Family Secrets: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  The first thing I did when I got back was to go by Mildred's and pick up Wilson. We went home so I could change into my running clothes and went for a run. Then we shared a large pepperoni pizza for dinner. At seven, I called June.

  “Hope I'm not disturbing your evening,” I said when she answered.

  “Not at all,” she said. “Just reading.”

  She sounded tired.

  “I was wondering if you could come by my office tomorrow morning.”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Nine?”

  “Nine. See you then.”

  Exercised and fed, Wilson was ready for a night's sleep on his own bed. He went into our bedroom and zonked out on his imitation lamb's wool bed that lay at the foot of my bed. While he slept, I thought about the case. Alex's observation about June’s office being bugged was right. The first team of guys that had tried to warn me off had approached me after I'd met with June in her office. June and I had discussed the eyewitness and my trip to Falls Church in her office. The only way someone could have been watching me in Falls Church was if they knew ahead of time that I was going to be there. Someone was bugging June's office. And whoever it was, was willing to murder to keep Lindell Industries' mistakes and indiscretions secret. And whoever was listening would have to assume that I was aware of at least some of the secrets and that June was now also aware. What did that mean? It meant that keeping the secrets secret would require killing not only me, but June as well.

  Chapter 40

  Wilson and I arrived at the office at eight after our morning run. It felt good to get back to our normal routine. June was coming at nine. That gave me an hour to get the coffee brewed and think before she got there.

  I got the coffee machine going, made myself a cup of tea and sat down. As I thought about the case and everyone I'd spoken with from the beginning, I remembered that Neil Hoffman, who worked at the Lindell Industries research and development facility in Van Nuys, had said I needed to talk to Cole Jamison. Jamison had worked in R & D thirty years ago and knew Jane. Hoffman had said Jamison would know more about Jane than he had known. Jamison had been vacationing on Santorini and would be back on the seventeenth. That was yesterday. I needed to call Hoffman and have him arrange a meeting with Jamison.

  While I was thinking, Alex called.

  “I called the Falls Church PD,” Alex said, “and asked them if, as a favor to the FBI, they would share their conclusions with us. They said, sure. It was a professional hit. A .22 to the head. No brass. No prints. No one saw anyone go in or out. Husband found her several hours later.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay, Alex. Thanks. You've put in a lot of time on this and I really appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, well, these people are serious. You need someone to watch your back. How about I take some vacation time and we work this thing together?”

  “You don't think I can handle them?”

  “I got the info back on the woman in Century City. Her name was not Kim. Her name was Lin Chou. Chinese-American. I talked to an Interpol agent. She was an international assassin, suspected in over twenty deaths. As good as they come. He said the guy who got her was either very good or very lucky.”

  “And you told him I was very good, right?”

  “No. But I told him you were humble.”

  “I see.”

  “Jake, I'm concerned.”

  “I know. I'm starting to get concerned myself. But not so much for me as for June.”

  “June?”

  “They know that she knows. If they're willing to kill others to keep their secret from getting out, they may be willing to kill her too.”

  “You're right,” Alex said. “You think she'll go for a guard?”

  “I don't know. She'll be here in a while. I'll let you know.”

  Mildred arrived a few minutes before nine and Wilson went to get his treat. Wilson was busy with his cookie when my phone rang. It was Gloria.

  “You didn’t call,” she said.

  “I just got back.”

  “You owe me a lunch.”

  “I do,” I said. “And I pay my debts. But right now’s not a good time.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Gloria said.

  “I know. And I’m sorry. But it’s true and I’m serious. There have been some rather serious people attempting to interfere with my work.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means it’s dangerous to be with me right now.”

  She was silent.

  “Look, you understand the kind of work I do. Right now is just not good. When this is over, I’ll treat you to a nice lunch. In fact, I’ll even upgrade it to a dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Dinner. At a nice restaurant.”

  She hesitated, but finally said, “All right. I believe you.”

  “Really?” I said. “You bought that?”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny Jake. If it were anyone else I wouldn’t believe it. But I know you. You don’t lie about stuff like that.” She took a deep breath. “You be careful, okay?”

  “I’m always careful.”

  June arrived a couple minutes after nine. Mildred brought her into my office. She was wearing her work clothes: a navy suit, a white blouse, black high heels. The skirt of her suit came a couple inches above her knees. She had nice knees. She wore a single strand of pearls around her neck. Wilson, who had remained with Mildred as he enjoyed his cookie, came back into my office with them and took his place on his pillow.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said.

  “My pleasure,” she said, smiling. “You've come to my office several times, my turn to do the driving.”

  “That's not why I asked you to come here.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Actually,” I said, “in this case it does.”

  She studied me for a moment. “What have you discovered?”

  “It's not so much what I've discovered. It's what happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “Watch the news in the last couple of days?”

