make sure Patterson hit nothing but brick walls, no matter what he

  was after.

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  MoNdAy

  April 28, 2014

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  43

  D

  It felt good to sleep in my own bed for a change. Four years had

  passed since Angie and I had shared it. It was a queen-sized bed—we’d

  talked about getting a king, but couldn’t quite bring ourselves to sleep

  that far apart. I smelled bacon frying and knew Clovis was up.

  My house hadn’t smelled this good in a long time. Not only was he

  frying bacon, but he’d made biscuits as well. Unknown talents.

  “You’re not even the slightest bit hungover?” I asked. Clovis had

  enjoyed a double-header’s worth of beer yesterday and plenty of

  bourbon the night before.

  “Slept like a lamb and feel great.”

  I made a mental note to ask him his secret someday. This morning

  he was already full of news.

  “Micki gets out of the hospital tomorrow. eric wants to keep her

  under glass, but she’s going home. Debbie’s at the ranch setting up a

  temporary office, and I’ve put Paul in charge of security until I get back.”

  “Clovis, what about Sam? our friendship is pretty well known. Can

  we protect him, um, well, quietly?”

  He gave me a cat’s grin. “He can be as prickly as Micki, but I’ve had

  a little talk with Sheriff Barnes. His guys will watch him pretty close—

  he’ll never know.”

  “Good thinking. But we can’t maintain this level of security for

  long. And the cat’s gonna get out of the bag sooner or later. That’s

  one reason why we need to hold the auction so soon. Right now they

  think they’re in control.”

  “Aren’t they?” Clovis asked.

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  “Well, yeah, pretty much, but I’ve got a few wrenches to throw in

  the works.” I poured a fresh cup of coffee from the pot and sat down

  with my thoughts.

  Dub and his task force had thought out their strategy well, but they

  hadn’t counted on me showing up to represent Doug. My security

  clearances had come as a surprise, but they’d adjusted quickly and

  successfully. Nothing seemed to faze them. That had to change.

  “Clovis, when we get back I’d like to talk to Debbie and Paul. I’ve

  got an idea, but I need to make sure it’s safe.”

  Clovis had worked with me long enough to figure out I’d explain

  my reasoning soon enough. “Any more shower thoughts?”

  “Now that you mention it, is there any way we can get Moira’s per-

  sonal cell phone records? She wouldn’t have used your company’s cell

  phone to call her contact when we went to oklahoma City. I’d like to

  know who she called and for how long.”

  “We must have taken the same shower. My people are already on it.”

  I finished breakfast and put on my lawyer’s uniform, a dark suit and

  the requisite conservative tie. As I brushed off the jacket, it occurred

  to me that the dust meant I really didn’t wear it that often any more—a

  very good feeling. Walter wouldn’t care if I appeared in a golf shirt

  and blazer, which was about as formal as I got unless I had to appear

  in court. But I had arranged to have lunch with Peggy at 701, and I

  wanted our meeting to look official. A lawyer in uniform lunching

  with a high-ranking Justice official wouldn’t turn a single head.

  Clovis dropped me off at the foundation offices.

  Maggie had chosen one of the fairly new buildings near the White

  House for our offices, modest in size and tailored to our individual

  needs. The focus of the space was a very comfortable conference

  room with a view of the White House. location—it always counts.

  Walter’s primary business address was on e Street, but he kept a

  private office at the foundation. I could see him and Maggie in the

  conference room as I approached the door: private words and pri-

  vate smiles. How I missed that magic. The moment passed as I walked

  through the door. Maggie was already sipping on a hot cup of tea, and

  I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee from the pot on the sideboard.

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  “Jack, I hardly recognize you in a coat and tie! Totally unnecessary

  on my account.” Walter looked very comfortable in a golf shirt, slacks,

  and docksiders.

  “No offense, Walter, but it’s not for you.”

  Walter laughed. “Maggie’s told me about Doug Stewart, a thug

  called Novak, and a jerk by the name of Dub. of course, I know what

  happened to you and Micki. Besides worrying, what can I do to help?”

  “Well, maybe nothing, maybe everything. Has Maggie explained to

  you about the auction of Dr. Stewart’s cars and research?”

  “She has. I have to say: the concept of being able to take someone’s

  belongings and sell them before being charged with a crime sounds

  downright un-American to me.”

