Page 71 of The Oligarch's Daughter

Paul at first shook his head, then, getting it, said, “I’ll join you.”

*

Outside the building, on Fifth Avenue, a knot of people stood around on the sidewalk smoking. The smoke irritated Paul’s eyes.

After exhaling a lungful of smoke, Chad said, “Thing is, Larsen was a Mormon.”

Paul nodded slowly. “And Mormons . . .”

“Don’t do drugs.”

Paul pictured Larsen, a tall, lean guy with floppy brown hair parted in the middle. Their VC guy. He dressed conservatively, in blue blazers over button-down shirts. Very uptight and a bit stiff. Not the personality type you’d expect to be doing speedballs. He remembered Larsen ordering ginger ale at the pizzeria.

“Right,” Chad went on. “But I got the sense that he was unhappy here.”

“Based on what?”

“On what he’d say to me in the break room or over email or whatever.”

“It’s a tough gig, working here.”

“Sure, but it’s tough anywhere in our business.”

“No doubt. So what did he say to you?”

Chad took a long draw, blew out a large cloud of smoke. Then he said, “He was complaining about some of the deals he was asked to make . . .” His voice drifted off.

“What—like insider trading or whatever?”

“Something like that,” Chad said vaguely.

“You think—you really think—they did it? Like some . . . Russian or something?”

Chad blew out again, a whole lungful. He shook his head. “Hell do I know? Just . . . just don’t do what Larsen did. Don’t put your unhappiness in writing. Or say it aloud in the office. Again. Understand?”

Paul nodded.

“You know your email is read, right?”

“I guess they have the right to do that, legally.”

“They do,” Chad agreed. “I’m telling you, there’s no such thing as privacy here.”

“Even in the bathroom?”

He shrugged. “Unknown.”

“Wow.”

“You know the rule around here.”

“Keep your mouth shut?” Paul said.

“You know it. Larsen broke the rules. Sounds like he talked to outsiders.”

Paul felt dizzy. His mouth went dry. “How would anyone know that?”

“I don’t know. The phones, maybe? Or maybe someone saw him meeting with someone from the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Anyway, he was terrified.” Chad’s voice grew quiet, hard to hear over the traffic.

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