have to figure out how to see Doug. let’s not forget he’s what brought

  us here.”

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  WEdNESdAy MoRNING

  April 23, 2014

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  25

  D

  When we met for breakfast, Clovis reported that Micki was still in

  ICU, but her condition had been upgraded to stable. Paul had stayed

  with eric at the hospital all night, along with the two uniforms who sat

  outside her door and several others who weren’t so obvious. Sam and

  Clovis were taking no chances.

  I had to change shirts before we could leave for Micki’s office–egg

  yolk on my cuff and the front of my shirt again. Two burly guards met

  us—Clovis still wasn’t sure what to make of Mongo. Debbie showed

  no ill effects from the trauma of yesterday, and from the corner of my

  eye I caught Clovis admiring her tight jeans and tighter sweater. The

  entire time I’d known Clovis, I’d never asked whether he had a girl-

  friend; I was pretty sure he wasn’t married. Angie would have known

  that and much more within the first hour of meeting him.

  Moira had called to report that liz’s security was tighter than a drum.

  At my request, she had encouraged liz to remain in Memphis until

  I either talked to Doug or had news from the judge. Maggie quickly

  took charge at Micki’s office, reminding us that Marshal Maroney had

  agreed to meet with us this morning—we were due in ten minutes.

  Security at the courthouse was tight, and we were a few minutes

  late reaching the marshal’s offices on the fifth floor. I was surprised

  to see both Dub and Jim Bullock waiting in the reception area. We

  shook hands awkwardly, Dub’s palm damp in my grasp. I fought off

  the instinctive urge to wipe my hand on my khakis.

  He opened with, “I heard about lawrence. How awful.” His voice

  didn’t convey an ounce of sincerity.

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  Jim was more sympathetic. “How’s she doing? If there’s any way we

  can help, please let us know. Any idea who’s behind it?”

  “The police believe a man named Novak is responsible. He’s Rus-

  sian mafia—you know what those guys are like,” I lied. I was happy for

  everyone to think Novak was the guilty party.

  Dub jumped in. “That guy’s a piece of shit. I hope the police nail

  his ass. If it were my case, I’d be all over him. He wouldn’t know what

  hit him.”

  Dub was showing off—he had no intention of crossing Novak.

  “Technically, you do have the case. It’s a kidnapping in this district.

  Maybe your office is already working it?” Butter wouldn’t melt in my

  mouth.

  I watched him squirm. I bet Dub hadn’t talked to anyone in the

  U.S. Attorney’s office in weeks. His pompous and self-centered little

  brain was focused entirely on “his” task force, not the kidnapping of

  an adversary.

  “You might want to find out. The press might ask about your inves-

  tigation,” I suggested.

  Dub glowered and looked relieved when Marshal Maroney opened

  the door to his office, waving us into wooden chairs as he leaned against

  the front of his desk. He asked about Micki, and I told him what I knew.

  “Micki is good people. You tell Sam if he needs help keeping her

  safe, my people are available. I mean it.”

  After a pause, he reverted to his professional tone. “Mr. Patterson,

  I understand you have concerns regarding Dr. Stewart. That’s why I

  invited Mr. Blanchard and Mr. Bullock to join us. I’ve been ordered

  by Washington to do nothing in this matter without their knowledge.

  I hope you understand.”

  Before I could answer Dub broke in. “The accused is no concern

  of yours at all, Marshal. Stewart is our responsibility. You got that?” He

  tilted his chair back with an insolent grin.

  Maroney was pissed and let it show. “Well, he’s my concern when

  he’s in this courthouse, Mr. U. S. Attorney. You got that?”

  “of course, Marshal.” Dub’s tone made fingernails on a chalkboard

  sound pleasant.

  My turn. “Since you called my client ‘the accused,’ do you mind

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  telling me what he’s accused of? To my knowledge he’s being held in

  an undisclosed facility but has yet to be charged with a crime.”

  “Under the Defense Authorization Act of 2012, I can hold him

  indefinitely without charging him.” Dub’s chest puffed out, endan-

  gering his shirt buttons.

  “Are you classifying him as a terrorist? Seriously? If so, you have to

  turn him over to the military. They’ll probably be easier to work with.”

  Now I was pissed.

  Bullock stepped in before it got worse.

  “let’s all calm down. Judge Houston will make his rulings soon

  enough. You must have some reason to be here other than to trade

  insults with us. You know we’re not going to give you access to Dr.

  Stewart until the judge rules. . . ."

  Dub interrupted again. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before you see

  Stewart. If he rules against us, we’ll appeal, so don’t get your hopes of

  seeing Dr. Stewart any time soon.” Bullock couldn’t help but grimace.

