Part 3
Tatyana Vorona sat in the waiting room of yet another corporate office in downtown Odesa. The chairs were immaculate and far nicer than the offices she’d worked at Kyiv. There was little attempt at looking new or modern, SMO was clearly a firm backed by old money, with rich wooden doors, warm gold lamps, and hardly a fluorescent lamp in sight.
She tugged on her black pencil skirt, trying not to be intimidated and knowing she looked like a fish out of water in this luxurious office. The secretary of the woman she was supposed to meet was better dressed than she was.
Tatyana wasn’t accustomed to paying close attention to her wardrobe. At her first job, she’d worn smart wool slacks, white shirts, and a few different sweaters to work. It was a medium-size firm in Kyiv that employed mostly young people, many of whom wore sneakers to work instead of heels.
After she’d had to move back to Sevastopol, Tatyana had worked from home and gradually given away or sold most of her professional wardrobe, save for this ill-fitting pencil skirt and sweater combination.
It shouldn’t matter how she was dressed. Her hair was neatly coiled into a bun at the back of her head. She’d put on a little bit of makeup, and most importantly, she had paperwork, digital and paper files, and a printed record of her work history, along with her former employer’s ties to this firm.
And the laptop.
Zara had been adamant that the laptop Tatyana used for her bookkeeping not be tied to the internet in any way. She’d only gotten the job after she could prove to Zara that no one would be able to hack her computer, and that all the information she needed to store could be stored in paper files.
The woman was paranoid, but she was paranoid with good reason because Tatyana had made numerous backups for her work. She didn’t tell Zara, of course, but Tatyana knew that paper could be lost and digital backups lasted forever.
Working for the paranoid woman was the only job that Tatyana had been able to find in her childhood home, and after her grandparents had passed, she and her mother desperately needed money if they wanted to keep their home.
Zara was eccentric, but she’d paid well. Until she didn’t.
Tatyana took a deep breath and tried not to tap her foot with impatience.
The secretary glanced up and offered a kind smile. “Ms. Beridze is on her way into the office. She was traveling last night, and sends her apologies for being late.”
“It’s fine.” Tatyana gave her a tight smile. “I appreciate her time.”
“Of course.”
Beridze was a Georgian name. Since she’d walked into SMO International, she’d met Ukrainians and Russians, of course, but also accents from Armenia, Romania, and other Black Sea countries. Muted phone conversations around her were conducted in English, Russian, Chinese, and other languages she didn’t recognize.
Elene Beridze was the Chief Financial Officer for SMO, the labyrinthine conglomerate that Zara’s company had operated under, once Tatyana had picked through layers and layers of paperwork.
It had taken months to find the connection between SMO International and Zara, even after calling in favors from old friends. SMO seemed to be as archaic in some of their practices as Zara had been, and not much was online.
Tatyana cleared her throat. “If there’s someone else I could meet about compensation so I don’t have to take Ms. Beridze’s time—”
“No, no.” The secretary was quick to jump in. “It’s no trouble. She wanted to meet you personally.”
So you don’t report us to regulators.
It was the unspoken subtext to all her conversations thus far. First, she had to convince the receptionist in the front office that someone in accounting really did want to talk to her. It was only when someone in a suit walked by and overheard Zara’s name that she got attention.
Then she had to convince the person in accounting that she wasn’t speaking fiction.
Five people later, she’d ended up on the fourth floor of a luxurious office situated in an old mansion located in the north end of the Prymorskyi District. She could smell the ocean outside and a deep breath of Black Sea air shored up her confidence.
She had worked for six months without pay.
She deserved her money.
And judging from the crystal water goblets by the decanter on the sideboard, this company more than had the funds to pay her.
Muted footsteps sounded in the hallway as Tatyana looked away from the cut crystal decanter and back toward the door.
An attractive woman with a chic grey bob and a burgundy suit walked over the threshold, accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man carrying a briefcase. She looked to be in her mid-fifties and her appearance shouted money in the most low-key way.
In Sevastopol, Tatyana was accustomed to women with money displaying that wealth with designer handbags and jewelry that could blind you. This woman was the opposite of that, and far more impressive.
“Miss Vorona?” She smiled graciously. “I’m Elene Beridze, and I apologize for keeping you waiting.” The woman spoke in English with a demure British accent and reached out, offering Tatyana a handshake.
