Gavin stared at the documents Eleanor had placed on the counter. For the first time since I had known him, he looked genuinely uncertain about what to say. His usual confidence had vanished, replaced by a nervous expression he tried desperately to conceal.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” he began, forcing a smile, “I believe there may be some confusion. Our team worked very hard on this proposal. Everything was reviewed internally before it was submitted.”
Eleanor adjusted her glasses and turned to the first page.
“Then perhaps you can explain this.”
She pointed to a line item buried near the bottom of the budget. It listed a consulting fee of $700,000, supposedly payable to a company called Mercer Strategic Solutions.
I felt my stomach tighten.
I knew that name.
Three months earlier, while reviewing invoices for another campaign, I had discovered several payments to the same company. The descriptions were vague, the supporting documents incomplete, and the amounts strangely consistent. I had asked our accounting department for clarification.
The response had been brief: Gavin had personally approved the expenses, and I was not to concern myself with them.
I had assumed there was some legitimate explanation I simply wasn’t authorized to see.
Now the same company was attached to the biggest contract our agency had pursued in years.
“That fee covers specialized strategic consulting,” Gavin said quickly. “It’s a standard part of the arrangement.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“A standard arrangement with a company that has no clearly documented staff, no substantial public business history, and no explanation of what services it will provide?”
Gavin’s face lost its color.
“Those details can be supplied.”
“They should have been supplied before the proposal reached my desk.”
She turned another page.
“And why is this consulting fee nearly twice the amount listed in the preliminary budget your team sent us last month?”
Nobody answered.
I glanced at the document, recognizing the original budget figures I had helped prepare. The consulting charge hadn’t been there when I completed my version.
“Mrs. Whitmore,” Gavin said, lowering his voice, “I would prefer to discuss these sensitive financial matters privately.”
“Why?”
“Because there are internal business details that shouldn’t be discussed in front of employees.”
Eleanor closed the folder.
“Christopher was responsible for preparing much of this proposal, wasn’t he?”
Gavin hesitated.
“He contributed to the project.”
“Then I would like to hear from him.”
Every face in the reception area turned toward me.
I swallowed hard. Only an hour earlier, I had been packing my belongings after losing the job I had spent four years building. Now the woman who controlled the contract was asking me to explain a financial discrepancy that could potentially destroy my former boss’s career.
“The original budget didn’t include that fee,” I said carefully. “I prepared the preliminary figures myself. The consulting charge appeared in a later version, after the proposal had already gone through our internal review.”
Gavin immediately interrupted.
“Christopher, you don’t have access to every financial decision made by senior management.”
“That’s true,” I replied. “But I do have the earlier drafts. I can show you exactly when the figures changed.”
Eleanor nodded once.
“Can you provide those documents through the appropriate channels?”
“Yes. I kept copies of the versions I was authorized to work on.”
Gavin stepped toward me.
“Be careful about what you’re implying. Company documents are confidential, and unauthorized disclosure could have serious consequences.”
“I’m not implying anything,” I said. “I’m explaining what I personally worked on.”
Eleanor raised one hand, ending the exchange.
“No one is making an accusation today. But I will not approve a contract containing unexplained charges of this size.”
She handed the folder to her driver.
“Suspend the negotiations. Our finance department will arrange an independent review of the proposal and its supporting records.”
Gavin’s mouth opened slightly.
“Mrs. Whitmore, that could delay the entire project.”
“Then we will wait.”
She turned toward the entrance, then paused beside me.
“Christopher, I would appreciate it if you could meet with my team and answer some questions about the work you performed. This is not a promise of employment, and I don’t want you to mistake it for one. I simply want accurate information from someone who prepared the original figures.”
“Of course,” I replied.
“Good.”
She walked out without another word.
Gavin remained frozen beside the counter, staring at the closed folder as though it contained a verdict.
I picked up my laptop bag.
For the first time that morning, I wasn’t thinking about the job I had lost.
I was thinking about the $700,000 charge—and why someone had gone to so much trouble to hide it.
Continue The Story: PART 4: THE QUESTIONS I WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO ASK