"Thanks for agreeing to see me at such short notice, Mr. Thompson," Dick said as he shook hands with the Palmer executive. Dick wore one of his "bored meeting" suits -- suits Alfred picked out for him to wear to Wayne board meetings -- and he saw Thompson respond to the image he projected of a no-nonsense, take-charge corporate player.
"Mr. Grayson, I knew Palmer had been talking to Wayne Enterprises, but I was rather surprised to be brought into that at this early stage." Thompson was a fit-looking man in his late forties with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a mustache. He wore his designer suit easily, as someone who didn't allow his clothes to dictate to him. He motioned for Dick to take a seat.
Dick knew the seating arrangement was designed to make him feel like a supplicant, but as psychological gambits went, it was small game. 'I've had my mind messed with by experts,' he thought with a inner smirk. He continued to project an attitude of being in charge of the situation. "As you said, Bruce Wayne was approached by Mr. Palmer to consider investing, or rather, rescuing Palmer Electronics. Before he made a decision to spend that kind of money, he felt it was necessary to investigate the company to see if it would be a sound investment. That's why I'm here."
Thompson stiffened slightly. "Well, of course, I will be happy to assist your investigation in any way I can."
Dick gave him a smile with no humor behind it. "Perhaps, you can begin by explaining why you have been embezzling $400,000 per month for the last ten months?" While Thompson just gaped at him like a fish, Dick reached inside his jacket and took out the documents Babs had prepared. He unfolded them and laid them in front of Thompson.
"These papers make the trail pretty clear -- you took the money out and attempted to hide your actions."
"This must be some kind of joke! I don't know what you're talking about!" Thompson blustered. "I own part of this company -- why would I steal from myself?!?"
Dick remained calm. "As I said, sir, we have documents that show you took the money."
"Then I'm being framed! You think you can just waltz in here and accuse me like this? Just because you work for a rich know-nothing pretty-boy ..." His sputters cut off abruptly as Dick stood up and leaned over the desk, placing his palms flat on the surface.
"Sir," Dick still did not raise his voice, but there was a steely undercurrent in his words. "We traced the money, Mr. Thompson. As you can see from these papers, we have evidence that you and you alone were responsible for the withdrawal of this money. There is a clear path from the phony disbursement checks to cash withdrawals that you made. I can even show you copies of the bank surveillance tapes."
Thompson fell back against his chair in defeat. He wiped his hands over his face and through his hair as if he could wipe the whole incident away. Dick sat back down in his chair and managed not to start when Thompson suddenly slammed his fist down on the desk.
"It's all her fault!" Thompson burst out.
"Whose fault?"
"Jennifer Hill's! That lying, conniving, ..." Thompson continued on in terms of ever-increasing vitriol, until Dick finally raised his hand to stop him.
"Who is this 'Jennifer Hill?'" he asked in seeming ignorance.
"I met her about a year ago," Thompson replied abruptly, still seething. "We had an affair. From the beginning, I told her that's all it could be; I wouldn't leave my wife. After we'd been together about a month, she told me her birthday was coming up, and she wanted a special present -- $400,000. When I told her that was impossible, she explained that if she didn't get the money, she would go to my wife with proof of our affair."
He sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair dejectedly. "Marsha is a good woman, and I never wanted to hurt her, but a man has needs...no, I'll be honest: sometimes I just wanted something a little more...exciting, and an affair provided that excitement." He gave a heavy sigh and then continued, "At first, I thought Jen was bluffing. I mean, I'm not stupid; this certainly wasn't my first affair -- I had always been careful not to give anyone any kind of evidence they could give to Marsha. That's when Jen showed me the photos and the video tapes."
"She had tapes?"
"I had always had Jen set up our hotel rooms -- that way my name was never on the ledger -- but she must have used it as an opportunity to set up video cameras. She played the tapes for me. There is no way I could finesse my way out of that."
"So what happened next?"
"I managed to get her the $400,000 without Marsha's finding out. Then Jen dropped her next bombshell -- that was just the first payment. I was to give her $400,00 each and every month, and that's when she told me how I was to take the money out of my R&D budget. She had it all laid out; each step I needed to take to get her the money. She said as long as I followed her instructions and kept my head down, no one would ever find out about it." He laughed in disgust at himself.
