by Webb Hubbell
“When am I going to quit doubting you?”
“Probably never.”
She laughed. “You’ve handed me one hell of a mess—a dirty U.S. Attorney, a whole slew of government officials to investigate, congressional investigations and, with your friend Cheryl milking this for all its worth, a media nightmare. Someday you’re going to have to explain how you figured it all out.”
“Over dinner?” I asked.
“I won’t hold my breath.” She raised her brows and turned to confer with Sam.
Micki and I embraced, and she said, “Nice work, partner—not bad, not too bad at all.”
We all agreed to meet at Micki’s for a celebration. I told them I had an errand to run and they went ahead, chattering about the day. Clovis followed me slowly to his Tahoe.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Moira’s employer is going to be pissed, and she isn’t going to quit. We haven’t seen the last of her. We need to be careful.”
“Aw, come on, Clovis, let’s at least enjoy this day. Besides, Moira’s your problem. That’s why I pay you the big bucks,” I joked. I’d have been more than concerned if I’d noticed the solitary figure slinking out of the courtroom.
I hesitated a minute, then opened the door to the Tahoe. “Clovis, I promise to worry about Moira tomorrow, but not today. Let’s go to City Park. I want to talk to Angie.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Clovis laughed.
After the Cole case the last place I had gone before leaving town was City Park. Little Rock’s City Park was an oasis of green on the outskirts of downtown: ball fields, walking paths, green space, playgrounds, tennis courts, picnic tables, all sheltered by woods of towering oaks and hickories. We pulled into the parking lot, and I told Clovis to wait. He was reluctant, but I told him I’d be in plain sight less than a hundred yards away. Both the dogwoods and the azaleas were in in full flower, and the warm spring sun felt good on my face. I strolled to a tall oak tree shading the creek. I had proposed to Angie under this tree and we used to come here on Sunday mornings to imagine our future. I leaned back against the solid oak and let my body slide to the ground, my mind sliding into the past.
I conjured Angie’s image, closed my eyes, and silently began to tell her about what had happened. I could almost hear her say, “Now do you see why I wanted you to defend Doug?”
Within my reverie I could sense approaching footsteps. I felt relaxed but sort of heavy, it took real effort to open my eyes. A man in a dark suit was walking toward me. Oddly, I recognized him from the courtroom. He’d been sitting next to Ed Thompson, Akron Drug’s senior vice-president. I wondered idly why he was here, whether he was looking for me. He looked friendly enough, but my brain was sounding alarm bells. I knew I should stand up, but I saw that he had taken a handgun out of his coat and was aiming it directly at me. Before I could even breathe, I heard a loud ‘thump,’ and the man crumpled to the ground. I looked around wildly to see a figure with short red hair emerge from behind a nearby tree. Now I couldn’t move a muscle.
Moira walked casually toward my tree. “Mind if I join you?” She asked.
I gestured mutely and she sat beside me, her gun returned to a small clutch now resting on her lap. I couldn’t think how to respond.
“I came back to finish the job I was hired to do, but when I saw Max sitting next to Thompson this afternoon, it really pissed me off. He had obviously been hired to do my job. He would have killed you, Micki, and Debbie, all the while laying the blame squarely on me. No way. And you know what? I didn’t like what I heard in court today. Withholding a cure for cancer is really . . .” She shook her head. “Well, it’s despicable. I even thought about walking away from the contract, leaving you alone or maybe even kidnapping you and taking you back to Brazil. Could be fun, don’t you think? But Jack, if I did that, my boss would send somebody to kill us both. Besides, a girl’s got to make a living, and I have a reputation to maintain.” She gave me a forlorn smile and said, “Sorry, Jack. I hope you can understand.”
She kissed me on the cheek, stood back up, and slowly began to back away. I was beyond any reaction, oddly frozen in the moment.
“Most of the people I kill deserve to die, but you don’t. You knew I’d be back, and you forged ahead anyway. You’ve got guts, and we might have . . . but . . .” She paused, closing her lips and I braced myself. She reached into the small bag. She could hardly miss.
I don’t know what happened first, hearing the explosion or seeing Moira drop to the ground in a heap. Her blood flew everywhere. I tried to wipe it off my hands and face, but I couldn’t escape it. I saw Clovis, as if in slow motion, walk slowly toward her body, his gun still held warily in both hands.
“I hoped you’d show up. I . . . well, thanks.” I hadn’t moved from my seat against the tree. I seemed to be glued to it. My brain seemed stuck as well. After removing the gun from her hand and checking her pulse, or lack thereof, he sunk down beside me, handing me a handkerchief. Paul was off in the distance holding off a growing number of onlookers.
“You okay? Let’s sit here for a few minutes. The park’s a busy place today. Martin’s holding the two guys who were supposed to keep me out of the way until she killed you. She wanted me to die knowing I’d failed to protect you. But I don’t get fooled twice very often. And don’t you be fooled, Jack. All that talk of hers was just that, talk. She was always going to kill you. You, me, then Micki and Debbie.”
“What if you had missed?”
