Incredible. The report was incredible, incisive, and incriminating. And all from the youngest member of his team of I-men. How appropriate. Nettar Kooner read the brief paragraph again and reached for his phone.
“Come up here for a minute,” he commanded.
A few moments later, a light knock on the door and the team member stepped inside the well appointed office. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked eagerly.
Kooner held up the report and motioned to the chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat and tell me how the devil you came up with this information.”
The young man sat down, crossed his legs and explained. “I have developed a contact at a bank in Washington. She’s a clerk, she’s smart, and she’s from Delhi.”
Kooner steadied his gaze. “Go on.”
“I first met her at a party with other Indian friends. It became clear that she wanted to become more than friends. And in her position at the bank . . . it’s on Capitol Hill . . . I thought she might prove useful.”
“Good thinking.”
“When I took her out for coffee, I mentioned that I was putting together a folio on Davis Metcher. I indicated it was important to us . . . and to India . . . that we find out as much about him as possible. She’s not stupid. She’s a patriot. She knows we have contracts in Delhi, and she also knows that Metcher has an important vote on the Armed Services Committee.”
“And . . .”
“And she told me that she looked up his account and saw a curious series of regular transfers to another account. She told me the name on that account, and I did a bit of research. It turns out that it belongs to a young woman who was a congressional page four years ago and had to leave rather suddenly. And, as you can see,” he pointed to the report Kooner was holding, “it all fits together.”
“Amazing. And you believe this clerk is trust-worthy?”
“Oh yes. Why wouldn’t she be? Look at her motive. She’s trying to please me, and so she dug up the information. There would be no incentive on her part to tell anyone else. After all, she could lose her job.”
“Of course. Of course.” He studied the page in his hand. “So ole Metcher got a teen-age girl pregnant and has been paying her off ever since.”
“To support the child, sir. As you can see, he also set up a custodial account for the little boy.”
“Everyone knows the man has no morals when it comes to women. On the other hand, that description fits a few other congressmen I could mention.”
The young man looked up with a knowing smile. “This is true.”
“So no one pays much attention to his usual antics. But this . . . this could ruin his campaign for re-election . . . if it got out.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, sir,” the young assistant said rather smugly.
The CEO got up from his desk. The young man rose as well because their short meeting was over.
“Good work, my boy. Good work.”
“Thank you, sir. If you need additional data . . .”
“No, this is enough.”
As the assistant turned toward the door, Kooner added, “I don’t need to tell you to keep this to yourself . . . and your young friend at the bank.”
“No need at all, sir.”
“Is Arun still in his lab? I wanted to get an update on his research on Bandaq’s technology.”
“No, sir. I believe he left a bit early for a dinner appointment.”
“All right. It will have to wait.” Kooner waved his hand toward the door, dismissing his young aide. “Thank you again for your investigative work.”
“You’re welcome, sir,” he said as he quietly slipped out the door.