Her Man Friday(2)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Leo arched his brows in surprise. Okay, so maybe Kimball’s board of directors wasn’t going to be so hard to deal with after all. "And I’ll need for all of you to be available to me for questioning."

"Done," Cohiba man agreed without even consulting his colleagues. The other men nodded.

Well, hell, Leo thought. They were taking all the fun out of it. "And I’ll require full and unhampered access to Schuyler Kimball, as well," he added.

Cohiba Man shook his head resolutely. "Absolutely not."

Scratch those earlier observations. "Excuse me?" Leo said.

"I said you won’t have access to Schuyler Kimball," Cohiba Man repeated. "You’re not to bring him into this. He’s a very busy man."

Leo eyed the other man warily. "Let me get this straight. I’m trying to find fifty million dollars that someone has stolen from Kimball, but I can’t have access to the man because he’s too busy to see me?"

"That’s correct."

"Excuse me for seeming a bit, oh… shall we say … miffed about such a development, but I’m gonna kinda need to talk to the guy."

Cohiba Man puffed some more. "No, you won’t."

"Why not?"

"Far be it from me to miff you, Mr. Friday, but you won’t need to speak to Mr. Kimball because Mr. Kimball doesn’t know the money is missing, and he’s not to know of your investigation. That’s why."

Leo squinted as the billows of smoke grew trucker around the other man. "Isn’t he the one who’s hiring me?" he asked.

"No, Mr. Friday. We—" He gestured down the table. "—the board of directors, are the ones who are hiring you."

Interesting distinction, Leo thought. He’d been under the impression that the board of directors of a company sort of answered to the man in charge. What were these guys? A wandering band of rogue executives? "You want to clarify that for me?" he asked.

Cohiba Man puffed one more time before removing the cigar from his mouth. Then he settled it in a crystal ashtray and folded one hand over the other on the table, an action that told Leo he was in for a serious—and lengthy—monologue.

Just as he’d suspected, Cohiba Man inhaled a long breath, then stated, "The board of directors of Kimball Technologies is hiring you, Mr. Friday, not Schuyler Kimball. Mr. Kimball isn’t currently aware of the theft, nor is he to be informed about it. In fact, Mr. Kimball isn’t to be informed of your activities at all. He’s much too busy to be bothered by something like this. He has the running of his company to see to, not to mention other, more personal, pursuits."

Leo studied the other man in silence for some time, shifting his weight again from one hiking-booted foot to the other as he contemplated what the true nature of personal pursuits might be in terms of a billionaire playboy. Then, when his thoughts started to get away from him, lingering far too long on scantily clad women and whipped cream, he shook his head hard and said, "You, uh, you want to tell me how you’re going to explain it to Kimball when he finds out that someone—namely me—is poking his nose into every single file in the Kimball archives?"

Leo was really looking forward to the answer to that question, and shifted his weight again as he waited to hear what it might be.

Cohiba Man picked up his cigar and puffed some more. "No, Mr. Friday, I don’t want to tell you that. It’s immaterial."

"But—"

"Suffice it to say," Cohiba Man cut him off, "you are in no danger of Mr. Kimball discovering your presence or your activities."

"But—"

"And should you make your identity and the particulars of your investigation known to him—either voluntarily or involuntarily—then your work for this company shall be immediately terminated, and you’ll never crunch numbers in this town again. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Friday?"

"Crystal," Leo replied without missing a beat.

But he stiffened under the other man’s perusal, his back going up fast at the suggestion that he’d never work in Philadelphia again. Right. Like that was ever going to happen, seeing as how he had a national reputation for being the best at what he did. Leo was more than confident of his ability to stay in business, regardless of what these overblown egos thought of their own power.

But if they didn’t want Kimball to know about the investigation, then he’d keep it under his hat. He could manage, as long as he had access to—and the blessing of—the board of directors, and the freedom to plunder all of the company files. It might take longer than it would if he’d been able to sit down with the big boss and ask a few questions, but Leo could still do his job quite nicely, thanks, without Kimball’s input.

He was about to say something more, to ask the first of many questions, when Cohiba Man started up again.

"Unfortunately," the executive said, "Mr. Kimball keeps some of his records at his estate in Bucks County. Naturally, Mr. Friday, we’ll expect you to begin your investigation at company headquarters here in town. But ultimately, this assignment could force you to do quite a lot of traveling, to other cities and countries where Kimball Technologies has holdings. A worst-case scenario would have you infiltrating Mr. Kimball’s private residence, but in all likelihood—if you’re as good as you claim—that will never come about, because you’ll find the source of the theft right away. At any rate, we’ll start here and work our way out, shall we?"

We? Leo echoed to himself. Like these guys knew the first place to look for corruption. Then again, some corruption went pretty high up in the company. Just why, exactly, were they so reluctant to let Schuyler Kimball know what was going on?

While Leo was pondering the answer to that question, Cohiba Man added, "And because of the delicate nature of this investigation, it will, of course, be essential that you cover your tracks. No one other than the men present in this room right now is to know your true reason for poking around. No one. You’ll have to make every effort to keep yourself invisible."

"That goes without saying," Leo said. "And, no offense, but I wouldn’t be where I am in this business if I hadn’t mastered discretion a long time ago."

"No, Mr. Friday," Versace Man piped up then. "You don’t understand. It’s not your discretion we’re worried about. It’s you. Your very identity is the problem. You’re too well-known, even by some of the company’s less, shall we say, important employees. You’re not to go by Leo Friday. You’re not to be an investigator of fraud. We’ll have to come up with another persona entirely for you. This has to look like a simple, standard audit of the books. Period."