Garrett King fell into blackmail quite accidentally.

You see, the men’s room at the accountancy firm where he slaved away as an underpaid auditor abutted a conference room. If the firm had been built to code, that would just have meant less running after a bladder-bursting meeting. But it was a product of the 70’s, when cheap and brutalist was the way to go.

As a result, King (and anyone else) could hear the discussions going on. Nobody ever fixed the problem because so few people used that bathroom–the executives all had private washrooms, and the rest of the menial workers in King’s unit used the ladies’ room (which let in sound from the copy room–the the great dismay of the participants in the Great Xerox Tryst of 2007).

So King was the only one who heard the brass wetting their beak on a kickback laundering scheme they were discussing with city officials. He cornered one his firm’s VPs int he supply closet later that week and issued an ultimatum: a promotion or a tape recording of the meeting would wind up on the SEC’s front desk. He was out of his cube farm by the end of the week.

But that wasn’t the end, no, not for Gary King. Not only had he found out that he was quite good at blackmail, he’d also learned that he quite enjoyed it.

  • Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!