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“Could it be just someone talking?” Grosse said.
“Always could be that. And it could be a solid tip. His last one was. Service industry people are a tight community.”
Payne began writing an e-mail.
“There will be a lot of cops there, escorting the VIPs,” Aimee said.
“Guys working for Dignitary Protection,” Payne said, nodding. “I’m sending a note now alerting the guy in charge of that.”
“Earlier today,” Grosse said when Payne put down his phone, “I put in a call to Tom Brahman.”
“That Texan venture capitalist?” Payne said. “My guys never got their messages returned.”
“No disrespect intended, but they’re cops. And I’m a lawyer representing the heiress of a billionaire, among other wealthy clients. My calls tend to get returned promptly.”
Payne made a face, and nodded. “Good point.”
“I found it very interesting that Kenny Benson would accuse Tom of a short and distort in a filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission when it turns out that he apparently was doing exactly the opposite with NextGenRx.”
“Why do you say that?” Payne said.
“Slideware,” Grosse said.
“I haven’t heard this,” Aimee said.
“Brahman said he wanted to believe in Benson’s technology, wanted to invest, and, of course, have it make a fortune. He’s one of about seven hundred venture capital firms in the U.S. They invest some fifty billion bucks each year. Seeing, say, mere millions go up in smoke when a start-up dies, well, that’s just the cost of doing business. Because the others are going to make money.”
“But not NextGen,” Aimee said.
Grosse shook his head.
“Brahman said his research people found that devices measuring glucose through noninvasive methods simply don’t work. That’s a basic science that the fanciest computer coder cannot replicate. And that makes this NextGen contact lens just another so-called brilliant breakthrough known as slideware.”
“Slideware?” Payne repeated.
“Yeah. That’s what Silicon Valley calls things that work only in PowerPoint presentations. Nothing is going to replace the definitive testing of the glucose in blood because that’s the most accurate reading of glucose levels. While, yes, there is glucose in tear fluid, its levels are easily altered by humidity and temperature and other factors. Not so with actual genuine blood.”
“And that’s what the scientist who committed suicide learned the hard way,” Payne said. “So they were working a pump and dump.”
“Brahman also told me John Austin is not a huge player. He cherry-picks the smaller venture capital types, as opposed to the enormous institutional investors, which have layers of oversight and don’t invest off-the-cuff. But smaller shops can—and do. Especially when it’s with a known name.”
“Such as Morgan,” Payne said, nodding.
“What Johnny does is solicit contributors to his funds with the Morgan name. They are legit funds—for example, Morgan Partners Florida Capital Fund III—but they’re philanthropy funds that Camilla Rose controlled, not Morgan International’s. He doesn’t outright misrepresent the funds, as such, but he also doesn’t go out of his way to disabuse investors, should they think that. He’s promising people fifteen to twenty percent returns when the market is offering everyday investors three, four if they’re lucky.”
“It’s a Ponzi scheme,” Payne said.
“Pure and simple. Paying early investors high rates with the money from new investors who don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of seeing even zero percent.”
“How did that happen? You said even people who should know better got suckered by him.”
“Camilla Rose had the latitude. Mason’s hands were full, and, according to Austin, she raised enough hell about their father’s will being changed that he decided it was a battle best not fought. So she gave the money to Austin, who used it to pay the high returns, which, in turn, brought in more investors.”
He paused, then reached in his briefcase, pulling out what Payne recognized as a prospectus.
“You have heard, I trust, of the phrase buyer beware?” Grosse said.
Payne nodded.
