"Robert Henson. May I help you?" He said into the phone. It was as much a command as a question. From the 46th. floor SW corner office, Henson stared out over Lower New York Bay where the Statue of Liberty reigned. "Thank you for taking my call Mr. Henson." The caller's proper Central London accent was engaging and conveyed assurance and propriety. "I am calling in reference to the proposed merger you are arranging between Second Boston Financial and Winston Ellis Services. I don't believe that the SEC will be impressed with the falsified figures you have generated to drive up your fees. Don't you agree." Henson bolted upright in his chair and glared into the phone. "Who the hell is this?" he demanded. "Merely a concerned citizen, sir." The cheeky caller paused. "I asked, sir, don't you agree?" "Listen," Henson shouted into the phone. I don't know who the hell you are, nor what you want, but all filings made with the SEC are public and available to anyone. Even the press whom I assume you represent . . ." "I am not with the press Mr. Henson," the voice calmly interrupt- ed. "All the same, I am sure that they would be quite interest- ed in what I have to say. Or, more precisely, what I have to show them." "What the hell are you talking about?" Henson screamed. "Specifically, you inflated the earnings of Winston Ellis over 40% by burying certain write downs and deferred losses. I be- lieve you are familiar with the numbers. Didn't you have them altered yourself?" Henson paled as the caller spoke to him matter of factly. His eyes darted around his spacious and opulent office as though someone might be listening. He shifted uneasily in his chair, leaned into the phone and spoke quietly. "I don't know what you're taking about." "I think you do, Mr. Henson." "What do you want?" Henson asked cautiously. "Merely your acknowledgment, to me, right now, that the figures were falsified, at your suggestion, and . . ." "I admit nothing. Nothing." Henson hung up the phone. Shaken, he dialed the phone, twice. In his haste he misdialed the first time. "Get me Brocker. Now. This is Henson." "Brocker," the other end of the phone responded nonchalantly. "Bill, Bob here. We got troubles." * * * * *