Storm's Cage by Mary Stone (uplifting novels .TXT) 📕

Lips pursed, Glenn drummed her fingers against the table. “Well, you and Agent Storm just took down a human trafficking ring that had been hiding behind Premier Ag Solutions, and we know Young is pretty close to them. At least business-wise. It’s more or less like going to talk to the friend of someone you just arrested. All we want to do is ask him about Premier so he can help us make sense of what happened in Kankakee County.”

“That makes sense. I just can’t help but feel that it’s a bit like we’re…I don’t know.” He blew out a quick breath. “Like we’re tipping him off. Like he’s going to see these two FBI agents show up at his office, and he’s going to automatically think we’re on to him. When, honestly, we aren’t. We’ve got information here that strongly points to Young being in bed with Premier, but a politician schmoozing up to a big business is about as common as snow in Russia.”

Glenn held out her hands. “Exactly. And I’ve worked in Public Corruption long enough to know, in most cases, there’s no grand conspiracy. More often than not, people like Senator Young are just trying to bend a few rules and cut a few corners so their business makes a higher profit.”

Zane flashed her a curious glance. “Is that all you think this is?”

Leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table, Glenn rested her chin in one hand. “I think it’s a distinct possibility. There’s a chance that Young is as much a pawn in Premier’s game as anyone else. Which is why we’re going to go talk to him today. I’m interested to hear his take on what happened out in Kankakee County.”

Her explanation made some sense, but Zane wasn’t entirely convinced. The calculating look in Glenn’s eyes said she’d picked up on his waffling perspective too.

Glenn reached for a pen. “Try to keep an open mind, okay. More often than not, there isn’t a grand conspiracy behind a greedy CEO or a politician who overextends their reach.” She used the end of the pen as a pointer as she focused on the overflowing board of papers they had amassed. “Corporate blunders, such as working with a labor contractor who has a history of failure to vet its employees’ citizenship, are rarely part of a malicious long-term plan.”

Zane definitely understood the temptation of higher profit margins, as well as the disconnect between executives and the working man. He held his expression neutral as he leaned back in his chair, listening to Glenn’s explanation.

“Executives like Stan Young.” She pointed to the part of the board where his picture had been pinned. “His type only sees the lower price point offered by Premier. It’s all about the bottom line. So, he jumped on board without bothering to ask questions. When a person was as disconnected from the ground-level operations of their business as Stan Young was from Happy Harvest Farms, all they pay attention to is the bottom line.”

He had to admit, she was echoing some of his own thoughts. Zane’s chair squeaked as he linked his fingers behind his head. “So, you truly believe Stan didn’t have the faintest clue that Premier Ag Solutions was linked to the Leóne family?”

With a haughty quirk of her eyebrow, Glenn’s expression brightened. “I don’t think Stan Young or the executives at Premier were aware that they were being used as a front for a crime family’s forced labor trafficking ring.”

Her confidence was convincing, but something still wasn’t adding up. Zane’s brow furrowed as he tried to pinpoint the missing piece that still niggled at the back of his mind. “Let’s say I’m on board with this theory. Why then didn’t anyone, especially with an in-house accounting team, notice discrepancies in their financial records?”

Glenn slammed her hands on her hips. She stared down at him as if he had asked her if the sky was green. “Hello. The only aspect of a business that matters to the people at the top of the skyscraper is money. If the dollar signs are going in the right direction, no one asks questions. Greed, incompetence, and willful ignorance. That’s just par for the course in investigations like these. And the stuff Ben Storey turned over to us looks just as cookie-cutter.”

Hard to argue with her rationale. It was her area of expertise, after all. Not to mention, Zane couldn’t forget Storey’s position as a challenger to Stan Young’s senate seat in next spring’s primary election. Exposing willful ignorance or egregious oversight in Young’s agricultural enterprise would benefit Storey in the polls.

Maybe he was overreacting, and this whole investigation was one politician’s effort to throw his competition in a bad light.

Zane reached for the warmth of his latte. “You know, you’re probably right. We get the interview with Young out of the way today, and then we can turn our focus to Premier. If Young had anything else to do with them beyond what we already know, then he’s bound to show up again.”

Glenn rolled her chair away from the table. “Exactly. So, what do you say we go get a head start on this interview? It’s going to take us at least a half hour just to get downtown.”

As he pushed to his feet, Zane grabbed his coffee. “At least a half hour. If we’re lucky.”

Senator Stan Young presented himself as personable, polite, and charismatic. Zane could see how the man had come so far in politics. As Young introduced himself, he exuded a genuine air of respect for Zane and Glenn’s profession.

The senator led them down a hall to an office that, despite its impressive view of the Chicago skyline, wasn’t as large or opulent as Zane had expected.

Sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the room, and a series of bookshelves took up much of the right-hand wall. Along with a few decorative vases and an antique tractor