Ginger Snaps

by Webb Hubbell

  “Tag, I want to pose a hypothetical. I realize this is new to you, and I’ll be happy with an educated guess. What would happen to the economy if a reliable cure for cancer suddenly dropped into the marketplace?”

  “Well, since you’re buying, I’ll give you an answer that’s worth the price of this lunch. The answer is—very little. Whatever the drug companies lost on old cancer treatments would be offset by the cost of marketing and selling the new drug. Some companies would suffer, but others would reap the rewards of a miracle drug. Given the time it takes to bring any new drug to the public, the economy would have plenty of time to adjust. Is your question even feasible?”

  “Probably not, but let me add to the hypothesis. What if the science was available to anyone, and the cure was free or relatively so, without the need for drug manufacturers, doctors or pharmacies—sort of like an aspirin or heartburn medicine?”

  “The government won’t let that happen. You’re talking about drying up a huge sector of the economy. Clearly the world would be a lot better off, but such a discovery would have to be phased in over a long period of time in order to maintain stability. Otherwise, it could be an economic catastrophe.” Tag looked troubled. “Jack, you’re talking about trying to balance the value of life with the likelihood of economic chaos. The FDA makes these types of decisions every day, though they would never admit it. Economics are a major factor in their decisions, although they hide behind phrases like ‘Protecting America’s Health.’”

  Walter asked, “Do you think a comprehensive study of Jack’s hypothetical could minimize the uncertainty?”

  Tag looked even more uncertain. “Well, to do it right would be very expensive—I’d have to create new computer models—but yes. The right study, done by the right people, would help significantly. I’d have to know how far along the company is in the drug’s development.”

  I looked at Walter, unsure of where he was headed. He was way ahead of me.

  “Technically, this is Jack’s decision, but we want to hire you and your firm to produce such a study on behalf of Bridgeport Life and the Matthews Foundation. For everything you learn to remain within the privilege, my law firm will actually hire you. It’s imperative for you to begin this work as soon as possible.” Tag’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth dropped open.

  “Wow. You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. We don’t have the time,” Walter replied firmly. “If you’re not interested, I’ll find someone who is.”

  They agreed to meet again later that afternoon, and we all left, Tag still looking shell-shocked.

  Walter dropped me off at the office, and I met Maggie walking in the door. She had lunched with a friend at the Federal Trade Commission, hoping to gain some insight into who might profit from a potential cure for cancer.

  “How’d it go?” I asked.

  “Well, we had a very nice lunch—you know, catching up on friends, trading a little gossip. Oddly, it was Ruth who brought up the business, not me. She said she’d heard her boss talking about how you’d gotten involved in a case that looked like a simple drug bust, but was actually a matter of national security. She told me very politely that we should butt out. The White House is handling whatever’s going on, and everyone else had been told to stay away. Sounded to me like she knew a lot more than ‘I heard my boss talking . . . ’”

  “And . . . ?”

  “Well, I managed to change the subject, and she seemed to get more comfortable. I used one of your old tricks—kept her glass full. As we were about to leave she said, ‘Maggie, be careful.’ I nodded without thinking and asked for the check. Then, out of the blue, she leaned across the table, ‘I understand Jack is involved in an antitrust investigation of Akron Drugs.’ I assured her we weren’t. She gave me a quick kiss and left before I could say a word. Jack, is there an ongoing investigation of Akron?”

  “Not as far as I know. Think she was trying to tell you otherwise?”

  “It certainly seemed so. Shall I handle it, or do you have any special instructions?” She knew I’d have to put my two cents in.

  “Yes, don’t go through normal channels. Call David Dickey and ask him to give you an opinion on Akron. He’ll get it when you tell him you don’t want our foundation’s possible investment to raise any flags.”

  David handled all the investments for the foundation. He’s Walter’s favorite financial advisor and a great guy to boot. We’d have a full report on Akron Drugs within a matter of days, and no one would know we were interested.

  Rose stepped into the office. “Jack, Cheryl Cole is on the phone. Says she’s returning your call. Should I tell her the check already went out?”