  “Everyday,” she said.

  “You remember hearing a story about a woman in Falls Church?”

  Her face went white.

  “Was that ...?”

  “Yeah. She was our witness. Someone was following me, watching me, to discover who she was. Then they followed her, waited for her, and killed her. It was a professional hit.”

  I waited a bit to let that part sink in. Her eyes roamed the room as she tried to make sense of it. Her breathing seemed a little labored.

  “Whoever's doing this,” I said, “is serious. They've graduated from local amateurs and wannabe thugs to professional assassins. They made two serious attempts on my life and have now killed a witness. Whatever they're hiding, they're serious about keeping it hidden.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, still pale but breathing more normally. After a moment, she said, “So what do we do about it?”

  I liked that. She was a gutsy woman.

  “We need to do a couple of things. First, I want to place you under guard. I want someone with you all the time.”

  Her expression didn't change as she waited for me to go on.

  “And second, we need to talk to your father.”

  At that, she took a deep breath. “How would the guard part work?” she asked.

  “We would try very hard not to intrude into your life and work. But someone would be with you 24/7.”

  “An around the clock escort?”

  “Yes.”

  You really think that's necessary?”

  “There have been two attempts on my life and a key witness has been murdered. Yes, I think it's necessary. It's also necessary because they, whoever they are, know that you know at least some of what they're trying to keep secret.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I explained that the only way they could have killed Julie was if they knew where I was going and were there, watching. The only way they
could have known there was a witness and where she was, was if they had her office bugged.

  I could see that the thought of it was both infuriating and chilling to her.

  “That's why you asked me to come here.”

  I nodded.

  She shook her head. “I'm struggling with the thought that my father is not the man I thought he was.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked away.

  “I understand,” I said. “But you must remember that your father may not be behind this. Someone else within the company, a very powerful person, may be doing all this without your father's knowledge.”

  She considered that for a moment. Her eyes came back to mine and she said, “And that is why my father must be confronted with what's going on.”

  “Exactly.”

  She took another moment to think. “This proposed guard,” she said, “who would it be?”

  “My closest friend. An FBI agent named Alex Watson. We help each other out from time to time. He does favors for me; I do favors for him. He's got some vacation time coming. He'll use it to work with me in whatever capacity necessary.”

  “And he won't mind babysitting detail?”

  “Protecting people, keeping them safe, is not babysitting detail.”

  “Of course it's not. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to minimize what you do. It just seems like it would be very boring sitting around and waiting for something to happen.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  She was silent for a moment.

  Finally, I said, “You haven't said yes yet.”

  “I'm having trouble believing that someone in my own company would attempt to have me killed,” she said. “But given the evidence you've presented, I can't deny the possibility. So I suppose we ought to proceed as you’ve suggested.”

  “Good,” I said. “The first thing you should do is call in sick ... or whatever it is a CEO does when she's taking an unscheduled day off.”

  That made her smile. She took out her cell phone, called Ingrid and asked her to cancel her appointments. She told her she would not be coming in today.

  Then to me she said, “Now what?”

  “I assume you can work from home?”

  “Yes.”

  “So we go to your house and lay low for the day. Alex will be available tomorrow.”

  “That's one way to go,” she said.

  “You have an alternate plan?” I asked.

  “Sitting around my house all day seems like a waste of your time. Couldn't you protect me just as well if I accompany you while you continue to investigate?”

  She had a point. I studied her for a moment. “If I say yes, will you do exactly what I tell you to do, even if you don't understand why I'm telling you to do it?”

  She thought about it for a moment. She wasn't used to doing what she was told. A small smile softened her face. “Yes,” she said. “I'll do what I'm told.”

  Chapter 41

  “Okay,” I said. “First thing we do is see if we can get an appointment with Cole Jamison.”

  “Who's that?” June asked.

  “Worked in R & D thirty years ago. Knew Jane. He's been traveling. Just got back. Neil Hoffman says he may have some insights.”

  I called Hoffman and, even though I had Jamison’s cell, asked him to call Jamison and let him know who I was and what I wanted. He said I should wait ten or fifteen minutes and then call him back.

  While I was waiting, I called Alex.

  “Tomorrow?” Alex said, “Sure. Think a week will cover it?”

  “I certainly hope so,” I said.

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m in for the duration.”

  “Thanks for the help,” I said.

  “I got the info you were looking for on the L211.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Had one of my new agents researching it. Letting her prove her skills.”

  “And?”

  “And it was an early generation laser targeting device that did not work well.”

  “Didn't work well?” I said.

  “The laser was pointing at the target, but the bombs went somewhere else. The people who were supposed to die didn't; people who weren't supposed die did. The device didn't work.”

  “How many people died?” I asked.

  “Dozens, probably. Maybe more.”

  “Okay. Thanks. So when can you start?”

