his situation?
"Apart from the process?" You know better than me. You're the one talking to the attorney general.
He is right.
"Last I heard from her, she posted bail just in time to attend her funeral.
Joey remains silent as he shares the news of her with her. She's still the one who pulled the trigger on Shep, no matter what. Even so, she is too smart to stay on the negative side of events. Quickly changing the subject, she asks me:
"What are you going to do after this?"
"You mean after five years of probation?"
"That was the final arrangement?"
"As long as we turn over DeSanctis and Gilli… Sherry, our testimony sets us free.
From the wrinkle forming on her forehead, Joey is wondering if it was a difficult decision. Nothing in my life has been easier for me.
"And what about you?" I ask. "Don't you get a bonus or some kind of percentage for catching us all?"
She shakes her head.
"Not when it's a seedy insurance company that's paying," he says. But there's always the next case...
I nod, trying to show some sympathy.
-So that's all? Joey asks.
"That's all," I tell him.
She looks at me like I haven't told her everything.
-That? -asked.
Looking over her shoulder, she makes sure no one is listening. "Is it true that someone called you?"
to talk about buying the film rights?
"How did she find out?"
"It's my job, Oliver.
I shake my head, for once forgetting caution.
-They called me. They said that I had
lots of sub-arguments, but I haven't called them back. I don't know... Not all things have a price.
"Yeah… well, I have a lot of subplots too. And all I'm telling you is that when you're looking for someone to play my part, don't let it be one of those cute beauty queens who always have a cell phone glued to their ear. Unless, of course, she's a pain in the ass and has a normal body and, on the last sentence, someone whispers, "Thank you, Wicked."
Joe.»
I can't help but a loud laugh.
-I will do what i can.
Joey goes to the door and throws it open. As he is about to leave, he turns and adds:
"I'm really sorry you had to be fired, Oliver.
"Believe it, it's for the best."
He watches me to decide if I'm lying…to her and to myself.
Hesitantly, she turns back to the door.
"Are you ready to go?"
I look at the two boxes resting on the meeting table. The one on the left contains self-help manuals, silver pens, and a leather blotter. The one on the right has Play-doh and Kermit the Frog. The boxes are not big. I can carry both. But I only take one.
Come on, Kermit, we're going home.
I support Charlie's box against his chest and leave the other one behind.
Joey points at her.
"Do you want me to help you carry...?" I shake my head. I no longer need it. Joey nods slightly, steps back, and
he holds the door open for me to get through.
I cross the threshold and walk the bank for the last time. Everyone looks at me. I don't mind.
"Kick their ass, boy," Joey whispers in my ear.
"Thanks, Wicked Joe," I say with a smile.
Without saying anything else I join the crowd. I look straight ahead and I can already smell the Play-Doh.