The Land of the Free

by TJ Tucker

  “Nothing he ever told me about.”

  “That may be why you’re still alive,” said John. “They’ve been eliminating people over this. They might be able to use your phone as a tracking device, because of the integrated GPS unit. They might even know we’re here, so we can’t stay long. But we need to find this memo. How about a lawyer? Could he have left things with a family attorney?”

  “Lionel Ferguson was the family attorney in the past. He did a few real estate deals, and of course the divorce. But he’s largely retired now. His son Lyle Jr. is running the office. He’s handling the estate settlement for me. You don’t think they’ll come after him, do you?”

  Frank interrupted. “I’d say it’s a good bet they’ll check him out, but I don’t know how much danger he’s in.”

  “Ferguson is in Kingston?” asked John.

  “Yes,” replied Jess.

  “Good. In the morning we go to Kingston.”

  Chapter 34: Lyle Ferguson

  Jess called Ferguson’s law office to verify that Lyle was in, then packed a bag and waited for John and Frank. After checking out of their motel and picking up Jess, they got on the turnpike south to Kingston, less than an hour’s drive. Jess led them into Ferguson’s office. Lyle was in the reception area, and looked over when they came in. He stopped what he was doing to welcome them. He led them into his office which had obviously been ransacked. Sofa cushions had been cut open and piles of books were on the floor. Lyle had been trying to make some sense out of the mess, attempting to sort through the books before they could go back on their shelves.

  “Come in, come in,” he said. “I have to apologize for the state of my office, but I’m sure you can tell that someone broke in. This happened earlier this week and it’s going to take us a while to recover fully.”

  “Who did this Lyle?” asked Jess, quietly admiring the tall, handsome man she was addressing.

  “I don’t know who, but I have an idea why,” replied Lyle.

  “And I have an idea who. I’m John Corson, and I was a friend of Robbie Linssman. I met your father once.”

  “I’m Frank Goworski, and I too was a friend of Robbie.”

  “Well, I think I owe you all some explanation,” said Lyle. “But not here in this mess. Let’s go out and get some lunch.”

  As they walked down the street towards the water, John told Lyle the details of Robbie’s death and his and Frank’s run-ins with the killers in Chicago.

  Jess had been waiting patiently for John to finish, then asked, “Lyle, did my dad have any recent dealings with you?”

  “Officially, no,” he replied. “But the break-in was definitely related to your dad. The only materials missing were his official files and our computer backup tapes. But there was no information in either the files or on the tapes that was newer than the divorce case.”

  “So unofficially, what was the deal between you and Robbie?” asked Frank, as they came to the Catskill House and sat at a table off in the corner.

  There was a self-conscious silence until the waitress finished taking their orders and left them again. “Lyle, give me your phone,” said John. Lyle handed over his cell phone and John turned the power off and handed Lyle his last new SIM card. “I’m just going to assume that anybody on their radar has had their phone hacked. Use this SIM card if you need to call any of us. Let’s exchange numbers.”

  They all exchanged phone numbers then John said, “Go ahead, Lyle, what was the deal with Robbie?”

  “Well, Mr. Linssman came to see me a few weeks ago, sure that his life was in danger. I checked with my dad who assured me that Mr. Linssman was levelheaded, so I took it seriously. He’d discovered some plot and I helped him contact the FBI.”

  “Your contact was compromised, Lyle” said John. “That contact cost him his life. Did Robbie give you any papers that you would not have put in his file?”

  “Yes,” was the simple answer. Lyle was visibly shaken by the thought that his help may have led Robbie to his death.

  “Well, where are they?” asked John.

  “I don’t have the papers. But neither do the people behind all this, so far as I can tell,” said Lyle. He looked confused and near panic.

  “Okay, calm down, Lyle. Nobody’s blaming you. You only did what you thought to be the right thing.”

  “I think Mr. Linssman feared this happening,” said Lyle, trying to regain his composure. “His plan was perfectly designed to avoid the papers falling into the wrong hands. Have all your houses been broken into by now?”