  “When do you need me?”

  “How about seven tonight, here at my office?”

  “Seven. See you then.”

  “Bring an overnight bag,” I said.

  “Overnight,” Alex said. “Protection detail on June?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, but just remember, I sleep naked.”

  “Mrs. Morrison,” I said, “is a woman of impeccable taste. She won't be interested.”

  “I'm just saying.”

  “Uh-huh. See you at seven.”

  June was watching me with an expression of amused curiosity. After I clicked off, she said, “Impeccable taste? And, She won't be interested?”

  I shook my head. “Just Alex being Alex. He’s harmless. But quite a good agent. Special Agent in Charge in the L.A. office of the FBI. You’ll be safe.”

  “From him or the bad guys?”

  I laughed. “From both,” I said.

  “I see.”

  Then I asked, “What do you know about the L211?”

  “The L211.” She shook her head and shrugged.

  “A Lindell Industries laser targeting device from the early eighties that was defective. People died.”

  “Is that another of my father's secrets?”

  “Apparently,” I said. “The witness in Falls Church heard your father testify, admit, in a closed door congressional meeting, to manufacturing the defective device.”

  “She told you that?” June asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And now she's dead.”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes wandered the room.

  “The L211?” I said.

  Her eyes came back to mine.

  “I'm not familiar with the device. The L stands for Lindell Industries. The 211 is the device’s numeric identification number. It was the 211th device designed and manufactured by Lindell Industries. Beyond that, all I know is what you just told me.”

  “Where would the paper work on it be?”

  “If it was from the early eighties, it would be in the archives.”

  I looked at my watch. It was time to call Hoffman back. He said Jamison would talk to me and had time today. He said I should call him to set it up. So I did.

  “Mr. Jamison,” I said when he answered his cell, “this is Jake Badger. Neil Hoffman called about me.”

  “Yes,” Jamison said. “We spoke just a little while ago.”

  “He said you would be able to see me today.”

  “Yes. How about meeting over lunch.”

  “Lunch is fine,” I said. “When and where?”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Studio City.”

  “I'm in Chatsworth. How about we split the difference and we meet at noon in Northridge at Claim Jumper on Tampa?”

  “Sounds good. See you then.”

  I clicked off the call and looked at June. She said, “Sounds like we have a lunch date.”

  “We do,” I said.

  Chapter 42

  I'd driven by Claim Jumper on more than one occasion but had never eaten there. It was a mid-priced bar and grill, though it called itself a restaurant and saloon. A burger and fries was between twelve and fifteen dollars. I didn't ask her, but I was pretty sure June had not eaten there, either. Normally I would have been looking forward to the experience. I liked trying new restaurants. But I was too focused on what I could learn from Jamison to be able to anticipate the experience.

  June and I parked and went in. It was five of twelve. Jamison had described himself as mid-fifties, six foot, one ninety, brown hair beginning to gray. He said he'd b
e wearing Levis, a burgundy button down shirt, and a Dodgers ball cap. We didn't see him so we asked for a table, sat, and watched for him.

  In a few minutes I saw him come in. I waved. He saw me and came over. As he approached our table, he saw June. He stopped about six feet away and looked at her and took off his ball cap.

  “Jane?” he said. I could hear the emotion in his voice.

  June smiled a small uncomfortable smile, shook her head slightly and said, “June.”

  Disappointed, but trying to cover it, Jamison put out his hand. As June took it, he said, “Cole Jamison. I worked with Jane.”

  He turned to me and we shook hands. He sat down and turned his attention back to June.

  “So, how is Jane?” he asked.

  June hesitated so I answered. “Jane passed away a few weeks ago.”

  Sadness filled his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he said, as much to himself as to June. “I had no idea.”

  “You couldn't have known,” June said.

  A waitress came and took our orders.

  After she left, he turned his attention to me. “So Neil said you wanted to talk about Jane when she and I worked in R & D.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Do you remember when Jane left?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It was strange. One day she just didn't show up for work. Never heard from her again. No one seemed to know anything about what happened.”

  He looked at June.

  She said, “I hired Mr. Badger to discover why Jane left.”

  “And you think I might be able to help?”

  “We’re hoping,” I said.

  “Like I said, I've no idea why she left.”

  “The thing is, in the process of the investigation, we have discovered a number of corporate indiscretions that Lindell Industries has managed to keep secret for many years and, evidently, will go to murderous lengths to keep secret.”

  Jamison looked uncomfortable, distressed. “What does that mean, exactly, murderous lengths?”

  “When I began asking questions about Jane,” I said, “a couple of amateur thugs tried to warn me off the case. When that didn't work, three more guys showed up. Then it got serious. People trying to kill me. A couple of days ago, in Falls Church, Virginia, an eyewitness to Lindell Industries' corporate blunders was murdered.”