A Game of Inches

by Webb Hubbell

  “You’re right. Marshall is certainly as good a friend as Woody, but he’s not in any personal risk. More to the point, we just talked about antitrust being our niche. Billy has plenty of money available now to hire the best counsel available. Marshall doesn’t know that Red is going to pay Billy what he’s owed. Between the Lobos and Stockdell’s generosity, I bet we can find Billy the very best. Besides, I don’t think I like that ‘third time’s a charm’ logic either. I’ll work with Red to get Billy his money and help Marshall find the right lawyer, but that’s enough.”

  I raised a glass in a casual toast. “Maggie, I’m so glad you’re back. Between us, I think we’re got this figured out. First thing Monday morning we can work on finding Billy a lawyer he can count on.”

  My toast was interrupted by a bit of flutter as Walter Matthews strode to the table, kissed Maggie on the cheek and said, “Jack, it’s good to see you. I hear you found a companion while we were gone. Carol Madison’s one of the best—my company has her on retainer. And I hear she’s a pretty fair golfer.”

  At the maître d’s suggestion, we moved to a table for dinner. Walter steered the conversation to golf. I assured Walter that Carol wouldn’t get in the way of our regular golf game, although I wasn’t so sure. We spent the next hour enjoying a fine meal and talking about their month in Tuscany. I was more than jealous and more than glad they were back.

  I could have stayed at the Bombay and talked the rest of the night, but they were feeling the effects of jet lag, so we called it an early night. As the cab made its way up Connecticut Avenue I felt pretty good about how we had resolved the issues at hand.

  I would put everything in place tomorrow morning, ready to enjoy a relaxing evening on the Eastern shore.

  * * *

  FRIDAY

  * * *

  April 22, 2016

  26

  I HAD NO trouble with the press on Friday morning. Thanks to an article in the Post reporting that I would represent Billy, they had moved on. I was tempted to disavow the story, but what good would that do? No need to stir them up again—they’d know soon enough that Marshall had hired a real criminal lawyer

  A small but niggling part of my brain was still bothered by the idea of helping an NFL franchise dodge antitrust laws. For a fact, most of my antitrust clients weren’t saints. I reminded myself that one could sometimes do more good from the inside than by shouting at the rain on the outside. Lawyers are experts at rationalizing.

  I made a few tweaks to the retainer agreement, nothing of substance, just enough to prove I’d actually read it. Red seemed genuinely pleased when I called to tell him that the revised contract was on the way to his lawyers.

  “Jack, that’s terrific. You can fly out to LA with me in a couple of weeks to meet my management team. I try to spend about half my time out there so the timing should work well.”

  He asked me to put together a list of whatever issues I might want to review and gave me contact information for Regina Halep, who would be my liaison to the team.

  “Gina’s as smart as they come; she’ll get you whatever you need. I won’t be surprised if she becomes president of the franchise one of these days. Puts all the men in my organization to shame.”

  Maggie and I ordered in sandwiches. We had a lot of work to catch up on after her month-long absence. After about an hour she caught me looking at my watch.

  “Jack, go home and pack. Your mind is clearly on the weekend, or should I say your companion for the weekend,” she said dryly.

  “I apologize. I promise to be back to normal on Monday.”

  “I hope so—Marshall should be here by early afternoon. I must say I don’t envy your discussion. I’ll have an office ready for him.”

  “Thanks Maggie. You and Walter get caught up on your rest. Next week is going to be busy.”

  Little did I know?

  Traffic over the Bay Bridge was typically heavy on Friday afternoons, and today was no exception. I had decided to forego the pleasure of Pat’s company, preferring my own thoughts to his awkward silence.

  Red had called while I was packing to invite me to join him at the NFL scouting combine, an event that bothers me as much as anything about Pro football. Think about it: a bunch of predominately white owners and coaches judging young men, mostly African-American, based on physical prowess. Each player is weighed and measured, tested for physical strength and endurance, and put through a regimen of physical and mental drills. I told him thanks, but no thanks.

  He was surprised. “I know members of Congress who would give their eye teeth to attend.”

  I told him to give one my seat.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He sounded legitimately surprised.

  Representing the Lobos would indeed be a challenge for my conscience.

  Carol must have been watching for me because she threw open the front door almost before I stepped out of the car. Her broad smile made me feel terrific.

  “Let’s go for a boat ride, have a quiet dinner, and take a swim.”

  “Sounds like the perfect evening.”

  And it was. The ever-useful Pat drove the pontoon boat while we sipped Manhattans and talked about nothing in particular, enjoying the sunset. She gave me the low-down on her guests for the evening—this weekend she had included a couple of congresswomen. Not fair for the guys to have all the fun. The breathtaking sunset over the water brought a chill to the air, and we soon turned back.

  I gave a low whistle when she told me that the movie star couple who were spending the weekend at The Inn at Perry Cabin in St. Michaels had agreed to drop by before dinner. They’d spent the week in DC trying to get Congress to support their project in Louisiana.

  “Don’t get any ideas. You belong to me this weekend.”

  She also told me she hadn’t included Senator Boudreaux from Tennessee.

