Page 86 of Heated Takeover

I lean in. “Ms. Brunswick. When I came to Mission Events, the books showed that you ran a tight ship. But somewhere, perhaps deeper in the company than your books could show, there was a leak. Money unaccounted for.”

“Oh?” she asks as complacently as possible.

“Money being pumped into overseas accounts,” Jim says, and Janice stops fidgeting altogether. Then, she cracks a little.

“I told them it was a mistake. That none of you were stupid, and they left too many footprints,” she says. The woman is practically shaking. Margaret squeezes her hand to steady her.

“Who?” Jim asks.

“They were embezzling, and I figured it out, but what was I going to do? Who could I tell? I’d lose my job or be accused of doing it myself or…” She swallows hard. “Then the messages started.”

Jim stiffens. “What messages?”

“Pictures. My house. My daughter leaving work. One of my granddaughter outside her school.” Her voice cracks. “No words. They didn’t need any.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jim mutters.

“That’s when I retired,” she says. “I thought if I walked away and kept my mouth shut, they’d leave my family alone.”

“Who are they?” I ask.

She opens her mouth and then closes it again, setting her jaw.

“How…how much money have they taken?” she asks after a moment.

“We can’t discuss numbers until we know who they are…” Margaret says, and her face pales from white to ashy.

“I can’t disclose their names. I won’t until I have immunity. I should have a lawyer present,” she says.

“We can get you one,” Jim says.

“Rick can contact the prosecutor,” I add. “He cannot promise you criminal immunity. What he can do is put you in touch with independent counsel and ask the authorities for a written cooperation agreement. The company can also promise not to sue you for cooperating.”

Rick’s attention snaps over to me. I know I am going out on a limb here. A limb that is over his head that could crash down on his head. I have enough money and status to ensure that no one fucks with Janice or anyone else. I just need names.

“Is that true?” Janice asks him. Rick nods. “Only a prosecutor can grant immunity or agree not to use your statement against you. I can pause this meeting, find independent counsel for you, and contact the state attorney. You do not give us names or documents until your lawyer is here and the terms are in writing.”

We break for nearly two hours. When Janice returns, an independent attorney sits beside her and an assistant state attorney joins by secure video. The agreement protects her statements while requiring complete cooperation and preserving consequences for any lie. Only then does the meeting resume.

Then she looks back at me and everyone else.

“This is a secure conversation, dear,” Margaret assures her.

There’s a pause, and I swear I can see the words building in her chest as her breath rises and falls jaggedly. The answer is rushing towards her lips, and I can hear the absence of breathing in the room as everyone waits. I keep my eyes locked on hers to try and pull the words out.

“I do have documents,” she admits. “I kept documents because a part of me always knew it was wrong. I have loyalty to this company. To you, Jim. And I just…”

“Do you have them with you?” I ask.

She hesitates, then pulls her keys out of her purse. On her keys is one of those tiny bottles of hand sanitizer, the ones that come in a little keychain case. The bottle is black with a corporation logo on it that reads Garden Freesia, Kills 99.9% of germs. She pulls the bottle from the case and then pulls the lid off. It’s not sanitizer. It’s a hard drive.

“Well, isn’t that nifty?” Margaret says with a smile. But Janice looks like she’s going to be sick.

I hold out my hand and Janice hands it to me reluctantly. Then I hand it to Rick, who plugs it into his laptop.

For a while, we all wait while he sifts through what appears to be years’ worth of files. After what feels like an eternity, Jim is the first to speak.

“Well? Did you find something?” he asks.