knew he was growing grass for research? Which, for the record, is still

  against the law.”

  “No—as of now, I can’t prove that.”

  “o . . . kay,” he said patiently. “Any proof as to why somebody would

  care that Doug was getting close to a breakthrough?”

  “No proof—yet.”

  “Any idea who might have ordered the hit on Micki and you, other

  than Novak?”

  “Somebody sent Moira to little Rock weeks ago. Who paid her and

  who ordered the hit, I don’t know.”

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  “And you don’t think it was Dub?” He kept his tone serious, but

  couldn’t control his face.

  “No, although he may have known about it,” I said, although my

  heart wasn’t in it.

  Sam laughed. “Any proof that leaving liz alone, giving her back

  her home, and seizing what little Doug Stewart had that can be traced

  to his marijuana enterprise isn’t as good a deal as it sounds?”

  “No, but I believe his research is worth a whole lot,” I answered

  defensively.

  “Any evidence to justify that belief?”

  “No.”

  “Jack, if I didn’t know better I’d say you’ve been eating too many of

  liz Stewart’s ginger snaps.” He winked.

  “You knew about her ginger snaps?”

  “Hell, everyone in town did. As long as nobody got sick eating

  them, I wasn’t going to bust her bridge club. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

  It sounds to me that when it comes to Dr. Stewart you’ve got nothing

  but vague theories. Possibly because you don’t have a defense to his

  growing hundreds of marijuana plants in his backyard?”

  “What about Moira? Who hired her? Someone did try to kill us.” I

  knew I sounded desperate.

  “That I don’t know, Jack. I’d lay odds on Novak or one of his com-

  petitors. or maybe it’s someone from your past seeking revenge.

  Don’t worry—I will find him, and I’ll nail his ass to a wall. ”

  I seized on his words. “okay, if I bring you hard evidence of who’s

  responsible for the kidnappings, you’ll keep an open mind to the rest?”

  “I’ll do more than that. Whoever it was, Novak, Dub, or the attorney

  general himself, I’ll go after him with everything I’ve got. But Jack,

  I’m not buying theories. I need hard evidence.”

  “That’s all I can ask.” I finally smiled.

  Neither Maggie nor Clovis had said a single word. Sam looked at

  them and asked, “What about you two? Are you buying this malarkey?”

  Maggie glanced at Clovis and said to Sam calmly, “Jack could be

  wrong this time, but somehow I don’t think so. And good burgers

  aren’t worth much cold.”

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  217

  So we spent a few minutes just eating our burgers. They reminded

  me of the ones you used to get as a kid at the swimming pool snack

  bar: hot, full of flavor and just a little greasy. I had accomplished my

  purpose. I didn’t have any proof, but I had planted a seed in the fer-

  tile ground of Sam’s mind.

  As we pushed our chairs back to leave, Sam commented, “Well, at

  least you have some time. Forfeiture sales don’t happen overnight. If

  there’s any proof out there, you’ve got plenty of time to find it.”

  In lilting tones Maggie began to hum “It’s Now or Never” and Sam

  bit. “okay, what?”

  She dropped the tune, looking smug. “Jack managed to expedite

  the sale. It’s in less than two weeks.”

  Sam looked incredulous. “Now I know you’re crazy.”

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  42

  D

  We were all quiet on the way to the airport—in fact, we looked

  like three teenagers: Maggie updating her iPhone calendar, Clovis

  checking his email, and me—well, I admit to checking out yesterday’s

  box scores. I knew they were waiting to hear what liz had said.

  “Maggie, you were great with Sam.” I said. “Clovis, I promise I’m

  not crazy, at least I don’t think I am. Here’s the story.”

  Fudging about my source, I told them about the allegations against

  Dub and what liz had said about Doug’s research and his spice.

  Maggie eyebrows shot up, “You mean Doug’s discovered a cure for

  cancer?”

  “I can’t go that far. He must have found something important

  enough to get the government’s attention. I think marijuana may do

  more than alleviate the pain of cancer and the side effects of other

  treatments. According to liz, he experimented with hybrid strains,

  using other plants that have certain cancer-fighting characteristics,

  such as kale and flax, and breaking down their molecular makeup.

  He may have found something in all his cross-breeding that actually

  attacked the cancer. That’s exactly why Dub has put him out of reach—

  he wants to destroy every ounce of Doug’s credibility, leave him with

  no way to defend himself before he’s charged. The accusations against

  Doug as a major dealer and a seller to children would turn off anyone

  who might be inclined to listen to an award-winning chemist.