  “He makes most of the women uncomfortable, attached or not.”

  “I’ll miss Claudia,” I kidded.

  “You’ll miss her bathing suit. I heard she got a nice promotion. Must have been her knowledge of domestic affairs.”

  For dinner, Mattie served us fresh grouper grilled and seasoned with something called Anne’s Aztec Spice. It was fantastic. We lingered over dinner, both knowing how we wanted this perfect evening to end. Pat and Mattie had magically disappeared.

  She suggested we freshen our drinks and meet in the hot tub.

  She got no argument from me. I changed quickly and carried a bottle of wine and two glasses to the warm pool tucked in next to the swimming pool. I poured the wine, set the glasses on the ledge, and sunk into the warm water. The jets and bubbling water felt absurdly good. It wasn’t long before the lights dimmed and I looked up to see Carol removing her robe. I was overdressed.

  She eased herself into the water, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed me flush on the mouth. I soon realized that my bathing trunks were superfluous.

  “Silly man,” she laughed, and they quickly came off.

  We were interrupted forcefully by a deafening blast that seemed to come from right behind my head.

  27

  I REACHED FOR Carol who I thought must have hit her head on the side of the hot tub. Pat appeared almost immediately and, in one swift motion, took her from my uncertain grasp and wrapped her in towels. She didn’t appear to have been injured, but was clearly woozy, probably in a state of shock.

  “Inside, now!” Pat barked as he gently and quickly guided Carol indoors.

  I pulled myself out of the water, grasping ineffectually for my trunks and robe. I tried to get my bearings, but was thrown back by the force of a second blast and the sound of more tile shattering. I’ve been shot at enough times before to know what a gunshot sounds like. Propriety be damned, I dashed inside buck-naked.

  Safe in Carol’s living room, I could see that she was sitting up, beginning to shake from the rush of adrenaline. Mattie had brought her a blanket and robe and was holding her tight.Pat threw me a to
wel.

  “What happened?” Carol asked, still groggy. She pulled away from Mattie and reached to the back of her head. “I think I’m bleeding.” Mattie handed her a towel and stood up, looking a little pale herself. They seemed to be moving in slow motion.

  Pat said, “Carol, you’re all right. Something hit the tiles behind your head and exploded. I’m fairly certain it was a bullet. Let me check the back of your neck for tile fragments.” He looked at me before continuing, “Probably a stray bullet from a drunk deer hunter.”

  “Twice?” I asked, coldly. His words had cleared my head. “Not likely. I’d say it came from a sniper’s rifle.”

  “But the shots missed,” Pat began. “A professional sniper wouldn’t miss…”

  “…except on purpose,” I finished.

  “Mr. Patterson, I can’t imagine why anyone would take a pot shot at Carol, it must have been meant for you. But why would someone, I mean who would…” Pat turned to look at Carol. “Maybe it was some kind of a warning.”

  He stopped to let his words sink in.I knew I needed to take charge.

  “I don’t think it had to do anything with romance. I’m going to change into some clothes. Mattie!” I turned to her. She was peeking out through the curtains, trying to eye the hot tub. “Stay away from the windows! Find some brandy and put on some coffee. Take care of Carol—I’ll be back soon.” I walked over to Carol, kissed her on the forehead, and left to change.

  Khakis and a clean shirt gave me a renewed sense of control. I dialed Martin, told him where I was and asked him to come pick me up. He agreed immediately, no questions. I also asked him to bring a clean cell phone and someone who could drive my car home.

  Mattie handed me a glass of brandy when I returned to the bedroom. Carol collapsed against my chest. She held a mostly empty glass and had stopped shaking. I noticed that both Pat and Mattie had poured themselves a brandy as well. Coffee could wait.

  I pulled Carol’s chin up. She sniffed a little and spoke.

  “I’m so sorry. I just panicked when I heard the explosion. I hit my head and…oh my God, was it really a bullet?” I pulled her close, ignoring Pat.

  “It’s okay. We’re both okay, that’s what counts. Do you want to call the police? You should, you know.”

  “I’d rather not, but I will if you insist. Pat seems to be pretty sure the bullet was meant for you.” Her voice was steady again.

  “Carol. I’m not sure what happened or why. But I do understand that sirens, a herd of policemen and yards of yellow tape won’t do your business any good. So let’s play it cool. Pat, my friend Martin Wells will want to send one of his staff around tomorrow to tour the grounds for poachers. Carol’s guests will never know he’s here.”

  “Understood.”

  “Do you need any help protecting Carol for the next few weeks? Martin can easily put a couple of his best at your disposal.”

  Pat said, “I think we’ll be fine, but I won’t hesitate to ask if I need help.”

  Carol pulled away. “What are you talking about? I don’t need any protection.”

  I put my hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her face.

  “Carol, someone knew you and I would be alone together tonight. I’m not sure what this is about, but I have an idea. I need some time and space to think about it. Tonight was very scary—I don’t want there to be a next time.”

  She allowed herself a bit of a think before asking.

  “So what do we do next?”