  “Me, too. The reason I’m coming to you is that you are the well-

  known and well-respected owner of Bridgeport life. In order for me

  to bid at this auction, I have to post a letter of credit amounting to

  ten percent of the amount I bid. So, for example, if I wanted to buy

  Doug’s Austin-Healy 3000 for thirty thousand dollars, I’d have to post

  at least a three-thousand-dollar letter of credit to show I have the

  financial means to come up with the thirty thousand within a requi-

  site period of time.”

  “okay, but any bank would do that for you. Why are you coming

  to me?”

  “Well, I want to smoke out the person who’s behind all this, and to

  do that I may have to post a somewhat larger letter of credit.”

  “How much do you want to spend on the car?”

  “I don’t care a flip about the car. I want to buy Doug’s research,

  his notes, his calculations, his papers, and his computer. If I’m right,

  that’s what all this is about. Someone wants to take possession of all

  Doug’s research through legal means. They want to have legal title to

  it, so they can patent it or destroy it.”

  “What if you’re wrong? What if it’s worthless?”

  “Then I won’t have to bid very much, and I’ll be able to pay you

  back.”

  “What if you’re right? What if it is a breakthrough toward a cure for

  cancer? What would that be worth?”

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  “You tell me. I don’t think either of us could place a monetary value

  on something like that. What bothers me is that it might be worth

  more destroyed. I could be wrong, but I don’t believe Doug hoped

  to gain fame and fortune through his research. I have a hunch he

  wanted to protect it through the patent system and then give it away—

  maybe even through open sourcing online.”

  “Sounds good, but Jack, where’s your evidence? Maggie says what

  you’ve got is thinner than a Girl Scout's Thin Mint. Have you got any-

  thing stronger than a hunch?” Walter could be very direct.

  “Maggie’s right. It is thinner than thin, but I’ve got a few days to

  flesh it out. It still might come down to you trusting me. I won’t be

  foolish with your money. If I don’t think I’ve got the goods, I won’t

  bid. But I have to make them think I’m for real.”

  “How much?” He at least asked.

  “My opponents will surely bid enough for the research to make it

  look like a legitimate transaction. They won’t want someone down

  the line to claim the auction was a fraud, that the government was

  gypped. If I were running the scam, I’d use two or three shills to run

  up the price. Remember, the government is the beneficiary of the

  funds. Dub will be able to gloat over how much money he’s brought

  into the government coffers, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Again—how much do you need?”

  “They’ll take the price up a little at a time, but they’ll already have

  decided when to stop. My best bet is they’ll shut it down somewhere

  around five million.” I almost choked on the figure. Could I really ask

  Walter to risk so much money?

  Walter whistled. “So, what you want me to do is provide you with

  a half a million dollar line of credit and be prepared to back it up by

  paying five million dollars for research that may be worthless.”

  “I don’t think it’s worthless, but, well, yeah, I guess I’m asking

  exactly that.”

  Walter looked at Maggie, who was studying her teacup. “What if

  they go higher, outbid you?”

  “Then we’ll know that Doug Stewart’s research is the real goods.

  Five million isn’t chicken feed. The government’s had Doug’s research

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  for over a week now, and more than likely so has whoever went after

  Micki and me. It’s surely been gone over with a fine-toothed comb by

  any number of scientists. If someone bids more than five million dol-

  lars for it, it’s probably worth hundreds of millions.”

  Maggie asked, “What’s to keep the government from destroying his

  research or handing it off to whoever is behind all this?”

  “Good question. Knowing Doug, he has probably already applied

  which will establish prior ownership. His letter to the government,

  if we can find it, can help establish the same thing. If I’m right, they

  want to destroy Doug’s credibility and at the same time obtain clear

  title to his research by means of the auction. Then whoever is behind

  this can control whether it’s destroyed, or use it down the road, saying

  they bought the research fair and square. Walter, I hope to have a few

  aces up my sleeve, but it may come down to the auction itself. We need

  them to be at least a little nervous. I’d like to flush out my opponent,

  even if he gets the research in the end.”

  Walter’s bland countenance had kept him at the table many a time.

  I had no idea how to read it. I always knew what he would do on a golf

  course, but in a business transaction he was hard to read.

  I’d made my pitch. Now it was up to Walter. He was playing with

  numbers on a legal pad, deep in thought. Maggie still hadn’t said a

  word. She was in a difficult position—it was her money, too. Finally

  Walter capped his pen.

  “Jack, I think the chances are slim that you’re going to be able to

  prove a single element of your conspiracy. More than likely you’re

  going to be able to buy Dr. Stewart’s research for a hundred dollars,

  and we’re all going to have a big laugh. But, on the off chance that Dr.

