by Gordon Ryan
There it was-on the table. That was the impetus of this visit. Dan had heard that Roger Dahlgren and some of his Shasta Brigade boys had been talking up support for Senator Turner’s stand, visiting many of the local businessmen. Some even went so far as to call it intimidation. But it was hard to oppose or interfere with a group of citizens who were only voicing support for the state’s U.S. senator. No bones about it, this was a not-so-subtle first approach from a segment of the board of supervisors telling Daniel Rawlings, Yolo County Administrator, where he was expected to stand on the issue of California’s secession from the Union.
“Charlie, are you telling me my job’s on the line if I don’t support that bluster being put out by Roger and the militia?”
Charlie and Harold looked at each other and began to back slowly toward the door.
“I don’t know. I mean, I can’t speak for the whole board, but we, us three, I mean, feel you need to seriously consider your viewpoint. It’s not just bluster, Dan. Our United States senator has put his full weight and support behind it. You need to consider that. Besides, as Roger said, you’re a California guard officer. You owe your allegiance to the State of California. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yeah, I think I’m beginning to. Anything else I can help with today?” Dan said, inching the group toward the door.
“No, no. Thanks for your time. See you at the board meeting Thursday night.”
“Right. See you then. Thank you. Bye, Marjorie, Harold,” he said, shaking each hand as they departed.
“Bye, Dan,” Marjorie said meekly, obviously embarrassed by the visit.
Dan closed the door and turned once again toward the window. With Thanksgiving and then Christmas approaching, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant holiday, he felt. Not by a long shot. And if history served, the spring and then summer would be even longer and hotter. At least for the inner cities, it would potentially be a cauldron of violence.
Dan picked up the phone on the third ring when he remembered that Pat had stepped out to the post office.
“Good morning, Yolo County Administration, Dan Rawlings speaking.”
“Hi, Dan. This is Jean Waters. Bet you thought I’d forgotten about you.”
Dan immediately recognized the name of his literary agent, even though they had only spoken once since she had agreed to represent his manuscript. “Good morning, Jean. No, I’ve had you on my mind, but we’re pretty engaged out here at the moment.”
“How’re things in the Republic of California?”
Dan laughed. “This could well be an international call in a few months.”
“That serious? Well, that’s actually what I’m calling about. I waited until I found the right market for this unique story, and in October I offered Voices in My Blood to three of the larger publishers. They’ve been having a read for the past couple of weeks. Dan, if it will improve your day, I’m happy to advise that we’ve had offers from all three, and they’re hot. Since you added those closing chapters about the California secession, they want to move fast to be ready to respond in time for the elections. As it is, they’ll be several months behind the issues at best. They’ll have to jump their list and put Voices in My Blood in front.”
“Jean, I’m. . well, I’m. .” Dan hesitated, silent for a few seconds. “Actually, I don’t know what I am. I’m floored, that’s what I am.”
“Well, Mr. Daniel Rawlings, you’re about to become Waters amp; Hobson’s newest author. I told you that this book was compelling. Simon amp; Schuster has the best offer. Actually, they’re all pretty close on money, but S amp;S offers several advantages. First, they want to hit the streets as soon as possible, and second, they’re prepared to offer you a two, or, if you can develop a sequential story line, a three-book deal. Dan, they’ve offered four hundred twenty-five thousand just for Voices in My Blood. I believe we can get an advance in the neighborhood of one point two million for the three books, with staggered payments, of course, based on the strength of the subsequent outlines.” Dan was silent as Jean waited for his response. “You still there?”
“I don’t think so, Jean. I’ve just gone numb.”
“Ha,” she voiced, “this is the kind of news I love to deliver. Tell you what, I’ll fax the details and you consider them for a day. Don’t tarry, Dan-I need to get back to them tomorrow, so call me first thing in the morning.”
“All right. I’ll stand by the fax if you can transmit now. I want to keep this confidential for awhile.”
“I understand. I’ll send it right now. And, Dan, my sincerest congratulations. I think you’ve just entered a new phase of your life. I’m pleased to represent you. Just to add to your confusion, the moment we sign with S amp;S-if that’s what you decide-I’m going to send the manuscript to an associate in LA. Movie rights are the next consideration. This could become a whirlwind and if so, it will all happen very quickly, so stay sharp. I’ll get the fax out right now. Have a good day, Dan.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Jean?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you, sincerely. I really appreciate all your efforts. This wouldn’t have happened without you.”
It was Jean’s turn to pause. “Thanks. That was considerate. At this stage, some authors wonder why the agent gets such a large cut. Thanks for understanding our worth.”
“No question about your worth. We’re a team in this, aren’t we?”
“Absolutely. Talk to you tomorrow, Dan. Bye.”
“Bye,” Dan said, as he replaced the receiver.