  “Yes,” was the emphatic answer from Jess, while John and Frank nodded.

  “He knew it would happen and that my office would likely be targeted also, so we set up a hiding strategy. He gave me an envelope already sealed and addressed from me to an attorney in Chicago. In the event that I was contacted to execute his estate, I was to mail the envelope. I don’t know what was in it, but it included a couple of smaller envelopes inside.”

  “Did you mail it?” asked Frank.

  “Yes, but not right away. Fortunately I did it before the place was ransacked.

  “My dad died trying to bring these papers to the right eyes,” said Jess. “Can you give me the name of the other attorney, the one in Chicago?”

  Lyle frowned and looked uncomfortable. “I don’t remember right now. Bernstein, or Bronstein. Something like that. Debbie, my assistant, will probably know. I treated the case under the false name of Claude Pitken. It’s set up as a divorce case, and so far as Debbie knows, the attorney at the other end is Mrs. Pitken’s lawyer. Debbie told me she’d never corresponded with anyone by that name, so I said I was doing it as a favor for a distant cousin. I’m sure she’ll recall the name.

  “Debbie, could you bring me the estate files for Mr. Linssman?” said Lyle as they walked back into the office. “Oh and also, the name and contact info of the attorney for Mrs. Pitken? I’ll need to follow up on that later.”

  In a few minutes Debbie walked into the office where the four sat and gave Lyle a folder with a sticky note on top. Lyle picked up the note and saw the name Samuel L. Braunstein, with a telephone number. He picked up his phone and dialed the number. In a moment he was connected.

  “Sam Braunstein” said the voice.

  “Lyle Ferguson here, I’m calling regarding the Pitken case.”

  “We’ve done as the instructions specified,” replied Braunstein. “I sent the packages to Mrs. Pitken yesterday. At her two addresses, as a matter of fact.”

  “Can you tell me the addresses?” asked Lyle. “I hate not knowing what’s going on.”

  “I’m with you there,” said Sam, “but the note left strict instructions not to divulge to anybody where the packages went. We kept no record of it.”

  Lyle thanked Braunstein then he spoke to the group. “I think we’re done with matters today. Let me walk you to your car.”

  “I wanted to step out because I’m not absolutely sure the office isn’t bugged after the break-in,” said Lyle once they were outside. “Jess, your dad never told me exactly what he’d planned, but now I’m getting the picture. He knew that people would come looking for those papers after his death. If they were in any of your hands,” he paused then looked at the group of them, looked down, and continued, “they’d have been found and you would have been killed. Granted, two of you almost were. But I think the key here is that he knew that the search would be the most intense within about two weeks of his death. So he hid the papers in time, rather than a specific place. The envelope I sent Braunstein had another two envelopes inside. I knew that, but it also had instructions to wait a period of time then mail the inside envelopes to Mrs. Pitken at two addresses I don’t have, but it’s a good bet it’s to one or two of you. While the envelopes were hiding in Chicago, we’ve all been broken-into, searched, and found not to have anything of value. But that time having passed, we’ll get the information back now that it’s safer. We’ll all have to check any P.O. boxes we have for letters to Mrs.
Pitken.”

  “Thank you Lyle, you’ve been a Godsend,” said Jess. Lyle blushed slightly, not knowing what to say.

  “I don’t have a P.O. box,” said John.

  “I do, but it’s affiliated with Tilbury, in Chicago,” said Frank. “I hope Robbie was smarter than to send it there.”

  “Jess?”

  “I have one in Albany.”

  “Then you’re the obvious choice,” said John, “assuming Robbie knew you had it.”

  “Absolutely. He’s the one who set it up for me. He thought student housing is no place to be sending checks and things. I kept it after graduating.”

  The three were about to get back in the car for the drive to Albany when Lyle said, “I’m coming too, if you don’t have any objections. When Robbie came to me looking for help, I realized he was up against something he couldn’t beat on his own, something I know a little about. I was never going to bill Robbie for this matter. I feel invested in this too. Besides, look at what they did to my office.”

