Ginger snaps, p.33
Ginger Snaps, page 33
An innocent slip on her part might give away our strategy. I finally
decided against it, afraid her appearance might spook Dub.
Maggie and Stella were hard at work trying to discover the iden-
tity of the computer prowler. Maggie had come full circle with Stella.
When Stella was unsure who or what was important, either Maggie or
Micki could walk her through it without consulting me.
The three women worked well together. I put Debbie in another
category, not that she wasn’t constantly busy. She enjoyed cooking
for us, was happy to do almost anything we asked, and kept us all in
stitches, her bubbly personality infectious.
“Do you think Debbie and Paul are enjoying each other’s com-
pany?” I asked Clovis as we watched them saddling horses for a ride.
“Can’t blame him, can you?” he said with a grin.
“No. Can’t say that I do.”
once again, my defense team had become quite the family. We
all felt the tension, the awareness of danger, but, well, I guess we just
shoved it away somewhere. Micki enjoyed walking the grounds with
Stella and Maggie. She was becoming visibly stronger and feistier,
enjoying her independence from eric.
I felt a twinge of regret when I heard her comment, “eric feels
better about going to the hospital with us all here together. We were
getting on each other’s nerves—now things are smoothing out.”
I tried to keep my mind on the task at hand, but I freely admit
that I enjoyed watching Stella’s workouts. I sure wouldn’t want to
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arm-wrestle her. Imagine watching a woman almost my age lifting
heavy weights, and then running at top speed around a two hun-
dred acre pasture. After a cool down, she was back at work at her
computer in boots and tight jeans, laughing with Maggie over some
private joke.
When Debbie finally got up the courage to speak to Micki about
Novak, she got a surprise. Micki had realized long ago there had to be
more to their relationship than drugs. I think it helped that Debbie’s
continuing contact with Novak had saved both our lives. Micki heard
her out, but gave her a clear warning: not only was Novak still the
prime suspect in our kidnappings, he was also the source of the brand
on Debbie’s neck. even if he were completely exonerated, they would
need to establish boundaries. Novak was still scum in Micki’s eyes. I
knew that victims of abuse sometimes become unnaturally dependent
on their abusers, but neither Micki nor I could quite figure out the
seductive pull Novak maintained over Debbie.
I had time on my hands while my team worked, but they cut me
some slack—they all knew my part in this drama would become center
stage soon enough.
I decided to pay a visit to Woody’s mother, Helen. She plied me
with gossip, cookies, and questions and, as always, understood when I
couldn’t answer. It felt like coming home again.
Clovis had remained in the Tahoe, and as we drove away he said,
“We’ve got company.”
I turned and saw a black lexus sedan a few cars back. What had my
life become that I could spot a tail so easily?
“Should I be worried?”
“No, they’re keeping their distance. We think everyone who leaves
the compound is followed. I’ve let Martin know. You’d think they’d
be bored by now, but it proves they haven’t eased off one bit. Doesn’t
bode well for us having the element of surprise,” he said with a shrug.
I rolled down my window and flipped them the bird. They were too
far back to notice, but the car right behind us gave an angry honk.
“Jack . . ." Clovis frowned.
“I know, I’m sorry. That was childish, but someone or some cor-
poration is working with my own government to stop the discovery
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of a cure to a horrible disease. Think how many people might be
alive today, including Angie, if scientists had been able to research the
medical benefits of marijuana.”
Clovis didn’t react at all, just drove.
“My own government—your government—is conspiring to prevent
a lone chemist from telling the world what he’s discovered. Fuck the
guys in the car behind us, and fuck the guys they work for. What are
they so afraid of? Maybe they won’t make as much money or maybe
they won’t get re-elected. How can they look their wives and children
in the face when they ask, ‘How was your day, dear?’ And the honest
answer is, “oh, I kept the world from learning about a cure for cancer.”
I leaned back, totally spent. “Sorry, Clovis. Guess I needed to vent.”
“That’s okay. Save some for the judge.”
We lost our tail when we pulled through Micki’s gate, but I was still
apprehensive. Walter was scheduled to arrive with a letter of credit
that would enable me to bid on Doug’s research. I wondered who
knew that, other than Maggie and me.
Mr. Kim leaned back in his office chair, idly drumming its back with
a pencil. Why had Walter Mathews flown to Little Rock? Surely not just to
meet his wife. Their recent attempts to penetrate his company’s com-
puter security had been blocked. And he knew that Matthews had
recently engaged the services of a well-regarded economist. Mr. Kim
placed a single phone call—no sense getting caught off-guard.
