Page 190 of Broken
His accounting director stood in the doorway.
“Hershel, come on in.” Prescott gestured to the guest chair.
Francis closed the door behind her as Hershel sat down.
“I have the information you asked for.” Hershel glanced over at Jacqueline.
“It’s okay,” Prescott said. “What did you find?”
“Four months ago, TopCon was paid twenty-three thousand,” Hershel began. “Two months later, thirty-five thousand. Last week, I got an invoice for two hundred thousand.”
“Have you paid it?” Prescott asked.
“Not yet.”
“Don’t.”
Hershel shifted in the leather chair. “It’s a legit invoice.”
“That can’t get paid, but this needs to stay between us,” Prescott said.
“Prescott, I need more than you telling menotto pay an invoice for a job that was approved by the board.”
“Maybe not. Who approved the first two payments?”
“Artemis,” Hershel replied. “He even came downstairs and signed off on the one for two hundred thousand. He told me to call him when the check has been cut and he’ll see that it gets to the consultant.”
Frustration made Prescott’s blood boil. “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. I can’t say much yet, but TopCon isn’t actually doing any work for us.”
Hershel eyes grew large. “And you have proof?”
“I will,” Prescott replied. “When’s your department scheduled to cut the check?”
“In the next few days.”
“I’ll know sooner than that. If Artemis comes down looking for it, stall him.”
“I do not want to lose my job by telling the CEO that he can’t have the money to pay an invoice for a job that was approved by the board.”
“You won’t lose your job.”
“Can I get that in writing?” Hershel stood. “I have a sick feeling about this.”
“You’re doing the right thing. Call me directly for any reason.”
After Prescott gave Hershel his mobile number, he left.
Prescott did an Internet search for TopCon Consulting, but found nothing, so he searched the DC, Virginia, and Maryland business databases. Nothing in DC or Maryland, but he got a hit for TopCon in Virginia. After clicking on the business, he read through the information listed.
“Gotcha,” he said.
TopCon was a DBA, owned by Artemis Armstrong.
He strode out of his office, stopping in Francis’s doorway. “I need to call an emergency board meeting.”
“For when?”
“Early afternoon,” he replied. “I need Hershel Jones in the meeting. Tell him to bring everything he has for TopCon, and donot, underanycircumstances, include Artemis.”