  Jess glanced at Lyle and saw him quickly avert his gaze so he wouldn’t be caught looking at her. She smiled warmly in his direction and was pretty sure he noticed.

  …

  They drove to Albany in two cars, with Lyle and Jess in one, John and Frank in the other. “It was Robbie who involved all of us in this,” said Frank. “If Jess has the missing memo, then I think I can say it was his unspoken will that we work together and do the right thing here.”

  “I’m starting to fear that’s true,” said John.

  In an hour they were at the post office, and Jess popped in, coming out in less than a minute with a small bundle of mail in one hand. Her expression suggested disappointment.

  “It could still be in the mail,” said Lyle. “It hasn’t been that long. You’ll all need a safe place to stay while we wait. My house should be safer than any of yours, let’s go there.”

  Chapter 35: A Resignation

  Treasury Secretary Tom Gallant had asked to see Torres, and Levine made room for him on the schedule ahead of Morgensen that day. Torres didn’t know what to expect, but Gallant got right to the point as he walked in purposefully and sat straight down in the visitor’s chair.

  “Sir, I wanted to stress to you that it’s a serious mistake to press the case against Leonard Clarkson.” Clarkson was the former chief executive of the major investment house Tillman Macy. “He was acting well within the limits set by years of precedent.”

  “Tom, it was the Justice Department that decided there was a case. It really wasn’t my decision, other than that I didn’t object.”

  “You need to object, Sir. Clarkson is extremely well connected. He manages money for some very wealthy people.”

  “He personally approved the sale of securities he knew were worthless. A lot of wealthy people lost money on those securities. Maybe even some of the same ones you’re concerned about.”

  “We could bail them out” offered Gallant. “But criminal charges in the elite circles of the financial industry are unprecedented. You could be opening a Pandora’s box here.”

  “Then take it up with the Attorney General, Tom,” said Torres with a dismissive wave and a frown. “But know this. I am not going to tell him to back off if he has a firm criminal case.”

  “I’ve already spoken with him. Without your call to the contrary, he’s going ahead with the case. I have to warn you that there will be difficulties ahead for you and for the administration.”

  “You mean worse than what we’ve seen to this point?” asked Torres. “I’m possibly the most unpopular man in rural America. And you can’t manage to complete your bond auctions without Havenstein’s intervention at the Fed. You can’t inspire confidence with the Chinese. I hear they’re selling bonds now. How much worse are you saying it’s going to be, Tom? I don’t see where you’re doing much of anything right.”

  “Since I seem to have lost your confidence, Mr. President, I will submit my resignation, following a period you deem necessary to pick my replacement,” said Gallant. “But please don’t say I didn’t tell you there would be difficulties ahead.”

  “Very well, Tom. Make your announcement at the start of December, and step down at the end of the year. That should be a smooth enough transition. We’ll use the usual line about spending more time with your family. Now tell me, what sort of difficulties did you have in mind?”

  “I can’t really specify because I don’t know what they’ll do. The leading financial interests know how to protect their own, and their methods are not transparent. But when you cross them they will respond. That much is certain.”

  As they concluded, Torres couldn’t get Gallant’s bizarre warning out of his head. Things were already so screwed up, how could they get any worse?

  Chapter 36: The Ferguson Estate

  Lyle lived outside Kingston at his parents’ family home, a large colonial manor with white pillars outside and dark wood floors and wall detailing. They had magnificent views of the Catskill Mountains across an expanse of pastureland where they kept horses. Jess was enchanted by the charm of the place and quickly settled in to one of the guest rooms. All of them were put up in comfort in the beautiful old house.

  The remainder of the afternoon was spent sitting outside and enjoying the views and the comfortable fall weather. Later, Lyle’s housekeeper summoned them for dinner and a chance to meet Lionel Ferguson Sr. He was a gregarious old man, tall like Lyle and frail with age, but seemingly unburdened by daily responsibilities. He took to Jess immediately, and delighted in telling her slightly off-color stories, which she found amusing and somehow charming.