  “No, Rose, I really did call her this time. I’ll take it.” Maggie gave me a scowl and left to call David.

  “Cheryl—how nice to hear your voice!”

  “I hope you’re calling to say you’ve increased my allowance.”

  “Nope, same amount. I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Jack Patterson is asking me for a favor? This is a first. It must be a whopper.”

  “I think you might find it intriguing,” I replied, hoping to pique her curiosity.

  “Hmm . . . then it’s going to cost you drinks at a very public place.” She wasn’t above milking speculation. She was probably dialing the Washington Post as we spoke.

  “I’m happy to buy you drinks, but our first meeting needs to be at least a little private. Surely you know a nice place where we won’t be noticed until you decide to break the story.”

  “There’s a story in this favor?”

  “Only if you’re intrigued.”

  “I know the perfect place. People will recognize me, but if they know who you are, I’ll just say you’re bringing me up to date on Woody.”

  Her perfect place was one of those new hot spots near the Newseum. It was hardly private, but Cheryl had a plausible story. We agreed to meet at six.

  Clovis arrived and collapsed onto the office couch. He’d spent the whole day with “computer geeks” and was “just plain wore out.”

  “By the way, Stella puts Walter’s geeks to shame. She’s now got Micki and Debbie set up at the ranch with a system that should be impregnable. Apparently, everyone’s been hacked, and Micki’s phones were bugged, but the intrusions were so well disguised it was almost impossible to discover. She isolated the spyware in Micki’s computer system in a way the hackers won’t know we’re on to them; same for the bugs. Walter’s flying her here to do the same thing for Bridgeport and the Foundation.

  “So who’s behind all this? Who has this level of sophistication? And, sorry to ask, but Stella’s not a Moira, is she?”

  “No, she’s not. Of that I’m sure. I don’t think she can figure out who the bad guys are, but she can take care of our computer security issues.”

  “Okay, the sooner the better. I’m sorry—I had to ask,” I said. “What about Walter getting the line of credit? Do ‘they’ know about that?”

  “No. Walter is handling the letter the old fashioned way—in person.”

  “Okay, good. I’m off to see if I can stir up some trouble with Cheryl Cole.”

  “That woman’s nothing but trouble. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Not exactly, but I figure it’ll come to me.”

  The warm sunshine of the late spring afternoon felt luxurious on my face as I walked down Pennsylvania Avenue. Washington is a beautiful city if you can ignore the traffic and don’t fall prey to the intense backstabbing that’s part of its culture.

  I was the first to arrive—no surprise. If you’re on time, that means you’re not busy and therefore not important, the ultimate DC sin. A few heads turned as I was seated, but I was last year’s news, so interest quickly died. I was content to enjoy an Oregon Pinot Gris I hadn’t seen before on a restaurant wine list. Cheryl arrived twenty minutes later, and I had to admire the way she worked the room. It took her a good ten minutes to cross, stopping a
t every table. I first met Cheryl when she was Woody’s college girlfriend. Back then her unruly hair had been as scruffy as her faded jeans. Now every bit of her package conveyed power. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her skin was flawless, and her clothes radiated class. Her trademark silk blouse was always unbuttoned one too many. Cheryl couldn’t be called beautiful, but she was attractive enough, and she could sell her song.

  She greeted me with a kiss square on the lips that took me aback. Maggie’s warning light was glowing. She beckoned to the waiter and smiled easily.

  “Paul, I’ll have my usual: a large bottle of Pellegrino, a glass of ice, and a cup of decaf.”

  Pretty soon the waiter returned bearing the Pellegrino, a glass of ice, and a coffee cup filled with bourbon. She noticed me staring as she dropped a couple of ice cubes into the cup.

  “What one eats and drinks in this town is fair game to anyone who notices. If I were to order a bourbon and water, it would be all over town that I was soused on the air. Be sure to reward Paul well. Your tip will be in the Post tomorrow—heaven forbid—if you aren’t generous.”

