Harvey Hamlin sat stiffly at his big oak desk wondering why Henry Sinclair was coming to visit him. Nothing had changed since their last meeting weeks ago when Sinclair had confronted him about the missing five million dollars from Congressman Bartlett’s campaign fund. He wondered if he was bringing the FBI with him to arrest him for the embezzlement. It was surprising to Hamlin that it hadn’t already happened, but Sinclair had kept a lid on it for some reason.
As usual, Hamlin had turned to the bottle when adversity struck. He hadn’t been sober a single day since the confrontation and his drunkenness had gotten him into more trouble. Not only had he yelled and cursed at a bank auditor, but he’d forgotten to close the vault when he went home the night after the verbal altercation. This had gotten him an official reprimand which put his job in jeopardy.
Sinclair showed up alone five minutes before the scheduled 11:00 a.m meeting. When his secretary announced he had arrived, Hamlin pulled out a bottle of mouthwash, took a swig, and swallowed it, grimacing from the harsh taste. Then he stood up, straightened his tie and went out to greet Sinclair.
“Henry,” he said as he extended his hand.
Sinclair shook Harvey’s hand and replied, “Thanks for meeting with me on short notice.”
“It’s no problem. Come on back.”
Sinclair followed him in the office and Hamlin shut the door. Hamlin took his seat at his desk and motioned for Harvey to sit across from him in a brown leather chair.
“So, are you going to have me arrested?” Hamlin asked.
“Well, that is an option I have discussed at length with the Congressman and his legal counsel, but your arrest will have serious ramifications not only for you, but the Congressman as well.”
“I know, Henry. I feel terrible about it. With enough time, I’m sure I can figure out a way to replenish the fund.”
“Come on, Harvey. You know that will never happen. What do think you’re going to do—win the lottery?”
“No, but—”
“Oh, I got it. You’re going to call your bookie and place the perfect bet, right. You got a tip on the Super Bowl or the Kentucky Derby maybe?”
Hamlin took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. The money’s gone. So, why are you here? If you are not going to turn me in, what do you want from me? What could I possibly do to make it up to the Congressman?”
Sinclair gave Hamlin a hard look. “There is one thing you could do.”
“What’s that?”
“You could steal the money from the bank’s vault and put it in the campaign fund.”
Hamlin chuckled. “Yeah. Like that would work.”
“Actually, I think it will. You have a propensity for leaving the vault open at night, right. Fred Fuller told me all about your little lapse last week.”
“So, big deal. The money wasn’t at risk. Nobody would have known about it had Fred not discovered it.”
“I don’t know about that, but if you were to do it again and the money in the vault disappeared, it wouldn’t be hard to make it look like Fuller took the money.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“Is it? You don’t think you could pull it off to stay out of prison. I think 5to10 years is what you’d get for embezzlement, isn’t that what your lawyer has told you? You have consulted a lawyer, I hope.”
Hamlin ignored the question. The fact was he hadn’t talked to an attorney. He hated attorneys and hadn’t even hired one for his divorce. “What about Fuller? You’d be willing to sacrifice an innocent kid like that?”
“I’m not sacrificing anybody. If anybody asks me, we never had this conversation. You’re the one who made this mess. You need to decide what you’re willing to do to make this nightmare go away.”
Hamlin ran his fingers through his coal black hair nervously. Then he stroked his chin thoughtfully. Finally, a glimmer of a smile came over his face. “Okay, hypothetically, if I made this happen. What about the two million or so after the 4.8 million is repaid to the fund?”
Sinclair shrugged. “Just make sure Fred Fuller gets caught with at least a million so people will think he acted alone and stashed the rest of the money somewhere. All we want is the money you embezzled returned and Fred to take the fall for the bank robbery. You can keep the other million or give it to the Salvation Army, whatever.”
Harvey nodded. “Okay. Let me think about this scenario. It might have possibilities.”
Sinclair stood up. “Good. This problem needs to go away. If it doesn’t and the Congressman has to cover this loss himself, don’t think that will be the end of it. He’s not going to let you walk away unscathed. Think about what is going to happen to you. You have an MBA, do the math.”
Sinclair turned and stormed out of Harvey’s office. Harvey stood up and began pacing. Do the math? What the hell does that mean? They want me to rob my own bank. Are they crazy? Do the math? What the—? Then it hit him. Oh my God! They’re gonna kill me if I don’t pull this off!