  Stewart really has something, I don’t want to be the fool who let it get

  stolen out from under his nose. I’m not afraid to lose a little money.

  But I think you’re wrong about the ‘how much.’ If you’re right, they’re

  not going to let it go for five million. So I’ll furnish our foundation a

  letter of credit that will satisfy the authorities. It will allow you to bid a

  little more than five million, and, if you should be successful, Maggie

  and I will figure out how to come up with the rest. It wouldn’t be the

  worst thing if our little foundation owned the cure for cancer.”

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  I rose immediately. A hug seemed out of order, so I stuck out my

  hand. “Thank you, Walter. You’ve put a lot of faith in me; I’ll try not

  to let you down.”

  “Do more than try.” He laughed, and the awkward moment passed.

  “I have some work to do with my bankers, but you’ll have the letter of

  credit in plenty of time. I’d like to attend the auction if I may.”

  “of course. At the least it should be entertaining.”

  “Jack, if the research proves to be worthless, that means someone

  else is trying to kill you. Have you thought about that?”

  “Not until just now, thanks.” The prospect was sobering.

  “Well, if you two can do without me, I have to go meet with our

  bankers.”

  “That’s what you always say when you’re going to play golf,” Maggie

  interjected.

  “I didn’t say where I was meeting them.”

  He was out the door before either of us could protest.

  We sat back down. “Thank you, Maggie. What did you say to him?”

  “I told him everything. He figured you needed to talk money. We

  trust you, as Doug and liz are going to have to. He’s not worried

  about the money. He’s worried about losing his best friend. We both

  think it’s your love of Angie that’s driving you this time, that maybe

  you can’t see or believe that someone she cared about could be a

  criminal. But I’m always amazed how you see things none of the rest

  of us can, so we trust you. That’s the bottom line.”

  “Five million dollars is a lot of trust.” I said, moved by her faith.

  “Yes, it is. But I know you well enough to know you aren’t going to

  lose five million dollars, any more than you’re going to quit falling for

  pretty women—anywhere.”

  “ouch, that hurt.”

  “I meant it to. You need to be careful.” She raised her cup, giving

  my arm a light touch.

  We sat quietly for a bit, each thinking our own thoughts, until she

  broke the spell. “okay, so what’s next?”

  “I’m taking Peggy to lunch, and you’re going to find that letter.”

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  D

  When I worked at Main Justice, 701 was my favorite spot for a meal.

  The atmosphere was classy, the waiters were discreet, and best of all,

  and it was right across the street. As a regular, they always found me a

  table for lunch, dinner, or simply meeting Angie for drinks before we

  headed home. The savvy owner ran several other DC mainstays, but I

  felt most comfortable at 701.

  Peggy walked in as I was waiting for our table—she looked terrific.

  Her dark, curly hair fell casually to her shoulders, and she greeted

  me with an easy smile. I was a little taken aback by her unexpected

  glamour—Angie would have recognized the designer of her upscale

  suit. Disarmed by her physical allure and winning smile, many a man

  in the male-dominated Justice Department has underestimated her

  brains, but not for long. Her looks may have opened a few doors, but

  it was her intelligence and good judgment that kept her in the room.

  Now a career deputy in the Criminal Division, she and I began our

  careers at the same time. I moved to the Antitrust Division, but our

  paths crossed often, and we quickly became lifelong friends.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually breaking bread with my elusive friend

  Jack Patterson. I hope you don’t think this counts as that dinner you

  owe me,” she opened as we sat down.

  “No way. That’s one promise I look forward to keeping,” I said

  truthfully.

  Peggy was married when we first met, but the marriage hadn’t

  worked because her husband expected her to follow his career path,

  rather than her own. After Angie’s death we met for drinks on occasion,

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  but it never went beyond that. She’d made it clear she was open to

  more, but at the time I needed her friendship more than romance. As

  I sat across from her and watched her smile at the waiter, I wondered if

  it was too late to change my mind.

  “Wine at lunch?” I kidded, as she ordered a New Zealand Sauvi-

  gnon Blanc.

  “I’m not holding my breath for that dinner. Besides, I’ve got a

  feeling I may need something stronger than iced tea. So before you

  drag me into your latest pickle, I want to enjoy this lunch. I’ve signed

  out for the afternoon, and I intend to spend your money on a won-

  derful meal and enjoy this time. I’m going to take what I can get.”

  Her eyes betrayed loneliness, and I kicked myself for cancelling more

  dinners than I care to admit.

  We ordered a three-course meal and shared a really nice bottle of

  wine and easy conversation, both doing our best to avoid business.