  Dub had stupidly told me part of their strategy. Bullock had implied

  that we would have access in a matter of days. Now I knew better.

  Since part of the cat was out of the bag, I toned it down.

  “I asked to see Marshal Maroney both to update him on what hap-

  pened to Micki and to reiterate my concern for Dr. Stewart’s welfare.

  Marshal, since we’ve been denied access to our client, I need to know

  that whoever has him in custody is doing everything in their power

  to assure his safety, even if that means putting him in segregated

  housing. Micki is alive because of a lucky guess. I don’t want someone

  to be more successful when it comes to Dr. Stewart.”

  His glasses slipped down on his nose a bit as his eyebrows shot up.

  “You think the kidnapping and attack on Micki are related to the

  Stewart case?”

  Dub sputtered with impatience. “That’s horseshit. outrageous. Dr.

  Stewart’s case has nothing to do with Novak. You’re grasping at straws,

  Counselor.”

  Pointedly ignoring Dub, I spoke directly to Maroney. “Marshal, I’d

  feel a lot better if I knew where Doug is and could at least talk to him

  on the phone. It’s not like he’s going to escape or tell me where the

  crown jewels are hidden. His wife is worried sick about him.”

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  Dub gloated. “Ain’t going to happen. You’re not playing ball with

  your old high school friends anymore, Mr. Big-time Antitrust lawyer.

  You’re dealing with me now.” Dub looked at Bullock like he had set

  me straight. Clovis allowed himself a snort.

  Maroney looked unhappy, but shrugged his shoulders and said,

  “My hands are tied. I honestly wish it were otherwise.”

  Dub shoved his chair back noisily, “let’s get out of here, Bullock.” As

  he headed out of the room I heard him gloat, “Guess I showed him.”

  Clovis stepped between Dub and any reaction on my part. When

  the door closed, Maroney smiled.

  “Pity they left so soon. If they’d stayed, I could have told you both

  that technically neither Dub nor I have jurisdiction over the prisoner

  at the moment. once he was delivered to oklahoma City, his care

  and welfare was transferred to the Bureau of Prisons. That means

  Warden Mitchell in oKC has the last word on whether or not you

  can speak with your client. It’s his call whether Stewart can make or

  receive phone calls or confer with his lawyer. It’s not up to the judge,

  the marshal, or Dub’s task force. But since Dub’s not here, I can’t tell

  him that. Too bad—think I’ll just keep it to myself.”

  I smiled in return, and we shook hands.

  “You watch over Micki, you hear. She’s special. Tell her as soon as

  she’s ready for visitors, I’ll be there.”

  As we walked to the Tahoe I mused, “Clovis, you may have to hold

  me back if I have to be in the same room with that asshole again. He’s

  such an easy mark. I admit I enjoy baiting him, but it’s distracting, gets

  me off my game.”

  “I think Dub protests too much and too loudly. Did you see how

  defensive he got when you suggested that what happened to Micki

  could be related to Dr. Stewart? You could tell Bullock was troubled.”

  “So you think there’s a link?” I asked.

  “Didn’t say that. But I’m sure our U.S. Attorney knows a whole hell

  of a lot more about Micki’s kidnapping than he let on. His face is an

  open book.”

  I opened the door to the Tahoe. “Hmm—I’ll file that little tidbit

  away. It’s time for us to go to oklahoma City.”

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  26

  D

  Clovis called Walter’s pilot, while I punched in the number

  Maroney had given me. The warden picked up immediately.

  “Warden Mitchell, my name is Jack Patterson, and—”

  He interrupted. “Bill Maroney told me you’d be calling and why.

  Don’t waste your time talking.”

  My heart sank.

  “Get your ass up here before somebody tells me not to let you see

  your client. Shit, man, I deal with the worst of the worst, but they still

  get to see their lawyers. We don’t get many lawyers out here because

  we’re basically a warehouse, in and out in a few days. But if you can

  get here, I’ll let you in. Just bring ID, proof you’re a lawyer—a busi-

  ness card will do—and be prepared for a search of your briefcase and

  your person.”

  “Thank you, Warden. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

  “look forward to meeting you. I checked with some friends at Main

  Justice. You get nothing but respect. Maroney warned me to expect a

  call from some jerk U.S. attorney named Blanchard. If he reaches me

  and orders me not to let you in, I’ll have to comply; so if I were you,

  I’d get here quickly and quietly.”

  I thanked him, got the pilot back on the phone, and told him not

  to file a flight plan. Maggie was waiting for us on the curb, and Clovis

  sped to the airport. As soon as she was buckled in her seat, I told

  Maggie what had happened.