“I don’t miss.” He wasn’t laughing. In fact, I thought he might be a little shaky himself. “Besides, Paul had her in his sights the whole time. She was never going to squeeze that trigger a second time. I have to admit we didn’t plan for a second assassin—that guy was a surprise. Guess we owe Moira for handling him so efficiently.”
“Yeah, right, you go ahead and thank her, not me. I’ve had enough of her. How’d you know I’d want to come here?”
“You’ve told me a lot about Angie over the last year or so, how much this park meant to the two of you. Didn’t take a law degree to know you’d need a little time to wind down. Where else but here? Martin, Paul, and I have spent a good portion of the last few days trying to figure out what to do about Moira. Good thing you’re so predictable.”
Finally able to laugh, he eased up the tree to his feet and called Sam. The adrenaline had kicked in, and I was trying hard not to shake. He offered me a hand up, and we stood leaning against the big oak, waiting for the police to arrive. Neither of us said another word; we didn’t need to.
60
SAM AND THE Little Rock Police wheeled into the park, sirens blazing, and took charge. Clovis gave him a brief version of what happened, and Sam suggested we return to Micki’s. He put a firm hand to my shoulder, walked me to the Tahoe, and told me to get some sleep. I guess he could tell I was pretty much done in. Clovis called Micki to give her a quick rundown of what had happened. I dreaded having to retell the story a hundred times when I got to her place.
When we pulled into the drive, I was surprised to find a celebration already in full gear. Apparently my attempted murder hadn’t put a damper on the evening. Micki looked almost like her old self. I asked if she felt well enough to take over Doug’s defense. The wheels of real justice had been set in motion, and it was time to get Doug out of jail.
Eyes alight, she responded, “You bet—I’m back!”
I found Walter engaged in deep conversation with Liz. I was a little surprised to see her laughing and in such good spirits, but glad to see she’d dropped her alternate personality. I cautioned them it would be a long tough fight before we got our hands on Doug’s research.
Liz giggled a little. “Oh, Jack, don’t be a wet blanket—we won! And admit it: I bet you think I was crazy to spend any time or money on Doug’s cars.”
“Of course not. I looked at them myself. Both engines run just fine, and the Healy’s in great shape.” Liz smiled broadly and Walter gazed at the ceiling, whistlin
g a little tune. “Wait a minute—what?”
“I don’t really care about the cars, silly. But I do care a lot about two zip drives—one in each basin of the windshield wiper fluid, all packaged to stay nice and dry.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and handed one to me.
Walter was beside himself. “Each drive contains all the information on Doug’s computer: all his research, his patent applications, and the latest recipe for his special spice.”
I gave a whoop and turned to Liz. “You knew all . . .”
Walter interrupted me mid-sentence. “Wait, Jack, wait till you hear the rest. There’s also a note from Doug—the computers hold only part of his research and the spice recipe is missing key ingredients. The government and Akron Drug may think they can stop us, but what they have is worthless. The foundation will pay Liz for these hard drives and give Doug all the support he needs, even if we have to do it in another country.”
Liz kissed me on the cheek. “Doug will be working with you and the foundation just like he used to work with Angie. It won’t ever be the same without her, but he’ll be happy and so will I.”
Overjoyed by our good fortune and Doug’s good sense, I gave her a heartfelt hug and shook Walter’s hand vigorously. But the day’s events had finally gotten the best of me. I just wanted to curl up in my bed and sleep. I was out before my head hit the pillow. I understand the celebration lasted far into the night.
THURSDAY
May 8, 2014
61
OVER COFFEE THE next morning, Maggie and Walter told me they were flying back to DC that afternoon. For a moment, I thought about joining them. I felt sure Akron’s lawyers would file an avalanche of motions, making it next to impossible for Judge Houston to convene court next Wednesday. Sam would be working night and day on the mess I’d handed him. Little Rock wasn’t home, hadn’t been for years. But I wasn’t ready for DC yet, either. I knew both Sam and the Feds would need a complete explanation of the two dead bodies in City Park. Clovis came up with the perfect solution. We would do our civic duty, then spend a long weekend at his fishing camp on the White River. The weather was beautiful and the fish were biting. Just two friends fishing, eating, drinking, and swapping stories.
MR. KIM SAT quietly in his office with a view of the White House. Once again Patterson had gotten the better of him. Cleaning up the mess would be expensive and time-consuming, and it would be difficult to replace his two best assassins. A weaker man would order quick and certain retaliation, but he had decided against it. His organization didn’t need the scrutiny that would follow if Patterson disappeared now; better to devote his attention to the client’s rehabilitation. Besides, he held no personal grudge against the man. Surely Patterson realized that he had twice come very close to death; surely he wouldn’t cross the organization again. If not, well, Mr. Kim would be prepared.
EPILOGUE
MICKI QUICKLY WORKED out a deal with Fitzhugh to get Doug released and the charges dropped. Doug had violated the law but, given the government’s actions, Fitzhugh decided that prosecuting Doug would do more damage than good to the much bigger issues facing Peggy and Sam. When he was released from jail, Walter’s plane was waiting to whisk him and Liz away for two weeks at a house on Pawley’s Island in South Carolina. They’d return in plenty of time for Doug to cooperate in the upcoming investigations.
