Deadly Game. R. B. Conroy

College for the fall semester. Aware of the many horror stories circulating around town about the Massachusetts’s penal system, Barnes took the deal offered by the judge and was soon a pre-law student at Boston College.

      Sporting several scars, both physical and emotional, from his days as a gang-banger, the young Barnes immediately took to the more secure and civil environment at the ancient university. He was able to use his leadership skills honed on the mean streets of Boston to become president of his class both his junior and senior years.

      After graduating cum laude in 1972, his application to attend the prestigious Harvard Law School was soon approved. In his senior year, he was elected Head of the Harvard Law Review and graduated with honors in 1974. After graduation, he was immediately hired by one of the most esteemed law firms in Boston, where he practiced law until he, and his wife Ellen, decided to move to her hometown of Indianapolis in 1989.

      By all accounts, Barnes was considered to be one of the finest trial lawyers in both Boston and Indianapolis. The feisty litigator never forgot his days on the tough streets of Boston and was not opposed to using bullying tactics when he felt necessary. He would often confide to his wife Ellen that “courtroom battles were easy. If you win, nobody comes after you later with a stick and club. And if you lose, you don’t have to drag your battered body to the nearest emergency room for treatment.”

      While at Harvard he became heavily involved in the Young Democrats organization. He carried his political ideologies, spawned in the ultra-liberal Boston area, into his law career. He served brief stints as a prosecuting attorney in both Boston and Indianapolis. He gave generously to the Democratic Party and hoped to someday be appointed ambassador to his beloved home country of Ireland. With a new liberal President from Illinois just elected to office and the current Ambassador to Ireland about to retire, his chances seemed better than ever to fulfill his dream.

      Vito Taglioni, a childhood friend of President Moretti, had initially introduced Barnes to President Moretti a few years earlier at a fund raiser in Indianapolis. The two hit it off almost immediately. It wasn’t long before the then candidate, Moretti, and Barnes were speaking openly of the possibility of an Ambassadorship to Ireland. Just recently, Barnes had received a personal, hand-written note from the President reassuring him that he had not forgotten their discussions. He also thanked him for his “most impressive” support during the campaign. Barnes was elated, showing the note to anyone and everyone who would look at it. With his passions excited and his goal very much in sight, the determined Barnes was not going to allow anyone to stand in his way of becoming Ambassador to Ireland.

      ………

      Beads of perspiration glistened on Vito’s forehead. He shoved his BlackBerry into its waist holster and gripped hard on the wheel. The dressing down by the ill-tempered Barnes had upset him, but with the pending audit by Blue and Gates, he had to be on the best of terms with Barnes. Having Barnes displeased with him, if only briefly, only served to heighten his anxieties. Tough and macho looking on the outside, Vito, in many ways, was still just an insecure kid from Chicago.

      Vito glanced up at the large sign on the front of his office building as he swung into the parking lot. It read First Financial Securities, with an inscription below reading, Trust Is Our Middle Name.

      Parking in his reserved spot, Vito hurried inside. He hoped he could make it to his office near the front of the building without being stopped by one of his secretaries or young associates. With everything that was coming down, he needed the respite of his cluttered office to make a few very timely phone calls.

      As he hurried toward his office, the large open area was buzzing with activity. The big board, stationed high above the room on the east wall, was the center of attention for many of the coatless brokers as they looked skyward from their small desks to see if there had been any changes since they looked at the board just a few minutes earlier. Other brokers talked animatedly on the phone with prospective buyers and sellers, hoping to land that one big deal that could move them from their small condos in downtown Indy to the more exclusive enclaves of Carmel and Zionsville on the north side. With the recent blow-up of the bond market and the impending new regulations by the feds, time was running out for these wannabe dealers as they sought their fortunes in the fast-paced world of securities dealing.

      Vito’s hopes of clear sailing to his office were interrupted at the last second by a shout from his office manager, Cliff Stone.

      “Oh, Vito.”

      “The anxious owner stopped by the door to his office and turned to face the fast-approaching manager, “Yes Cliff?”

      “Got a minute? Something has come-up.”

      “Can it wait? I have some important calls to make.”

      The young man grimaced, “I don’t think so boss. I think we better talk now.”

      Vito paused and took a deep breath, “Great, now what?” he mumbled. “Come on in.”

      The two men entered Vito’s very messy office. Piles of green file folders were stacked on the guest chairs, on both corners of his desk and on top of the file cabinets on the back wall. The total lack of organization in his office would be a total embarrassment for most businessmen, but it didn’t seem to bother Vito. He lifted a few of the files from the chair in front of his desk and asked his manager to sit down.

      “What is it, Cliff?”

      Cliff quickly took a seat as Vito dropped the files on his desk and nestled into his large leather chair.

      “I’m here about the Blue and Gates request for the branch filings boss.”

      “Yes…yes, what about them?”

      “We can’t find Chicago.”

      Anything but Chicago, Vito thought. Eyes wide, he shot up in his seat and shouted, “You can’t find what? What the hell are you talking about?”

      Cliff spoke quickly, “It’s gone, its not there. We’ve looked everywhere.”

      “You’ve looked everywhere?”

      “Yes, it’s not here. I’m telling you boss, it’s not here.”

      Vito shook his head in disbelief, “We’ve done more than 600 million out of that office this year my boy! A legal firm is asking to audit our files from that office and we can’t find the branch applications we sent to the SEC! Is that what you’re telling me?”

      Cliff sunk down in his chair. “I’m afraid so.”

      Vito stood and began pacing back and forth behind his desk. “Alex Crane is on a mission to discredit me and we can’t produce the most basic of information. Why, it has to be here. I remember signing the request form.”

      Not looking at his boss, Stone opened the file in his hand. “Yes…yes you did. It’s right here.”

      He lifted the form from the file and handed it to Vito. “But that’s all we have. There are no market studies, no empirical data on population trends, industrial capacity, and so forth.”

      “Can’t we do that now and backdate everything?”

      “I asked Jason, in our accounting department, about doing just that and he said it would take weeks to gather that kind of information, especially since it pertains to conditions that existed more that a year and a half ago. And Alex wants copies of the applications in a few days.”

      Vito stopped in front of his chair. “Did you ask Jason to explain just how the hell this happened?”

      “Well…uh yes, sort of. Jason said that….”

      Vito interrupted. “Sort of!”

      “Well…uh, yes I did.”

      “Damn it, Cliff—spit it out!”

      “Uh…he said that Chicago was one of the last branches to be approved. Our SEC connection had approved the other applications sight-unseen. Jason was certain that the SEC wasn’t