Tatyana took her hand and shook it, responding in English. “It’s no problem. I only hope we can settle this. I know it’s a very awkward situation.”
“Thank you for your patience while we sorted things out.” She reached back for a briefcase her companion was carrying. “Why don’t we speak in my conference room?”
“Of course.” Tatyana glanced out the window as she followed the executive down a wood-paneled hallway. She’d been waiting so long the sun was already setting. “What time do you think—?”
“This shouldn’t take much longer, but to go over all the paperwork to settle your back pay, you might need to come back tomorrow morning. Again, I am so sorry for the wait. I had to travel unexpectedly last night. You’re staying in town, yes?”
Tatyana nodded. “At a hotel.” A run down tourist trap, but it was cheap and clean.
“I hope you realize we will be compensating you for all of your travel expenses as well.”
Elene Beridze ushered her into a conference room dominated by a wooden table carved with a rose detail. There was a crystal chandelier overhead and a gilt-framed mirror dominated the longest wall.
Tatyana tried not to stare. A gold flower from the edge of that mirror could probably pay her mother’s expenses for a month.
“You never should have had to track us down as you did,” Elene continued. “So the expenses related to that will be reimbursed. We have an agreement for employees who need to stay in town at the Admiral Hotel. Could we put you in a room there on our account?”
Tatyana blinked. “That’s all right. I only want to settle this as quickly as possible so I can return to my mother.”
“Of course.” Elene motioned for her assistant to pull out a chair for Tatyana before she dismissed the man. “Please join me. I’ve seen the copies of the paperwork you’ve already submitted, but I have a few questions.”
“Of course.” Tatyana took a deep breath. “Are those questions related to all the money that Zara stole from you?”
Elene froze and her only movement for a few moments was a long blink. “You’re direct, Miss Vorona. I appreciate that.”
Tatyana looked around the office and decided that she currently had nothing to lose. “I’m not interested in dishonesty, Miss Beridze. I approached SMO because I needed to be paid, but also because I knew that Zara was probably running two sets of books.” She placed her hand on her messenger bag. “I have the real accounts. I would like to be paid the salary that I am owed, but I can also make myself available to help you find the money that Zara stole.”
There was a flicker of amusement in Elene’s eyes. “As I said before, I appreciate directness.”
“Then you should also appreciate that whatever money I recover for you, I will expect a percentage of it.” It was a huge gamble, but day after day in SMO’s offices made Tatyana bold. “A finder’s fee.”
And desperate.
Elene smiled a little bit. “You want a finder’s fee for telling us you helped Zara embezzle money from our corporation?”
“I’m only a bookkeeper, Ms. Beridze. I embezzled nothing. In fact, I worked for six months without pay.”
Elene lifted her chin. “This is true.”
Tatyana kept her hand on her messenger bag. “I compiled accounts and organized money, which I believe I can help you recover. It is not illegal to receive a consulting fee in this situation, but it is illegal to file false tax reports, as Zara must have done under your corporate aegis.”
Elene cocked her head. “An interesting choice of words,” she murmured. “So you are saying that if we cannot come to an agreement, you will be reporting SMO to regulators in Sevastopol?”
“As an employee that could also be held responsible for any trespass of the law, I would feel a responsibility to come forward if I knew illegality had taken place by my employer.”
“Are you attempting to blackmail us?”
Tatyana didn’t flinch. “Not at all. I am very sure that all of Zara’s actions were taken without your consent and…” She chose her words carefully. “I trust that a firm with the reputation that SMO International carries would correct all those reports once the theft has been reported and the money is recovered.” Fat chance that they would, but that wasn’t Tatyana’s responsibility.
“Of course,” Elene said. “If a violation was proven to us, we would report it to the proper authorities.”
“But to prove SMO is not involved, the company would have to recover the money first.”
Elene leaned forward. “And you can do that for us?”
Tatyana fixed a confident and cool expression on her face. “I can.”
The corner of Elene’s mouth flicked up. “I hope you don’t mind late nights, Miss Vorona.” She glanced at the darkening sky out the window. “Because there’s one more person you are going to need to meet.”
Copyright 2024, Elizabeth Hunter All rights reserved.