The Banquet's End (2)
The full-suited getup I'd thrown on after ages had an effect that even I had to admit was powerful.
-Rustle.
"Go on, spit it out. I'm dying to hear what excuse you've cooked up."
With my long hair cascading down, I flashed a cool smile. Maybe it was because he was a useless, corrupt accountant with no power or ability—but quick on the uptake, at least—this guy named Friling hesitated before spilling the truth.
"…I, I don't know! I don't know anything!"
"Don't know? Anyone who's even glanced at the Madoff Fund would know better."
"I… I just stamped the papers they sent me. I had no idea where the money was going."
It was shocking that an accountant didn't even know his own books, but I bought it.
'Hmm, so that's how it is. Makes sense.'
The best way to keep a secret in a massive operation like this? Don't share it with the underlings. Sure, the grunts handling the real work might act inefficiently without knowing the big picture, but in cases like this, it didn't matter much. They were just doing simple tasks, after all.
"Well… as an accountant, you know that's a one-way ticket to prison, right? Even if you don't know exactly what the Madoff Fund was up to."
His face went sheet-white. For the scale of his crime, the guy was a total coward.
"Wh-what do I have to do… Pl-please spare me!"
-Thud.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed, begging me. Realizing the person in front of him couldn't harm me, I spoke softly, like soothing a child.
"You should be saying that to the prosecutors, not me. But if you cooperate fully, you might be okay. Your office doesn't look like you took much unfair profit… probably just a year in jail, tops."
Snicker.
I patted his shoulder with a light laugh, and Friling trembled even more. A year was dirt cheap for what he'd done.
"I heard the accounting firm handling the Madoff Fund recently switched. Anything you know about that? Arthur Andersen."
"…."
Doesn't know? Or… hmm.
"Don't tell me you're planning a plea deal?"
"…!"
Nailed it. Dumb as a rock, but great at self-preservation. Good news for me, though. If he'd even tank for us, why say no?
"Haha, relax. Seriously, I don't care if you get guilty or not guilty. You think handing over everything here means a longer sentence… yeah, you're probably right. Smart cookie."
"Th-then…."
Friling glanced around, eyes darting. Figured even he knew acquittal was off the table. I leaned in with a knowing smile and whispered,
"One last chance. Confess your crimes and blow the whistle on the Madoff Fund. Yourself."
"M-me?"
"Yep. When the audit team shows up and you realize the secret's out… that's when your conscience finally kicks in from the guilt and pressure. You report it then. Oh, and we'll tip off the SEC and feds ourselves, of course. Timing… you'll handle that, right?"
If you don't want jail.
I swallowed the last part, but everyone here got the message.
Striding in like a triumphant general, I handed the neatly compiled files to the audit team—arranged so anyone could spot something fishy.
And naturally, the foundation erupted in chaos.
"Th-this… ahem, I'm not seeing things, right?"
"Holy… uh… Well, at least we switched to Arthur Andersen now, so maybe it's fine? Hopefully…."
"You think that'll fly? This is stuff Madoff couldn't possibly miss. They probably demanded it first—'just fake some docs and send 'em over.'"
One director in denial got snapped at by another who'd snapped out of it—the only board member who hadn't dumped personal cash into the Madoff Fund.
Then someone muttered,
"…So, what do we do?"
"…."
"…."
No one had an answer. Even without clocking it as a Ponzi scheme yet. It was straight-up criminal, plain and simple. Something had to be off—like Madoff's boasted "special investment strategy" being total bullshit.
"F-first… let's pull the foundation's money out. The unfit investment criteria… where was that… Ah, screw it. Now that this is out, we can't keep investing, right? Pull the cash first."
The director who'd sunk about $100 million of his own into the fund—maybe that shock woke him up—finally broke a sweat and spoke up.
'Faster attitude shift than expected.'
Especially since he'd reportedly dumped nearly all his liquid assets in there. Or maybe that's why he reacted quick. His head was probably swimming with dollar signs right now—like realizing he'd left a stack of bills in a roaring fire pit.
"Y-you're Ha-yeon Yoo, right? Thanks for your work… I know you had a decent chunk in the Madoff Fund too—not as much as me, but still. Braving this for a foundation you're not even close to… appreciate it."
His words hit like vertigo.
-Thud.
"…Ah."
Shit.
I haven't pulled my money out yet. My $30 million!!!
I came to after blacking out briefly, reason restored.
'…Come to think of it, no big deal.'
Just a panic-induced shock at "losing" my money—but reconsidering now, I was fine. I'd get it back with interest anyway… and yanking it would hit Madoff hard.
"Miss, you okay?"
"Y-yeah. Fine, Young-il. Just dizzy for a sec. Probably from overworking lately…."
"Take a break while you're at it. It's out of our hands now anyway."
I nodded slowly. With experts on the case, it'd be courtroom battles for a while.
"What'd Queen Emanuel Law Firm say?"
Wasn't this moment why I'd built ties with them? Hoped they wouldn't disappoint.
"They loved getting all the docs. Haha, even a quick skim shows it'll be a massive win for them… and honestly, they half-doubted the Ponzi angle too. I was skeptical but hopeful myself…."
True. Who could've predicted Wall Street's star investor was running a Ponzi scheme?
"Oh, and… good or bad, the foundation's in an uproar internally."
"Lots invested in the Madoff Fund, huh?"
"Yeah. Luckily no one's blaming you much… but plenty of arguments over opinions."
I frowned.
"Even now, some still wanna keep delegating foundation funds there?"
"Nah. We've pulled the $300 million pile and put it on hold. Issue is… most folks in the foundation had personal stakes in Madoff."
Ah.
"All clamoring for their money back, right? Just as planned."
A wave of relief washed over me. Worth the long grind laying this trap. No need to roll the snowball ourselves or scheme where to tamper—Madoff had built a monster already. We just had to chain it up and engrave "Inevitability" on it.
Meanwhile.
A crack formed in director Spielberg's calm facade.
"…What do you mean? Say that again. The Madoff Fund got an unfit investment rating?"
The director with the devastated look nodded.
"Sadly, yes."
The story repeated for the dozenth time that day, reactions identical. Couldn't call it cliché. Like no one calls gun scenes in Spielberg films overdone—brutally real.
"…Any other possibilities? No hard evidence yet, right?"
"…Asked a buddy at JP Morgan. Says Madoff did 'nothing' with the money."
"Absurd! Then why no action if they knew? Common sense…."
"Common sense was assuming Madoff's reasoning made sense. JP Morgan did too. He didn't dump everything there, and no lowly employee dared challenge his authority."
-Sigh.
The director pinched his temple, eyes squeezed shut. The memory of wiring to the Madoff Fund still burned.
"So… our—no, my money?"
"…No idea."
No one knew the future, so no answers. Who could've foreseen this?
SEC, JP Morgan, Arthur Andersen, BBB, countless Jewish investors… Emails piled up endlessly.
Panicked investors demanded withdrawals; major accounting fraud triggered a swarm of agencies.
And the kicker:
"We're… short on cash."
His secretary closed her eyes, sighing in lament. The Madoff Fund's coffers were scraping bottom.
In other words, this massive Ponzi scheme was nearing collapse.
"…."
The banquet was over. A long, endless bill awaited Madoff.