He fell silent and allowed Jack a generously long moment to consider this news.

“This is blackmail,” Jack stammered.

“Well… yes,” Walters chimed in from the side with a dark smile. “You got us in this mess, Wiley. And you’re going to help us out of it, or we’re going to destroy you. You’ll go away for life, believe me.”

“We regret we had to do this,” Bellweather said gravely, trying to look and act like the good cop amid a roomful of horrible cops. It wasn’t convincing. “You left us little choice, Jack.”

“I can see it’s breaking your hearts. Tell me what you want.”

“For starters, where did you get that report?” Jackson demanded for the fifth time.

“Where do you think I got it?”

“Perry Arvan.”

“Good guess.”

“Did you know it was a false representation? Who was behind this scam?”

Jack sat up and rubbed his temples. “Why don’t you ask Perry?”

“He’s gone. Disappeared into the Caribbean. Hasn’t been seen in months.”

Walters complained, “He took our hundred million, saddled us with this pig in lipstick, and went on the lam.”

“Good for him,” Jack mumbled. He was back to staring down at the table.

“If you think that’s funny, it’s not,” Jackson roared. Incredibly, he thought he saw the hint of a smile beginning to form on Jack’s lips.

Jack stood up. He looked at the faces across the table. A change seemed to come over him. “You know what?” He paused and appeared to make up his mind. “I’m tired of your stupid questions.”

“No you’re not. Sit down and finish or I’ll shove this evidence up your ass.”

“I don’t think you will. For a lawyer you’re painfully inept, Jackson.”

“What?”

“You know the phrase Mexican standoff? Maybe mutually assured destruction works better. The moment I’m arrested, I’ll start singing. I’ll have nothing to lose. I’ll cut the best deal I can get, and tell everything I know, which is considerable. We’ll all hang together.”

Before anybody could answer, Jack faced Wallerman and suggested, “Go screw yourself, Lew.”

He ducked out the door before any of the stunned men could think up a reply.

Mitch Walters shut and locked his office door. He walked back to his desk, trying to avoid the harsh stares from Bellweather, Jackson, and Haggar, who were sitting stiffly in the chairs splayed around the office.

They were still stunned by Wiley’s response. They had been so sure he would collapse in fear and meet their every demand. They were going to force him to take the fall over this. The rest of his life in prison for murder, or a far shorter term for confessing to authoring this scam. That was the deal they were prepared to offer him. There really was no choice for Jack. That was the script they had cobbled together that morning; unfortunately, the lead in their nasty little play totally blew his lines.

Jack had a good point, though. They were pointing loaded guns at each other’s heads. Their finely honed plan was now in shreds. Somebody should’ve seen it coming. If they all weren’t so exhausted and under such miserable strain, they would’ve seen the flaw in their plan.

Nobody was ready to propose a new one.

Walters could sense the coldness from the others. Three sets of mean eyes watching him. He knew they were going to hang this on him if he gave them half a chance.

“Has anybody briefed the board about this yet?” Jackson asked.

Walters glanced at his watch and said nothing. The name of the game had just switched to damage control. That meant three big questions: How screwed were they? What steps did they need to take to squirm out of it? And how much was this going to cost?

“Not yet,” Bellweather answered, sounding miserable. “They’ll have to be told today, I suppose.”

They all knew it was going to be ugly. It was nearly impossible to assess the carnage at this point. So much hung on the immense profitability of the polymer. In a year of sorely depressed earnings, the polymer was going to be the golden fountain that spewed out such immense profits, the savior that covered up so many sins and weaknesses. It had promised so much.

The directors were going to throw a noisy fit. They would cry and howl and wail, and eventually they would demand heads.

What to do about the impending legal situation was a different matter, a far touchier one. Handled properly, it would be mildly embarrassing, but they were confident they could contain the damage and avoid a major scandal. They would do the usual: stonewall, bury the evidence, and pull all the right strings. In this town, the right favors in the right circles, enough money tucked in the right pockets, and who knew-maybe, just maybe, they could limit this to a minor humiliation.

Thank God they weren’t a public company and didn’t have to concern themselves with all those complications. There would be no stockholders’ revolt, no hammering of their stock, no antagonistic directors screaming for a bloody purge. Fortunately, no big concerns from the SEC either.

“How are we going to manage this?” Haggar asked, getting to the point.

Jackson jumped in. “First thing we’re going to do is destroy all the files.” He glanced at Walters. “No subpoenas have been issued. Not yet. Get rid of everything, incriminating or otherwise.”

“Got it. A big, indiscriminate bonfire before close of business.”

“Is there anybody in the firm who knows enough to do us harm?”

“A few folks, probably. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Make a list and gather them together. Be liberal, don’t overlook anybody. Have legal counsel remind them about their legal obligations to the firm, then offer a strong recommendation about the right to remain silent.”

“Easy enough.”

“You might want to consider a few quick overseas transfers. Anybody who looks like trouble, send them to the other side of the moon. Tomorrow wouldn’t be too fast.”

Walters nodded. What a relief to have the expert in scandals here, offering his sage advice.

Jackson rubbed his jaw and looked thoughtful. “Here’s the only happy news. Nobody was killed or harmed as a result of the polymer. At least we don’t have to worry about our exposure to lawsuits from distraught families.” He seemed to be rattling down a mental checklist titled “How screwed am I?”

“Right,” Walters said.

“However, the Pentagon might launch a big suit to recover its expenditures. It’s worst-case, but we need to consider it. How much have they paid out to date?”

Walters squirmed in his seat. He suddenly looked like his hemorrhoids were killing him. His eyebrows bunched together, and his lips felt rubbery. This was the one question he had hoped to avoid. He had lain awake the night before, sweating and contemplating the numbers.

He briefly weighed lying, or just fudging a bit. What would be the point, though? “Roughly three billion as of a month ago,” he mumbled, garbling his words, hoping they couldn’t hear him. “Might be another billion since then. Hard to say. A lot of big costs were front-loaded.”

Jackson heard him only too well and seemed to choke. “Four billion?”

“Or maybe five,” he admitted, looking away. Actually five and a half, he well knew. “What’s the difference?” His eyes shifted back to their faces. “I didn’t hear anybody complain when it was pouring in.”

Jackson began asking questions hard and fast, forcing Walters to disclose the full and complete possible financial damage. Walters tried his best to dodge and weave and trim, but Jackson was brutally relentless.

It began to sink in what a terrible finanicial disaster this could be; it was far worse than anybody had imagined. There was a bad case and a worst case; the difference between them was almost insignificant.

The bottom line was possibly six billion in direct losses-one promised to the Saudis, five to the Pentagon-plus many more hundreds of millions in sunk expenses-the hundred million paid to Perry Arvan, thirty-six million more to Arvan’s stockholders, twenty million to Wiley for his finder’s bonus, another twenty million spent on the influence-buying spree around Washington. Another three million frittered away to get the goods on Jack, money billed by TFAC, and over seven million in bribes paid to Charles and Wallerman, none of which would see the light of day on any corporate ledger.