  I looked at Pat—he was a smart guy.

  “Carol, I think I need to, well, sort of fly beneath the radar for a few weeks.”

  “Okay—what does that mean, exactly?”

  I didn’t know how far I could trust Pat and Mattie, but I owed her an explanation.

  “We could have been killed, but I think Pat’s right. Someone just sent me a warning shot that came within inches of killing us both. I couldn’t live with myself knowing you’re in danger. If I care about you, which I certainly do, I need to go into hiding. It doesn’t mean I’m going to quit doing what I need to do. It just means, I have to do it below the radar screen.”

  “What do you need to do?” She was trying not to cry.

  “I think I know why someone sent me the warning shot. Now I have to find out who.”

  “But do you have to leave right now?”

  “Believe me, I’d rather not. I’d rather we fixed the hot tub and jumped right back in.” My grin finally produced a smile.

  “I’ll have the tile man out here tomorrow morning before my guests arrive. Promise me you’ll come back.” She gave me a sweet kiss.

  “Promise.”

  I turned to Pat. “You and I need to talk about a few things. Mattie, do you think I could have a very early breakfast before Martin gets here. All this excitement has made me hungry. In fact, we should probably all try to eat a little.”

  Mattie headed to the kitchen.

  Carol went back to her room to get presentable, her words not mine. After they left, Pat spoke.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game. That bullet missed your head by inches.”

  “That’s why they call it a ‘a game of inches.’”

  * * *

  SATURDAY

  * * *

  April 23, 2016

  28

  OVER A MIDNIGHT breakfast, I tried to get a little information while assuring Carol that she would be safe, both here and in DC.

  “Carol, I’m curious. Who might have known we’d be here tonight. Just off the top of your head.”

  “Well, let’s see—all the weekend guests, my staff, and a few people who couldn’t come. I’ll make up a list and email it to you. That is, if you give me your email.”

  “You mean there’s something about me you don’t know?’

  “I can get it if I need to,” she said evenly.

  “Hold off sending it to me until Monday. I’m going to have our office, computers, and phones checked out. I’ll let Pat know when it’s safe to send me an email.”

  “Pat. Why not call me? I might like to at least talk to you.”

  “For the next two weeks at least, there can be no direct communication between us. I don’t like it any more than you do, but a professional sniper means someone is spending a lot of money to warn me off something. For all I know, that something could be you. More importantly, I can’t have them thinking that they can get to me by getting to you.”

  Carol frowned, and I turned to Pat.

  “Martin will tell you how to get in touch with me. If you want to have your computers and phones checked, he’s got an expert who will do that at no cost to Carol.”

  Pat asked, “Do you think that’s necessary?”

  “Never hurts to check.” I said.

  “Wait a minute. You think it’s possible that someone might have hacked my computer or my phone. Confidentiality is critical to what I do.” Now Carol was paying attention.

  “I hope not, but it’s certainly a possibility. Carol, the person I use is really good. Let her check everything out. Even if she doesn’t find anything, she might make some recommendations to improve your systems. Take advantage of the situation.”

  “Okay, but if somebody’s hacked into my computer I’m going to be pissed.” Funny—she’d gotten over almost losing her life pretty quickly, but the idea of someone messing with her livelihood was another matter.

  I had to ask her one more question.

  “Carol, any chance you told Red Shaw that I’d be here this weekend?”

  “I probably did. I certainly invited him. Now that Lucy is in the picture he seldom comes, but he’s got pretty much an open invitation. I told you his companies are very good clients, and he has sent a lot of business my way over the years. You don’t think he’s behind this, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. Yesterday, he actually suggested I represent Billy Hopper. I think Billy may be what this little adventure was all about. Somebody wanted to discourage me. If that’s it, they’v
e definitely made their point.”

  Martin was about an hour away, so I excused myself to get the rest of my clothes. I returned to find Mattie and Pat doing dishes and Carol sitting on a couch in her great room. She reached up, and I sat down, wrapping my arms around her.

  “Jack, I have to admit—I’m a little scared.”

  It probably wouldn’t do any good, but I said, “You’ll be okay. Pat knows what he’s doing, and I really don’t think that bullet was meant for you. Martin will provide him back-up. Just listen to them when they tell you to do something.”

  “I’m not talking about me. I’m scared something is going to happen to you.”

  This time I couldn’t think of much to say. Frankly, I was too. It took me a few seconds to manage, “Oh, c’mon, Carol, I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  “We could go away together. I hear Bali is beautiful. No one would look for us there.”

  The idea of Carol and I on the beaches of Bali held a lot of appeal.

  “You mean do what the person who hired the sniper wants me to do?” I asked.

  “Exactly. Walk away. Walk away with me. I want you alive.”

  “Sounds very tempting. But you know a lot about me. What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “You’re going to go back to DC and figure out who was behind all this tonight and what it’s all about. You’ll probably get yourself killed in the process. Damn you, Jack, the more I think about it Bali would be perfect.”

  “You’re right, except I hope you’re wrong about the getting myself killed part.”

  She held my face in her hands and kissed me long and hard. Then she pulled away.