“Okay, okay, I get it,” he said, palms raised. “Only it’s not what it looks like. I mean, it is what it looks like. I am following you, Dr. Reinhart. But he didn’t ask me to.”
He? I should’ve known. “He, as in, Mathias von Oehson?”
“Yes. I work for his firm.”
“As a private detective?” I asked.
“No. No, it’s nothing like that,” he said. “Like I told you, Mathias doesn’t know I’m doing this.”
“So why are you doing it?” asked Elizabeth.
He reached into his pants pocket, removing a sterling silver business card holder. I’m pretty sure the last time I saw one of those was when I was watching Christian Bale in American Psycho. “Here,” he said.
Elizabeth and I were both handed a card. Raised lettering. Nice texture. It even had a watermark. Richard Landau, Chief Compliance Officer, Von Oehson Capital Management.
“I’ve known Mathias for more than twenty-five years. We were at Yale together. I’m the closest thing he’s ever had to a real friend, and I’ve never seen him so distraught.”
Landau folded his arms as if he’d somehow made everything crystal clear for us. In a way, he had. Just not in the way he intended.
“Are you protecting him or yourself?” I asked.
“Both,” answered Landau. “He’s convinced his son is still alive, and the only thing he told me was that he’s hired a college professor to find him. No offense.”
“None taken,” I said. “What more do you need to know?”
“For starters, that you actually know what the hell you’re doing.”
I nodded at his business card. “So this is about compliance, so to speak?”
“It’s more than that,” he said. “Our fund is worth more than one hundred forty billion dollars, and every penny of it rests on the reputation and good judgment of one man.”
I got it. “In other words, Mathias von Oehson can’t be seen as delusional or in denial.”
“And I shouldn’t have been seen at all,” said Landau. “You’re right, Dr. Reinhart. I’m not any good at this.”
“What would happen if Mathias were to discover that you were following me?” I asked.
“To be honest, I don’t know. But I wouldn’t want to find out.”
I glanced at Elizabeth. Your call, said her look.
Civilization as we know it would be nowhere without trust. We tend to remember betrayals most—Jesus and Judas, Caesar and Brutus, Benedict Arnold—but that’s only because they’re outliers. Suspicion isn’t innate. It’s a learned behavior. Just look into the eyes of a baby, if you have any doubt. What’s innate is the desire to believe someone. We want to trust. We need to trust. Every day. Doctors. Pilots. A crossing guard. The elevator inspector.
As well as the chief compliance officer at Von Oehson Capital Management.
What did Richard Landau possibly have to gain by lying to us? The answer seemed to be nothing. So as I shook his hand, confident that his amateur private-detective days were over, I truly couldn’t know for sure.
I’d just been played.