Two thirty p.m.
"No, Dylan, I don't care how small the church auditorium of New Baptist Church is, the wedding is taking place there and that's final, if there's any touching that is needed before the wedding, you should start now and I'll forward the check to you." I hang up and drop the phone on the desk and pick up my ringing cell phone and seeing the ID as Phoebe, I answer it, placing it's to my ear.
"Hello," I say vibrantly.
"Hey, Rory did you finally talk to Dylan?" she asks eagerly.
I nod even though I know she can't see me, "Yes we reached an agreement, the New Baptist Church it is."
"Have you told Taylor yet?" she asks eagerly.
Taylor's family church is the New Baptist church and her mother worshipped there while she was alive. She once told me her mother wanted was to see her get married there and although I didn't care about that four years ago, I'm not forgetting it now. The church is a small church that can accommodate a maximum of a hundred seaters and so far we have reached two hundred and thirty guests and we are still counting. So I thought to make a little expansion in the church building before the day of our wedding which is fourteen more days to go.
"Not yet, I want it to be a surprise I'd give her tonight when I get home," I reply with a smile as I think of breaking the news to Taylor, I can imagine the happiness that will be on her face when she finds out the wedding is at her church.
She didn't push me to make the church the wedding venue, but I think she deserves to have it so.
"I can tell she's going to be happy." I hear Phoebe and I nod, agreeing with her.
"I hope she will be." The desk phone begins to ring for the second time in five minutes, "I've got to go, Phoebe, take care."
"You too," she replies and I end the call before picking up the ringing desk phone.
"Mr Gates," my manager called out with a worried tone as if someone just died.
"Yes, Mario?"
"It's bad news, sir," he replies and my brow raised brow and my mind begins to wander to what the bad news maybe.
Tell me no one dies.
"What about it?" I demand, knowing Mario always likes biting around the bush.
"Mr Jonny just called and the cheque bounced at the bank."
I frown, "What's that supposed to mean?!" the tone of my voice growing offensive.
There is no way the cheque would bounce because what I requested is a little part of the money saved.
"According to Mr Jonny, the bank says there isn't such amount left in the company's account," he answers and I haven't heard him say anything as ridiculous as this since he started working for me.
I angrily end the call and dial Andrews Morgan, our chief account office's number and after a few rings he picks up.
"Hello, sir?"
"My manager just called me, he said the bank told Johnny the company does not have enough money in the account anymore, what the hell does that mean."
"Sir, I tried bringing your notice to it last week, but you were busy with the engagement, I submitted the bank statement to you, sir," he explains which still doesn't help explain anything to me.
Bank statement about what? The company may have experienced a few steps back but we are picking up and moving with Taylor's help and we are growing higher there should be no reason for issues such as this.
I raise a brow, "What bank statement?" I ask, feeling my heartbeat grow from a steady beat into a rapid one
"It's a file you told me to leave on your desk last week and I didn't want to disturb you so much."
I begin to search on my desk and I find the document at the end of the desk, he was right, he did submit it but I never had the time to even check it out. I picked up the file I open it up and inside are the statement of the transactions made in the last couples of weeks about three and the inter-bank transfer and banking and I see that more than thirty-three billion has been taken from the company's accounts and transferred into many other bank accounts since then.
My heart sinks into my stomach and I crosscheck to make sure it isn't just a mistake, but so it is in the rest bank statement. Their dates ranging from three weeks ago to last week.
"On whose permit did this transaction happen?" I ask in surprise and utmost disbelief.
There is no way it could have gone past me without my knowledge, but it seems to have happened.
"On yours, sir, your signature was on every last one of them," Andrew replies in a certain tone.
This has to be a joke, it has to be a fucking joke because that's the only way all this makes sense!