"But I think I knew, deep down, that the company couldn't afford to lose $400,000 every month without any repercussions. When I heard that Wayne had been approached to bail us out, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It looked like I had a little more time to figure out what I was going to do when the money ran out, but I was still no closer to answering that than I was six months ago."
He looked up at Dick and asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, "So tell me, Grayson, are you going kill my marriage, my career, or both?"
"To be honest, sir, you've done that all by yourself," Dick replied solemnly.
Thompson nodded. "You're right. It's not fair to blame you -- I did it all myself. If I hadn't gotten involved with Jennifer...even the...embezzling. If I had just told her 'No!' I would have only had to face Marsha. But now...what do I do now?" he pleaded.
"Mr. Thompson, I'll be honest with you," Dick said seriously. "I'm inclined to believe your story, but I'm still going to have to check it out. What happens to you after that, I don't know, since I work for Wayne Enterprises, not Palmer Electronics. Let me do some investigating. What can you tell me about this...Jennifer Hill?"
"You're not going to ask her about me are you?!?"
"Now that would be pretty stupid, wouldn't it? Just stay calm and let me do my job."
Thompson told Dick what he knew about Jennifer Hill. As Dick stood to leave, he shook Thompson's hand once again. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Thompson."
****
"So what did you think of him?" Dick held his cell phone to his ear to cover his actions as he spoke to Barbara through his throat mike. He was seated on an el train on his way back to the hotel.
"I believed him," Barbara's voice replied. "The sound quality wasn't great, but I didn't detect any stress triggers that would've indicated that he was lying to you."
"Hey, if you want to complain about the sound quality, talk to Harold -- he made those things! Bugs generally have to be planted in out-of-the-way places. I thought I did a pretty good job, actually."
"Where'd you put it?"
"Under the ledge of his desk as I shook his hand. It was the best place I could see. I'm glad I remembered not to bring my briefcase."
"Anyway, I think he was telling the truth. Poor guy. So what's the plan, now?"
"I want you to keep an ear on him, just to be sure he doesn't spill the beans to anyone or do something drastic. I'm on my way back to the hotel, and then I'm going to check out Ms. Hill's address."
"All right. Give me a call later?"
"You bet, sweetheart. 'Bye." Dick "hung up" his cell phone just as the train stopped at his station. Getting off, he followed the rest of the crowd down the steps and out onto the street.
Once he got back to the hotel, he quickly changed clothes again and called down to the front desk to see if they had successfully completed his earlier request. Upon finding out they had, he went downstairs again, and was greeted by the concierge at the main entrance.
"Here you go, Mr. Grayson! This is your key, and the helmet is on the motorcycle."
"Thanks, uh, Andrew!" Dick replied, reading the man's nameplate. "Did you have any trouble with the rental papers?"
"No sir. The information you gave us was all they needed. Have a nice time, sir!"
"Thanks!"
Dick walked out the front entrance and smiled as he saw his objective: a bright, shiny, black Harley-Davidson Dyna Glide, complete with touring package. He walked around the motorcycle, checking to make sure everything was just as it should be. Putting on his helmet, he turned the key and started up the engine, smiling again as he listened to the powerful roar of a well-tuned engine. He waved to the friendly Andrew and drove off.
****
Dick smiled to himself as he motored along Lake Shore Drive and through the tony Lincoln Park neighborhood. Barbara's information had (as usual) been right on the money -- Jennifer Hill always visited her gym on Friday afternoons. It had been a fairly simple procedure to locate her car in the gym's parking garage and plant a tracking signal and a small explosive squib on her back tire. He had taken advantage of the lull to pick up some lunch at a small sidewalk cafe, and he was now just enjoying the nice spring weather while he waited for Hill to leave.
Finally, he saw the little blip that represented Jen Hill's car begin to move. It only took him a few minutes to catch up to her; she seemed to be heading downtown. He waited until she was on a fairly clear stretch of road. As she was braking to stop at a light, he detonated the squib. He saw her control of the car falter for a moment, but she was able to pull the car into the bus lane and stop. Dick immediately began jamming any cell phone calls she might have attempted and pulled his motorcycle in behind her.