  The Post relishes celebrity comings and goings, whether they’re movie stars or politicians. Come to think if it, everyone in DC does—in some ways it is a very small town.

  “First, tell me what you know about Woody, so I won’t have to lie if someone asks.”

  “Actually, not much at all. Micki sees him more often than I do. His quarters are pretty small, but you know Woody; he doesn’t need much. Sam says he’s doing well.”

  Cheryl waved across the room at someone. I could tell she was already bored. I needed to get her attention and keep it.

  I raised my glass, smiling. “You look really good, Cheryl. I’m glad you’re so successful. So is Woody.”

  I watched as she measured her response. “I’m tempted to turn on my charms and seduce you, Jack. You’re still one good-looking man. But I have a feeling you’re that rare breed of man who wouldn’t take the bait. So let’s cut the crap. You need a favor and, since I owe you about a hundred, tell me what it’s all about. Let’s say I’m intrigued.”

  No warm-up pitches. Lock and load.

  “I want you to come to Little Rock under the pretense of doing a story about what has happened since Senator Robinson was shot.”

  “Could be a good story, but not my cup of tea.” She lifted her cup in a toast and tossed down the liquor without a hiccup, signaling the waiter for a refill.

  “I know it’s not, but it’s an excuse to interview Dub Blanchard, the U.S. attorney, and to get him to tell you about his task force.”

  “He’s asked twice to come on my show, claims some chemist is abusing children or something like that. Disgusting man, your Mr. Blanchard. Besides, what’s one more drug bust?”

  “Nothing, but Dub’s a star-fucker, ready to appear on every talk show he can to talk about his big drug bust. His pitch isn’t what your show’s about, but I want you to do it anyway.”

  “What’s in it for you? More to the point, what’s in it for me?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Micki and I represent the defendant in Dub’s drug bust. My client also happens to be one of the world’s top chemists. Dub’s gone all hard-ass, won’t let me see him, claiming ‘national security.’ Next Wednesday, the U.S. marshal is going to conduct a civil forfeiture auction of Dr. Stewart’s assets, and I thought you might want to be in the courtroom when it happens.”

  She took a sip of bourbon. “Jack, you never change. You aren’t telling me shit. You want me to go to Little Rock, pretend like I’m doing a story, but in reality cozy up to Dub to find out why he’s keeping you from talking to your client. To top it all off, you want me in the courtroom next Wednesday.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself, except Dub can’t know I asked.”

  She was quick. “Why in the world would I do this? You’ve got to give me more.”

  “I forgot to ask. We are off the record, aren’t we?”

  “Of course,” she said easily. “Off the record” had gone out with vinyl.

  “If I’m right, next Wednesday you’ll be the only television reporter in the courtroom to cover the biggest story to hit the news in a very long time.”

  Her eyes widened. “Okay. I’ll bite. Why me? Why aren’t you going to Katie or Diane? Let’s be honest, I can’t be one of your favorites.”

  “Because any hint that the big-time press knows what this is about, and the story is blown. You’re high enough profile to excite Dub, but not big enough to send up a warning signal to the people pulling his strings.”

  She didn’t like the answer, though she knew it was true.

  “Don’t be offended, Cheryl. If you pull your part off, you’ll outscore both 60 Minutes and World News Tonight, or whatever it’s called.” I had her interest now.

  “One last thing. Getting close to Dub can be extremely dangerous.”

  “Oh, come on, I’ve dealt with men far more dangerous than Dub Blanchard.”

  “Hear me out. Since we’re off the record, and since I think you should know, someone kidnapped Micki, then me, and tried to kill us both. I got lucky. Micki’s in bad shape, still recovering.”

  Now Cheryl’s eyes practically bulged. She ordered her third bourbon. “You want me to believe a U.S. attorney is behind all this? Dub doesn’t have the balls. He’s a fucking weasel.”

  “You’re right about that. No, this is way above Dub’s pay grade. I think he was chosen to be the front man because he happens to be the U.S. attorney for the district and he’s got skeletons in his closet. No, he’s not calling the shots. I warn you because he does have a reputation when it comes to women. The more I think about this, it’s unfair to ask you to get involved. I’m sorry. I promise to let you in on it when it’s over.” I might as well have waved a red flag at a bull.