He leaned back in his chair and swung around to look out the window at the small park surrounding the building where people were beginning to appear as the lunch hour approached. What a day! A threat to his job by some of the supervisors, and then this. Dan found himself thinking of Rumsey Valley and the Almond Festival, a resplendent time of year with the almond trees in bloom throughout the length of the valley. California was his home and he was a Californian. How was he going to take a stand against all those people he’d grown up with, gone to school with, fished with, and cared about? With pressing and disruptive issues to deal with and the board of supervisors’ apparent split over the upcoming vote, this was actually a bad time for outside distractions.
He rose and stepped closer to the window, watching as Pat walked across the grounds, returning from the post office. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. How could any time be a bad time to sign a million-dollar contract? He was interrupted by the ring of the fax. Pat entered the office just as Dan retrieved several pages from the machine and started back for his office, still chuckling softly.
“Anything I can help with, Dan?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it. Just some personal stuff. Think I’ll head for lunch and see you about one-thirty.”
“Good. Oh, Dan, I’ve got a dental appointment at four.”
“Fine. We’ll cover; no problem.”
“Thanks. You okay?” she asked, noticing his faraway demeanor.
Dan stopped before entering his office, glanced back at Pat, and smiled. “I’ve never been better,” he said, reaching behind the door for his coat. Then, stepping quickly to her desk, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She sat there, astonished at his unusual behavior, as he whistled his way out the door.
After lunch, Dan closed the door to his office and picked up the telephone, dialing the information operator for the 415 area code.
“Operator. What city, please?”
“San Francisco. A business listing for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Thank you, sir. One moment.” Dan waited several seconds until the computer voice provided the number, which he dialed and waited once more.
“Good afternoon. Federal Bureau of Investigation. How may I direct your call?”
“Special Agent Bentley, please,” Dan said.
“One moment, sir.”
Again Dan waited while his call was transferred, wondering how to initiate the conversation and feeling foolish, remembering his note
which had gone unacknowledged. He momentarily considered hanging up, but then Nicole’s voice sounded, calm and professional.
“This is Special Agent Bentley; how may I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Agent Bentley. This is Daniel Rawlings in Woodland.”
Not missing a beat, Nicole responded. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rawlings. How goes our local government?”
“Well,” he laughed. “Some supervisors would say I’m still wet behind the ears, and I’d better wake up and smell the coffee.”
“You’re not alone, Mr. Rawlings. I just might have some of that attitude around here as well. By the way, I meant to respond to your kind note last month, but one thing or another. .”
“I understand, Ms. Bentley. I’m sure it was a very trying time for you. How are you doing?” Immediately, Dan felt like a fool, and he grimaced into the phone, hoping she wouldn’t be offended by the personal nature of his question.
After a slight pause, she responded. “I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”
“Great.”
There was another awkward pause.
Nicole broke the silence. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Rawlings?”
“Well, uh, yes. The reason I called is. . I was wondering if you might, uh, be free for dinner.”
“When?” she asked.
“Uh, tonight? I mean, tonight,” he said, wondering why he was having such a hard time doing such a simple thing. “I know that’s short notice, Ms. Bentley, but, well, it’s been one of those days. I’ve had an absolute low, followed by an absolute high. I was hoping you might be willing to be a little spontaneous, and that I could conclude the day with some very pleasant company for dinner.” He grimaced again, feeling completely foolish. “How about it?”
Dan felt certain that Nicole knew he was as nervous as a young schoolboy.
“I don’t know. I’d hate to give the impression I don’t have anything to do. I mean, I do have a life, you know,” she parried. “Let me think about it for a moment.”
Silence.
“Ms. Bentley?”
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. I need to ask you two questions. First of all, if I go to dinner with you, will you call me Nicole?”
“I can do that. What’s the other question?”
“Are you buying?”
“I’d planned on it,” he said, a smile beginning to cross his face.
“Then you’ve got a date.”
Dan made a fist, punched the air in front of him and mouthed a silent yes. “Great. Would you like me to meet you in the city, or is there somewhere more convenient?”
“I’ve got an appointment near my residence this afternoon. Let me give you my address in Walnut Creek. Where did you want to eat?”
“There’s only one place suitable, in my humble opinion. In Chinatown. The Empress of China.”
“I love Chinese. I’m at the River Oaks Apartments, Unit Esperanza, off Sycamore Street in Walnut Creek. We can take BART into the city and then walk to Chinatown. Seven-thirty too early?”
“Seven-thirty’s fine, Nicole. See you then, and thanks for allowing spontaneity to prevail.”
“Seven-thirty, then.” She gave him her phone numbers in case he got held up. “I’m looking forward to it, Dan. Bye.”
“Thanks, Nicole,” Dan replied, replacing the receiver, leaning back in his chair, and locking his fingers behind his head.
Dan had no trouble finding the River Oaks Apartments, which mirrored the thousands of other Spanish architecture apartment complexes scattered throughout California cities. It was nestled in a grove of Manzanita trees and surrounded by a high-security fence veiled in foliage. The rustic wooden sign out front advertised a pool, spa, training room, tennis courts, and even an on-site film viewing room with a large screen.
