The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [121]
“You were upset,” I said, concealing my surprise. I’d never heard Walter apologize before. “It’s perfectly understandable.”
“You’re kind to say so, but it wasn’t. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, now or later, just say the word.”
Curiosity about his change of heart took a backseat to heaven-sent opportunity.
“I appreciate it. Truth be told, one of the reasons I came here tonight was to ask for a favor.”
“What favor?” he asked, a touch of the usual wariness returning to his eyes.
“There’s a guy named Karl Mohler who worked at Dean Witter sometime in the mid-nineties. The SEC investigated him for churning but let him off the hook. I want to know who his lawyer was.”
Walter seemed fully alert.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you. That’s another part of the favor. And the last is that I need the answer right now. Please.”
He stared at me for a long moment. Just when I felt confident he was going to balk, he picked up the phone on the end table to his right and dialed a number. Something strange was definitely going on, but as long as it kept working in my favor, I wasn’t inclined to ask questions.
“Susan,” he said into the phone. “Get hold of Pete Ricken for me.” He glanced at his watch, and I checked mine as well. It was six-thirty. “No idea. Try him at the office first. If he doesn’t answer, try his home and then his cell. I’ll hold.”
We sipped scotch in silence for sixty seconds. Pete Ricken was the chairman of the SEC.
“Pete,” Walter said curtly. “Thanks for taking my call. I’m hoping you can do something for me.… Right. Your people investigated a man named Karl Mohler for churning a few years back. He worked at Dean Witter at the time. I’d like to know who represented him.… No. Your guys gave him a pass.… If the information were publicly available, I wouldn’t be calling you, would I?” There was a longer pause, and when Walter finally replied, each syllable sounded like a rock bounced off a metal pole. “Let me make sure we understand each other, Pete. You help me and I help you. If not, my entire community reverses its position on your merger with the Fed. You understand?”
It was vintage Walter hardball, made potent by the fact that Ricken and his agency were so vulnerable. Everyone in the industry had known for years that the SEC was woefully incompetent, a fact Congress and the general public had become aware of only in the wake of the recent market collapse. Ricken and the career bureaucrats who worked for him were engaged in a frantic backroom struggle to avoid becoming an unloved ward of the vastly more capable Federal Reserve. The hedge-fund community had supported Ricken thus far, happier to be under-regulated. Their reversal might tip the scales. I was more than a little surprised that Walter would push so hard on my behalf. Whatever mojo I had was running strong.
“Mohler,” Walter repeated, his tone more genial. “M-O-H-L-E-R.” He looked to me for confirmation and I nodded. “Exactly.… Of course … I’d be happy to help her out with that.… You’re welcome.” His voice hardened again. “And Pete, I’d like that information tonight, within the hour. You have my number.”
He hung up and snorted.
“His wife wants to be a trustee of the Kennedy Center. Wait until he finds out that the minimum trustee contribution is half a million a year.”
I laughed.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He fiddled with his glass, swirling his ice cubes, and the sense I’d had before came back stronger. There was something on his mind, but he couldn’t figure out how to get to it. His uncharacteristic indecision gave me the opportunity to put a few questions of my own.
“I heard you were in Washington this past weekend. You learn anything interesting?”
He took a pull at his drink and nodded.
“The Saudi data came out of the CIA and was distributed to the Senate Select Committee a few months ago. CIA analysis jived with yours, but they graded it unverifiable and downplayed it.”
“So, why’d Senator Simpson run with it?”
“I asked him. Him and Clifford White together,