Chapter 7: The Man Who Built the Trap
The second intermediary was a lawyer named Paul Strick.
Roman knew the name.
Not well — Strick operated in a different layer of the city, the kind of attorney who appeared in civil disputes and zoning hearings and whose name showed up in footnotes rather than headlines.
Careful.
Methodical.
The kind of man who made himself useful to powerful people by being invisible.
Roman had Marco pull everything on Strick within twelve hours.
What came back was more interesting than expected.
Strick had represented Arthur Greer — the retired planning commissioner — in a property dispute seven years ago.
He had also, more recently, done contract work for a private equity firm with offices in the Loop.
A firm whose primary investor, buried under two layers of holding companies, was the same federal prosecutor Roman now understood to be the architect of the entire arrangement.
The prosecutor's name was Daniel Greer.
Twenty-nine years old.
Eighteen months into his first federal appointment.
A record of aggressive financial crjme prosecutions that had earned him attention from people who tracked such things.
And a father whose signature appeared on a document that connected him, however indirectly, to Roman Vascari.
Roman sat across from Vincent Caruso in the penthouse study that evening and laid it out.
Vincent listened without interrupting.
When Roman finished, Vincent was quiet for a long moment.
"He's using his father's exposure as the foundation," Vincent said.
"If he brings a case against you, the judge gets drawn in.
The judge recuses himself or gets removed.
The ruling never happens."
"What ruling?"
"I've been trying to find that since you called me this afternoon." Vincent set a printed page on the desk.
"There's a civil case set for ruling in fifty-three days.
A class action against a pharmaceutical company.
The potential damages are north of four hundred million dollars.
The company's primary institutional investor—"
"Is the same private equity firm," Roman said.
"Yes."
They looked at each other.
"So Daniel Greer is protecting a four-hundred-million-dollar investment," Roman said.
"By building a federal case against me.
Using ledgers his intermediary stole from my warehouse.
To force a judge off a bench."
"And he chose you," Vincent said, "because your file already exists.
Because you're the kind of man federal prosecutors dream about.
Because all he needed was the right evidence at the right moment to make it real."
Roman stood and walked to the window.
"He didn't count on Hale getting frightened," he said.
"No."
"And he didn't count on Celeste."
Vincent said nothing.
Roman turned.
"She told Lena to watch for something like this six months ago.
She understood that someone would eventually try to use me this way.
She was paying attention to my operation more carefully than I knew."
"She was married to you for six years," Vincent said quietly.
"She understood how it worked."
Roman looked at him.
"I need those ledgers back before Greer can use them.
And I need something that puts Greer's conduct in front of the right people before he puts mine in front of the wrong ones."
"That's a narrow window."
"I know." Roman came back to the desk.
"Paul Strick is the link between Greer and Hale.
He's also the link between Greer and his father's exposure.
If Strick understands that his own liability in this is significant—"
"He might cooperate."
"He might prefer to."
Vincent looked at him carefully.
"Roman.
If you go at Greer directly — if this becomes a war — the collateral damage will be considerable.
For you.
For anyone connected to you."
Roman picked up the envelope with the three copied pages.
"I'm not going at him directly," he said.
"I'm going to give him the opportunity to walk away.
Once."
"And if he doesn't take it?"
Roman set the envelope down.
"Then he'll find out that the difference between him and me," he said, "is that I've been doing this for twenty years and he's been doing it for eighteen months."
The following morning, Paul Strick received a phone call from a number he didn't recognize.
The voice on the other end was calm and unhurried.
"Mr.
Strick," it said.
"My name is Roman Vascari.
I think you already know why I'm calling.
I'd like to meet today.
Bring whatever you think will protect you.
It won't be enough, but it will make the conversation shorter."
May you like
There was a long silence.
"Where?" Strick said.