  Cheryl grabbed my wrist, practically panting. “No, you don’t, Jack Patterson. I’m a big girl. Tell me whatever you can. I’m not as dumb as I look, you know. I smell a story, a career-making story. Don’t tease me.”

  She nursed her bourbon and listened as I told her how to play the part. She had her own ideas, and we finished with a pretty good game plan.

  I asked. “Don’t you have a show tonight?”

  “If you mean the bourbon, I know my limit. You’d be surprised how many talk show hosts have more than water in those coffee cups.” She smiled. “Tell me, Jack, how come you and I’ve never gotten together?”

  “I was married, and you were married to my best friend—two very good reasons.”

  “Not for me,” she laughed.

  “I know, but for me they were both game stoppers.”

  “What about now? Angie, God rest her soul is gone, and I’m divorced.”

  “Not that any sane man wouldn’t be interested, but you’re still the former wife of my best friend, who’s still in love with you—again, a game stopper.”

  “Jack Patterson, loyal to the core. You’ll never change, but I’ll tell you one thing—you are missing out.”

  “That I’m sure of, Cheryl. That I’m sure of.” I raised my glass in a toast wondering who her guests were tonight. Boy, were they in for a hot time.

  “I’ll call Dub tomorrow morning and we’ll go from there. I’ve got a feeling I just joined a gang of thieves.”

  In a sense, she could be right. I hoped so.

  The skies were ominous, big thunderheads building up in Virginia, but Maggie was determined we should have dinner at the Lebanese Taverna in Bethesda, not far from my house—wonderful Lebanese food and great service. Clovis and Maggie were fascinated by my conversation with Cheryl, although Maggie wasn’t happy with how I had roped her in. It was getting to be a bad habit, inviting others to put themselves in danger.

  We stayed away from business, other than discussing plans to go back to Little Rock via Memphis in a few days. Walter wouldn’t come down until the Tuesday before the auction, bringing the letter of credit with him.

/>   Declining dessert, Walter rose to help Maggie with her jacket. “Well, Jack, we need a little luck, but you know what: I’m looking forward to the fireworks.”

  Clovis and I decided to indulge in a glass of port, not quite ready to call it a night.

  “Maggie is right about Cheryl. I do worry about involving her.”

  “You should. You and Micki are lucky to be alive. Micki’s office was bugged, and all our computers were hacked, including the Foundation’s and Bridgeport’s. Your foundation is under audit, and Walter’s companies are being investigated. To top it off, whoever is behind all this sent an international assassin to Arkansas, just in case somebody got wind of their plans. I wouldn’t say you’re overly cautious. Maybe in over your head, but definitely not overly cautious.”

  I chuckled. “In over my head is hardly an adequate description.”

  The storm broke with a flash of lightening and a torrent of rain just before we climbed into the rented Suburban. Waiting until we had shaken the water off, our driver said calmly. “You guys have company. Those two followed you into the restaurant and now have followed you out. Want me to lose them?” He pointed to two other guys hastily climbing into an old Subaru.

  Clovis answered. “No, just get us home. Better have somebody watch the house.”

  He turned to me. “I’ll be glad to get back to Arkansas. I can spot a stranger there, but I’m useless in DC.”

  “Hardly useless, but otherwise you’re right. I never thought I’d look forward to returning to Little Rock, but I do. I’m ready to play our hand, see if we can pull this thing off. I’m not optimistic—they haven’t made many mistakes, and we’re up against overwhelming resources. But we do have surprise on our side. That’s got to count for something.”

  FRIDAY MORNING

  May 2, 2014

  49

  THE ALARM CLOCK read four o’clock when I woke from a nightmare about Moira wielding a branding iron. I wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep, but the prospect of another bad dream got me out of bed and into the shower. I relaxed for an extra-long time, letting the warm water loosen the knots from wounds old and new. I also began to rehearse my role in the upcoming auction.