  After a delightful meal where they were able to forget the worries of their situation, they moved to a sitting room with a bottle of brandy Lionel had brought out. As they settled in, he said, “Lyle indicated you were in some trouble.”

  John looked at his glass before replying. “You have a wonderful place here, Mr. Ferguson. You live in peace with your surroundings, and you appear to have no worries. I apologize deeply for bringing a violent issue to your home.”

  Lionel waved his hand, deflecting the apology. “Everyone has worries, John. I’m no exception. But I understand you’re in danger. If you can be safe here, I’m happy to help. Robbie was a friend of mine, as you know.”

  “Thank you, sir, it’s appreciated. We’re being pursued by the people who killed him. They think we have something that we don’t,” said John.

  “We think it would have been mailed to Jess’ P.O. Box in Albany, but there’s nothing there, at least not yet.” said Lyle. “It’s probably still in the mail, hidden from whoever did this.”

  “Robert Linssman was a very principled man,” said Lionel. “That he gave his life for something he believed in doesn’t surprise me. You know you’ll have to pursue this thing he found. It would dishonor his memory to do otherwise.”

  “I wanted him to leave it alone,” said John. “I know from my past that tragedy can follow where principle first leads. Now we’ve all lost Robbie.”

  “Don’t you think you should ask young Jess how she feels about it?” asked Lionel.

  All eyes turned to Jess, with John a little embarrassed at having to be reminded of this obvious courtesy. “I’m with my dad,” said Jess. “I’m willing to follow in his footsteps if he thought this was worthwhile.”

  “I knew you’d say that,” said Lionel. “I certainly hope young Lyle snatches you up before anyone else does. It’s not often I see a girl so beautiful and so full of life.”

  Jess shrugged off Lionel’s comment with a smile, leaving him the wide berth of discretion due to overly enthusiastic old men. She did however sneak a glance at Lyle to gauge his reaction.

  “John, while you may be right about the danger, a life lived in fear of doing the right thing is rather unsatisfying.” Lionel wasn’t going to let the topic go so quickly. “I’m not just pulling this out of my ass either. Young Lyle and I had a similar discussion only a few years ago. There’s not
time to go over it right now, but he did the right thing, at some cost to himself financially. He’s far happier now. Aren’t you Lyle?”

  “Yes dad,” said Lyle. “And now that you’ve embarrassed everyone, maybe we should all say good night. We’ll want to check that P.O. Box every day until something turns up.”

  Lyle went to the office the following morning, while Jess, John and Frank drove to Albany to check the P.O. Box. They returned empty handed by 11 am, and were welcomed by Lionel, who promptly called Lyle to tell him they had returned. Lyle finished his work early and returned home for lunch. In the afternoon, they walked to the Shokan Reservoir and enjoyed the colors of the leaves on the hills as fall started to set in. Frank and John walked with Lionel, while Lyle and Jess walked ahead. “I’d like to go for a run,” said Jess.

  “I run too,” said Lyle. “Mind if I come with you?”

  “Sure. If you think you can keep up.”

  They ran casually back to the house, changed into shorts and ran for over an hour. Lyle came back slightly ahead of Jess, both of them in obviously high spirits. Not ready to call it a day, they went to the reservoir for a swim, but after a while went to a beached canoe and paddled out a ways. Smiling directly at Lyle, Jess deliberately tipped the canoe over. They laughed and played in the water for a while longer, before returning to the house.

  Watching the whole thing, John said to Lionel, “She’s been through a tough time. She may not show it, but I know her better than anyone, and she’s been hurting. It’s nice to see her blowing off some steam.”

  “And I’m glad to see the young lad finally making time for the ladies. Between his career adventures and my wife’s death, he’s never taken the time to see girls in any serious way. And she’s a beauty.”