Chapter 8 Adeline

In his personal life, Jeff Rosenberg had seemed to have it all sorted out.  At forty five he was married with a thirteen year old daughter, an eleven year old son, a wife he adored, and an already a substantial fortune.  Then he met Adeline. Twenty years his junior, she had come to work as his temporary secretary for a few days. At the end of the week’s assignment he had taken her to lunch just to say a simple thank you, but it didn't turn out that way. They spent the afternoon together at a nearby hotel and within a month had established a secret love nest in Greenwich Village. As happens, the secret only remained secret from his wife for about a year, and her discovery of the facts was followed by the inevitable ugly divorce, and substantial financial settlement. 

He knew he had never loved Adeline, but he became addicted to the sensual pleasures it seemed only she could provide. His new lifestyle among the liberated younger crowd that made up Adeline's, and now his circle of friends, never quite fulfilled him, and he seemed to be more driven than ever to not only replace the fortune he had to give over to his former wife, but to double it, then triple it. Making money become the ultimate aphrodisiac.

After Adeline took off with some younger buck some two years later, Jeff found himself marooned. He took solace in a series of sexual explorations which mostly only lasted as long as he was prepared to continue to supply the resources for the lavish life style demanded. He also explored other means of salving his mental anguish and soon was a frequent user of cocaine, then the yuppie drug of choice.  He frequented all the stylish clubs in and around the Village, using them as a source for both the next girl and the next fix.

One such club was JoJo’s, situated just west of the village on 39th street. The club was named for its owner, whose real name was Jose Garcia, but had long been called JoJo to differentiate him from the Jose after whom he was named, that Jose being a longtime friend and business associate of JoJo’s father, Frankie.

JoJo, was a big handsome man, and said to be not to bright. The club, on the other hand, thanks to an endless supply of beautiful girls (most it seems unable to speak English), and the financial support of the owners father, was definitely among the in places to be. The proprietor took care to get to know his customers, and would frequently join them at their tables to engage in conversation and small talk. The customers found this attention pleasing, and did not suspect that this personal attention was JoJo’s way of checking them out before all the services of the club were made known to them. As a regular, and approved customer, Jeff had no trouble sourcing any and all of the salves he needed to calm his recurring urges.

It was during one such visit to the club a few years ago that Jeff had been introduced to Frankie. After the usual pleasantries had been passed, Frankie asked, “I hear you sell stocks. I been feeling the need to invest. Could you take say five grand a week and invest it for me.” The request was quite normal, as was the suggestion that the deal be kept very confidential, “Don't need to let the family find out where I stash my money, do I.”

For Jeff the arrangements brought added benefits at the club, and he did not mind the weekly trip to pick up the investment in cash, and also did not object when the amounts grew to ten thousand, twice a week. However, when Frankie casually mentioned that he had some friends who had heard about the investments he was making, and wondered if they could also participate, Jeff knew that he would have to make some modifications to the process. It was also at about this time that he began to realize that perhaps what he was doing was more than it appeared. However, any reservations he may have had were calmed by the facts that nobody seemed to be getting hurt and he was making money, lots of it.

As his qualms faded so his need to make more money grew. His business was largely wholesale, selling his funds through agents and banks. This new process offered him an opportunity to go direct to the customer, and in so doing enhance his investor spread. Growing larger was very attractive business decision, so the retail division of Franklin Capital was born.

The business flourished, and a year or so later Jeff first met Jose. The meeting, seemingly casual, took place at JoJo’s and the two men were soon very comfortable in each other’s company. By this time Jeff had no illusions about the men that he was dealing with but he also knew that his activities had become an essential part of their “business”. He could see no harm in helping such men make investments, how could he know how anybody made the money they invested in his mutual funds.

And anyway, wasn’t a criminal just a businessman who had crossed a man-made line called the law, or was it that a successful businessman was just a criminal who had not yet been caught.

 

Bill Fernstine was only thirty five when his father in law Kobus Merkel died. The death really shook up his life in many ways, beginning with the fact that his mother in law, as sole heir to the considerable Merkel estate, took over as head of the firm, and became his boss. He was an obvious candidate to become President of the Services division, and to reward him for his diligence in the Cleveland matter he was also given a Vice Presidents role in the parent company. This V.P. title did not appear to carry much in the way of direct responsibility, so Bill gave all of his attention to he Services Division.

This actually suited Bill very well. The operation did not need much managing and the staff were all aware of the swift action he had taken in Cleveland. In addition there were many rumors that Bill himself might have been responsible for more than just the dismissal of the miscreants, their sudden demise being often discussed during breaks. As a result, the fear of him amongst all the employees was absolute, and the business ran like clockwork and made lots of money.

With lots of time on his hands, Bill concentrated on making himself wealthy. Having picked up the reigns from the late Pat O’Reily  he had been forced to understand the full implications of the source of much of the cash that moved through the organization. The knowledge at first scared him, but when it seemed that no one else knew or for that matter cared, he gradually lost his fear, and even occasionally risked some contacts with the shadowy figures who picked up the checks, and relayed messages about amounts and pick up points, referred to only as “the agents”.

Generally the contacts were most congenial, as it would be between any two business partners. Only first names were used, and paperwork was limited to hand written chits detailing the amount of each denomination of currency. Deliveries of the cash, always called “merchandise” was always accurate and on time. The only friction between the company and the “agency” was on volume. “Agency” always pressed for more, and Bill always resisted, pointing out that it would be too risky to change ratios.

 

In about the second year after his promotion, one of the junior V.P.’s at Merkel’s had talked about a new share issue that was being launched through a new venture capital division. Merkel was looking for outside investors for a few hundred thousand dollars to share the risk with them. The plan was that this mezzanine round would tide the client company over till they went public in about a year, at which time this rounds investors could cash out. A light went on in Bill’s brain. Here was another outlet for “agency” funds, and it could work well for him personally.

He arranged a lunch with the junior VP and explained that his client had never trusted banks, and kept her money under a mattress somewhere. The junior VP laughed, and said it would be no problem. “After all,” he laughed, “most of these companies spend the money so fast they don’t have time to take it to a bank themselves.”

And so it began. First it was a couple of hundred grand each time,  then half a million, and even a couple of rounds at three quarters of a million. The incredible part was that Bill seemed to have a real knack for picking the winners. So his “clients” not only found a good route to channel their cash funds, but also made some handsome capital gains along the way. Bill often smiled at tax time, wondering how his clients felt about paying tax on the money he made for them. They certainly paid little or no tax on their regular sources of income.

 

The placidness of Bill’s life was shattered when the war broke out in New York. All of a sudden both his investor clients, and his merchandise suppliers were either being killed or arrested. His business dropped off by nearly half. This bothered him greatly because his payroll customers needed the same volume as before the war began, and he was concerned that if he suddenly increased his draws of cash from the reserve bank, it would spark inquiries that he could not tolerate.

It was a great relief when he received a call from a man in New York,  

Sean O’grady. Although not his regular union contact, Bill had met the man before, and knew him to be safe. “I got a new client for you, a man called Columbus, same deal as before?”

The union override had long since been cut to one percent and the “discount” remained at five, “Yes, five plus one.” Bill said. Sean was happy with this, he had settled on six with Jose, the man who wanted to be called Columbus, so his personal cut was actually two percent. Two percent of fifteen mill a week, a cool three hundred thousand.