Page 120 - In Five Years
P. 120

My phone buzzes again. This time I pull it out and answer.
                   “It’s Dannie,” I say.
                   “Where the hell are you?” I hear my case partner Sanji’s voice through the
               phone.  She’s  twenty-nine  and  graduated  from  MIT  at  sixteen.  She’s  been

               working professionally for ten years. I’ve never heard her use a word that wasn’t
               absolutely necessary. The fact that she added “hell,” speaks volumes.

                   “I’m sorry, I got caught up. I’m on my way.”
                   “Don’t  hang  up,”  she  says.  “We  have  a  problem  with  CIT  and  corporate.
               There are gaps in their financials.”
                   We  were  supposed  to  complete  our  due  diligence  on  CIT,  a  company  our

               client, Epson, a giant tech corporation, is acquiring. If we don’t have a complete
               financial report, the partner is going to lose it.

                   “I’m going down to their offices,” I say. “Hang tight.”
                   Sanji hangs up without saying goodbye, and I book it down to the Financial
               District where CIT has their headquarters. It’s a company specializing in website

               coding. I’ve been there a little too often for my liking lately.
                   We’ve  been  in  constant  contact  with  their  in-house  counsel  for  over  six
               months, and I know how they work extremely well now. Hopefully, this is an

               oversight. There are tax reports and statements for a full eight months that are
               missing.
                   When I arrive, I’m let up immediately, and Darlene, the receptionist, shows

               me to the associate general counsel’s office.
                   Beth is at her desk and looks up, blinking once at me. She’s a woman in her
               mid-to-late fifties and has been at the company since its inception twelve years

               ago. Her office resembles her in its stoicism, not a single photo on her desk, and
               she doesn’t wear a ring. We’re cordial, even friendly, but we never speak about
               anything personal, and it’s impossible to tell what greets her at home when she

               leaves these office walls.
                   “Dannie,” she says. “To what do I owe this displeasure?”
                   I was in her office yesterday.

                   “We’re still missing financials,” I say.
                   She does not stand up, or gesture for me to sit. “I’ll have my team review,”
               she says.
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