We knew the rules of the auction, but to a certain extent I’d have
to fly by the seat of my pants. Stella still hadn’t been able to pinpoint
the bad guys. She thought she was close, but time was running out.
Cheryl hadn’t been able to get Dub on her show, much less get her
camera in the courtroom, and Sam had cold feet about showing up
on Wednesday. I hoped something positive would turn up in the next
twenty-four hours, but right now our prospects looked pretty dim.
Clovis pulled to a stop, and I had just reached to open the car door
when my cell phone rang. Novak.
I listened for a minute, clicked the phone off and put it back in my
pocket.
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Clovis looked worried. “What?”
“Moira’s back in town—came in through Miami. Apparently she’s
cut and colored her hair, but was recognized by one of Novak’s
cohorts. Clovis, will you call Sam’s office?”
Clovis nodded silently. There wasn’t much he could say.
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tuESdAy
May 6, 2014
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54
D
I gave up on sleep around six, showered, and went downstairs to
make the coffee. Stella was already well into her run. The morning
was chilly, but held the promise of a glorious early May day. I put on a
jacket and with coffee in hand walked out to the porch to watch. The
horses had gathered at the fence and seemed to be watching, too.
She waved, but never broke stride. She finally completed the circuit,
wrapped her streaming face in a towel, and gulped thirstily from a
large bottle of cool water.
“You make me tired, just watching.”
“When you played ball, I bet your workout was similar.”
“That was in high school and, you’re right: two-a-days in August were
pure hell. But we didn’t do anything compared to what you just did.”
“It’s all in your point of view,” she shrugged. “Mind if I ask you a
personal question?” she asked cautiously.
“No, ask away. But I don’t promise an answer.” I winked.
“Is this normal for you? I mean all this security, people trying to kill
you, high stakes, and big drama. Is this your normal life?’
I choked on my coffee.
“Thankfully, no, it isn’t. For twenty-five years I practiced antitrust
law, the most boring law you can imagine, except for maybe tax or
patent law. IBM is excitement personified, compared to antitrust
law. My practice involved poring over thousands of documents and
deposing conflicting economists and corporate executives.”
“But you seem so . . . well, unfazed by all this, even used to it.”
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“About a year ago, when one of my best friends shot Senator Russell
Robinson, I came home to see how I could help his mother. I learned
high drama the hard way. But one case certainly hasn’t made me ‘used
to it.’ This mess started the same way. Dr. Stewart was a good friend
of my wife. When he was charged with growing and distributing mari-
juana, I came down to see what I could do to help and landed in the
middle of a firestorm.”
Her mouth curved up a bit. I waited for her to say something but
she didn’t.
The silence was just beginning to linger a bit too long, when Debbie
called me into the kitchen to take a call from Cheryl. She had finally
managed to hook Dub for her show.
“Jack, we met in the bar, and after a few drinks, he’d have agreed to
anything. He kept trying to slide his hand up my skirt. Gross. I mean,
my producer was sitting right there.”
“Cheryl, don’t get caught alone with him. Promise me.”
“I’ll be careful, especially after last night. Now that I have the sleaze
ball coming on the air, what do you want me to ask him?”
“I’ll email you some questions. Better yet, I’ll have them delivered to
your hotel. Here’s the main thing: try to get invited to tomorrow’s auc-
tion. I can get you in if he doesn’t bite, but it’s better if he invites you.”
“He already has. He’s arranged the whole thing with my producer.
I sure hope whatever you’ve got is worth all this shit.”
“I hope so, too, Cheryl, I really do. listen, you’ll see a pretty young
woman sitting on the first row tonight. Dub tends to get nervous when
he sees her. Don’t ask him anything on air, but off the record feel free
to ask all you want.”
“Is she someone I know?”
“Nope—but Dub does.”
“Promise me the story.”
“If things go as planned, you’ll know everything I know tomorrow.”
She agreed to stay in touch, and I repeated my warning. “Cheryl,
don’t be foolish. I know you. Dub’s dangerous. Be careful.”
“I’m surprised you care, Jack. Maybe you and I can have drinks
tonight after the show.”
“I do care, Cheryl, but no drinks tonight. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
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“I’ll give you a rain check.”
The others were waiting quietly in the living room.
“Debbie, Paul, you’re on for Cheryl’s tonight. Maggie, please give
Debbie some extra pointers on conservative dress—no short skirts
or unbuttoned blouses. Tonight, you exude class.” Debbie looked
irritated.