  In the air, the pilot radioed ahead for a taxi, and we found it waiting

  for us on the tarmac when we landed. I could see the prison facility

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  across the airfield, and within a matter of ten minutes we were being

  searched by the prison’s security guards. I’ll spare you the details.

  It’s enough to know that prison searches are very thorough. Warden

  Mitchell was waiting for us in a small conference room.

  “I apologize for the search, but sooner or later I’m going to have

  to answer to someone about your visit. It’s going to be a lot easier on

  all of us if I can say the two of you were treated like any other visitors,

  regulations followed to the letter. Mrs. Matthews, I especially apolo-

  gize to you, but you’d be surprised what people try to smuggle in and

  how. The rules exist to make sure nothing gets in, but one’s privacy

  does suffer.”

  Maggie was still a bit red in the face and said tartly, “I don’t suppose

  you have many women visitors.” Warden Mitchell smiled and then got

  down to business.

  “Dr. Stewart is undergoing a similar procedure as we speak. I

  seldom have inmates searched before they meet with their lawyers,

  but I’m following the book. Pick up your cell phones when you leave.

  Sorry, you’re allowed only pen and paper.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks for letting us see him on such short notice.”

  “Think nothing of it. Hell, I’ve never heard about not getting to

  see your own lawyer. What’s this world coming to? In case you’re inter-

  ested, right now Dr. Stewart is in a cell by himself. The facility is fairly

  empty. He reads, eats his meals, and sticks to himself.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  The Warden left the room, and in a few minutes a guard walked

  Doug through the door. I was relieved to see he wasn’t in handcuffs or

  leg irons. Maggie and I teased him a little about his emergent beard,

  and he parried that it was a sign of his good health. The smiles didn’t

  last long.

  “Before you ask me what this is all about, tell me about liz. Is she

  okay? And what else has happened? They won’t let me make a phone

  call, and I don’t understand why I’m here and not in little Rock.”

  I assured him that liz was safe in Memphis, updated him on the

  arraignment, the prosecution’s offer not to charge liz or seize the

  house, and a few other details. He was clearly relieved to learn that

  liz had been given a security detail and assured me that no one had

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  threatened him either in the county jail or here. Next came the ques-

  tion I was afraid he’d ask.

  “Where’s Ms. lawrence?” I looked at Maggie, and Doug quickly

  picked up on my hesitation.

  “What happened? What aren’t you telling me?” Not a question, but

  a demand.

  I lowered my voice and explained that Micki had been kidnapped,

  how we had found her and her current medical condition. Doug

  stared at me in silence, folded arms leaning on his knees, absorbing

  the facts. After a few seconds, he seemed to give himself a little shake

  and said firmly, “okay, I don’t know how much time we have. Someone

  is likely to bust in here any minute, so let me give you your marching

  orders, and then I’ll answer all your questions. okay?”

  “okay.” I was reassured to find that his strength of character was

  seemingly unaffected by his circumstances, his will and thinking pro-

  cesses still strong. The treatment he’d received could break a man

  pretty quickly.

  “First, thank you for arranging security for liz. I’m surprised she

  agreed to it, but whatever happens, keep it up. She’s in more danger

  than you know.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I told you, answers later, instructions first. Micki’s kidnapping is

  connected to all this.” He gestured broadly at the small room. “Don’t

  let anyone convince you otherwise. Second, you be careful. I’d bet my

  bottom dollar you’re next.” He looked at Maggie. “You should all have

  guards—every hour of the day. When they hear I’ve been talking, they

  aren’t going to hang around and wait to find out what you know. They

  won’t hesitate to take you both out. I’m sorry. I should have realized

  this earlier. I wanted to think I was the only one at risk.”

  Maggie asked, “What exactly do you know?”

  Doug smiled. “Instructions first.”

  “Jack, take their deal. Make sure you lock in the ‘no prosecution

  of liz.’ It kills my soul. A life’s work gone, but I couldn’t stand the

  thought of liz in prison. You say the deal is too good to be true. That’s

  because you don’t know what they’re getting in exchange. Take the

  deal. They can have my research—it’s what they’ve wanted all along.

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  once they get it, liz will be safe, you and Maggie too. God, I hope Ms.

  lawrence makes it.”

  You could feel the force of his pent-up energy lessen, and he began

  to ramble a bit. My brain swirled with too many questions to interrupt.

  “Can you imagine, a nerd like me having liz for a wife? She was so

  damn good-looking, and yet she chose to marry me. No one could

  believe it. She flirted with every boy on campus, occasionally went

  too far with a few, but always begged me to take her back. Can you

  imagine—me? They found my pressure point all right. They know I’d

  never let them harm liz. If it weren’t for her, I’d die before I’d give

  them my research.” He put his hands over his eyes, almost overcome.