Helen viewed the DVD over and over for a full hour and still didn’t quite know what to make of it. She had imagined that Matt Kuhn, secretive Swiss banker, might be involved in something shady, but not this shady.
The cast of characters was mind-boggling and the action, while not fast-paced, certainly produced an adrenaline rush. Helen had watched the DVD several times to make certain she wasn’t mistaken about its content or the faces that took center stage.
Surprisingly, the quality was excellent, which, depending on one’s point of view, could be good or bad. From Helen’s perspective, it was great. Shot in a quiet corner of Madison Square Park, it showed the principal actors in clear, natural light. There was Suave Sal, silver hair gleaming in the sun, Matt Kuhn, not hiding his face for once, and one other participant.
Helen shook her head as the third man appeared onscreen once again, remembering her initial shock at seeing him on the DVD. She had no trouble identifying him as the camera moved in for a close-up as he tucked the nice, fat envelope from Sal into his breast pocket. Stuart Roth was the Deputy Superintendent of Banks. A high-ranking member of the New York City Banking Commission, he was in charge of its Consumer Services Division. It was a powerful position with make-or-break domination over New York’s affluent wheeler-dealers who wanted a shot at the banking industry. With its distinguished profile, his was a face favored by the media, and no one in the city would have any trouble recognizing him, either. Helen shuddered. If this video ever got on the news, the shock waves would reverberate from Wall Street to Gracie Mansion.
The saying “too much information” popped into her head. What do I do with this? I can’t keep it to myself and, given what the DVD contains and how I obtained it, I can’t share it with anyone—especially the police. I’ve really put myself in the middle of things this time. Her mind went into worst-case-scenario mode, offering up a myriad of visions of mayhem with one image in common: a fleet of long, black limos with Jersey plates stalking her like an army of ants setting upon the food spread out on a checkered tablecloth at a picnic. She gulped. I could get myself killed over this.
Helen stopped the DVD, hit the eject button and carefully placed it back in its case. She put it in her safe once again and spun the tumblers closed. Who can I trust enough to reveal what’s on this DVD? Only one person came to mind.
Looking at her bedside clock, she hesitated for only a moment before picking up the phone. He was probably sleeping like a baby. Too bad she had to interrupt his pleasant dreams with a nightmare.