  “It’s not unusual for someone with a valid story or information to

  be attacked on a personal basis to make sure that whatever he says

  down the road has little credibility. It’s a hybrid form of killing the

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  messenger when you don’t like the message. Political operatives like

  Dub are especially adept at this tactic. A woman roughed up by a rock

  star, professional athlete, or rising political star is likely to have her

  character dragged through the mud to prevent anyone from believing

  what actually happened. A whistle blower is likely to be labeled a

  traitor and indicted, to prevent people from believing his or her alle-

  gations. It’s a morally repulsive tactic, but one that’s time-tested and

  proven to be very effective.”

  “But who would want to stop someone from finding the cure for

  cancer?” Maggie asked.

  “lots of people. Think about the drug companies that manufac-

  ture current drugs and treatments. Think about the thugs who profit

  from illegal marijuana sales. If you really want to be conspiratorial,

  law enforcement has gotten a whole lot richer by pursuing the war on

  drugs—a war on marijuana. Forfeiture alone fattens government cof-

  fers by over two billion dollars a year. That’s more than loose change.”

  “So do you have any idea who our bad guys are?” Maggie was excited.

  “Well, no, not yet, but they must be pretty damn influential. And I

  think I know how to bring them in out of the shadows.”

  “How?” They asked in unison.

  “The auction. I’m relying on the auction to flush out the bad guys.

  But Sam shot a lot of holes in my hypothesis—and he’s right, I don’t

  have any proof, no hard evidence. A lot depends on what we can find

  out over the next week.”

  “More of a shotgun blast than a single shot, if you ask me,” Clovis

  deadpanned.

  “You’re right. So I need you two to plug as many of those holes as

  possible, while I go about getting everything in place for the auction.

  We need evidence.”

  No argument from either. I knew I could count on them, even

  if they weren’t yet convinced. If she were here, Micki would be my

  harshest critic, yet ready to charge the hill. I couldn’t wait to have

  her back.

  The flight was uneventful—always a relief. and one of Martin’s men

  met us in another black Tahoe. I wondered if the security business was

  keeping Chevrolet in business.

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  We drove directly to the foundation offices, where I knew we’d be

  both comfortable and secure.

  “Clovis, you’ve had people check for computer intrusions at Micki’s

  office, the Armitage, and here at the Foundation. What else do we

  need to do?”

  “We’ll go over your house on Monday for bugs, and I’ve already

  talked to Martin about checking Maggie’s house and everyone’s cell

  phones again, as well as any portable devices like iPads.”

  “once you’re comfortable, let’s go on the offensive. I don’t want

  you to cross any lines, but if Dub is as dirty as Novak says, we need to

  find hard evidence. Find out what you can about gambling and girls

  without tipping him off. okay?”

  “Should be fun.” Clovis winked and then his face set. “As long as

  we’re here, I’m also gonna try to get a bead on Moira.” I winced. I had

  enough on my plate without worrying about her impending return.

  “Maggie, any luck finding the letter Doug wrote about his research?”

  “I’ve come up against a stone wall with every agency I’ve con-

  tacted—the Drug Czar, FBI, DeA, Homeland Security, you name it.

  They tell me it will take months to process my request. They all hide

  behind one word—backlog. I’m convinced the Freedom of Informa-

  tion Act is used to prevent openness instead of providing it.”

  “Keep after them. And while you’re at it, see what you can find

  out about Doug’s research at NIH. Did you tell Walter I needed to

  talk to him?”

  “of course. You’re meeting him at ten on Monday morning. Do

  you need me?”

  “Yes. You forget—you’re my boss. I need you both.”

  Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was almost five-thirty. We needed

  a little break before dinner, so I suggested we meet at eight at DeCar-

  lo’s, my favorite neighborhood Italian restaurant, where I knew we

  could both talk and hear one another. locals love it because no

  matter how famous you are, you can count on both a good meal with

  your family and easy privacy. The food was genuine and the service

  was impeccable. I was sorry Walter couldn’t join us. His participation

  was integral to my plan, although he didn’t know it yet. We ordered

  drinks, and I asked the waiter to hold off for a while on the menus.

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  “So exactly how do you propose to spend the rest of your Monday

  while Clovis and I are working our fingers to the bone?”

  “I’m having lunch with Peggy Fortson at 701. Then, I thought I’d

  take in a round of golf at Burning Tree.”

  Silence.

  “Kidding—just kidding! After lunch I’ll connect with some old

  friends who may know more about Dub’s task force. look, tomorrow’s

  Sunday—let’s all take some time off. Clovis and I are going to a double-

  header Nats game, and I’m sure you and Walter have plenty to do.”

  “Do we have that kind of time?” Maggie asked.

  “I’ve been pushing pretty hard; we’ve been going non-stop for over

  a week. once we get back to work, it’s full steam ahead until the auc-

  tion is over. We all need a break. Sometimes time away clears the head.