After his car was cleared by the security guard who checked Dan’s name against his list of expected guests, Dan read the unit names on each of the buildings and parked the car next to the one marked Esperanza. Nicole answered Dan’s buzz almost instantly, smiling warmly and offering to shake his hand. She closed the door behind her, and together they descended the one flight of stairs and walked toward his car.
Like a schoolboy getting ready for his first date, Dan had wondered what he ought to wear. He and Nicole hadn’t discussed it, and he hoped his slacks, sports coat, and buttoned-up, open necked shirt wouldn’t be too casual. He was relieved to find Nicole informally dressed as well, and pleased to see that she apparently knew the vagaries of weather they might encounter in the city, since she was carrying a jacket on her arm.
Remembering her in a navy-blue business suit from their first encounter under the bridge and her professional demeanor, Dan now saw her in a different light, relaxed, jovial and in fact, beautiful. Since their previous meeting, Nicole had cut her dark hair and was wearing it in an attractive, shorter style that flattered her face. Flat shoes, for walking, he assumed, and a long-strap purse completed her outfit, which Dan found flattering to her athletic body. While opening the car door, Dan caught a whiff of the pleasant, subtle fragrance she was wearing and wondered what it was called. He stifled a passing thought. Beautiful or not, does she carry a pistol in her purse?
It was only a six-minute drive from her apartment to the BART station, where, after a short wait, they caught the next train to San Francisco. At eight o’clock in the evening, the commuter rush was over, and the train was nearly empty with only two other couples sharing their car. Initial chitchat consisted of comments mainly about Nicole’s apartment complex and Dan’s condo in Davis. They were silent as they passed though several above-ground BART stations on the Oakland side, with passengers entering and leaving at each stop. Dan watched Nicole’s reflection in the train window until her reflection smiled at him, and he became aware that she was familiar with his surveillance technique.
“Caught me.” He laughed. “But I presume, based on your acceptance of this dinner offer, that I am neither a suspect, a material witness, a person of interest, or even an investigative source any longer.”
Nicole looked at Dan for a moment, a smile growing on her face. “Whether you are a suspect, or just suspect, has yet to be determined. I seldom make snap judgments, Mr. Rawlings.”
“Nope, you agreed. It’s Dan.”
“Okay. So, Dan Rawlings-Rumsey Valley, Woodland High School, UC Davis, and Stanford Law-with honors, no less. Very impressive.”
Dan looked at her with surprise, and Nicole smiled all the more. “I confess, I’ve done my homework. All in the performance of my professional duties.”
“Of course,” Dan allowed. “Reciprocity, if you please,” he prodded.
“Norwalk, Connecticut; a B.A. from Vassar in English literature; an M.A. in psychology from Northwestern, and then Columbia Law. Straight into the FBI afterward.”
“That’s a rather impressive bio, Nicole. But why-”
“Why the FBI?” Nicole interrupted, then snapped, “Why not?”
Taken aback, Dan retreated. “Excuse me if I was intrusive; I didn’t mean to be.”
Dan could see Nicole was embarrassed by her sharp response to his question.
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I just hear that question all the time. In one fashion or another, it’s ‘Why would an intelligent, attractive woman choose the FBI?’ and I guess I’m tired of it.”
“I can understand that.” Dan laughed. “The intelligent, attractive part, I mean.” The lights on the train flickered briefly as they entered the tunnel, and their ears popped as the train dropped down under San Francisco Bay.
Nicole continued, changing the subject. “When I was first assigned to work in San Francisco, I was told that the minutes spent under the Bay while commuting to work were the most dangerous I would encounter. I guess that’s right. If the so-called ‘Big One’ were to occur while we’re under here, there would be no hope of getting out alive. I kind of count the minutes I spend under the Bay as the sac
rifice I make for being able to live in such a beautiful place.”
Dan thought of the newspaper report he’d read of her instant response to the hostage situation, feeling that being in the line of fire from bank robbers was certainly more dangerous than riding BART under the Bay.
“Have you seen much of California?” he asked.
“Mostly the cities, and usually on business. Al and I. .” she paused and lowered her eyes. “. . Al and I used to take turns driving to assignments so the other could take more time to view the scenery. Al was from Iowa, and while he’d been with the Bureau for fifteen years, he’d only been in California about six months longer than me.” After a pause, she added, “He used to beg me to get take-out when we were out of the office so we could sit in the car by the ocean while we ate lunch. He was awed by the majesty of the ocean.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence until the train exited the tunnel on the San Francisco side of the Bay and stopped at the Embarcadero Station. At the Beale Street Station they got off and made their way up to Market Street, beginning the fifteen-minute walk to Chinatown.
At The Empress of China, on the sixth floor of the building, the maitre ’d found Dan’s reservations and seated the couple at the table Dan had requested, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Full dark having descended over the city, the lights on the bridge glowed brightly over the dark expanse of the entrance to San Francisco Bay. It was a spectacular view, and Nicole and Dan gazed at it without speaking while a cadre of waiters scurried about, working to change the settings on the table.