Akron Drug went into full damage control mode. Within a matter of days they landed a full crisis management team on the ground, headed by a former deputy FBI director and the recently retired White House Director of Legislative Affairs. They chose to blame everything on “rogue low-level employees.” Several officers, including Thompson, quietly resigned, well protected by the legal team as well as by handsome retirement benefits. Sam and Peggy are up against Akron’s bottomless pocketbook and an army of lawyers and former legislative aides. I still have my money on Sam and Peggy.
Dub posted bail and pulled strings to get admitted to the Betty Ford Clinic. Facing probable charges of conspiracy to commit murder, he is also all lawyered up, and refuses to talk. Rumor has it that Akron is footing his legal bills. Bullock, however, has agreed to fully cooperate with Peggy and Sam’s investigation. The other members of the task force have tried to bury themselves in the woodwork.
White-collar criminal defense lawyers are in big demand once again in DC, and a large number of high-ranking individuals in the U.S. government have resigned in order to “spend more time with their families.” For a change, no one in Congress has called for an investigation. Lobbyists for the drug companies are counseling all concerned not to open a “can of worms.”
Cheryl’s ratings have gone through the roof. She has a fat new contract and is milking the Akron Drug scandal for all it’s worth. I have refused to appear on her show despite her pleas that I owe her.
Micki reports that Debbie and Paul are constant companions. They jog together, and she’s teaching him how to cook. I had dinner with Sam and Peggy last week at Othello’s, off DuPont Circle. It’s clear they enjoy working together. For once, Peggy didn’t ask when I was going to take her to dinner.
I stepped down as president of the foundation. No surprise. I told Walter and Maggie we needed someone who knew the world of medical research and could help Doug take his work to the next level and beyond. The reality, finally faced, is that I’m a lawyer first and last and belong in a courtroom. I’d prefer fewer attempts on my life, but I enjoy the rest. Walter insisted I remain on the board and I have a nice advisory contract with the foundation. My law office is still located in the foundation’s headquarters. I can’t afford to lose Maggie, and she feels the same way.
Doug and I had a long talk about Angie’s involvement in his research. He wants her to be given equal credit for their discoveries. He told me that she was intimately involved before she got so sick, but didn’t want me to know. She told him that I would make her quit because of her legal exposure. Again, I wish she had asked, but then again, she was probably right.
The foundation held a retreat at the Cloisters on Sea Island in Georgia. Angie and I had enjoyed a couple of beach trips there when Beth was a child; now it’s gated and very, very swanky. Too bad.
Doug and the new president of the foundation, Dr. Rohit Catlett, gave us an overview of their plans for his research. Liz didn’t attend. The retreat conflicted with a two-week wellness session in Peru with her “balancing guru.” Only Doug missed her presence.
I asked the board to consider a project that had been rumbling around in my brain since Little Rock. To a certain extent Novak had come out smelling like a rose, a result I couldn’t let go. On a hunch, I asked Clovis to research Moira’s background. It turned out she came to the U.S. when she was just twelve years old, lured by Novak’s organization. I said it was a hunch, but it wasn’t really. Just before we left the Ritz-Carlton in Dallas, Novak had confirmed that Moira had once worked for him. I remembered Debbie’s words: “It takes one to know one.” Moreover, I thought I had noticed a brand when Moira and I were otherwise engaged.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize that Novak didn’t tape his conversations out of some sense of altruism, or a desire to save my life. He did it to protect his own ass. He knew I would use the tapes to stop Dub and whoever was trying to frame him.
He also had good reason to think Moira would complete her contract to eliminate Micki and me, leaving him free to lure Debbie back. Of course, I have no proof of that, but I do know that Novak is ruthless and morally bankrupt, not some sort of good Samaritan.
UNICEF estimates that more than two million children are exploited yearly in the sex industry. Debbie, and to some extent Moira, brought this atrocity home to me. Debbie’s experience wasn’t the exception, it is the norm. The recruitment of young girls, the drugs, the branding, and the torture—it’s all real—not in some far-off place with a name you can’t pronounce, but right here in America’s cities and towns. I wanted our foundation to contribute towards the efforts already underway to brin
g this unconscionable activity to the light of day and to help pursue justice for its victims. The board unanimously approved my proposal. Not surprisingly, Walter insisted that we double the funds I requested.
Maggie had encouraged Stella to join us at the retreat, thinking, I’m sure, that we might click. She had that matchmaker look about her. But for once Maggie misread the signals. Clovis had already fallen for her, and she had eyes for no one but him. You could have knocked both Maggie and me over with a feather. Then again, Clovis was the only man I knew who could toss tires with her.
Micki and Eric seem to have worked out their issues, although every now and then Sam reports that Micki has gone on the warpath about something. I’m beginning to believe she just enjoys the make-up sex. Who knows with Micki?
As for me, I’m on my way to Vermont to see that schoolteacher, Marion South. Maggie’s right; I haven’t tried hard enough.