  That said, the Bolognese here is the best in the city, let’s relax and

  enjoy it.” The waiter arrived with a bottle of excellent Chianti. “We’re

  all off duty. That’s an order.”

  “I thought I was the boss,” Maggie laughed.

  We chatted easily about movies, politics, and our families. For a while

  it felt like a normal dinner with good friends. Clovis had arranged for

  Martin’s men to be on duty tonight—that included driving us home.

  The restaurant’s long-time manager came to our table as the plates

  were being cleared, and it wasn’t long before he and Clovis discovered

  their mutual love of fine bourbons. They soon migrated to the bar

  and began sampling some very select bottles. Maggie and I were left to

  noodle over the day’s events and how we planned to proceed.

  “Jack, Sam has a point. Your reasoning is almost believable, but

  the conclusion does seem pretty far-fetched. I mean, really, marijuana

  curing cancer?”

  “I know it’s hard to imagine, but think how many people have been

  helped by marijuana—people dealing with chemo, crippling diseases,

  or suffering from migraines. So far, no one knows how it works. But

  it does work. Why couldn’t it provide more than just pain relief?

  Besides, liz says it isn’t just the marijuana. Apparently, Doug has

  been developing strains of marijuana that can be supplemented with

  the natural ingredients of other plants. That takes time and careful

  documentation. Doug Stewart isn’t some doctor making a little extra

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  money peddling marijuana on the side. He’s a world-famous bio-

  chemist, winner of any number of awards and, until Dub busted him,

  a man of impeccable reputation. His research might just be the key to

  unlocking a cure.”

  “Well, okay, but now his reputation is gone. And, before this week,

  you haven’t spoken to him in years. You only have liz’s word and a

  few minutes with Doug. How are you going to find out what this is all

  about unless you can talk to him? You know liz is an airhead.”

  “Well, in the first place, liz isn’t quite the airhead she chooses to

  portray. And I’m hoping you’ll get lucky at NIH or with your FoIA

  requests. I have a back-up plan if we can’t talk to Doug, but it’s impor-

  tant to be able to prove the government knew what he was up to three

  years ago and exactly who knew.”

  “You just lost me,” she responded, but as I was about to explain,

  Walter appeared in the doorway. Walter Matthews is almost as tall as I

  am. His well-cut suit and easy slouch turned every head as he walked

  in. He looked like he owned the place. He had founded Bridgeport

  life Insurance Company straight out of college and through a cre-

  ative investment strategy, built it into one of the most admired compa-

  nies in the United States.

  Walter isn’t just successful; he is the most ethical businessman I’ve

  ever met. My old law firm used to represent his company, and we

  became good friends on the golf course. He met Maggie during the

  months before Angie’s death and fell for her head over heels.

  “Hello, dear. Hello, Jack,” he greeted us. “I managed to close out

  my part of the meeting early so I could join you.”

  He kissed Maggie, shook my hand, and ordered a glass of port.

  “I hear you’ve almost gotten yourself killed again. A word of

  advice—find another vacation spot.”

  “or at least stay away from murderous Arkansas women,” Maggie

  added.

  “Wait a minute—Moira isn’t even from the South, much less

  Arkansas,” I protested.

  Walter asked, “Want to tell me what you want to talk about Monday,

  so I can be giving it some thought?”

  I did, but this was not the time or place.

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  “Take this beautiful woman home and let her tell you what we’ve

  learned. We should all be fresh after a day of rest. I’m going to ask

  you for a little blind faith, and I need you both to be in a good mood.

  Maggie’s been a bear without you. Besides, I’ve got to pull Clovis away

  from the bourbon.”

  “I have not been a bear, you’ve been foolish. That woman was so

  obvious you should’ve seen it coming. I’d bet she had you wrapped

  around her finger the first night you met, just like that hotel man-

  ager,” Maggie scolded.

  “okay, okay—but would you have me any other way?” We all laughed,

  and they walked out hand in hand. I went to the bar and tugged on

  Clovis’s arm.

  “Come on, big fellow, it’s time for us to get home. We both need

  some sleep. We’ve got a big day of baseball ahead of us.”

  A solitary man leaned against the telephone pole outside DeCar-

  lo’s, smoking a cigarette, watching and thinking. He knew Patterson

  had met with Novak and then flown to Memphis to meet with liz

  Stewart. Novak would know nothing of their client’s plans. And he

  had probably wanted to talk to the Stewart woman in person about

  the prosecution’s offer not to prosecute her. Patterson had taken the

  bait just like they had hoped. The fact that the auction was going to

  happen in two weeks pleased the client to no end. But he wondered

  what brought Patterson back to DC. Whatever it was, it was his job to