“I don’t think I own anything that boring,” she pouted.
Micki smiled easily. “Sure you do. You have a court suit, and I’ve got
some pearls. We’ll have fun dressing you.”
“Debbie, I need you to be on your best behavior tonight, looking
every bit the attractive, well-mannered and self-possessed young lady
you can be. People will wonder who you are; I don’t want any sneers
or snide remarks. You are not to play the hooker. Remember what I’ve
told you.” I knew I had overstepped, but I also knew how important
this might be.
Rounding her arm around Debbie and shooting me a dirty look,
Maggie walked her toward the bedroom saying, “Debbie, Jack is only
trying to protect you.”
“Paul. Be especially careful tonight. No telling what Dub is apt to
do. And we can’t forget Moira.” Jeez, I wished we could forget Moira!
Paul gave me a thumbs-up. Suddenly it came to me how we might
protect Debbie and upset Dub even more in the bargain. I picked up
my phone and punched in a familiar number.
“I need a favor.”
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55
D
After dinner, we settled in to watch the show, aptly named Cheryl!
Live! Cheryl had texted Paul that she’d reserved seats for them in the
front row. I wondered whether she would use the questions I’d given
her. Dub was her last guest, so first we were treated to some “fair and
balanced” propaganda from Cheryl’s panel of experts on the subject
of gun control.
After the commercial, the camera zoomed in on Cheryl and Dub.
He licked his lips nervously. She had exposed more cleavage than
usual for this episode. They sat side by side on a small couch. God
bless her, she had no shame.
“ladies and Gentlemen, our next guest tonight is United States
Attorney Wilbur “Dub” Blanchard. Mr. Blanchard will tell us about his
role in the Cole investigation as well as the other important investiga-
tions his office is handling. Welcome, Mr. U. S. Attorney—may I call
you Dub?”
“Absolutely, all my friends do.”
“Well, I’m certainly an admirer.” Cheryl reached over and stroked
the top of his hand. The poor sod didn’t have a chance.
“Tell me, Dub, a lot of people thought the murder of Senator Rob-
inson should have been your case. I understand you did try to inter-
vene. What happened?”
“Well, let me just say it was a travesty of justice. Cole’s lawyer was an
old friend of the prosecutor. Then there was the judge . . ."
Cheryl interrupted. “Well, maybe we can ask the prosecutor about
that? I understand he’s in our audience.” The camera cut immediately
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to the audience to focus in on Sam Pagano who happened to be sit-
ting next to Debbie, looking very chic in pearls, hair pulled back
demurely at the nape of her neck. The camera lingered on the two
briefly before flashing back to Cheryl and Dub. Cheryl was all smiles,
but Dub’s face portrayed a mixture of anger and panic.
“Wha. . . What are they doing here?” Dub let slip. He pulled out a
handkerchief, passing it nervously over his brow.
Cheryl didn’t miss a beat. “Prosecutor Pagano is a friend of mine
from college. I’d hoped he might join us on air, but he declined, noting
that the assassination investigation is still pending. Am I right, Sam?”
Sam nodded, smiling serenely.
“I don’t know the young woman sitting next to him. Do you? Should
we ask her to come forward?”
Dub almost shouted. “No . . . I mean I have no idea who she is. I’m
sorry. I just . . . just wasn’t expecting Mr. Pagano to be here. I thought
we were going to talk about my ongoing drug investigation.”
Cheryl said smoothly. “of course . . . of course. Tell me about this
exciting new case you’re working on.”
Dub couldn’t have been more relieved and swung into his full spiel
about how terrible drugs were and how after a long investigation, he’d
arrested a major dealer, a college professor. He appeared to get more
comfortable as Cheryl continued to play with his hand, occasionally
placing her hand on his arm.
“I understand there’s a hearing tomorrow.”
“Well, not exactly a hearing. Part of our goal in going after these
drug terrorists is to take away their financial network, so they can’t
continue to endanger our children. Tomorrow we intend to auction
off everything that was funded by Dr. Stewart’s sale of drugs to little
Rock’s kids. It’s not a real hearing.”
“Well, maybe so—but isn’t it strange that the same Jack Patterson
who represented Woody Cole now represents Dr. Stewart? I hear you
forced him to spend a night in jail.”
Now Dub was able to smile easily, turning his eyes on the audience.
“We don’t think in terms of pay-back, but . . ."
“oh, come on now. It’s got to feel good to know you bested Jack
Patterson—made him wear prison stripes. I tried to get him to come
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